Ladies and Frank*, I'm glad to report that I've discovered a tangible heaven on earth. What is it, you might ask? House of Vintage, a stories-tall vintage shop in Portland, OR.
Now, if you're like me, you assume that Portland is full of lovely people in Birkenstocks and tattoos. WRONG. At least on the Birkenstock count. It's full of tattoos, hipsters of every age, AND THE MOST PERFECT VINTAGE STORES EVER.
I have to hold House of Vintage in a higher regard than all the rest, though, because it's where I found The Sweater. Yes, the capitalization is necessary. It combines all of my clothing loves into one convenient garment.
1) It's a sweater. Since I tend to dress like an Eskimo, this is a plus.
2) THE NECKLINE/SHOULDERS ARE COVERED IN SEQUINS. Since I like to be a stylish Eskimo, this is a double plus. It's like I copped all the colors from Joseph's amazing technicolor dreamcoat. And forgive me for veering off the secular path with that remark, but it is necessary.
3) It has a giant hole in the elbow that I didn't notice until I was wearing it and it was pointed out to me. Holes in clothing = instant street cred.
4) It came with a pin attached. A gold butterfly pin, just hanging out above my right boob. Which is the only place I ever want gilded butterflies to be.
5) The base of the sweater is black. So, ya know, I can keep it classy on my bottom half, and keep my top half inspired by The Golden Girls.
6) All of this beauty only cost $9.
Some tried and true thrifters might turn their nose up at that audacious price, but I feel about this sweater the way I think most women feel about their wedding dress. No price would have been too high.
So, in short, I have to thank House of Vintage for making a clothing dream of mine come true. Your store is like a cheap, enjoyable version of Disney World.
*While I certainly don't mean to alienate anyone, I'm fairly sure that Frank is the only gentleman besides my father that reads le blog.
Monday, October 26, 2009
Tuesday, October 13, 2009
"We wear our scarves just like a noose..."
"...but not 'cause we want eternal sleeeeep!" See? Regina Spektor's not offering suicide advice, she's offering her perspective on how to wear a scarf.
Whether you wear it like a noose or wear it in a less macabre fashion, scarves are the best way to add warmth and interest to boring, lame outfits. There I go with those pesky, fashion-y statements again. But seriously, whenever I'm standing in front of my closet from the months of October to April, I think: WWSSD? Let me break down the hip lingo for you--WWSSD stands for "What Would Scarf Sally Do?"
Scarf Sally is one of my alter egos, and please, no need to compliment her on the inventive name. My creativity knows no bounds. Anyway, Scarf Sally is a pipsqueak of a girl who only wears scarves. She's small, because some of my scarves are as well, and SS would never leave the house looking indecent. Whenever I'm wearing a tired, basic outfit, I consult SS for a quick moment. We usually banter back and forth for a few moments, and then I realize that I have to go to work, and "why do you always distract me when I just need you to help me pick out a damn scarf?!"
Sorry. But when you have 25 scarves to choose from (TO BE FAIR, most of them are $5 pieces of fabric bought from creepy street vendors in various locations), sometimes you need a little pipsqueak of a girl to narrow down the field. When I'm not feeling the whole "multiple personalities" thing, I go for color, sentimentality, and comfort--in that order. A black and white outfit looks far better with an patterned scarf, or at least a bright color. Please, no one needs to tell you that! And if I happen to be both cold and homesick (for a person or a place), I throw on the scarf I got while in Berlin (ooo, world traveler droppin' the country names) or one that I got from a friend. Finally, if I'm just freezing my buns off, I wear a terribly ugly (but oh-so-snuggly) grey knit scarf and call it a day.
And that, my friends, is the true meaning of Christmas.
Whether you wear it like a noose or wear it in a less macabre fashion, scarves are the best way to add warmth and interest to boring, lame outfits. There I go with those pesky, fashion-y statements again. But seriously, whenever I'm standing in front of my closet from the months of October to April, I think: WWSSD? Let me break down the hip lingo for you--WWSSD stands for "What Would Scarf Sally Do?"
Scarf Sally is one of my alter egos, and please, no need to compliment her on the inventive name. My creativity knows no bounds. Anyway, Scarf Sally is a pipsqueak of a girl who only wears scarves. She's small, because some of my scarves are as well, and SS would never leave the house looking indecent. Whenever I'm wearing a tired, basic outfit, I consult SS for a quick moment. We usually banter back and forth for a few moments, and then I realize that I have to go to work, and "why do you always distract me when I just need you to help me pick out a damn scarf?!"
Sorry. But when you have 25 scarves to choose from (TO BE FAIR, most of them are $5 pieces of fabric bought from creepy street vendors in various locations), sometimes you need a little pipsqueak of a girl to narrow down the field. When I'm not feeling the whole "multiple personalities" thing, I go for color, sentimentality, and comfort--in that order. A black and white outfit looks far better with an patterned scarf, or at least a bright color. Please, no one needs to tell you that! And if I happen to be both cold and homesick (for a person or a place), I throw on the scarf I got while in Berlin (ooo, world traveler droppin' the country names) or one that I got from a friend. Finally, if I'm just freezing my buns off, I wear a terribly ugly (but oh-so-snuggly) grey knit scarf and call it a day.
And that, my friends, is the true meaning of Christmas.
Saturday, October 10, 2009
Why I love Madeleine Albright
Because as one of the most influential political figures of the past couple of decades, she used her jewelry to convey messages to fellow diplomats rather than see it as a frivolous addition to an outfit. Fun fact: Saddam Hussein's poet-in-residence called Albright "an unparalleled serpent." The next time she met with the Iraqi government, she donned a snake pin. God, if I ever have the opportunity to make that big of a statement with such a small accessory, I'll be thinking of her. Honestly, if you like pretty pictures and pins (two of my favorite things, of course), do yourself a favor and check out Read My Pins: Stories From a Diplomat's Jewel Box.
Now, if only my other feminist hero, Ruth Ginsburg, would publish a book like that. I'm thinking Supreme Style: Big Glasses and Badass Blouses. Eh, eh?
Now, if only my other feminist hero, Ruth Ginsburg, would publish a book like that. I'm thinking Supreme Style: Big Glasses and Badass Blouses. Eh, eh?
Tuesday, October 6, 2009
Viv
I like the fact that none of my stylistic preferences are unique to me--most of them come from celebrities, drag queens, and my family. Lately, I've started to notice that I can thank my wonderful grandma for some of my more ostentatious tastes. I mean, with a name like Vivian Vincent, you've got to be a little flashy, right? I can remember when I first began to look at my grandma as someone who had a distinct style that went beyond applique sweatshirts. It was when we found her and my grandpa's wedding announcement that ran in their town's newspaper.
Truly, I don't remember much about it besides the description of her wedding dress, and more specifically, the pink veil that accompanied it. Now, we're not talking Gwen Stefani punk-pink, but reading that made me smile and think "yeah...grammy knows what's going on." I've thought that several times since--when I found out that she owned and wore gold booties, for instance, and whenever I caught a glance of her costume jewelry collection.
She kept her earrings on this netted board contraption--which I'm making sound far more conceptual and revolutionary than it is--and I loved to just look at them. She had the standard crystal studs and colored hearts, but then I would see the big white shells and neck-grazing Native American beaded danglers, and all I wanted to do was wear them RIGHT NOW and WHY AREN'T MY EARS PIERCED YET?
The best part of her "jewels" and my perception of her style? I don't think that my grandma spent any more time than was absolutely necessary on her looks. She cared about her family and her faith far more than she did about buying a pair of pumps or primping herself. And that's why I love that she still had such silly and fabulous things. She showed me that fashion doesn't have to be one's top priority in order to have fun with it.
Luckily, I now have most of my grandma's costume jewelry. And in its original storage, no less! I have the netted board contraption, an old Oil of Olay plastic box, and an embroidered heart-shaped box full of gaudy treasures that I wish I could have seen her wear more. Instead of wishing though, I snap her silver snake cuff on my wrist and thread the Native American-inspired earrings through my now-pierced lobes and smile. Because that's what my gold bootie-wearin' grandma would want.
Truly, I don't remember much about it besides the description of her wedding dress, and more specifically, the pink veil that accompanied it. Now, we're not talking Gwen Stefani punk-pink, but reading that made me smile and think "yeah...grammy knows what's going on." I've thought that several times since--when I found out that she owned and wore gold booties, for instance, and whenever I caught a glance of her costume jewelry collection.
She kept her earrings on this netted board contraption--which I'm making sound far more conceptual and revolutionary than it is--and I loved to just look at them. She had the standard crystal studs and colored hearts, but then I would see the big white shells and neck-grazing Native American beaded danglers, and all I wanted to do was wear them RIGHT NOW and WHY AREN'T MY EARS PIERCED YET?
The best part of her "jewels" and my perception of her style? I don't think that my grandma spent any more time than was absolutely necessary on her looks. She cared about her family and her faith far more than she did about buying a pair of pumps or primping herself. And that's why I love that she still had such silly and fabulous things. She showed me that fashion doesn't have to be one's top priority in order to have fun with it.
Luckily, I now have most of my grandma's costume jewelry. And in its original storage, no less! I have the netted board contraption, an old Oil of Olay plastic box, and an embroidered heart-shaped box full of gaudy treasures that I wish I could have seen her wear more. Instead of wishing though, I snap her silver snake cuff on my wrist and thread the Native American-inspired earrings through my now-pierced lobes and smile. Because that's what my gold bootie-wearin' grandma would want.
Thursday, October 1, 2009
File under "genocide," not "gamine"
Dear Alyssa,
When your short hair starts to grow out and you're stalling on getting it cut, don't part it on the side and smooth it down with boatloads of gel and wax and leave the house. You will not look like a brunette Edie Sedgwick. You will look like Hitler.
Love,
Me
When your short hair starts to grow out and you're stalling on getting it cut, don't part it on the side and smooth it down with boatloads of gel and wax and leave the house. You will not look like a brunette Edie Sedgwick. You will look like Hitler.
Love,
Me
Mama said knock you out!
I'm not a violent person.
I'm a touch emotional, but I definitely err on the passive-aggressive side of the violence spectrum. Because of that, I used to be a little perplexed by why I fall in love with jewelry and clothing that make me look like I'm a member of a chain gang. A heavily stylized chain gang, but one that could cut a bitch nonetheless. However, after weeks of uninterrupted musing on the topic, I've solved my conundrum. I'm about to make a REVOLUTIONARY connection, so as Samuel L. Jackson said in Jurassic Park, hold onto your butts.
I think that because I tend to be slightly timid when it comes to confrontation and conflict, I choose to "dress it out" instead of "talk it out." That's some deeply shallow stuff there. My friend Kevin said it better a couple of months ago. We were out to dinner, and I expressed a concern to him that I looked like a whore because of the shoes I had on. He simply said: "Well, you kind of do. But when you look like a whore, you look like a 'whore.' So it's OK--it's a practiced look."
Truer words were never spoken. Since I love me a good costume, I obviously find it much easier to dress the part of someone who doesn't take any shit than to just be that person. Wearing a leather jacket, massive knuckle rings, and huge shoes allows me to access a space that I don't normally inhabit--one of badass self-advocacy. Do I wish that I didn't need to wear garish accessories in order to stand up for myself? Honestly, I don't really mind that I've taken a decidedly shallow route. Because I've discovered that--again, wait for the revolutionary conclusion--if I've got the moxie to wear something that verges on a foolish get-up, chances are I can speak my mind with that same confidence.
And more importantly, if the confrontation that's stemmed from my newfound badassery takes a turn for the worse, at least I have something really interesting to look at while I formulate a plan B.
While strapping on shoes that look like they belong in an S&M accessory catalog hasn't turned me into a lady who mows down anyone who stands in her way, I have found a ludicrous amount of security in the assertive way I'm forced to walk while wearing them. Because otherwise, I will fall on my face.
Confidently, of course.
I'm a touch emotional, but I definitely err on the passive-aggressive side of the violence spectrum. Because of that, I used to be a little perplexed by why I fall in love with jewelry and clothing that make me look like I'm a member of a chain gang. A heavily stylized chain gang, but one that could cut a bitch nonetheless. However, after weeks of uninterrupted musing on the topic, I've solved my conundrum. I'm about to make a REVOLUTIONARY connection, so as Samuel L. Jackson said in Jurassic Park, hold onto your butts.
I think that because I tend to be slightly timid when it comes to confrontation and conflict, I choose to "dress it out" instead of "talk it out." That's some deeply shallow stuff there. My friend Kevin said it better a couple of months ago. We were out to dinner, and I expressed a concern to him that I looked like a whore because of the shoes I had on. He simply said: "Well, you kind of do. But when you look like a whore, you look like a 'whore.' So it's OK--it's a practiced look."
Truer words were never spoken. Since I love me a good costume, I obviously find it much easier to dress the part of someone who doesn't take any shit than to just be that person. Wearing a leather jacket, massive knuckle rings, and huge shoes allows me to access a space that I don't normally inhabit--one of badass self-advocacy. Do I wish that I didn't need to wear garish accessories in order to stand up for myself? Honestly, I don't really mind that I've taken a decidedly shallow route. Because I've discovered that--again, wait for the revolutionary conclusion--if I've got the moxie to wear something that verges on a foolish get-up, chances are I can speak my mind with that same confidence.
And more importantly, if the confrontation that's stemmed from my newfound badassery takes a turn for the worse, at least I have something really interesting to look at while I formulate a plan B.
While strapping on shoes that look like they belong in an S&M accessory catalog hasn't turned me into a lady who mows down anyone who stands in her way, I have found a ludicrous amount of security in the assertive way I'm forced to walk while wearing them. Because otherwise, I will fall on my face.
Confidently, of course.
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