Oh hey, guys. You know how I tend to wax philosophic about how nothing is original, especially style, and that I'm totally OK with that. Like, I even think it's cool that everything has been done?
Well, then I guess this makes me the coolest person ever. I got curious and vain the other day, and so I Googled "La Vie en Vogue." OMG, there are other blogs named that.
My e-face was red with embarassment. I felt like Holden was going to pop out of the pages of Catcher in the Rye and spend 30 minutes calling me phony all while alluding to sexual abuse. I would get the last laugh though, because I would tell him that he was my least favorite character in the history of forever, and he would sulk away. But I would still be left with a derivative blog title. So no one wins.
I immediately ran to the drawing board to try and think of new blog names. Why did I choose "skeleton key," which doesn't really conjure up anything fashion-related? Let's list it out.
1) Because even though I joke about the impact that fashion and style has all the time, I honestly believe that (wait for it) fashion is the key to most everything. Kind of like a skeleton key can unlock any door. Try to keep up with these wicked hardcore (and apparently Boston-accented) connections.
2) I have a fascination with keys and keyholes. Last year, I found an antique-y key on our shelf, and I started wearing it on a long chain. It sort of became my favorite piece of jewelry. My favorite book, Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close, utilizes keyhole imagery throughout, so BAM. I love keys.
3) Having "skeleton key" as a title will finally draw the Halloween-lovin' audience that I've been DESPERATELY trying to tap into.
So there. I know this shakes all of your foundations to their very core, but I promise. We'll get through this. Oh, and I changed the background because I felt like it.
Friday, November 6, 2009
Tuesday, November 3, 2009
Deep thoughts. So deep that I should probably call them MUSINGS.
--Is is inappropriate to wear a full-length floral silk dress to an internship where business attire = a plaid flannel? I'll find out soon.
--If I didn't like animals so much, I think I would wear leather every day of my life.
--Five-inch heels: hopelessly tasteless, or delightfully tacky?
--If I didn't like animals so much, I think I would wear leather every day of my life.
--Five-inch heels: hopelessly tasteless, or delightfully tacky?
Monday, October 26, 2009
A secular heaven
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.
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.
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
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