Welcome to Fantasy Island!

Fun fact: Did you know that there were TWO runs of the show Fantasy Island? One that began in 1978, and one that started in 1998. I think I'd prefer the '98 version, because Fyvush Finkel was in that one. If you are not acquainted with that Yiddish superstar, fix that right now. You'll thank me.

Anyways, January sucks. Revolutionary statement, I know. But for some reason, the weather is kicking my ass this year. I used to run around in 15-degree weather wearing dresses and prance around my slightly warmer house in skirts! Now, unless I absolutely must be somewhere, I'm often found wearing this. To be fair, my pants have a chic penguin and igloo print, but I think you get the point. I am encased in fleece, because when I'm not, I get blue toes and fingers, and I can only stagger around the house in a frozen stupor for so long until my (wonderful, insanely patient) mom says "PUT ON SOME CLOTHES. WE ARE NOT TURNING UP THE HEAT." Rats.

With February--or as I like to call it, "the month where you can almost taste spring, right? RIGHT?"--just around the corner, here's what I currently wish I could be wearing all the time. Doesn't that just scream "picnic with a side of boobs"? Which I think we all know is the reason for the season.

Did that last "f**k" fall on deaf ears?

Wendy Brandes Jewelry "Swear Rings," $375.

On a roll

Yeah, I know. ANOTHER CAREY MULLIGAN PHOTO. But after how much I loved her in An Education, I find it downright deplorable that she showed up in this dress to the Golden Globes. HONEY. This ain't the SAG Awards*. Hike up your dress and the girls.

*She looked fantastic at the SAG Awards, by the way. But that doesn't change this.

I wish Peter Sarsgaard would teach ME about sex. God.

Because I refuse to be a slave to timeliness, I'm writing about a fantastic movie I saw about two months ago. I wish I could be like "oh, it's this charming little indie film that I sought out," but An Education is fairly mainstream, and I saw it at AMC with KMC. Yup. I included the location and my moviemate just for the similar initials.

It deserves a post for three reasons: 1) Peter Sarsgaard is the love of my fantasy life, 2) Alfred Molina is my illicit lover in the aforementioned fantasy life, and 3) This is a super-stylish film with some of the most gorgeous costumes in the history of ever.

Now, as much as I love going thrifting for hilarious clothing, I do appreciate well-made, sophisticated clothes as well--especially when they come from another decade. I don't care much for, say, a well-tailored dress at Macy's (GOD I HATE MACY'S. MARSHALL FIELDS 4 LIFE.), but if you show me a well-tailored dress from the '60s, I'll probably go nuts for it. I just like the idea of clothing with some history behind it.

Well, looky here. An Education is set in the 1960s! How fitting!

So, the clothing in this here movie. I DIE. While I wish I could post every still from this movie, that's rather impractical, so I've chosen two photos that I feel epitomize its' structured elegance and impeccable attention to detail. First of all, can we talk about the slip in the middle picture? CLICK ON IT TO ENLARGE. Like, right now. Look at that bodice! I should just say "look at her boobs!" Because they're bedazzled in an extremely tasteful way, and nothing says "let's lose my virginity in France" like wearing a floor-length nude-colored slip with sparkles.

Oh, spoiler alert. They have sex. In France. You see it coming, trust me. But this is what I love about vintage clothing that I feel is slightly lost in more modern wears--the simple details. Yes, this is coming from someone who likes rhinestone shoulder pads, but there is too much to be said about the delicacy of a ribbon detail or a smaller explosion of sequins.

Alright, let's have a peek at the picture where they're cradling each other's faces. Somehow, I feel like if I tried to do that it would take FOREVER to get in the appropriate position. But I digress. You know the drill. Click to enlarge the foto. Now, Carey Mulligan (the adorable actress who plays Jenny) is an extremely svelte girl. Let's just call her skinny. So, she can pull off a ruffled hip on a dress without looking disproportionately large. But I'd like anyone who thinks they can't wear a printed dress in a classy way to take some inspiration from this shot--the dress itself is a fairly basic silhouette, so the print doesn't look all that overpowering.

A quick note to the men of the world: wear what Peter (first-name basis, obviously) is wearing to every formal occasion you ever go to. OK, maybe not every one, but at least 90% of them. As long as we're on the "details are awesome!" topic, wear a tie bar because it looks really, really cool. See how fun ties that don't have pointed ends are? Super fun.

An Education was the embodiment of '60s style, or at least my rose-colored understanding of it. Lovely silhouettes, unapologetic femininity, and interesting details. I can't wait to own this so I can wear dirty sweatpants and squeal at how much better everyone looks that me. Oh, and the first picture? I just wanted to have a picture of Carey Mulligan sans '60s attire. Still gorgeous and lookin' like vaguely pissed-off Aphrodite in that Grecian-style dress.

What to wear when cast in "A Midsummer Night's Dream"

Seriously. Goat booties. That have your heel balancing on a GUN. Sometimes, I think that when I layer a pair of lace tights over opaque-colored ones, I'm being creative and provocative. But now I understand that until I blur the lines between animal and man in my style, I'm basically worth nothing. Thanks for the clarification, Iris Schieferstein!

Golly gee, I blog a lot.

Whatevs. I also shorten my words way more than necessary. Anyway, this will be a short, yet crucial post. Remember when I wrote about GaGa's opening band, Semi-Precious Weapons? I feel like mere words didn't do them justice. So, here are two Google images that hopefully help to explain why I'm a little bit in love with them.

Get over the fact that he's doing the splits in the first picture, and check out dem boots! Amazing. And, who else loves his tulle collar in the above photo? Yes, as I mentioned, he is lookin' like a poor man's version of Kevin Barnes. But, since the band hasn't "made it" quite yet...he sort of is a poor man. Mark my words--in two years' time, he'll be riding faux unicorns during shows just like Mr. B.

Victoria Jones, you're my American idol.

God, I would love to find out that this Victoria Jones lady that I'm praising is actually British or something RIDICULOUS like that.

I don't think it comes as any kind of shock that I'm positively in love with ridiculously sparkly sweaters. I extolled their virtues in a previous post about House of Vintage in Portland, and subsequent trips to my local Goodwill has only cemented my faith in their beauty.

Why do I like them? Why wouldn't I? When bought correctly, they're insanely gaudy (which removes the need for any extra accessorizing), their often massive size removes the need for pants (because every lazy designer knows that plus-size clothing is made all the more fashionable by throwing some SPARKLES on it), and they serve as a great conversation starter. Friends might say "Wow. Are you sure you don't want to change before we go out? No? OK, cool. I'm gonna walk on this other side of the street, and we'll meet up later." Old ladies might mention something about the "moxie" it takes to wear something like that. Sidenote: that would be my dream conversation.

This past Saturday, I was combing through the Goodwill racks when I came upon a gem of a sweater: an ivory turtleneck, size 3X, with legit crystals, beads, and sequins sewn to the front in a bastardized argyle pattern. However, it was sporting some massive stains and a questionable odor, so I walked away--not before checking the label, though. And that, my friends, is how I fell in love with Victoria Jones. You see, she's the designer of the "perfect sweater" as well--the House of Vintage one. The lovely frock you see in the upper right corner is a VJ original (makes it sound chicer that way), onsale at eBay. Obviously, SHE HAS SEEN INTO MY DREAMS and brought them to fruition. After looking through eBay offerings, I've realized that she is now my go-to gal for sparkle sweaters of any variety. I have no idea who she is as a person, though, which bugs me. Because if she were alive and still in fighting shape, I would commission her to design my tacky wardrobe for the rest of my life.

Last sidenote: thinking that I would be clever, I googled "addicted to sparkles," hoping to find a cutely-named disease that I could use as a title for this post. Instead, all I got were weird Twilight fan pages. STOP TAKING OVER MY LIFE, STEPHANIE MEYER.