Outfit Post: The best mobile fashion, style, and shopping apps

One gloriously bright July morning, I emerged from my bedroom and took the usual zombie-like walk into my kitchen. Rubbing my eyes sleepily, I reached for the coffee pot and felt my fingers brunch against something unfamiliar. It was rectangular, and formidable, and oddly bulky. It wasn't until my eyes opened completely that I realized it was a box, and that I was the proud new owner of an iPhone.

See, it was the morning of my birthday, and my husband had finally listened to my demands for a new phone. The one I'd been using was...unfortunate. It had a cracked screen, squeaky flip cover and was covered in ancient layers of grime from my kids' sticky fingers. Texting on it was lesson in patience, fortitude, and dexterity. And texts from me looked something like this: "R U Th TXW THR THER ARGHHHHHH H8!!!!!!!! And so on.

From the start, iPhone both thrilled and terrified me, much in the way Karl Lagerfeld does to his celebrity muse du jour. It was my baby. The gods at Apple had entrusted it to my care, and I was going to do my best to learn it's quixotic and somewhat temperamental ways. Sometimes iPhone threw tantrums and randomly drained its own battery. On occasion, it butt-dialed small businesses. And iPhone's screen often went blank if tiled at a disagreeable angle. Oh, and there's also the fact that syncing to iTunes once resulted in the disappearance of EVERY SINGLE SONG I'D EVER PURCHASED. That was a very very bad day. But, eventually, we put our issues aside, and today our relationship is stronger than ever.

I've become quite attached to iPhone, and find it a necessary tool when trying to find a new thrift shop, do research on a blog post, or kill time waiting on a doctor's appointment. Sadly,  though, I'm not the most technically advanced person, and often feel I'm not utilizing the phone as fully as I could be. Aside from purchasing books through Amazon's app I rarely use it for shopping. I find it challenging to examine items on a small screen, and the pages are often slow to load. Perhaps most frustrating, the process of entering information on a mobile keyboard requires either surgical precision or very teeny tiny fingers.

The New York Times recently explored the unexpected challenges retailers are experiencing with generating customers through mobile devices. Retailers report that only about 2 percent of their sales are coming from smart phones, well below the expectations of many e-commerce analysts.The potential for added revenue from mobile sales remains huge, retailers believe. EBay said that in 2010 it generated almost $2 billion in mobile sales, and is on track to double that this year.

But major retailers like Coach, J Crew, Urban Outfitters and Loft still do not have sites designed specifically for mobile phones - known as optimized sites - and nor do they have apps. By mid-2010, according to the Acquity Group, just 12 percent of the top 500 United States online retailers had sites compatible with mobile browsers, while just 7 percent had apps. Many sites that are not optimized require page after page of confirmations about shipping methods or credit cards, even for an existing customer who has logged in. Entering a credit card and a billing address and all that sort of stuff is truly frustrating when using a mobile device. It's clunky, and time-consuming, and usually results in a customer abandoning their order.

Christian Louboutain once famously asked, "What is an app?" admitting, "I'm a very bad technician. Technology, zero." However, more designers and fashion retails are warming up to the idea of e-commerce, and several biggies have rolled out iPhone apps to show off collections and allow users to shop. After a bit of research I did uncover a number of mobile fashion and shopping apps for my iPhone that are streamlined and relatively easy to use. Sadly, android users continue to have limited options, but increased attention on mobile sales will hopefully lead to the creation of android fashion and shopping apps in the near future.

Here are some highly rated fashion, style and shopping apps:

• Chicfeed: This app pulls photos from the internet's most respected style blogs, including The Satorialist and Lookbook. If you're seeking quick eye-candy, there's no better way to see loads of style photos all in one spot. 

• Shopstyle Mobile: This site's spinoff app aggregates clothing and accessories from more than 100 e-commerce sites (Asos, Bluefly, and Neiman Marcus among them.) Explore indiscriminately, or search by keyword, brand, store, price, color, size and sale. If you find something you love, the app directs you to an online retailer. 

• Pinterest: Pinterest is a website that lets you 'pin' photos and images from the web to a virtual bulletin board, and has a rabid following with bloggers. It requires an invite to join, though you can put your name on the miles-long waiting list for an account. Debuting this morning, the Pinterest app allows users to pin images through their mobile phones, browse other user's pins, reply and 'like' your favorite pins, and pin with your iPhone camera. It's a handy way to create a virtual shopping list and track trends.

• iShoes: Explore more than 50,000 shoes in the Finder, or search by style and designer. The app indicates which pairs are on sale and connects you straight to retailers.The  iShoes app is free, and offers decent-sized close-ups of each item.

• Lucky at Your Service: Another free app, this one uses GPS, e-commerce and real-life staffers to locate editor-approved clothing, shoes, accessories and beauty products. Once you've found that amazing piece, the app directs you to the online retailer, and, in select cases, to a store within 50 miles that stocks it. Even better, the Lucky concierge team can call the store to place the item on hold for you. The concierge team sends you an email within an hour with details how you can pick up your new garment.

• Net-A-Porter (and Gilt Group): These genius apps for luxury clothing and accessories alert you every time their main sites are updated with new products.You can also create wish lists, purchase items, and read weekly fashion news.

• Sephora: This app puts everything you love about beauty products at your fingertips. You can browse products based on brand, new products, and online exclusives; look up specific shade names and formulations; watch expert tutorials; read product reviews; and get news on special online offers. You can also easily review past orders.

• eBay: The goliath of auction shopping, the eBay app allows you to seamlessly search for items and place bids. The app allows you to watch items, search by brand, price, and keyword, and links with Paypal to permit instant payment. It also provides personal recommendations of auctions based on recent purchases. 

 
Do you have any favorite shopping and fashion apps? Do you use your mobile device for shopping? Would increased availability of retail apps encourage you to use your phone for shopping?

Vintage thrifted silk top; Gap Outlet cargos; Target belt; H&M platform clogs; Forever 21 rhinestone pyramid bracelet; Charming Charlie pearl bracelets and gold bangles; Forever 21 rhinestone earrings; Loft coral ring; Betsey Johnson gold watch

Outfit Post: Your mother will tell you those shoes look ridiculus

When you're trying to decide if you can really pull off his season's wide-leg jeans trend, or whether or not to invest in a pair of wood platform wedges, your best advocate might be close to home. A new study says women who want an honest opinion when they go shopping should bring their mothers. It seems women (at least, the 2,000 polled) consult their moms for honest shopping opinions.

I haven't lived in the same state as either of my parents in close to eight years. And, even if I did, I doubt I'd drag my mom out shopping with me. See, my mother is what some would call high-maintenance, and others would deem a pain in the ass. Critical and obsessive, a "quick" shopping excursion with my mother takes no less than three hours and requires the kind of fortitude usually reserved for mountaineers embarking on a climb of Everest. She also has the tactical skills of a stealth missile and can sniff out a sale better than anyone. A conservative dresser, my mother lives by traditional fashion rules, such as matching your belt to your shoes to your purse, and not wearing white after Labor Day. As far as she's concerned, wearing thrifted and vintage clothes is akin to rubbing your face in a bacteria-infested petri dish. Her hobbies include make-overs at the Estee Lauder counter, endless searches for the perfect pair of metallic leather sandals, not those platform ones dear, they'll make you look cheap, and sneaking into back rooms for first dibs on new merchandise.

Most importantly, though, one must come prepared to handle her unsolicited advice when shopping with her. Most of my outfits are met with the following response: They're either "inappropriate," "ridiculous," or "are you trying to embarrass me?" However, I'll admit that my mother's brutal honestly has saved me from making some unfortunate fashion choices. Such as those shortalls I desperately wanted back in 1991, which she strongly advised against.

According to the study, posted on Newslite.com, researchers explained that a third of women would rather shop with their mothers due to the belief that female friendships can be a minefield of jealousy, false compliments and complex mind games. It seems these fears of jealousy are true: One in 20 women admitted lying to a friend that they look great in something when they looked awful - because they didn't want them to look better than them.

By contrast, mothers tend to be honest (often brutally so) if they don't like something, and genuinely complimentary if they do. They completely lack a sense of competition regarding who dresses best. Mothers are also great at determining what flatters you - often you share the same body type, and your mother is best equipped to steer you towards clothes that compliment your shape. In addition, according to the study, shopping with mothers was found to be more focused and productive than an outing with friends, who often waste time gossiping and chatting.

Who do you turn to when you want brutally honest advice about a new purchase? Do you shop with your mom, or does it stress you out too much? Do you consult her before you make a big purchase, or do you have another friend who's your go-to for style advice? Do you agree that mom is more likely to provide an honest reaction to potential fashion purchases?

Vintage thrifted dress ($4) ; Old Navy belt; H&M sandals; vintage thrifted python clutch; Forever 21 pyramid bracelet; Forever 21 gold hoops; Betsey Johnson watch

New Outfit Post: In which I rationalize my shopping addiction

I have done many, many things to attempt to reduce stress. I spent years in yoga, twisting and contorting my body into unnatural forms and attempting to conquer positions called One Leg King Pigeon (yes, really.) I rode horses, desperately clinging to their backs like a spider monkey scampering up a swaying tree in a rainstorm. For a while, I attempted to teach myself to meditate, counting my breaths while trying to block out all those nagging worries like did I remember to sign my kid's homework binders and those checks really need to be deposited at the bank and I have got to remember to pay the gas bill and gosh, gas is getting so damm expensive and soon I'm going to be forced to ride my bike everywhere and by the way where the hell is my bike?

However, there's really only one thing that helps to reduce stress. And that's shopping. Oh, glorious shopping! As soon as I enter a store a wave of calm washes over me. I inhale the intoxicating scent of suede and leather and exotic perfumes and instantly feel my body relax. All those little stressful thoughts and fears fade away, overcome by the dizzying visual stimuli of leather wedges and printed maxi skirts and softly faded jeans. It's delightful, and mystifying, and never fails to elevate my mood. I wander down the aisles, meticulously examining new merchandise. I spend hours trying on shoes. Sometimes I take a few friends along, and we whittle away an afternoon hunting down the perfect pair of ballet flats. Shopping never fails to bring me out of whatever funk I was in before entering a store.

And, according to a study just out of Taiwan, shopping can actually be good for you. Scientists reported in the Journal of Epidemiology & Community Health that shopping may provide companionship, exercise, and an opportunity to maintain a healthy diet, and concluded that men and women who shop daily may live longer than those who avoid retail therapy.

In the study, researchers led by Dr Yu-Hung Chang of the Institute of Population Health Sciences, Taiwan, studied nearly 2,000 men and women aged 65 and over who lived in their own homes. They found those who shopped regularly lived longer than those who shopped just once a week or less, even after adjusting for factors such as physical limitations and cognitive decline. Those who shopped daily were 27% less likely to die than those who shopped infrequently, with the biggest effect seen in men

"Shopping is often for pleasure, with the potential to increase psychological well-being," they conclude. "Compared to other types of leisure-time physical activity, like formal exercise, which usually requires motivation and sometimes professional instruction, shopping is easier to undertake and maintain."

These finding make perfect sense. Shopping is physical and forces you to be active, though in a much more light-hearted manner than pounding away on a treadmill. It also forces you to be social - I've befriended many a salesgirl when in need of advice regarding a particular garment, and bonded with my friends.

Do you believe shopping is a good form of socialization and exercise? Do you find shopping exhilarating, or is the entire experience excruciating for you? Are you surprised at this study's findings? Discuss!

(As a little celebration for reaching 150 followers this week, I'm having a giveaway to one of my favorite vintage stores this week! This shop is a favorite of Jane Aldridge of Sea of Shoes, and is filled with pristine vintage from Christian Dior, Betsey Johnson, Prada, and Halston. Be sure to stop by and enter - its going to be fabulous.)

Thrifted Fossil dress; Nordstrom Rack necklace; Old Navy leather wedges; Marc Jacobs bag (from a consignment shop!); Betsey Johnson watch; eBay gold turquoise bracelet

Outfit Post: Sentimental old sap or crazy crazy hoarder?

One of my favorite TV shows is Hoarders on A&E. If you've never seen it, you are missing out on one of the most fascinating sociological experiments of our time (aside from Jersey Shore, that is.) Hoarders documents the exploits of people who, for whatever reason, cannot throw things out. Whether it's a childhood stuffed animal collection, stacks of canned tomatoes, or rusting fetid beer cans, the items pile up to the point where they are literally eating the house. Though hoarding seemed to be the hot-button topic of 2010, it's hardly new. In 1947 Langley and Homer Collyer, two well-heeled New York City brothers, died after becoming trapped under 170 tons of debris. One suffocated after being crushed by a tower of baled newspapers. Clearly, these guys had issues.

I audibly cringe when watching Hoarders, mostly because I just cannot understand the thought process behind hoarding. I don't consider myself much of a sentimental person. I'm not one of those people who believes items have the magical ability to transport them back to the time of their origin. Back in high school, when my friends were saving the pens discarded by their crush and rereading notes passed between them from sixth grade, I was cleaning out my locker, gleefully tossing the previous week's notes. During cleaning spurts I am cold and ruthless when it comes to deciding what to keep and what to toss. If I don't need it, it goes. Period.

However, I will concede that there are a few things I will never, ever get rid of. And all of these items are clothes or accessories. Like the Santa outfits worn by my twins when they were newborns. Sure, they're covered in baby drool and smell a tiny bit like spit-up. Will they ever wear them again? No. Do they serve any purpose at all, aside from making my uterus weep? No. But...my boys wore them during their first Christmas photos. And they're awfully cute. The outfits I mean (though my boys are pretty darn cute too.) So they stay.

There's also my prom dress - a dress so horribly, spectacularly tragic that it makes me wonder if I suffered a mysterious head injury before purchasing it. It reminds me of a simpler time, a golden age when I sported a bad perm (which I sprayed into submission with Aussie Scrunch Spray) and did hard time in detention for talking in class (sadly, this happened a lot.) In addition, I've got a too-small leather bomber jacket I scored on eBay, ancient concert tee shirts, 107263 pairs of designer jeans, multiple pairs of black ballet flats, and a J Crew argyle sweater I purchased with money saved from babysitting. In high school. The dress I'm wearing today, picked up during a particularly fortuitous thrifting excursion back in 2006, is another one of my can't-let-go items too.

Many people create attachments to clothing for one reason or another. Over time, these clothes can take up too much space and create a cluttered closet. While I believe in sentimental value, there has to come a point where you have to differentiate the important things from the not-so-important stuff. There are certain things that I will never get rid of (see items above, though I could stand to pair down my denim collection.) And others, like those skinny aspirational-sized pants I hold onto to torture myself with, need to be donated immediately. The feeling of needing to keep everything is hard to get rid of. But the value of having less crap in your closet is priceless.

Do you have things in your closet you could never get rid of? How do you determine what to keep and what to donate/throw out?

Thrifted Loft denim shirt; thrifted Forever 21 dress; Anthropologie lace camisole; thrifted Coach belt; thrifted vintage Coach satchel; Frye boots; Target socks; Plato's Closet leather bracelet; Betsey Johnson gold watch

Shoes versus bags - which side are you on?

Today I introduce you to the world's cutest bag. It's studded. It's black. It weights approximately 10 ounces. While many purses strive to be functional, this one is mostly decorative. The opening is just barely wide enough for a lipstick, my driver's license, and a credit card. And yet my love for this bag borders on obsessive. I stalked Gap.com for weeks waiting for it to come in, and my hands trembled with delight when I placed my order. It makes me inexplicably, ridiculously happy.

Since I was a little girl, I've had a thing for purses and handbags. Some people stroll through the mall and see shoes beckoning from windows, watches and jewelry glistening in cases, and hear the soft beckoning of this season's pencil skirts and cardigans. I see bags. Bags I'm thinking of buying, bags I already own, bags I can't understand, bags that could double as luggage, bags I couldn't dream of being able to afford. They sit in store windows and swing from the shoulders of shoppers, teasing me with their studs and zippers and tassels and quilting.

From canvas, to crocodile, to butter-soft leather, on and on through my daydreams they march, each more unique and coveted than the last. They haunt me, these bags. I fantasize about the sequined Marc Jacobs clutch I spied in Neiman Marcus back in September. An Urban Outfitters satchel from spring '07 is a frequent player in my fashion daydreams. And don't even get me started on 1994's Lady Dior, which makes my hands clench into ineffectual grabby-grabby fists of want.

Truthfully, as I progressed from little girl to teenager to adult, I never thought I'd stay a bag person. I always thought I'd morph into a shoe person. Shoe people are impetuous and fun and understand that fluctuating waistlines are no match for a jaunty little pair of heels. When nothing else fits, a new pair of shoes will. Shoe people read blogs like Sea of Shoes and Obsessed with Shoes, where they spend hours researching this season's ankle boots. Shoe people travel in packs and will happily spend an entire afternoon in the Saks shoe department. They talk about footwear by name: Mary Jane. Billy. Karolina. They spend afternoons obsessive-compulsively organizing their shoes according to heel height and color. And they speak the language as if they were born into it - vamp, brogues, t-strap, grommet.

Mostly, though, shoe people are willing to sacrifice their comfort and sanity for a gravity-defying pair of heels. I am not. An hour in heels transforms me into a whining cripple. But a bag would never torment me the way a pair of stilettos could. Give me J Crew's sequined, chain-strapped minaudière over a sparkling pair of pumps any day. I'd rather sling Bodkier's aggressively-zippered Howard Street satchel over my shoulder than suffer in black leather platforms. And with the coming of seventies fashion for spring, you'd better believe I'd chose a color-blocked flap bag (such as this little beauty from Marc Jacobs) over a sky-scraping pair platform sandals.

A bag doesn't require a pedicure and endless supply of band-aids. I don't have to consider hem height and hosiery. The weather forecast is of no importance in my choice of what to carry. I can walk to my closet, pick a bag off the shelf, and be done.

And now I ask you: Are you a shoe person, or a bag person? Do we need to be one or the other? And what's your favorite bag?

Forever 21 lace top; James Pearse tank (under top); Seven For All Mankind jeans; Forever 21 necklace; Nordstrom cross necklace; Gap leather bag; Steve Madden flats; Betsey Johnson gold watch

Outfit post: A snow-related freak out and a pretty little dress

Holy crap is it cold this morning. The weather forecast is predicting temperatures in the teens. I can feel cold air creeping under our doors, frigid fingers pulling at my wool socks. But it's the icy glare of wind-blown snow that makes me realize just how friggin' cold it really is.

Snow happens every damm winter, even here in Texas, and despite the efforts of the mighty news wanting to make it into a scary terrifying thing, it's not. Trust me. For days, the news has excitedly been airing footage of snow plows being driven into the city in preparation for today's three-inch snow fall. The snow will make for treacherous driving, and an ugly commute, but I assure you that this is not the pre-apocalyptic event sages have been warning us about. 

I love how people stock up for snow as if they're preparing to hunker down in an underground bunker to save themselves from a nuclear attack. People, this is not a Cormac McCarthy novel. Even if you are trapped in your house, you'll only be in there for a couple of days max. And even then, you can trudge out if you really need to. Unless you're living Ted Kazinski-style in a remote cabin in the woods without access to roads or transportation or electricity, you'll be fine. There is no need to bum rush the supermarket and empty its shelves of water and milk and toilet paper (what's up with people hoarding toilet paper before a storm? Is it that bad to wipe your ass of with Kleenex or paper towels for a day?) You know what you should stock up on? Booze, coffee, junk food, cigarettes (if you smoke) and a few frozen dinners in case you need actual nourishment.

Better yet, let me freak out for you, just so you're covered for the rest of winter:

AHHH! WHAT ARE YOU GOING TO DO? AHHHH! HOW WILL YOU CONTINUE TO LIVE??? YOUR COZY LITTLE HOMES ARE NO MATCH FOR THE APOCALYPTIC FROZEN PRECIPITATION ABOUT TO GENTLY DUST THE EARTH!!!!

I like to sit back and watch all the weather-people slowly go from cautiously restrained, to slightly optimistic, to mostly excited, to overwhelmed with snow-loving glee. Yes, yes, this is their moment. The rare time when you, and you, and you, are hanging onto their every word. You want to know...how much, and for how long, and how bad the snow will be. They'll be out in parkas, and galoshes, amidst all the snow drifts regaling us with stories and tales of snow-related nonsense. They will excitedly show you the meteorological storm guidance tracks. All the "snow bands" and "arctic blasts" flowing in from the West, the North. They will twitch and snicker and make snow jokes. They will feel so important. So very, very important. It is their moment in the sun. The one thing they live for, short of a tsunami hitting Florida. Yes, friends, this is their nirvana.

So yeah, I am a little testy with being stuck in the house with my kids while getting over a sinus infection. Luckily I have a favorite dress to cheer me up, which I strategically layered to keep warm.

Forever 21 denim jacket; hand-me-down See by Chloe dress; Michael Stars long sleeved tee; Hue tights; Frye boots; Nordstrom necklace; Betsey Johnson watch

 

Quinceaneras, bat mitzvahs, and ruffles ruffles ruffles

This is embarrassing.

Today I dressed kind of like a goth adolescent preparing for her quinceanera. Not that I've ever been to one, but like I've seen on Wizards of Waverly Place and late-night programming on Telemundo.

I imagine a quinceanera is kind of like a Latin American Bat Mitzvah, minus the Hebrew and phlegmatic accents.  For those non-Jews reading, allow me to explain exactly what it is. A Bat Mitzvah is a rite of passage for a thirteen year-old girl. It's a ceremony symbolizing the passage into Jewish adulthood, requiring years of preparation (in the form of tediously long Hebrew lessons, the consumption of bland, downright bizarre foods (gefilte fish, kugel, and charoset come to mind) and painfully long family traditions. For months beforehand you attend Hebrew school, where you learn violent songs about Passover and practice warbling your Torah portion with an ancient rabbi. On the big Bat Mitzvah day, you climb up onto the synagogue stage and read your Hebrew portion while your parents beam proudly from the congregation. Then you give saccharine-sweet speeches of tearful thanks to your parents and siblings. After synagogue there's a huge reception, either at a catering hall or restaurant, which is decorated with towering balloon sculptures and centerpieces made from fresh flowers and curled ribbons and cartoonish cardboard cutouts.

I had an epic Bat Mitzvah. My mother rented out an entire restaurant and invited every relative in the Tri-State Area (and some strangers from California.) I wore a off-the-shoulder white lace dress with rhinestones and beads and more lace and satin ribbons and pantyhose and white satin pumps. There were ruffles. Many, many ruffles. It was 1986, so it was okay.

The hotness that was thirteen year-old me in my Bat Mitzvah dress, with an entourage of male suitors.

In my adolescent years I attended quite a few Bat Mitzvah's, which was a fairly common experience as a Jewish girl growing up on Long Island. A Bat Mitzvah was announced with invitations constructed from four (or more) layers of embossed cardstock and translucent paper and satin ribbons, and packaged in it's own keepsake box. Each layer of paper symbolized how much money your parents were willing to flush down the toilet for your special special day. Invitations were no joke. Parents scrutinized them like Cold War spies deciphering code intercepted by intelligence agencies.

The typical Bat Mitzvah reception featured thirteen year-old's swaying to loud music (preferably from a band and not, God forbid, a DJ, because ohmygawd a band is like so much classier, you don't even want to know what the neighbors will think if we have a DJ, people will talk), and a Kosher buffet, and elaborately themed centerpieces (usually CANDYLAND!, or ON BROADWAY! or ADVENTURES AROUND THE WORLD!) and distant cousins shoving envelopes stuffed with money in your face. In my days, Bat Mitzvahs also included glow sticks and custom-made tee shirts with the date and location of the event, just in case you forgot where you slow danced for the first time and nearly got kissed right before your Grandma Helen interrupted looking for the ladies room.

As I looked at myself in today's outfit, with it's ruffled beaded sequined tunic, I immediately remembered my bat Mitzvah dress, resplendent in it's ruffled glory. I'll admit that I'm uncertain if this outfit is really me (and the tunic made me photograph lumpier than I actually am....and even after three kids, I'm in pretty decent shape) but I felt like trying something new. What do you think? Does it work or not? Is there something you'd change?

Forever 21 tunic; Gap Outlet jeggings; thrifted Justin boots; Coach bag; Forever 21 bracelets; Betsey Johnson gold watch; target rhinestone pyramid studs

 

Thrifting 101: Tips for newbies, and dealing with the squick facor

When I was a little girl, one of favorite activities was making mud pies in my front yard. My mother would send me out in my oldest, grungiest clothes with a wooden spoon and some warped Tupperware containers, and I'd go to town creating elaborate concoctions made out of dirt, leaves and basically whatever detritus I could find on our property. Getting nice and dirty never bothered me, and it took a lot to gross me out. Most little girls my own age were repelled by worms, and bugs, and blood, but I was fascinated. Sure, I loved my frilly dresses and hair ribbons. But they were always accompanied by dirt under my fingernails.

I suppose this is why I am unafraid of thrift stores. Thrift store excursions put one face-to-face with musty odors, dust, and dirt. There's a guaranteed ewww factor. Some consider the idea of rummaging through racks of use clothing distasteful, and I've received more than a few raised brows and scrunched noses after confessing my love for thrifting (you can see evidence of this passion here, and here, and here.) But I can't think of a better way to spend an afternoon.

Jentine of My Edit recently discussed this very topic in her Thrift Friday series. I was impressed by her tips for those who find thrifting intriguing, yet struggle with getting past what she calls the ick factor. However, I think there's another group of potential thrifters who could use some advice: those who have never, ever been thrifting, and are simply intimidated to enter the store in the first place. I thought I'd add my own tips to both groups. 

• First of all, ask yourself if you are the type of person who can physically handle thrifting. If you have allergies, asthma, a super strong aversion to germs, or are unable to spend much time on your feet, thrifting is probably not for you. Also, you won't always find an item in your size. You won't always find something you like, either. If you are someone who loves to rummage, would sacrifice a half day in pursuit of a bargain, can thrift without triggering allergies, and enjoys the thrill of the hunt, then thrift store shopping is for you.
   
• Decide what time to shop is best for you. You'll need at least a spare hour. Since rummaging requires energy, choose the time of day when you feel most energetic. Some stores are open at night or weekends, and I've found that fewer people visit thrift stores at night. Weekends are likely to be busier, and sales days are by far the busiest. Most thrift stores post hours and information regarding sales on their website; definitely take the time to check before planning an outing.
   
• Leave your purse in the trunk of the car (or at home.) Carrying cash in your pocket frees up your hands for sorting/digging/browsing. And avoid wearing your coat into the store for the same reason.
   
• Understand that the types of people who visit thrift stores are not necessarily the same as in your neighborhood or at church. Thrift stores attract all walks of life. This means that you may be chatted up by lonely souls seeking comfort, confronted by people with intellectual disabilities, or brush shoulders with those down on their luck. All of them have their reasons for being there; just be polite and move on to the next rack.

• If the idea of the Goodwill or the Salvation Army squicks you out, try consignment stores instead. Consignment stores hand-select their items, and some even clean clothing before making it available to customers. They usually sell higher-label merchandise too. They're a nice steps towards becoming comfortable with the idea of wearing previously worn clothing.
   
• Be honest with yourself even before trying on the item (if that's possible - many thrift stores don't include dressing rooms.) Do you really like the style overall - the arms shape, the leg flare, the neck plunge etc? Is it really your color? Don't buy clothes that you don't absolutely love, or don't quite fit, or are otherwise substandard - even if they are a bargain. It's tempting to purchase something because it's so inexpensive, but it's a waste of time, money, and space to buy something that's not quite right.
   
• Check closely for stains, tears, mended parts, stretched stitching (often hard to repair) and marks. Do pants have a shiny seat, are beads or buttons missing, is stitching coming loose? If you see these, ask yourself if they're reparable or so damaged that they're better left behind. Only get items in good condition or capable of an easy repair. Buttons, zippers, and small holes can be replaced or mended by a tailor. Perspiration stains, fade marks, and large moth holes are beyond repair.
   
• And finally, my most-important piece of advice (and I can't state this emphatically enough): Do not feel ashamed or embarrassed to be shopping second-hand. It's practical, smart, and financially sensible. And thrifting makes it possible to find some really unique, vintage pieces that no one else has. Anyone who would put you down for doing it only makes themselves look bad (and shallow.)

Now I ask you: Does any part of thrifting squick you out? Do you avoid thrift stores entirely because of the squick factor? And please share your tips for newbie thrifters!

Thrifted Kimchi Blue cardigan; thrifted Michael Stars henley; thrifted Seven For All Mankind bootcut jeans; thrifted Frye boots; thrifted vintage Whiting and Davis clutch; Betsey Johnson gold watch

 

(Thanks for the positive responses, everyone! I think I'm going to start a Thrifting Thursday series now. It's nice to see that so many people share my passion for thrift stores!)

Suit yourself: How do you stay true to your personal sense of style?

Have you ever seen the TV show Dharma and Greg? It revolves around an extremely mismatched couple - quirky, free-spirited, yoga-teaching Dharma, and conservative, old-money, silver-spoon lawyer Greg. When my husband and I were dating, Dharma and Greg was one of the few shows we enjoyed watching together, primarily because we could relate to the lead characters so well. Like Dharma, I was eclectic, liberal, and Jewish. I came from a performing arts background and had wildly colored hair. My husband, meanwhile, was a young lawyer working at a midtown Manhattan boutique law firm. He wore lots of Ralph Lauren, read Wine Spectator Magazine, and was president of his college's Young Republicans club.

As our marriage has evolved, we've both somehow managed to retain our individuality. I've gotten tattooed, remain fiercely independent, and spend at least two days a week digging through the dollar bin at the Goodwill. My husband, meanwhile, is employed at a large, extremely conservative insurance company, where he sports expensive cuff links and rep striped ties and enjoys conversations about residuary charitable bequests.

Yesterday afternoon I met him for lunch at R&D Kitchen, near his office in University Park. R&D is the kind of place visited by old-money Dallasites who wear couture purchased at Stanley Korchack and own private yachts. It is also where you dine on food like this:

That's my $16 rainbow sushi roll, and my husband's sea salt and parsley french fries.

Visiting a restaurant like this always causes a bit of a crisis concerning the need to dress appropriately, and my desire to remain true to myself. I am extremely hesitate to sacrifice my personal style in order to appease those around me. It has taken me a good long time to fully accept who I am, and embrace all the qualities that make me unique. That includes my weight, my nose, my proclivity towards vintage clothing, and my loud girlish laugh. I truly appreciate who I am, and am proud that I don't blend in with the crowd. Furthermore, due to the large tattoo on my neck and my red hair, I am undeniably noticeable and unique. I couldn't blend in if I tried. And that's perfectly fine with me. Life is too short to be anyone other than who I am.

Yves Saint Laurent said, “Fashion fades but style is eternal.”  My personal style is here to stay. It is forever. I believe that too often women downplay their personal style because they are either too busy to refine it, lack the confidence to reflect it, or fall into the trap of dressing as they believe they're "supposed to." It isn't easy to be courageous and embrace who you are. You have to be brave and authentic, and take risks. That's what dressing with courage is all about. I realized years ago that I was never going to be the glamazon my mother wanted me to be, or the romantic woman dolled up in ruffles and lace. I am only comfortable dressing as me.

However, there are occasions where it becomes necessary to reign in my personal style in order to be respectful. Dressing respectfully often means "doing as the Romans do." In an establishment like the one I visited, that translates to subtle jewelry, covered shoulders and subdued make-up. I personally have no problem trading in my 1970's beaded sheer blouse for a simple crewneck sweater, if that's what the occasion merits. Furthermore, I understand that my value as an individual is not defined by what I do or do not wear. Just because I outfit myself in long-sleeves and simpler styles does not mean that I have abandoned my own beliefs to take on that of those surrounding me.

Respecting other people's beliefs does not mean you have to give up your own. It also does not change who you are.

This morning, I actually found it rather easy to dress respectfully while remaining true to myself. My entire outfit is thrifted aside from my accessories. I'm covered up, yet fully comfortable, and feel my personal sense of style is well represented.

And my lunch was delicious.

Vintage thrifted mink cape; thrifted Gap black sweater; thrifted Urban Renewel faux leather skirt; Forever21 belt; Target tights; Kate Spade boots; Louis Vuiton Speedy bag; Betsey Johnson gold watch

Like this post? Become a follower, and follow me on Twitter and Facebook. I love my followers!!!

The most relevant survey EVER, or How many pairs of jeans do you have?

According to a Consumer Reports/ShopSmart survey, the average woman owns seven pairs of jeans, but only wears four. The Shopsmart study went on to conclude that only one in 10 women is willing to spend more than $100 on a pair of jeans, while the average price they pay hovers at $34. Younger women in the 18-34 demographic hold a slightly higher average at $60 a pair, the poll noted.

Hmmm.

After reading this article, the first thing I did was run to my closet and count my jeans. I have a collection I always considered average for women in my age bracket and neighborhood: 20 pairs of jeans, and five pairs of capris. Plus two pairs of denim shorts and two denim skirts (if we're including all denim items.) A few years ago, I had close to 75 pairs of jeans (which is really gross), but I've managed to scale down my collection quite a bit and limit what hangs in my closet to things I actually wear.

Of my 20 pairs, I wear the following 9 most regularly: My Seven for All Mankind bootcuts, Joe's Jeans jeggings, slightly ripped Paige bootcuts, a destroyed pair of AG Adriana Goldschmied boyfriend jeans, Citizens of Humanity flare-legs, Gap black and gray jeggings, and a super dark wash pair of  J Brand jeans. I buy pretty much all of my jeans from Ebay or Plato's Closet, or from The Gap Outlet, which keeps the expense down. I'd guess the average cost per pair is around $50. I have spent more than $100 on denim, but those days are long behind me.

Why do I continue to hold on to the jeans that aren't in regular rotation? Two reasons. One, They're too expensive to justify tossing, and remain in a to be sold eventually 0n eBay section in my closet  Reason number two: They're too-small, "aspirational" sizes, purchased during times when I was thinner. I hold onto these jeans with the hope that someday I'll fit into them again.

I realize that nobody NEEDS more than one pair of jeans (and if you own a pair of khakis or a skirt, you don't even need that). You don't NEED cute throw pillows or bottled water or a DVD player or a coat just for special occasions or makeup or any other of the gazillion things women might own. I don't NEED the twenty pairs of jeans I have, though I do wear more than the 9 pairs I mentioned.

I have a complex where I think I never have enough jeans. I love designer denim especially - they do magical things to my butt and elongate my legs, and  can easily be dressed up or down depending on the situation. I think my denim obsession stems at least partially from middle school, where I had only 1 pair of truly lame jeans. I hated those jeans. They were high-waisted and pinched my stomach. Every night, before I went to sleep, I prayed over the first star I saw that God would bless me with a pair of Guess jeans. I lusted over that cute little triangle on the back pocket. I even would've settled for acid wash, if that was all that was offered. We lived on a tight budget and could not afford the $40 Guess jeans cost. And by the time I managed to scrounge up enough cash from babysitting, Guess jeans were out.

In college, due to lack of money and a desire to avoid the sorority prep-girl look so prevalent on my campus, I became obsessed with tracking down the perfect pair of vintage button-fly Levis. Ideally, they were faded, torn at the knees, super soft, and worn down to a pale, pale blue. When I finally found the jeans I wanted it felt like a gift from heaven. My favorite pair had big tears in the knees, and in the winter I'd accessorize them with purple or blue fishnet tights underneath. I thought I was the bomb. Thank God there are no photos of me in that look.

J Crew turtleneck sweater; AG Adriana Goldschmied Ex-Boyfriend crop in 17 years Damaged Wash; Coach belt; Juicy Couture ballet flats; Betsey Johnson pyramid studs

Like this post? Become a follower and read along as I navigate the fashion world with wit and courage!


School days, school days; Dear old golden rule days

I spent most of high school years flat broke. On an average day, the only things in my wallet were old ticket stubs, my bus pass, and lint. My free time was spent commuting back and forth from school in Manhattan and my parent's apartment out in the wilds of Queens, leaving little to no opportunity for an after-school job. I did a lot of babysitting, though, which provided money for my morning bagel and coffee, but that was about it.

Thankfully, thrift stores in the city provided a rich plethora for cheap wardrobe opportunities. One of these stores was called Antique Boutique. The store was essentially a slightly more upscale version of Goodwill. Located on East 59th Street, next to Betsey Johnson's flagship store, Antique Boutique sold used button-fly Levi's, flannel shirts, bomber jackets, 1950's beaded cardigans and ancient concert tees. After Saturday's orchestra rehearsal I'll rush to the store with my hoarded money to load up on clothes. I spent hours digging through the racks. Unearthing the perfect pair of jean sent me into a tizzy. I'd return home clutching my bounty, eager to wear my latest find as soon as humanely possible.

On a wintry day during my senior year, I excavated what remains as my all-time favorite piece of clothing - a vintage knee-length, green plaid, Catholic schoolgirl skirt. I do not have the words to express my love for this skirt. It featured all-around pleats, a bright cheery plaid, and fit like a dream. I paired the skirt with button-downs, turtleneck sweaters, cardigans, leggings and knee socks, and my green Doc Martens (hey, it was 1992.) I lived in this skirt. I'm sure I would have felt differently if I'd been forced to attend Catholic school and wear an article of clothing similar to this as my everyday uniform. It was a novelty to me, and I loved it.

Alas, I eventually grew out of this skirt. I donated it to the Salvation Army, and attempted to recover from my loss. It was not easy. If there has been a support group for those traumatized by clothing loss, I would have been a charter member. So imagine my delight when I found almost the exact same skirt, albeit without the pleats, at Old Navy this fall. Like the original, it makes me feel young and flirty and charming. I'm certain it'll get a lot of wear in the years to come.

Old Navy cardigan, button-down, and skirt; Hue tights; Frye boots; Juicy Couture necklace; Betsey Johnson pyramid studs