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: Will wearing designer labels make you rich and influential?

When I was in my very early twenties, I went through a phase where I became obsessed by designer labels. If it was recognizable, I wanted it. I scoured the internet for designer jeans; stalked logo-ed bags in department stores; and went to bed praying for a lottery win so I could afford the trendiest item from some expensive label. Rather than focusing on fit and whether the item was truly "me," I was much more concerned by who made it and what logo it displayed.

Perhaps not coincidentally, my label whore years coincided with a relocation to a high-income suburb, the birth of my daughter, and the changing role within my marriage. With the adoption of my new identity as a mother, I searched for legitimacy among the women I met in baby music classes and mom support groups. And the easiest way for me to do so was by wearing what I considered the "right" brands. On some level, I believed that if they saw the designer logo on my handbag, they'd be impressed. This would spark their interest and secure me an invitation into their social circle. And, sadly, it did.

It came as no shock to me when I learned of a new study on The Economist illustrating just how powerful a designer label is on social acceptance. Rob Nelissen and Marijn Meijers of Tilburg University in the Netherlands examined people’s reactions to volunteers who wore clothes made by recognizable designers. In the first experiment, volunteers were shown pictures of a man wearing a polo shirt. The photo was digitally altered to include no logo, a designer logo (Lacoste or Hilfiger) or a logo generally regarded as non-luxury, Slazenger. When the designer logo appeared, the man in the picture was rated as of higher status (3.5 for Lacoste and 3.47 for Hilfiger, on a five-point scale, compared with 2.91 for no logo and 2.84 for Slazenger), and wealthier (3.4 and 3.94 versus 2.78 and 2.8, respectively).

To examine if this perception had an effect on actual behavior, researchers performed a number of other experiments. For instance, one female volunteer asked people in a shopping mall to stop and answer survey questions. One day she wore a sweater with a designer logo; the next, an identical sweater with no logo. Some 52% of people agreed to take the survey when faced with the Tommy Hilfiger label, compared with only 13% who saw no logo.

In another experiment, volunteers watched one of two videos of the same man being interviewed for a job. In one, his shirt had a logo; in the other, it did not. The logo led observers to rate the man as more suitable for the job, and even earned him a 9% higher salary recommendation.

According to Gawker, researchers found that logos act as a "status-boosting talisman." Those wearing logos were judged to be wealthier, more powerful, more intelligent, and more capable. The Economist reported that this effect can be attributed to the fact that designer labels are seen as symbols of quality, meaning only the best can pay for them. However, some might take this study as proof of how the fashion industry has turned us into a society of Pavlovian shoppers, drooling over logo bags and high-profile designers. We have become culturally wired to love logos, and have assigned an iconic quality to expensive things, treating them with a level of respect and power. This explains the billion dollar counterfeit industry that churns out knockoff handbags, jewelry, and even shoes. Knockoffs are used to gain the same illusion of power and wealth as the original. A fake LV bag might be made from faux leather in China, but it's message is the same as the genuine article.

I've largely abandoned my designer wardrobe in favor of vintage and thrifted pieces, though I'll forever be a fan of designer denim - it seems to hold up better, and I believe has a more flattering fit than less-expensive brands. And it's true that, in most cases, luxury and designer clothing is better made and longer-lasting than less-expensive pieces - I only have to compare Ralph Lauren polo to those I purchased from Old Navy as proof. But largely, what I wear has much more to do with whether it's an expression of who I am than who it is made by.

So what do you think of this survey? Have you ever purchased clothing and accessories from high-end designers to fit in and impress? Do you believe wearing logos makes you more influential? Do you think the fashion industry has brainwashed us into craving logos over quality and fit? Are we as shallow and easily manipulated as this study suggests?

Vintage thrifted J Crew denim shirt; Nordstrom Rack dress; Frye boots; thrifted Coach belt; American Apparel tights; Plato's Closet leather bracelet; World Market Catholic saints bracelet

Androgyny, Prada and Taylor Swift: My relationship with perfume

Do you wear perfume? In my extensive, scientifically conducted research (wave to the five friends I consulted as my subjects) it appears women either love perfume, or avoid it like the plague. I'll admit that I haven't always been a fan. In high school I went through a phase where the only scent I was attracted to was that of Johnson and Johnson's baby powder. Which is comforting and soothing in a way similar to fluffy down pillows, Grandma's hugs, and chamomile tea.

I was first introduced to fragrance in junior high during a clandestine meeting in the girls room. A friend passed me a can of Love's Baby Soft, which she aggressively applied in a noxious cloud. Love's Baby Soft was the must-have scent among those of the junior high set in the 70's and 80's. Featuring top notes of talcum powder, babies, innocence, and light-heartedness, Love's was simple. Basic. It was a pastel angora-blend sweater, the kind that shed little bits of material all over your corduroy skirt but you didn't really care.


I left the Baby Soft behind when I entered high school, and stuck to my Johnson and Johnson's powder. After I graduated, Calvin Klein introduced a revolutionary fragrance meant for both men and women that spread like herpes - CK One. Everything about this scent screams 1994. The packaging was made from 100% recycled materials, and the bottle is sleek and austere, a nod to the 90's minimalism trend that dominated runways. CK One smelled clean and crisp. It was reminiscent of sleek, unsmiling women who flat ironed their center-parted hair, and carried Prada nylon backpacks.


My brush with CK One was short-lived, probably because I'm uncomfortable embracing androgyny. Next came Clinique's Happy, a fruity, citrusy scent. If Happy were a person, she’d be The Girl Next Door. A particularly perky one. She’s young, easygoing, carefree, friendly to everyone, and she smiles a lot. For awhile I alternated between Happy and Juicy Couture, a sickeningly sweet scent with notes of watermelon, apple, pink passion fruit and lilies. Juicy is something Barbie would wear. Or Taylor Swift. I was a fan of these scents when I was a new mom, and I craved a simpler, sweeter time, absent of four a.m feedings and shirts accessorized by spit-up.

As of this moment, my favorite perfume is A Scent by Issey Miyake (which I'm dangerously low on.) It's a warm, delicate, feminine scent with hints of jasmine, hyacinth and cedar - very sophisticated, romantic and quiet. I like to wear it with cozy materials, like soft sweaters and velvet slippers, such as the items I chose today:

Thrifted Marc by Marc Jacobs cardigan; thrifted J Jill white shirt; thrifted Seven For All Mankind button-fly jeans; Stuart Weitzman velvet flats; Nordstrom rack necklace

If you wear perfume, what's your favorite scent?

(Like this post? Check out my thrifting 101 series, my thoughts on staying true to your personal sense of style, and my internal debate over a velveteen blazer. And consider becoming a follower. I LOVE my readers!)

2010 No-jean challenge: A review

Yesterday brought the end of my no-jean challenge. Needless to say, I was thrilled.

I can't say a month without my jeans was easy. Every morning I would walk through my closet and wistfully gaze at my bootcuts and straight-legs. I'd affectionately touch the softly faded denim and mentally count down the days until I could wear them again. I cursed this challenge. When I went shopping, I'd automatically imagine how a certain sweater or blouse would look with my favorite pair of jeans. My eyes were drawn, almost against my will,  to denim featured in magazines I subscribe to. It seemed that everywhere I looked there were people in jeans - strutting proudly at the supermarket, drinking coffee at Starbucks, chasing after their kids at the playground. I began to feel downright depressed.

Then something strange happened. I began to venture out into skirts and dresses, and discovered that they were as comfortable to wear as jeans and perhaps even more flattering. I felt much more feminine, and even pretty (which is not a word I would use to describe myself.) I remembered why I lived in skirts as a high school and college student: they were easy to wear, and encouraged me to feel girly and sweet.

Near the end of the challenge, I realized why I favor jeans so strongly: they cover me up. Like most women, I struggle with negative body image and am especially self-conscious of my legs. I have terrible anxiety about exposing my gams in public. Shorts terrify me. Because of this fear I abandoned my skirts and dresses years ago. I am learning to accept myself, flaws and all, and venturing back into feminine shapes is a courageous stance towards self-acceptance.

Now that the challenge has ended, will I fall back into my daily uniform of denim? I hope not. Because life is too short not to live bravely. Bring on the skirts and dresses! Today, though, I'm wearing my blue jeans. Just for today.

Would a month without jeans be a challenge for you? How would you make it work? 


Vintage thrifted blazer; Raygun navy tee; Gap long-sleeved white tee; Seven For All Mankind jeans; ancient Cole Haan boots; Forever 21 belt; Nordstrom Rack necklace



(This tee is the bomb. I saw it on the host from Man Vs. Food and had to have it, as it pays homage to three things dear to my heart: Iowa, the Beastie Boys, and Brooklyn, NY.)

My battle against rainy day gloom

Today dawned chilly and overcast. It is the perfect day for old movies, new books, and mugs of herbal tea while snuggling under an old quilt.

Truthfully, I am a girl that thrives in sunshine. Dreary days make me feel, well, dreary. I easily sink into a depression. I get antsy and itchy and morose. While some people might find an endless stretch of sunshiney weather monotonous, I can't imagine living in a climate without it, which is why I'm so grateful to be living in Texas.

Perhaps I'd be more well-rounded if I learned to embrace rainy days. Days like today seem perfectly tailored for poets, artists and other creative types. They hang out in coffee shops scribling into notebooks and pasting things into scrapbooks. They are the kind of people who drink whiskey in dive bars in the middle of the afternoon, and drive rusting old pickup trucks or vintage motorcycles. They engage in long, esoteric conversations with strangers they've just met. Bright sunny days dry up their talent and put them on edge. Chipper people make them bristle.

I imagine the slightly shabby, somewhat glamorous life rainy day people live. Their homes are cave-like and decorated in Gothic splendor, with heavy dark furniture, floor-grazing damask drapes, and light fixtures made from iron. Stacks of dusty books line their hallways. There is always a roaring fire in the fireplace, and a fully stocked bar with absinthe and red wine. Rainy day types listen to Classical music from the Romantic period and experimental jazz. They light incense, collect Art Deco jewelry, and shuffle around in vintage embroidered capes and slippers made from crushed velvet. They somehow manage to look deranged and gorgeous all at the same time.

While I indulge in the occasional glass of whiskey, I could never be a rainy day person. For one, my home features ground-in Cheerios in the carpet and smells of Eau de Playdoh. Most poetry makes me cry. Overcast days don't encourage my creativity; instead, they make me practically suicidal.


I decided to fight today's creeping rainy day depression with a cheerfully colorful outfit. 

Thrifted vintage 1950's embroidered cardigan; thrifted J Crew silk blouse; thrifted Gap pants; Vince Camuto ballet flats; Louis Vuitton pochette; Nordstrom Rack dragonfly necklace; Marc Jacobs watch; vintage diamond tennis bracelet; Betsey Johnson daisy studs

Why I blog

I'm an avid blog reader, especially of fashion blogs. These blogs chronicle the style musings of young, twenty-something women, who somehow manage to look consistently fantastic. I've learned a lot by reading these blogs. Mostly college students or recent graduates, they live in studio apartments with their hipster boyfriends and spend their days hanging out with friends, seeing concerts, crafting their own jewelry, and perusing thrift stores.  They often get spending money from their parents and are gifted expensive clothes from relatives. Because of these blogs, I've been encouraged to delve into my closet and look at fashion in a much more creative way. In addition,  I've expanded the range of stores I visit beyond those at the mall. I now thrift with regularity, focusing on items that express my individual sense of style rather than what labels they are. I'll admit that I used to have a teensy tiny problem as a label whore, buying things just because they were of a certain brand, rather than how they fit. I'm thankful that I've broken that habit because there's so much more to dressing well than wearing the trendiest or most coveted brand.

While perusing my favorite blogs the other day, I realized there was one thing that bothered me about them. While I consider myself young at heart, I am not a unencumbered twenty-something living in a studio apartment with her hipster boyfriend. I spend my free time chasing after my kids at the park, cleaning up one of my twins' millionth juice spill, and catching up on laundry. I'm lucky if I can grab a moment to read something other than the instructions for the Wii, much less attend a concert. And I have a husband to focus on, a mortgage to pay and school events to attend.


I suppose that's why I felt the need to create my own personal style blog. I understand that as a parent, fashion means something different to me that your average twenty-something. It has to be comfortable and functional, while also remaining stylish. Affordability is also important, as it would be inappropriate for me to rely on my parents for a clothing allowance. And, for the record, I am a thirty-six year old woman. I have no desire to dress as these young women do. Tight skirts, thigh-high boots, and midriff-baring tops would look ridiculous on me. And I'm perfectly fine with that.

American Eagle shirt; Texas Rangers tee; Old Navy skirt; J Crew tights; Frye cowboy boots; Nordstrom Rack necklace; Plato's Closet bracelet; Marc Jacobs watch, Forever 21 belt

Vroom vroom

I've never been the type drawn to bad boys. When I was in my dating prime (a long, long time ago) my heart was decidedly pulled towards scholarly, preppy types. My ideal boyfriend was a law, pre-med or political science major who wore corduroy, freshly pressed oxford shirts and a lot of Ralph Lauren. He did not smoke, do drugs, or get anything less than a B+ on his papers. The ideal guy drove a Saab or older-model BMW he helped pay for from money earned tutoring high school students.  He smelled like Polo and listened to Billy Joel and The Cranberries. I suppose I stereotyped these boys to be stable, reliable, and thoughtful, the type to pick me up on time and help me with my calculus. (I did, eventually, marry a lawyer, whom I might add has all the things I was looking for.)


I was an extremely serious college student, the type who felt guilty when they missed class and hung out in the T.A office to surreptitiously gleam tips for acing the next exam. Honestly, I didn't have much fun at all (unless you consider pulling all-nighters cramming for your statistics final fun.) I never attended a frat party, didn't drink before my 21st birthday, and went to bed by ten. I also worked two jobs and carried a full course load, so perhaps I didn't have the time nor the energy to party.


The absence of a traditional teenage rebellion eventually caught up with me. A few years ago, I got my nose pierced, the gateway drug towards my first tattoo. One became two, became three, became thirteen (oops.) I know it's kind of weird that I acted out at 33. Maybe I wasn't ready to break the mold until then. In any case, when I saw a Triumph moto tee at Plato's, I was all over it. I have no desire to careen down the road on a bike, but there's something symbolic about owning an article of clothing with one on it.

J Crew vintage denim shirt; Triumph motorcycle tee (Plato's Closet); Nordstrom Rack necklace; Forever 21 skinny belt; Forever 21 brocade skirt; J Crew tights, Jessica Simpson booties, Forever 21 rhinestone bracelets.

Yes, these booties again. I will probably be a cripple by tonight.