Outfit Post: The labels we wear on the inside

This past Saturday night I went to see the Black Angels with Erin of Work With What You've Got. It was loud, and hot, and the audience was at capacity with bearded and ponytailed twenty-something hipsters in black concert tees, skinny jeans and Chucks. The venue smelled like beer and pot and cigarettes and a million other unidentifiable odors. I wore a fetching ensemble composed of a Forever 21 hot-pink leopard sports bra under a lace trapeze top, paired with a thrifted vintage black skirt and black leather platform sandals. With my tattoos and bright red hair, I thought I blended in pretty well, despite the fifteen year-age difference between me and the rest of the crowd. After five hours of talking and singing and yelling and dancing and people-watching, I eventually crawled home after one o'clock in the morning. All in all, it was a fantastic night.

However, on Sunday morning I was in serious pain. I couldn't hear out of my left ear. My throat was raw. My head ached something fierce. And my feet were sore from hours spent in those platforms (which I wore despite warnings from my husband that they'd make me a cripple before the night was over. Okay, husband, you were right. There, I said it.) I spent most of the day popping Advil and lying on the couch curled in a fetal position.

In the wake of my post-concert trauma, I started to question whether I should have attended the event in the first place. I wondered about the condition of the other concert-goers the next morning. Were they suffering from pounding headaches and sore throats? Did their feet hurt? And the came the inevitable questions: Was I too old to have been there? Did I look ridiculous? Were my days of late nights behind me? Did I belong at home, watching depressing sitcoms on CBS and clipping coupons for things like Sunsweet prunes?

While pondering these questions, I was reminded of a recent post on Psychology Today about the internal labels we carry. The author explored the life-long struggle many of us have to shake off the limits we think define us. Often these labels have been internalized for years, and the fight against them can feel like a never-ending challenge.

Reading this article led to some fairly deep introspection. I mentally flipped through ways I label myself.

"You're too old to stay up until all hours."
"You're too fat to wear those skinny jeans."
"You can't shop in that store."
"You're not talented enough to be a writer."
"You can't make a long road trip by yourself."
"You're not stylish/cool/youthful enough to wear that outfit."
"You're not fit enough to run a 10k."
"You shouldn't leave the house without make-up."

Labels have a way of sticking around. Often they've been adopted following a traumatic event or conversation with an important person in your life. My mother was a strict enforcer of rules, and I grew up believing that there were certain things I just couldn't do because they were inappropriate, unbecoming or unladylike. That included wearing certain types of clothes, staying out late, or even going places alone. Growing up with such strict limits also discouraged me from even trying to challenge them - why have hope when I'm just going to fail? The defeatist, pessimistic nature of labels keeps us confined and crippled by self-doubt and insecurity. Criticism from a boss, close friend, or teacher can also reinforce the ways we label ourselves. Sometimes it only takes the slightest reminder to trigger our biggest fears and doubts.

Thankfully, I'm determined to challenge the ways I label myself. Despite the fears that I was going to look redonk, I wore that neon leopard bra. I danced and sang at the top of my lungs and stayed out late. And I had a fantastic time. My morning after guilt is inevitable after challenging myself, but it's no excuse for me to continue to abide by labels.

Do you believe that you have internalized labels that limit yourself from being who you are? What are some ways you label yourself? Are there things you believe you just can't or shouldn't do? What do you do to challenge these labels?

Thrifted Target tuxedo jacket; Forever 21 lace tank; Forever 21 sports bra; thrifted vintage skirt; White Mountain sandals; thrifted vintage Coach satchel; TIKKR watch; Forever 21 rhinestone bracelets

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: My first kiss went a little like this...

Today I am wearing shorts with tights and boots. The last time I sported this look was in 1988. I had a really unfortunate perm and spent hours making mix tapes (y'all know what a cassette is, right? It's a demonic device that get tangled and twisted and eventually knotted into one gigantic mess that leaves you swearing and defeated.) I had also just received my first kiss, and drew the following conclusions about kissing and life in general:

1. Kissing is disgusting. 
2. Kissing is gross. 
3. Kissing is overrated.
4. I will never kiss anyone ever again. 
5. Ever.

These sentiments were not exactly those I expected to have after fourteen years of watching the birthday-cake-sitting-on-the-kitchen-table kissing scene in Sixteen Candles, and the dropping-the-purse-in-the-rain-in-the-parking-lot-after-prom kissing scene in Pretty in Pink.

I met First Kiss during a spring break jaunt with my family to a friend's farm in Upstate NY. He was a sixteen year old country boy with sandy blond hair that fell into his eyes in a sexy, pre-Justin Bieber sort of way. For a week we swam together in the lake, went out for ice cream, and talked around the fire late into the evenings. On my last day of my trip he led me into a barn, through dusty horse stalls and towards a dark corner. I knew in my head that he was going to kiss me that day. He knew I had never been kissed, and that I wanted my first kiss to be with him. Plus, I was fourteen and scared that if I didn’t kiss someone (him) soon I would surely die an old maid.

He leaned across and took me by surprise. Instead of the lustful, drawn-out, passionate staring into one another's eyes I expected before our mouths met, I felt a forceful smash of the lips to the face and a tongue halfway down my throat (or so it felt.) It was too wet, too slimy, too aggressive.There was no romance. No passion. I felt disgusted and duped, but I also knew that wasn't how it was supposed to feel. Unfortunately, that kiss did repel me from kissing for quite awhile. I seriously thought that I could never enjoy it. Ever.

Thankfully, I dated a lot of boys after First Kiss, and I eventually learned that as intimate as a kiss is, it's even better when it's with someone who really knows what they're doing. One should not need a shower after being kissed. The lips should not feel bruised. And if the sensation of being choked is present, run like hell. Sure, there's a time for full blown, against the wall, hands on the face, unrestrained passionate kissing accompanied by the frantic removal of clothing. But then again, a sweet brushing of the lips, simple in its intent, is just as delicious.

I was thinking of First Kiss when I got dressed this morning. Surely he'd approve of my tights under shorts styling. Despite the fact that it's been years since I pulled off this look, I think I did pretty well.


What was your first kiss like? Did it intrigue you, or repel you? Do you think bad kissing is a relationship deal-breaker? And how do you feel about the denim shorts with tights revival?

Gap windowpane blouse; Gap Outlet tee (under blouse); Gap denim shorts) Gap Outlet belt; target tights; thrifted J Crew boots; Gap crossbody belt; Plato's Closet leather belt

Oufit Post: In which I rant against rompers

* I begin with a disclaimer. A list of things I DO NOT HATE. Pay attention because it's important for you to know that although I DO HATE some things, I am not a HATER. I do not drink of the haterade, as it were.

I DO NOT HATE:

• People who wear rompers.
• People who manufacture rompers.
• People who sell rompers.
• People who buy rompers.
• People who model rompers.
• People who design rompers.
• People who vehemently disagree.
• People who won't even bother to read this.

Got it? Okay, good, so let's begin.

I hate rompers. I hate rompers because: 

• They don't fit me. Truth be told, most rompers are designed for tall thin girls who smoke gauloises cigarettes and drink vokda tonics and somehow manage to look gorgeously glamorous without washing their hair for 10 days. Such as my friend Erin, who bought a denim romper in Austin and looks amaze-balls in it.  For short women with inner thighs and non-concave stomachs, such as myself, rompers are extremely difficult to pull off. Last summer I wasted countless hours trying in vain to find a romper that was both flattering and and didn't remind me of toddler wear. This was an epic fail. At some point I had to pause to ask myself "WHY, Elissa, are you continuing on such a pointless, torturous, emotional quest?" So I stopped. And my world became bucolic again.

• They are not comfortable. I know there are many women out there who will argue this point. "But it's one piece and so comfy!" they'll squeal. In my experience, the crotch-to-neck ratio of a romper is designed for someone with no torso. And let's not even talk about the camel-toe, because I'm too much of a lady to go there. AND, you're probably wondering why I'm so educated with the fit of rompers. Well, at one point, I actually did own one. Every time I slipped it on I wondered how such a seemingly innocent article of clothing managed to fit beautifully at the waist and arms but pulled at my neck and, uh, ladybits and made me feel like I was being STRANGLED AND OH MY GOD GET THIS THING OFF OF ME. And then there's the issue of wedgies. I rest my case.

• Dresses/skirts/pants/shorts/capris (well, that one's debatable) are infinitely more flattering than a romper. I luuuuve to wear a dress. I look better in a skirt. I feel feminine and comfortable (and do not have to spend a minute worrying about crotch issues.) My husband agrees, but that doesn't really matter because what I wear is a big part of how I express myself and how I take care of myself. If I wore a romper two days a week, I'd be spending two days a week not doing what makes me happy or what makes me feel good. In a world of bills and stress and devastating earthquakes and tsunamis why not do something that makes you happy?

Now, I ask you: Is there an article of clothing that you just don't get? Are you a fan of rompers? Am I being redonkulous?

Thrifted Junk Food Lynard Skynard tee; thrifted Paige jeans; Target belt; Gap sandals; Urban Outfitters necklace; Plato's Closet leather bracelet; eBay gold and turquoise bracelet; World Market Catholic saints bracelet; Marc Jacobs watch; Fossil turquoise earrings

Outfit Post: Do you dress older or younger than you really are?

I'm going to start this post with a confession: I am closer to 40 than I am to 20. A lot closer. However, I wear clothes that most twenty-somethings embrace - such as miniskirts, mixed patterns, trapeze tanks (like I have on today) and platform booties. My favorite stores include Forever 21, Lulu's, and Urban Outfitters, stores that attract twenty-somethings like bees to honey. And I love my tattoos, crazy bright red hair, and willingness to experiment with my ever-changing personal style.

However, as I've gotten older, I've become a bit more concerned about dressing age-appropriately while continuing to wear the things that make me feel the most me. I cannot relate to the desperation to look younger that some women have. I will never inject my face with poison to banish wrinkles. I will never willingly fork over money to get my lips plumped, cellulite treated, or face lifted. To be honest, when I get dressed in the morning, I don't spend much time thinking about the age-appropriateness of my outfit. If I like how I look, that's enough for me, whether I'm garbed in Forever 21 or pulling on an Ann Taylor cardigan and pants.

However, I was intrigued by a January survey from British department store Debenhams, which reveals that a whopping 89% of women "desire to dress younger than their years," and that 55% consider 70 the ideal age to finally start dressing the part of someone born in their birth year. According to CNBC, "Most women felt that their thirties and forties were torn between dressing frumpier when adjusting to demands of babies and small children and a growing concern with looking younger. Over 50% said they started to dress younger in their thirties and 90% admitted they had started to dress younger by their mid-forties."

A spokesperson for the store says, "You only have to look at celebrity examples like Elle Macpherson and Sophia Loren to see that women are looking younger than ever. So it's no surprise that our customers are also dressing for how they feel, rather than what it says on their drivers license - and we want to encourage them." 

Perhaps the most revealing part of the survey was that only 12% of men, by comparison, had ever considered dressing to look younger. 

For most women, adapting your style to your age is no different to dressing for your body type, or your personal style, or your lifestyle. Defining, and dressing age appropriately, is a touchy subject for many women. This study led me to wonder why age-appropriate dressing is a tricky area to navigate:

• People don’t like to be labeled: Judging people as groups instead of individuals poses problems. We prefer to be seen as unique creatures, and how we chose to dress is definitely an individual choice. For example, saying that “women over 40 should not wear miniskirts” is far too general. How short is the skirt? Are you 41 or 89?

• The discrepancy between body and mind: The physical signs of aging start to kick in during our late thirties and early forties. Yet it’s exactly at this age where our intellect and experience really come into their own. Many women are more accepting of themselves. So just as we are becoming more confident and sure of who we are, our bodies start to let us down.

• Dressing to hold onto our youth: We can’t get back the years that have passed, and realizing that they’re gone can be a hard blow to accept. As a result, some women chose to dress younger as a way of retaining their youth.

I think I may start to gravitate towards the women's section a little more when I am, oh, say around 60. I am 36 years old (there, I said it) but can't see myself falling out of love with my skinny jeans, form-fitting tops and mini skirts any time soon. I do wear much less revealing clothing than I did when I was younger - no more low-cut tops or extremely short, tight dresses for me. On the flip side, I know plenty of women younger than me who like to dress "older", exploring their personal style through more modest pieces such as knee-length skirts and blazers.

I love the idea that age is just a number-  check out Helen Mirren in a bikini! - but when do we stop looking like we're flaunting our fabulous figures and start looking a little ridiculous for trying too hard? Do you agree with the survey that says 70 is the perfect time to start dressing your age? Do you think you fairly represent your generation when you get dressed, whatever that may be? Do you dress older or younger than you really are? Leave a comment and discuss!

TJ Maxx trapeze tank; Target racerback tank (underneath); Gap Outlet Cargos; Gap studded sandals; Urban Outfitters necklace; TIKKR watch

Pattern Mixing: Everyone's a critic

There are a lot of things I love about blogging. I love drumming up topics to write about and doing research for a post. I love sharing tips regarding thrifting and shopping for vintage. I love networking with other fashion bloggers through my own blog, IFB, Twitter, and Facebook. And I love reading other blogs and learning all I can about the ever-changing world of fashion and personal style.

However, the thing I adore most about blogging is the wealth of learning opportunities, both within and outside of fashion. Because, truth be told, I'm a gigantic nerd. I was one of those people who cried at their high school and college graduations not because I was afraid to enter the "real world," but because it meant I would no longer be in class. Whether it's statistics, html code, or the proper way of blending eye shadows, I'm that hand-waving, brown-nosing, front row student bursting with enthusiasm. I take copious notes. I watch how-to clips on YouTube. I make magazine pages hemorrhage with fluorescent yellow highlighter. I am a certifiable dork.

This week one of my goals was to try my hand at pattern-mixing. In case you've been living under a rock, forming an ensemble around mixed patterns (and textures) has been a hot fashion trend since, well, Marc Jacob's plaid-heavy grunge collection back in 1992. Naturally, I planned my attack carefully. I methodically researched pattern-mixing on Google, bringing up tips from a encyclopedic collection of different sources. Glamour suggested working around a base color. Academichic recommended allowing one pattern be the dominant player over another, such as a tweed skirt with a striped sweater. Suzy of Miss Vinyl Ahoy advised me to think of one pattern as a solid, such as a blouse with small polka dots or a tiny print, and pair a bolder item with it. On Kelinda.KELINDA, I also learned to pair loud patterns with more subtle ones, while Pixie In Pumps' style inspiration folder gave me a glimpse into pattern-mixing on the runway. And no one does pattern mixing as well as my style guru Erin of Work With What You've Got.

This morning I woke up feeling refreshed and confident, armed with pages of research and closet full of patterned separates. I would so rock this, I decided. My gold cable-knit sweater, striped long-sleeved tee, and floaty floral skirt seemed perfect for my debut into pattern-mixing. Carefully I put the pieces on, sauntered out my bedroom, and left the house for a day of errands and thrifting.

Either I failed miserably at pattern mixing, or the public isn't quite ready for this clearly adventurous look, because I received many quizzical looks during the day. Some women outright stared. Teenagers elbowed each other, encouraging closer examination of my ensemble. The check-out woman at Kroger informed me that I looked"...interesting" (insert sneer.) However, the harshest criticism originated from my own family, when my youngest child coldly announced that I looked "like a crazy hobo." Harsh. Then again, this is how he prefers to dress:

Foam Mario Bros. hat, white shorts, and a blankie. It's what all the hip people are wearing this season, apparently.

So I'm not that worried. I'll admit that mixing patterns was definitely out of my comfort zone. My particular combination took some getting used to. And I felt kind of rebellious all day...which was sort of fun.

Have you tried mixing patterns? Or do you shy away from this trend? Why or why not? And did I indeed fail miserably?

Thrifted Loft cardigan; thrifted J Crew long-sleeved tee; thrifted vintage Ann Taylor silk skirt; Gap Outlet tights; Nine West oxfords, Target belt

Outfit Post: Is women's fashion man-repelling or merely absurd?

What is the point of fashion? Self-expression? Creativity? Individuality? According to one blogger, fashion is about repelling men. Oh. Okay. Darn.

The blogger in question is named Leandra Medine. Here is her fashion "thing", as described by the New York Times:

Since April 2010, Ms. Medine, 21, has been publishing photos of herself on her blog, the Man Repeller, as well as shots of similarly challenging recent runway looks: fashions that, though promoted by designers and adored by women, most likely confuse - or worse, repulse - the average straight man. These include turbans, harem pants, jewelry that looks like a torture instrument, jumpsuits, ponchos, furry garments resembling large unidentified animals, boyfriend jeans, clogs and formal sweatpants.

Medine's blog is a tongue-in-cheek chronicle of her adventures in these bewildering articles of clothing. A quick examination shows her in suspenders, argyle socks with pony hair sandals, and drop-crotch pants, posing for photographers with other slovenly-chic high-profile fashion bloggers. She argues that now, more than ever, designers are producing clothes which push the boundaries of fashion so far that they turn off (and repel) the average man.

The fashion world has taken notice. Medine's blog won top honors in last month's Bloglovin' Awards. And fans have begun to use her blog name as a verb, as in, “I am totally man-repelling today.” (Warning: This might have to become part of my vernacular from now on. I think I'll start today. My belt is totes man-repelling. Uh, yeah.)

On first glance, The Man Repeller seems very similar to other blogs I read: a young, coltish woman mixes thrift, discount and runway pieces in a haphazard way that somehow looks chic in the end (while these pieces would transform me into a schizophrenic hobo.) However, I truly believe that this girl doesn't understand men. On average, men do not care what you wear. If you're that concerned about repelling men with your outfit, ask yourself these questions first:

1. Have you showered in the last 24 hours?
2. Do you have a vagina?
3. Are you single?

If you can answer yes to any or all 3 of these questions you will fail to repel men. An outfit composed of six types of material might confuse them, sure. Bizarre as they might be, most of the clothes Medine wears only underscores that she is slim and elegant, albeit in a quirky, offbeat sort of way. Even in a homemade dress constructed from office supply paper and a body stocking, Medine looks charming and sort of cute.

Furthermore, I don't believe women's fashion is about attracting men. As far as I'm concerned, fashion is about self-expression. There's freedom in being creatively attired and wearing pieces that communicate your individual sense of style. Shopping for the perfect heels, the sharpest tailored blazer, and the ultimate red lipstick is a uniquely individual, personally rewarding experience. Choosing an outfit is even more so. When I get dressed in the morning, it's always from the perspective of what I want to wear, what I find comfortable and appealing, and what message I want to send to the world. I really could care less about what men think.

Despite its name and the running joke Medine has about not getting action because of the ridiculous things she wears, The Man Repeller isn't really about men. It's about the absurdity of 'high' fashion - stuff that is just plain ugly and confusing. Medine is funny, and her advice regarding how to be featured on fashion blogs like The Sartorialist was totally accurate and literally made me chortle out loud. Hint: wear as many different types of fabric as possible in multiple clashing pieces. Add heinous lipstick, an affected snarl, sky-high clogs, and you're in.

According to my husband, I am not man-repelling in this outfit today at all. Actually, he described it as "hot". So I suppose I need to work on my skills a little bit more. Maybe if I added a turban, leg warmers and suspenders I'd make the cut.

Thrifted Gap sweater; thrifted Loft skirt; Target belt; We Love Colors tights; Kate Spade boots; thrifted vintage crocodile bag; Fossil earrings

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

Valentine's Day lingerie: Take the sexy back

So Valentine's Day is upon us. I know this because every commercial on TV seems to be  1) advertising sparkly sparkly jewelery for that "special lady", 2) a food porn montage of chocolate indulgences, and 3) a creepy KY 30 second spot of a pasty English couple winking suggestively over breakfast. Not to mention the grotesque displays of cards, flowers, stuffed animals, and heart-printed crap dominating store windows.

But I have to admit that I love the holiday. I adore any excuse to be wined and dined and receive extravagant floral displays. I love hearing Valentine's day engagement stories, and catching a Lifetime Move Network marathon of cheesy romantic movie, and helping my kids construct cards out of stickers and Elmer's Glue. I even love those chalky conversation hearts.

Unfortunately, Valentine's day is also marketed as an occasion for us to dress like underage sex-workers. The holiday brings about an overabundance of polyester-blend, satiny, scratchy-lace embellished lingerie to department stores, discount stores, mall stores and catalogs. Seemingly every day for the last month, my inbox (and mailbox) has been flooded with lurid images of lingerie - pink French Maid's outfits, red and black teddy sets, and see-through negligees. There are "outfits" so complicated they practically require a master's degree in engineering just to put on, with open backs, halter tops, satin ties and wrist cuffs.

Let's take a closer look at some of these fetching ensembles:

This cut-out teddy is a study in geometry, perfect for that architecture or graphic design major.

Truss both yourself and that cornish game hen in this little concoction. Non-functional apron included.

This one is just plain confusing. What are we supposed to do with that continuous line from cleavage to crotch? Is it some kind of instructional device for men who cannot otherwise find their way to a lady's bits?

I understand that, for some of us, Valentine's is merely a day we're supposed to get laid. Pre-fornication trinkets in the way of perfume and candy and lacy strips of material are purchased specifically for this reason. I'm not opposed to spending money on a pretty bra and panties for the occasion. But when I do, I am clear that my comfort and taste comes first. Personally, I hate the idea that women are supposed to dress solely for the pleasure of men, in a uniform of black and red, sheer and lacy. I am sure men are as susceptible to social pressures as anyone, but, in my opinion, it's basically useless to consider what a man's lingerie preferences are. Mostly they just don't care, unless they're entertaining an adolescent fantasy inspired by late-night programming on Cinemax.

Here's my proposal: This Valentine's Day, wear what you want and makes you feel best. Maybe you prefer cotton boy-shorts and a white tank. Or perhaps you're more into silk negligees and thigh-highs. Whatever your taste, wear what makes you feel good - whether that means sexy, or comfortable, or ultra-feminine. Let's dress for ourselves first. Call it empowerment, or self-love. While it's good to pay attention to your partner's needs, it's even more important to incorporate your own. Because when you feel confident and beautiful, everyone wins.

You know what makes me feel my best? Not having plastic/metal/other stiff things poking me in weird places. Not having straps digging into my shoulders. Not having red marks on my skin from elastic bands. And feminine, soft, pretty outfits like today's. What I'm wearing underneath is for only me and my husband to know.

One Girl Who cashmere sweater; Gap camisole; Anthropologie skirt; Target belt; thrifted vintage boots; Nordstrom necklace

Outfit Post: From Russia with love

A little haiku I whipped up describing yesterday morning:

24 degrees

Jet Blue take me to AZ

It's cold as balls here

Today will be the first warm day we've had here in North Dallas in a long, long, long while. Or two weeks. I've spent the majority of the time huddled under down throw blankets, nursing mugs of tea while shivering next to my space heater. I've been cranky, irritable, and melancholy, tearfully reminiscing over memories of warm days...days when I sat outdoors on restaurant patios drinking coffee, people watching, reading my Kindle, and blissfully bathing in sunlight.

However, while getting dressed this morning in yet another outfit based around warm layers, it occurred to me that there's one great thing about winter - dressing for it. I love cold weather clothes. Give me a pair of tall leather boots and a heavy wool coat and I'm a happy girl. I love being cocooned in layers. I love heavy tights. I love chunky knit Scandinavian wool. I love wearing mittens, and soft scarves, and thick sheepskin boots. And I adore cuddling into flannel pajama bottoms at night.

There's something undeniably romantic about winter clothes. Sometimes, when I'm getting dressed on a frigid cold morning like today's, I pretend I'm a Russian princess, or Julie Christie in Doctor Zhivago, about to accompany a dark and swarthy vodka-drinking czar on a horse-drawn sleigh ride into the night. I would wear folkloric wool dresses and wide peasant belts and fur muffs, with an enchanted, faraway look on my face. We'd softly glide to our Byzantine-influenced Kiev flat, where he'd light us a massive fire and read me poetry by Alexandr Pushkin as I nibbled on blintzes with creme fraiche and caviar. It would all be very Eastern European opulence, with crushed velvet and ballet and cigarettes and sable coats. And horses. Horses we will ride bareback. Because that's how they do it in Russia. Or so I've seen on The History Channel.

Temperatures are predicted to reach the seventies here next week, and I'm prepared for a moment of sadness when I trade in my sweaters for lightweight blouses. But just for a moment. Because my spring clothes miss me too.


What's your favorite season to dress for? 

Old Navy cardigan; thrifted Old navy button-down; thrifted Gap wide-leg jeans; Target belt; thrifted Doc Marten oxfords

 

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

 

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

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Laura Ingalls, fashion icon and bad ass

When I was seven, there were only three things I wanted in this world:

1. Long, wavy, glossy blonde hair, like the girl in the Johnson and Johnson's Baby Shampoo commercial,
2. A pony, preferably white, whom I would name Candy, and
3. To be a rough and tumble prairie woman in a faded floral dress, crossing the country in a covered wagon.

As a young girl, my all-time favorite books were those from the Little House On The Prairie series by Laura Ingalls Wilder. Did you ever read them? Little House follows the adventures of the Ingalls family - Ma Caroline, Pa Charles, Mary, Laura, Carrie, and baby Grace - as they travel through the Midwest during the nineteenth century, searching for a hospitable place to settle. The books are told from Laura's perspective, and they do a beautiful job describing the rigors of life in the nineteenth century; specifically, the struggles the family faced against disease, frigid cold, governmental regulations, and Native Americans competing for the same land and food. 

Although I loved everything about the books, Laura was what drew me in so deeply. I desperately, desperately wanted to be Laura. Because, let's face, Laura was kind of a bad ass, and she led a suitably bad ass adventuresome life. I wanted to call my father Pa, and help him build a dugout house from the side of a hill, and listen to him trill out a hillbilly folk song on his violin. I wanted to wear faded floral dresses and pinafores with petticoats peeking out.  I wanted a dog named Jack to scamper next to me while I chased frogs out of the pond.  I wanted an older sister to squabble with (no offense to my younger brother, with whom I shared many legendary battles.)  I wanted a mother as sweet as Caroline, who wore a bucolic smile while darning homespun dresses. But, mostly, I wanted to challenge that mean, nasty Nellie Oleson in an epic mudfight, just like Laura did. Laura was loving and affectionate, but also mischievous and scrappy. I wanted to be the same. Hell, I still want to be her.

I was thinking about Laura when I plucked this dress out of my closet. In another form or color, the floral print might be dainty. But here it kind of smacks you in the face. It's feisty and still kind of sweet. If Laura was around today, it's something I imagine she might pick out, now that she can shop beyond the mercantile.

Forever 21 denim jacket; Forever 21 dress; thrifted Gap turtleneck; American Apparel tights; Target socks; Frye boots; Plato's Closet leather bracelet; Fossil hoops.