Outfit Post: Shoulding all over myself

Over the past week, I've been having more difficulty deciding how to dress in the morning. I find myself standing in front of my closet, genuinely and thoroughly perplexed. Often I feel I truly have nothing to wear. I throw on outfit after outfit, my anxiety increasing with each article of clothing that I pull on. Rejected pieces puddle on the closet floor. With each passing minute I feel more and more pressure to find the "perfect"look, and more critical about my appearance and my body. Confusing this is the knowledge that I'm a fashion writer and style blogger...shouldn't I be able to dress myself without throwing a tantrum? Shouldn't this be simple, and fun, and my happy time? I've been photographing myself every day for nearly five months. Shouldn't I be over my body anxieties?

Between blogging, doing research, taking care of the house, staying in touch with friends, paying bills, running errands, planning meals, helping my kids with homework and shuffling them to school and taekwando,  I often feel like a circus juggler. I'm trying desperately not only to keep all the balls in the air, but also keep track of where each ball is. Despite the metaphorical nature of my juggling it is nonetheless stressful, and it's no wonder I feel overwhelmed.

The years of abuse from the anorexia combined with the unstoppable forces of aging have played no small role. My body simply won't let me push it that hard.  It loses concentration while doing research for a post.  It finds a way to zone out. And it throws out warning blips in the form of anxiety attacks. I think back to my college days, when I carried a full course-load while working two jobs and writing for my college newspaper. I lived on four hours of sleep and endless mugs of black coffee. Sure, I was miserable and depressed, but I can't help but feel jealous of the old Elissa who got so much done. And then I feel lazy in comparison.

When I find myself becoming overwhelmed and anxious, I believe the problem boils down to one word: Should. I seem to have internal rules about "appropriate" ways to feel, behave and dress. I should be working on my next blog post. I shouldn't have trouble with body anxiety. I shouldn't wear that short skirt. I should tie my belt exactly like my favorite bloggers. The problem is that the word should implies judgment. It communicates that what I'm doing is inherently incorrect, and that there are absolute rights and wrongs. Thinking within the parameters of the should's create some very narrow minded black and white thinking. It's no shock I feel so out of balance.

So the next time I stand in front of my closet, wondering what to wear and only seeing the shouldn't, I'm going to challenge myself to dress as I want, and feel what I feel. If dressing gets too complicated, I'll give myself permission to throw on jeans and call it a day. If I'm having anxiety about my body, I'll check in with my husband and ask for his support. And if blogging seems to be too much, I'll take a break.

Have you had mornings where you felt you had nothing to wear (despite a full closet?) Why do you think this happens? Do you struggle with managing the should's? Can you explain how you deal with this? 

Thrifted vintage Oscar de La Renta silk blouse; thrifted vintage skirt; J Crew ballet flats (eBay); Marc Jacobs bag (consignment store); Forever 21 rhinestone bracelet; TIKKR 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

The pretty clothes are scattered 'round the room. And it's so like candy.

This weekend, my family and I participated in two of my favorite activities: We went out for brunch, and we went bowling. Both are completely awesome. Brunch is awesome because it's, well, brunch. Brunch is an excuse to sleep late, and blend two already great meals into an epic one. It's a leisurely activity, tailored for long conversations with friends, Bloody Mary's and mimosas, and, if you're alone, the chance to plow through the Sunday paper in public. And it must be said that foods consumed at brunch are as close to perfection as one can find. Bottomless mugs of coffee? Omelettes? Pancakes? Sausage and biscuits and corned beef hash? Yes, please. I am convinced that if more people carved out a couple of hours for brunch on a Sunday, the world would be a much more peaceful and contented place.

And bowling? Bowling is the chance to feel like you're participating in a sport without actually breaking a sweat or doing anything remotely athletic. You are not going to whittle away a muffin top through bowling. But it's undeniably fun to hurl a fifteen pound ball down a slippery greased lane, and drink beer, and eat disgustingly greasy food, and wear really, really ugly shoes, and laugh at your kids when they accidentally throw their ball into the lane next to yours. Going bowling with small children is especially fun because it's an excuse to use the bumpers on the lane. I truly relish the chance to cheat, because if I didn't I doubt my score would break double digits.  I also take great pleasure at snickering at the bowlers who take the game really, really seriously. You know - the ones who belong to a league, and wear matching shirts, and lovingly polish their custom-made bowling balls in between frames. They become grim and silent when they miss a split, and downright depressed with a loss. I love them.

Bowling reminds me of my junior-high days, when my friends and I would hang out at our local bowling alley. We'd scope out guys, gnaw on stale gumballs from the vending machine, and eat burgers purchased at the snack bar. It was a sweeter, simpler time, of Bobbie Bell Lip Smackers and hair scrunchies and Debbie Gibson. Perhaps it was this youthful,  fun-loving spirit that encouraged me to dress like a bag of Skittles:

Thrifted Kenneth Cole blazer, thrifted Harajuko Girls tee, Gap long-sleeved white tee, Citizens Of Humanity jeans; J Crew ballet flats; Marc Jacobs bag

I also wore this outfit when I grabbed dinner with the epically awesome Erin of Work With What You've Got. I've been following her blog for well over a year and was super excited to met her. Unsuprisingly, she was just as sweet and genuine in person as she is through her blog, and I'm lucky to have her as my road-trip partner to the Texas Style Council Conference in March. *I promise* not to drive too fast.

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!)

Like a dreamer's dream

What have you wanted since you were a little girl?

I have considered this question on one of my favorite fashion blogs with interest. For some women, the answer is to be a princess for a day. The opportunity to be a real-life princess typically presents itself in the form of a fancy dress-up event, like prom or wedding or your five year-old's birthday party. On reality shows like The Bachelorette some itty-bitty blonde contestant (aren't most of them blonde? Or is that just me?)  announces that what she wants most in this world is a pretty pretty princess wedding, complete with a gown awash with ruffles and rhinestones that looks like it could be a cake topper at some thirteen year-old's bat mitzvah. She wants this wedding to be a certain way, this pretty pretty princess wedding, with a walk down a sweeping Gone With the Wind staircase and candy coated Jordan almonds in little tulle bags and elaborately coiffed bridesmaids resplendent in pink stretch satin. 

On The Real Housewives of Bevery Hills (there's no use in attempting to hide the fact that I am a reality-show junkie) it's the five year old's birthday party that poses as opportunity for fancy dress-up. Perhaps if you're an aggressively Botoxed mom with a penchant for $60,000 preschool parties, the chance to wear a tiara and prance in a twirly gown around like an Arabian pony in a circus has merits. After all, there are other potential pretty pretty princess to impress!

The fact is, most of us women are always looking for a reason to dress up, to be that princess we were when we were little girls who dreamed of owning a Barbie Dream House and wearing pink sparkly nail polish. Personally, I think it's great that as females it's considered perfectly appropriate that we attempt to recreate these princess dreams in real life. Whether you're a Bachelorette contestant, Beverly Hills mom or harried stay-at-home parent to three wanna-be nudists (as I proudly am) there's nothing wrong with having something pretty to dream about.

For me, I always wished I lived in the fifties. I would die for the chance to have full-skirted dresses with crinolines and sweater sets and bobby socks comprise my daily wardrobe. I would sway to the sounds of The Platters and Frank Sinatra, my full skirt swishing deliciously as I moved. I'd beg my mother for little white gloves and structured handbags with gold clasps. My hair would bounce in a perfect high ponytail, and my prom dress would be fashioned from pink ruffled organza.


A 1990's vintage party dress doesn't seem like a necessary piece in one's wardrobe, but when I saw it, I couldn't help but believe that my 1950's fantasy had come to life, albeit in a much more modern way.

Vintage 1990's strapless party dress (thrifted); Old Navy black cardigan; Marc Jacobs bucket evening bag; J Crew black tights, Me Too patent leather pumps; Forever 21 black rhinestone drop earrings

One dream down, a million more to go.