I don’t have much to say today, so instead of doing my usual long ramble on something about ethical fashion (which is always important), I thought I would post photos that make me long for more winter (the best season) or at least a chilly spring, and feature some quotes made me do a double take.
“O my enemy.
Do I terrify?——
Out of the ash
I rise with my red hair
And I eat men like air.”
–excerpt from Ariel, by Sylvia Plath
they only divide us physically
don’t let them make us
turn on each other
-we are not enemies”
-Rupi Kaur, the Sun and Her Flowers
“of all the kinds of hair there are,
curls are best for dancing
my hair felt loved
and free and full
like a thousand twirling dresses”
-Taiye Selasi, Dove’s poetry book for curly haired women (ahem)
“Creo que las mujeres sostienen el mundo en vilo, para que no se desbarate mientras los hombres
tratan de empujar la historia. Al final, uno se pregunta cuál de las dos cosas será la menos sensata.”
-Gabriel García Márquez
And here are some photos for the aesthetic, and to mourn the end of the cold season in Texas that I love so much and miss dreadfully and maybe if I stretch out this sentence long enough I can continue grasping the shred of chilly breezes that occasionally still rustle my hair….and I ran out of words to use so the sentence ends here.
Prepare for my modern interpretation of the seventies and my newfound comfort zone with les beiges et les nudes.
Also the sunset made the photos look really weird and hazy…I love it.
I hope the quotes I offered can be of some use, even if they made you uncomfortable or feel things. Please feel things. I think I see that a lot–people who do not allow themselves to feel things. I am beginning to live a little more off this blog trying to be the person who feels everything without the need to record and document things that are not conducive to free and open thinking and auto-reflection. Anyway, I hope my quotes made you uncomfortable so you can exercise your mind in either deciding that your values are 100% perfect (which is a great thing to feel), or maybe asking yourself if you want to change something (also totally fine).
I think I have been playing with the idea of being uncomfortable, be it with literature I choose to read, or films I watch that make me research new topics, or even start a conversation on a topic I normally avoided. It really activates a part of my brain that leads to further creativity for me. So maybe it might do something for you.
*realizes I said earlier I wasn’t going to ramble*
I found myself walking around the Oscar de La Renta exhibition at the Museum of Fine Arts the day before NYE and staring at the most amazing woven tapestry style coat and while I kept strolling, I began to reflect on the past year. It’s weird because I saw this bizarre trend on Instagram where people were turning their stories into these extended summaries of their year, where they posted a snap of each month (which sidenote – who on earth has the time to save all those photographs for a year, then remembers to go back and retrieves them, puts them in an orderly fashion, complete with captions, filters, hashtags – I digress – so I’ll just continue going through them like the nosy person I am) mentioning the memorable moments. Many people posted their personal achievements and stuff they did, and to be honest, it made me feel like a voyeur witnessing shameless bragging.
I was really saddened when I began to feel very unaccomplished and small … don’t you feel small and overwhelmed when you sit on social media for too long? … oh … okay, just me then… Anyway, I tend to get really anxious when I see what people are doing, which more power to them, that is great – but I got sucked into the byproduct of the annoying mosh pit of judgement and jealousy and comparison that appears in the center of all the people who simply came to praise themselves.
But doesn’t that also sound really pompous? Well, on one hand, it is great to feel acknowledgement when you publish a photo on Instagram documenting your weightless journey, or a photo celebrating your anniversary. But on the other hand, with the mosh pit I just mentioned, it really sucks to feel like you aren’t at the same level that everyone else seems to be at, and it seems insensitive and almost offensive (from this bitter and jaded perspective) to receive notifications of people saying “yay me, look at what I did this year, clap for me!”
All bitterness aside, these ideas and feelings flashed through my mind at a mile a minute as I also tried to calculate the price of this tapestry coat (roughly ten thousand dollars if it’s OdLR couture, so not accessible to me in this lifetime) and I came to what I think is the most mature and grown up solution to this self imagined situation.
Quick disclaimer* I hate strongly dislike resolutions as they feel forced and fake to me, and 9 times out of 10 they are not carried out. Something about this tapestry coat spoke to me though. So I made a mental note that I guess qualifies as a resolution because it was within a 24 hour parameter of the end of the year…blehto
1) stop being so negative because it most likely sending out negative vibes and bringing me down
2) stop simply saying that I will stop comparing myself to other people and just do it already
3) stop using social media so much since I clearly have once again developed a dependence on social media and the need to feel validated/acknowledged in order to see myself as someone worthwhile
After coming up with this list I smiled to myself, finally prepared for the new year and finally feeling fulfilled. Okay so moral of the story: I reached my own fulfillment on my own, and I no longer feel jealous of the “new year, new me, new goals” overload that I was bombarded with online****.
ANYWAY, here are some snazzy pictures that my fantastic friend Roya took of me three weeks ago that have NOTHING to do with this post, but made me happy, and on that very weak segue let’s move on.
Vegan moto jacket/ AE (really old) // Turtleneck/Join Life by Zara (sustainably sourced line by Zara) // Skirt/Primark (5 years old) // Boots/ Ivanka Trump
I bought those Ivanka Trump boots in 2014, when supporting the Trump family did not make me gag, nor did it mean anything yet compared to today’s American society. I also cannot just get rid of them, since that would go against my ethical fashion beliefs and they are vegan suede and I really like them and I am getting good wear out of them. That is all I have to say.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
**** PS. I still have tabs open with Google results for “internet detoxing” and “how to get off the grid like Ron Swanson”
Yesterday morning I shot in downtown Austin, and here are the shots. I figured I would say something beforehand, but the photos really speak for themselves. I wanted a clean, urban shoot that I could pair with my sometimes-too-serious-for-class outfits, and this was the best opportunity to be polished and pretentious with my huge sunglasses. But ethics ethics ethics are the way to do style, so I can walk you through that.
The trench coat — Express, but old, and I plan on wearing it FOREVER because it makes me feel like a major boss lady. I wore it open and felt the cold air hit that one strip of stomach/chest/neck that was left exposed to the elements. Do I regret leaving it open? Not at all. Did it for the gram. Fashion is pain.***
The turtleneck — Join Life by Zara, the attempt at an ethical line that I supported in the hope that Zara sees that people care about sustainable clothing that has safe dyes and is kinder to the planet. It is a lot thinner than it looks, which I love for layering, but do not recommend if you live in a colder place.
The PANTS (clearly my favorite part) — H&M and super duper old. Vegan leather (of course) and high waisted. Very snazzy if you ask me. I need to get them altered, but I also strangely like the extreme wrinkle action around my ankles.
The flats — Nannette Lepore flats with little bows on the back that make me feel like Carine Roitfeld, or chez Dior circa Raf Simons.
Backpack — boutique somewhere in NYC area. Sorry that was vague. I forgot and it has no tags. BUT it is vegan leather also.
Clearly my soul is dead since I am sporting a head to toe heart of darkness black look, but I enjoy that. And now for the pictures that were all taken by the fantastic photographer Harley Eldridge (so all photo credits go to him)!!! We talked over our vision and met up and made it happen in less than two hours. Here is what you came for, with some light hearted commentary by moi.
And that concludes my captions, since these photos are too good for me to continue interrupting them.
This was an amazing post to prepare for, and it really has challenged me to want next level photography all the time. Hopefully the blog continues on this roller coaster that only goes up.
If you are in the Austin area and want next level, editorial style photos, you can find Harley here, and here.
Hi there, hello, bonjour. It has been a hot minute.
I am currently sitting on campus, sporting a beret (I love that all of a sudden people are into wearing them when we fashion lovers are aware that the beret was never really ‘out’ of style) of all things, and a head to toe black look. I feel very much like someone who dropped out of their art history appreciation class in this look. But not relevant right now.
I have had one heck of a semester. Challenging? Yes. Tiring? Yes. Fun? OF course! But yes, I was very tired and was overwhelmed a few times, not to mention incredibly stressed, stressed to the point where I was not as interested in writing for the blog. And I don’t mean that I don’t love doing this, because I do, but I do feel like I have no ability to veil my current mindset when I write here. Other writing projects are sacred and I am professional and formal there, but for a blog – and personal blog at that – why on earth would I be anything but candid – ? See my point?
Anyway, I also think that discussing my homework assignments was what I spent 70% of my time doing, so I also considered how helpful it would be for me to dwell on my homework woes with an audience that comes here just for fashion and style musings. I quickly decided that for my own sanity, it was necessary for me to put the blog down and use both hands to juggle my schoolwork and attempts to forge a social life.
On the bright side, Christmas is coming! And I need to really get my shit together to post here more. I recently worked with a photographer in the Austin area (@harleyeldridge so you can stalk him like I did), and by recently, I mean as recently as 9 am today.
Which brings me to a few tips on posing for shoots: (for fashion shoots though, nothing crazy or portrait-y or senior graduation picture-y)
wear something relevant to your surroundings. I had a beret, but I wasn’t about to put that on when we wanted something urban that could exist in a concrete jungle.
be able to listen to a photographer when he tells you that your forehead lines keep appearing. A bit anecdotal advice (ahem, I still like my forehead lines making cameos in shots), but nevertheless useful for some people.
if it will be cold and you are shooting in warm weather clothing, or vice versa, just be prepared to throw stuff on or take off layers in between shots, or you might end up with freezing hands like moi this morning since I was convinced that I had predicted the weather and was 110% sure that it was going to be in the 60˚ range. I wasn’t about to be I-told-you-so’d, and when I saw that other people were fine and not freezing, and that it was just me being nervous and cold, I forced myself to keep my hands out of my pockets.
Anyway, just wanted to pop in, say hello, ask for divine intervention as I hit this home stretch of essays that I need to finish, and turn them all in before heading back to Houston tomorrow (in less than 24 hours!!!!) . Also we need to talk about the comeback of 2000’s fashion, which I believe I must have ranted about before somewhere here. WHYYYYYYYYY?????
That is all. Get excited, the fashion returns, but more importantly, the writer with a beret (they were always a thing, don’t listen to what they tell you). (Which reminds me: bucket hats and crocs (hideous foot swallowing beasts, those crocs are) were, are not, and NEVER will be a thing.)
Au revoir mes amies, avec amour. Et n’oubliez pas, je reviendrai bientôt.
P.s. don’t mind my pretentious french exit; I am still in my beret, remember? Also, 7 years of french under my belt.
I have not actually written about it here, but I am actually a new corresponding writer at College Fashion! That was the news I was wary of sharing in my last post! My first article can be found here. You don’t have to read it or anything…but you’d make my day brighter if you did. Anyway, that is one of the reasons why my blog was not updated sooner.
As for photographs, I am STILL trying to coax people I know into photographing me. There’s something about trying to adapt to people you are not close to and don’t feel enough trust with, and then trying to jump straight into photographs with them. I know models do that all the time, hence their professional careers. But I think major bloggers are really good at it too — and what I mean is that I’m not anywhere near that level of bounce-back ability. *laughs, cringes, laughs*
I took these photos a week or two ago when my brother and I were in the Rice Village area of Houston, one of my favorite parts of the city. I was really feeling the pigtails that day, and I’m honestly surprised I don’t wear them more. I personally hate wearing my hair down because I don’t like feeling hair on my cheeks or near my forehead (it sounds weird when I write it and read it out loud, but I swear it makes sense), and they’re an easy and cute way to keep it out of the way. It also might be that I have been feeling old lately. I have always always always been assumed to be much younger than I look, but not in a way that was flattering, instead, it was embarrassing, as I would often have to explain that yes, I was fourteen, not nine. Actually, two years ago I pretended to be twelve to get on a subway for free. I was eighteen then. But since turning twenty, I kid you not, I have been told that I am older than I look now, and someone did the unthinkable, and I was shaken to my core. Prepare yourselves.
Someone called me “ma’am”. Oh…my…goodness.
Okay, actually I laughed and instantly whispered to myself, “what the fuck?” as if in denial, and then chuckled for then next five minutes, finally resulting in me staring at a wall, refusing to look in the mirror because I was terrified that my crow’s feet were showing more.
The run-on sentence there was necessary to show you my thought process and realization, or awareness or whatever (I’m clearly not over it) —
is twenty old?!
Obviously not. But I think this realization that I am no longer the kid generation, the generation that adults turn to and say “you’re the future!” with a pat on the back. The feeling of invincibility that teens have, that eager feeling to experience everything, it should still be mine, as well as my peers. But for some reason, it feels as if society is moving at such a fast pace thanks to technology or social media, and now the generation that gets the spotlight and the hope and all that good stuff is gone. My generation is now the cynical millennial group, the group that doesn’t have anything figured out. The unsatisfied and lost young adults. Imagine all of this finally hitting you in public, as someone “ma’am”s you for the first time, your whole youth flashing before your eyes, and remembering how you didn’t accomplish any of the stupid things teen movies tell you you have to do to have a proper teenage experience, and the things you promised your younger self that you would do… … … … and now, I’m no longer “sweetheart”, or “honey”, or “darlin'” (because it’s Texas and we’re in the south dammit).
Now, with all this in mind, doesn’t it seem like a rational and logical response to ask the person calling you the awful adult pronoun “what the fuck?” as in “what the fuck is a ma’am, and how does it refer to me? what the fuck are you trying to say about my crow’s feet?!!!!!” or lastly, in my calamity, the most serious and vain question, that embarrasses me to admit — “what the fuck do you mean I’m not the little one anymore?! Also should I invest in eye cream, is that what you’re saying? Wait, I’m old? Ahhh what the fuck!”
See? It makes sense once I provide context.
Anyway, time for some photos, so you can see my adorable as fuck pigtails (clearly still not over it).
Outfit details: top/A&F // denim/Pull&Bear // bag/Street Level // shoes/ Adrienne Vittadini // jewelry/all old stuff at this point, since I am trying to do #30wears with my stuff.
I feel like a weight has been lifted off of me. I sincerely hope that this is not a quarter life crisis. Those supposedly happen after college graduation, so I am at least two years away from that situation. You know, reading my rant above made me reconsider my approach to anger. I still justify being startled by the whole “ma’am” thing. But I think what affected me was due to how I thought about it. Maybe the whole fear of not being the spotlight generation was just an inner notion of vanity, and of egocentricity. If so, then yes, yes I’m getting old; I must be growing old if I’m able to pinpoint the fault on my side.
I might have to crank out my little childhood bucket list and finish all the stuff on it before I become twenty-one, though. I don’t know if I’ll be able to feel like a child anymore if I am legally able to do basically everything.
I also feel like it validates some of my childhood when I tell you that I have been writing this with my Harry Potter Gryffindor fleece blanket that I got in junior high. I’m secretly but not so secretly trying to absorb youth back into myself…and possibly searching for eye creams on Amazon too. Gotta start early.
Thanks for reading! And hopefully this makes you laugh and feel younger.