Ma’am, are those pigtails? |Outfit Post

Hello friends!

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).

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Not helpful: the random wind + peplum combination. I was actually groaning through my teeth I was so annoyed by it.
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But on the other hand, this wall was such a nice shade of blue, n’est-ce pas? #thelittlethingsinlife #blessed ok, I can show myself out.
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SEE THE WIND — but also my side eye looks decent here, so I am content.

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.

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Uniform, Variation 1.

So this is something I have thought of for weeks, so it is nothing new, and came to me after reading Man Repeller and seeing Leandra acknowledge that her uniform consists of denim hot pants, bare legs, and utility coats, and some great white t-shirt. And that got me to thinking – do I have a uniform?

Obviously as time goes on, our style develops into something that can continue to change, or become a general tendency to lean towards specific items. I feel like even though I have grown a bit more, and experimented a lot with my look, I was able to catch onto the pattern. The items I tend to reach for are tight pants, since I have accepted that wide leg pants are not petite friendly. High waisted things are a fixed item in my wardrobe, be they shorts or trousers, or even jumpsuits. Color-wise, the more neutral the items, the better. Black, grey, white, dark blues, greens, burgundies — those colors are the only ones I will look at anymore. It’s easiest when my entire wardrobe has a basic, duller color scheme, since the fabrics are what is nicest. I don’t really wear many t shirts and choose to wear blouse-y things and trousers, as I have realized that dressing down just does not exist for me. Sweats are seriously the antithesis of my existence. << I will trademark that phrase, so don’t take it. 😀

So if I had to coin a phrase to describe the style I have now, it would be

“Blair Waldorf and Serena Van der Woodsen’s lovechild with anyone from Mad Men.”

Note: when I say anyone from Mad Men, I really mean just Betty Draper or Megan Draper or Joan Harris. 

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Top / HM ||  Trouser-leggings / Zara  ||  Shoes / Call it Spring

 

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The “look at my feet” shot that actually is pretty uncomfortable 

 

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I was actually walking, but I made the mistake of talking, hence the weird facial expression 
plaid leggings
* nod of acknowledgement to the high waistedness of the pants *

I think the point of what I am trying to say here is that while trends come and go, I will probably always wear heels to inconvenient places, wear tighter high waisted pants, and hoops. And I finally am getting used to that and warming up to the idea.

Thanks for reading!

Hello Summer.

Hello everyone!

It feels so odd to be saying that right now, as I scroll through my old posts and wonder where the time has gone. I feel as if I owe everyone an explanation for my absence here.

So while I know that you all are perfectly justified in being angry with me, here I go attempting an apology. Or at least presenting a solid alibi, whichever works better.

This will also probably become some sort of rant inevitably, so disclaimer – if you aren’t in for the long haul you might want to click away, haha.

First of all, I would like to point out how much work goes into each post. For a professional blogger who made this their full time job, there is a photographer required for every. Single. Shoot… And for every. Single. Post. And unfortunately, my younger brother a few months ago realized that photographing my outfits out of the “goodness of his heart” (my words, not his) was doing nothing for his wallet. To be fair, it was a crap deal we had going on, at least on his end. And I laughed it off. But then I realized I had no one to hold the camera and actually snap the photo, and then the laughing ended. So I hunted photographers, but no one was A) near enough to work with or B) was interested in working with a newer, less followed blogger. SEE everyone? THIS is why bloggers date people who are good with photography; they get free photos. Smart smart smart.

Another reason I was distanced from the blog was school. Always school. Courses got harder, my study breaks became smaller and less frequent, and thus became consumed with me slipping in clips of the show Victoria on PBS (I am a fangirl for that show I swear the costumes must be crafted out of angel hair and swan feathers or something) , or Mad Men (not surprising for me). I also became a bit of a vintage freak, stalking vintage accounts and sellers on Instagram, but never actually bidding on things due to sizing qualms.

So there are my two largest reasons. Another relevant reason was this fear that I was not living in the moment, but instead just thinking of when and what to post, and if I had enough clothing for posts. Which is not the point of ethical living — a goal I am actively pursuing. Shopping mindfully is something I try to do, and if my blog was standing in the way of that main goal, then it had to be put on hold.

BUT I won’t lie, I missed the mini platform I had to write and rant on that was in my control all the time. So here I am, again. It’s summer, and I am here, but I won’t guarantee how active I can be, since I will be a bit busy this summer (more on that another time). For now, I CAN guarantee an outfit MWAH HA HA. Someone’s brother was  in a good mood and agreed to being a photographer for the day.

Downtown Houston, how I missed you. Suburbs….well, let’s just say I have a growing fiery pit of lava feeding on fervid hatred and swirling flames of discomfort and a mild allergic reaction when I think of you.

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a moment of gratitude to the hair gods for helping me make a bun today. that is all.
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smiling because I am fighting the bitch face, but look at the shoes *cries*.  divinity in a shoe.
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detailed shot of the perforation of my bag – love that – and the lace top…*yells at the top of lungs* I HAVE BECOME A TABLECLOTH come be my friend
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actually serious styling tip – cuffing pants makes your legs look longer. I don’t know how many more times I have to say it to prove it to you all.

Outfit Details:

Top/Zara // Pants/ H&M (old) // Shoes/Nanette Lepore // Bag/gifted

** “The Tempest” Playbill not available for sale 😀

There you go! My latest outfits are mostly in grayscale, or at least in dark colors. In lieu of prints I lean towards textures and fabrics, which are more fun anyway. I saw the Houston Ballet’s version of “The Tempest” and was entranced, and stepped out for a second to get these photos of this outfit. My top was actually fished off a rack in Zara that was covered in those pseudo Johanna Ortiz tops. Even though I feel like a human doily, I can live with that. The ruffled shoulders are actually (oh good god I’m about to say it) fun?

Last thing I will say: those shoes. They are precious, and I love anything pointy-toed. If I see a pair of black shoes that threaten to mold my feet into triangles by the end of the day and have sandpaper for soles sign me up. I will gladly break in those death traps for you. Years of practice of wearing uncomfortable shoes left me numb anywhere below my mid calf area, so these were great. I realize now sitting at home with my feet propped up that the skin has been rubbed raw in a few places but THAT IS OKAY. All is fair in love and fashion.

Thanks for reading!

“2017!” and Other Things

HAPPY NEW YEAR!

I spent a quaint evening with my family,  mostly frolicking with sparklers, dancing about in some fabulously over the top tights (I hate the word pantyhose, fun fact – once its said, nothing else can be said to make up for it), and hogging all of the brussels sprouts.

And here is my outfit, which is probably what everyone came here for:

I am very proud to say that my outfit was very sustainable, with an old dress I managed to make new again with funky tights that reminded me of Fran Drescher as the Nanny and basic booties.

Outfit details: Dress//F21 /  Tights//vintage (thanks mom) / Booties//Aldo

Disclaimer**

None of what I wore was ‘current’. Isn’t that weird? This is where I will get all corny and reflect on unremarkable things yet explain how they truly mean something much deeper. This year I became much more aware of my impact on the world as a consumer. I learned that having a large closet does not immediately mean being stylish. Once this was presented to me, I was finally able to see the way social media accounts force shove a specific image into the spotlight, and set it as the example to follow. That revelation led to figuring out my style and has allowed me to pare down on unnecessary shopping and the constant need to fit what others think is correct.

Now I will be very cautious with the resolutions I leave here, since I feel uneasy when something is established as important and basically etched in stone (more like etched in pixels), but I do have a few goals for this year.

  1. Obviously to get good grades in college, because law school, and law school… and law school.
  2. Try to focus on writing more
  3. Work on cooking skills
  4. Get better at yoga

Do I need to say the obvious ones- like drinking more water?

Happy New Year, and wish us all luck with our resolutions, no matter how sustainable and realistic they are!  **sips water, thinks again, gulps down a cup of water**

 

#30daysofthanks Day 3 

 

That. Stupid. Speck. Will.Drive.Me.Insane. 

Day Three! Told you I’d be consistent.

I am going to be honest. I’m listening to Michael Bublé’s Christmas album right now.

Today did not make it easy to find something to be grateful for (especially when your leggings are soaked and stuck to you and require surgical removal, or coaxing with paper towels). Nevertheless, I was struck by the amazing weather when I went out later after the rain had moved on. The sky was grey and melancholy, and the wind allowed me to pretend that I was in some moody old town in New England. Seeing the clouds drifting by reminded me that the weekend is coming. Well tomorrow is Friday, which is basically the weekend, right? And that means going home, which means family, which means happiness. And the renaissance festival in Houston!

So thanks rain. You reminded me that just like storms that tear through the area, there is still an ethereal beauty in nature.

That being said, I am still bitter about the fact that you ruined my Toms earlier.

Yay rain! Yay for fridays! I’ll even throw in an honorable mention to my wellies for pulling through.

Gratitude- check.