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.
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.
Since I have been gone a while, I’ll let you all in on what I’ve been doing. Besides eating and breathing, I’ve been really thinking about what I mentioned in one of my last post- the true cost behind fashion, and the darker side of fashion that comes with trying to be ‘on trend’ all the time. It has led me to realize that I do have my own sense of style, and that I should instead focus on learning what I actually like to wear and then buy sustainable versions of those items as I give away what I really don’t need or wear. Basically, I need to pare down my wardrobe (which is funny, since I cleared out a bunch of clothing at the beginning of the summer), and learn to not always smack my forehead on the windows of shops the moment I step in any shopping mall. I’ve actually started reciting the mantra “I don’t need it” over and over à la Rebecca Bloomwood (you’re welcome). When I’m near shoes I actually repeat it so much I might as well be humming continuously.
In all seriousness, it was only hard for the first two days. Then the withdrawal – I’m assuming that is what it was- period was over and I moved on. The only hard part is seeing other people buy random stuff they honestly don’t need. I’ve had friends who would go out of their way and buy things simply because they could, but they clearly weren’t very interested in wearing/using the item.
I guess I see that now since I realized that I was the same a few months ago. What a difference a new mentality makes!
Anyway, I have been trying to wear items in my closet multiple ways to prove to myself that they still deserve a spot in my wardrobe rotation. I like the idealistic bloggers who have capsule wardrobes, but I think I might need a while before I get there. For now, figuring out what I actually wear on a regular basis is great!
So the first item on the chopping block was this red scarf I bought a year ago online. My reasons for buying it were questionable; the scarf was red, and I wanted to wear more warm colors. Upon receiving the scarf, I opened the box and was irritated with how obnoxiously red it was. I convinced myself that it wasn’t such an eyesore and wore it out twice. Fast forward to this year and I had worn it twice. Now that I am threatening myself with throwing it out of my closet, I grabbed my basics and figured it out, putting together a seemingly basic outfit. Surprisingly, the black on black packed an awesome punch and the red looked great!
Looks like the scarf won’t be leaving this time around. But I will try to wear it again before I make my final decision(This sounds like a pathetic reality show on TLC where shopaholics/clothing hoarders say bye to their clothes ( except I have half of my original amount of clothes HA) minus the crying).
Tune in next week to see if my red scarf survives The Chopping Block…
In an effort to create space on my phone, I decided to go through my photos and make some necessary cuts to my collection. Now, I’m a firm believer that phones say a lot about their owners; being overly observant and nosy has its perks (for once). Whether the owner has a really old case (either too lazy to change it or very practical and doesn’t see the importance of having a ‘pretty’ case), or a flamboyant fluorescent object that just happens to also function as a case on the side of having credit card slots/ a pocket for change/ a compact mirror/a gum dispenser/a gps/ spare kleenex (the girl who is always behind in her daily life because she is too busy living it up on Twitter *cough* Tumblr) — the point is- I notice these things.
Items as personal as phones reflect us in some way. But the interior- the junk that appears once you unlock the phone- that is as intriguing as the latest Stella McCartney runway show. Apps aside, I am referring directly to the photos on our phones. Not necessarily because I care to see the selfies I imagine people take of themselves, because the selfies are no way as near as interesting as the photos we take of things we like or that make us think. When we photograph things, we want to remember them so we can later go back and go back to the train of thought we had when we first saw the item.
ANYWAY, I was reminded of some thoughts I had when I went to the Met in New York recently. After looking at sculpture after sculpture, I noted a trend in the profiles of their faces, and I had to take pictures so I could compare with others. Now looking back on them, I strangely feel like I should justify to people why they are on my phone and make sure I’m not the only person who find this funny (I need to make sure that I’m not weird).
Behold, a peek at things I find weird/thought provoking:
Alright. This will sound either stupid, or like I’m reading too deep into the situation.
I consider the photos above reason to believe that Voldemort is very much alive and was angry that artists back in the day did not pay homage to his gloriously flat face (no offense to Ray Fiennes) and thus invaded the Met at some point in time and yelled some sort of spell that severed the noses of every ancient bust on display.
Here’s a more plausible and boring conclusion: maybe the employees at the Met don’t get paid enough and instead of going on strike, they figured they’d attack the artwork since that would express their invisible anger towards their bosses.
And here’s what I REALLY think happened : A pretentious curator at the Met calmly perused the sculptures before they went up and found all their noses to be ugly, and instead of wasting money on a sculpture surgeon (okay I obviously know that is not a profession, I just liked the way that sounded in my head), he was Mr. Do-It-Yourself and took out his trusty chisel and mallet and screwed it up thinking he had better taste in noses than the Greeks and Romans. By then, he was frantic- he had to do something. He probably trembled, thinking to himself, Julius and Augustus are turning in their coffins as I operate on their cultural treasures WITHOUT EVEN A DEGREE IN MEDICINE. So then, he pulled out the next best thing, which was his daughter’s silly putty that he accidentally brought with him, and he smacked that on the noses, but that slid off of the noses to his dismay. As he felt the end of his career approaching, he fell feebly to his knees and begged the Roman and Greek gods to show him the path to artistic enlightenment. He smacked his forehead, chastising himself for thinking like Narcissus, and curled into the fetal position next to a statue of a chubby cherub (I am killing it with these alliterations!) and waited to be found and fired.
But then, out of nowhere, a light shone from above. The now dusty curator looked up, suddenly blinded by a white light. He meekly asked, “Zeus?” A voice came out of the intercom instead, announcing that any damaged sculptures would soon be seen by a visiting specialist in refurbishing pieces. The light went off. Hmm. The man might refurbish their noses. But the continuity- it would only work if I were consistent! The curator looked up again, slyly. He pocketed the chisel and mallet and whipped out a much heavier hammer that he didn’t remember having before, and he sprinted through the entire backroom, smashing every. Single. Nose. Not one statue was left untouched. The man had no time to admire his work, so he fled the scene.
And that is how the noses of so many statues now look flat. You’re welcome.