My Love/Hate Relationship With Fashion

Cute Guy, Bad Fashion

noreply@blogger.com (VERONICA) — Fri, 27 Aug 2010 01:56:00 +0000

Good question. Why is everyone looking at you? It wouldn't have anything to do with that ironic-hipster faux-self-aware societal critique in turquoise you have on, now would it?

Or, it could just be your hair. Hard to tell.

Diesel "Why Is Everybody Looking at Me?" Tee, $45

Bad Fashion Song Lyrics

noreply@blogger.com (VERONICA) — Tue, 24 Aug 2010 20:45:00 +0000

Here's something that really cheeses me off: when parents and school boards and obnoxious people in general get all whipped up into a froth about the "obscene" books their kids are reading in school, or how the world is so damn dangerous for their little angels, while it's completely accepted for kids to watch Katy Perry shoot whipped cream out of her bra (which may well be a post/rant for another time).

I will admit here and now that I am not a prude. I don't wince if someone uses the f-word and I'm not offended, per se, by undergarments that eject dairy product. I am, however, deeply offended by stupid and unoriginal artistry, e.g., Katy Perry. In her song "California Gurls," she sings:

California girls, we're unforgettable / Daisy dukes, bikinis on top

Daisy frigging dukes? I realize I live in New England where it's winter nine months out of the year, but I'm still pretty sure daisy dukes went out of style around the same time as colored denim and David Charvet.

Sex on a beach / We get sand in our stilettos

Great googly moogly. First of all, the concept of sex on a beach is such a worn-out cliché that there's a cheesy drink named after it. Secondly, someone wearing heels on the beach will look like a dumb-ass exactly 100% of the time.

We freak in my Jeep / Snoop Doggy Dogg on the stereo

Just don't poke David Charvet in the eye with a nozzle as you "freak" to romantic tracks like "Gz Up, Hoes Down." Just keep it coming, Katy, the jokes practically write themselves.

Image: screenshot taken from official music video at KatyPerryMusic on YouTube

Your Fashion Pet Peeves

noreply@blogger.com (VERONICA) — Tue, 17 Aug 2010 10:02:00 +0000

I posted a question on Facebook a couple weeks ago, asking, "What's your biggest fashion pet peeve?" I myself have oodles of pet peeves, from wearing sunglasses indoors to white socks to hipsters wearing certain items "ironically", but I wanted to see what others secretly (or not-so-secretly) despised. Here are a few things that drive you nuts, in no particular order:

Douchebag baseball caps. These are becoming more and more ubiquitous within the younger set (kids today!). It's not the hat itself, per se, but the manner in which it's worn. Jen says, "It just sits on the top of their head loosely. It looks like it is about to fall off!" I might add that these hats never seem to be the correct size (always too big), and as Rob mentioned, have a perfectly straight brim and all the retail stickers still attached. I'm fairly certain this is some unexplained urban status symbol thing that I am far too old to understand, but reality check, kiddos. You look stupid.

Pants. Well, not all pants. Rob hates capri pants. Angela hates leggings as pants (agreed, leggings are non-pants). Both Kathryn and Samantha hate mens' skinny jeans, and Breanne hates low-rise. I hate pre-destroyed jeans, as I believe in breaking in your own denim. There are remarkably few pants that are not offensive. Pants are inherently evil.

Faddish footwear. "Freakin' Crocs!" was one of the very first responses to my query, which was unsurprising (preach to the choir, sister). Kathryn makes a bold statement, saying, "The gladiator sandal is so over." It would have to be, as now everyone I see wears some variation on this theme, making it mainstream and thus not fashion-forward. Dolls, I never said fashion wasn't exhausting!

Finally, my favorite answer came from Marc, who says he hates "People who wear clothes in general! Lets get primal again people!" But then what would I blog about?

New Era Boston Red Sox 59FIFTY Cap (bend your damn brim!), $35.99

Hump Day Hunk

noreply@blogger.com (VERONICA) — Wed, 11 Aug 2010 10:04:00 +0000

There are few things in life that bring joy to my eyes more than a uniformed man. Olive drab is just a hunky color, I guess.

This particular man in uniform is the character Trevor LeBlanc of the Lifetime show Army Wives, which I've gotten completely roped into thanks to Netflix (but I'm only on Season 3 so no spoilers!). Trevor often hangs around his house dressed in Army fatigues, which is really all I need to nominate him for Hunkdom. Enjoy!

Photo: MyLifetime.com

The Great Shoe Cleanup of 2010

noreply@blogger.com (VERONICA) — Tue, 10 Aug 2010 21:06:00 +0000

Forty-five pairs of shoes, two bags of trash, and one Sunday afternoon; dolls, my shoe closet is now clean. Upon completion, I updated my Facebook status to celebrate, only to hear "You have a shoe closet?? Jealous!!!" So, let me clarify: this "shoe closet" is at the expense of a spare linen closet. Not that I own linens. But whatever. My shoe storage situation is not as glamorous as I may have made it sound.

However. It. Is. Clean! Which is super-exciting, given where I'd started from. I've even taken to opening the door to the closet just to admire my work, and breathe in the sweet scent of organization (in my case, it smells like leather). But, believe it or not, this major cleanup was the easy part; the hard part will be to actually keep it that way. To successfully do this, I must remember the lessons I've learned:

1. Don't put anything away "for now." Because it's shameful to find fitness magazines from 2008 stuck in the back of your closet in 2010. Trust me.

2. Recycle your old running sneakers. Do this for two reasons. One, it's good karma for the planet. Two, old running sneakers smell like old running sneakers. You dig?

3. Stop buying flip flops. Just because they're as cheap as a latte doesn't mean you need 800,000 pairs of them. Not to mention, the cheap-cheap ones look like crap after one or two wearings. They're also reportedly bad for your feet. (Just another reason to love the 'Fingers?)

4. Know what you own. If you have a pretty good idea what's already in your closet, you'll be less likely to impulse-buy something similar to what you already have, thus saving your dough for only the truly fabulous finds. See also, number 3.

5. Beware of fast-fashion. In other words, don't buy cheap-o shoes. Now, I'm not going to get all smug like the fashion rags do and say that one must fork over hundreds of dollars for a decent pair of pumps, and that they're investments and such. They're not. They're shoes, and even the expensive ones pinch. But the fact is, the cheap ones don't last, don't look all that good, and leave us feeling guilty for buying them in the first place.

Cute Guy, Bad Fashion

noreply@blogger.com (VERONICA) — Thu, 05 Aug 2010 21:46:00 +0000

I realize the following statement may sound horribly shallow, but: I believe that clothing reveals a lot about the wearer's personality. Now, I don't mean to imply that you're a superior human being for being fashionable (or deliberately not being fashionable, depending on your persuasion). All I mean is, like it or not, you can tell a lot about someone by the way they choose to present themselves to the world.

With this in mind, I ask myself: what am I to infer from the sartorial choices of the handsome gentleman pictured at left? That he might be kind of a douchebag? That he probably has some cheesy Chinese character tattoo under there somewhere? That he calls other guys "bro" and says awful clichéd things like "I'm not book-smart, but I'm street-smart"? That he buys Axe body spray by the gallon and drives a car in a fluorescent color?

Maybe not. But his shirt had me at "Hey bro."

Affliction GSP Justice Classic Fit Thermal, $68

Teenage Mutant Ninja Mary Janes

noreply@blogger.com (VERONICA) — Fri, 30 Jul 2010 17:54:00 +0000

Dear sweet, innocent readers, I've done something terrible. Something I thought I would never, ever do. I bought a pair of those friggin' FiveFingers shoes. But wait! Before you delete my blog from your bookmarks and remove me from the Christmas card list, let me attempt to explain:

My initial reaction to these creepy little things, as you may remember, was pure horror. I did a little research and as it turns out, FiveFingers were created for a very specific purpose (i.e. fitness). I enjoy fitness. But I was not about to let function get in the way of vanity. Not yet.

I then had FiveFingers battle it out with my other loathed style of footwear, Crocs, in which FiveFingers tentatively "won."

Almost a year went by, and I began reading all this stuff on the benefits of barefoot running, plus a whole bunch of positive reviews, including one from one of my fave outdoor gear bloggers. I got curious. Am I missing out? Are the 'Fingers secretly awesome?

I casually mentioned trying them to my Marine husband, who has met some exceptionally fit people during his stint in the military. "They're so creepy," he said, and paused thoughtfully for a second. "Gunny Hernandez wears them, though, and Gunny is badass."*

That finally did it. I chose the Sprint, a cute Mary Jane style in black so that it wouldn't call any extra attention to itself, or so I rationalized. (In hindsight, who am I kidding? I look like a platypus.) I wore them on my walk to and from work, three miles round trip, two days in a row. My mind was made up. They are secretly awesome. Just don't look down.

*For all you civilians out there, "Gunny" is a term of endearment for "Gunnery Sargeant," a badass-sounding rank if I've ever heard one. Also, "badass" is probably one of the highest compliments one could ever receive from my husband. I'll admit, I find it adorable.

Hump Day Hunk

noreply@blogger.com (VERONICA) — Wed, 28 Jul 2010 14:05:00 +0000

Last week at work, I received a Swiss mountaineering magazine in my mailbox. Virtually all the advertisements and editorial are in German, however, this Tissot ad translated perfectly: Swiss ~~watches~~ men are pretty damn classy looking, no?

A Woman With Baggage

noreply@blogger.com (VERONICA) — Tue, 27 Jul 2010 03:55:00 +0000

In the quest to re-organize my life, I've decided to break the process down into simple, manageable little projects, starting with the areas most prone to disorder (which, coincidentally, are the areas driving me the most crazy). Thus begins Project Messenger Bag.

My daily carrier is a black ballistic nylon Timbuk2 Classic, which you may remember from my brush with crime a few months ago. I originally bought it for its roominess and practicality, but soon enough it was stuffed to capacity with all manner of crap I'd picked up along the way (I'm not sure how this rapid accumulation happens. It just does.).

By the way, that's my actual bag in the photo, with my actual junk spilling out of it. Why am I lugging all this stuff around with me every day? Besides the Snickers bar, I mean. I need that.

So to reassure myself that I'm not some weird hoarder, just a gal with a fear of being stuck on the bus with nothing to read, I put this question out to my wonderful readers and received some interesting responses:

The practical: Snacks (obviously!), a spare diaper for the little one, tweezers for impromptu grooming (this is genius), a utility knife (yikes!), and a tape measure (again, genius - it would figure that this one came from my mom. Moms are always prepared!).

The inspirational: A small stone that had been a gift from a Weight Watchers group leader (aww!).

The "other": Orphaned mascara ("I don't know how it got there, but I'm keeping it in there in case its mystery owner suddenly appears looking for it"), a twist tie, and herbal pills.

The hilarious: Two rolls of toilet paper. Two. And I'm the one with the handbag problem.

Hump Day Hunk

noreply@blogger.com (VERONICA) — Thu, 22 Jul 2010 02:09:00 +0000

Today's challenge is to describe this man without using the word FOXY. Go ahead, I dare you to even try.

J. Crew Chambray Club Shorts (not pictured, oh who cares anyway), $62.50. Beautiful bespectacled man, no charge.

On Disorganization, and Where I've Been These Days

noreply@blogger.com (VERONICA) — Wed, 21 Jul 2010 02:34:00 +0000

Dolls! It's been ages. I've tried crafting elaborate excuses, such as I've been super-cali-fragilistic-busy at my new(ish) job at an outdoor recreation magazine, that I've been spending the long summer evenings whipping my body into race-running shape, or spending quality time with the hubs, or climbing mountains in New Hampshire on the weekends, but those reasons are only partly true. I also needed to recharge, find some new topics to discuss, and finally address the problem behind why I've been a deadbeat blogger:

I'm disorganized.

Not where-did-I-put-my-car-keys? disorganized. I'm chronically, pathologically disorganized. Not only do I not have a clue where my car keys are, I'm not exactly positive where my car is. Okay, maybe I'm exaggerating. But the point is, I can't function as a scatterbrain anymore. And I can't keep watching Hoarders just to feel normal by comparison. Unless I'm climbing over a pile of broken coffee makers just to get to the bathroom, I don't actually have a problem, right?

Maybe not, but I do know that I've spent almost my entire twenties rushing, running late, losing things, forgetting appointments, and procrastinating. Not to mention chastising and berating and hating myself every time I misplace a parking ticket or forget to return a voicemail. It’s exhausting, and I am far too old to be tripping over dirty laundry on the bedroom floor like when I was in high school.

To make this leap from train wreck to tidy, I've decided to follow the lead of the brilliant Dr. Marilyn Paul, a Boston-area consultant (and reformed slob) with a Ph.D. from Yale and a book on organization titled It's Hard to Make a Difference if You Can't Find Your Keys. In it, Paul encourages readers to keep a journal of their transition. Since the path to organization, for me, is littered with fashion magazines, piles and piles of shoes, and clothing I don't really ever wear, I felt this blog might be a good place to track my progress. That, coupled with the potential for failure in front of an audience, will surely keep me motivated. More to come...

Hump Day Hunk: Coupon? What Coupon?

noreply@blogger.com (VERONICA) — Thu, 08 Apr 2010 00:03:00 +0000

Last week, I purchased a pair of jeans from the Levi's website. Then this morning, this lovely photo appeared in my email inbox. No Levi's. Thank you.

My Messenger and Me: A Love Story

noreply@blogger.com (VERONICA) — Fri, 26 Mar 2010 01:50:00 +0000

My adoration for all things Timbuk2 has been documented here before, but it was yesterday evening's events that really put my love to the test.

My black Timbuk2 classic messesnger (pictured at left) is not only my daily commuter but my default air travel messenger, gym tote, and handy makeshift surface for doing the daily crossword on the bus. It's durable and comfortable and waterproof and very elegantly masks my hoarding tendencies with a veneer of urban minimalist utilitarian chic. I love it so much I want to sop it up with a biscuit and eat it for breakfast. But anyway. One of the more distinct qualities of Timbuk2 bags I've owned are their velcro closures. They're strong, and sturdy ... and loud. So much so that I will take the bag to another room to open it if someone is sleeping nearby. I just never would have expected this particular (possibly unintentional) feature to save me from what could have been a very upsetting situation.

I boarded an especially crowded T in the thick of rush hour yesterday afternoon and immediately ran into an acquaintance I hadn't seen in some time. Despite all the shoving and squeezing and general crabbiness of the other passengers, we managed to chat about this and that when suddenly, I felt a tug and heard an oddly familiar cracking sound.

I craned my neck to face a very nervous older man fiddling with his jacket sleeve and visibly avoiding my eyes. I then looked down to see that the flap on my messenger was pried open halfway. Stunned, I smoothed down the flap and adjusted the bag so it was out of his reach. Did what I think just happened actually happen? Was this scumbag about to just help himself to whatever valuables I was carrying? (Actually, the funny thing is, his first handful would probably have been a whole bunch of tampons I'd shoved in there before leaving work. Ha!) Either way, I hate to think what might have happened had I not heard that trusty velcro.

Later that evening, I posted a Facebook status update mentioning the incident. One cheeky comment suggested, "That's why you should carry a gun :)" Nah. Maybe just another Timbuk2 messenger in gunmetal, perhaps?

Image: Me and my messenger in safer times. Photo by Yuko Takahashi.

Alexander McQueen: A Tribute

noreply@blogger.com (VERONICA) — Fri, 12 Feb 2010 16:16:00 +0000

I am sorry to admit that last night I heard about Alexander McQueen's death through a Facebook status update, from a self-described fashion Luddite, no less. After a quick Google search I learned that the designer took his own life which deeply saddened - but did not shock - me. McQueen has consistently been one of my favorite designers for many years (I even designed a mock McQueen brand identity for a logo design assignment in college). I didn't adore everything he designed (rib cage suitcase for Samsonite, anyone?), but I loved his many creations for the same reason I love Frida Kahlo's paintings: I simply can't stop looking at them. His type of artistic brilliance, unfortunately, tends to come at a price.

The thing I find most disheartening, however, is the callous manner in which people treat a death such as this. Browsing Facebook for a few minutes, I saw several insensitive comments regarding McQueen's death and McQueen himself. (Though to be fair, the poster of the original status update was respectful.) Apparently, never having heard of someone, coupled with the fact that that someone is in fashion, gives you the right to be flippant.

McQueen was a significant player in an an industry many people view as frivolous, but as a multi-billion dollar industry that has an enormous impact on our economy, how frivolous is it really? As Miranda Priestly so eloquently put it in The Devil Wears Prada, the influence of fashion is more pervasive than you think, and no one is immune to it:

This... 'stuff'? Oh... ok. I see, you think this has nothing to do with you. You go to your closet and you select out, oh I don't know, that lumpy blue sweater, for instance, because you're trying to tell the world that you take yourself too seriously to care about what you put on your back. But what you don't know is that that sweater is not just blue, it's not turquoise, it's not lapis, it's actually cerulean. You're also blithely unaware of the fact that in 2002, Oscar De La Renta did a collection of cerulean gowns. And then I think it was Yves St Laurent, wasn't it, who showed cerulean military jackets? ... And then cerulean quickly showed up in the collections of eight different designers. Then it filtered down through the department stores and then trickled on down into some tragic casual corner where you, no doubt, fished it out of some clearance bin. However, that blue represents millions of dollars and countless jobs and so it's sort of comical how you think that you've made a choice that exempts you from the fashion industry when, in fact, you're wearing the sweater that was selected for you by the people in this room. From a pile of stuff.

So, you see, McQueen may have been one of "those" fashion people, but it doesn't make his death and the circumstances surrounding it any less tragic. May he rest in peace.

Hump Day Hunk

noreply@blogger.com (VERONICA) — Thu, 21 Jan 2010 04:52:00 +0000

Two nights ago, I received a rather urgent message via Facebook from my friend Carolyn (who you'll remember as the knitter fundraiser extraordinaire). Stream Sons of Anarchy now, it read. Holy hotness. Carolyn, you've always been such a great friend to me. If I could ever give you anything in return, it would be a beautiful man with long hair. Enjoy.

Image: The Geek Files

Dumb Model Poses

noreply@blogger.com (VERONICA) — Wed, 20 Jan 2010 01:58:00 +0000

I must admit I nearly breezed right over this week's Dumb Model Poses nomination from the February issue of German Vogue. The model in question, Karmen Pedaru, was not hanging upside down covered in metallic body paint and eating a shoe, so initially, there was nothing to grab my attention. In fact, I felt like I'd seen this pose thousands of times before. Probably because I had seen this pose thousands of times before in different iterations, but recycling what is essentially the same clichéd formula. I would venture a guess that the intent was to make this photograph sexy and alluring, glamorous, or maybe even a little provocative. It's none of that. It's the photographic equivalent of yourr first high school boyfriend; it just tries too hard. The flowing hair, the parted lips, the oil (just when did oily skin make a comeback?), and the spread-eagle pose is so hyper-sexualized and over-the-top that it's a caricature of itself ... and about as sexy as a vibrating hotel bed.

Image: Fashionising

The Five Fashion-y Things You'll Always Find in a Romantic Comedy

noreply@blogger.com (VERONICA) — Tue, 19 Jan 2010 00:15:00 +0000

I don't think I'm really going out on a limb to say that romantic comedies are essentially all the same. They may be packaged in different ways; taking place in Seattle or Boston or Baltimore instead of the same-old same-old New York City setting, or a main character with an unusual profession, or a kooky first name, or - gasp! - curly hair. But this is as far as the genre dares to go and, much like gobbling down a fat-free cupcake, you don't know until the end how disappointing it actually is. I bring this up because a Netflix copy of My Best Friend's Girl was waiting for me in my mailbox on Friday afternoon. I popped it in the DVD player, hoping for the best.

It was ... meh. Okay, the scene with the eyebrows is pretty funny, and to be fair, I hated Dane Cook long before seeing this movie. Even so, it was just as formulaic as any other rom-com, but with more snarky men's slogan t-shirts. Which got me thinking: it's not just the script that's totally predictable, it's the fashion too! Here, the five most common themes I've found:

5. The hipster roommate/friend. This girl is two parts Daria, one part Anthropologie model, with a sharp wit and an even sharper haircut. I think you, the viewer, are supposed to pity her, because she's not feminine or conventionally beautiful and perhaps even a little bit nerdy and definitely a little bit bitter. May occasionally be substituted with Angsty Teenage Fashion Victim (same idea, just younger).

4. The career-obsessed woman's uniform. This woman cares about one thing, and that's her high-stress career. She's an ad exec, a wedding planner, a journalist, a cook, but no matter; she's usually running about like world peace depends on choosing the right kind of buttercream frosting. What does she wear while she steps on toes and condescends to her underlings? Why, a fitted, stiff white button down shirt, of course, along with the requisite slim fit pencil skirt, spiky high heels, and straightened hair. Sense of humor? What's that? This lady is Type A all the way. That is, until she meets the One. Because then, it's all about ...

3. The bombshell dress. This is what our heroine wears on the the first "big" date. It's the dress that got Richard Gere to fall in love with Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman; it's the dress that made Freddie Prinze, Jr. realize Rachel Leigh Cook wasn't such a dork after all in She's All That; most importantly, it's just enough T&A to convince guys to see it with their girlfriends - voila! Date movie.

2. The makeover montage. The hipster friend is usually involved in this scene which also includes whatever feel-good pop music is popular at the moment. This, of course, is with the exception of the makeover in The Devil Wears Prada. That was awesome.

And the number one rom-com fashion theme:

1. The wedding dress. The obvious conclusion to a proper rom-com is to seal the deal in your family's backyard with only two weeks to plan, but with cakes to taste and dresses to fit and ice sculptures to carve and live decorative swans to order ... not to mention finding The Perfect Dress! It's never said, but I suspect this is where our heroine reverts back her Type A roots.

Image: Claire Folger for AllMoviePhoto.com

Hump-Day Hunk

noreply@blogger.com (VERONICA) — Wed, 13 Jan 2010 18:18:00 +0000

From IMDb.com : When his brother is killed in battle, paraplegic Marine Jake Sully decides to take his place in a mission on the distant world of Pandora. In exchange for the spinal surgery that will fix his legs, Jake gathers intel for the cooperating military unit spearheaded by gung-ho Colonel Quaritch, while simultaneously attempting to infiltrate the Na'vi people with the use of an "avatar" identity. While Jake begins to bond with the native tri ... oh, hello there, hey, hi. Hello! Hadn't seen you sitting there. Have you been here long? Oh, hey, nice to meet you Jake. No, I have a few minutes to chat, it's cool. You're awfully cute in a tortured hero kind of way. Former Marine you say? Well, well. No, actually to be honest, your movie looks kinda boring. It's just that you spend so much time as that funny-looking flat-nosed blue guy. It's not a good look for you, really. Hey, what do you say we blow this popsicle stand and grab a drink? My treat. Just wear your cammies and meet me at the car.

Image: Manny the Movie Guy

Bits and Pieces

noreply@blogger.com (VERONICA) — Tue, 12 Jan 2010 03:53:00 +0000

A thoughtful exploration into how perceptions of beauty are relative [Apocalypstick Now]

Fashion and romantic relationships: not as disparate as you might think! [Daddy Likey]

If you want to know the color of my bra, you're going to have to do a lot better than some Facebook meme. Complimenting my shoes and pouring me a glass of cab, on the other hand, would be a nice start. [Jezebel]

Sometimes I feel like the only person in the world that doesn't "get" Lady Gaga. So, naturally, her appointment to creative director at Polaroid Imaging Products seriously disappoints me; partly because I think she's tacky and her music is nails on a chalkboard, but also partly because she is, in effect, taking a position away from someone who might actually need it. I don't think I need to begin another sentence with "In this economy ..." to drive this point home, do I? [Engadget]

Image: Amazon.com

Lara Stone is Fat and Other Complete Insanity in This Month's Vogue

noreply@blogger.com (VERONICA) — Sat, 09 Jan 2010 19:20:00 +0000

Self-absorption! Navel-gazing! Hypocrisy! Delusion! All of these things and more graced this month's heavily perfumed pages of Vogue; and to manage all of this in a measly 140 pages, well, that must have been no small feat. Some high(low?)lights:

Lanvin designer Alber Elbaz reveals just how out-of-touch with reality he really is with this little gem on the current state of the fashion industry:

"Why does every girl over five feet tall and age thirteen want to be a model?" he asked. "Why don't they ever want to be a seamstress?"

I would attempt to pick up the pieces of my shattered brain and comment on this myself, but dear Wendy from Glossed Over says it best, as usual:

"Yeah! Why be the beautiful woman who wears the clothes when you could be the poorly paid one who makes them?"

So, okay, I get it. Not everyone can be a model. But! One model - Lara Stone - seems to have slipped in under the radar, daring to wear designer clothing in runway shows despite being a morbidly obese size four:

" ... it's not easy being a four in a land of zeroes .... "It's depressing when the clothes don't fit and you are always the odd one out," says Stone.

That is, until you step out of that microcosm of society known as the "fashion world" and into the "regular world," where you are still taller and thinner and more conventionally attractive than almost everyone. Must be rough. Oh, but there's more!

"People think I'm angry because of my face, or that I'm a sex bomb. I'm neither."

Yeah, I get that a lot, too.

But enough about Lara Stone's problems, let's move on to what's wrong in Sarah Jessica Parker's life! She says:

"Fashion is my fatal flaw; it is my weakness."

Said with that special brand of narcissistic melodrama that celebrities have effectively mastered. Yawn.

Finally, for us ladies not smart enough to understand the complicated ins and outs of basic oral hygiene, we are given a fashion metaphor to explain what happens when we don't brush our teeth:

"Think of your gum as a little turtleneck collar around the tooth ... basically, if you don't get the bacteria out within 2-3 days, that nice turtleneck collar becomes like a loose cowl neck, opening a pathway for bacteria ..."

That's certainly an appealing visual, isn't it? Now I'm going to brush my teeth, just as soon as I donate all my turtleneck sweaters to Goodwill.

Image: Glossed Over

Fashion in Unexpected Places

noreply@blogger.com (VERONICA) — Fri, 18 Dec 2009 04:36:00 +0000

... and I'm back! Believe me, I missed each and every one of you.

My brief hiatus was due to a number of events including my transition to working full-time again and training for a 10K in the early spring, all whilst eating bon bons and attempting to appear effortlessly fabulous at all times. It's not as easy as it looks.

Anyway, for my foray back into the world of fashion blogging, I've decided to resurrect an oldie-but-goodie - Fashion in Unexpected Places - in which I bravely explore the underbelly of the discount retail world, sifting through jeans with tapered legs and sweatshirts with glittery puff paint to bring you the unexpectedly chic and remarkable.

Here's what I found: a totally cute tiered satin cocktail dress in a beautiful dusty purple; ideal for a holiday party but just as appropriate for a breezy summer evening. The deep v-neck and tiered skirt are feminine and flattering. It comes in plus sizes and a couple different colors, and costs less than a cab ride downtown and back. Yep. Well. It's from Dressbarn. Dressbarn! The place that had previously conjured up images of poly-blend floral tunics and stretchy pants for the shuffleboard set, Dressbarn was never even on my radar until I spotted this hidden gem. I might just snap this one up for myself.

Crushed satin shutter tiered dress, $59.99

Hump-Day Hunk

noreply@blogger.com (VERONICA) — Thu, 12 Nov 2009 03:08:00 +0000

One afternoon when I was fourteen, I was home all alone just lounging around when the doorbell rang. I opened it to find the most gorgeous FedEx guy I'd ever laid eyes on. I stumbled around for words and, finding none, nervously signed for my delivery and mumbled a quick thanks. I may or may not have then made my way to the living room window to stand stealthily behind the drapes for one last glance. I may not have realized it at the time, but this incident marked the beginning of a lifelong fondness for men in uniform.

It being Veteran's Day, I'd like to take a moment to honor and celebrate all the men and women in uniform that serve - and have served - our country. But as for this week's Hump-Day Hunk, the honor goes to the men in uniform I've loved throughout the years. These days, though, I do happen to be partial to Marines. Ooh-rah.

Image: Joshua's Mission

Dumb Model Poses

noreply@blogger.com (VERONICA) — Wed, 11 Nov 2009 01:57:00 +0000

Welcome to another mind-numbing edition of Dumb Model Poses, starring fashion's latest flavor-of-the-month, Karlie Kloss! But just who is Karlie Kloss, and how did she seem to appear out of nowhere to suddenly be everywhere? One explanation might be that she was born in 1992 and is barely 17 years old; to us, she's just a high school kid but to the fashion industry, she is in her prime. In addition, she is 5'11" with that androgynous, impossibly thin physique that the designers and fashion magazines can't get enough of. It's only natural, then, that Vogue would eventually latch on and introduce her to their perpetually miserable editorial styling, and the tired pose that her predecessor, Caroline Trentini, made famous: The Model in Midair.

Karlie does manage to add her own flavor by adding in a horribly vacant facial expression and so much deadness in her eyes that it's almost chilling (Click on the image to enlarge). And that hideous Prada skirt she's wearing? It's $1460. The top? $650. For over two grand I'd like to think she'd put a little more effort into selling the look, rather than just hanging there in midair while the clothes wear her instead of the other way around.

Image: ModelCouture

Bad Fashion Song Lyrics

noreply@blogger.com (VERONICA) — Tue, 10 Nov 2009 03:02:00 +0000

If I could talk to Fergie, like really sit down with her and have a good old-fashioned gab over nachos or something, I would ask her two things: First, I would ask whether her long, luxurious hair was real or a wig (and if it is indeed a wig, where can I get one?), and then I'd ask, Fergs, sweetie, what the heck happened to you? You were so boss back in the day, tellin' your men what was what with your crazy distinctive voice, but now ... now your music sucks and it's hard to tell it apart from that Lady Gaga crapola (and we should all know exactly how I feel about her). In "Labels or Love", Fergie sings:

Already know what my addiction is / I be looking for labels, I ain’t looking for love / I shop for purses while I walk out the door / Don’t cry, buy a bag and then get over it

True story: Once, I was upset about a guy. Then I bought myself a bag. I found that I was still upset about said guy except now, I was upset and $75 poorer. Fergie, your logic is flawed.

Love’s like a runway but which one do I love more / No emotional baggage, just replace it with Dior

Typical Dior bag: $1200. Typical emotional baggage: Absolutely free!

Buying things is hard to say / Rocking Christian Audigier, Manolo, Polo, taking photos in my Cartier

Okay. So, Christian Audigier is the "designer" (and I use that term very loosely) behind Ed Hardy. You know, I didn't think my hatred for this song could sink in any deeper, but now it's actually grown roots.

'Cause I know that my credit card will help me put out the flames, flames

... of a crashing, burning songwriting career. I can't look. It's too painful.

Image: Rolling Stone

Hump-Day Hunk

noreply@blogger.com (VERONICA) — Thu, 05 Nov 2009 02:17:00 +0000

Just last week I made the decision to open my mind (and my blog) to the previously underrepresented scruffy artist/musician type with my tribute to Pete Yorn. He's a bit of an outlier, you see, in my vast portfolio of mostly dark-haired, neatly-groomed athletic types. Though I think I may have opened some kind of floodgate, as this week's Hunk takes on some of the same qualities as the Yornmeister. I present to you, dear readers, Sam Endicott, lead singer for the Bravery, and very cute in a hipsterish kind of way. Or, maybe it's just those old-fashioned combat boots that have me swooning.

Image: Virgin Media