now there there, I'm a friendly man

I've been in a bad mood lately, especially on the male front. So, as a statement of rebellion, I decided to was time to pull out my very oversized men's shirt. I bought it in Target last week as an impulse buy, to find something, anything that could fit around my goshdarn bust. It feels sort of freeing, not caring about "flattering" or "pretty" or "does it make me look thin?" when I get dressed in the morning. But I'm still hoping it will shrink a little in the wash.

A Love Letter

Dear Urban Outfitters Boots,



I know it sounds like a corny line, but the moment I saw you in the early fall catalogue, I knew it was love. You're not my normal type: You're high maintainance suede, your heel is too low to cause me bodily harm, and worn with the wrong thing, your intricate latticework could be downright dominatrix. "Feirce", is not usually what people would use to describe my wardrobe. But I can change, oh believe me, I can change for you! I can be confident, I can be the Alabama version of Emmanuelle Alt, I can be the biggest badass on the block, if only you would come home with me.

The only thing that stands in the way of our love is your one-hundred and twenty five dollar price tag. Does it really have to be this way? I can barely afford food, I simply can't make room for you right now. I have waited, patiently, for months, for you to go on sale, but I am growing weary and heartsick. Why won't you be mine?

All My Love,
Hanna

Mea Culpa

Okay, I know I have been a blogging non-entity lately. Blame it on boys, hippies, hospitals, and the Chicago format of writing. I have a dozen or so of you lovely reader, who, etiquette demands, that I reciprocate your wonderful comments. And I sweeeear, I will when I have time, feel free to beat me over the head should I forget. But I have very very exciting news:


My delightful parents finally caved and bought me a new CAMERA!!! Gone are the days of having to take all of outfit pics outside or midday for you to be able to suss out that I am wearing clothes at all. No more of my camera running out of juice mid-photograph. No more having to go to New York Effing City with a disposable camera and having NONE of your photos coming out (and then sobbing uncontrollably). And I will no longer have low resolution photos to decieve you into thinking that I am thin and attractive, how much does that rock?! This means more outfit posts, God and my schedule willing, better personal posts, and hopefully a better blog all around. This also means that maybe in the future (and that is a big maybe, as I am the most tech inept teenager known to mankind) a video blog or two?

Poststript- Are you guys kosher with the innate hugeness of the new header, or do I need to crop it down?

Out of Vogue

I should be fucking STUDYING right now for my midterms, because God knows I wont have time during the week because I promised to help like a gaggle of middle eastern exchange students during the week because I am such a pushover. But no, I am sitting here blogging because I feel I need to address this:


Now I know, Teen Vogue has never been the height of sophistication, and even if it were, like all teen magazines, it would be subject to the whims of youth trends. And right now that trend is "Let's forget the late nineties ever happened and lose our freaking minds over homogenous, blank-eyed teens with only nominal talent!". I get that. But seriously? Zac Effron? W...T...F?! Words cannot describe the faint stench of humiliation that trailed me as I walked to the cashier's counter to pay for magazine with his overly bronzed face slapped across the cover. Forget that I am beginning to skirt the line of being too "old" for Teen Vogue (and yes, I know I'm still a teenager, semantics), but this was just an indignity. If I hadn't gotten a peek at the fantastic editorial inside I would have never bothered.

That's not to say I have no problem with their content. It seems Teen Vogue's elitism is slowly coming into lockstep with their ivory tower big sister Vogue. The lavish sweet sixteen of some scantily clad Upper East Side rich girl on one page, and lambasting plastic surgery and poor body image on the other, touting hollywood starlets such as Ellen Page, Katy Perry (excuse me, one inane hit single and you're a star?) and America Ferrera as "unique beauties". Is it that they're actually unique, or they're just, shock, brunettes?! Not to mention, some of the only affordable clothes I've seen featured in the past few months are Kira Plastinina and Avril Lavigne's t-shirt line. *gag* What's next, suggesting Louboutins as part of our "must have" back to school wardrobe?

Imitation of Titian

Since I have a little extra time on my paws, (probably the last time you'll hear my say that before Thanksgiving) I figured it was high time for another of my semi-famous art comparison posts!

First off I thought I'd start with a nice challenge: architecture! You always here the "sculptural" quality of a garment being discussed, so I thought I'd put that to the test.

I once read somewhere that Rem Koolhaas and Miuccia Prada were once lovers and that's why he designs so many Prada stores. I have no idea if this has even a grain of truth, but it's certainly interesting. The Dutch architect is probably one of the most well known of the current age, and it's easy to see where his massive, geometric designs (like the magnificent Seattle library, below) could influence fashion.
Gareth Pugh

Everybody, I mean, everybody, knows who Frank Lloyd Wright is. Mysogynist? Yes. Genius? Absolutely. I remember my friend Nick and I once got into a big argument on what influenced the design of Starbucks stores more, the Arts and Crafts movement or Frank Lloyd Wright. Why a mysogynist you ask? He made kitchens inordinately small. There's a Usonian house a couple hours away from here called the Rosenbaum house. The owner's wife had four teenage boys, and I'm sure most of your closets are bigger than this kitchen. Frank Lloyd Wright is arguably best known for the covetable design of his windows.
Windows of the Robie House, Chicago 1906


Lanvin

Hans Holbein the Younger was one of the most prolific portraitists of the 16th century. Though he is most famous for his dominating portrait of Henry VIII in his overwrought Sunday's best (think of him as an early Sartorialist), most of his subjects were downwright austere. Since this season is all about pragmatism and sober lines and economic recession, I wouldn't be surpised if a few designers are taking cues from him.
Woman With A Squirrel, 1526-28


Balenciaga

The early to mid-19th century was all about rocking the casbah. Specifically, Orientalism, orient meaning the Middle East, not Asia. Lots of pictures of girls in harem pants, rich coloured silks, paillettes and feather headresses. It might as well read as a "fashion forecast" for 2008.

Pierre-Auguste Renoir "A Woman of Algiers" 1870 (I wrote a term paper on this one)

Alexander McQueen

I was fixated with the Degas ballerinas as a little one. The soft, delicate colours, the pastel tulle and elaborate tutus. God knows I wore a velvet ribbon round my neck for years (though that was partially influenced Anne Boleyn). Every designer has done a "ballerina look". But I think it looks best when it stays away from modern trappings, leotards, wrap sweaters, and far far away from leg warmers, and sticks with Degas' confectionary vision.


On The Stage, Egar Degas 1874


Rodarte

Miss Priss

I've been bad about blogging and worse about commenting lately. Ick ick ick. Curse you vedic India for pulling away from my trivial pursuits!

For those of you who don't know my father, (which would be um, all of you) he is OB-SESSED with the film Blade Runner. It is his Star Wars. He owns a box set, two director's cuts, and we have a drink cooler emblazoned with "nexus6" on the top. He once went to a specific Starbucks because the barista's name was Rachel. I wish I were kidding. I could have always taken or left it, but one aspect I did feel strongly about is the clothes.

One aspect of the future that they got right in 1982 is the obsession with past eras that is only gaining fuel here in the oh-eight. In this instance, it is the forties. But the severe lines, exaggerated silhouettes have been taken to a new level. Rachel is a great example, and one of the awful parts about this movie is how few of her outfits you get to see!

Alexander McQueen eat your heart out.

That hair/makeup is to.die.for. Never before have I so strongly desired a perm...


Fur is wrong wrong wrong....but God do I want that coat.

And on the other end of the spectrum, we have Pris:


Ultra cool. Ultra futuristic, writhing around in "hamburglar" makeup and a fishnet bodysuit. Margiela much?