My friend and I were talking over coffee the other day, and the subject skedaddled over to past crimes of fashion. You know, those moments where you thought you were so best-dressedglamorousflossyflossy, but really, and only after time has passed, do you realize how much of a hot mess you were.
Listen, when I was in college, the cropped pant, or jean just started coming back. So, I thought, hey, why not fashion tape (and when I say fashion tape I really mean masking tape) my jean's hem and make it look cropped?
Good idea, right? Wrong. It was the hem version of Parallax error. I mean, what was I thinking? The length I chose didn't make my jeans look like I bought them cropped, it made them look like I was wearing a pair I got from when I turned 11 years old.
And you know when the tighter the tee, the better, was the in thing? Yeah, let's just forget that happened.
And how about another jean DIY. So I had this look in mind where I wanted my jeans to look lower on the waist than they actually were. You know what I did? I belted the bottom of my shirt, just the exact bottom, to create the illusion of a lower, belted pair of pants. Like anyone's going to believe my zipper was only an inch long!
Our pre and early teens don't count, of course. I mean, it was my mother who made me wear tops and pants in matching print (after I asked her to buy them for me), and she made me put on those blouses with shoulder pads (she did, really), as well as the tent-like trapeze dress in a dizzying Pucci-wannabe pattern (that was all me). And, the black bicycle shorts with the hot pink stripe in the sides(still me).
And while we're at it, I also get a pass for that horrid shaggy haircut that looked like two haircuts in one, I mean, welcome to the ground floor, oh, wait here's the top deck! I also wash my hands clean of cargo pants, chunky shoes, and lace hem leggings.
Finally, this song has been around for a while but it is stuckstuckstuck in my head:
Tuesday, June 21, 2011
Thursday, June 9, 2011
Boob Gesturing
I watched X-Men: First Class recently. I'm telling you now just in case my fingers start typing MICHAELFASSBENDER&#! out of nowhere. Now that that's out of the way, here are more random tidbits.
I wore a pair of low-heeled t-strap shoes to work the other day. My co-worker unwittingly gave me a backhanded compliment by admiring them and then asking, are they soft? To which I replied, they are! The sole has some comfy padding to it.
And then she clarified and asked, I mean are they Sofft?
Really? Is it bad that I felt slightly offended? I mean, no offense to Sofft but I might need to be limping before I start wearing borderline orthopedic shoes. MICHAELFASSBENDER%$33
I was at Nordstrom the other day, on the hunt for the Nu Bra to go underneath the bridesmaid's dress for my cousin's upcoming wedding. I was on the phone with my uncle, the designer, who was telling me which undergarment would go best with the dress. So there I was, in public, asking if it's individual cups, or a whole bra, and where are the adhesive strips, or if it's fabric, and naturally, my hands were gesturing of their own accord.
Then I realized, I had one hand cupping my boob for most of the conversation. Can you imagine what it would have been like if the conversation was about which panties would be best?
I had a haircut recently too. This may sound odd but it's been years since I've set foot in a proper salon. Most of my haircuts have been expertly done by a lady who either comes to me, or I go to her apartment. In any case, I tried Seven at Pacific Place. On a side note, is that how it is in salons these days? A live DJ? What's next, a scissor-themed dance party? Back to hair, I love my haircut. It's that collarbone-length that I've wanted for a while now.
A nice, young lady already done had herses. Sorry. That was Ru Paul talking. I mean, a nice, young lady (who must have had a degree from the School of Small Talk) did my hair and I really like the results. Although when I woke up this morning you'd have thought I did my hair with dynamite. MICHAELFASSBENDER+=?/<
Photo: Gossip Boo Crew
I wore a pair of low-heeled t-strap shoes to work the other day. My co-worker unwittingly gave me a backhanded compliment by admiring them and then asking, are they soft? To which I replied, they are! The sole has some comfy padding to it.
And then she clarified and asked, I mean are they Sofft?
Really? Is it bad that I felt slightly offended? I mean, no offense to Sofft but I might need to be limping before I start wearing borderline orthopedic shoes. MICHAELFASSBENDER%$33
I was at Nordstrom the other day, on the hunt for the Nu Bra to go underneath the bridesmaid's dress for my cousin's upcoming wedding. I was on the phone with my uncle, the designer, who was telling me which undergarment would go best with the dress. So there I was, in public, asking if it's individual cups, or a whole bra, and where are the adhesive strips, or if it's fabric, and naturally, my hands were gesturing of their own accord.
Then I realized, I had one hand cupping my boob for most of the conversation. Can you imagine what it would have been like if the conversation was about which panties would be best?
I had a haircut recently too. This may sound odd but it's been years since I've set foot in a proper salon. Most of my haircuts have been expertly done by a lady who either comes to me, or I go to her apartment. In any case, I tried Seven at Pacific Place. On a side note, is that how it is in salons these days? A live DJ? What's next, a scissor-themed dance party? Back to hair, I love my haircut. It's that collarbone-length that I've wanted for a while now.
A nice, young lady already done had herses. Sorry. That was Ru Paul talking. I mean, a nice, young lady (who must have had a degree from the School of Small Talk) did my hair and I really like the results. Although when I woke up this morning you'd have thought I did my hair with dynamite. MICHAELFASSBENDER+=?/<
Photo: Gossip Boo Crew
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