Who am I missing? DJ Tanner to be added shortly.

green apple

A while ago the boys at Proenza Schouler sent me Dog collar? I think it's one of those things for clutches but I never use clutches so I've taken to just clamping it on to different parts of my outfits.
top + clamp thing, gifts from Proenza Scouler. DIY'd skirt from dress from Salvation Army. yard sale belt.

I must say the clasp part is VERY mesmerizing and would probably be distracting if I wore it to school. The colors remind me of the bottoms of CDs, which are also mesmerizing. You could probably hypnotize someone with the shiny part, and then make them buy you more of these in more shiny colors so you can hypnotize them even more. It's practical, too!

i will never get tired of this collection

To continue yesterday's post on Marc Jacob's Fall collection, the campaign came out these past couple weeks and only reinforces the sense of nostalgia I got from the show. As for the first shot, well, that kind of carpet-wallpaper-furniture combo just brings a certain sentimentality to the already wistful shimmery bow dress and long brown skirt. The last two remind me of the part of childhood nostalgia where you try and recall what it's like to really enjoy the things around you and to find them new and exciting. So basically what I'm trying to say is, Juergen Teller is a time-traveling copycat who went into the future, read my blog, and then used my interpretation of it for his photography. The joke is on him, though, because his copycatting forced me to write that sentence, which made me think of a great new idea for a television series I will soon try to get in development: TIME-TRAVELING CAT.

nostalgia by marc jacobs

Isn't it strange how differently you can see a collection after experiencing something completely independent of anything having to do with the collection itself? Rereading my review of Marc Jacobs Fall 2010 I wrote the night of the show, it's not that I necessarily disagree, but as I now try and preserve memories from the first 14 years of my life, saving anecdotes from old play dates and getting way too saddened at the sight of my elementary school before I begin 9th grade in the fall, the wool skirts and barely-there nightgowns are something different to me.
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Yesterday I wrote something for a zine I'm making* about what it's been like to try and sustain pieces of childhood and now certain elements of the collection resonate for me in that light. The simplicity in Mary Jane-esque shoes, embroidered florals, transparent nightgowns in baby blue and a sunshiney yellow, chunky sweaters, bows, and a daisy print all collectively remind me of the blissful ignorance and innocence one has at a very young age and may at some point yearn for. But, as nostalgia goes, dwelling can be unhealthy and painful, so dashes of newness in the forms of sequins and rhinestones and golden threads and glitter plastic, are essential. Balanced out by these details and the use of modern fabrics, the collection is saved from being vintage redux. The glimmer elements are a reminder to move on.

Now, I know these were not the intentions of Marc Jacobs, but I like finding a collection that I feel effectively translates a feeling of mine, whether the designer meant it or not. It wasn't supposed to be about adolescence and I don't think it was designed for adolescents to wear. Well, not exclusively. I think it truly caters to all ages. And that works with what it means to me, since nostalgia can't be something you feel only at the time where childhood is like, see ya, sucker! and then teenagerdom is like, MUAHAH, YOU'RE MINE, HERE, HAVE SOME PIMPLES.

Nostalgia creeps up on you and puts you in a haze, and this collection did the same thing. The overall simplicity brought everyone at the show that night into a childlike state where something as mild as a long woolen skirt was magical. (Well, everyone in my viewing range, at least. It's awesome to see people break their facade because a collection is just that good.) It redeemed the most inspiring part about childhood nostalgia, when everything was intriguing and new. Trying to keep in a constant state of excitement and wonder is difficult, but occasionally something like, say, this collection, comes along, and you just can't help but let your eyes widen.

*The piece of writing will not be published online since I'd like to keep some things offline and special and whatnot. But basically: childhood, grasping, whiny teenager, you get the gist. (I know I'm still a child, but not the way I was when I was, like, eight.)

it's summer, let us all...

(Ignore the weirdo image, I just meant it for the song WHATEVER GET OFF THE INTERNET)

An open letter to Seventeen Magazine, also, WHY ARE YOU UGLY WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU

I started writing an email to Seventeen about this, but then at the suggestion of a tweeter, figured it would have more power if I just posted it here. Commenters, please add your two cents! I would also like to direct you to this awesome blog, The Seventeen Magazine Project, a documentation of one girl's experience living under the magazine's advice for a month.
(Bottom right hand corner.)
Dear Seventeen,

I am writing you concerning your headline on your June/July cover, "THE PARTY DRUG THAT CAN MAKE YOU FAT & UGLY." I hope you keep these problems in mind for your future issues.

First of all, "fat" is a descriptive term. It is not a negative thing if it is what is healthiest for a person, and I mean ACTUAL health, not like how your "Health" section is really just code for "Skinny" ("Feel lighter and leaner!") It's very disappointing to see your efforts with the body peace treaty and Jess Weiner's column about body image contradicted with the suggestion that fat=ugly.

By trying to discourage the use of drugs with the threats that it will make someone fat and ugly, you're saying the worst thing that can happen to your average reader, a teenage girl, as a result of drug use, is not that she will have any damage done to her brain or become unhappy, but that her appearance will suffer (again, being fat does not mean bad appearance, but that is what you imply.) Notice anything wrong with this picture?

I know that the reality is that people do value looks over intelligence, and that therefore, the easiest way to convince them not to do pot is that it will make them unattractive. But it doesn't have to be that way. Pop culture and the media, two things teenagers especially breathe, have quite a bit to do with the way teenage girls are expected to value beauty over all else. You, Seventeen, do too, and you have an influence, so use it. I know your intentions are good, but there are ways to discourage drug use without taking away from another important message. Teenage girls are worth more than looks, and we don't need another media outlet telling us otherwise.


P.S. I'm just taking a guess here, but could it be at all possible that your valuing looks over intelligence or happiness is somehow related to your advertising content?

(Image source.)

stuff about fashion blogging, again, again

(The first two.)

So I just watched Jefferson Hack's interview with Imran Amed of the Business of Fashion for the thousandth time, because it makes me very happy, and very optimistic about this digital age, which is so big that it's beyond any of us and we have no clue what to do with it, and about fashion in general.
Don't you love this guy? I like how, among many other things, he said magazines are only more important now that there's no need for news and there can be substantial content. For me, there are only a few magazines whose more news-type stuff I read (Interview, T, Vogue US) and the others I really just look at the editorial content.

Aaaaand I smiled at what he said about bloggers. Does this mean I think I deserve to be sitting front row, or at all, at a few shows? Hell no, and it's never because of my blog alone, it's because I'm affiliated with a project or magazine that has me there, but I'm happy to write about what I saw and how I feel about it on the blog as well, and hear what my commenters thought, and maybe this reaches a different demographic of people than a magazine or newspaper, because anything can only reach so many people before there have to be some that can't identify with it. This doesn't mean anyone has to be all print, or all blogs. No one is going to stop reading a magazine they like because they started reading a blog. Blogs are not magazines, they are not alternatives to magazines, and they usually have different goals than magazines, though it doesn't even make sense to generalize it that way because each blog or magazine has a different goal from the next. It just means that you can hear from someone with years in the industry and someone who is more outside of it; you can hear different opinions from people with different backgrounds, and this ultimately makes for a more interesting discussion. I don't think the digital age means that bloggers, not magazines or critics, decide what's cool or what people wear; I think it means that no one really decides that now, because there are so many points of views. I know that I don't try to give any advice about what people should wear, because I just would like everyone to wear what they want. This larger discussion sort of forces people to be more creative and honest, which is a good thing, no? All this Internet-ness makes fashion about a conversation anyone can take part in, which is, in my opinion, more democratic and interesting.

Still, I didn't turn in my vote for the CFDA -- it's a different thing, because my opinion on my blog is less determining of someone else's fate than a CFDA vote. I can post a rap about Rei Kawakubo and write about the magic of Celine for this blog, but I can't hold that kind of responsibility for another person's career. I just want to be a part of the conversation.

Sooo, speaking of industry pioneers doing interviews with the Business of Fashion...
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Very jealous of anyone who lives in London! For those of us who are stuck in our homes, it'll be livestreamed here on Thursday, July 22nd, 7:30 GMT. I can't wait! And now, while on my shopping fast, I am horribly tempted to look at Net a Porter. Ack.


I saw Courtney Love perform at a party last September, and since Hole became my favorite band, I’ve regretted not familiarizing myself with it before that night, which I could’ve made much more special. Still, I don’t think I could’ve gotten attached to Hole at that time the same way I am now. At some point during the second half of 8th grade, I became sadder and angrier; to this I do not credit teenagerdom, or angst or any hormonal whatever, just learning, and not the kind that I was supposed to be getting from school. This is when it became necessary for me to talk my way into the computer room during art class to listen to “Northern Star” instead of researching whatever I said I would research and to bring my cassette player to gym class so I could silently confide in Live Through This while sitting out. Now, I don’t know if it was actually necessary, but the computer room was comfort and the tape was security, and has become a fixture in a red backpack I almost always have with me outside the house. I just need to know it’s there, and that coiled up inside are my thoughts and feelings and truths, like a reel of fortune cookie slips. Hearing them can be like when you’ve been sitting in silence and then are startled at the sound of your own voice, but in this case its someone else’s voice, and they’ve articulated what you wanted to voice perfectly, at times without having to be very articulate at all. To confront this voice is to feel free, for at least 38 minutes and 23 seconds. For at least 38 minutes and 23 seconds, these thoughts and feelings and truths don’t make my mind feel like a living room littered with scabs, and I can find a comfortable place for them.

Courtney herself is a different story. While her music is something I already feel connected to, she’s more aspirational. Yes, aspirational. I count her as one of my role models. Yes, role model. Not that I plan to go her route in many areas of life, and like everything and everyone in culture, you look at your own morals and figure out what you can take from the subject. But man, would I like to have the strength to be raw and loud and careless. She has one leg up on the speaker and one hand strangling a guitar and lipstick running from her mouth, sprawled out and messy like her lyrics, and mascara smudged from a dirty and painful and possibly quite real view of things. Her voice drawls, and spits, and her lyrics crawl, sometimes to beg and sometimes out of vulnerability, and sometimes in a way that is creepier and, if it sticks to you, is like an itch. Raw and loud and careless. And angry. Thank God someone is.

Every night of the past couple months, I have fallen asleep with Live Through This in the cassette player next to my pillow. I know in a muscle memory kind of way how many grains of silence I have to get through before hearing the haunting riff that begins “Violet.” I know exactly when my chest will tighten and I’ll be reminded of the line from Almost Famous about loving a band so much it hurts; usually during the chord progression right after the intro to “Miss World,” then as layers of melancholy promise hold on to each other as Courtney sings the album’s title during “Asking For It,” and always as she barely breathes out the first line to “Doll Parts.” On worser nights where I'm not out by the end of Side A, Side B's opener is so rough it blocks out everything, and then I'll have shut down by the bridge of "Softer, Softest." Since "Rock Star," the last track on the album, is the one I hear the least, it only exudes more power when I do listen. One of these days I'll take what I know from Courtney and have the strength to really scream it when I play it on guitar, not that kind of thing where you start to scream it but then it becomes this kind of silent stage whisper, even though there's no audience, and you're really just being a coward.

This is where every person with whom I’ve argued about Courtney Love will say that the Courtney I love shut down 15 years ago, along with the end of the Live Through This tour, when she hung up the babydoll dresses and ran a brush through her hair. But the Courtney who inspires me is still strong and raw and loud and careless, voicing thoughts and feelings and truths, and pissing people off in the meantime. This all seems to be constant for her. On Friday, it was 46 years since it all began.

I’m not a music critic. I don’t know music. But I do know that Courtney Love changed my life. Hole, for sure, but mostly Courtney. Happy birthday, and thanks.

run away, it's divine

As all these stores begin stocking Fall stuff ("But it is July," you say! "I don't get it either," I reply!) I should probably get up all these pictures from when I borrowed Miu Miu's Spring line, eh?
dress (skirt and collar poking out) and shoes borrowed from Miu Miu, American Apparel sweatshirt, Timex watch, random hair ribbon, socks from Isabel. (FTC disclosure: sweatshirt and watch were sent to me by the companies.)
You see, I remember that at the time that I took this picture, I had a whole story to go with the character and the smile and the blue hair and the church and the shoes in the basket, but that was so long ago, as I am a gigantic lazy wimp who doesn't edit photos for months, that I have forgotten it. So I am going to make this as easy for me as saying "And then I woke up!" to end a bad story: use your imagination, kiddos! Wee! Summer! Etc.

Givenchy Fall 2010 Couture

It's times like these where I wish I didn't describe so many things using the word "amazing" so that it would have more meaning here.

reminder, internet!

Have you turned in your entry for the Shaded View on Fashion Film contest? Because, you know. You should do that.

these days i sit and think a lot of all the things that i forgot to do

Photo by Spencer, skirt from Polly Sue's Vintage, American Apparel socks (FTC disclosure: they sent them to me), shoes borrowed from Miu Miu.