Hello my babies.
Sorry, I've been watching the "Donatella" clips from SNL way too much lately.
I miss the golden age of Saturday Night Live (Schweaty balls! Bobby Fischer, where is he? I don't know, I don't know! Cowbell. I could've used more cowbell.) as much as anyone else, but really, Maya Rudolph is AMAZING. Her Tyra Banks? Dead-on. DEAD-ON. By the way, did you know that her late mother is the singer of that song "Lovin' You?" 'Cause I didn't until somebody told me the other day.

Anywho, as promised, here is the list of people I am currently gleaning some fashion inspiration from, either because they're well-dressed or because they're somehow just beautiful or cool or have a little spark in them that makes me thing "Hmm" and sit up and take notice. You will notice that most of these are not people, or 3-D people anyway. So what? I was going to do a whole "Runway to Real Way" thing with the style look and then my version, but I only have pictures of some of my clothes (yes, I photograph my outfits at times, got a problem?) and I don't feel like spending six years posing in Photobooth trying to make myself look as slim as possible.


The Morton Salt umbrella girl. Since I was a kid I have been fascinated with this cute little picture. Something about it just strikes me as beautiful. Anyway, here's my approximation of the "When it rains, it pours" look.

Obviously, I'm not planning to buy solely yellow clothes from now on (I know people who dress all in one color, like, one day they'll wear all purple, the next all white, the next all black, etc. I think it's supposed to make them look intimidating and chic, but really they look like Crayolas. Where's the fun in a matching outfit?). But when I saw this vintage coat at work (I know nobody is going to believe this, but with my discount it was TWO FRICKIN' DOLLARS! DEAD SERIOUS!) I got a flashback to the sweet, unwittingly style-savvy little girl on the Morton's container and knew I had to pounce. So I did what any responsible retail-worker does. I hid the coat behind the register until my shift was over and I could employ the discount I've so come to enjoy. This one woman did manage to find it AND try it on, and I was frozen to the spot, screaming inside, "NO! No! It's the wrong color for you! And besides, it's MY coat, skank!" But all I could do was grit my teeth and ask if she wanted me to ring it up. Bitch. Luckily, I think her friend was blessed with extra sensory perception (or she could see the turmoil on my face) because she convinced her friend not to buy it and gave me a knowing look as they left. Te quiero, random lady.


Pop art-style comic books, in the vein of Dick Tracy. Besides having the effect of making me laugh (this picture is actually my buddy icon) with its awesome kitschiness, the woman is just dressed amazingly, in my opinion. Sometimes I wish I'd been alive for the days of opera-length gloves and little Phillip Treacy-style feathered caps and dashing men in Trillby hats and blue serge suits. Anyway, I've always loved old comic strips (as in, pre-Archie and Jughead) and been enchanted with the proper yet somehow whimsical style of dress.
So, voila! I present to you my new favorite skirt, found in a vintage store in Cambridge and immediately bought by yours truly.

By the way, it is SO much cuter in person than in the picture- the back has all these funky pop art pictures on it. I don't care if people think it's tacky, I LOVE it. And I wear it in a classy way, I think (I hope) with a white tank under a black velvet short sleeve blazer and black ballet flats, or alternately with black fishnet stockings under black boots, which sounds a good deal more motorcycle-whore than it actually is.





Blythe dolls. I know they're creepy and have huge heads and disproportionately large eyes with mysteriously dialated drug-addict pupils and are basically the doll incarnation of Lily Cole and her ilk (you know, the breed of model who looks like a teacup Chihuahua crossed with E.T.'s babies crossed with an eating disorder). But look how well-dressed they are! I totally prefer them to Malibu Barbie and Skanky Skipper or whoever. I covet the last doll's black bangs, as well as her printed screen dress, and the first one's blue updo and chunky glasses? PERFECTION. They're like way-cooler versions of the Harajuku Girls, because they have the good sense not to be associated with Gwen Stefani. And, because they're made of plastic, they can't speak or sing, and therefore cannot be even half as annoying as the Girls. As for the one in the middle- ah, if only I could pull off the white-girl Afro. But I can't. And here's a message to any misinformed white-girl-Afro-sporter who happens to be reading this blog- you most likely can't either. Yes, I'm jealous of dolls. Shush.

The flapper look. I have no idea who this is (it kind of looks like a way-classier Drew Barrymore, does it not?), but I found this picture online and I love it. Very few can pull off the flapper look- you have to be insanely boyish-figured and skinny and whatnot- but when you do, it is gold. I have this one amaaaaazing flapperesque black and white silk dress with an idirescent polkadot pattern (it's hard to explain) but I can't upload the photo of it for some reason. Anyway, I've just- and forgive me if this sounds pretentious- always been inspired by flapper-era style, and whenever something from that time period comes into the store I spend far too long salivating over it reverently.

Before you yell at me, I KNOW. I KNOW Cruella De Vil wanted to skin the puppies and make a fur coat, and she's one of the greatest movie villains of all time, yadda yadda yadda. And I love animals- of course I do, who doesn't love a furry little puppy? Except when it's peeing all over your new shoes. But that's a different story- and although I don't consider myself an animal rights activist (I mean, I do eat meat A LOT and wear leather occasionally, so it would be really hypocritical to jump up on my soapbox and pretend to be some kind of PETA crusader) I don't identify with animal-hatin' Cruella. HOWEVER. If we can get past her questionable ethics and nasty-ass skunked hair, LOOK at that suit. Please don't pretend like you don't have a secret fantasy of being some big business mogul or fashion editor and wearing that suit to work in your private jet whilst you scream via Blackberry at your rent boy, Hans, to bring you a Pellegrino and a bowl of Jelly Bellies with all the yellow ones picked out, POSTHASTE. Of course, I see myself more as the type to waitress in crappy coffee dives and sell handmade soap at street fairs on the weekends to pay rent while I work on my sensitive memoir, entitled "They Never Took Me To Disney World", but I could see myself doing the big-business thing for like a day if I could have that suit. It's deliciously awful and bad and wrong, but haven't you heard? Wrong is the new right. I MUST stop referencing everything I say back to America's Next Top Model. I don't think it's healthy.


I know it's probably too cliched and easy to pick Audrey as one of my style icons, but how could she not be? Besides, I don't really give a rat's ass if I'm cliche or not (hence, my profound love of WB boys and MAC cosmetics).


Enjoy!

THE TV CORNER- I've recently started watching 30 Rock and it is FUNNY. High points- Alec Baldwin (he is too hilarious), Kenneth the NBC page (whoever cast this guy is a GENIUS), Tracy Morgan playing Tracy Jordan (it really shouldn't be so funny, but it is), as well as all the little details- the guy with the trucker hats, the crazily Botoxed leading lady, Rachel Dratch's frequent cameos. The low points- there really are none, except that I don't think Tina Fey is all THAT funny. I mean, I love her and all, but she just seems kind of cold. She's really funniest when she's writing for other people. This show isn't appointment TV- it's not like the heyday of Grey's Anatomy when I would barricade myself into the TV room and anyone who foolishly tried to knock on the door of my little sanctum between the hours of nine and ten got throttled immediately, and I am NOT exaggerating- but it's amusing. I'm pretty much getting over Grey's (not that hard, since they apparently don't MAKE NEW EPISODES ANYMORE, I mean come on, it's getting ridiculous), and this show combined with Scrubs after Ugly Betty on Thursdays could aid the transition.

CURRENT ATTIRE- I could lie (thousands would) and say I'm wearing something attractive, appealing, flattering even. But no. It's a lumpy and enormous Nike sweatshirt, with my cherry-print P.J. Salvage boxer shorts and gorgeous knee-length socks with stolen-from-the-Marriott hotel slippers over that. I always take as much swag as I can from hotels- my bathroom is a treasure trove of mini shampoo bottles and teensy adorable conditioners. Also, I've got some pretty sexy crumbs all over me, as I've been scarfing a plate of delicious double chocolate chip cookies. Oh dear God, they should be illegal. WHY IS THE UNIVERSE TRYING TO MAKE ME FAT?

SIGHTINGS- The cutest guy ever waiting for the Amtrak train back to New York. He wasn't dressed that well- I mean, he was, but it was very preppy and boarding-school with Tumi luggage as far as the eye could see. Not my style- I like my men "cute from a certain angle" (read- good-looking but not so cute that they're total bastards who walk around like they think they're the cock of the perpetual walk) armed with a healthy dose of irony which is expressed through their sartorial choices, thankyouverymuch. For this guy, though, I'd be willing to make an exception. He was like Prince William, only more attractive with a normal nose, and he wore sexy little wire reading glasses, and presumably his father isn't evil incarnate. I'm not a big Prince Charles fan- who is? Anyway, Mysteriously Attractive Train Guy (I like to name people in my head) turned to me and asked me if I knew what time the train was getting in. Vixen sex goddess that I am, I mumbled something intelligible and dropped my bag. I didn't even know what time the train was getting in, as I don't keep information of that nature in my head (I write it on my hand in Sharpie and then forget about it). So my Murder On The Orient Express fantasy (without all the murder) of meeting a stranger on a train and falling madly in love didn't really pan out. Do they ever? Anyway, now that I've made everyone out there feel better ("Yes, I'm single, but at least I'm not EMMA!"), what were my other sightings? A woman was bravely trying out the old scarf-as-headband look in Au Bon Pain. The scarf was nice- Pucci, looked real- but she just looked like she'd gotten confused and wrapped her belt around her head. Points for trying, Scarf Headband Lady. Thank you for playing. I saw one of those annoyingly perfect pixieish Natalie Portman types in Urban Outfitters (I sometimes go down to the home department and just slump in the totally comfortable chairs on my lunch breaks. I got a lot of dirty looks from the employees, but hey, maybe you shouldn't make your CHAIRS SO ACCESSIBLE IF YOU DON'T WANT PEOPLE TO SIT IN THEM), wearing a long scarf, a pair of Frye boots, an adorable little pair of violet tights and a dark denim short coat with a white lacy minidress just poking out underneath. It sounds hideous, but the bitch made it work. Tim Gunn would have been so proud (or appalled.)

Must be off, cookies a'waiting.
<3