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Want to hear a little story? Well I suppose you don't really have a choice now do you? Once upon a time, I was a mini-diva with a blonde bob, a feather boa draped around my neck, and plastic heels confined to my feet. Then there was my brother; the pyromaniac child who would throw those little army green toy soldiers into the family bon fires while enthusiastically chanting "Die, die, die!" And then one day, with the inspiration of my brother (and designer Balmain), I realized that his days of scorching toy soldiers was a superb muse for a very androgynous and marvelous outfit.
For a while, I have been openly addicted to the military trend that consumes every glossy page of magazines the bible. Every time I see a picture of a military inspired editorial, or just a page that I feel is reminiscent of the army, my first instinct is to tear it out and store it in my nightstand drawer for safe-keeping. You should just see how many tear-outs I have stashed in that drawer, it's kind of sickening. It's gotten to the point where it is so bad, that I feel kind of like a pre-pubescent boy hiding nuddie magazines. But back to the military look- it evokes strength, power, dignity, and let's admit it, makes even the daintiest woman, look certifiably bad ass. But I'm not referring to just throwing on a pair of leather boots with any ordinary dress, which just so happens to be another one of my never ending addictions. I'm talking about the full blown military inspired pieces, with the endless army green, the structured jackets, and then comes the leather in any form; boots, leggings, shorts.
For my outfit, I meshed my brother and I's childhood personas, combining his toy soldier state of mind, with my diva-ness, which translated in my opinion, fabulously. I donned a silver sequin dress with an army green mid thigh length jacket, tall leather boots, and then as usual, piled on the over sized rings. I was expecting witty little comments from my classmates about looking like a military Barbie doll, which I would have gladly accepted, but surprisingly, they all responded very well to the look. For some odd reason, all day I sort of felt like a confused gay guy; he knows that he is gay and just wants to frolic around in sequins while dispersing glitter, but for the sake of concealing his true identity, must wear masculine coats and speak in a low tone. Maybe that's why I loved the look so much..I'm not really sure though. All I know is that I am thirsting for some more military staples, the one jacket and leather boots, is just not cutting it!
Dress- Love Culture. Jacket- Forever 21. Boots- Forever 21
Maybe I'm a bit biased, being a former ballerina and all, but I could go on for days talking about how much I admire ballet inspired pieces. I would easily swap my harsh color palette of black, black, and black for the dainty pastel pinks, stone grays, and crisp whites that accompany ballerina influenced items of clothing. Everything about the look just seems so hopelessly romantic, effortless, and whimsical. A woman draped in icy pinks and a touch of tulle just screams to me that she can gracefully conquer the world, and only with a flick of fairy dust and a pirouette or two. Pair this look with a masculine blazer, leather boots, or simply something studded and you've got the perfect mix of pretty gritty. But in all honesty, you could strut around in just a pastel pink lacey blouse, sans pants, and I guarantee you that I would drop to my knees and bow-it's just all around brilliant! Makes me wish that my days of insecurely prancing around in teeny leotards, hours spent at the ballet barre, the permanent dent in my hair from always wearing a slicked back bun, and the bleeding from pointe shoes were still existent. Well enough rambling about memory lane, here's the trend at its finest.
Images via http://forums.thefashionspot.com, https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgECID75tlK42JaQ_zMej9Yyl6mSKVVWND0m6PNUYbJkzPb3EJwQhnHwwSZNdst4PUw6U0x25RUNMlR52TZBK9CaN3SXbrHVjJmTHbp6HHcxRDAuJGIglw67-pOZZyhzYN7WcUFcUZIX2w/s1600/chanel-ballerina01.jpg, https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLPNPwtvxha49hWsP2wrGHfQx-wyQwV2flHLWi7Iqg0188Yir0O3RBpDTPuTk_IIY77Su8vxLPGtPfXSYtYCJk4RrkoDGKTgw8FSc_2t0vhaoSkX6iAIrfRIvx03vD3uIawpoPQL7VV3w/s1600-h/2274040754_73dbf52bf4_o.jpg, http://lostinaspotlessmind.com/, ilikeyourcardigan.blogspot.com
I fortunately remembered to tune in to Marc Jacobs' live broadcast of his Fall/Winter 2010 fashion show. It was truly therapeutic. His designs embodied that classic, simple essence that every women dreams of obtaining, but rarely ever does. Neutral colors such as tans and grays floated down the runway on very refined, doll-like, but yet classic Gone With The Wind esque garments. I'm sensing a shift from micro minis to longer, more modest dresses and skirts for next season. Don't get me wrong, I'm all for flaunting what you've got, but it's about time that we start gravitating towards more fabric, the world doesn't need millions of Lindsey Lohans, it's hard enough to stomach one. I don't know much about being high (sorry to bring you up again LindsLo) and achieving that euphoric state, but I'm pretty sure I managed to hit euphoria tonight. And how appropriate was that soothing rendition of Somewhere Over the Rainbow? I've been over many rainbows, and there's never garments like that where I go. Dear Marc, take me to the rainbows you are flocking too. Maybe the fact that he is the Oz of the fashion world allows him to mentally locate himself on another planet, and Mr. Jacobs, we love what you're doing, so let your mind wander. I'll try to get pictures up soon once they start floating around the internet, but for now you're going to have to deal with this pathetic excuse for a review of the always magnificent, Marc Jacobs.
Model-Anastagia Pierre. Photographer-Sean Ocean
So this doesn't have much relation to fashion, unless lacy bras and crotchless underwear is now considered couture? Didn't think so. But it's that time of year again, the time where we all drive ourselves mad searching for that perfect card that has the right balance of sultry and sweet. The time where our new year's resolutions to shed those extra holiday pounds, are put to rest thanks to cheap chocolates, that is, if they ever were even alive. And for those of us who don't have a Valentine, it's the time of the year that the ulcers begin to form as solitude suddenly becomes a crisis while we indulge in pints of Ben & Jerry's Chunky Monkey dreaming of David Beckham topless and ask ourselves-What's wrong with me? Why am I single today, of all days? Am I really THAT unattractive? And then there's those of us who repeatedly chant to ourselves that it's just a commercial holiday meant for corporate America, even though the lack of tacky teddy bears embroidered with 'I love you' and bouquet of roses that will be dead by the next morning, slowly eats away at us. And trust me, I'm as guilty as the next of all of the above. But in all honesty, the whole I love you forever-or just long enough until I can get into your pants and have a great story to tell at the office on Monday- Valentine's day love LUST situation, isn't all that grand. Being OUT of love on Cupid's holiday, is actually tres chic. Here's why:
1- Ya know those 24 hour sappy love movie marathons that you hate to love, but can't resist? Without the attachment of a nagging man, you and your girls can freely enjoy! So go ahead ladies, drool over the celebrity eye-candy, we won't judge.
2- You won't have to worry about which heels to wear with that little black dress, the only fashion crisis you may run into is whether to wear your black or blue sweats. Does it really get any better than that?
3- Extravagant dining will not be on your list of activities for the night, and your thighs will thank you for that.
4- The faux smile and "Thank you, I love it!" that you've got rehearsed, won't need to come into play.
5- It may just be a bear and some chocolates, but America seems to believe that just because a stuffed animal is stitched with dingy red hearts and silly little sayings, it should double in price. One of the biggest pros about not having a Valentine, is the fact that you will actually be to able to pay your bills in the month of February AND splurge on those sky-high stilettos you've been lusting for. Thank you nonexistant boy toy!
Image via http://www.smh.com.au
When I heard the news, I didn't catch a glimpse of my face, but I could only imagine how ghostly my already pale face appeared. My heart sank, my jaw dropped, my tears were on the brink of flowing (I wouldn't have minded the smeared mascara that would have embraced my face all day, it would have served as a beautiful accolade to the great, but I figured for everyone else's sake, I had to hold it together). Today, the fashion world lost one of it's heroes, Alexander McQueen. A talent and passion such as his is a rare find. He was more than just a designer, but a visionary, an artist, and an icon. His ability to express such creativity and emotion in a garment has left me, and most of the world, speechless. Mr. McQueen, I bow down to you, I applaud you, I admire you...and any other form of praise that one could do. Your designs will forever serve as a remembrance of your impact on the fashion world. I think I can speak for the world when I say we love and miss you. May you rest in peace.
After months of telling myself that I WOULD create a fashion blog, I finally committed. I'm here to bring you all that fashion has to offer: the overpriced garments that we put our rent on the back burner for, the models who frighten us with how thin they are, but can't help but envy them, the outlandish couture creations that the father of fashion, Mr. Lagerfield, stuns us with each season, and of course, the affordable yet still stylish pieces that we have to settle for when we don't have a wad of Benjamins burning a whole in our pocket. This is my first blog, so bare with me, but I promise that you're patience will be worth it!
