On Synthetic Leather

When I was in fifth grade, my friend Julia tried to sell me her pleather jacket for $20. It was a trench coat and it was more patent pleather than plain pleather, and I almost bought it because a. it was definitely featured in the Spice Girls movie; b. I have always loved clothes; c. I have always loved pleather. Flash forward to my junior year abroad when I found myself in the mother of all Topshops while visiting my dear friend and former co-blogger Alyssa in Edinburgh. Synthetic materials abounded and a pleather jacket spoke to me from the racks. It had a voice like Kate Moss but it looked like an Olsen twin and I needed it. It was motorcycle style and came with a removable fur collar and on principle, I buy anything that comes with a removable fur collar. Bang for your back, can I get a wut wut?

Aside from being the most versatile thing in my closet, my pleather motorcycle jacket is also the founding member of my synthetic clothing collection. Employee No. 2 is a pair of pants that I bought for New Year's Eve 2k12 because I wanted to ring in the New Year looking like a Zara mannequin and since I don't have a bald white faceless head, I had to settle on a pair of pleather pants to get the job done. Despite having torn in the backside (read: butt) multiple times, these pants have proved themselves to be the key to a fun Saturday night so long as the top half of my arse is covered all night.

I knew you were synthetic when you walked in

The rest of the gang includes a pair of suede shorts and a suede fringe jacket, both of which are awesome in their own way. I won't bore you with the details but I will tell you that I absolutely could not afford the suede fringe jacket and I muttered "Uh oh, what have I done" to myself as I walked out of Anthropologie with it in my shopping bag. You live, you learn, you love, ya know?

I Zara'd my way home from work yesterday with the intention of buying a suede fringe skirt to match the aforementioned jacket, but upon entering the store and saying a nice g'day to the security guard, I made eye contact with a black pleather dress on the sale rack. This was it. The dream man of synthetic materials. I couldn't live without, it couldn't live without me, and it was $19.99. 4 realz. So I bought it. Dur. I also bought a pair of pleather shorts that were $25 because I couldn't find the suede skirt and at the end of the day, it really didn't matter which side of the faux-cow my material came from, I just wanted something to cover my bottom, though the shorts barely do.

So that's the story of my synthetic clothing collection. Don't light a cigarette near me, I will catch on fire. And not in a cool Hunger Games Opening Ceremonies kind of way.

Sneakers and Crew Socks

Here's a thought: Vans with crew socks.

The look has been flooding my thoughts for the past week, which is a long time as far as outfit fantasies go. I tried it out last year with a pair of metallic high socks and my red Supergas. I thought it was going great until a friend asked "what was going on with my socks" as if I had no idea that I was wearing metallic crew socks. What did it look like was going on with my socks? They were clearly having the time of their lives being the stars of my outfit. I retired the look immediately because her comment dropped my sartorial confidence level to below 100% and the socks had lost their metallicity anyway.

Before I get into how sneakers and crew socks will be better this time around, I'd like to discuss the plausibility of sneakers in the summer, or more specifically, in bare legs weather. It's a tricky thing for me. I like sneakers more than the average woman, a partiality that may also correlate to my having smellier feet than the average woman, and having smelly feet is ind of a one step forward, two steps back situation. One plus one equals two and I can't wear sneakers without socks. I need to wear socks, except my keen eye for detail combined with my slight obsessive compulsivity means I can't wear ankle socks with non-running sneakers. The tiniest bit of sock exposure over a sneaker drives me insane (see: white ankle socks and Supergas). So, if I'm going to wear socks with sneakers, I might as well go to extremes and wear crew socks. It's very Wet Hot American Summer, don't you agree?

I like the idea of wearing high socks and sneakers with a dress. It reminds both the outfit wearer and any outfit observers that though the wearer's pedal half resembles that of a Lord of Dogtown, she is still a womyn who likes to feel the wind beneath her wings/through her legs as she's walking down the street. Can I get an amen?

Man, is that an eclectic outfit or WUT: Madewell poncho dress, Vans, Stance Banner socks, Thorlo Classic crew socks, Lulu Frost earrings, Madewell necklace

The Babysitters Club

After two nights of babysitting this week, I've come to the conclusion, succinctly put by a friend, that it's the best gig on the block (literally speaking: 83rd street). I realized this as I rode down the elevator of an Upper West Side building with a wad of cash in hand after spending three hours sitting on the couch of a young couple who four years ago was just another pair of attractive magna cum laudes announcing their nuptials via the New York Times. Instead of going to an ATM to take out cash, I ate Thai food on someone else's dollar, watched Anthony Bourdain on Netflix, and read magazines all for the sake of making sure nothing happened to a sleeping baby who I've never seen in the flesh. Pinch me, I live the life, I really do.

There's something about babysitting that causes me to revert to my high school self. Whenever I babysit, I feel the need to raid the kitchen cabinets of whosever house I'm in. This habit started way before I hit whatever level of maturity comes with entering high school. My older sister used to call me from the neighbor's house where she was sitting to tell me if there were any cookies or ice cream worth coming over to eat. Usually there were because the only semblance of junk food in my house was stale pretzels, so yes, any offer of a cookie would propel me across the backyard. By the time I was responsible to take care of someone else's small children on my own, I knew how to tactfully eat my way through a snack cabinet. Like, which type of fruit snacks are worth opening a new box for? Answer: Fruit rollups. They're so worth it that it's probably best to eat the entire box so the mom doesn't realize that she bought them in the first place.

(Don't even get me started on the snacks I ate while babysitting in France. Girl talk: I literally can't.)

Second, I still wear an iteration of the outfit I first put on to babysit at 15. When I went to a friend's house post-childcare gig the other night, she looked me up and down and declared, "classic babysitting outfit." If you too came of age in the mid-aughts watching Friday night ABC Family lineups on a neighbor's couch, then you know what I mean: ill-fitting jeans, shoes that are easy to put on as to avoid the awkward "you already paid me but now I need to tie my shoes at the front door" moment, a brightly colored North Face rain coat or fleece, and a Longchamp bag with books and a laptop should the remote control be too complicated to figure out. I wore black skinny jeans to guard a sleeping infant not too many months ago, but they weren't conducive to eating tortilla chips and watching TBS on a sinkable couch.

Since this blog vaguely rallies around the theme of fashion, here's an outfit idea for the mat-ure babysitting lewk. It features a Rag & Bone sweater, but I'd like to note that if you're wearing Rag & Bone sweaters to babysit, you probably don't need to be there in the first place.

Citizens of Humanity jeans, Vans, Rag & Bone sweater, Stephane Verdino bag, button down shirt

Overalls!!

One of my friends turned me on to the prospect of overalls a couple of weeks ago when she recommended I watch In A World. Lake Bell's wardrobe in the movie isn't anything to write home about, but she does sport a pair of overalls that look really comfy and chic in a late '90s kind of way.

I was also watching Mamma Mia on the plane the other day, a movie that could either be construed as the best or worst thing ever. I've seen it maybe 15 times because I own it in my iTunes (I have no idea how it got there), and each time I watch it, I get the urge to break out in song in a pair of overalls à la Meryl Streep. Worth noting that I get the urge to break out in song like, 10 times a day.

To state the obvious, I really want a pair of overalls. I don't consider them to be appropriate attire for the typical 9 to 5 work environment--although they could be at my place of work where lucky for me and the paisley printed velvet pants I wore the other day, anything goes. I feel like overalls are best for a walking the dog occasion, which happens to be one of my least favorite activities unless I have the intention of using my #pudge to meet/stalk/attract members of the opposite sex...in which case I probably shouldn't be wearing a pair of baggy overalls.

My ideal overalls outfit would be a combined channeling of Lake Bell in In A World and myself in 2nd grade when I had a different pair for each day of the week. If a pair of overalls were in my closet right now, I'd wear them to work today with a long-sleeved crewneck shirt and my new Adidas. Add a plaid shirt around my waist for the grunge effect. And an ear cuff. So into ear cuffs right now. And def a backpack.

Adidas Campus shoes, Frame denim overalls, Gap long sleeve crewneck, LL Bean flannel, Campbell ear cuff, The Row backpack

What's the difference between like and love? Because I like my Skechers, but I love my Prada backpack.

I love my Skechers.

That's because you don't have a Prada backpack.

Paris to Mont Saint Michel

A few more notes re: Paris. When I wasn't traipsing around pretending I was Adele in the Someone Like You video, I went to the Premiere Class Exhibition, a trade show of sorts in a giant tent in the Twooo-ler-eeeze where hundreds of clothing and accessories brands exhibit their collections for the upcoming season. I got to wear a press pass around my neck and I felt all sorts of awkward as I walked around without a clue of what was going on. It's quite cool, and I felt extra triumphant when I sought refuge in the tent after running away from a gang of gypsies who had bombarded me asking if I spoke English. Yah, I do. The exhibition is kind of a double edged sword for shopaholics like lil' old me because while I got to look at hundreds of clothes and shoes and bags, I couldn't buy any of them until they hit stores in the summer. Tant pis. I did get a cool canvas bag though. Swag, ya know?

One of the collections on display was Le Mont St. Michel, a Brittany-based brand that has a Parisian vibe akin to Maje, Sandro, Claude Pierlot and all those designers who have now set up shop on the second floor of Bloomingdales. Madewell and Steven Alan sell some of Le Mont St. Michel's goodies, but to get the full effect you might have to transplant yourself to one of their boutiques in hashtag Paris.

Le Mont St. Michel is the best thing since sliced bread for those of us who wear striped shirts every day of the week. They've perfected the striped top in both shirt and sweater form, and if my conversion skills are correct, the tops are cheaper than those from Saint James. They also have some bomb diggity graphic sweatshirts and loose slacks. Clicky clicky here to see what I mean.

PS. The brand's namesake, uh, Le Mont Saint Michel, is one of the neatest places evar. It may or may not be one of the wonders of the world. I'm too lazy to check on Google, so if you find out, LMK. I once tried to give myself an impromptu spa treatment using the sand on its beach because I thought it would have that Dead Sea effect of clearing my acne. It didn't.

Adidas, or Not

I began seeing Stan Smiths in street style pictures during New York fashion week but didn't realize how viral the trend had become until I set foot in the city manifestation of my soul mate last week (that's Paris, captain obvious). Everyone (though not anyone I personally know) has them--three of the bitchy chic buyers on my flight were wearing them, as was the manager of my favorite boutique by the Sèvres-Babylone metro stop (I'll never know the name of the store because its name is displayed in illegible neon pink font).

I've been doing some thinking on the Stan Smiths: I like them but not enough to buy a pair. I have a pair of white leather sneakers already, and a little part of me squeaks every time I look down and notice they're not as bright and clean as they were five minutes earlier. Now that I think about it, the appeal in the Stan Smiths lies in their tennis shoe shape, not their bright white color, though that does help. When it comes to an Adidas sneaker, I'm partial to a darker version in suede that proudly displays the logo. 

There are a lot of sneakers in current spring collections and upcoming fall collections that seem to have taken their shape inspiration from an Adidas original—or just a regular old tennis shoe. Based on my shoe observations whilst in Paris, I'd say that we're about to experience a resurgence in the flat tennis/soccer/skateboard shoe arena, even though one in three French women still wear wedge sneakers.

Below are some of the sneaks that have been on my mind. I have a particular inkling for the Twins for Peace shoes--two girls in the airport were wearing them in a beaded version, and I walked past the brand's store in the Marais by chance. Of all the shoe varieties, the most economical option would be to go to Foot Locker and buy a pair of Adidas or Pumas. I did, and I can't wait to wear them with my #trackpants.

PS. I'm back chez moi and slightly depressed because I'm not in hashtag Paris anymore, but that's okay because there are things in New York that I missed, like my bed, my mom, and almond milk.

Clockwise from top left: Sandro shirt, Veja shoes, Adidas Superstars, Saint Laurent low-tops, Twins for Peace low-tops, Puma Classics, Golden Goose sneakers, Vanessa Bruno trousers.

Patterned Pants: Silk Edition

Of all the email newsletters that I receive in my inbox, one of my favorites is Citizen Couture, although I guess it really isn't a newsletter because its contents are limited to a single street style photo. It doesn't come at the usual mid-morning time as most blasts. It usually comes in the middle of the night, which means that when I unconsciously check my email at four am (digital digital get down, bad habit), I have a lovely street style photo to gloss my eyes over.

Example: This photo came at 3:03 am on February 19. I effing love Rachel Nguyen's oufit--especially what appears to be silk pants. Also, she makes me want to go blonde. I'm going to do it. One day. 

Below, a silk panted outfit:

Vince sweater, J.Crew café capri, J.Crew denim jacket, Jenni Kayne D'Orsay flat, Zara bucket bag, Derng bracelets

Toga Pulla Booties

Need. These. 

They're like a hybrid of Chloé studded booties (which I sometimes dream about/is a decent amount of my salary) and Frye boots.

Mhhmm.

Would like to point out that the resolution of this picture would be better if I had a pair of these boots and could take a picture of them sitting comfortably in my closet, rather than sourcing this picture from Google images. Something to think about.

The Graphic Sweatshirt

I can't remember if I've done a post on the graphic sweatshirt yet. If I haven't, I should have, and if I have, then this is a refresher because there's a whole new crop of graphic sweatshirts on the market worth coveting.

I've been a champion of the graphic sweatshirt since I bought one that says RUN DMC at Urban Outfitters last year. I always hate myself a little after I buy something from Urban Outfitters because I can't help but think that I'm paying twenty dollars too much for something that I could cut up and stain myself or just buy at Housing Works.

Graphic tops are dangerous waters to tread into. You have to really know what's going on on your chest before you go out in public wearing it. For example, one of my friends claims that she wore a shirt that said 'Afternoon Delight' for the better half of sixth grade, not picking up on the innuendo given her prepubescent nature. I was really tempted to buy a 'Who the Fuck is Mick Jagger' shirt from a Paris boutique that I walked past every day two years ago, but I decided against it because I don't have the lifestyle for those types of tshirts. RUN DMC, despite my friends' accusations that I was an 'effing poser,' was a safe bet because I know one and half Run DMC songs and I've seen every episode of Run's House. Although, I'll point out that I'm currently wearing it inside out because I don't want to draw attention from my fellow patrons at the New York Public Library.

I really want the new Isabel Marant graphic sweatshirt that says Good Morning Tokyo. I used to have an inclination towards all Tokyo-themed graphic tops because I lived there for two short years in my #youth, but this one is $280 and given that I'm currently trying to live in bigger and better places than my parents' apartment (JK, the places I'm looking at are neither bigger nor better), spending my dollaz on that sweatshirt won't really get me anywhere but back home for more roasted brussels sprouts.

Below: Isabel Marant and Erin Wasson, two sources of graphic sweatshirt inspiration. (High-res pictures, who needs 'em, amirite?).

Bright Lights, Big City: Boston

I'm about to embark on a weekend trip to the tri-state area of Boston (topic worth discussing: is Boston part of a tri-state area/does the convergence of any three states denote a tri-state area/am I New York-centric if I've only ever believed there to be one tri-state area, that which I grew up in?).

My journey begins and ends with Megabus, requires a commuter train ride from Providence to Boston, and will inevitably include a couple of stops in the wrong direction on the T. Point being that I'll be moving around a lot, so I need to bring as few items as possible, and carry them in the least offensive bag I can find (read: not my North Face backpack).

What to pack, what to wear? Since I'll be New England, I can wear all of the Patagonia garb I spent my undergrad years collecting. I've also recently acquired by way of buying a pair of white leather high tops, which one Bostonian friend remarked were about as impractical as a poetry degree. Black jeans and a striped shirt are a low maintence base, and a pullover and leather pants can be swapped in or out to dress things up or down. Also, a beanie. Duh.

I'm planning on bringing my computer with me, which defeats the entire purpose of packing light. Tant pis, ya know?

ACK Surf beanie, Converse high tops, Saint James shirt, Patagonia pullover, Sara Berman leather pants, Rag & Bone black jeans

The Mid-Winter Coat

Follow my blog with Bloglovin
[Disclaimer: below post is extra materialistic. Don't say I didn't warn you.]

The internal dialogue of a shopaholic often goes something like this: "I really need a [insert item of clothing]. Once I get [said item of clothing], I won't buy anything else for another month." But then, after said item of clothing is bought, another comes over the horizon and the whole if-you-give-a-mouse-a-cookie thought process starts up again. It's a vicious cycle of which I'm very much a victim.

I thought I had cured myself of my winter coat conundrum in December. I had a solid three coats in rotation--a black duffle coat, a green fur-lined parka, and a heavy duty arctic parka. While combing through the sale section at Anthropologie last week though, it dawned on me just how vital our coats are to our personas in brutally long New York City winters. Our coat goes everywhere with us--it's our awkward companion when we're at a crowded bar, it sits with us at movies and restaurants, and it touches up against the microbe-infested seats and handrails of mass transit. We get a lotta bang for our buck when it comes to winter coats in New York City, which is why I need a new one.

I thiiinnkk it was in the Look for Less that Stacy and Clinton divided outfits into three categories, one of which was called The Wildcard. I'm taking a similar approach to my mid-winter coat appraisal. Mid-winter is the perfect time to take advantage of various sales and buy the wildcard coat--faux fur, plaid, a cape, whatever--that you first started pining for in October. Chances are that it's anywhere from twenty to seventy percent off now, and with one half of the season behind us, you can wear it into March and it will still be new-ish come next fall.

I did some heavy duty mid-winter coat research yesterday; the results are below.

Scotch & Soda faux fur coat, Band of Outsiders camel coat, Jonathan Simkhai color block wool coat, Sea check mohair wool coat, APC faux fur toggle coat, Rag & Bone Harlow coat

Mom Jeans

Attention, attention: Mom jeans are coming back.

The high-wasted, straight-leg, faded and sometimes ripped look that constitutes the much-parodied mom jean is back. Jean Stories recently shot Doutzen Kroes in a pair of "a real mom's jeans," so-called because they belonged to the stylist of the shoot's mom. I've been seeing mom jeans on the racks lately, but it didn't resonate with me until after I tried on a pair of jeans whose strange cut made me question if I was in too-small boyfriend jeans or too-large skinny jeans that the 90s cut might be back. Turns out they were mom jeans that just didn't fit right.

(Sidenote: When I was in ninth grade, I had a crush on a boy whose girlfriend (spoiler alert: she wasn't me) wore mom jeans in a non-ironic way. My whole world went dark when I realized that the L of my L preferred a girl who wore mom jeans with Asics to, well, one who believed that Asics should only be worn when on a run. The boy's girlfriend clearly had more important things to do than belabor over her weekday outfits because she went on to the type of Ivy League school that prefers applicants whose extracurricular activities include fencing, not cutting cross country practice.)

Let's talk about how to wear mom jeans. Since the high waist is an integral part of the style, the pants should be paired with a top that accentuates it, like a tucked-in T shirt or a cropped sweater. A belt would bring more attention to the waist, and since we're channeling the 1990s, a thick brown belt will do. As for shoes, maybe a pair of heavy-soled oxfords or better yet, a Penny loafer? We could honestly get this whole look from the Gap circa 1995 for under $100.

MiH Halsey Jeans, Rachel Comey white top, Acne cropped sweater, ASOS Jacquard jacket, Bass penny loafers, Dr. Marten's Irene shoes , Rag & Bone belt

Leopard Prints: Trendy or Classic?

I'd argue that everyone should own at least one item of leopard print clothing. Five years ago (shit, it's 2014), leopard print was just another animal print trend, whose popularity among my age group was most often evidenced on a pair of Tory Burch Reva flats. Now, leopard has surpassed giraffe and zebra and graduated from trendy to classic status.

When wondering if I should buy an item of clothing whose practicality is debatable, I ask myself if the piece in question is a trend or a classic. Striped shirts: classics. Velvet pants: trendy (I bought them anyway). Frye boots: classic. Leopard print: classic. Zebra print: trendy. Q.E.D. (Not sure if that's applicable here but I was never good at proofs anyway).

I have two pieces of leopard print items: a pair of pants and a shirt. Both were impulse purchases made for stupid reasons, but I've managed to wear each article enough times to successfully add them into my outfit repertoire.

Based on my experience, leopard prints bring out the most in an outfit when worn on shoes or as a handbag. I once tried to order a pair of leopard print booties online from Zara, but the shoes they sent me were one size too big and had sold out by the time I tried to exchange them. I went to bed angry at Zara for two days, but all was redeemed when I saw a Jonas brother on Fifth Avenue after returning the shoes at the store.

I'd say that there's no better way to end a blog post than with a Jonas Brothers anecdote, so below is a leopard print accented outfit for you to mull over.

J. Crew wool bomber, Rag & Bone boyfriend jean, Golden Goose ankle boots and sneakers,
Clutch found on Etsy, Madewell top

"If you're a nice person and you work hard, you get to go shopping at Barneys. It's the decadent reward." Said SJP

I got out of work a little earlier than usual today, given that it's the day after Christmas (doesn't anyone celebrate Boxing Day around here?), so I did what I always do when I get out of work a little early. I got on the M4, which shares a spot with the M3 as my second favorite bus route in the city (I swear I'm not on the #spectrum, I just like to stay attune to the workings of the MTA), and I went to Barney's. I'm also attune to how pretentious the second half of that sentence might sound, and even though I got paid on Christmas day (a Christmas miracle! JK, I was totally expecting it), I can't quite afford anything at Barney's, except if I go to the sale section on the very top floor.

Lucky for me, there was a massive 60% off sale happening on the very top floor, and I came dangerously close to buying some very well-discounted shoes that I didn't need. While I was trying to imagine a pair of pony hair booties in my closet, a girl walked past me who looked like she was filming My Super Sweet Sixteen, minus the camera crew. She had long, blonde straight hair and her face was heavy on the bronzer and eyeliner, and she was wearing a lot of glitter embellished articles of tight white clothing. She had a flamboyant male companion with her, who kind of looked like McLovin from Superbad, and who was also wearing glittery clothes. Worth noting that he had a pair of overalls draped around his shoulder like he was in the last half hour of a Project Runway challenge. Anyways, the girl saw a 60% off sweater that she liked, and she told McLovin to go retrieve from the rack. McLovin suggested she try it on (valid point, it had a weird cut), but she said that would be stupid and she would just buy it and decide if she liked it later (which would be even stupider because 60% discount implies final sale).

The girl's combined snobbiness and bad sense of style made me feel bad for her, because she would never be excited to walk through Barney's and wonder which floors all the celebritities were on (that typo is so intended), or calculate how large her entry-level paycheck would have to be so that she could buy a pair of full-price pony hair booties and still maintain a social life and a three meals-a-day kind of lifestyle.

Long story short, she made me no longer want the pony hair booties.

They're Rag + Bone. 

I still want them. 

Quilted Bomber Jackets, Who Knew?!

I saw a few quilted bomber jackets while racking through offensively color schemed striped shirts at The Gap the other day, and I DIG THEM.

First, a word on The Gap. I don't love the Gap, but it's such an effing (my computer just tried to autocorrect effing to offing like, 10 times--ain't gon' happen) institution that I can't help but instinctively go in and buy striped tops and jeans when I pass a Gap store. I used to stroll through The Gap at the Sangertown Square Mall (a leading competitor for the number one spot on the "Most Depressing Malls in America" list) when I was stressed out in college. I also used to impulsively buy capris at Gap Kids when I was in fifth grade. I have a lot of Gap-related stories up my sleeve, but I'll save them for when I'm the star of a future Gap campaign (#backtoblue, bitchez).

Anyway, they def got it right with the quilted bomber jackets. The jackets come in navy, light blue, and off white, and in a floral pattern whose practicality I'm not sure I can justify. They remind me of a few quilted outerwear pieces from Timo Weiland, both of which are men's (as all good items of clothing are).

Quilted tops, be they from The Gap or from a contemporary designer, are amazingly versatile. They can be worn under thicker coats in the winter, or over a sweater in the warmer months. Burberry quilted jackets are a little too "I'm an aspiring squash mom"/"154 days until The Hunt" on this side of the Atlantic, but I #respect the people who wear them because they will have them for forever, and I love when clothing becomes sentimental.

Anywhooze, the Timo Weiland vest below is on sale!! Buy it and let me know if you do so I can "borrow" it accordingly.

Top two jackets are from The Gap; bottom two are from Timo Weiland, Church's chukkas (ugh, I love chukkas), 3.1 Phillip Lim track pants

Snow Boots, blegh.

Ugh, snow boots.

I have a lot of mixed feelings towards snow. It's pretty on the trees outside of my apartment, it's gross in slush form on the side of the street, it's annoying when it gets in my shoes. I could write a haiku on snow, but I'd rather air my thoughts on snow boots.

I hate them.

They make my feet look fat. I hate myself for writing a sentence like that, but they do. My default snow boots are Bean Boots, which seem to look good on everyone except on me. They ruin whatever outfit I wear them with, so I'm guaranteed to have a bad day with Bean Boots on my feet. That's probably why I hated second semester of freshman year of college so much.

I tried to substitute New Balance sneakers for Bean Boots last year. My feet still looked extra masculine and they were always a little damp once I got from point A to point B, but a French person once told me that "I was so French" for wearing sneakers instead of snow boots, so I kept wearing them. In fact, they're on my feet right now.

I've been considering a Doc Martens Chelsea boot as an alternative to New Balances and Bean Boots. Their patented leather material means they're waterproof, and their Chelsea style means they aren't too punky.

But then again, I could always go rogue and buy a pair of Sorels.

Nevar!

(Sorry guys, but you have to bear the brunt of my autodidactic Photoshop skills. One of those Bean Boots totally got cut in half. #trying.)

The Office Holiday Party

I didn’t realize that office holiday parties were a #thing until my company flew its East Coast employees out to its San Francisco headquarters for a week of holiday festivities. Most of this past week was spent doing our usual work in an overcrowded office that resembled the library during finals week, complete with lots of snacks and socializing. The intended team bonding part of the week took hold during many cheese-plated happy hours and in the filming of a holiday movie that required me to be in a San Francisco alleyway at 7 AM one morning to reenact a scene from West Side Story, an activity that would’ve been more fun if there hadn’t been human feces ingrained in the pavement. This spirit-week-on-steroids that I’ve signed myself up for comes to an end tonight with a holiday party/movie screening, which brings me to the topic of this post: office holiday parties.

The office holiday party is one of those things that us newly minted members of the workforce have previously only seen in movies (um, Love Actually)--who knew people approached them with such tenacity in real life? When I arrived in San Francisco last Saturday, my sister and brother-in-law told me of not one, but two, work parties they might have to attend that night. I’ve also been keeping tabs on the tent that’s taken a week to erect at the Levi headquarters courtyard that I pass on the way to work. Be it a potluck, a happy hour, or a karaoke night, most of us have a holiday event with our co-workers in the next week, so what the eff are we going to wear?

I’m wearing a dress that I got at the Brimfield Antique Show this past September. I’ll save the details of Brimfield for another post, but here’s some context for how the dress came to be my chosen office party costume: Brimfield is a massive antiques market in Massachusetts that happens three times a year. I haggled the price of the dress from 28 to 23 dollars (5 dollars is a lot for the #underpaid), and my live-in seamstress (#mymom) shortened it about 5 inches. It looks like a tunic dress, and it has a pink and gold metallic paisley print and a gold braid weaving down the front. It’s apparently handmade, which is believable because I found a bee hive in the right armpit. I’m pairing it with black tights and Zara booties, and I CAN’T WAIT!

If I hadn’t found my outfit four months earlier, I probably would’ve been scurrying up and around Market Street looking for a dress to wear tonight. If I had more funds to my name, I would’ve express ordered something from Net-a-Porter. For the purpose of this post and because I love playing fantasy closet, below are some holiday office party outfit ideas.

Miu Miu jacket, Markus Lupfer blouse, Edie Parker clutch, J.Crew cafe capri, Christopher Kane floral skirt, DKNY pumps,  Elizabeth Cole bracelet, Nicholas Kirkwood pumps, Dannijo necklace

OMG, Monogrammed Clutches

If there's one piece of diction that's been a main-stay in my vocabulary since before I proactively began learning new words (shout out to Hot Words for the SAT), it's OMG. No need to point out that it's actually an acronym, you get the gist.

For a brief period in 5th grade, I used OMG so often that it only made sense to change my AOL screen name from sunnyelly to Omg265, whose numerical latter half has no connection to me whatsoever and was automatically generated by AOL. It wasn't long before I ditched Omg265 and settled on the generic nickname-random number combination that has since become my online identity: ellie2635.

Screen names aside, I haven't been able to kick the OMG habit. I insert OMG into sentences where Valley girls use "like" and most of my thoughts start and end with OMG. I have to censor myself when speaking so I don't sound overly excited at every minute life detail.

So it only made sense that when I saw the below picture in a J.Crew Facebook post this morning, my first thoughts were "OMG I need it." I didn't realize the post was an advertisement for monogrammed bags until I went to J.Crew's website and hopelessly searched for said clutch. On a related note, my lack of middle name makes monogrammed items an awkward option for me, so I might just have to buy myself an OMG clutch.

PS: Isn't it so obnoxious to see OMG written so many times?

The Time I Bought Men's Jeans

As Calculus talk goes, functions can have both local minimums and local maximums, as well as absolute minimums and absolute maximums. My friends like to take these terms and apply them to real-life situations. For example: "Omg, he completely snubbed me, whatta local min." Or this: "Guys, I just ate 12 donuts. Absolute minimum."

There's a fine line between what distinguishes a situation as a local vs. absolute minimum, and since I don't think of myself as a drama queen, I'm going to classify the multiple trips that I made to the Gap in the past 24 hours as a cumulative local minimum.

The Gap is right next to the subway that I take home from work. Every day I pass by the windows and think: a) I'm ethnic enough to have been a Gap kids model in my #youth, b) I could really use another oversized men's sweater. Usually I don't go in because I'm busy jamming to Robyn on my iPod and wondering what vegetables my mom is steaming for dinner, but yesterday I decided to stop in because I heard 'Bleeding Love' playing in the store and I really like 'Bleeding Love.'

Once inside, I was reminded about how much the Gap makes me want to wear striped scarves and buy my family Christmas gifts. I had drifted into the men's section to look for oversized sweaters when I came across a pair of men's jeans for $10.97.

"Gold mine!" I said to the petite man standing across the sale rack from me. I took the conversation inside my head and thought about how creatively cutting edge I'd be if I bought a pair of pants from the men's section instead of paying for "boyfriend" jeans from the women's section. Why spend $59.50 when you can spend $10.97, amirite?

I was too embarrassed to try the pants on and I had to get home to catch the aforementioned vegetables while they were still hot. I took the pants to the register, where five Gap employees rescanned the item number so they could find the same pair of magical sale pants. Anything for a sale, we all agreed.

When I tried the pants on in the comfort of my overheated bedroom last night, they wouldn't zip. My self-esteem balloon deflated in approximately two seconds. Yes, my mom's vegetable medley was more fibrous than usual, but these pants were way too small.

I went back to the Gap to return the pants this afternoon, but the salesperson (one of the five friends I made last night) explained that since they were final sale, I couldn't return them. I couldn't even get store credit. And I thought the Gap always gave store credit.

So, I'm stuck with a pair of men's pants. I'd save them for my future boyfriend (creepy), but I could never date someone who wore a smaller pant size than me.

Eff this. Whatta local min.

Trendy Sweatpants

Thanksgiving is fast approaching, which means that it's time to broach the subject of elastic waistbands, and more specifically, sweatpants.

I cahn't believe I haven't let my incongruent thoughts flow on the topic of trendy sweatpants yet. I should've done it a couple of weeks ago when one of my friends called on me to find her a pair of neutral-colored, tapered-optional lounge pants. I found a pair from Free People, and I've yet to be reimbursed with the glass of wine-as-payment that was promised. That's okay, the same friend gave me a leopard print dress of hers without me sacrificing anything from my own closet last April, so I think we're even.

I've had a thing for trendy sweatpants since (ugh, here I go again), I went to France when I was 18. The French lycéens who me and my American friends paired ourselves up with in our week-long school exchange taught us three things I'll never forget: one can never wear too much bronzer (debatable), faux fur and pleather are wardrobe essentials, and there is such a thing as trendy sweatpants.

To the French girls, fashionable lounge pants equaled Adidas track pants, which looked really good on them and really bad on me. One of the girls had a pair of neon green track pants with baby blue stripes, which she wore with white canvas sneakers and a baby blue t-shirt. In retrospect, I see how this outfit can be construed as the fugliest thing ever, but at the time, I couldn't imagine my life progressing without a pair of brightly colored Adidas track pants. I got a pair of baby blue ones with white stripes and tried to wear them with different combinations of shoes and t-shirts but nothing clicked. I retired them for good after wearing them with chestnut Uggs. Brutal.

I made another attempt at trendy sweatpants a few years ago after seeing a cuffed heather gray pair from H&M. They were on sale, so I bought them. A couple of hours into the first wear, the fabric had stretched out to give me a very embarrassing case of dumpy butt. My friends noticed it before I did and proceeded to sing Prince Ali whenever I walked by because my trendy sweatpants had reincarnated themselves as Aladdin pants.

After two failed attempts to pull off sweatpants in a non-couch setting, I've given up. I can only hope that the pair that I found for my friend see her off with more luck.