jacket [f21] // shirt [thrifted] // jeans [clef del sol] // shoes [gianni bini]

I finally have a faux leather moto jacket. It found me actually. I was at F21 downtown with Sapo-chan last Friday and just when I thought I’d only be walking away with accessories…it winked at me from atop it’s hanger. I couldn’t believe my luck. You did good Forever 21, you did good.

Saturday was an epic thrifting morning with Gibson girl, totally worth the drive to the less frequented Value Village. I came away with so many beautiful fun things, most sprinkled with sparkling things, like the top above. I actually wore this outfit during the day on Saturday, sequins shine like non other in the daylight. I don’t use this word very often because I feel I often don’t qualify (one must be somewhat refined), but I felt seriously glamourous in this top. As the hot pink days of yester-semester fade into fall, a new era has dawned on my closet-dom: the Gilted age. Despite things going awry, everything’s still shiny.

I should really photograph things more religiously. Last weeks outfits totally went mortalized. This week is getting like that too. I’m just really shy about other ppl watching me do my thing. I’m fine strutting around, but when I’m freezing, its like I’m mega self concious. Granted, I’m sure it’s safe for ppl to assume that I’m a rather narcississtic creature. See I am, but I feel like that is a product of my high self esteem. However, if ppl see me photographing myself, they might get the wrong idea. I’d want to tell them that it’s for my style blog and it’s like people who video tape themselves dancing: it’s documenting my progress and striving for better.

Blue dress shirt, J. Crew; White Suspender print Tee, Heritage 1981; Sheer top, Arden B.; Pink pants, H&M; Brown T-strap Platforms, BCBGirls; Panda Bag, Pandarama

I feel like no matter what I do, I am never satisfied. I am constantly taunted by things that could be and various dreams that I’m chasing. It could be the night talking (I get very chatty and inspired at night)but I’ve just been thinking a lot again and I can’t seem to write fast enough, or legibly for that matter.

I’m just sitting and pondering on the mistakes of my past semesters and all the god damn time I waste dilly dallying in other stuff that doesn’t pertain to anything that I’m doing now. I guess it’s not wasted time really…my dreams sort of changed. But was doing what I did really what I wanted to do? I don’t know. I don’t think so. But that’s a tricky subject: if you convince yourself you want something, can you really consider it to be your dream? “It’s all in the mind, you know.”

As for my outfit, well, I was just thinking about how uninspired I’ve been lately and maybe that’s my fault. I sort of threw this on after many tries, again frustrated that I had no idea what I was going for. It all ends up being too safe. I keep waiting for it to just come to me, but I realized that it doesn’t work that way if I don’t feed my imagination what it needs. In high school, I thrived on Teen Vogue and Fruits. Maybe others would lend a hand but…those two are the ones that come to mind first. Inspiration is vital. I need it. I can’t go on without it. I’ve been starving all this time, creatively anorexic in a way.

Whoa…melodramatic much Deanne? Anyway, seriously though, I’m just having a hard time getting my style berrings straight. I don’t know what I’m becoming, what my style is turning into, where it’s going but I don’t feel like it’s enough.

Knit Blazer, Gap; Cream hoodie, Lux; Grey balloon hem dress, F21; Scarf, Gap; Pink tights, Hue; Lace tights, Leg Avenue; Boots, Boutique 9; Panda bag, Pandorama

Note to self: getting pictures taken after you’ve worn the outfit, removed it, then put it all back on hours later is not the best idea. The result is far too sloppy for my taste. The scarves are arranged all wrong and hurried. My make up that I had put on out of boredom looks like a mistake that is sort of trying to melt away but not before getting caught doing so. Plus, by this time, the bird’s nest that was my hair had fallen flat and it no longer possesses the initial intrigue. Thus, we are left with somewhat of a picture failure, which is a pity because I like everything from the waist down. Esp my tights combo, its my first time wearing the lace ones and I love the edge they add, despite their delicate nature.

My blogging has been mostly trial and error and thus far, I haven’t found a way to communicate to photographers about what it is that I want out of my pictures. I don’t like it to be angled too high or too low, but in between enough so that it’s interesting. I like looking as long as possible being on the short side. I’m picky about lighting and the way my hair looks. I get iffy about a picture if a single detail on the clothes is out of place. I hate it when my face looks too spacey and emotionless. In other words, I wish I could split into two peopel, the subject and the photographer, so I can stop haggling with my friends and feeling awkward about it.

I should probably invest in a decent camera along with a remote (to eliminate the middle man), not like my  $180 one, who’s best function is probably the fact that its pink. It’s a good on the go gagdet, but for this? No no, I need something with substance and staying power. Which means, I’m gonna have to save. Again with the saving pep talk she says! Oye oye oye.

My mother retired recently. She made more money than my Dad and the comforts that I’ve been used to are now gone. This isn’t necessarily a bad thing; my mom has been working hard all of her life and battling Parkinson’s, so she deserves this more than anyone I know. But, her retirement plan was cut by like 60%, interest rates suck so much right now, so you can imagine what that means.

It means I need to cut down my spendings. I haven’t been very smart lately and just buying things on a whim. I didn’t use to be like this; I used to just rework things, make things. I made my jewelry out of toys and old belts and bought lots of socks to play up my shoes. I lived for second hand. I think that’s what made me creative; my monetary constraints. So that’s what I’m going to do, go back to DIYing and making more of my own clothes. It’ll be better for my family if I do and better for me. I need to start paying myself again.

So with that, I’m going to make a rather difficult promise. I’m going to stop buying new clothes for awhile. I guess you could say I’m giving up shopping for lent (I’m technically Catholic, it’s a good excuse), but I’m hoping I can go longer than that. No more trips to F21 for awhile, no more eBay, nothing. Going cold turkey. God help me.

No Karl!

Karl Lagerfield, SS08 RTW

No, I will not become one of your soulless drones, dress myself in your twisted black and white vision, or randomly flash your mug DE-faced bags in front of my face you evil evil man! Who are you to cover my image with your own? You will not meat-grind-Pink-Floyd me good sir, I SEE WHAT YOU DID THERE!

Sorry about the rage, but this bag infuriates me. I’ll give him that it’s a clever idea, but it’s so…ugly.

Photos: coutoture.com

My outfit today was so boring, I felt a piece of my once 16 year old soul die. It wasn’t because I didn’t have time; I woke up right at 8 am and had a good 40 minutes to prepare. To my frustration, I failed to come up with anything not safe, which is the opposite of what I would have done in HS. The combinations I chose back then were daring and at times not that flattering, but they were fun and inspired by my curiosity with clothing composition.

Everyday is a battle to maintain the creative impulses lost to my academic life, however today was yet another sound defeat. Perhaps others would argue that it is just clothing and it’s no big deal, but not me. To me, it is my sanity and my controlled constant; it is my way of living a worthwhile existence that is in jeopardy of succumbing to the pressures of my university’s general style malaise. I am becoming less of a person than I once was; I am becoming the books I pour over, mechanized by the schedule that controls me. If I can not escape from the actions, I will do so wearing myself on my sleeves. I have to fight for my right to self expression everyday. And everyday counts.