I just saw this chair at 1stdibs and couldn’t help thinking “Mom of Shoes!”
So from now on, let’s consider ourselves her personal shoppers! If you see something that would fit in with Mom’s fabulous new decor, send it to me at: sisterwolf666@gmail.com
Why do people want to look at those photos of pretentious-looking girls wearing important shoes with fur coats and enormous handbags? Who gives a shit! I’ve only looked at The Satorialist once and that was enough. Forget about his images; his text is nauseating!
I don’t care about him or his French girlfriend or any of those blogs that feature smug anorexics wrapped in leather or whatever is supposed to be fierce and covetable. No matter how often they’re praised as “effortlessly chic,” they look like they’ve spent half of their lives in front of a mirror.
I can’t even understand what I’m supposed to feel when I look at those pictures. Am I supposed to feel inspired, like maybe I can appropriate the Look for myself? Am I supposed to be envious? I just feel vaguely soiled from looking at them. It’s like porn for the post-sexual consumer. And to me, they all look the same, they’re are the same cliche, all lauded for being original and “getting it right.” Getting it Right is my new linguistic complaint.
Fashion is still an obsession for me, obviously, with a certain amount of love-hate conflict. Here are some looks from Secret Squirrel, a brand you can find at the Australian fashion wonderland The Grand Social. This is what I would buy if I had some money and some common sense:
It’s casual but elegant, tomboyish but okay for an old bag, much better than leather shorts or another pair of jeans.
Here’s another look from Secret Squirrel. I would feel perfectly comfortable in this for an evening out, not that I’m ever going anywhere.
You’d think I would know who I was by now, when I buy clothes. Instead, I keep buying buying shit I can’t walk in, can’t style properly, or can’t even figure out what I was thinking when I bought it. I think Secret Squirrel could help me to Get it Right.
Remember when it was summer, and we’d cut off an old pair of jeans to make shorts? I still do that, nearly every year. Why do trendy brands like Vince think we want to pay $195 for a pair of cut-offs? Why do they think we’re that stupid? Are we?
The brand “What Goes Around Comes Around” really thinks we’re stupid. They want us to pay $195 for putting some studs in a pair of Converse lowtops. The studded hightops are $350. As if!
WGACA is a multiple offender. See this “Chanel” necklace? They want you to pay $795 for it, because you think it’s vintage. Chanel is the most counterfeited brand in the entire world, and some of it is very convincing if you don’t know better. This WGACA shit is being sold all over the place for tons of money. It’s just crap.
It annoys me to have my common sense challenged like this. Everybody’s all up in arms over a pricey T-shirt by Balmain, but the assumption that the style-conscious consumer is a stupid idiot is rampant across the board.
I hope those cutoffs don’t sell. I need to think that no one’s that stupid.
R13 is a line of denim produced in Italy that triggered my irrational yearning last year with an ad campaign featuring a tomboy endowed with an endearing Fuck You attitude.
See how pissed off she is?! Her Angry Runaway Look is particularly resonant for me, but obviously the appeal is widespread.
Look how pissed off she is above, in the new season droopy jeans!
I can’t remember if I’ve already divulged the shameful fact of my jeans hoarding. I have 22 pairs of jeans in rotation. Some are black but they’re still jeans. I’m not counting the leather ones or the red ones. My only consolation is that my friend Mark has 6o pairs of Levi’s. Thank you, Mark!
I’m pretty sure that I could live with maybe 4 pairs of jeans. A baggy pair, a tight pair, a high-waisted pair, and a black pair. But just thinking about it makes me nervous. Hoarding is a difficult and persistent problem, I am learning.
Luckily, I’ve just realized that I don’t need the R13 droopy jeans ($275) because nearly all of my jeans look like this by the end of the day. I am not exaggerating. They start out tight in the morning, and later on they are sagging to the point of falling off.
I can’t get them a size smaller, because then they’re too tight. God has worked hard on this conundrum, always making sure that the next size down will refuse to stretch out enough. Let’s give Him the credit He deserves for this!
I would like someone to provide exhaustive research on the fit of different brands and styles of jeans: For example, which work best for flat butts, big butts, long-waisted figures or big hips with a small waist. I want to know which jeans will stretch out a full size and which won’t.
Isn’t there a huge market for this? Or is it only the wish of a hoarder with drooping issues?
Today, I went to Beverly Hills with the BFF and she had to hiss “Cher!” at me before I noticed Cher standing right by us in the Neiman Marcus shoe department! I turned to gawk at Cher, who looked just like herself only much smaller. She is actually quite tiny, in height and weight. She said to her assistant/handmaiden something like, “It’s really cute, isn’t it?” and her voice was EXACTLY like her voice!
I was so excited that I couldn’t stop staring. My BFF wanted me to stop, but I didn’t care. I wanted to take in every element: The black cargo pants with a million zippers, the long blue-black hair, the sunglasses that she never took off. When Cher sat down and removed her jacket to reveal a tight black bodysuit, I squealed, “Oooh, look at the implants!”
My BFF managed to move me along and we went upstairs, only to find Cher in the same place 30 minutes later. Her assistant/handmaiden was helping her to try on jackets, which she held open for Cher like an attentive date.
We tried on sunglasses while I kept an eye on Cher. I modeled a pair of sunglasses by some stupid brand I’ve never heard of, that the salesgirls were pushing aggressively. “Aren’t these glorious!” I exclaimed a little too loudly, raising the eyebrows of a gay guy who clearly didn’t agree. Everyone tried to persuade me that another pair was more flattering but I was fixated on the glorious ones.
Meanwhile, Cher was strutting around in the new Olive green Balmain military jacket.
It looked preposterous on her but she seemed quite taken with it. I turned to the salesgirls and squealed, “Look! Cher is trying on the Balmain jacket!” They nodded and the gay guy confided, “She likes Balmain.” I complained to the BFF that Cher should leave that jacket to the girl whose boyfriend hits her. It took a while before she retrieved the word, “Rihanna.”
I bought the glorious sunglasses with ny NM charge card, meaning they were free! Don’t tell my husband.
Then, we walked down the street to Saks. A frightening, giant Nordic woman showed me some awful new lipstick by Guerlain, and the BFF bought a sexy bustier by Camilla and Marc. We relaxed in the Saks cafe, where I ate an apple tart that cost $9 and started to realize that the sunglasses were a tragic mistake.
But at least I saw Cher!
Happy now? Me neither!
Here you can see the stupid leggings that I was the last to know about. I think they are less horrible than reputed to be, but they are not comfortable and there is no point to them. Where would I wear them, and why? It’s like wearing an elastic girdle from waist to ankle.
If I were a black prostitute with a bubble butt, maybe.
These stupid Black Rats retail for $175. You can win them for the price of shipping and handling, simply by explaining to me why I bought them, in 500 words. Or, by making me laugh out loud. I will post the winning entry and then I’ll have one less reminder of my tragic shopping addiction.
If only I hadn’t bought these Rats, I might allow my self to buy this amazing cashmere sweater from Henri Bendel. It was designed by a student-teacher team from SCAD, and comes in two different floral patterns.
Admit it’s beautiful!
Finally, back to PAP Smear business: Did you see the Church Lady’s blank face when asked about the Bush Doctrine? Of course I didn’t know what it meant either but I’M NOT RUNNING FOR VICE PRESIDENT! He should have asked her about birth control or why she drops her g’s when she talks to Alaskans.
Please, please, take her away.
