MY Foolproof Outfit

So since it's been hella nice weather (like in the 80s), I've been getting lots of reading done, either in the shade by the pool, or taking my dog to the park to read there, so not only am I flying through my school reading for the week, I'm also getting caught up (a little) on the epic number of magazines lying around my apartment. March was super-busy, so I kind of had a serious backlog going (I don't think I'd ever been that behind on the New Yorker, and it was driving me nuts since people kept mentioning articles I hadn't read yet -- I hatehatehate knowing in advance what's going to happen in anything! Seriously. Like I'll even avoid watching the previews for movies I know I will definitely want to see. I'm like the person the phrase 'spoiler alert' was invented for).

Anyway tho, I was just reading the May issue of Lucky, which got me thinking about some stuff. I have a weird love/hate relationship with Lucky. Like I have to read it, but it drives me crazy. I'm obsessed with the idea of making a chart of all the adjectives and adjectival phrases they use and how frequently they use them ("of-the-moment", "effortless", "perhaps the most _____ we've seen"). Every month (and on their website probably every day), they have to convince you that tons and tons of clothing, shoes, makeup, whatever are somehow the most (adjective) stuff they've seen yet, and also of course stuff you'll "wear again and again." But the whole point of Lucky is getting new stuff! I think this is why their book failed for me -- if you honestly do just get these basic types of things they talk about, I guess that means you're all set. But Lucky can't exist if you're all set. Ahhh!!! It's a magazine and a paradox all at once.

I do give them props though. 'Cause they've been doing it a long-ass time, and it's got to be a bitch to keep coming up with new things like "How to wear ... merkins!" (those creepy Victorian pube wigs) or something like that. And it's reasonably enjoyable, even as one has to silently curse one's self while reading about all these like, 22-year-olds who have ridiculous jobs (including, of course, information ad nauseam about the mag's staff -- many of whom I will say, to their credit, are significantly older than 22). Sometimes, one even winds up mentally re-writing the articles to self-indulgently promote one's own style agenda. Which is how I wound up with this combo of their monthly features "My foolproof outfit," "Style expert," and "What works for me?" I call it: "Style Expert: My foolproof outfit that works for me." (Shoot, should I have ended that with a question mark? Probably not, as I really do need outfits I feel I can actually wear if I'm gonna get out the door in the morning.) Since I didn't feel like getting dressed to do any of this, here's my crappy illustration to my faux feature:



So, I'm ridiculously self-conscious about my midsection, and dress to conceal, conceal, conceal, even though I know most of this is in my head. I do however, like my legs a lot, and since high school have found miniskirts to be one of my most favorite (and weirdly, most comfortable) things to wear. To both conceal my loathed middle and keep from looking beyond trampy, I like to wear very non-fitted shirts with them. And of course, ballet flats since duh I wear them every day (my Barney Rubble feet -- they're technically too small to be Fred Flintstone feet -- can't handle heels. Also see above re: looking trampy in a miniskirt). So anyway. I wear variations on the same thing a lot, particularly when it's warm out (even in SD, I can't pull most of these off in winter). Does it work? I don't know. I kind of don't want to know, 'cause again, I need to be able to leave the house in the morning. Do I get really dressed up considering that I'm a grad student? Oh gosh yeah. But I can't help it! I like getting dressed, I like digging around in my giant closet, I like going to thrift stores, so sue me.

(What the crappy drawings of me are actually wearing: Left: This probably fake definitely awesome Christian Dior logo bag I got in OB, amazing Sonia Rykiel cardigan I bought in PB, black Calvin Klein underwear wifebeater, that gray skirt I made out of pants a while ago, metallic blue scrunchy ballet flats from the Gap I also got in red; Middle: Not-an-actual-diamond pendant I inherited from my grandmother, long locket necklace I bought at the Tag Sale on the Green, pink wifebeater, turquoise C&C Pandora top from the Buffalo Exchange -- which I bought in three colors, miniskirt made out of a pair of white Earl Jeans, bronze-colored Old Navy flats, the world's largest silver Marc by Marc Jacobs bag that I can probably just hide inside if my outfits are as embarrassing as I fear; Right: Pink beaded necklace I bought at that terrifying place that's in where Nadeau's used to be, pink wifebeater, completely awesome blue button-embellished bubble-hem top my mom bought me at Topshop when she was in London, pale khaki miniskirt I bought years ago at Macy's-- the color is all wrong in my drawing -- and also have in black, giant hideous Juicy Couture bag that I can fit my dog in, blue and white print Old Navy ballet flats.)

P.S. Also my feet actually often do point in weird directions, it's not just that I'm lacking in artistic skillz. I'm really pigeon-toed, have been since I was a little kid (the way I slept as a very young child made me develop with my hip bones pointing out and my toes pointing in). Thanks to years of horseback riding (which among a zillion other things develops your inner leg muscles, one of the only ways to deal with this) I'm not at like, corrective shoe level or anything, but even still, if I'm not paying attention, my feet point toward each other (or if I'm lying down, cross).

[I read this book yesterday for one of my classes. Oh, so many issues. It is a good thing I have four days or so to sit on it and calm down. I just feel like Karen Cerulo makes up rules for stuff, is like wow, this explains everything, but is so, so, so not methodologically rigorous. Half her focus is on the news, and she spends the whole book saying lead instead of lede! But more to the point, she never explains how she chooses any of her samples, then is just like check out my table, this shit works. Sorry, no. And in some of the sections, especially the one on painting, she's really stretching. Especially with the visual stuff, she never explains any of the theory behind what she's doing! It's just, "oh, people look at stuff and see it this way." Now, I don't think I'm so special that I've been saddled with some freak brain that is completely unique from the rest of the world. But I disagree with some of her readings of this stuff, which implies to me, you know, other people do too. Which means you can't base your whole argument on effing fundamentals of cognitive processing! Especially since you never explain any sort of biological or cognitive basis for anything, you just assume it. And have the balls to put it in your effing title! Gosh. Cerulo may be the Dave Eggers of the social sciences. At least for me, anyway.]

Currently Reading: Deciphering Violence: The Cognitive Structure of Right and Wrong (Karen Cerulo)