GETTING SERIOUS (FOR ONCE)

Confession time, lovers. (Yes, again. So predictable.)
I could care less about labels.
It's not a very shocking admission, after all the exposition I've shared on my immature love of Forever 21, and considering how many people in the world don't give a crap either way who designed what you're wearing. But I feel like, being a blogger who could be considered "fashion oriented", it is somewhat outside the norm. But I don't really focus much on fashion as I did in the beginning. And I've never really known much about the industry.
Personally, I go more for comfort or what attracts me. Since I have a tendency towards the quirky and magpie, with the wallet of a match girl, my exposure to designers is from gossip rags or the rare Ebay find. Yesterday was a girl's day with mom, shopping in Orlando. When we went into the Gucci store, I felt like an intruder in my DF shirt and UO jeans. Yes, I could appreciate the beauty of the bags, scarves, and shoes, but I didn't have a feeling to save up the money to possess the beautiful pieces. They do not fit into my lifestyle.
And that's ok.


(Also, Marilyn in the Orlando/Kissimme area, your vehicle is ready at Oberry's. And the dude you gave your phone number to out on the town is desperate to get a hold of you. Just a heads up, though; he calls at all hours of the night, and may have a drinking problem. Good luck!)

A REFLECTION....

A few weeks back, I noticed that the Anthroholic blog link was not working. It was stating the blog had been made private. Not being an Anthro-blogger, and only a casual fan of the line and site, I mentally shrugged and removed the link. Little did I know of the massive shit-storm that had struck the blogging community.

While browsing another fashion blog, the author made reference to Kim and their IRL friendship, and how devastating what Kim had done was to her personally. "WTF? Kim from Anthroholic? Fraud? How can I find out more?" Googling 'kim anthroholic scandal' unleashed a plethora of posts and reactions.

The basic gist: she had set up a "personal shopper" service through her blog, where she would purchase Anthropologie items and ship them to help individuals defray shipping costs to their countries, or by hunting out difficult-to-find items for them. For a fee. Now, this practice isn't completely unheard of in the blogging community, particularly with Anthro-bloggers. The vast majority of fashion bloggers are warm, friendly, and generous to a fault. And that's why Kim's actions caused such an uproar.

She'd pocket the money, and use whatever excuse possible to put off her clients for as long as possible. Reading the accounts of her victims, and believe me, they are indeed victims, she acts like a middle schooler who's trying to con the teacher into giving her more time to complete an assignment.

From the information I've read, I'd classify her as suffering from oniomania, or shopping addiction. Let me stress that I am not a qualified mental health expert, nor do I know Kim personally. I'm just saying, as a casual observer, if she isn't intentionally defrauding these individuals, then oniomania makes sense. I have had episodes of oniomania, which I turned to as a means of easing my depression, which could have spiraled rapidly out of control, had I not sought the help of medical professionals.

As a member of the fashion blogging community, I can't help but think that the materialism and flippant use of words like "need" and "want" can contribute to this disease, or even feeling like keeping up with the Jones'. I will make a point of being real with you readers about my spending, lusting, and manner of obtaining the items I present on here. This scandal has bothered me greatly, and I hope the best for Kim and her victims. May they recieve restitution, and may she find the help she needs.

VINTAGE AFFAIR

One thing I've been increasingly searching for is vintage items. I've heard the argument, and use it to my advantage, that there is a reason old fashions are donated to Goodwill. Obviously, with the various re imaginings of past fashions coming back into vogue, going for the true article is a wise way to avoid trendy pricing and quality.

If you're lucky enough to live near a number of thrift stores, spending a day off browsing can pay off big time. Get friendly with the workers. Be a regular. Ask questions. If you find out when local stores send their excess stock, you can hit a jackpot of nice, current threads without the retail price tag. If you are friendly with a worker, they may set aside some items for you.

Even better, volunteer. I know that my church thrift has some amazing pieces, and that the volunteers get first pick of the donations. You can find out if your local thrifts have similar policies. If they don't, another trick people I've worked with have done is to hide a particular item in a hodge-podge area, where it's less likely to get snapped up. So, if you volunteer, or are a thrift hunter, check those overflowing miscellaneous piles first!

If you are not a fan of thrift stores, there is always EBay. If you are tenacious and determined, you can find some amazing things for very good deals. I paid less than $30 for a pair of vintage Gucci loafers and vintage Salvatore Ferragamo heels. Those were both on my lust list for AGES. And for less than a tank of gas. BOOYAH.

Start an affair with vintage today!

LAZY PANTS, MAKE YOU DANCE

I have a terrible habit of letting my crushing self-doubt affect my life. For example, on average, I spend 50-odd hours a week working on the blog. I write mock ups of posts in a notebook I keep in my purse, browse other blogs and sites for inspiration or an interesting tidbit I could share with you all, participate in forums, composing outfits, taking pictures, and window shopping. And yet, at night, dressed in my pjs, curled up on the couch trying to figure out which post to use for an update, I begin to analyze and agonize over what I've written.

I don't know what I'm talking about... This is just what I think would be a good trend. Why aren't there more bow ties for women? Do women want to wear bow ties? I sure do. But that will definitely get weird looks around here. Damn being a drag queen in a redneck town! Ugh, this idea is total crap, why did I think that would be a good idea? I have no formal training, and my blundering attempts at being fashionable are still in their infancy. Guess that's what happens when you spend most of your life as a tomboy and suddenly decide that you can be a stylish lady in stylish lady clothing. Awkward nerd is more like it. Man.... fuck this.

And that's usually the point of the night where I start drinking. Heavily.

Unfortunately, I've discovered that wine makes me more willing to post what I feel is a sub par post, as well as confess my dark secrets, dance like a maniac, kiss boys, and make bad decisions. Like challenging a drag queen to a cartwheel-off in the parking lot of the gay bar. In dresses and sky high heels. On asphalt.

Anyways, what I mean to say is that I'm working on ignoring/overcoming my self-doubts so that I can continue to share my ridiculous opinions on fashion, DIY, furniture, cooking, child rearing, and life with you all.

Brutal honesty, baby.

HAPPY TUESDAY

I'll admit; the Florida "No Sales Tax" on clothes tripped me up. (It's a 'Back to School' tradition. Just because I wear scrubs to school doesn't mean I can't have nice things, does it?)


So, yes, I'll be throwing up my latest weakness on an OOTD. Theme: sheer insanity. Aw, yeah.

MY MOTOR MOUTH RUNS OVER YOU

I am an German-Irish-Italian raised in a predominantly German family. Needless to say, food is a big deal to us. We have strong associations to our food; stollen will always remind me of my grandmother, my mother's rolls are aces, blackened fish is brother's specialty, dad is the grill master, and hummingbird cake will be linked to my sister-in-law until the end of time, while my specialties are paella, caprese salad, stroganoff, and chocolate ganache torte.

At every event, no matter how large or small, there is always a spread. Even for family fishing trips, we pack enough brats, burgers, and hot dogs to feed three families, not to mention the veggie tray, meat & cheese tray, fruit, and drinks. And if a friend or neighbor drops by to talk, we've got some kind of treat to offer them; cookies, homemade chocolates, crostini, veggie dip.

That is how I was raised, with always having food to offer visitors. Coming from a large family didn't help me learn proper portions, because making mashed potatoes for a holiday meant twenty pounds of potatoes, washed, peeled, boiled, and mashed. (And it was never enough.) When my mother asks me to pick up a "regular sized turkey" from the market, I'm expected to come home with one no smaller than twenty-five pounds. God forbid we have Thanksgiving at our house. To this day, I routinely make enough food for twice the amount of people I'm cooking for.

Tonight, I made spaghetti with homemade sauce and meatballs. The evidence is below.


{This was our leftovers. Yeep!}




{My secret recipe. Modified because I only had diced tomatoes, not crushed.}







Enough food for three, you think?

Title: "Alligator" Tegan and Sarah - Love the song and the video is adorable.

A GREAT WOMAN

Three years.


Three years ago the greatest woman I've ever known went on to her heavenly reward. I know that's where Grandma went, because she was a living Saint. Had to be, with everything her kids and grandkids put her through.


When my family moved to Florida, and my parents started up their company, she was the one who took care of Brother and I. Until I insisted on being a latch-key kid, she was there to greet me after school. Whenever we played cards, she let me cheat. (I thought I was slick, but she always caught me.) With the patience no mortal could possibly possess, she taught me watercolors. As a mother, she raised six kids while working in a factory. (She was an army wife.) She never tried to push ideals or dreams on her kids, only nurturing their hopes and aspirations.


Even after her body became frail, and required special care, her mind and tongue remained as quick and sharp as always. Many an unworthy suitor has had this sweet, little old lady emasculate him (or her) over Thanksgiving dinner.


When I was fourteen, I went with her to the nearby army base to get her medications. It's a few miles from her condo, off of A1A. Nothing big, for an experienced driver. As we were walking back to the car, she settles herself in the passenger seat and I say, "Grandma! I can't drive." She looked at me with a poker face and said, "Just close your eyes, stomp the pedal, and pray!" She was never your stereotypical elderly driver. When she was in her seventies, the State of Florida was considering legislation that would hinder certain elderly individuals. She always drove like a bat out of hell, or else snapping at her children to "Step on it!" when they drove her anywhere.


She was a colorful, hilarious, beautiful, lovely, wonderful woman.



I miss her everyday.

GET YOUR ACT TOGETHER, WEATHER!

Today is rather lovely; sunny, mid 70s, fog burned away, and the mercury is creeping back up. Thursday was the last day of our third consecutive "cold front" and we've got the fourth one bearing down by Sunday. And by "cold front" our meteorologists mean 50s or 60s during the day and frost warnings at night. Oh, Florida, you so crazy!

I'm loving it up. We've got unseasonably cool temperatures, which means I can pretend I have a real fall/winter wardrobe! I've been breaking out the hooker coat quite often. (The leopard print monstrosity from the last post.) And it is amazing. I'd love it if my hooker coat was an Oleg Cassini, but this works fine by me.

I'm taking advantage of the warmer night, and getting some holiday cheer in me before next week kicks the holidays into high gear. Christmas Eve dinner, drinks with the girls, gift exchange, Midnight Mass, my buddy's birthday, New Year's parties, the blog's one year, my birthday... I love my crazy, busy, wild life. Truly, I am blessed.



On to the outfit!






Top: Faded Glory
Pants: Forever 21 Zipper Pocket Jeans
Jacket: Ecote
Shoes: Forever 21 leopard print flats
Earrings: Grandma's
Ring: a butterfly ring I picked up at Daytona Bikeweek last year.
Hair: tousled with hair wax, and left to air dry

TL;DR

Just a warning, this post will be some of the wordiest I will get on here.


I've broken my resolution to post on here daily. Hell, holidays are busy enough, I should've remembered the likelihood of being able to stick to a writing schedule would be shot to bits. Add some various medical issues (mine and family members) as well as a healthy dose of bad news with a side order of amazing news, and it's been a crazy crazy couple weeks.


It was a lousy time for me to hit this slide, since my one year anniversary is coming up! I can't believe it's been a year. Technically, I started it back in October of 2007, but did frequent updates starting this past year. I'll get into that more on the actual anniversary. I'm sure that's what you'd like to see. Oh yeah.


Anyways, I'm back, because I could use the happy distraction that fashion and silly blogging offers. Not only from the bad, but the exciting and terrifying. Although when I get back into the nursing program at university, I'll be wearing a whole lot of scrubs. OH GOD WHY AM I DOING THIS PANIC. (Every semester, I'm convinced I'm going to fail spectacularly, and so far haven't. Oh fear, you so illogical.)


Yes, I am a well of optimism.


As I've gone through this little blogging adventure, I've found many areas I've grown, and some areas that I still need to work on. It's not just defining my personal style, or opinions on trends, or evolving fashion. It's a bit of what is at my heart, what dreams and aspirations are long dead and which are still viable. Which attitudes need to be discarded, placed in my past and changed for my future.What is to be left behind and what needs to be nurtured. I can't party all night, or be careless and stupid with my life choices. I can't be reckless. I'm going to be an aunt. I'm going to be a nurse. I'm going to be an adult with a career and all the attendant responsibilities. To grow. Beholden to my future life choices.


I want to be a good aunt. I want to be a role model for the shrimp. Be someone who they look up to and admire. Someone who takes them on cool and weird excursions that other kids don't get to do. To be cool, silly aunt Ari. Embarrassingly, it's the newest addition to the clan that's making the changes I've been holding back on come to light.


That's enough soul baring for tonight. Got to leave us with SOME mystery after all, right?


Instead, here's another OOTD I threw together yesterday.













Top: Forever 21 fitted basic tee
Skirt: Forever 21
Sweater: Alloy in Pumpkin Spice
Jacket: Forever 21 (the warmest coat I own! It was 32 out when I took these snaps! There were icicles I had to scrape off my car. That doesn't happen often here, okay?)
Belt: Forever 21 in Taupe
Gloves: (not pictured) Portolando (GILT find)
Socks: Forever 21
Boots: Rocket Dogs
Headband: Sally's
Necklace: Forever 21
Earrings: Forever 21
Hair: Washed and left to air dry under headband



It was a horrible decision, wearing a skirt in freeze temperatures.


Hope you all stay warm, and snuggle up to your special one!

PEOPLE CONTINUE TO BAFFLE ME

I'm stepping out of my closet today because I'm very upset and confused, and wanted to write my personal opinion on a very serious matter that's been in celebrity gossip lately.

If you still haven't heard the tapes of Mel Gibson verbally abusing his baby mama, you are lucky. They were sickening and terrifying to hear, and I can barely imagine what it was like for her, what it still is like for her. My heart breaks for her and her children.


That being said, on most gossip articles that express sympathy for Oksana, a overwhelming majority of commentators are jumping to Mel's defense on the grounds that "she's a gold-digger" and "after his fortune, the whore". One of the sites that I frequent, a commentator actually said that she deserved everything that happened to her and that Mel should get a pass from the public. The more information I read about whatever it was that happened those months that they were together, the more horrified I find myself, and the more disgusted I become from all the Mel defenders.


Please, if I am missing something, let me know. The message I'm getting is a woman who was a abused, at least verbally on multiple occasions, and physically, at least once. Even Gibson admits to that much. Add to that, the assault on her 12 year old son and that their newborn baby was in such a negative environment. And I'm not even going to get into his history with alcohol and anger management issues. (Sugartits.)


The level of ardent admiration and vicious defense of his actions astounds me. Even Jodie Foster supported him! (I have always loved Jodie, and her declaration of support was very disappointing to hear.) I was just as baffled when Hollywood circled the petition to FREE ROMAN POLANSKI after his arrest in Switzerland. The defense of and admiration for this child rapist, excuse me, pedophile or does he prefer admirer of young girls, enrages me. However, I do not wish to get into his case.


When I read about the Gibson-Grigorieva case, I focus on two issues: the child endangerment, and domestic violence. Laws on domestic violence, to me, are strait-forward: if one partner assaults the other, that is domestic violence. There is no wiggl room to say, "well, she was trying to get a large child support payment from me, so I punched her, but that's totally cool!" or "SHE WOULDN'T BLOW ME BEFORE JACUZZI SO I SCREAMED AT HER LIKE A MADMAN FOR FIFTEEN MINUTES AND TOLD HER I WAS GOING TO KILL HER, SO OF COURSE THE BITCH DESERVED IT" or "my wife of over 20 years filed for divorce when she found out about my misstress, so I'm taking my rage at my ex-wife out on her because it's her fault I had sex with her". In my opinion, there is no excuse for domestic violence. There is no excuse to punch the mother of your child, especially not while she is holding said child. There is no excuse to threaten to kill your partner and bury them in the rose garden. None.


The reason that this issue guts me so much is because I was a battered woman. And once you've experienced another person's rage that way, it makes the whole world very unsafe. There are triggers that you have to work very hard to overcome. There is a gap between others and yourself that you never imagined could be there and have no idea how to bridge it. The violence and terror is only one area where the damage occurs, and overcoming the fear, even after some form of social justice, is difficult to achieve. Not impossible, but daunting.


In a way, I envy those defending Gibson who have no idea how traumatic being in that situation can be. I wish I was as sure of my stance and as ignorant of the vagaries of the human condition. I wish I could be smug in my position that that could only happen to someone who intentionally did something to set that rage off. Bad things can't possibly happen to a good person. (Obviously, they have never studied Job.) While I envy their ignorance of what happens in a violent relationship, I also pity them. I can't say exactly why I feel this way, and maybe it's just displacement or whatever, but it bothers me. I hope that they won't know the texture of a loved ones fist against their skin, the pain of a split lip and cracked ribs, the crushing fear and despair, the bruising force of fingers around their throat, the shame and hiding, the sickening desperation.


The defense of this man baffles me.

I MAKE THINGS WAY TOO HARD

Confession time again dear readers: I cannot sew worth a damn. In middle school, I lucked out of Home Ec. I don't even think my middle school offered Home Ec. (I had transfered schools three days before seventh grade started. My first school required girls to Home Ec and boys to take Shop, which really got my goat. I remember making a federal case over it while the registrar told me to get used to that being my lot in life. Yeah, what an asshole.)


Since my knowledge of sewing is limited to failing to thread a needle and stabbing my fingers with said needle, I decided this was an excellent time to create homemade Christmas presents for (some of) my family. I am nothing if not idiotically optimistic and determined. I will, of course, share my triumph or failure with you all.


My fingers are tingling already.

WHERE AM I?

What a week! Work went wild this week, between various complications and piles of paperwork, and unforseen circumstances, I spent most of my time busting chops to get caught up. Also, I spent some time leaning on my friends' shoulders because of personal life problems. When it rains, it pours, I guess.I feel terrible about letting the blog fall to the side, because I really consider this to be the fun part of my "work" in fashion. What's more, I enjoy the platform. Being able to pour out my silly fantasies and whimsy and not give a rat's ass whether or not anyone looks at me strangely.


To keep this from being a ridiculous wordy post, I'm going to be uploading various pictures I've snapped about town this week. I don't have an iPhone or anything fancy, but it does the trick.

ROCK 'EM SHOCK 'EM

PLUM LIPS


I am a horrible fashionista for never playing with my lipsticks. I'm more comfortable doing dramatic eyes and keeping the rest of my makeup simple. But now I'm going to bust out of that comfort zone! It's time to do a bold lip!


Get sassy!