Lunch Break

Wrapping up my last day at work for a while...

My propensity to doodle on/in everything

Cheap knockoffs of *those* Tom Ford Sunglasses

Blue cotton dress from Pasadena City College flea market

Black patent loafers from Silverlake Farmers Market

Future Now

Some outfitty stuff I've been meaning to get off my phone for weeks now....

blouse from The Loved One shop in Pasadena, though I like to tell people it's from the future

Patriotic macaroons from Intelligentsia

Purse from King Richard's Antique Mall

Mexican embroidered skirt and thrifted shoes

I call this look the "Man Without a Country"

Winding Down

I think you should save money and not spend it all on fashion. Is that controversial? Save 10% of what you earn. Always. Pretend you never earned it. Because one day you’re going to want to buy a house to live in, and you can’t do that if you’ve spunked it all on not-so-cheap threads. I love that phrase ‘spunked it all’.

Save some money, because you work hard, and at the end of each year, you can look at that bank deposit and say “that’s what I have to show for it.” Fetishize over the balance as much as you do a new pair of Miu Mius. You deserve more than a pile of potential op-shop donations for your hard work. Don’t be fooled into thinking you need to buy clothes all the time. You don’t. People like me who talk about clothes all day do it for a job. Other people talk about bin collecting all day, or hedge funds, and you don’t fiendishly slave over what they’re saying. Maybe you do, let’s talk. You’re funny.

Buy once and buy well. Love clothes and enjoy them, but choose pieces that work for your body, you’ll go back to them year on year. Update with seasonal purchases here and there. Don’t panic buy and treat sales like brain surgery. Be precise, make only considered incisions into your wallet. Save money, buy a flat, but don’t worry about when it happens. Whenever you manage to land your own home, it will eventually make you money. And at that point, you can spend the extra on clothes.  (via)

I've been thinking about this quote a lot today, how the commodification of "fashion blogging" has put this immense pressure of professional stakes on what should be a positive outlet for expression. I've always been bad with money, always spent just a little too much on clothes at the expense of oh, say... paying bills on time, or filling up my gas tank. There's a lot of talk in the air about what fashion blogging has done to our sense of self; I realized that my mostly reckless-yet-always-enjoyable pursuit of clothes has become tainted with a sense of anxiety, even urgency. My style has always been a very natural extension of my personality, but lately the simple task of finding things to cover my body has been taking up a little bit too much of my mental energy, at the expense of the pursuits that truly make me happy (reading good books, going to museums, playing the ukulele, copping feels on my boyfriend) and that are in line with what I actually want to do with my life (writing, editing, becoming a video vixen).

Troubled by complexities of life, and by complex fruit

Earlier today I was making a mental list of what I could buy with my next paycheck, because I had actually forgotten that I'm having surgery this week. I was channeling my anxieties about surgery into buying stuff, and maybe that's okay–there are worse ways to channel negative energy–but the truth is I'm freaking scared, and it's troubling that I've found it so hard to express that, especially since I have such an open (some would say confessional) nature. Bloglife has become about putting your perfect, most innocuous self forward, but at best, my innocuous self is the one who remembers to not pick her nose in the car (I think tinted windows make me invisible). So look, I'm having surgery this week, and probably won't be feeling very cute for the next month or so, but I'll update as often as I can with stuff that makes me happy. There's lots. It's not very hard. I'd been freaking out over having a scar on my belly for the rest of my life, then I saw a photo of this sexy, scrappy chick on Terry's Diary and it made me happy. It made me feel better. Like life goes on. Like life is what happens while you're trying to blog.

At peace with fruit and life and myself

Catch you on the flipside, my damies....

Sticky Business

I found this little guy while waiting in line at my old community college, trying to wrangle some transcripts–what ingenuity boredom can breed! He kept me company at my doctor's appointment later that day, and also at the supermarket. Having to spend days off running errands and tending to the sundry business of life makes me a little bit depressed, but Gum Guy here cheered me up a bit.

(ed. note: I was going to title this post "Teeny Little Super Guy", but that's my exclusive nickname for Ronnie James Dio, God rest his soul).

Better Late Than

Pictures from Sterling's birthday dinner back in May that I snagged from Seth.





I'm probably telling what anyone else would call a terrible joke here. I get no respect.



The red suede sheath dress and ankle boots are both from Etsy. The sunglasses are cheapies that I now buy in lots from eBay, because I lose sunglasses so often (I'm already on the third pair of the batch). I remember thinking hey, my entire outfit is from Etsy. That's neat! Do you every feel that way, when you unwittingly step out of the house wearing head to toe __________?

King Richard's Antique Mall

This is one of my favorite places to be when I'm in Whittier. If I wasn't heading back to Oakland in August, I would have loaded up on things for the house!

sir...miss...

Babies have it right: sparkly things are wowie zowie the coolest shit in the whole world!

I was on the hunt for a practical, everyday purse. I almost convinced myself that this was it.

I ended up buying this knit purse, which I mistakenly described as "Yves Klein" blue to a graphic-designer friend who had knocked back a few.  I know it's a bit of a faux pas, and probably insult to color fetishists who make pilgrimages to Europe just to see Yves Klein blue with their own two eyes. Anyway, he really let me have it. I don't remember it too well. I had knocked back a few myself, on an empty stomach, no less. I vaguely recall something about Italy and piles of color swatches being monastically sorted and compared to original Yves Klein works and making a book out of it. You'd think I claimed to have a fur stole made from Sasquatch.

 I know it's not something you can just pluck from the ether, but if old ladies can (maybe) find Pollock's at garage sales, then someone's Nana can (maybe) knit an bag from IKB-colored thread found in the Irregulars bin at Michaels.

Let's just call it cerulean/cobalt/Jil Sander and go home.

Don't Believe That

Echo Park, 2010

Will Work for Work

West Hollywood, 2009

All the Eggs a Basket Could Hold

Looking forward to the fourth of July! I got a head start last weekend with a much-needed marathon chill-fest with my two favorite people, topped-off with hangover breakfast at my favorite greasy spoon. Look at those decorations!

margarita time, awkward monokini-bunching time

Elisa in her new killer Esther Williams suit

Scrabble Cheez-its changed my life

new kimono robe from Chinatown

don't worry - it will