Corsets: Too Slutty to Wear in Public?

I bought this Agent Provocateur corset a month ago and have yet to wear it. The thought was that it would be the perfect thing to wear with pencil skirts under cropped jackets, with jeans, basically anywhere and everywhere. Unfortunately, I drastically underestimated the slut factor associated with even the classiest of corsets. I had initially intended to channel an unusually awesome librarian but now fear that I've gone the route of the oh-so-predictable, borderline comical slutty book mistress.

The problem is the boobs. The girl in the picture, even with her over the top posing and obvious desperation to look fuckable, manages the corset by not having a chest to pour whorishly over the top.

My mind is not yet entirely made up on the matter and it's possible that I'll have stopped caring entirely by next week. Fingers crossed because that thing's pretty badass and I've always wanted to be catwoman.

Shoe Update

My Victoria's Secret spikey boots have finally arrived. As suspected, the smell upon opening the box was not entirely pleasant and the leather is a bit more rubbery than I'd like. They are, however, totally decent given their $98 price tag. So there, an update for my many readers. Well, an update for my mother.

Crappy, Logo-Covered Marc by Marc Totes to be Overshadowed by Crappy, Label-Heavy YSL Totes

Hipsters everywhere should prepare for the complete outdoing of their cheap-ass canvas logo totes from Marc by Marc. WWD says that YSL's version will be handed out free in "key fashion cities" (NY included, of course) starting on September 6th. WWD touted the promo as something of a second coming of christ-esque event, highlighting the fact that Stefano Pilati himself designed the bag. OMFG. Look at it for a moment though and it's apparent that the "designing" didn't really extend beyond flipping the pre-existing YSL logo upside down and making it enormous for easy spotting from a great distance. Though the black and white simplicity is certainly more chic than Marc's bags, whose saturation in the general vicinity of NYU borders on offensive, the whole thing still reeks of a particular variety of over-large label presence that I can't quite stand. On the bright side, now wannabe fashionistas will be just as easily identifiable as their plaid-covered, Bleecker Street counterparts.

I <3 The Hood

Whether shooting up some gangstas or slappin' a ho, it's just my thing. Kidding. The only kind of hood I really love is the sort that's enormous, reminiscent of the grim reaper and so often found practically swallowing my head weeks before the weather's even near appropriate for such swathing.

I bought a couple of the hugely hooded Norma Kamali for Everlast piece a year and a half ago and I'm wildly excited to see the likes of Giles Deacon and Haider Ackerman rolling out angel of death looks for this fall. Thanks to them, this year, the nearly overpowering urge to cloak myself is awesome rather than suspect. Perhaps there'll be less confusion about my Kamali things now. Finally the cocoon-esque sweatshirt cape that did such a great job of making me look like a druid in the library around finals time last year may receive some props. Perhaps even the black nylon, totally pimp coat from the same collection will be both feared and respected as opposed to just the former. The hood's easily large enough to hold multiple babies in so it's not like acknowledgment isn't due.

I Wish I Were Badass Enough To...

Dye my hair white. Not a very light shade of blonde. 'm talking arthritic knees, tons of cats, on the brink of death white.
To be honest, I'm not really a fan of hair dye. I've never done it myself and it seems like a hell of a lot of work when I could just as easily be doing something useful like napping. And yet I can't seem to get the idea out of my head. I predicting some photoshop time tonight...

Please Dress Less Obnoxiously

Fashion is a difficult thing to write about in that it is enormously subjective. For example, though I’m a huge fan of wide leg pants, nary a wearing goes by when someone doesn’t call me Gumby. Hilarious, I know. That said, certain sartorial statements can be judged and forbidden with complete objectivity. The warm weather seems to have lead to an upsetting resurgence of certain items of clothing that should never be worn outside of the hooker community.

1. Any t-shirt with a “witty” message detailing the merits of being a bitch. The thing is, though you think you’re being clever and sassy, you’re really just telling everyone who sees you not to bother talking to you because you’re a moron. The only things that go with “You say bitch like it’s a bad thing” t-shirts are fake boobs and an unfortunate obsession with “The Hills.”

2. Cropped shirts. I’m not talking about letting a sliver of skin peak out from above the waistband of your jeans. Though rarely the most attractive look, that amount of exposure is nearly unavoidable. When you start wearing t-shirts that could very well have come from Baby Gap, it becomes a problem. Unless you’re hot enough for what you’re wearing to be a mere after though (and you probably aren’t), there’s no need to have your entire stomach hanging out for the world to see. Furthermore, if you actually are that breathtakingly attractive (again, it’s unlikely that you are), you’d be doing yourself a service by wearing something more chic rather than looking suspiciously like a high-class prostitute.

I’m a huge believer in looking a little odd some days, in wearing a party dress and motorcycle boots to class and in not looking like a carbon copy of every other girl you see on the street. The line must be drawn somewhere though and that somewhere is within an inch or two of the top of your pants.

Better Than Miu Miu

I tried on these Miu Miu "Scrunchy Oxfords" a couple weeks ago only to find that they're a bit too, well, scrunchy. Unfortunately, minus the excessive scrunch, they're exactly what I want for fall: gray oxford-esque, not-quite-art-school-appropriate-but-still-artsy flats. So the quest began.

From Bergdorf's uptown to A.P.C. downtown and even Beacon's Closet in Brooklyn to risk foot aids in the form of vintage shoes, it was a pretty intense quest. If I were dorkier, I'd compare it in some way to Lord of the Rings.

Today, finally, I found them at Edon Manor in Tribeca. The gray of these Derek Lam beauties is slightly lighter than the charcoal I'd hoped for (and they look like a nasty mushroom color in the picture), but they lack the ever so offensive scrunch of their Miu Miu counterparts and are blessedly lace free. I hate laces that aren't merely decorative, too much work. Yeah, I'm that lazy sometimes.

Suck It, Tisci

I was reading the September issue of Bazaar-- Tyra Banks looking surprisingly un-crazy-faced on the cover-- and I came across Riccardo Tisci's multi-strand gold chain necklace for Givenchy. I had a black chain bracelet of the sort last spring but, having misplaced it (and literally every pair of socks I own) when I moved apartments last month, it feels like the right time to add some bulky chain jewelry to my closet.

That said, the Givenchy version is going for about $2,500 and that's just not happening. The search for alternatives, however, proved fairly disappointing, yielding a decent number of imitation possibilities but not a one that didn't look a bit thin and sickly. This one, for example, is the runt of the multi-strand chain necklace family and it's still $345.

So I was left with no choice, I stole the Givenchy version from Bergdorf's, hiding it under my dress and sweating all the way to the exit. Not really. I made my own. Definitely not that difficult.

Here's how it's done:
1. Go to Toho Shoji (990 Avenue of the Americas) to buy about 20 feet of chain. The silver sort that I ended up with was $1.20/foot, making it $24 for the lot of it. They had the same type in gold but it looked gawdy and I wasn't sure if I'd have to start carrying a gun and threatening to pop a cap in someone's ass if I wore it as a necklace.
Don't leave without also picking up a clasp, some circular things (pictured) whose official name I don't know and pliers/wire cutters.

2. Using your adorably colored wire cutters, cut the 20 feet of chain into smaller pieces. If cutting the wire is proving difficult, man up. I cut mine into 9 different pieces whose lengths I was too lazy to measure. One of them was longer than the rest, three were a little shorter and about the same length, and the other five were pretty scattered.

3. Using your pliers, pull open three of the bigger circular thingers and two of the small ones. Attach each piece of your clasp to a small one, then close the circle and attach it to a larger circle. From there, basically group your chain any way you like. Precision really doesn't matter.
For mine, I strung 7 strands onto one side with some ending on the other and some attaching to the third circular ring about 8 inches from the clasp (see picture).


Though it's admittedly not as cool as the Givenchy necklace in Bazaar, it's better by far than most of the other ones I found in my search. And, all in all, it cost less than $40. Suck it, Tisci.

Awesome Ad Campaigns Nearly Disguise Uselessness of Actual Tumi Products

Okay, so for the past two seasons, Tumi, purveyors of sturdy yet generally un-intersting luggage, handbags, briefcases, etc, has contracted the age-defyingly attractive Shalom Harlow to star in their ad campaigns. She looks badass, the clothes are legit and the retro feel of last spring's campaign was pretty cool. Almost cool enough, in fact, to divert the viewer's attention from the fact that the actual bags are entirely un-inventive and, in the case of the boxy lime green piece of uselessness above, by far the worst part of the ad. It's funny 'cause the bags are the only items in the shot actually made by Tumi. Oops.

Johnny Boy Grows Up

Disclaimer: I'm well aware of the fact that the fall couture shows were a while back and I'm behind the curve on this. The blog is new though. So there.
I'm a little bit too impressed by (read "obsessed" with) John Galliano's Dior Couture to leave it unmentioned. Ever a fan of impossible-to-wear, 5,000 yards of silk dresses parading down the runway on models made up to look like marionettes, John Galliano has been at the helm of countless Dior (couture in particular) shows that basically provide a shiny, luxurious spectacle with limited practical application. This year, not so much.
Though still shiny and gorgeous and exciting and awesome, Dior's fall couture '08 was much more than something fun to watch and later see in editorial spreads; it was actually wearable. And gorgeous. And Galliano's best show EVER.
Perhaps it's my penchant for all things wasp-waisted that's kept me thinking about the sophisticatedly updated old school silhouettes and Stephen Jones' accompanying, completely insane-in-the-good-way, hats. I really don't much care that I probably couldn't pull it off, the boy's a genius and I'll do what I have to to get one of them. Seriously, I'll do it. Let me know.
In any case, it's probably my favorite couture show ever. Testament to the truth in that statement is the fact that it's left me with what I'm told is a bothersome tendency towards forcing everyone I meet to check it out on Style.com. That said, you should check it out.

I'm A Bit Embarassed to Say...

That I just ordered shoes from Victoria's Secret.

Though clearly a take off of last year's Louboutin Ariella boots (of Olsen fame), I actually think these are better-- if less expensive-- looking. Aside from the fact that the pyramid studs are significantly more badass than the circular sort Louboutin used, they're also no quite so offensively numerous.

It looks good on paper (well, on screen) but let's see what happens when they arrive. I'm predicting an acrid plastic stench and the sort of stiffness you don't find when you spend $1,150 instead of $98.

The Difference Between Want and Need

It happens a few times a year and it's always excruciatingly painful. Accompanied by stomach cramps and fitful waking in the night, needing something you can't quite afford is a bitch of a thing. From the moment you spot it until you either find a way to buy it- food is less important at these times- enough time passes to dull the pain or you throw in the towel and pull out the razor blades, all is not well. Due to reasons entirely beyond my control (and by that I mean endless online browsing during particularly boring hours at work), I'm in the midst of the worst sort of clothing lust.
Check out the YSL dress and Louboutin bootes to the left and I think you'll understand why I'd be comfortable doing some potentially unforgivable things to have them. Unless you're one of those people who claims to have enough shoes, in which case you'll never understand. And you should leave.