fitting room confessionals

Snapped in Express. I’ve always had my eye on their collection of bandage skirts simply for their incredible array of color selection (because I’d obviously pick up anything besides neutrals…) and the heavy weight of their knit. I hate how women’s clothing are so flimsy these days, things go into the wash a few times and come out disintegrated. What happened to affordable, good quality clothing?

But as usual, I digress. Couldn’t resist trying this number on as it instantly brought to mind something Matthew Williamson meets Tim Burton. How so, you ask? Not quite sure – perhaps the strong graphic and slightly psychedelic arrangement is to blame for the description. Trust, it made sense in my head.

Pulled over my turtleneck and paired with the suede ankle boots from my original outfit – so perfect. The skirt, unfortunately, did nothing for my waistline or derriere.

Le sigh.

.   .   .

x

versace x h&m

Versace tops as one of my favorite design houses of all time, for many reasons. It’s no wonder, then, that I was floored when news of a Versace x H&M collection was to hit select stores in November 2011.

Perhaps floored isn’t the right word – yes, I was excited at the prospects of the democratization of fashion. Versace was catering towards a more mainstream demographic (for plebs like myself), crossing lines in the process. And while collaborations between large, consumer corporations and luxury designers aren’t unusual – I do believe Target popularized the concept – this was different. There’s a distinct socioeconomic hierarchy in the so-called “fashion world,” and mobility isn’t exactly easy. Take a look at the layout of your local mall – note how the Charlotte Russe’s and Sear’s are grouped within the same wing, and how Nordstrom and Sephora are closer in vicinity. Then compare malls in different districts; Nordstrom is high-end in one city, whereas in another Bergdorf’s and Neiman’s are considered true luxury.

But I digress – my point is this: H&M may be an affordable, mainstream retailer, but unlike Target, it’s a fashion retailer. A respected one – unlike the more notorious Forever 21 – at that. Credibility is instilled. Marketing efforts are geared towards a niche crowd and therefore more effective. Which, inevitably, means that campouts and infinite lines were to be expected at its release.

I didn’t think my local H&M would carry the collection, but lo’ and behold, they did. Pricy, yes, but brilliant in quality – far better than I had expected. And one month later, there were actually items left. It was all very true to the luxury design house’s aesthetics. Unapologetic, sexy, a throwback to their eighties’ vision. (I loathe all things eighties, but I make an exception for Versace.) While they weren’t necessarily the ones I secretly had my heart set upon (namely a studded leather trench and coral gown Jessica Rabbit would wear if dressed by Donnatella!), but a round of dress-up in the fitting room never hurt the soul.

And by round, I mean just one, solitary piece. The only left in my size was a bustier – fate, I tell you.

I’d show you pictures, but I’d rather not have such scandalous pictures of myself up and about the Internet; I think my mother (and any potential bosses) might have a heart attack. I’d rather not be held liable for any impending deaths, thankyouverymuch. But let’s be frank: black heels (of any variety) + black skinnies + corset top = a simple and beautiful equation for evenings out.

I’ll show you pictures where appropriate one day. When you’re older.

.   .   .

x

P.S.: I didn’t actually buy it. It was well over $$$, not in my budget. But the few minutes I spent twirling around in my 4 x 5 fitting room were well worth it.

what i wore: the winter uniform, all black with red lips

I find outfit snaps irrelevant to ABC, for a few reasons; one of which being that I wear the same thing all the time. I define it as personal style, and enjoy it quite well, but I’m also the girl who could be perfectly content with a large cup of coffee (two shots of espresso, s’il vous plait) and a good book on a Friday night. I guarantee you that the rest of the world will find whatever I consider endearing to be… boring. C’est la vie. But because some ladies so kindly asked for a look of the day, I obliged:

all black: turtleneck sweater, skinny jeans, favorite (everyday) lace-up ankle boots, Calvin Klein purse

.   .   .

It’s not so much that I feel “safe” in black, per se, but more so that I feel comfortable in it. It’s understated, classic, and doesn’t overwhelm me when I’m out and about. I’d much rather let myself do the talking than my clothes in any case.

Needless to say, I’ve always had a penchant for all-black ensembles. Since I was little, my idols consisted entirely of the femme fatales and Bond girls and Catwoman characters who were clad in black head-to-toe, be it a tank-and-skinnies combo or full-on bodysuit. It’s so provocative yet demure!I’ve always found such outfits to be a bit much (given my age); once I was out of high school, however, I took advantage of my newfound freedom (in dress) in toying around with all-black looks. Since then, variations of the above are all I’m to be found in. Going monochromatic is quite practical too – dressing in the morning becomes incredulously easy, especially when I’m toggling back and forth between early mornings, classes, mid-day Pilates, more classes, and dance until midnight on a daily basis. So reliable, so effortless, so very me.

No makeup, just red lips and nails because I was feeling particularly festive. (My camera picks up the lipstick as orange-toned, but it’s quite the true, bright red.)

.   .   .

x

on high-waisted hotpants, hips & vanity sizing…

My latest acquisition:The high-waisted shortie from American Eagle, behold!

They’re hard to come by these days, the high-waisted denim short(-shorts). It’s almost ridiculous that these are my first pair given my fondness for all things high-waisted – I’m all about emphasizing the waist and elongating the legs – and sixties/seventies fashion.

But you know me and my problem with finding things that fit my hips and waist and my incessant need to find the best deal possible on things. Incidentally, the above shorts were on sale at $19.99 and fit pretty decently – there’s still that inevitable gap around my waistline but it does make tucking in little tanks slightly easier. Chouette! When I’m not at work I plan on living in these babies, all summer long.

Here’s the thing. I am not a size two. There’s no way, c’est impossible! This vanity sizing that America has undergone is absurd and completely backwards. Are we appeasing women by telling them a little white lie? Let’s be honest with ourselves, please. My measurements are that of a true size 4-6. A size 26 waist was once considered big, and still is outside of the U.S. Does it make me feel better knowing I can fit into a size 2? Eh. When I’m feeling particularly delicate, yes. I can’t deny that. However, what of the tiny girls? What size would they wear? It’s incredulous, really, and it makes online shopping most inconvenient.

N’importe quoi. I should just be happy that I finally found a new basic to add to my summertime repertoire.

.   .   .

xx

the demise of hips & a love affair with a swedish retailer

Part II of the H&M fitting room confessional series, because I’m having a love affair with the Swedish retailer at the moment. As is my wallet. And when the both of us are happy, well, it’s a good thing to say the least.

These were the things tried on, half of which were bought and the remaining went back to their proper places on the racks. It’s a picture like this that brings to light my quirky little shopping habits; i.e.: I shop always with a theme – typically a style and color palette – in mind. And while the majority of these fit like a dream, I have this policy where I never buy everything I want. Instead, pick your favorite two or three of the bunch. It will help curb spending and hone in on truly defining your personal style.

Black, shades of blush and dusty peaches, grey. All very neutral and remind me of all things fifties, seventies, French and Brigitte Bardot meets Lolita. The first little blouse was très mignon – imagine it with platform mules and skinny, light-washed denim and Bardot pigtails! – but was less than perfect in fit (I prefer a bit of modesty, no midriffs out, please and thank you). The ruched, black skirt was also gorgeous on, and while it fit everywhere else, it hung too loose for comfort at my waist. It was the only one left, which almost made me bring it home with me, but again – if something is less than perfect, leave it! Save the money for something that fits you like a glove.

Another gorgeous skirt, in theory. A demurely body-conscious, high-waisted skirt in a perfect camel. (I imagined a turtleneck sweater tucked in and hair pulled back in a Bardot bouffant.) But here’s the clincher: the waistline fits like a dream, but everything else it too tight. One zip up the derrière and it went from the ultimate daytime skirt to one more appropriate for prowling the night.

What a shame. The moral of the story? Try everything on; everyone’s body type is different.

(And an aside: we’ve killed the hourglass, and replaced it with an “average” figure. My mother’s clothes – vintage dresses and pencil skirts and all things lovely – fit beautifully; what happened to the womanly silhouette? I do believe the stylish Diana put my thoughts in words rather well, here.)

. . .

bises! x