Blogging is a Trip to Narnia

"Alas," breathed the young blogger sadly, "Alas!"

It had been a few long weeks of disillusionment, weeks of saying goodbye to friends as they embarked for colleges across the country while the young blogger stayed home to spend a year taking classes at a community college before becoming a collegiate student herself. She felt her usual why-would-I-be-on-Facebook-when-I-could-be-fashion-blogging attitude dissolve for a time in a frenzied clatter of typos and abbreviations and online chatting. She saw her free time disintegrate as her to-do list became longer and longer. She could taste the cool fall breeze whispering beneath the summer wind, a guerrilla slipping into enemy territory with plans for a coup. And she could almost smell the freshly-sharpened pencils, hear the clatter of notebooks and lectures, that signified the end of the season.

And so her blog posts dwindled.

But not for long.

A sudden urge to write about herself as if her life was a storybook struck, and so she channeled the urge into explaining her situation to her readers, gently assuring them that she had by no means given up on the blog.

And so she turned back to her book, Surfing on the Internet by J.C. Herz, found a quote that explained a great part of why the internet had captured her attention so deeply that she found herself missing her normal blog-to-blog interaction, and posted it for her readers.

"I. . . start thinking about this thing that buzzes around the entire world, through our phone lines, all day and all night long. It's right under our noses, and it's invisible. It's like Narnia, or Magritte, or Star Trek, an entire goddamned world. Except it doesn't physically exist. It's just the collective consciousness of however many people are on it.

"This really is outstandingly weird.

"This absolutely blows my mind." -- J.C. Herz

She Writes Again

Hi everyone! Sorry for the blogging hiatus - I'm back from my trip now and finally have the long-awaited opportunity to curl up with my laptop and type away.

I'm suffering from too-much-to-write-about syndrome when it comes to updating you all on my trip so instead of dedicating my time to covering the Met's superheroes exhibit, which you can read about elsewhere, I'll stick to something a little more off the beaten path.

My Aunt and I had been talking about checking out Jackson Heights in NYC for ages, so Wednesday afternoon found us in driving into Queens with my Uncle and the friendly GPS device, Manuela.


I've never seen anyplace like it.

Where the Chinatowns and Little Italy's I've been to in the past have been catered toward tourists, Jackson Heights is truly meant for the locals. As I stepped from the car, I was greeted by a bustling city street. The faint scents of curry and coriander filled the air, joined in some places by the sweet aroma of crispy golden pakoras. Turbaned men leaned against the windows of restaurants, while burqa-clad women examined the jack fruit and peppers that glistened greenly in grocery bins lined up on the sidewalk. But for many, the true treasures lay in the clothing shops where a dazzling array of saris, salwar kameez, and intricate jewelry welcomed the perusal of both the older women bound by tradition and the younger women searching for bridal and special occasion wear. My aunt and I shopped there too, sifting through racks of long skirts, bejewelled tunics, and embroidered tops.

I let two shop owners talk me into buying from them - purchases will be modeled for you later with the help of the tripod my mom just dug up for me. (Yay tripod!)

It was a joy to examine the goods, but I also found contact with the people there to be fascinating. I ducked into one store after climbing a sketchy flight of stairs and walking through a narrow hallway, planning to spend a little time admiring fancy dresses. A beautiful Indian girl smiled at my Aunt and me, eventually remarking that the saris would look fantastic with our pale skin. I laughed. "Well, I've always wished my skin looked like yours!" I told her. I was met by a noise of disbelief.

"But I'm so black," she told me, lamenting her skin color. Her tawny brown fingers lightly pinched my arm to demonstrate the pink flush that she wished herself capable of. But looking at that perfect, smooth golden tan, I could not understand.

Concepts of beauty are funny, aren't they?

We ended our day with a new appreciation for New York. After all, it is a special city that allows you to visit a whole different country in a manner of minutes. Only there can a luxurious splurge on Fifth Ave change to a foray into pickle barrels and Jewish delis on the Lower East Side, to a stroll in the lush greenery of Central Park, to an exotic trip to India via Jackson Heights. A subway ride, a step around the corner, and you're somewhere completely new.

I want to live there some day.

Hello, Hello

Hi, my wee lovely lovelies!

I forgot to mention that I'll be away this week, although I should be able to keep posting.

I'm incredibly excited for Sunday - I'm finally making a pilgrimage to the Met to feast my eyes on the superheros exhibit! I've been dying to see it for some time now. I've always loved the Met, but the addition of Gaultier and Galliano make me want to pull a Claudia (from The Mixed Up Files of Mrs. Basil E. Frankweiler. . . Did anyone else read that as a kid?) and live among the manequins and pieces of art.

Am also considering attending the Fashion 2.0 meetup in NYC later in the week. I can never make it to an of the meetups, seeing as I don't live in NYC, but I'll be staying nearby-ish and it might just work out. Anyone else going?

Other news: I'm not sure if I''m supposed to tell you guys this, but I can't imagine why not, so I'll just go out and say it. I had a meeting with the Boston editor of Daily Candy on Wednesday, and it seems like I'll be writing a few fashion articles for them! Eeep! I've been subscribing to D.C. forever, so it's an understatement to say I'm a bit excited. Hence the bragging/ gloating (sorry about that...)

Holy Crap

Alexander McQueen for Target?! Could it be?

Let us all bow down together and pray. And then put on pretty dresses and jump around for joy!

Oh wait, I've already done that . . .

News like this reminds me why I should try to stay more up-to-date on what's going on in the fashion world.

A Mall Incident

Scene: My friend and I stride up to the entryway of Gilly Hicks in the local mall. A group of sales assistants stand uneasily before us, their expressions a curious mixture of amusement and panic.

A sales assistant clears her throat as we try to move forward and says, "You might not want to go in there."

We pause, confused, and wait for her to explain.

"We have a . . . situation," she continues. "There's a bat in the store, and we can't get rid of it."

Her coworkers giggle nervously. My friend shrugs and starts to enter the store, but my arm snakes out to grab her back as I remember the warnings my younger self was given while camping. "We'll come back later," I tell her, feeling like a bit of a wimp. We make a hasty retreat.

Hmm. I never liked the layout of Gilly Hicks, but it never occurred to me that the dark, claustrophobic atmosphere would be perfect for a little night critter. Or maybe the bat just had an urge to nest among the lingerie?

Oh, suburbia. We have such a love-hate relationship.

Solestruck

I think I might be a bad person.

Solestruck.com gifted me a gorgeous pair of shoes a few weeks ago, and after receiving them, oohing and aahing, and spending some quality time prancing around the house and sticking my feet out for others to admire, I promptly forgot to post about them. Whoops!

Am currently remedying the situation.

Check out these lovelies:

These heels by Faryl Robin have a vintage-y, whimsical feel that I really love. They're quite different from the rest of my shoe collection, which tends to be black and slightly punk-ish (think combat boots and studded gladiators), but I can hardly be expected to stick with one aesthetic when there are so many shoes out there! And all right, so walking is a bit of a challenge as my balance is pretty bad in flat shoes, but hey, I like to live dangerously. They're not the comfiest things in the world either, but they're so pretty I don't care. I blame my weirdly shaped feet.

I picked these shoes out from the hundreds of options offered on Solestruck.com, and I'll have you know it was not an easy choice. It was a dizzying experience; it's cliche, but I felt kind of like a kid in a candy store. The selection there is extensive, and much cheaper than you would think. Very reasonable, actually. And the shipping was so fast! I'm a fan - and not just 'cause they gave me free shoes.

The Torn Identity

Street Style photos from Garance Dore and Style Sightings. Runway photos from Style.com. All other sources are linked to below.

Torn jeans are hardly unusual. In fact, I'm wearing a pair with rips at the knees right now. I know that in the past, hole-y clothing was considered a sign of poverty, but these days it's much more of a norm. I don't feel comfortable wearing ripped jeans to a nice restaraunt or party, but for every day I even like the look.

Quick semi-related joke: Why did the rabbi get wet? Because his umbrella was hole-y! Har, har.

Back to the point - I'm used to jeans with the knees worn out, with frayed hems and threadbare bums (well, to a point). I wear 'em til they're no longer serviceable, and then out they go. But one thing I'm not used to is the kind of jeans that we saw on a recent Maison Martin Margiela runway (See above on the top right, second from left on the bottom). With decisively tattered legs, these creations barely cover more than a pair of shorts. They look like someone ran them through the paper shredder, and while they intrigue me, I'm not such a fan. For now.

But a toned down version of the look? That's something I could really get to like. The Urban Collection jeans (worn by the red-haired model above) are slightly less ripped up, and as usual, the styling is impeccable. I find the torn black jeans worn almost as leggings to be quite appealing. The Rick Owens leggings (top left) are also pretty sweet.

Mr. Margiela may have had the idea, but I'm sure you could come up with something a lot nicer and way cheaper on your own by taking a pair of scissors to some old skinny jeans. From the examples above, I've decided I prefer black jeans (which I don't actually own) for the project, but I think any color would do very nicely. Also, tighter jeans look pretty good, and the jeans work just fine when cropped, even if I prefer them long. Also, should I get my act together and actually find some jeans to work with, I plan to wear them under dresses and tunics. I will carry a fake squirt gun and call the look "The Torn Identity." Tee hee. Oh, puns. You know you love it.

Thoughts? Ideas? Puns to share? Bring 'em on!

You Know You've Got a Problem When....

. . . You dream that the Alice & Olivia for Payless Fall line is in stores, and then find yourself disappointed when it looks nothing like you thought it would.

Until you realize that those semi-transparent blue Doc-like boots in your dream look freaking amazing.

And then find yourself disappointed when you wake up and it wasn't real.

Dammit.