Obligatory Red Carpet Opinions

Last Sunday evening I was entranced by the television set…watching True Blood. Monday morning, I was a bit regretful for not watching the Emmy’s, but that regret immediately dissipated as I clicked through photos of supposedly best and worst dressed celebrities on the red carpet. What. A. Yawn Fest. Just bunches and bunches of bland, dreary, ill-fitting dresses. No vibrancy or creativity. Just boring. I was thrilled to learn that Claire Danes won for best actress after appearing in Temple Grandin, and while her performance was absolutely superb, I suspect another reason she may have been selected is the fact that she was one of few women wearing an interesting dress that wouldn’t bore viewers to death. And she has a really cute husband so I don’t doubt that the camera crew took the opportunity to jolt slumbering ladies awake with a riveting shot of Hugh Dancy applauding his talented wife.

So needless to say, Claire Danes gets my pick for best dressed. One hardly misses the fashion target when wearing Armani Privé.

Worst Dressed: Dianna Agron in Carolina Herrera. I never ever ever ever would have predicted in a million years that I would choose this actress wearing this designer as "worst dressed". But...I just don't know what to make of this Carolina Herrera creation. I normally adore Herrera, as she impeccably joins "pretty" with "tailored", but someone was drunk in Herrera's design house one evening because there's just no other excuse. Fortunately Dianna is young and has years to rectify this unfortunate mistake.

My I.D.K. Moment: January Jones in Versace. I lurve the shape this sculptured dress creates, and the color is striking. It’s the strange disk like material that’s throwing me off. I don’t know. Do I wear it or put it in my hard drive?

I’m Over Your Crap: Heidi Klum. I’m just over your crap. I normally love Marchesa dresses; they are nostalgic and whimsical. But look what you’ve done, Heidi. Marchesa for street walkers. Victoria Secret model street walker, who has like 22 kids. Would it kill you to find a hemline not directly below your lady parts? We get it. You’re on Project Runway. We’re supposed to believe you have as valid an opinion as Nina Garcia and Michael Kors because you prance down a catwalk in underwear. Alright, already! But we get to see enough of you plastered on inappropriate Victoria Secret ads in every flippin’ mall so can you keep it covered for one evening at a formal event.

This has been Sarabeth’s Obligatory Red Carpet Opinions.

Don’t forget, the next publication of Maroon Weekly hits stands tomorrow. Pick up a copy and visit us online at www.maroonweekly.com!

Cars, Calories, and Clothes.

Leave it to me to purchase a Suzuki and then move to Bryan/College Station less than two years later. “Wha’ Happened?” you ask “Fred Willard from Best in Show” style? No Suzuki dealership exists in B/CS, and when your car is supposedly still under warranty and your transmission arbitrarily chooses to work only now and then, you find yourself desperately seeking Suzuki.

So Saturday found B and me cautiously steering the Forenza haphazardly toward Houston while launching sarcastic quips at other cars. I never said that we were nice. I was content, though, to showcase my Fashion Forum Friday item of the week in Houston. Curtis and Rachel rescued us from our carless plight and chauffeured us to The Grotto for a calorie fest and then back to BCS for more calorie consumption at Church Street Barbeque.

Sunday, we got down and holy at church, and I became aware of some kind of telepathic fashion memo that must have gone out amongst me and my two friends, Jess and Max. Jess elatedly ran up to me as I scoped out potential church seats and exclaimed that we were both wearing Tiffany blue heels.

Oh, the endless joys of gorgeous shoes! And to be blessed with friends who partake in that joy! Jesus and Tiffany Blue shoes; what could be better!?! Well, I’ll tell you. Max entered the crowd gloriously modeling…wait for it…a Tiffany blue shirt! The stars had aligned and Christ, Himself, hath most certainly blessed our Sunday attire.

More calories awaited at our friends’ (Sam and Sarah) place. Sarah anticipates the arrival of their first baby any moment now, and as she must consume enough nourishment for two, and as we would never wish for her to feel insecure about that, we went ahead and ate more than her. Purely in an altruistic spirit. Church inspires you to be a better person like that.

And then followed my weekend’s pièce de résistance: Maroon Weekly’s photo shoot at Northgate Vintage! B and I chatted with Editor in Chief Chris Shepperd, as the photographer, Gabe, compiled artistic shots of NGV’s owner, Ryan Ewing, in the his natural element. My fashion/writing/being all swank and what not-type of elation reached its pinnacle as Ryan offered me even more assignments for Maroon Weekly. Not only shall I cover fashion, but I am free to write about music as well! This is excitingly ideal, as the two are nearly impossible for me to separate! Copious amounts of calories, Matching Tiffany blue shoes and shirts, and more writing assignments than I had hoped for…how can this weekend get any better!?!?!

It can’t. It’s over. Monday, the bane of weekend bliss, rears its ugly head along with students who seem to have forgotten that it’s ideal to actually register for fall courses before fall courses commence. As they say about all good things…I was never partial to that saying.

www.maroonweekly.com
fashionweekbcs.com

Fashion Forum Friday: Audience Participation Day!

Tomorrow afternoon shall find B and me in Houston, and boy howdy, am I excited about my fashion forum item of the week!

“Boy howdy”, ay? Yeah, I guess I talk like that now.

I’ve been waiting with baited breath ever since Monday to wear this shirt:

So remember when I told you to go shop at Northgate Vintage? Yes, well this proves that I follow my own advice and don’t just arbitrarily list demands for you to follow. I want you to look cool too. And I know exactly what you’re thinking, “I need to definitely look as cool as someone who writes ‘boy howdy’ in her blog, IMMEDIATELY!” I’m flattered that you feel this way.

And if you read my fashion column, which will premier in Maroon Weekly next Wednesday at local newsstands as well as www.maroonweekly.com, you’ll learn more about the clothing line Material from which this shirt hails. Sounds like you need to check that shiz out.

Did you ever think you’d see “boy howdy” and “shiz” joined together in one place? Yeah, well…there’s a reason Maroon Weekly hired me…clearly I’m a brilliant writer who isn’t scared to go there.

Now that I’ve officially stripped myself of any remaining coolness I may have possessed, it’s your turn to talk. Leave a comment below telling me what you’re excited about wearing this weekend! I loved loved loved…nay…lurved the feedback I got last week! Y’all are great so keep it coming!

www.maroonweekly.com

http://fashionweekbcs.com

Twitter: @maroonweekly, @fashionweekbcs, @sarabethlacy

I'm No Tool But I Love Tulle

I was browsing Etsy last night and discovered a dress that I need to be allowed to wear every day of my life, or at least variations of it.

I swoon for Monique Martinez’s designs and deeply mourn the fact that she resides in Arizona. I have a profound desire to run into the nearest Phoenix boutique that carries her line dubbed Ouma and twirl around in one of her gorgeous tulle confections singing “I Feel Pretty.” While I relish the day I found a chic, black pencil skirt that fit over my not-so-pencil-shaped lower half, the little girl in me that loved hoop skirts, parasols, and pink satin toe shoes my never grow up. But I don’t think I want her to. Twirling around in layers of gauzy fabric singing “I Feel Pretty” keeps one sane.

But Ms. Martinez has done a commendable job in making this potentially adolescent look very polished and mature. The striped Parisian tank top and T-strap ballet flats bring class and sophistication to the whimsical skirt. Seriously, why can’t I look like this every day? “Love” doesn’t adequately describe my sincere ardor for the Cirque Party Dress. Lurve…I Lurve it! Check out her online boutique at http://www.etsy.com/shop/ouma

Speaking of lurving things, I’ve submitted my first column to Maroon Weekly for editing, and things seem to be running along smoothly, and I lurve it. The first publication of the fall semester already hit stands this week so pick up a copy, and also visit www.maroonweekly.com for even more news on B/CS culture.

Spreading the Lurve: Don’t forget about BCS Fashion Week! It’s quickly approaching,and I can’t wait to begin the official blog! You can check out the schedule and more info at http://fashionweekbcs.com/.

Twitter Lurve: Show us all some lurve by following us on Twitter. @maroonweekly, @fashionweekbcs.com, and @sarabethlacy.

Lurve ya!

Stop What You’re Doing. I’ve Just Been Handed an Urgent and Horrifying News Story!

I kid! It’s not horrifying, but it’s most certainly urgent. (Did you like my Anchorman line? It’s best if you imagine Ron Burgundy’s voice reading this blog to you.)

My first journalistic endeavor in fashion has led me to this conclusion: You need to be shopping at Northgate Vintage, and if you read my column in Maroon Weekly, which will hit stands September 1st, you will find out why…in detail. Seriously, though, just go over there and buy stuff. Owner Ryan Ewing has put a lot of thought into his collection of clothes and music. Vintage clothes and records await your perusal. If you live in B/CS, go! Now! If you don’t live in B/CS….I don’t want to hear your excuses, Winey McWinerson. Just go!

I’m concerned that a bit (read: MAJOR!) of info may not make it into the column, though, so I’m going to use the blog as a sounding board. Oh, the joys of writing one’s own blog. You can do whatever you want! Seriously, though, pay attention. Ryan’s creative shop is fueled not only by retro adornments, but by music as well. He wants to host singer/songwriters and bands at the store every first Thursday of the month, and the first musical event will be September 2nd.
Wait a minute! Did I just say September 2nd?!? By Jove! That’s the day after the next publication of Maroon Weekly, which will feature my column about Northgate Vintage, will hit the stands.

Sounds to me like people need to take advantage of this providential occasion and pick up a copy of Maroon Weekly on their way to Northgate Vintage’s musical extravaganza on September 2nd. Why would you not?
You need more reasons? Then you’re like the most demanding reader of a blog ever! Lucky for you I have another reason that should pretty much seal the deal. I’m working on getting a certain B. Lacy out there to astound the crowd with his melodic concoctions.

Sold it! See you out there.

Tormented by T-Shirts Tuesday

After an eventful morning of advising (read: telling them I can't help them because it's too late in the registration period and Admissions is their only hope) the remaining dregs of Blinn Team students, I've finally found my way back from the Texas A&M campus and to the dismal realization that little time for proper blog entry is available. I have been challenged with brevity. Let me assure you, though, after several hours of wearing my "beefy" t-shirt, I'm naively hopeful that none shall ever again get their Hanes on me. I mean let's be honest. Will I ever look as cool as this guy?

I'm embarrassed to even be trying.

Morose Monday

I’ve officially plummeted back down to Earth after riding my Friday Afternoon High all the way to Sunday evening. My buzz immediately dissipated as my discourteous alarm clock reminded me of the following things:

1) School starts today so I need to leave the house at least 5 minutes earlier than to which I’m accustomed in order to eschew any school zone delays. 5 MINUTES! Big deal in my book!
2) My careless weekend diet of junk has resulted in the need to wear black pants and loose dresses for the rest of the week until I can kick my butt into gear and shrink back down to a less lumpy shape.
3) I have to advise students, and by “advise” I mean that I have to actually talk to them.
4) I’m tired…like…exhausted. Could sleep right now. Would prefer to write only in fragmented sentences.
5) My “Friday Fashion Forum” item of the week (pink converse) mockingly left a blister on my left heel.

Because my list of conundrums might appear mild to my readers, let me remind us of the main point to this blog and perhaps even evoke some true dismay. If fashion and the perpetuation of aesthetically pleasing appearances prove paramount to the followers of my (tiresome?) blogging, then brace yourselves for the next cause of my Monday misery.

I have to wear a Blinn Team t-shirt to A&M tomorrow!

My good friend Charity put a lot of thought into the graphic design on the t-shirt, and with that I take no issue. In fact, kudos to Charity. It’s great!

….But…I don’t wear Hanes Beefy t-shirts…ever. EVER! Why must they exist in a professional arena? Can’t we look like a “team” of advisors by dressing like adults and not the students we’re advising? UGH! And we’re not even given the luxury of pairing our Beefy t-shirts with jeans. Nope! I have to incongruously wear this poor example of a top with black trousers. Why would you ever encourage a professional to match a bright blue, beefy t-shirt with black trousers? It’s devastating! And “Beefy”! Really?! Why would I ever be inspired to wear an article of clothing that exhibits similar qualities as meat? I don’t want to look “Beefy”. EVER!

It’s just a fashion travesty, and I resent having it forced upon me. I will be carrying clothing reinforcements and plans to change as soon as I’m allowed to look presentable again. Then I shall retire this poor cotton blend, which never asked to be woven into this embarrassing display, to my “clean the house” wardrobe.
Until then, I shall look to Wednesday, as it holds hope for a brighter fashion future.

Fashion Forum Friday: Audience Participation Day! Seriously, Participate!

You know how really hip, experienced bloggers have designated features for either Wednesdays or Fridays with clever names? Here’s mine minus the hipocity and cleverocity. (I reserve the right to manufacture new words at any given time, as I took a semester of linguistics my senior year of college. So, I’m like a linguist.)

As Thursday evening draws to a close, my excitement is always piqued by the anticipation of Blinn’s denim Friday and my well rested weekend wear. Typically, one item will stand out in my mind and foster my excitement, and I begin to plan strategic outfits showcasing said item. As Zoe would say, “It’s major.” It’s part of my weekend joy. Endorphins are released into my system when I picture it. The item changes every weekend.

What am I excited about this weekend?

I’ve finally capitulated to the siren song of the pink converse. As I’ve said before, I often just want to wear heels, but sometimes a pair of shoes possesses such potent character that they could be -3 inches (I kid, I kid!) and still make a statement. One of my favorite fashion statements is to sport brightly colored footwear because they essentially match with nothing, and therefore, can almost go with anything. Heed that “almost”, there.

If you do run out and pick up a pair of vibrantly colorful shoes, please don’t coordinate your entire ensemble using the same matchy matchy color. Matchy matchiness is the death of youthfulness. Shoes and accessories needn’t match your ensemble; they need to “go” with your ensemble. This concept will change your life, Ladies, regardless of your age group.

Audience Participation: What are you excited about wearing this weekend? Or what do you wish you could wear this weekend? Leave a comment and let me know. I promise I won’t steal any ideas and show up to the same event as you dressed as you…or will I? If we’re going to try to make this fashion relationship work, we’re going to have to start inspiring one another. Let me and everyone else know what item is delivering your fashion zen this weekend!

Fauxhawk = No Hawk!

In the Lacy household, it’s all or nothing. When we decide to do something, we put everything we’ve got into it, and we expect no less from our dogs. “Bella. Tallulah. We’re in it to win it. If you can’t stand the heat, get out of the kitchen. 2nd place is 1st loser. You’ll embarrass us if you fail.” Of course, these are all absurd things to say to our dogs, but we’re practicing for when we have kids. But they cock their heads to the side, which I think denotes a clear understanding.

I believe in a similar fashion mantra: If you’re going to wear something, wear the heck out of it. If you’re confident, you’ll look good. Unless you’re confidently wearing overalls, in which case you just look like you’ve been misinformed by this motivational poster gone rogue.

This also applies to hair. Not overalls. Overalls should never apply to anything save agriculture. But my mantra applies. Be confident in your hair decisions. If you want to keep it sleek and simple, bravo! If you want to go big, go big or go home. (Can someone provide me with more motivational clichés? I seem to have depleted my supply.)

So how proud was I when Tallulah decided to trade in her everyday, tired poodle do for something a bit more bold? Or to put it another way, how proud was I when B took Tallulah to the groomer and gave them explicit instructions on how to cut her hair?

No fauxhawks here, no sir! As far as we’re concerned, fauxhawks are no hawks. If you’ve never met a mohawked poodle, you’ve never lived. Although, mind yourself should you wander around Snowy Brook Trail. We're concerned that Tallulah may have formed a street gang as a result of her new aggressive coiffure. Apparently, she takes no prisoners.

Forever 21 Even When I'm 36

So you know that scene in the more recent version of The Women where Sylvia (Annette Bening) chastises Edie’s (Debra Messing) daughter for stridently declaring that she hates Saks 5th Avenue in the throws a of a adolescent outburst? In case you missed out, here’s a quick recap:

Edie’s 5-year-old (or so) daughter is visibly bored while following her mother and two other ladies through the handbag department. Her request to purchase what appears to be a lovely Jimmy Choo purse is brutally rebuffed…well not so brutal…but I could commiserate with the kid. Anyhow, upon the slighting of her appeal, she shouts (with due cause, I think), “I hate this store!” Sylvia coolly turns, bends down to meet the girl’s eyes, and calmly states, “Nobody hates Saks.” An important lesson every girl must learn.

Equally important is this lesson: “Many cannot afford Saks.” Present company included. Marital budgeting has only fostered Saks’ illustrious, unattainable ranks in my eyes. While I was not racking up credit card debt in my single days and did maintain a respectable savings account, I rarely turned down the opportunity to purchase a “reasonably” priced item from Saks. Or Nordstrom’s. Or Macy’s. Or (and this one is my personal favorite) Neiman Marcus! Did you see a ray of light burst through the clouds accompanied by angels singing right when I said Neiman Marcus? Yeah, it’s that good. It’s beginning to make sense why God moved me to Bryan/College Station after getting married; He was removing insurmountable temptation. No Saks, Nordstrom, or (sniff) Neiman’s around here. But the Lord gives and takes away, and as reparation for the Great Neiman’s Loss of 2009, He ensured that I was equipped with a very large Forever 21. I have had to learn to say the following phrase without dropping my head in shame: “I am, in fact, a bit older than 21, (a bit! a bit!) and I imagine that I’ll only continue to grow older than 21, but I don’t foresee a future in which I do not shop at Forever 21. Hence the ‘Forever’, right?” Along with the whole “not being 21” thing, I’ve also begun to realize that the bottom half of my body will most likely continue to grow larger than the pants and skirts available at Forever 21…not that it necessarily fit well when I was 21…those things are SMALL!

Regardless of these two strikes against the seemingly adolescent store, it does offer an array of fashion forward clothes at a super reasonable price. Granted, the price often reflects the quality, but I’ll admit to still owning a few shirts and sweaters from the store that are a couple of years old now and don’t appear to be weathered. In fact, I’ve managed to find a few pieces that actually look tailored. Here’s the thing: if you’re looking for a simple, cute cotton sweater and you can buy it for $10 at one store or $40 at another…I’m no mathematician or accountant here, but I’m going with $10. I’m not encouraging those of us over 21 to supply an entire wardrobe with selections from Forever 21. Please, don’t. We all need to invest in quality pieces such as jeans, trousers, coats, and so on that will stand the test of time. If at the last minute, though, you find yourself in desperate need of a party top, statement accessory, or staple sweater, I wouldn’t discourage you from checking out Forever 21. You’ll probably bump into me there as I'm sorting throuth the piles of "merchandised" clothing searching for this...

To Tweet, Perchance to Dream

How strange is this entity we call the Interweb? That is what the kids call it, right? Well, B calls it that, anyways, but I suppose it is better known as the Internet. The days of face to face resume submission hath long but passed, and one must rely upon electronic networking to further develop a social life as well as a career. For a social introvert such as I, it often proves convenient to simply type up some personal info, click submit, and (Tah Dah!) I’ve applied to a job or made a new friend. Often, though, this impersonal application leaves me feeling disconnected and overwhelmed by the amount of “activity” going on out there in cyberspace. How does one break into a new and exciting field? What if I want to do more than just advise students? How do I network myself into, well, a different network? What if I want to write words that will actually be read by individuals other than me, B, or my mom? Where do I even begin to look in this vast parallel dimension? Who am I?! Where am I?! What am I doing here?! And then I recover from my panic attack.

Truthfully, though, such is the state in which I’ve existed over the past few weeks. Although my break through with B/CS Fashion Week still has me kvelling, it also has left me asking, “Then what?” I want to keep writing in a public forum, and I have no connections, and I can’t just walk into The Eagle or another local publication and say, “Hi, I have no experience other than blogging. Can I write about fashion for you?” because they would look at me like I’m crazy and ask why on Earth I didn’t apply online like a normal person would, and in turn I would have to explain that I’m not a normal person but in fact an abnormal person with a penchant for panicky run on sentences and how would they ever know that unless I “networked” myself in person? Either way, I don’t think I’m getting the job.

So I’ve come to this conclusion: That’s why God created Twitter. For the longest time I’ve been trying to understand the point of Twitter. People can learn enough about my thoughts and opinions by A) Talking to me or B) Reading whatever absurd thought I’ve typed into the space entitled “What’s on Your Mind” on Facebook. Surely my friends don’t need my ponderings reiterated via Twitter? Well, they don’t, but as of yesterday I’ve discovered that Twitter is, perhaps, the best networking tools available. My blog is automatically syndicated on Twitter whenever I submit a new post, and much to my surprise, people actually read it. People I don’t know. Well, at least one person I don’t know. Fortunately, this unknown individual is the Editor in Chief of Maroon Weekly, Chris Shepperd. Somehow, he possessed the ability to see beyond the reckless sprawling of my words and felt that I would be successful at writing a fashion column. And he just offered it to me. Just like that. Would you like a fashion column? You would?! Well, here you go. It was more or less like that. He can either see past the reckless sprawling or is secretly involved in a cruel social experiment involving a loony, insipid writer and the public’s reaction to her renderings. Either way, I’m so on board.

I have a fashion column! Huzzah! Hooray! I may achieve tangible evidence that someone thought I wasn’t totally off my rocker in my endeavors! Yay! Validation!

You will find me in Maroon Weekly’s second publication, as the first has already gone to the “edit and print” people. Still, pick up a copy and enjoy, and I’ll be working on a more professional (I’m still the one writing it so…you know… “professional”) fashion column for your consideration.

And don't panic, Blinn Students...my Beloveds, you can still see me for advising Monday-Friday from 8am to 5pm. I'm not going anywhere.

http://maroonweekly.com/

Scott Pilgrim Vs. My Blog's Supposed Point

I do realize that less than two weeks ago I waxed poetic in regards to clothes, shoes, and Rachel Zoe, and this is no circumvention of these pressing issues. My sporadic nature in writing must never reflect my clothing convictions, but….I really need to talk about Scott Pilgrim Vs. The World.

Today’s first suggestion: Go see it! Like, now! I don’t care if you can only find a pair of Crocs to throw on as you race out the door. I’ll allot you this one exception because you just really need to go see this movie as soon as humanly possible. I am wondering, though, why on God’s green Earth you still own a pair of Crocs to grab after the countless discussions we’ve had and the admonishments with which I’ve gifted you. Never mind, just go! I’ll wait.

2 hours later

Commencement of Excitedly Inane, Incoherent Dialogue: (At this point I take no responsibility for grammar. You have been warned) Did you LOVE IT! I knew you would! The dialogue was all over the place. Sort of rapidly reserved without being pretentious. And the Smashing Pumpkins/Seinfeld/Anime/Mortal Kombat references along with a billion others! Awesomeness! And you did not have to “get” the references in order to appreciate them entirely. Like, I’m not a Seinfeld fan. Look, Larry David is hysterical and all, but Seinfeld just wears me out. But the scene where Michael Cera is running around the apartment like Kramer with the music and laugh tracks appropriately queued is hysterical. It’s also awkward and uncanny because you’ve been launched from an "indie romance x Sailor Moon " sort of ambiance into primetime comedy. Two Words: In-Genius. You’re right; that’s one word. And the music was fresh and innovative without being all in your face like, “Hey, I’m young people’s music, and I have to be esoteric, unintelligible, and unpalatable in order to feel that my profound, young person-type thoughts are appropriately validated.” Not at all! The musicians totally delivered innovative, dynamic tracks without being stymied by one particular genre. And THANK YOU, Michael Cera! THANK YOU, Jason Schwartman! A resounding THANK YOU to director, Edgar Wright, and the rest of the cast! But particularly to Michael Cera and Jason Schwartzman for fighting the good and fight and constantly rebuffing roles in films such as American Pie, Step Up, American Pie 2, Dude Where’s My Car, What Happens in Vegas, American Wedding…this list could go on for while. Instead, you’ve brought us films like Rushmore, Paper Heart, Marie Antoinette, Youth in Revolt, Shopgirl, and Arrested Development (yes, the film is happening!). Michael, we’ll forget about that whole Year One…thing. I can see how you thought it would be funny….wait, Reader, have you not actually seen Scott Pilgrim vs. The World, yet? Then why are you reading this?! My thoughts probably seem totally vapid and nonsensical. Go see it, and then come back and read this. It will totally make sense then.

Appropriate, Coherent, and Shortened Review: Scott Pilgrim vs. The World is a delightfully engaging film filled with whim and nostalgia. Imaginative cinematography enchants the eye, as an eclectic soundtrack provides a collective appeal. Michael Cera effortlessly entertains with his trademarked awkward, vulnerable, yet endearing banter and avoids character stagnation by delivering a new and effective characteristic: Anger. Each cast member successfully personifies a unique character with a finely tuned wit but without distracting from the lead. In Living Color’s ‘Men on Film’ would give SPVTW two snaps in a “z” formation. Please patronize this film.

For Those Concerned with Fashion: All of the clothes are really cool. Go see it.

Oh, and a big shout out to Satya Bhabha for his portrayal as Matthew Patel. Wow!

In the Line of Fire: When Fashion Harms Others

Many of us abide by the beauty rule “no pain, no gain” and may, at times, allow for a certain amount of personal discomfort all for the sake of fabulousness. But when does this healthy desire to put one’s best foot forward develop into an unwholesome obsession? Perhaps we’ve crossed the line once we’ve endangered our friends and loved ones.

A few months before our first anniversary, B generously took advantage of a rare opportunity, which under normal circumstances would never have presented itself (at least not with our budget), and gifted me with an extraordinary art deco anniversary ring. My elation upon receiving the stunning bauble easily carried on past our actual anniversary date, and I imagine it will only continue on for years to come. Little did B know, though, that my joy would cost him much more than any monetary value…

Anyone well acquainted with B knows that he is not the least hairy of men in existence. My side of the family endearingly jokes that he could shave and then re-grow a beard in approximately two hours; he does not always find such jests to be endearing. Regardless, the man has some hair. Even now I question, who is to blame? The ring? The hair? Last night, not a moment before we both yielded to a peaceful, nocturnal slumber, I gingerly reached for him in an innocent attempt to bestow a goodnight kiss. The immediate events that took place after this loving gesture remain fairly blurred in my mind. All I know for certain is this. When I pulled my left hand back from his chest, I sensed a slight tension followed by a distinct POP! B cried out in pain, and I instantly realized what cruel joke fate had played upon my poor husband. One of the prongs on my sparkling anniversary ring entangled itself in a strand of hair and wrenched it from his chest! He reached for the light in order to examine the site of the potential wound. Much to our relief, any visible scars were minimal, but the emotional scars…they may never fully heal. To escalate the already present trauma, my ring proudly boasted of its prize, as wedged tightly between the rock and the prong was B’s blond chest hair. He quietly removed the retired strand and returned the ring to my finger. His stoic demeanor belied the storm of emotions raging inside.

As upset as I am with my ring’s flippant, nay, violent behavior toward my husband, I am afraid I cannot bear to part with it. Perhaps I am no better than Gollum, but it is precious to me. Perhaps Smeagol also possessed a healthy respect for all things fashionable and slowly surrendered to Gollum, as his obsession crossed all healthy boundaries. Perhaps I had better halt any further Lord of the Rings references before I lose all of my readers.

Heed this cautionary tale, and scrutinize your own position on fashion. Consider the strength of your personal relationships, as very few can buffet the attacks of bejeweled accessories.

Kat Von D is BCBG?

A tattoo: a most dubiously fantastic and personal fashion statement. When I love them, I love them wholly. As a result, I currently have two. When I hate them, I hate them wholly. As a result, I currently only have two. The desire to again go under the needle does not elude me, mind you, but such decisions have lasting image implications. I love the two that I have for all of the right reasons. My husband had a hand in designing both. They are profound symbols of my faith in Christ: A lily on the right side of my lower back (Matthew 5:28-30)

And a dove on my forearm (Matthew 3:16).

Looks a little dark and red...just after a touch up.

Lastly, they embody personal aesthetics I have loved my entire life. They have become a part of me, not a distraction from me. I have several concepts for a potential third, and often these ideas excite me so much, it’s all I can do to restrain myself from dialing up my artist and penciling in my next appointment. I’ve made a conscious decision to wait, though. I think it prudent to take a few years to see how my body reacts to both child bearing and gravity. I’m often struck with exasperation, though, when I consider how oxymoronic a prudent tattoo is.

What a lovely segue into my next thought.

If I don’t want my body to be covered in “imprudent” tattoos, why is Kat Von D slowly morphing into (in my mind’s eye) a bastion of “bon chic, bon genre” fashion appeal? She serves as a rare example of someone who, I think, looks fabulous as well as someone, whom I do not wish to emulate. And I mean RARE. If I watch Breakfast at Tiffany’s one evening, I’ll want to sport an elaborate updo, a sliming black dress, and pointy black heels along with an opera length cigarette holder hanging from my mouth the very next day. Likewise, you’ll find me wearing jewel tones, black boots, and a cropped, chin-length bob the day after watching Le Fabuleux Destin d'Amélie Poulain. I am perpetually inspired by fashion in film as well as other forms of media. When I envision myself covered from head to toe in tats whilst modeling a string bikini top at work…I also envision myself unemployed. I then try to imagine taking this look on the road and perhaps exhibiting it at family reunions. How would my conservative (to say the least), would-be-baptist-but-got-offended-and-decided-to-become-Episcopalian-but-should-just-get-it-over-with-and-convert-to-Catholicism Grandmother and her relatives feel about “the look”? Well, imagining those priceless reactions actually does not inhibit my interest in honing “the look”. But let us reconsider B’s side of the family. What do you think Church of Christ’s stance on Kat Von D and those who cultivate similar exteriors is? Not so much? That consideration is a bit more inhibiting. Alas, my own, long-enduring knowledge of my ultimate image-contentment acts as the greatest deterrent. I simply would not be content to be covered with ink, although I witness daily those who are, and I love to be surprised by some of the beauty conjured up by amazing artists.

A third tattoo in the future: a reverberating “perhaps”. But I’m totally gonna keep dying my hair red. Especially after LA Ink’s season premiere last night. Fo’ Sho’.

The Woes of a Long Torso

After visiting Dallas this past weekend, I've returned with only one regret. I have an unfortunately long torso. For that I should be grateful, as it's the only reason I have any height. My leg inseam is that of an 8-year-old child. Still I am often met with disappointment when trying on a one piece vintage bathing suit. Then I remember that I’m trying on a bathing suit, and the disappointment all but dissipates. Not only is the buoyant lycra pulled taut across my entire upper body, but the rest of my body is protruding outwardly in an uncovered and unflattering manner. I shall live another day even without this vintage one piece bathing suit in my life.

But there still exists one article of clothing over which I may forever lament. The Jumper.

Initially I found the reemergence of this styling of the 70s fairly disconcerting, and I think it may be due to Tyra Banks’ unfortunate attempt at an 80s version of The Jumper as witnessed at least twice on America’s Next Top Model. The Jumper must never be approached in such a capricious manner. The Jumper must be respected and well thought out, or else one may meet an end result such as this:

(Insert panicked scream here)
Quick, obtain some eye drops and lubricate your poor sockets! Allow them a few moments to rest and refocus after being subjected to such a terrifying shock. Better now? Okay, so let me reassure you that The Jumper can actually look flattering…unfortunately, not on every body type. As cute as it can be on the correct body type, it’s unfortunately not universal like the color corral. Before donning The Jumper, one must be honest with one’s self. How proportionate are you? I think this factor is key. If you are, while sadly I am not, you may have to opportunity to appear as such this:

Or such as:

Or such as:

You see, there’s no need to abuse The Jumper, as demonstrated by Ms. Banks. With love, reverence, and correct proportion, The Jumper can freely exist in its own special aesthetic. Please join me in the fight against The Jumper Abuse. Disallow the Disproportionate!

This is Sick and I am Sick

My entry today is brief, which might be inspiration to actually read it.

Gretchen Jones is a sick designer, and by "sick", I mean urban dictionary's definition of "sick". Fricka Frackin Awesome!

I am sick, and by "sick", I mean that I'm currently dying.

Hope I feel better and more fashionably constructive tomorrow. At least I can "die" with Rachel Zoe in less than two hours.

We Here in Aggieland Like Fashion Too!

This Friday morning is a great Friday morning! One would assume all the greatness is due to the three day weekend it heralds (for me!), and one would be correct. Alas, I have even greater news about which to be excited: Bryan/College Station Fashion Week. More specifically: Me blogging about Bryan/College Station Fashion Week. Particularly: Me being the Official blogger for Bryan/College Station Fashion Week. Yes! Fortune hath smiled upon my fledgling blog and offered it an opportunity to grow up into a big girl blog! At least, that’s my hope.

And how did this fortuitous occasion come about, you ask? After I spotted an ad for the event, I immediately emailed Ms. Paige Melvin, Owner and CEO of Engage PR & Marketing and producer of B/CS Fashion Week, to learn what volunteer opportunities existed. In turn she inquired as to how I would like to be involved so I explained my desire to develop a blog devoted mainly to fashion concepts and offered to showcase the events and designers participating in Fashion Week. Not only did she welcome the idea, she upped the ante by asking if I would write THE blog detailing Fashion Week…like…all official and stuff. Naturally my response was a casual “no, thank you”, and by a casual “no, thank you” I mean a resounding “YES!!!! ABSOLUTELY!!!”

What does this mean for my little baby blog? Hopefully it means growth! Paige and I have decided that I shall post my blog entries regarding Fashion Week on her company’s website. In the mean time, I’ll be attempting to develop “Misadventures”, and I’ve already called in reinforcements because I know very little (nothing) about all of this fancy pants blog designing. I write. That’s my creation. Up to this point, I’ve relied on templates and am overwhelmed by the amount of “blog design” knowledge others seem to possess. Enter: Rachel Lacy. My Sister-in-Law (and Queen of all Blogdom, in my opinion) has kindly agreed to assist me in the creation of something more stylishly mature. I’m thrilled to have her artistic expertise involved in the future development of my blog and can’t wait to see what our collaboration produces…or what she just tells me to do.

So direct all of your friends (and yourself) here for future information regarding B/CS Fashion Week as well as my own misadventures in discussing fashion design and concepts…mixed with more than enough of my own personal opinions ;-)

You can discover more about Fashion week by visiting the following pages:

http://fashionweekbcs.com/
www.Facebook.com/FashionWeekBCS

And follow both of us on Twitter! @SarabethLacy and @FashionWeekBCS

You can also enjoy the wit of Rachel Lacy at:

http://followinginmyshoes.com/


B, the pups, and I are headed to Big D for the weekend so I’ll catch up with everyone on Monday!

Have a great weekend, and remember what we've learned this week: Don’t wear Crocs or Toms, but if you must, choose Toms.

A Noble Cause. An Unfortunate Design.

Did I mention that I love high heels? ‘Cause I’m not certain if I made it very clear in yesterday’s post. While I love love love high heels, I find it necessary to don an occasional flat, and many find it necessary to don a daily flat. On whichever side of the fence you fall, it’s of no fashionable concern to me, as a multitude of chic, comfortable flats exists. Also, I’m from Texas so I understand the need for a respectable flip flop collection. I am partial to Old Navy’s metallic flip flop.

Having said that, two instances do exist in which all foot esthetics are needlessly dismissed and my fashion senses are offended on various levels. Two Words: Crocs. Toms.



Crocs: Do I really have to explain? I think they speak for themselves as to why they are the bane of every foot’s existence.
(I realize the stance I’m taking is a bold one, as many members of my family do love “the Crocs”. I imagine other individuals reading this might possess a similar infatuation with the odious brand and a desire to refute my staunch opinion. My rebuttal: Just stop it! Stop wearing Crocs…I mean, the name alone…jeez. If you’re wearing them, I expect to see you in your garden. Otherwise, just stop it!)



Toms: Now this brand is not as easy to pick on, the main reason being that they’re not named “Crocs”. Secondly, the company’s mission is certainly a noble one. For every pair of Toms sold, the company donates a new pair of shoes to a child in need. Many children in developing countries do not own even one pair of shoes and are vulnerable to injury as well as disease. A child without a pair of shoes may not even be able to attend school, as it may be a required part of a uniform. What a wonderful perpetuation of generosity and aid to others in need, and what a perfect motivation to purchase a certain brand. Here’s my question, though. Why do they have to look like they look? They appear to be flat and awkwardly fashioned espadrilles. It sorta looks like you draped a piece of loose, dull canvas over your toes and then stapled it into a straw, foot-shaped bottom. I can abide the wedges the company has started to produce, but I shan’t be caught in them.

Upon visiting the website earlier today, I was struck with wonder and dread, mainly dread, when I saw an advertisement for new Toms wedding shoes. Oh, Lord Baby Jesus. The one day of all days that a girl should not be caught in unflattering flats. Imagine a white Ked. Nay, a Ked that at one point in its primary school existence was white. You probably owned at least one pair in 3rd grade. Now imagine wearing that same pair of whitish, grayish, dirty-ish Keds…to… your…WEDDING! Let’s take a moment of silence to consider the implications of this decision. Apparently, a golden metallic pair is also available for the fancier Toms bride. Still flat. Still awkwardly fashioned. Still unflattering Toms. Just golden metallic so as to draw more attention to your pitiable foot that never asked for such treatment.
In conclusion, my advice to you is never to wear ugly flats.

If you must, though, please choose Toms over Crocs. You may falter in your footwear choices, but your humanitarian impact will be worth it.

Or you could go with something more like this!

Inspiration, Thy Name is Clothing

Okay, I think I’ve got it. Bear with me because this is a burgeoning idea, and I’m not certain how successful my execution will be. Originally, the foremost point of this blog was to examine “The Plan” and to also depict my many muck-ups while trying to decipher said plan. You know, The Plan, i.e. Great Big, Really Interesting, Totally Cool blueprint that God has designed and predestined for me and over which he has enjoyed many a laugh fest due to my often inaccurate deciphering. Yes, you remembered. After watching The Rachel Zoe Project last night and sensing a strong desire to flip through a Vogue and shout “Bananas!” and “I. Die.” while pointing at ensembles that j’adore, I realized that I would love nothing more than to be a stylist or clothing critic, if you will. (Yes, I realize I possess no true qualifications.) Therefore, in an effort to bring some relevance to this incoherent, mess of a blog, I believe I shall begin to offer my totally unsolicited fashion opinions….because I can…it’s my blog. I think the title of the blog still fits, though. I mean, we all have embarrassing photos that were the shameful results of dubious misadventures in ensemble planning. Ideally, I’d like the entries to bear relevance and daily application for us normal, everyday people, but I don’t think I’ll be able to resist editorial haute couture. Whatever. I’m doing it. It will be what it will be. Maybe it will be interesting. Maybe not. I’m going to shoot for daily entries, but I’m fearful this may be a lofty goal so I’ll go as far as to guarantee weekly entries.

In recognition of my latest muse, Ms. Zoe, I believe it necessary to immediately discuss shoes. I realized that she was truly a woman after my own heart as I watched her being spirited across sand by a male assistant due to her refusal to part ways with her gorgeous, 10 mile-high, black boots in order to trek across the beach to a Harper’s Bazaar photo shoot. What God has joined together, let no terrain put asunder. “I don’t even own a pair of flats”, Rachel declared confidently, which immediately brought to mind an article I once read about Victoria Beckham. I already know what you’re thinking. “Oh, Sarabeth, you’re getting way too profound for me, what with all this talk of celebrities like Posh Spice.” Nonetheless, I remember her admitting that, yes, sometimes high heels can hurt. One’s feet do get tired…but…she doesn’t care. She feels more comfortable in heels than in flats. This is a hard concept to relay to those who bemoan any type of foot discomfort as if it were the plague. And, yes, I understand if you don’t want to wear heels, and I also understand if you are legitimately uncomfortable. Don’t wear heels if you don’t want to. Great flats exist in this world. But let the record state that I’ve experienced just as much foot discomfort in flats as I have in heals. All I’m saying is, “Rachel. Victoria. Stacy London. I totally get it.” Let us laud Louboutin and pray that the good Lord allows him many more successful years in making women’s feet prettier one pair at a time.

So much for practical application...