How I Almost Broke My Face Today

I love wearing a new piece of clothing to work. If you are feeling down on yourself, go out, I don’t care if it is Bergdorf’s or Walmart, and buy yourself something shnazzy. For me, it gives me this false sense of power. Wearing a new piece of clothing makes me feel good about myself, or it should, and there is always a chance of people not knowing what you are wearing is new, therefore, unexpected, but pleasant, power trip. People will just think you have this air of confidence about you, but really you are just riding a new clothes high. You can’t get more fabulous than that.

So this weekend I bought a lovely Vivienne Tam, pleated, flowing maxi skirt, that was a bit too long, but I didn’t care … details, details. And guess what … it wasn’t black! GASP … I know. So purchasing said skirt made me ecstatic for two reasons: 1. I finally got to own something Vivienne Tam after I saw her show during fashion week. 2. I got it for a fantastic price (Loheman’s is God’s gift to woman.) It is a beautiful spring color, and, to be honest, if it is fun enough to twirl in, it is fun enough for me … which it was. I love the romantic idea behind a maxi skirt. The twirling aspect. The thought behind it that if I did have to run through a field of daisies after the love of my life, I would clearly have to hold up a side of it gracefully so I did not trip, hair flowing in the wind. You know … the usual day-to-day activities a woman does.

But just like in the movies, that romantic idea is nonsense. So I decided to wear my skirt to work today. This skirt has a ton of fabric to it, which is another reason why I have created a love affair with it. I wore it with a simple black t-shirt and flats to keep it casual, but like I said, the skirt is a bit too long if I’m not wearing heels. So walking to my car, fine. Walking into work, fine. Sitting in my chair at work and rolling to the computer … not fine. The bottom of my skirt immediately got caught under the wheels causing me to jerk forward. I mean hello, Monday morning, lost an hour of sleep, no caffeine in my blood stream yet. Really chair … really? But I untangled myself, stumbled a bit as I got up and marched myself to the land of caffeine.

Walking down the stairs to the kitchen was my favorite. I held the sides of my skirt gracefully, like I was about to curtsy, I mean it was glorious. So I did my morning ritual of going to get tea and made my way back up the stairs. One hand free to tend to skirt holding, one hand free for the scolding hot lemon tea. Even though I was holding one side of the skirt, the other side was still dangling … ready to kill me with every step up the stairs I took. I didn’t know what to do first, make sure I didn’t get burned by the scolding hot tea, make sure I didn’t face plant whilst walking up the stairs, or make sure when I finally said “screw it” and hiked my skirt up in an unattractive bunch that a co-worker wouldn’t get an awkward show first thing Monday morn. Instead, I took it slow and steady like a pirate with a peg leg up the stairs, trying not to burn myself, and trying not to step on too much skirt fabric, so it didn’t just slip right off, and praying to Jesus no one would see me acting a fool this early … I mean for the love of God.

By the time I got back to my desk, rolling over the fabric of my skirt yet AGAIN which caused me to jerk forward awkwardly, I had about enough of this nonsense and it was only 9:30 a.m. … if that. So to sum this story up, that scene took place about, oh, I don’t know, another 10 times throughout the day. The more I almost fell, but caught myself, or the more I hobbled up the stairs like a pirate, I couldn’t help but laugh. Yep I was that girl, hobbling, laughing, and falling up the stairs like I should be committed. Nice to meet you. Yeah so, my romantic idea of Audrey Hepburn holding up her flowing long skirt like a lady, turned into more like a toothless hag holding up her skirt in an unattractive bunch like she was stepping on grapes to make wine saying … “ELLO GOVNAHHHHHHH,” to passerby’s.

Lesson learned: I need to get that damn skirt hemmed, and quite frankly, romantic stories I make up in my head about clothing probably do not belong in a two-story office, okay? The funny thing is, I was so nervous to look at the bottom of my skirt for fear that it had been ripped to shreds with me falling all over it today, but to my dismay, it indeed stayed intact. I like to think while making this fabulous pleated skirt that Vivienne Tam said to herself, “hmm, some asshole girl is probably going to want to pretend that she is Cinderella whilst wearing it during everyday activities, but in reality she is going to fall … and fall a lot … and get really tangled in things. Let’s get the most durable fabric we can find team.” To that, I say thank you, Ms. Tam, thank you.

I’m High On Fashion Week

So yeah, apparently the devil owns my soul now because I literally just returned from the Vivienne Tam fashion show at Fashion Week in NYC. I am writing to you from my bed, completely exhausted, feet extremely sore, malnourished and parched … yet on the most fabulous kind of high … the one that only Mercedes Benz Fashion Week can create. It literally took a car, a train and a cab to get there … but somehow I made it … on time and everything … AND I didn’t get lost (for those of you who know me, that is really something special, let me tell you.)

So I apologize if none of this makes sense because I am blindly tired, but couldn’t wait to share with you my excursion. After what felt like trying to find a cab during rush hour, I landed one and somehow re-did my makeup and switched out of my flats and into my 4 inch Sam Edelmans, praying to Jesus I didn’t fall because, well that wouldn’t be very street stylish of me now would it. I wore all black, black skinnies, an oversized black tank, my Elizabeth and James black blazer and fierce, studded black heels with chunky gold jewelry. I was going for the “hey I’m chic, but I promise I’m not trying to act cooler than I am,” look. But don’t worry, whenever I saw the Street Style photogs, I tried to strike my best, “oh what, you are taking my picture? But I’m acting so natural right now with my hand on my hip, staring off into space beautifully,” pose … even though I probably looked like a kid in a candy shop with a side of awkward.

Besides the show itself, waiting for the show to start was my favorite part. The people. Jesus. Christ. If you ever need style inspiration, spend some time in the Fashion Week tents. It wasn’t unobtainable fashion at all. Sure there were the occasional women dipped in Chanel and Louboutin but for the most part, every woman I saw could have either pulled their look out of Barneys or Forever 21. Really innovative looks, but I gotta say … a lot of the ladies were rocking the red lip, dark dark hair and bangs … and I was kind of obsessed. I could never rock bangs, but I do enjoy the thought of them. I mean everywhere you looked it was a different style, truly fantastic … I could have stayed there for days watching all of this. Also, it is the one place in the universe where I don’t feel tall. Most women are 6 feet tall, with heels of course … and it is such a treat, you have no idea. The ladies I didn’t enjoy were the ones rocking the full sequin dresses … like why?

So walking into the tents was definitely one of those, “holy shit, I’m here” moments. Since I was solo I think I looked to the random man I was walking in with and made a comment like, “this is amazing” and he took a second to look up from his Blackberry like, “Ha, amateur.” But I got settled, tried to act like I wasn’t a 13-year-old girl about to see her favorite boy band … and finally the lights dimmed.

The show was gorgeous. Simple, but gorgeous. The models, well … couldn’t walk. From where I was sitting, their booties looked like they were MAYBE 4 inches … shouldn’t models know how to walk in 4 inch heels? I mean hell, I made it through Lincoln Center in a pair. The hair was long and disheveled … which I LOVE. It was straight half way and then the ends looked like they were teased to death. Plum was a huge color and a huge color throughout all of fashion week (more to come on this later). One of the most interesting styles I saw was a model wearing a snood, but her long hair was tucked into it in the back. You know when you put on a turtle neck or a high collar jacket and your hair is stuck and you have to fluff it back out? Yeah, she just didn’t. I oddly enough found it really interesting and innovative.

My favorite look was one that involved a pair of colorful cigarette pants with what looked like a wrap dress of some sorts (please excuse my description, I’m cracked out on fashion right now). I loved the dress over the jeans trend from back in the day … so if this is coming back I will be extremely pumped. From the simple gray runway and backdrop with the subdued colors on the runway that will be so warm and cozy for fall to the fabulous music, which I need on my iTunes playlist as soon as I can find it, it was extremely beautiful and well done.

So yeah, here I am, back to reality, not believing I just experienced all of that … but so beyond thankful that I did. I’m probably leaving out a million things, but again, I’m cracked out on fashion. I’m dedicating this post to my fabulous brother who made this happen so sporadically. And I apologize for the quality of the pictures, apparently iPhones don’t take action shots well, right? For the full sha-bang of pictures, check out Life Sucks In A Strapless Bra Tumbles, I will be posting either tonight or tomorrow.

Now excuse me while I go practice my model strut, I mean … sleep.