The Carrie Bradshaw Rule of Fashion

worst5When you put on something and think to yourself, “am I too old to wear this,” it’s probably one of the most fucked up moments of life … especially if you just turned 30 like I did. Because when did I get to the point in my life when I thought I was too old for ANYTHING

For me, it was when I threw on a black choker. You know … like the ones all the Jenners and Hadids are rocking (sign number one), and the ones I wore in the early-90s? I took one look in the mirror and immediately saw myself as Josie Grosie from Never Been Kissed, pretending to fit in with all the “rad” high school girls … terribly.

Like thinking about the fact that I could potentially wear the same outfits as my 14-year-old niece honestly makes me physically ill. For me AND for her.

But I didn’t take it off. Nope. I kept that sucker on. Mostly because I was mad at myself for even thinking something like that (pshh I’m timeless :::hair flip::: also, where is my Retinol eye cream?), and because I live life by the “Carrie Bradshaw Rule of Fashion.”

What is the Carrie Bradshaw Rule of Fashion you say? Well gather ’round kids. It’s time for a Life Sucks In A Strapless Bra lesson on life. 

Carrie Bradshaw was not some 20-something frolicking around NYC in her Jimmy Choos. Oh no. That bitch was in her 30s for most of Sex and the City (I feel like people overlook that fact). Which is SO refreshing, because now I feel like all we see are 20-somethings living off their parents money and seeing how they can out-hipster one another whilst “figuring it all out” :::cough cough GIRLS cough::: 

Carrie, Miranda, Samantha, Charlotte … all in their 30s during Sex and the City. Which oddly makes me feel so much better about what I have going on and not going on in my life right now.

So back to the Carrie Bradshaw Rule of Fashion … she had no rules. She made up the rules as she went. 

She wore shit like this:


Oh and did we forget about this:


And HELLO … the Cafeteria look where she met the comic book dude!?


Did she look in the mirror and say, “hmm am I too mature to rock a belt around my middriff?” “I wonder if my 14-year-old niece and her friends are wearing the same thing?” NO. She didn’t give a shit. She made it her own, and made it work. Age was never a factor in her outfits. They were fun, creative, and expressed who she was as a person. And dammit, isn’t that what style is all about?

Chokers are fleeting fashion … I know that for a fact. But right now they fit into my style aesthetic. Will I go around rocking mom jeans and white Adidas Shell Toes? Well that is something that just does not fit into my style profile … sorry Hadid- and Jenner-lookalikes. 

So next time you think you’re too old to rock something, rely on the Carrie Bradshaw Rule of Fashion. As long as you aren’t rocking ties over t-shirts a-la Avril Lavigne … I think we are good. Because that shit is never okay.

We … Got … You BACK!

songI mean is everyone else still recovering after hearing the AMAZING news of N’SYNC reuniting AND performing at the VMA’s this weekend?! My 13-year-old self is squealing with joy, while my 26-year-old professional self is keeping the squeal inside and instead secretly trying to remember the sweet dance moves to “Bye, Bye, Bye.” It’s funny … I can’t remember what I did yesterday, but I CAN sing every single lyric of “Digital Get Down” … but I digress …

Right now I would like to time travel back to the year 2000. A time when I was freshly 13. A time when I rocked braces AND a palette expander (hawt). And I time when I was 110% positive that I was going to be Mrs. Kate Elizabeth Timberlake.

I attended two N’SYNC concerts, and both times were pure ecstasy. I literally have a photo album (what up, old lady), of really horrifying pictures of little dots that were N’SYNC from my disposable camera (yep, I’m SUPER old) with even more horrifying captions next to them. I wasn’t one of those girls that screamed until they were hoarse during the concert. Oh no … I sat there, next to my best friend, held her hand, and cried. CRIED. Except that one time when he totally pointed at me during “This I Promise You,” I cried AND screamed. I mean … I still get the chills thinking about it (psyche).

So before attending my first concert, I was convinced that somehow I would get to go backstage and meet Justin, so I needed to look like, PERFECT, because clearly we were going to fall in love instantaneously, right?! To explain my 13-year-old style in the year 2000, I was secretly obsessed with Carrie Bradshaw. Even though I was definitely not allowed to watch the show, I saw her in other places and died for her. So, in essence, she was my style idol. So I tried to make her edgy and fabulous style happen … at the Gap … since … welp, that is where my mom took me to shop … cool.

So enjoy my top 3 highlights of the style I rocked at my very first N’SYNC concert, ahem:

1. I talked my mom into letting me get my hair professionally straightened for the concert. My hair was really short and, due to sweet sweet puberty, an insanely kinky, curly disaster area. If I tried to straighten it, I would have a horrific afro. So I needed my hair dresser at the time, who was known for making my hair “Asian straight,” to make me glamorous. At the time it took them 2 1/2 hours to get my hair perfectly straight … and it was worth every agonizing moment.

2. Remember crystal tattoos? Oh yeah … I also made my mother go on a massive hunt for these bad boys because I HAD to wear one to the concert. That would totally bring Justin to the yard. Oh yeah … and I’m pretty sure it was in the shape of a butterfly … :::rolling eyes:::

3. I was rocking a sweet palette expander AND braces. For those of you who don’t know what that is, it is a rather large piece of metal that goes on the roof of your mouth and every night it had to be turned with a key to “expander your palette.” It was a painful nightmare and made me talk funny. So thank Jesus I didn’t actually meet Justin because it would have sounded something like, “OH EM GSSHHEE, JUUSSHHTIN, I JUSSHHTH LUGGE YOU!” I like to think he would have still married me, though.

Woof. So there you have it. Even though it makes me cringe a bit … it brings back fond memories of me standing in front of my TV waiting patiently for Carson Daly to play an N’SYNC video so I could learn all the dance moves. And yes, my plan is to get my girlfriends together on Sunday night so we can drink wine and keep our fingers crossed that everyone, besides Justin Timberlake isn’t a fat, overweight loser now … mainly Chris Kirkpatrick.

What is your favorite N’SYNC moment?

What Up, Bag Ladies?

img-thingSo that bag to the left? It’s simple, chic, cute, “sporty”, dependable … and officially the biggest pain in my ass … no no I’m sorry … my right shoulder.

I traded in my car keys for life on the train as a commuter about two whole months ago. I was used to sitting in my car for an hour, firing through radio stations, singing to myself, sometimes talking to myself, and cursing out other idiot drivers. All activities I could no longer partake in. So what does one do whilst riding said train? I can’t just stare out the window … I need stuff! Lots and lots o’ STUFF! And “stuff” can’t just live in my quaint across the body purse that is lovely for summer, now can it? NO! I need yet another bag. Yep … I’ve become that girl. The girl that walks around with her purse … AND  the “other bag”. The other bag where all the “stuff” lives.

Maybe it was because I was used to throwing my life in my car. If I needed to change into flats … there was most definitely two different pairs in there waiting for me. If I needed a cardigan … no worries, the question was did I want blue, black, or a patterned version? But now … I was all by my lonesome. And because of that I adopted this tote. This evil, evil tote.

I had big plans for said tote. I was going to fill it with fantastically interesting books (yes, I’m old-fashioned … I don’t believe in all that e-reader, iPad bullshit), an umbrella, hand sanitizer, magazines, a note pad in case I felt like writing “old school”, bottles of water … you know everything I thought a gal riding the train needed to keep her entertained. Riiiiggghht.

Listen, I won’t hold you in suspense any longer … because I know you are standing on your chair right now screaming, hands waving violently like, “for the LOVE OF JESUS … WHAT DO YOU HAVE IN YOUR DAMN TOTE!?” Welp, kids … this devil bag has become a part of me for some reason. Kind of like my comfort blanket on the train, in a sense. I have no reasoning behind it, I just need to have it with me, alright! Lay off, man! Okay, I suppose maybe I feel like it makes me look “official” or like I’m actually going to work and not just grabbing brunch with my besties Carrie Bradshaw-styley. I just need to be carrying something … and I made that something this tote crafted by Satan.

But the other day I realized I hadn’t ACTUALLY used my tote in a really long time. Meaning I hadn’t put anything in it or taken anything out of it. So why was it so damn heavy, and what the eff did I have in there? When I looked … I frightened myself a little. Like uttered the words, “dear God,” and took a step back.

So I will hold you in suspense no more. Right now … in the bag that I carry on the train and off day after day … here is what you would find inside of it (side tid bit: this is the first time I’m actually rummaging through it as well … so yeah … enjoy the ride, kids)

-A close to 300 page book … that I finished over a month ago

– A print out of questions for an interview I conducted with a woman … close to a month ago … that I no longer need … or want … or have use for … Jesus …

-An umbrella (that I put in there today only because I got stranded under an over hang on the street last week and learned my damn lesson)

-A plastic Walgreens bag … with nothing inside of it but a receipt … really?

-Good God … my old broken wallet … that is broken … and old … and literally has nothing inside of it besides like an old insurance card or two … what are the kids saying these days “SMH”? “SHM”? Oh … you get it.

-A take out menu for a sushi place around the corner from where I live (never know when hunger could strike, am I right?!)

-Oh boy … :::cough::: a take out menu for a really awesome pizza place around the corner from where I live … yowza

-2 bucks … now THAT is what I’m talking about!

-An empty Stila lip gloss … RIP, I adored that color … hmmm note to self, visit Sephora tomorrow … I’ll write that on my … oh wait … note pad I never got

-2 things of peanut butter crackers that are practically dust by now … ew

-An empty chap stick … what is wrong with me?

-2 very old magazines that I was using for research that have since fallen apart in my bag … so technically this should be written as “parts” of a magazine

-An oversized decorative flower pin (think Carrie Bradshaw) … I got creative whilst accessorizing one morning and decided it was a bad idea by the time I made it to the train

-One tampon …

-A receipt from Walgreens … yes, different from the plastic bag … I love me some Walgreens

-A train card that is identical to my actual train card except has negative $1.14 on it (don’t even ask me how that happens) and MY train card has money on it (or so I hope, at least)

I need a moment of silence :::::bows head in shame::::::

Sigh. I don’t have words for myself. After I found the second takeout menu my self-respect level plummeted. In conclusion … I legit have absolutely no reason to be carrying around this tote. And to top it off … I HATE having to carry around 2 bags. I get so confused. Are my sunglasses in my purse or in bag number 2, is my chinese takeout menu in my tote or in my wallet? I mean for the love of Jesus … why am I doing this to myself?!

But alas, I shall continue to dream of the day when I can afford a Birkin or Celine bag … or some lovely, rich, delicious leather tote that can hold my entire life. Now if you will excuse me I have to go shame myself and light fire to this stupid bag devil that has allowed me to carry around ridiculous amounts of crap with me.

Where Has All The Cou-ture Gone …

So I’ve been on a bit of a Sex and the City kick recently. Maybe it is because if you have the E! Channel or the Style Channel you are bound to stumble upon a marathon. Or perhaps I watch it because I praise the church of Carrie Bradshaw and pray that she will give me a sign. Or perhaps it is because I adore the fashion. Or perhaps it is because I don’t have to watch it with the volume turned down to like one so my mom wouldn’t hear it (like back in the eighth grade days … good times). Who the hell knows.

But I had a thought as I found myself, for the millionth time, drooling over her fake closet that was clearly too small to hold all of that goodness. Where the hell did all the clothes go? The show ended in what, 2004? Sarah Jessica Parker has moved on to making extremely bad movies. The other three well … I think I saw one in a commercial for something or other a couple of months ago. But all of that couture, Dior, Jimmy Choo, Chanel, YSL … when the set faded to black and Carrie’s fake brownstone apartment got broken up into a million tiny pieces … what happened to the clothes?

I was watching an episode during the Adien part deux years and saw her walking down the street with a great Dior bag. Years later, a lot of years later as a matter of fact, and that bag is still fantastic. But for the love of God, I really want to know where that bag is now. Did some lucky production assistant get to take it home? Does SJP have it or one of those other broads? Perhaps Patricia Field has a shrine to the Sex and the City days and keeps it there safe and protected. Or did the unspeakable happen. Did it get tossed away for a better day? It pains me to think these thoughts.

See, when I’m done with clothing … I throw them in a trash bag and donate them. Then again, my clothes aren’t couture. I pretend but alas … they are not. I could never fathom throwing couture into a trash bag and donating it. Then again, people who have couture probably dispose of it in a classier way then in a Hefty trash bag. Perhaps because I can’t afford couture and the thought of how much I would have to work and save to invest in a piece only to donate it for free would send chills trickling down my spin. It might sound shallow … but I mean come on. It is a dog eat dog world out there.

I mean the “Hello Lover,” Louboutins that I think made Loubs Loubs. The Oscar de la Renta pink dress from The Russian, the Chanel jacket she made Adien swear on when she told him about Miranda being pregnant, Carrie’s fur coat from the beginning of it all… I know I may sound redundant here … but seriously, what the hell happened to it all? Dorothy’s ruby slippers are in the Smithsonian for Christ’s sake … are the Loubs there as well?

Listen, as annoying as it may be to watch Carrie Bradshaw lead this ridiculously unrealistic lifestyle, the show is iconic. Our children’s, children’s, children will probably watch it. Why? Because it is an institution for women … and fashion. The fact that I can watch this show … some nine years later and still get fashion inspiration from her … says something.

All I’m saying is … where did the fashion go? Patricia Field … if you can hear me. Drop a sister a line and let me know the couture is safe and sound.