Screw Snow, My Mind Is In Paris

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As much as I love the non-humid, great hair days, the reason to stay in bed or on your couch and snuggle, and the perfect excuse to not have to exist with the general population … fuck this winter, pardon my French.

You know what? I’m not even going to waste your time discussing how “snowmaggedon” didn’t show its face, because if you are anything like me, you are so exhausted of people bitching and complaining and dissecting the weather that all you want to do is shove two thick down pillows over your ears to drown out the sorrow.

And as I was trying not to slip and die on my way to the train, and thinking about the snow day that could have been, I decided, enough! Enough bitching. Enough complaining. Why not transport myself to a better place, with better people, and better clothing, and better champagne? Oh yeah … I’m talking¬† Spring 2015 Couture Fashion Week.

If these images below don’t get your engine revved for spring, then you are probably dead … or soulless … either or. It’s truly so mystical and dreamy and … well … anything goes. What in life gets better? I’m beyond in to it. So fuck snow, or lack their off, fuck the frigid temps … my mind is in Paris, if you need me or it.













Aura Tout Vu

Aura Tout Vu

AuraToutVu2(All photos from

Mmmm Couture

6.nocrop.w840.h1330I want to go to Paris. And not so I can fall in love under the Eiffel Tower, or stand in the ridic line at the Louvre to not see the Mona Lisa, or wear a dumbass beret and really scream, “HEY … I’M MURICAN!” No. I want to dive in the sea of overflowing fashion that is happening right now. I want to bathe in it. I want to be injected with it. Oh yeah …¬† I said it.

Ladies, New York Fashion Week is amateur hour compared to the Paris Couture shows. You don’t see the swarms of fashion bloggers from all over the country taking selfies out front of the shows. Or assholes like me who just stand out front of Lincoln Center ticketless and hoping to see a cool famous person. Nope. This is strictly for the big wigs. The people who truly respect and want to soak in every ounce of the beauty and art that these shows have to offer. I’m not hating on my fellow fashion bloggers, but even I know I don’t belong there. Some things should remain sacred, ya know?

So instead I sat on my bed last night, flipping through the slideshows on The Cut and pretending I was sitting front row next to Anna Wintour and Grace Coddington trying to act cool but secretly freaking out inside. Everything was so beautiful, so abstract, and some so simple you would sell a loved one just to hold it (trust me, I’ve contemplated it).

Life just doesn’t get any better than couture. It just doesn’t. We forget sometimes because there is truly so much crap out there. Beautiful crap … but crap. But when you see couture it just like a breath of fresh air, like “holy lord, I’m wearing trash bags and paying too much money for them. What am I doing with my life.”

I’ll let you decide which is your favorite, but I completely fell head over heals for Dior’s show and would put on one of those coats in this heatwave happily and twirl around. Hell, I would probably live in it like a cartoon character who only rocks one outfit. So if you would excuse me, I’m going to go back to daydreaming that I’m in Paris for the couture shows and not sweating on the subway with the commoners. K, bye. Now enjoy some of the pieces I’m currently drooling over.










On Aura Tout Vu


Giambattista Valli






*All photos were taken from The Cut.

A Real Girl Showed Up At The Oscars … GASP!

CaptureYes, I was one of those crazed freaks that watched the entire Oscars last night. I can’t help it, I’m just desperately waiting for the 2013 version of “Soy Bomb” to run on stage and do something crazytown. Alas, nothing of the sort happened … yawn.

But I came to realize something last night. And that something was … that I want Jennifer Lawrence to become my new best friend. I’m not even going to call it a girl crush, because it is so not like that (and my girl crush at the moment is Jessica Chastain … durh). But seriously, I either want to invite her over for a slumber party where we get drunk in sweats and watch Adam McKay movies and laugh and prank call Bradley Cooper and have her describe what making out with him is like. Or I want to hang out with her at a hole in the wall bar that only accepts cash where we can see how many guys we can get to buy us drinks and laugh at drunk people.

She is a breath of fresh air to “the industry” and literally the antithesis of Anne Hathaway. I used to love Anne Hathaway, until she started giving acceptance speeches and vomming pretentious nonsense. “It finally came true … eeeeeeee!” We get it, your mother played the same role you did in Les Mis, you started out as a Princess Diary, all you’ve ever wanted was to be an actress … raaaaaa. And then … the winner was J. Law, who literally fell on her face walking to the stage because she was probably so shocked slash excited … and my God who in the right mind could ACTUALLY walk in that dress?! Now THAT is what I’m talking about. Why? Because that is something I SO would have done!

We here at Life Sucks In A Strapless Bra, and by we I mean I, are all about keeping it real. Strapless bras and strapless dresses aren’t comfortable nor do they stay up …, as we saw all last night with numerous starlets shimmying up strapless frocks, and wearing couture gowns and walking in 5 inch toothpicks with no support is no easy task. And yes … sometimes, we get stains on our shirts, and would rather get down with a cheese steak rather than a salad, and when we fall, we may or may not drop the eff bomb over and over. But hey, these are the cold hard realities of being a chick nowadays. The days of wearing proper white gloves are out the door. Not because I don’t want to be proper, I actually find it a very romantic trend, but because if I wore said white gloves, I would probably have orange Cheetos stains all up in them … and that’s a little gross, right?

Clearly Anne Hathaway has paid for an invisible stain shield to form around her at all times. And how much do you want to bet she keeps viles of perfection in her alphabetized pantry? And then there is J. Law who had no problem rolling up to Seacrest and complaining about how starved she was. She fell in front of every large and in charge movie star AND anyone watching on TV while going to get her Oscar and managed to bust out a very sincere and eloquent acceptance speech without making fun of herself too much, but at the same time not turning a blind eye to the fact that she just bit it. I would have been purple with embarrassment and probably drooling. So thank you for making America realize … females like Anne Hathaway at the Oscars … don’t exist in real life. They just don’t.

And a girl who eats a cheese steak before the Oscars is one that needs to be my new BFF. Let’s be the new Paris Hilton and Nicole Richie … you know, except less … umm … yeah … not. Come on, please? J. Law … ma girl! Okay cool … call me! Or should I call you? You know what you’re probs busy … whatever :::awkwardly laughs::: silly me … I’ll just wait by the phone.


Ps. Don’t feel bad … look at Carrie Bradshaw. She fell IN Dior … you fell while wearing Dior. Whatevs. Also, she fell on the New York Fashion Week runway wearing Dolce … so yeah … you win. I don’t care if Carrie Bradshaw isn’t real … you still win. Now can we be BFF’s?