Packing For NYFW

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Photo credit: http://slightlyhipster.blogspot.com/2012/04/and-we-lived-happily-ever-after.html

As much as the idea of going to New York Fashion Week makes me the happiest person on the planet (no seriously, I would sell my mother to go again), the thought of having to pack for it makes me sweat profusely.

I’ve seen all these fashion folk on Twitter stressing about what to pack for fashion week. And as much as deep down I’m saying, “seriously, shut the hell up, you are going to Mecca and you don’t even care …I hate your face a little,” I kind of sympathize with them.

I’m a notoriously bad packer. If I’m going to a tropical place where all I need is a couple of bathing suits and cover ups, I’ll end up bringing like a ball gown, a suit in case, you know, I get a job interview, and a sweatshirt and sweatpants … because wonder if a freak cold front hits Jamaica?! The what-ifs destroy me … and my packing methods … or lack their of.

Going to Fashion Week for the first time was intimidating. Do you dress avant-garde to set the style standard and get noticed by Street Style photogs? Or do you go the “all-black editor route” and just be a wall flower? Well, I went the “all-black editor route” and paired it with fierce 4-inch heels with spikes going up the back for a little jazz, if you will. I had this awful vision of dressing to impress and having Street Style photogs beg for my photograph, because I’m THAT cool, and as I placed my hand on my hip to pose, I topple over my 4 inch heels only to be left a fashion disaster on the steps of Lincoln Center. Yep, all-black wallflower it is.

Options are a must. I like all of my options in front of me so I can pick and choose and play around. The idea of planning ahead and thinking about what to wear to what show specifically … well … like I said … makes me sweat profusely. My biggest fear would be getting dressed, looking for that bold gold cuff I have, and realizing I didn’t bring it … leaving me desperately craving it and feeling unfinished. How do you go on?!

So with all of that being said, unless I can bring my entire wardrobe, like Kate Winslet-style in Titanic, I have no interest in going to silly New York Fashion Week. Psh :::flips hair::: The style stress alone would kill me, because God knows I would pack jean shorts and a crop top instead of my go-to LBD. Ahh how glorious it is to be stress-free. Jealous, fashion folk?

Clearly just kidding. Don’t mind me … that is just my Fashion Week FOMO talking. :::Sigh:::

I Will Not Bash Girls. I Will Not Bash Girls.

Last night I was toying with the idea of writing a post about how much I loathe the show Girls, and how much I don’t want to watch the premiere of Season 3, and how I don’t understand why everyone thinks Lena Dunham is God’s gift because I think the way she is portraying women in my generation is the most acutely inaccurate thing I’ve ever seen. But alas I decided not to for fear Life Sucks In A Strapless Bra would be surrounded by tumbleweeds and crickets by the time people got done reading it, and or an angry mob of 20-something women would be at my front door ready to burn me at the stake.

So instead, let’s talk about the Golden Globes, shall we? Pay no attention to my negative thoughts on Girls and how I can’t relate to a single character because I’m not a hipster, nor a broke writer miraculously still affording to live in Brooklyn, or an annoying girl living on mommy and daddy’s funds who wears too much pink, or a cry baby beauty whose catch phrase should be “why do all the bad things happen to me :::folds arms and scowls:::” because she can’t land a dream curating job in NYC. Umm hello? But no. Golden Globes is what we are here to discuss, kids.

I wanted to play a game called, opinions in five words or less (contractions don’t count clearly), because drawn out critiques of gowns make me yawn. So here it is … and share who your fave was!

Zooey Deschanel, Oscar de la Renta: Vintage-inspired? Hmm. Innovative. Not.

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Elisabeth Moss, J.Mendel: Bad ass perfection.

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Lupita Nyong’o, Ralph Lauren: Swoon-worthy. I want a cape.

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Sandra Bullock, Prabal Gurung: Color blocking. Yawn.

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Amy Adams, Marchesa: Everyday she’s American Hustlin’.

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Robin Wright, Reem Acra: My woman crush.

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Kerry Washington, Balenciaga: Preggo gladiator perfection. It’s handled.
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Emma Watson, Dior: YES, YES, YES! PANTS!

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Sofia Vergara, Zac Posen: Great dress. Wrong necklace.

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Jennifer Lawrence, Dior: No. And get extensions.

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Of course I saved the best for last!

Cate Blanchett, Armani Prive: Best. Dressed.

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Going Old School With ModCloth

modclothInspiration can come from numerous places. Street style, flipping through fashion mags, a day of shopping (or what I like to call my cardio regimen). But recently I found myself fascinated with the fashions from the 1950’s. Perhaps it is the vintage furniture store by my house that makes me lust after every piece in there, or maybe it is my borderline obsession with the new show Masters of Sex on Showtime. I’m more obsessed with the wardrobes though and how timeless everything is. A little rigid and out of touch with today’s lax society … but classic and beautiful.

As much as I adore being able to rock jeans everywhere I go from work to fancy restaurants to parties, I kind of wish I got to experience what it was like to have to throw on your best dress, pearls, gloves, and hat for outings like going to the mall. I’m lucky if I even brush my hair when I go to the mall.

So when my friends over at ModCloth.com came and asked me to style this lovely Remarkable Without a Cause dress from their private label collection, I immediately saw a golden opportunity to turn it back old school.

All women look good in red. And if you don’t think you do … it’s probably because you are too chicken to try it out. Yeah … I called you a chicken. A red dress, especially this one, is a classic show stopper. One, if styled the way I did, you could wear to work, a date, dinner with friends, or even out running errands, if you want to return to the classic days of beauty. Hell … Chris DeBurgh made an AMAZING song about it. If you don’t think you look good in red, I want you to click this link, listen to this song, and ponder this red dress. Go on … do it.

My inspiration came from Lizzy Caplan … better known as Janis Ian from Mean Girls, but currently has taken the role as Virginia Johnson on Masters of Sex. She’s a single mom, aspiring to be something other than a homemaker, which back then was like saying you fancied worshipping Satan in your free time, and she’s pretty much an overall bad ass chick portrayed in the 1950’s.

What I love about this look that I created is that it immediately ignites confidence. I just imagine a woman dressed to the nines in all of these items, throwing on the shades, grabbing her black patent handbag, flipping her God damn hair and storming the streets. And not to mention it is a great piece to invest in, since it is timeless. A dress cut like this will never go out of style and will forever flatter most body types.

So I hope you have enjoyed my styling for ModCloth.com … it was a little too much fun, and a couple of things may or may not have ended up in my closet whilst styling … you know … by accident. And you know what … I’m not ashamed.

All items can be purchased on ModCloth.com here: Dress: Remarkable Without A Cause, Shoes: Woo Cute Heel, Bag: Smart Maneuver Bag, Tights: Pin-Up To You, Shades: Take A Glint, Hat: Artistic Accolades Fascinator, Cape: Plethora of Poise, Gloves: Not to Worry

A Plea to Pajamas

stylesight-intimate-details-new-york-fashion-week-fall-winter-2013-marc-jacobsDearest PJs,

What happened to our relationship? Did I keep you in my “comfy pant” drawer for too long? Was it that I spent too much time with my ratty, hole-ridden sweats? I know rebellion when I see it, and I’m on to you, my friend. Fed up with just being the “go-to-guy” for special occasions like Christmas morning, you busted out of the shadows and into the control of designers like Marc Jacobs.

Your silky touch used to soothe me whilst under the covers, and now you are too busy turning your nose up at us “normal folk” while strutting your stuff on some of the biggest Fashion Week runways. I realize I treated you badly. I realize I never made the effort to match your tops with your bottoms. I realize I may or may not have gotten bleach stains all over you. And oh those nights when we would fight … you would annoy me to the point where I found myself ripping you off and throwing you to the ground. :::sigh:::

But know that I adore you, my comforting friend, I just don’t want to wear you out on the town or to work. I don’t want to wear you with heels. I don’t want to have to put on red lipstick and style you senseless. It’s not you … it’s me. I want you curled up on my couch with me, snuggled under the covers and styled with a messy bun sans makeup with a glass of wine in my hand. But alas … you are too busy throwing away what we had to rub shoulders with glamorous models and actresses on the red carpet.

I realize if Marc Jacobs told me to jump … I would be more than tempted to say how high, but try and be you. For I cringe every time I see a group of normal women in a store, women who don’t have or can’t afford a stylist, surrounding themselves around you exclaiming things like, “what the HELL am I supposed to do with these?!

You’re about to put lots of fantastic women on the Worst Dressed List. In fact, Joan Rivers is licking her lips in anticipation to have her way with you. Stop being silly … and come back to where you belong.

The “Comfy Pant” Drawer Ain’t The Same Without You,

Life Sucks In A Strapless Bra

Answer To A Question Clearly Not Generated By The Female Population …

So since I have launched this blog, I’ve been getting a lot of fantastic feedback, comments and questions. And the most common question I have been receiving is, “Hey Kate, why DOES life suck in a strapless bra?” Now, mostly these questions have been asked by men because let’s be honest, I want to meet a girl who hasn’t had to wear one … and better yet … has worn one and enjoyed it. Because if so, you are a dirty liar my friend. So instead of me having to keep spurting out sentence fragments that include, “vice” “hell in bra form,” “uncomfortable torture device,” I decided, in the words of Jay-z, to take some time out to set the record straight for you.

Modern Day Torture Device: Now I know back in the day women used to crush their rib cages with ridiculously tight corsets to have that desired two-inch waist look, but the modern-day equivalent would be A. Spanks and B. Strapless Bras. There are all these myths, or truths depending on how you look at it and depending on where you buy bras, that you need to get it a size smaller … no no no … get it your EXACT bra size, no no no if you clasp it on the middle hook it will fit perfectly. It is different for every woman. Everyone has a dress they die for and really can only wear a strapless bra with. So we will shove ourselves into whatever works to pull off a look. We do it to ourselves, I realize it, guilty as charged. These bastards define the statement, “beauty hurts.”

The Strapless Bra Dance: If you have ever worn a strapless anything, you are guilty of doing this dance. Step 1: Taking your thumb and pointer finger to the outer sides of your bra, dress or shirt. Step 2: With your elbows out like you are about to do the chicken dance, you start moving you torso and chest area back and forth trying to shimmy your top up while clenching your teeth awkwardly. Step 3. Look down and make sure all appropriate body parts are covered and in their proper places, and glance to your left and to your right to make sure no one saw you do this. Step 4: Repeat in probably 5-10 minutes until it starts to look like an uncontrollable habit as the night goes on. There should be no shame, we effing have to do this so we don’t have a “Janet Jackson Super Bowl moment,” so mine as well make it look cool, right? During step 2, do a little Mick Jagger “rooster” move or something, you know, make it your own.

Fear the “Janet” Slip: We have to always be conscious of them, because they make us be conscious of them. They are clinging to our skin for dear life saying, “PAY ATTENTION TO ME WOMAN OTHERWISE I’LL DO IT … I’LL SLIP … I SWEAR TO GOD I WILL.” It isn’t like a normal bra that we can slap on and forget due to magical little saviors known as bra straps. No, we have to look alive 24/7, otherwise before you know it while you are breaking it down on the dance floor, having a glass of wine talking to a strapping young gentleman, driving in your car, or even talking to your boss … it happens. Slippage. A certain private something that rhymes with “ripple”, I will leave it at that, rears its ugly head and you are doomed. Doomed for being that girl, doomed for immediately realizing what just happened mid-convo, turning bright red, saying “OMG” and having to fumble to put it back in its strapless bra cage once again like I puppy that just tried to escape all the while wondering if the person you are conversing with saw. Try rebounding from THAT conversation … it is impossible. What were we just talking about?

Stage 5 Clinger: I’m personally a very independent person. Sometimes I like my space and can do my own thing without having to have someone hold my hand. So the fact that I have to strap this non-supportive, needy little biatch to my knockers just so I can rock a fabulous strapless dress is beyond annoying to me. I take care of it, I nurture it, I watch over it to make sure it is doing its job, for the love if I was the strapless bra’s boss I would have totally fired it by now. And do you know what I receive back? Hurtful indentation marks on my skin from it clinging on so hard and uncomfortable, sweaty pain . If it is too tight, which some are if you get a size smaller like some “experts” recommend, it can feel like your rib cage is being squeezed to death. Pleasant right? It is like the bra broke up with the straps and needs to cling to you as hard as possible in order to survive. Gross, leave me alone dammit.

Not, “Like a Glove”: Did I mention they NEVER fit properly? Bras were invented to give women a boast of confidence to make them look fierce and fabulous. What has a strapless bra every done for ANYONE? It either flattens you out, makes you sometimes look like you have four boobs if it cuts in a weird way or falls throughout the day, or there is this awkward gap between the actual cup and your skin. I mean it is a lose lose situation. I’ve tried to buy cute, fun and interesting strapless bras, you know the kind that can transform into 10001 different things, but they tend to not work even more than the normal boring ones. Hello, the gifts your mama gave you should be accentuated in an appropriate fashion, not just covered up in an uncomfortable vice.

Now I’m not a crazy feminist who is demanding we all burn out strapless bras right now to make a statement to the “men” who make us wear them. I am the first one to say we do it to ourselves for the sake of looking amazing. I respect that there are many fabulous strapless things out there that we deserve to rock. All I’m highlighting is the death that we put ourselves through in order to not look like a crazytown crack whore with our bra straps hanging out while we wear these strapless garments.

Now guys out there, all four of you who read this, I also respect the fact that sometimes, if you are sporty spice, you have to wear things like jock straps … which I can imagine to not be a slice of pie to deal with, right? So with that being said, I hope you all understand a bit better why life ACTUALLY does suck in a strapless bra. But we do it because fashion is fabulous. And hey, I’m an optimist, maybe one day I will find that golden garment that won’t slide down my back throughout the day, stab me, leave me breathless and make my boobs look as unattractive as possible.

Here is to hoping ladies!