Balmain For H&M … Do You Dare?

Screen Shot 2015-10-16 at 2.37.47 PMI like to think you all know me by now. I pretty much wear all black. I’m a hop, skip, and a jump away from being a cat lady (and I’m totally cool with that). And I loathe when designers partner with retailers like Target. Simply because I believe designer clothes are something you have to work for, and not something you should be allowed to pick up on your way to get laundry detergent. 

But people can change … right? 

I gotta say … the Balmain for H&M collection is pretty dreamy. So dreamy that I’ve considered even being one of “those” people who get up crazy early, wait outside in a line full of freaks for the doors of the store to open, and throw bows to get my prized item. Yep. It has happened. What can I say … a good collection can have that affect on even the snarkiest of folk. 

Yet all I see are all the insanely rad fashion bloggers out there like, “Ew. Why. Stop. My eyes. :::Yawn::: :::Hair flip::: :::Sip latte::: :::Instagram lipstick left on latte cup:::” 

But personally … I could give a shit. Simply because A. the collection looks decent and I’m a fan of the designer (and not because of the Kardashians, okay :::shifty eyes:::) and B. more importantly … I’m terribly curious to witness the launch of one of these designer meets retailer collections go down. 

I’ve never had the balls, simply because seeing women go insane and lose their shit and all of their manners just to score some piece of clothing with a designer label on it for H&M prices (which, hi, makes absolutely no sense) makes me wildly uncomfortable. Like palms sweaty, anxiety-ridden uncomfortable. 

Unfortunately, and sadly … really, really sadly, it has been on my fashion bucket list to witness an event as such. I have no idea why. Maybe I think it will be funny. Maybe I’m slightly addicted to the drama of it all. Maybe I’m a writer and this is the kind of crazed shit writers enjoy. Who the eff knows. 

I’m also really scared. Scared of what the sight of cheap designer goods does to the women of the world. Scared that I will literally get punched in the face by an insane women reaching for the same thing as me. Scared that I will get tripped and fall on my face, breaking all of my teeth, only to be left on the floor of H&M bleeding with not a care in sight. And scared I won’t get anything. Dammit, if I’m waiting to get into H&M for crying out loud, mama wants some cheap Balmain

So November 5, if anyone is feeling crazy and wants to wake up super early with me, I’ll be waiting in line at some H&M trying not to get murdered. I’ll buy the donuts, you bring the mace. Let’s do this. 

Until then, let’s drool over all the insane looks, shall we? 

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Got Wang? Wait … What?

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When it comes to traditional Alexander Wang, I would probably sell my mother on the black market for it (sorry ma). It’s amazing. It’s gorgeous. I can’t afford it, but if I could, I would be dripping in Alexander Wang all day err day. When I watch his runway shows, I drool. Literally. It’s disgusting.

Oh course, when you hear there is going to be an Alexander Wang collection that won’t have the cold breath of death price tag, you may get the urge to jump for joy, but I’m smarter than the average bear … or I like to think so (hair flip). Even though I notoriously loathe designer collections for retailers like Target and H&M … I always give them a chance. I always keep my fingers crossed that it will make me want to rise and shine early to stand in line with fellow psychopaths that would sell their souls for a piece of the collection before it goes up on Ebay for astronomical prices.

Alexander Wang for H&M, well, I wouldn’t say I loathe it, I’m just kind of sitting here scratching my head at it like, “huh”? If we were playing the game of, “what Spice Girl would you be,” I guess if you chose Sporty Spice this collection would be money for you … otherwise, again, my head is tilted and I just keep asking myself what in the what is going on in the wonderful world of fashion? Because every girl who gives a shit about style is dying for it. Literally clawing their way in to the H&M showroom to get their hands on a piece of this collection … and I’m just like, “meh.” Is their something wrong with me? Why don’t I like Wang? Wait … what?

If you are anything like me, you have a group of friends that are violently immature and walk around waiting with baited breath to say, “that’s what she said!” as dated and dusty as that phrase is. So I just can’t fathom walking around this earth with sports bras, hats, gloves, dresses that say WANG across them in big bold letters, for I would be a walking punchline. That’s just me though … I suppose my balls aren’t big enough to sport WANG. Get it?!? Ehhhh?!

And then, maybe he’s tipping his cap to the “strong woman.” The woman who isn’t afraid to wear all black and kick some ass. Which I mean, who couldn’t get behind that? In fact, when I see this collection, all I can think about is various Janet Jackson videos from the 80’s/90’s. Like Rhythm Nation, right?! But for me, I wear black all the time, but I’m also the person who has dreams that she goes to hit someone and her fists go limp. I truly couldn’t hurt a fly. I’m more of the run away as fast as I can from danger kind of gal. I wouldn’t have the slightest idea of what to do with WANG boxing gloves.

I’m not saying this collection is comparable to that nightmare known as Missoni for Target … woof … I’m just saying I don’t get it. It’s cool. It’s bad ass. But it isn’t for me. I think you have to be a very specific kind of woman to rock this collection and rock it right. Like Cara Delevingne. You need to be Cara Delevingne. If you aren’t her, then just admire it from afar.

And, for anyone,  Cara Delevingne included, be prepared for jokes due to the fact that you have the word WANG printed in bold all over your person. Don’t say I didn’t warn you. Because I’m already starting to think of some creative ones.

But this dress is kind of rad. Not rad enough to wait in line with all the Wang Psychopaths (see what I did there), but rad to look at from afar.