Walking Away From Things That No Longer Serve Me

Screen shot 2013-05-16 at 8.49.50 PMWhat is this pile of nonsense in the photo to the left, you ask? Well … I’ve been putting off spring/summer shopping. Reasons being that A. I can’t find anything that I really lerve, and B. I’ve become one with my closet. Instead of just shopping to shop, I’ve gotten very creative, with the help of Pinterest of course, with what is already in my closet. Repurposing old looks. Pairing different things together. But as I’ve been bonding with the clothes I already have, I’ve noticed these pieces that I haven’t touched in maybe over a year … just sitting there, never touching my body … EVER. Just taking up space. And I realized the only reason why I’ve kept them there is because I like the diversity they add to my closet, like magazine editors are knocking on my bedroom door to photograph them or something, and of course the age-old saying that leaves these stale pieces in our closets forever, “I’ll totally wear that one day.” No you won’t, shut up, fool.

So I’ve made a deal with myself. I’m not allowed to shop until I weed out these “filler” pieces. Hence why I immediately have a pile of clothes that no longer serve me on the floor of my room. Why do they no longer serve me? Well … they are pieces of clothing that have stains or rips on them. That are faded and no longer fit. Poorly made pieces of crap that are missing buttons, and other items that I just associate with bad memories. Oh … and let’s not forget all of those “sleepy shirts” I have. These are shirts that have my college logo on them that ended up in my dorm room at some point that I kept out of pure nostalgia. Or shirts from bar crawls that say stuff like “I’m Drunk Betches!”, or shirts I picked up AT bars that have “Bacardi whore” written across them. Bu … bu … BYEEEEEEEEEE.

When you get to a point in your life when it seems like everything and everyone is against you, where people are only interested in breaking your heart and walking away for you to clean up the mess and make sense of it all, or break down your confidence so severely that you no longer know yourself … you know it’s time for a change. Some start with finding Jesus … I start with my closet.

So the rules of this closet cleanse?

1. If I haven’t worn you in a year … you are gone.

2. If you remind me of some emotional bitch slap … you are too, also gone.

3. If you no longer fit right, yet I just love your color and style … gone.

4. If you are a poorly made piece of crap … see ya.

5. If you are stained … but I so desperately wish you weren’t stained … sweet Jesus, bye.

So there you have it. This is just the beginner pile. I may end up with like five pieces of clothing left, but at least it will be the beginning of a fresh start I so desperately need. Or maybe I’ll end up like those obnoxiously annoying chic ladies who literally have 10 pieces of classic staples in their wardrobe that they somehow magically transform into numerous different looks. Ha I could never live like this, my only hope is that I will be reasonably able to shut my drawers.

So there it is. If any of these garments interest anyone … I will be happy to send them your way as a token of my appreciation for you being a loyal reader of my nonsense. But be warned though … some of these pieces are poorly made pieces of crap. I won’t call out specific garments … but if you can guess which ones they are … bonus points for you, my dear reader!

Closet Space: Let Me, Let Me Downgrade ‘Cha

Moving. :::Sigh::: People tell you how heinous it is, but you really don’t know until you make 15 trips to get your closet from your car to your room … upstairs. In other news, my side abs are looking FANTASTIC. But yes, if you don’t stalk me on social media, then you’ve missed all of my fantastical ranting and raving about this epic move that owned my life for the past two-three weeks. But it is over. I am through with the moving conversation.

oldclosetAnd yes, I did get emotional when saying goodbye to my old closet, pictured to the left. It wasn’t like Real Housewives status or anything, but it fit my wardrobe perfectly and I Pinterested it before Pinterest was “Pinterest” by ripping the doors off and adding sheers. I couldn’t help but run my fingers one last time through the sheers as Boys to Men’s, “It’s So Hard To Say Goodbye to YesterdayHEEEE,” played in my head.

That song quickly turned into, “Movin’ on Up” as I went to place my clothing in their new home, when … wait, what :::record screeches:::? Yep. Meet my new closet I’ve deemed “the hole.” Honestly … who can work with something like this?! I am a visual person. When thinking of outfit options, I like all of them staring right back at me so I can say, “Hey guy, I’m going to wear you today with this other guy” (yes I talk to my clothes, don’t you?)

So I had two options: 1. Throw my clothes on the floor and roll around in them crying screaming, “WHY?! WHY ME, LORD?!?!” or 2. Get creative.

To everyone’s shock and awe, I chose the later.

1. I became one with my space: I figured out where my furniture would fit best (and look best) in order to get an idea of how much space I was workin’ with and what storage option would work well with it. It also forced me to get all of my shit in order, otherwise I would be the girl who lived out of boxes.

2. I embraced storage options: I never understood “The Container Store” or people who were obsessed with it. Seemed like overpriced plastic nonsense for organizational freaks to me. Now I know … they are women who lack closet space. After realizing a rolling rack is what would fill my space void … I started researching Walmart, the Container Store, IKEA, Amazon … and numerous other random sites for the perfect one.

3. I got Pinterested: Not only did I need more space for my clothes … I needed it to look chic. This is my room, the expression of who I am, for the love of Jesus. I’ve worked tirelessly to create an oasis for myself and I wouldn’t have it ruined by an obtrusive piece of furniture that i just had to buy for the sake of storage. Eff that … aesthetics comes first. I therefore turned to Pinterest for creative options from shelving to rolling racks. I’m telling you, if you ever have a creative roadblock from style to home decor to world peace issues … Pinterest will save the day … I swear.

4. I became okay with failing: In this process, you need to know that your first attempt at storage solutions … won’t work. The storage Gods don’t play that way, homie. You will need to move furniture, reorganize, move furniture again. Shit will break and it will lead you to drink. You’ll buy one rolling rack, replace it for another, and drink some more. Or (like I did), make your mom tradesies with you for the perfect rolling rack fit.

5. I found rolling rack Jesus: Once you find the perfect storage solution … this overwhelming sense of peace takes over your body. No I’m serious, it is like an outer body experience … you just feel … soothed. Calm. Heavenly. No I’m CLEARLY not that much of a storage psychopath … but it was a vibrant sense of completeness when I turned my storage nightmare into this Pinterest-worthy creation. BOOM. Not only do I get to showcase all my fantastic pieces, but the rack works with the rest of my furniture, AND there is still so much room for ACTIVITIES!

The Finished Product:



I’ve Fallen Down Yet Another Social Media Black Hole

I act like I don’t waste half of my life on Facebook, Foursquare, Twitter, LinkedIn and Google Circles … but I in fact do. Honestly, if you are under the age of like 45 and say you don’t, you are a dirty liar. Sometimes I’m on Facebook and realize that a ridiculously large chunk of time has passed that I can’t help but start shaking my fist violently and exclaim to myself, “DAMN YOU, ZUCKERBERG … give me back the hours I’ve wasted!”

So I totally thought I was finished with adopting social media channels when my sister introduced me to the new forbidden fruit: Pinterest. At first I was standoffish, refusing to download the App to my phone … just like I was with Twitter, Foursquare and LinkedIn at first. But of course, out of boredom, I succumbed to the luring temptress known as Pinterest … and … it … RULES. Literally, when I’m in line at the grocery store, waiting for a train, anything that involves down time … I’m on my iPhone pinning. It is a freaking deliciously addictive disease.

From fashion to beauty to fitness to art to food to architecture, this is like the most amazing place to explain who you are and what you like in life through the pinning of some really amazing pictures. Please excuse me if I sound like that 90-year-old woman who says to their grandchildren, “hey … are you kids on the Face Space … I hear it is pretty cool,” because I have a feeling I’m totally late to the Pinterest party … but if you aren’t on it, get on it. Immediately. In fact, I will send you an invite if you ask nicely!

Of course I made a Pinterest account for Life Sucks In A Strapless Bra … so make sure to follow me, friend me, pin me, retweet me … I don’t know the proper Pinterest lingo yet, clearly. My screen name or username or handle, whatever you kids are calling it these days, is LSIASB¬†(Life Sucks In A Strapless Bra was apparently too long … jerks.)

I’m not one of those people who like to have about 50 boards of my inspiration, and what I hate, and what I like, and my style, and the foods I eat, and the wall of just my favorite color. I strictly have what I like to literally call my ¬†“Wall of Awesome.” So I hope you enjoy the things that inspire me and that I find beautiful as I will pin and comment on things that Life Sucks In A Strapless Bra is all about. Style ideas, outfits we would die for, trends etc … it will all be pinned!

Can’t wait to hang out with you guys at this new fashion forward social media scene. Now if you will excuse me I have precious hours of my life to waste pinning shit.


Confessions Of A Style Site Addict

Hello, my name is Kate and I subscribe to waaaaay too many style and sale related email blasts. It honestly is starting to get comical. When I wake up in the morning I turn off my iPhone alarm and check my personal email only to find like over 10 emails. Are they work related? No. Are they from family or friends? Nope. It is more like five LivingSocial¬†deals, five Groupons and sporadic, “Kate, Barneys is showcasing Missoni today!” and “So and so is following you on Pinterest!” Every morning, I’m haunted by great deals present and ghosts of my past purchases.

I make it a point to always check the “no thanks, I do not want to receive your annoying email blasts just because I bought a T-shirt” button right before I make a purchase or sign up for something. But somehow, I’m always receiving emails from these people about nonsense I don’t care about. Conspiracy, I think yes. Like for example, I bought my mom a purse from Barneys last year (I know I’m the best daughter in the world), politely clicked the “please don’t torture me with your emails of pretty clothing I can’t afford” button, and yet … daily … I get torture some emails. Look, please leave me alone until the day when I can actually get excited over the fact that a Chanel bag is marked down to $4,500 instead of $5,000, kay thanks.

Over the past two years, I have fallen down several “style site” rabbit holes. Esty, Pinterest, Gilt Groupe, Barneys, Amazon, Fab.com, Covet, Rue La La, Polyvore, Refinery29, Shopstyle, Send the Trend and probably numerous others (I have sick issues, right?) People send me recommendations to join these sites and I accept like a damn fool only to have my inbox flooded with so many style options, opinions, articles and sales that my mind gets so boggled I don’t even know where to find my sanity. The sad part is, I NEVER go on these sites. Maybe once every two weeks, if I’m lucky.

I don’t even know how I ended up on some of them, like Send the Trend, where the hell did you come from? Did I get style roofied or are people signing me up without my knowledge? You know what, there needs to be like a Kayak-esque site for style sites so I can get all my information in one place so I don’t turn into a recluse who spends her time feeding cats and scrolling through these sites with no friends, social life or job. Someone kindly get on that, Zuckerberg, I’m lookin’ at you bud.

And LivingSocial and Groupon, well I do that to myself straight up. I’m signed up in three different locations because I live one place, that is close to a huge city, and work in a completely different area. But sometimes I don’t care if 500 viles of Botox are 55% off, okay? I’ve received a bazillion deals, contemplated buying millions and bought … yep … ONE. Why don’t I unsubscribe? Because I secretly like being tortured by them … and I like the option of one day being spontaneous and getting a 53% off hot stone massage somewhere.

So at the end of the day, what really revs my engine when I see it waiting for me in my inbox is Fab.com. The name says it all because it is fab … .com. Yes, some of the stuff is crazytown expensive, but most of it is really affordable, one-of-a-kind treasures. It is like a club you have to be invited to, otherwise you cannot participate … but I love it.

The rest of it, well … I’m still unsubscribing … or so I think.