Showing posts with label indie hipster scene oh my. Show all posts
Showing posts with label indie hipster scene oh my. Show all posts

Thursday, September 3, 2009

The One About Plaid

I'm back! I'm moved in-the clothes are hung, books are shelved. I'm loving my classes, thank god. And I'm laying on my dorm floor, right now, watching Ladies and Gentlemen, the Fabulous Stains. I love the clothes they wear in this movie, even Diane Lane's ratty cheetah print coat.
I don't know what its like at all the other colleges around the country, but everyone and their mother is wearing plaid this fall. On the first day of classes, 25% of campus at least were wearing plaid, including me. There's nothing better than a boy in plaid, so I'm not complaining. It just makes me giggle when every other girl is wearing some variation of a plaid tunic. I've been theorizing about why plaid is so popular. I know that the 90s are cycling back around. But I also think plaid has that homey, comforting quality. Its very American and familiar, in a time when a lot of things are uncertain in the country (you know, just the job market, health care, recession. a few minor things).
Outfits!
My first day of school outfit! Tunic from Urban Outfitters, Leggins and silver bangles from WalMart, Belt from Pac Sun, Loafer wedges from Payless. The necklaces are self-made.
This is my life partner, she wanted to be photographed too. She's wearing a Chiodos t-shirt, Bullhead jeans, and white Chucks. Her necklace and bracelet were made by me. Today's outfit. The tunic, cardigan and scarf are from Old Navy. The leggings and silver bangles are from WalMart. The flats are from Charlotte Russe, and the blue bangle (on forearm) is from Laila Rose. Michelle my life partner, wearing various clothes she "borrowed" from sorority sisters. I was trying to ironically wear the sweater vest, but its more straight up prepster. I can't hide my love for argyle. Sweater Vest, NY & Co. Grey shirt, Old Navy. Jeans, AmEagle. Necklace, self made. Flats, WalMart.

Monday, August 24, 2009

The One About Tattoos

I've been thinking alot about tattoos recently. Well, not recently. Maybe for the past 3 to 4 years. Senior year --possibly junior year!-- of high school, two of my best friends got tattoos. Kelsey, my super cool "artsy" friend, got her first tattoo. It was her brother's name (Benjamin) in Hebrew between her shoulder blades. No, he isn't dead. She has to answer that question a lot. And no, she isn't jewish. Her brother in turn has her name in Hebrew on his chest. For them, this was a physical symbol of their bond as siblings. After a rough childhood, they promised to always be there for each other. Kelsey and HER MOM got matching, itty bitty heart tattoos on their ankles during our senior year. This is super rad. My grandfather told me that God hates tattoos (see some verse in Deuteronomy). Not rad. Wait till he (never) finds out my brother and uncle both have memorial tatts planned when he passes. My friend Travis got a tribal-ish symbol tattooed on his upper back, that I think was an African symbol for God's promises...? Or life. Something God related. By the end of high school, I thought tattoos were pretty rad, but, being the serious, sensible girl that I am, I always said that I wouldn't get one of my own unless I found something for serious I would want. No tinkerbells or tweetys on this chick. My first plan of action was partly inspired by Project Runway. Adorable Kit had a Heart and Crossbones on the front of her shoulder, just outside of the bra strap. I wanted to get a small fleur-de-lis in the same place. I love and speak the French language, I love French film and literature and basically everything French is better, in my opinion. And I wanted to study abroad in France. My mom laughed at my plans. College started. I met one cool chick who had several tattoos. She peaced out very quickly. The cool ones always do. Lots of girls have their noses pierced, including life partner Michelle. I'd like to get my nose pierced, but my family thinks I'm crazy. Cut to church services at home, where late forties moms have their noses pierced. Yeah. Several more friends from home get some spiffy forearm tattoos. Kelsey is collecting ink work like its her job, and Travis gets a giant rib piece. Summer 2008. Spending lonnnng hours doing little at work. Much like I am now, without the benefit of blogging. Start using flickr to cruise tattoo pictures. After reading a lot about the meaning of the lotus flower, I start really digging the idea of a lotus tattoo. The lotus symbolizes something beautiful rising out of hardship, ugliness, and trials, because the flower grows from the mud of pond bottoms, through the water, and breaks the surface. I wanted to get a lotus tattooed on the back of my neck. If you've read my post about body image, you know that I really struggled with pride in my body and had poor body image. My reasoning was that even though I didn't always see it, my beauty was always present, just like my lotus tattoo.

Pink in Green Originally uploaded by shinichiro*
I was dead set on getting this tattoo done. I made plans with friends to drive to the big city nearby as soon as sophomore year started. I told my mom about it. I was SO excited. The night before I moved back to college, my mom asked me not to get a tattoo. She asked for me to wait out of respect for her and my father, and to wait until I was paying for college myself. I agreed, because she asked me, and didn't command me. I was frustrated that she waited until the last possible moment to say something. (To the right you can see the exact picture I wanted to base my lotus tattoo off of!) I still would really like to get this tattoo some day. Then, March 2009. I got my first tattoo. Spontaneously, which is a word I very rarely come in contact with. Life Partner Michelle and I were up late, and discussing a lot of big issues things. Its hard for anyone other than the two of us to understand how important our friendship is and all the stuff we went through together that year. But, at approx 4 in the morning, we decided to get tattoos. The next day. We skipped classes and went to the nearest non-shadester tattoo parlor. I went first. My tattoo says "No matter what..." and resides on the top of my left foot. Michelle's says "Love is everything" and is on the instep of her left foot. I guess its easiest to call them something lame like BFF tattoos, but they mean so much more than that. "No matter what..." means a lot of things specific to me, as does Michelle's to her. Together, they mean something lovely, but their individual meanings are probably more important. I had this tattoo for a while before telling my parents. I even wore socks all Easter break at home. I didn't want to have to hide it from them. When I finally told them, it came along with some other worrying news about my stress levels and feeling depressed. Its kind of sad, because those other unrelated, and already resolved, worries are paired with my tattoo in my parents mind. They thought I was doing it to be assertive (a little true), they thought I was "trying to find myself" (true) in the wrong ways (I disagree), and they thought that I was investing too much in friendship that they thought would never last, not because of M., but because "you don't stay friends with people you go to college with" (like, seriously. w.t.f.). After a summer of family therapy, I think we might understand each other a little better. Also, I've learned that I can't always please everyone, including my parents. Which is hard. We don't see eye-to-eye about tattoos. Basically, my parents think they're fine on other people, just not on me. We've NEVER talked about what my tattoo means, except for a weak explanation when I originally told them. That makes me sad too, because its so beautiful and I treasure it as part of me. Oh, and, they stopped paying for college. I think it was a scare tactic trying to get me to come home and not go back to school this fall. Instead, I opted to do loans all on my own. Sans co-signer, even. But my mom did buy all of my back to school needs. And they bought me some clothes. Bark is worse than the bite? My dad worries how my tattoo would affect me getting a job. Seriously, people!!! Unless you're getting a tattoo on your hands, neck, or face, basically any other tattoo can be covered by careful dressing. My foot tattoo is almost always on display, true, because it basically curls around the edge of a ballet flat. My boss just realized, after me working for 2 and a half months, that I had a tattoo on my foot. His response: "Cool." Me: "Yeah, it makes me happy." Boss: "That's all that matters!" Me: "OHMYGOD TELL MY DAD THAT!" But if I was in a workplace where I couldn't show a tattoo, well, I'd be wearing something that doesn't show a tattoo anyway. Like, a suit? A cardigan, like I already wear almost every day of my life?? Hey, sleeve tattoo. Meet the oxford button-down. BAM! INSTA-CONSERVATISM! Sometimes I worry about having tattoos and getting married. Do I want lots of tatts in my wedding photos? Then I look at offbeat brides and think, hellz yes! Do I want to one day be a tattooed mommy? What if other mommy's judge me and think that I'll badly influence their babies? Answer still resides in cardigans. Good thing I don't like warm climates. Really, dressing to cover up a tattoo doesn't bother me. I didn't get my tattoo to make anyone else happy or to piss any one else off. So if its going to better aid me to cover it up, I'll cover it up. I can always take off the jacket at home, light some candles, and gaze at my tattoo while humming "secret lovers." Cause, yes, I do love my tattoo that much. What if I become a saggy grandma?? Well, that's reason number 854 why I don't want tattoos on my hips, stomach, or boobs. But, all I can say is thank GOD for my youthful skin. Sure, I might be mistaken for a junior high student at the dentist, but hot damn I have good skin. My mom looks ten years younger than she really does, and so does her mom. Neither of them is saggy. So I expect my tatts to look good well into my 60s. Plus, the key to avoiding sag is staying plump. Not a problem! I worry that certain guys won't want to date me if I have tattoos. Then I remember that my propensity to swear a lot, rave about feminism, and smoke ciggz all night probably weeds out all the guys who get scared off by tattoos. Would I really even want a guy who couldn't stand to go under the needle himself? I ultimately worry what my family thinks. At least this summer I've been able to prove that I am not a degenerate heroin user with an addiction to midget hookers. I make good arts and crafts, I don't smoke around babies (or at all, as far as they're concerned). I wash the dishes. My tattoo has not sent me spiraling into a doomed future of trailer parks and Wendy's drive-thru's. Which I hope they remember when I get my next tattoo. Yeah, I want another one. Really soon. Here's what I'm thinking. "be balanced". A line from bon iver's life-giving song "skinny love" and also a subtle tribute to being a libra. I want it to circle the top of my left forearm (eff. why is it always the left?? my nose is pierced on the left side too!). lowercase cursive script which I have already picked thanks to da font.com. What does it mean to me? The song skinny love connects me to a lot of people. The Guy who first showed me Bon Iver. A different Guy with whom I used to drive around/lay around/ all around and sing skinny love a lot. Melissa heard bon iver for the first time when I played him for her. The song is sad and sweet, a lot like my sophomore year of college. And the phrase itself reminds me of how important it is for me to balance my life. My life was very unbalanced last year and I really suffered because of it. Man! I feel like I've just exposed a little bit of my soul. So, this tatt is a LOT bolder and more present than my lil bitty foot tatt. It only increases my above fears about marriage, men, and family. Still not too freaked about jobs, since a) I love cardigans and b) my chances at employment in general seem slim. I don't know what my parents would do if I got a second tatt. I hope that they accept it quietly with a disapproving air. Worse case scenario... they kill me? Take away the car they lovingly provided? Make me pay room and board? I was thinking maybe I would get it and just wear sleeves for a while, and then be like, ta daa! You didn't know about it, but it was there, and I wasn't any different! My therapist, surprisingly, is all for me getting it. Michelle is worried that they will flip out and thinks its a bad idea. Now, if I told Michelle not to do something because its a bad idea, she would just do it for spite. Just sayin'. I've spent the day checking out tattoos. I googled "should I get a tattoo?" in a Magic 8 Ball attempt for guidance. I even found an online Magic 8 Ball and asked. It said "definitely." I read all the same articles I read last summer about the pros and cons of tatts. The truth is, some people will always love them, and some people will hate them. I think they're almost always gorgeous. Oh, man. I can't wait for my next tattoo.

Thursday, August 20, 2009

The One with DIY Fun!

You might have seen fabric jewelry such as the jersey necklaces sold on Urban Outfitters. While they are slightly reminiscent of homeless chic, and vastly overpriced, a few crafty fabric bangles offer a handmade, homey charm for maybe $10 total of supplies. After emailing with Christina, I was encouraged to make a DIY tutorial to my fabric bangles. The following is my attempt to make super simple, unique fabric jewelry.
All You Need Is...
...love. And (from left) some undesirable plain bangles, cotton fabric of your choosing (I get mine from my mom's stash. I recommend buying a few fat quarters if you don't have an accommodating family member), scissors that can cut fabric, a ruler (not really necessary), paint brush or foam brush, craft tacky glue. (In case you aren't in JoAnn's Fabric Shop all the time like me, a fat quarter is roughly a quarter of a yard of fabric, pre-cut and folded. You don't need even a whole quarter, unless you want all your bracelets to match).
Step One
Cut a strip of fabric at about a one inch width. This strip is about 18 inches long, which is unnecessary. 14 inches should be more than enough length. I just eye ball the width and try to cut straight. I'm not a very precise crafter or artist. I'm also not patient. I never wait for paint to dry.
After That...
Apply tacky craft glue to the backside of fabric. I like to apply in a wavy line. Then, using the foam brush or paint brush, spread the glue over the fabric.
Then
Begin wrapping the fabric around the bracelet. If it is hard to get the beginning of the fabric to wrap, try wrapping the fabric directly on top of itself a few times, then begin wrapping the fabric continuously to the right. Make sure the glue doesn't dry out as you wrap! Reapply some fresh drops if necessary.
Just Keep Wrapping, Until...
When you're close to finishing, cut off any excess fabric. I didn't do this at first, and it made thicker bumps on the bracelet. It adds to its homey charm, but I prefer to make the fabric even. Dab a little extra glue on the underside of the end of the fabric and
Ta Daaaa!!!!!
Homespun, charming bracelet. A fabric bangle you can take pride in. There will probably be a slight ridge from the edge of the fabric. If you get any stray threads, just clip them. Don't pull them! This is my stack of completed fabric bangles. After the red example, I did a bunch more in the same fabric because its just so darn cute. I have 14. I thought that was all of my bangles, but I just found a few more, and there's no point in having three tarnished bangles when they could join a host of multicolored craftees. Start crafting!

Monday, August 10, 2009

The One Where I Rant about Indie Dudes

Its Monday. There will never be any picture of my outfit today, because it consists of a solid green knit top and black dress pants. And black ballet flats. No jewelry, no charming scarf. I stayed in bed till 7:53 am because I was trying to hold on to some shreds of a crazy dream I was having about Some Guy from Back in the Day. So I didn't feel like devoting any time to make a lasting fashion impression. I'm shocked I brushed my hair and washed my face. I'm not even wearing a bra, I'm wearing one of those camis with a shelf bra. Seriously, I don't even remember putting it on... wtf? Poor judgement call. And I'm STILL wearing glasses, but my contacts just came in, so hopefully I can pick them up asap and start wearing my knock off wayfarers outdoors and indoors. Okay so these are some of my outfits from last week. Woohoo! Black Cardigan (MILEY CERTIFIED) and blue bow flats from Walmart, Blue Leggins from Target , Pink Tank from Old Navy, Pink Scarf from Accessorize in Oxford, England, that also sold me a shitty bracelet that broke the same night. Thanks alot, Oxford!
White dress (actually, my high school graduation sundress!) and black tank from Old Navy
Black (MILEY CERTIFIED) stirrup leggins, silver interlocking bangles, and purple print scarf from Walmart
Cardigan from BCBG Max Azria (who stooped to work with Miley the demon spawn, wtf?)
Black patent heels from Payless

This is easy. Everything is from Old Navy.

Except the boots, which are from a store in London called Schuh (It was like a grown up Journeys). And the key necklace is from Fossil.

And I admit that I wore some sweet outfits this weekend, including some of my goodwill plaid and my good luck thrifting shoes, but I didn't take pictures, cause I was out doing things, which happens once a month usually. This weekend was super successful, on a thrift shopping front. Meliss the Wonderful and I cruised the antique stores and thrift shops, and I returned with a great haul, and some left over subway, yo!

I scored a Fiesta Ware yellow pitcher that I dream of serving lemonade with. And maybe Dirty Shirleys (shirlies?). I also brought home a cute little wing pin (I'm trying to put pins into my wardrobe), some vintage alcoholic beverage glassware, a Miss Dior train case (!!! I think it originally must have been a perfume gift set, but for $2!!!), a 50 cent rainbow mug, and a handful of used books, including siddhartha and mister popper's penguins. Life is good. But the best part had to be landing a $12 jewelry box, right after I had been saying, omg, my jewelry is a mess I need a tackle box for it. This, my dears, is so much better. I vented some emotional angst on Sunday afternoon by painting it white and jamming to some of my songs of summer. aka "Like a Prayer" by Madonna and "Total Eclipse of the Heart." Next up I'm gonna multi-media collage the crap out of it and then modge podge it to death. Woo! In other news, I've been coveting a gray body con dress from Dorothy Perkins. Its on sale, and shipping isn't nearly as terrible as those danish bitches. But I still can't imagine ordering clothes from a different country, unless they're made of unicorn or something. But anywho, I would totally pair this with the dress:

Yeah, I definitely could use a sequined men's blazer.

Oh yeah, I wanted to complain about something (whatevs, get over it, its my blog I can totally complain). I have a not-so-secret love for the hilarity of boner party. And I like looking at hot chicks too. Especially since bp shares my love of zooey deschanel, the little indie goddess that she is. And today, being bored, I decided to go all the way back and start at the beginning of bp's archives. I don't have anything better to do, y'know? After snickering at the snarky observances and their dreams to smoke a bowl with pretty much every girl in the universe, I started to get irritated by the constant referrences to "finding an 8" (offensive all on its own for ranking women, but I don't want to sound like a feminazi) and all this whining and whining about how there aren't good wifey material indie chicks out there. Like, seriously. I'm probably just sensitive to all this because I spent the last year hanging out with indie dudes. Are they all the same??? They all seem to have heavy emotional damage to blame on some terrible ex-girlfriend, a love of chicks with bangs, and a drinking/weed problem. Listen up, bp. I've made out with 2 different over-opinionated dudes that wanted the same vonnegut tattoo. so it goes, right? I know indie dudes. I get all the obscure literature and movie references. And I let you pick the music that sometimes doesn't sound like music at all. Just stop whining for Christ's sake! Indie dudes are so tortured/idealistic. On the flip side, all I ever do is whine about the lack of satisfying indie dudes and why did I choose to go to a lame-ass conservative Christian college and how did my high school me not realize once I got out of the hometown I would want to go to an art school in a city somewhere and smoke a bunch of ciggs and hang out with indie guys? Maybe I'll make a new tumblr of just hot indie guys and I'll rank them and complain about how no indie dudes stumble to my door in the middle of the night, cold, wet, and amnesia-ridden. Anyway, bp, we're probably soul mates. I have a really good track record with indie guys who smoke up a lot and whose exes left them with a serious need for therapy. Call me!