Recently I've been looking for shoes to get married in, but I just found these Robert Clergerie "Fosca" platforms, and I'm pretty confident I'd ACTUALLY MARRY THEM.
I'd pretty much just put them on my table and stare at them while I ate breakfast. Who am I kidding? I never eat breakfast, and when I do, it's on the couch.
Inspired by my Harajuku Lovers handbags post, I went on a small LeSportsac Windows shopping binge. Here are some of the fun, less-common stilos, shapes, and sizes that I netted at some non-morts prices!
Love the '60s sorta-Pucci-looking zigzags here. They're not as obviously cutesy LeSportsac as a lot of the rest of their bags, even though I love some cutesiness too!
Likewise, I totally disapprove of this corduroy/patchwork/evil tree monstrosity. Because there is enough disapproval to go around! Let's just stick with the hedgehog back, shall we?
I never grew up wealthy or preppy (oh but how I am SO both now!) but back in the day, when I was a kid in Cleveland, my middle-middle-class family managed to have a small power boat. A boat, in Cleveland, of all places. I used to hate going for rides on it -- all that choppy rocking, the frizz-inducing mist, peeing in a scary toilet that didn't flush. All that shit freaked me out. Then the Bush I recession hit (like father, like son), and we got rid of the boat -- ironically enough -- before we moved to boat-friendly Florida and then Virginia. Now that I am old enough to appreciate the things I didn't appreciate when I was little, I realize how nice it'd be to have nautical access, if only just for the outfits and cocktails. Maybe that's why I, like Fashionista, am sort of currently into the idea of boat shoes for summer footwear. Eek!
The absolute classics. Sure, they get sorta gnarly when you wear them all summer with no socks, but that's sort of the appeal. And they look cool when they've faded and get shiny and worn.
Vans has, for some reason, gone prepster too with their take on boat shoes -- and a nice, femmey take, it is too. I'm sure somewhere, some dude in a ratty Vision tee, clinging to his Kurt Cobain haircut, is gently weeping.
In January, I used my awesome powers of prescience to predict that mocs would be on the move this spring. And I THINK I WAS RIGHT! Why? Um, because it's SPRING and I'm about to BUY these!
I honestly didn't think that I was fashion snob. As much as I enjoy the art, sport and science of shopping, I mainly love the thrill of a good bargain hunt. I'm the first to blurt out that my I got my awesome Marc Jacobs denim skirt for just $45 at Loehman's (so good it hurts!); I found an amazing Laundry skirt at shitty discount home goods store on 145th Street, and I've owned more pre-worn clothing than your average Goodwill. I always just thought I a.) enjoy spending, b.) have a decent eye for style and c.) have very specific yet far-reaching tastes. God knows I don't have enough money to be a fashion snob, though if I ever awoke in the middle of the night to find that a million-dollar tree had sprouted up through my floor boards, perhaps I'd find the time to take up fashion snobbery as a fun pastime. But... perhaps I should rethink my halo effected-declaration, because I almost started to weep when I saw what ranked amongst the top 100 best-selling items in Amazon's apparel category. The rankings refresh about once an hour. Here are just a few examples I found over about two hours:
($11, Tommy Hilfiger, Amazon) Number 82, people. I guess it's a half step up from those deplorable Tommy flag logo shirts. Actually, more like a quarter step.
($6, Soffe, Amazon) #83. They're referred to as cheerleading shorts. Uhh... It's hard for me to distinguish which is worse: these shorts, or cheerleading.
($34, Amazon) What's worse than asymmetrical chiffon ruffles? Cheerleading maybe? Maybe. That's number fucking FORTY-SIX, by the way.
($39, Aimee, Amazon) This is a nursing gown. A bra-less nursing gown. Now, peeps, I've never nursed, yet I understand the freedom of free-ballin. But still. Having a kid is NO excuse for wearing such an ugly piece of drek. It might as well come with stains down the front, just to save you the time.
($15, Amazon) Crotchless panties, people. CROTCHLESS. To go with your bra-less gown, I guess? What the FUCK is going on here??? Seriously?
And you gotta love this reviewer's wise words: I have never, ever before had on a pair of crotchless panties and I have to say that I liked it. Mostly I don't wear panties, unless I'm wearing a dress or a skirt and sometimes even then I don't. I just like the freedom. But these, these are cute as can be and it's like you don't have anything on at all. At least that's's (sic) the way it feels. And they are darn beautiful. Darn beautiful. The discovery of these panties have really made this lingerie party for me.
A lingerie party???? Really? Is that really what you mean? Or do you really just mean a fucking TRASH FEST? Yeah. I think that's what you actually meant. You and the 18 bazillion other renobs who bought enough of these travesties to make them the 68th most popular article of clothing on Amazon.
($17, Amazon) Congratulations. This is the 100th worst piece of crap EVERYONE bought on Amazon. And $17 isn't much to pay to advertise your simple mindedness!
($12, Rick Steves, Amazon) I pass through Times Square every day. I believe this one.
By the way. The list also consists of seven DIFFERENT pairs of Crocs, two pairs of men's pleated chinos, and more than one pair of "relaxed fit" jeans. Even the one designer item was this piece of dogshit by Prada:
I will say there was some cute baby stuff. At least we're dressing future generations better than ourselves.
Please, someone tell me that there's some psychosocial study out there that proves that the incidence of bad style choices skyrocket when a Republican is in office.
Okay. I'm off to go be depressed and to make peace with the fact that if being a fashion snob is wrong, I don't wanna be right. At this point I think my thoughts would best be expressed by two videos by David Bowie and Rufus Wainwright, that best sum up my fear of and disappointment in my own people: