Archive for clothes & fashion


i’m still here, you know. i know some people read this every day and i’m sorry i am a bad blogger (friend? i’d like to think we are friends).

my life is so hectic right now, and yet nothing has changed except my job status, i now own a pair of very uncomfortable spanx, and i have put way more things into my vagina and ass since last time we talked.

oh yeah, i guess i officially have no shame. before it was like, “OMG, does she have no shame?” and now it’s like “SHE HAS NO SHAME!” but i don’t care because it’s a living. i feel like i am being more true to myself than ever. wait, i just realized that sounds like i am totally a prostitute. i’m not, even though it would be completely valid and okay if i was (but probably not okay with joe). actually,  as i mentioned, i work in a sex shop now.

it has taken over much of my life and i cannot figure out how to write about it, or even how to fit writing into my daily life other than the writing i do for work. writing about working and it’s many pains is one of my favorite things to do, but right now i love my job, and to write too candidly about it would be betraying a certain trust. i feel like it can, or must, be done for the survival of this blog, but i have yet to figure it all out.

anyway, re: the spanx, i only bought them because i had to go to a wedding. normally i shun spanx and other control top hosiery because, while we can all use a nip in the tum, i don’t really like restraining my bubble butt. it’s one of my few physical features i actually like, and although it seems to get flatter with age and weight gain, i still try to flaunt it as much as possible. i always thought they should make those things assless. the other reason i hate them is that they tend to roll down at the waist band, which, instead of a flat surface, bisects the tummy area and creates TWO distinct rolls. unsexy.

i decided to give these a go because i really needed a smooth back silhouette for the thin fabric of my dress, and these particular spanx promised to be high-waisted, thereby doing away with waist-roll and smoothing all the way up to the bra line. well, they work. the reason they work is that an ULTRA TIGHT band at the top goes around your ribs. it took me about 10 minutes to get them on and the whole time i was wearing them, i literally could hear my bones straining. now, three days later, i still have bruises on my ribs. i ended up taking them off halfway through the wedding because after the second time of having to painfully remove them and squeeze them back on to use the toilet, i was done.

i wish i could say that i am totally done with this torture device, but alas, i feel like they could come in handy at some point. plus, and i didn’t notice this until i took them off, the crotch is actually open. there are like, two overlapping flaps instead of solid fabric. could this convenient hole be what i think it is? probably not, but i’d be lying if i said i’m not entertaining the idea.

swimwear scare

so this will more than likely be my last post before dinah shore. there have been numerous bumps in the road on the way to getting me there, and surely i will encounter many more, but i am looking forward to this lesbian spiritual journey.

oh, and by “looking forward to,” i mean “in a state of absolute panic about,” as that is my nature.

although this weekend is set to be the first time i have appeared in a bathing suit since 1989, i had virtually abandoned the fear of looking like a beached whale in public because a) many women there will be terrifying mullet lesbians in cargo shorts and i don’t really care what they think, b) while i do care what my friends think, i figure if they do think any cruel thoughts, they will be nice enough to keep them inside, c) i have a boyfriend waiting at home who loves me and thinks my body is beautiful, and finally, c) a more accurate description of the garment in question, as opposed to “bathing suit” would probably be large, black tent.

in fact, i could have probably saved a healthy penny if i just skipped the chase and went straight to home depot, but as luck would have it, i spied a decent-looking impostor of swim garb during that fateful trip i took with my mother to kohls. it is actually kind of cute in a retro fat lady way, black with brown polka dots, a tie at the chest, and a little skirt. i’m so self-conscious i normally don’t even bother with bathing suits and just wear little shorts and a tank, but i have been to a few pools where they won’t let you swim that way and i didn’t want to take any risks. sometimes i just sit in the sun and don’t swim, but in palm springs i will need to get in the water!

well, if you were reading closely, you would know that although i previously decided not to be apprehensive about this bathing suit business, i am now kind of really dreading the whole thing. i officially haven’t been as fat as i am now in two years and i don’t really know what to do with myself. i still feel the same most of the time, and it’s only when i am trying to get into some of my older clothes or see myself in a photo that i realize things have changed. still, i don’t know if i can really relax in public in a bathing suit, albeit the worlds’ least-revealing, least-sexy one.

UrbanoutfittersBathing_suitsometimes it is sexier to leave things to the imagination, but i think people who say that one-piece bathing suits are sexier than bikinis have the picture on the left in mind, while my bathing suit looks a little more similar to the one on the right. oh dear god, what have i got myself into? my road to a healthier weight and body (thanks queen latifah for the inspiration!) is well underway, but i don’t feel good about how i look at all right now. is it really the best time to go on a vacation that will include thousands of half-naked lesbians? probably not, but there is no turning back now.

well, goodbye for now dear readers. wish me luck! i will return with tons of photos and hopefully lots of great stories to tell.

Gay Sex and the Failure Forest

as you all probably know, there are few things i enjoy more than ranting about things i have limited information about. it makes the rant far more belligerent and ill-advised, two concepts upon which i believe humor might just be based.

anyway, today my subject of choice is the new series set to air on NBC called “lipstick jungle” (preview video behind the cut at the end of the post). it is based on a book by the author of “sex and the city,” which, as we all know, is tv legend, in a way. to understand where i am going with this, you must first understand my feelings on “sex and the city.”

SATC, in my opinion, was an extraordinarily offensive television show. it is, however, tolerable to me for only 3 reasons.

1) it is a classic. much like a time-honored racist, sexist story we still read/show to our children (disney’s peter pan, for example), it will continue to be adored and accepted by many even after the advancement of women makes shows of its variety a small blip in our feminist history (am i being wishful?)

2) despite the deplorability of some of the characters (more later) the choice of actors and their performances were phenomenal.

3) for the love of bloody hell, i cannot tear my eyes away when it’s on!!!!

a) the clothes! the shoes! good or bad, the parade of fine fashions is addicting.
b) the breasts. the naked breasts.
c) for a show about straight ladies, it could not have been any GAYER.
d) the poorly-written dialogue they give the carrie character is super funny, between cringes.
e) sometimes… it just speaks to me.

look, i love that show as much as the next girl, i’ll admit it. the problem is, that love came only after i could get over the fact that, at least the carrie character, is totally demeaning and insulting to intelligent women everywhere and that the show’s stylists were simply never going to stop putting her in belly shirts, no matter what the mandates of fashion prescribe.

Satcas we all sit in anticipation of the “sex and the city” movie, we are offered “lipstick jungle” to chew on for the time being. here is my problem: i can already tell this is going to suck. first of all, it’s on network television, which means NO BOOBIES. lame. secondly, at least from the ads, there does not appear to really be a “quirky” carrie-like character. for all her bad dialogue and penchant for falling in love with her abusers, carrie was the heart and soul of that show. if not for her neurotic asides, then for her kooky hats and bags. by god, without her it would have just been a soap opera about a pointy-nosed prude/ho with daddy issues, an inexplicably misanthropic closeted lesbian with bad hair, and an older broad with a bangin’ body who would do it with just about anyone… wait, that show still sounds good! that’s my point, i guess. the characters were probably well-written in the first place (i dunno, i never read the book. this is the part where i don’t know what i’m talking about), but also, you can really tell how much the actors brought to the table. the casting choices for carrie, charlotte, miranda, and samantha were fucking awesome. i honestly feel like so much has changed in the industry (for the worse) since that show began, that, if it were to be casted today, there might be much less-interesting types of women in those roles, and that would be sad.

i am sick and tired of watching shows on tv about women where the women look exactly the same. it is boring. the other night i was watching “law and order: svu” aka my reason for owning a tv, and there were not one but TWO female actors in the episode with very obvious, hideous plastic surgery (not as part of the plot). wtf? are kids now going to grow up thinking that’s simply what women all look like? essentially, white ladies who look like they have been repeatedly dried-out and then re-hydrated like a soaked raisin? this is terrifying. i know tv is all about entertainment, but i don’t think it’s too much to ask to see some real people on there. not even reality shows have real people on them except for “the biggest loser” and those people are dying to change. not that there is anything wrong with being thin and white, but good heavens, give us options! and no more frightfaced, botoxed bitches!

Lipstickjungle_4oh, and by “options” i don’t mean the one that looks kinda asian-y on “lipstick jungle.” back to my point, i am dreading this show. it looks like such a boring mess with boring clothes and formulaic story lines about giving good blow jobs. obviously the simple solution is not to watch, but a combination of morbid curiosity and a real passion for self-inflicted punishment will certainly lead me to check it out. i read an article in one of the gossip magazines about how this is only one of THREE new shows coming out soon with a similar theme: wealthy “power” women shopping at saks and looking for love in the big city. i don’t know how much more of this i can handle. when are they going to make a show about women like me? middle-class fuck-ups who hunt thrift racks by day, haunt gay bars by night, and give great blow jobs to dildos.

WHEN? you know you’d watch.

» Read more..

clothes minded

luckily for me (and you) i have a lot of time on my hands lately to think about how annoying everything is. oh man, not having any money around this time of year is so depressing. don’t get me wrong, i know it could be worse, blah blah blah, you don’t read this blog for my astounding amount of social-awareness and grateful attitude, and you know it. all i’m saying, though, is that i hate that i am probably going to have to spend ANOTHER christmas with no money to buy presents for my family and friends, not to mention my lovely boyfriend. ugh, it almost makes me glad i still haven’t set up my plastic surgery savings because then i would probably be dipping into if for things like “emergencies.” better to be completely broke than wasting my eyebrow lift money on food and tampons.

the impending holidays, my recent extreme weight gain, and unemployment have led me back onto the path of rage drinking. when i drink like this, i seriously have no control over my mouth and i seem to forget who my real friends are and who i can trust and it gets me into trouble. all i want to do is have a laugh, but i usually end up falling asleep in a blind, drunken rage. wha? no more. i am limiting myself to three drinks a night when i go out, including beers. also, i am going on a diet. i was toying with the idea of becoming fat-positive and trying to love myself as i am, but three things have stopped me dead in my tracks: 1) thigh chafing. GOOD LORD. i lost “the weight” (i love when people say that) so long ago, i forgot what this was like. ouch. i mean, it’s not like i am fixing to start any major fires under my pencil skirt, but there’s a rub and it is not pleasant. 2) i am too broke to afford a new wardrobe, and all my clothes are getting too tight. last winter i was considering having my favorite slacks tailored because they are just so lovely, but they literally were falling off me, looked sloppy, and i couldn’t wear them without a belt. today, they fit like a second skin, and not in a good way. 3) i am working on a top secret film project and i had to see myself on film today. i looked absolutely fucking HUGE! it was all i could do not to weep openly right there in front of the camera crew. wtf?

i also realized that my face looks terrible when it moves and that my voice is really weird and annoying. it’s a good thing i deal primarily in print, because sweet jesus! ugh. i am going to start practicing faces in front of a mirror a la “america’s next top model” and take some voice lessons. this combined with the weight loss i am expecting from my new diet (dubbed “the lettuce/mustard diet” because that’s all i am going to eat), i should be skyrocketing to superstardom in no time. i will post the info on super-top secret video project #1 as soon as i can.

now, i know i complain a lot about how i look and that probably gets pretty old. i was going to try and make myself feel better by writing a post about how badly everyone is dressing now and how everyone looks the same and it makes me want to cry, but then i realized that i am way above that. not because i found out that the true secret is tolerance and it’s what’s inside that counts, but because bad fashion actually makes me feel WORSE in general, even if it makes those of us who know how to dress look better. it is just really depressing and wears me out. i feel weak and tired even thinking about this girl i saw at ikea the other day….

but i will save that one for next time. until then, i love you all. i will leave you with this: when the line between “hipster” and “safari leader” gets this fine, it’s every man for himself. it’s a jungle out there.

notes on the fall

as you probably know, my lack of blog entries lately and the fact that i have pretty much fallen off the face of the earth is due to a plethora of preoccupations you could care less about. given that you somehow knew that, i am going to assume that you are a regular Failure Princess reader and are fully aware that i am going to tell you what some of them are anyway.

1) things at work have been pretty darn sweet. the girl who was pretty much my supervisor/buffer between me and the boss/officemate/hardworking, competant, goodtime gal completely walked out a few Officehandweeks ago with no notice after two years of working there. this was directly following an incident in which our boss screamed at her. as you can imagine, this has done wonders for morale around the office and for my stress levels. it’s not so much that a bunch of extra work is falling onto me, but that there are suddenly new people in the office that i have to train and talk to all the time when i barely have all my training done and hate talking to people at work. the good that has come out of this is that for some reason our boss decided to finally spring for real office chairs (with wheels and adjustable arm rests!) and new mouse pads (with gel wrist cushions and a leather-like covering. i feel like a princess!) i dunno guys, what’s next, electric staplers??? if that really happens i might just have to start paying HIM. oh man.

2) it’s true, i have fallen in love. i have been “subtly” suggesting that in my most recent entries, so i won’t mention much about it again, but let me just say that it is doing crazy things to my brain. i have come down with a gnarly case of what i can only describe as baby fever. Bananakidthat’s RIGHT, you heard it here first. the only reason i can be so calm about it now is because everyone i have talked to about it has said it’s a being in a new relationship/being in my mid-late 20s thing and it will go away soon. i sure as shit hope so because this is getting disturbing. today i was waking by the park and some parents were putting their screaming, crying five year-old in the car and a looked over and involuntarily said “aw, poor little tired guy.” WTFFFFF???? intellectually, i realize that there is no excuse for that kind of public outburst and that kid should be ashamed for allowing his weakness to show, but in that moment i just wanted to hug him. hellllp meeeeee.

3) fall is fast approaching. look, i don’t care what anyone says, we TOTALLY have seasons in l.a. in a few days, the glorious autumnal glow will be upon us, and i for one am excited. maybe the leaves don’t set the sky and streets ablaze with color, but the air turns crisp and you can just feel it and smell it and i love it. first there is back to school shopping. i plan to partake in that, despite my lack of interest in furthering my education. i looove school supplies. bring on the economy packs of pens and composition books, oh hell yes! also in fall is my favorite holiday, halloween, which i also sometimes like to call “drinking christmas” because christmas is my other favorite holiday, but i don’t get to get drunk on christmas. i still haven’t thought up my costume, though, and that is a real bummer. usually i am on that shit by about july. anyways, i’m pretty into fall fashion as well. i love how every year they come out with “new” fall fashions but really they are recycled menswear looks and ripoffs of my catholic high school uniform. OMG, Uglyhmshoesi saw these hideous shoes at h&m a few weeks ago and got mega-depressed because a) ugly makes me sad, b) the 90s are officially back, and c) europe clearly hates us. why else would they sell these shoes this close to the streets of pasadena, where they could so easily fall into the wrong hands and hurt someone (my eyes). maybe some hot, finnish supermodel with pink, pillowy lips and four-foot legs wearing a silver pinafore could pull this off, but i can guarantee you there is not one single person who fits that description in the san gabriel valley or surrounding areas. geez! i’m sticking to my usual autumn essentials: tights under everything, colorful, often ironic sweaters, and classic early-mid 80s boots. i am toying with the idea of accepting the 90s revival and rocking the ripped tights, but i am afraid this might remind me too much of high school and i might start writing in my journal with my own blood again, so i dunno about that one.

well, folks, it’s late, and this has taken me entirely too long to write. i am creaky and out of practice. i wish i could find a job where i could just sit and write all day and when i’m not writing i could be thinking about writing or sex. instead, today at work i had no time to daydream so i frantically made UPS labels all the while consuming at least 10 halloween oreo cookies, which feature orange-colored cream filling and four fun halloween designs right on the cookie. what have i become? i am my own worst enemy. it’s okay though, because this has been one of the best/most interesting years of my life and i plan on ending it on a good note, at least to the best of my abilities. i am formulating a plan. diet and otherwise. starting with tomorrow, as i am getting a pedicure after work to remind myself how great it is that i can still see my feet. hopefully that will light a fire under my ass.

until next time….


i am dying. i just chatted with amy next top mess for like, three hours and we both have the same problem where we are like, sooo tired in the early eve then UP late.

i was seriously up SO LATE last night and then awakened (however pleasantly) super early plus my whole body is sore and i am covered in hickies and bruises to a degree where i honestly feel like i fell down a flight of stairs. i mean, you know, multiple orgasm stairs, but still. anyways, then i had to work today and it sucked and then i was just running around all busy-headed as usual AND THEN i ate spaghetti-o’s (don’t ask) and passed the fuck out for twenty minutes while doing laundry at ajai/tina’s. now i’m here on my last night of house sitting with this little kitty that bites, stressing out because i semi-blacked out on friday night and remember very little except the great “pronunciation of Huntington Beach” argument i was having with some OC locals (which, btw, IS “hun-ting-ton,” technically, as i was arguing. jesus!), spent way too much money this weekend and won’t get paid again until two weeks from today because of this wacky pay period, desperately need a pedicure, and really wish i didn’t have to have a day job.

my job is soooo not a big deal (yet, anyway, i have more training/responsibilities on the way) but look what time it is… i just wish i didn’t have to go to work in the morning. how in gods name am i going to get hired as a General Wit? who is going to create that position and pay me for it? someone who went to college, probably! damnit.

i dunno, though, maybe that’s not the job for me. i keep thinking of clever ideas for stuff and then forgetting them almost immediately. i haven’t even been drinking that much lately (except weds, thurs, friday, saturday, and monday). whatever, i swear, except friday which was a horrible misstep, i have been doing alright-ish. i wasn’t nearly as hammered as everyone else on saturday. of course, that might be because i stuffed my face with every one of the at least four varieties of couscous salads available at that bbq i went to. lesbians heart steamed grain medleys, apparently.

1990s_14i officially hate the nineties. i know a lot of people hate the nineties because they had so little character and a bunch of dumb stuff happened and kurt cobain died, blah blah blah, but honestly, i find nineties fashion downright offensive. not just because it was hideous, because anyone could make that assessment and be utterly spot-on, but because of the lasting scar it has left on those who were in their late teens and early twenties in the early-mid nineties. now, before my (four) thirty-something friends call me in anger, there are obvious exceptions to this rule. my friend vanessa (of curl girls, lol, let the google hits begin) is one of the most stylish dressers i know. all i’m saying is that for the most part, it seems like a lot of those of that age have never quite been able to escape the specter of that era of fashion. how many times, HOW MANY TIMES have a seen a woman in this age bracket dressed in perfectly semi-acceptable clothing only to look down and spy a pair of 90s chunky heels? seriously, i don’t know why anyone would be that mean to anyone else’s eyes, but it seems that things were just like that in the 90s. i mean, i was there too, i wore many of those fashions, but luckily, as a young teen, i was able to get it out of my system. plus by the late 90s, i had joined the early guard of 80s nostalgists who would come to lay ruin to the fashion creativity of the teens of the mid-late 00s. it is difficult being admired and imitated, but it is honorable. well, kind of.

so, my point, and i do have one, is that this is all very depressing. is this what getting old(er) is all about? being really fucking cool in high school, at the height of fashion, the hottest contempo casuals teen around, then ending up in a tie-back, floral shirt and sketchers drinking beers at a bar in downtown wherever the fuck? or ending up in shitty sunglasses, online dating girls who practice modern day wicca or believe in faeries, and talking about how it’s called “hair product” now with your buddies? being stuck in the fashion glory of your high school years and therefore in the same place socially/culturally as well?

where is that going to leave me? not only was i not cool in school enough to be a hip girl, but i wasn’t even Breakfastclubcool enough to be a frowned-upon bad-girl outcast. if we were in “the breakfast club,” i would definitely be ally sheedy, and not because she is the hot gay-looking one who lies a lot, but because she was a fucking mess no one really noticed. okay, that was a LIE, i was really popular in high school, but i did dress like her character in that movie kind of. omg, i am totally going to start wearing more greys and browns again!

wait, what were we talking about?

fashion, fags, and full lips

i decided that since this is a holiday weekend i could take some time off and not write anything. the trouble is i am grumpy and restless, which makes me want to write. that, and after friday night at akbar i have decided that i am boycotting holiday weekends from this day forward.

we all know going out on the weekends in l.a. is risky biz because of the hideous weekend warriors, but akbar has come to be my solace from that. pretty much the same people go there every weekend, they are all gay, and i am usually too wasted and dancing with my friends so i don’t care anyway. but my god, my god, friday night was a cruel, eye-opening journey into the reality of most bars on any given weekend… in the valley. i don’t know what was going on, but everyone except our group looked terrible. there were more straight people there than ever and none of them looked like they were from anywhere around here. there were girls in ill-fitting, light wash flared jeans, printed tunics, and bad highlights as far as the eye could see. i even spied a crocheted shawl in the crowd. all that and i was SOBER. it was all i could do to keep from openly weeping on the dance floor. never again, i swear.

okay, just for the sensitive folks, i want to make it clear that i have nothing against straight people. i’m just saying that when i go to a gay (man) bar, i expect to be surrounded by well-dressed fags, a smattering of hags, and a handful or two of lesbians. on that note, the gspot (gauntlet/eagle) wednesday girl nights are seemingly in danger of being overrun by men. this is irritating, and borderline offensive. those guys get that bar all week, why do they have to show up on our night, hog both restrooms, and touch us inappropriately thinking it’s okay because they are gay? gross. i don’t know who to complain to, but i am going to complain.

as i mentioned earlier, i am extremely on edge right now. i feel like this has mostly to do with the fact that i hate my shitty job, am exhausted all the time, have no money to pay my rent, and… well, there is some other stuff.

BUT, the good news is, i have good news. i am holding off on reporting it until i can get all the facts straight, but let me just tell you, things are looking up.

i just wish i could have a bunch of money RIGHT now. it makes me sad that i am still going to have to wait god knows how long before i can afford plastic surgery. omg, i just spent, like, an hour online researching procedures. i think my last few scraps of self-acceptance have finally melted away. at this point pretty much the only surgery i don’t want is labiaplasty. this makes no sense to me. i have researched it a bit and am still so skeptical. the link i posted has a bunch of before and after pics, but they just aren’t very convincing. only a few of the women look even remotely abnormal, if one can say that at all. the website says some women have to get it because their large labia minora interfere with sexual intercourse… okay, fine, maybe. but it also says they can interfere with the comfort of wearing tight pants. the simple solution to that, if you ask me, is this wonderful, magic helper we like to call underpants. the main point that particular website seems to be driving home, though, is the utter EMBARRASSMENT of large or uneven labia minora or large labia majora.

look people, i am going to be straight with you right here and now, i have “healthy” sized labia majora and uneven labia minora and i have no problem with it what-so-ever. in fact, i have been told on multiple occasions by more than a few people (okay, more like exactly a few) that i have a fantastic pussy. i don’t hate on girls with tiny or no outer lips, but i have never thought that looked “normal” per se. furthermore, i have had the “uneven” inner lips conversation with countless friends of mine, and i don’t think one single girl has said she doesn’t have one side larger than the other. my right side is slightly larger, and i will have you know, that little piece of skin is extra-sensitive and loves attention, a matter upon which no one has ever complained. ever.

and so it is in closing that i would like to say we must be thankful for life’s small blessings. today i am thankful for the fact that i have happened upon one part of my body i wouldn’t sell a kidney to afford to have surgically altered. well, that and the invention of dark denim. what kind of jeans did fashionable people wear at night before dark denim? i hope to never find out, i honestly don’t want to know!

old clothes, new cokes

as a woman whose main talents include picking up things with my toes, thrift store shopping, and writing clever myspace comments, you can understand that i will jump at any opportunity to use one of said talents to prove myself useful.

today was no exception. i went on a rare solo expedition to st. vincent de paul thrift store which is, in the words of my reality t.v. co-star, the costco of thrift stores. it is huge and daunting and if you go on the wrong day, picked over by ravenous hipsters. i don’t like going there by myself because there are no changing rooms and i like to have someone around to spot me while i try on clothes. the last thing you want to do is flash some poor, old, mexican grandma your thong. i mean, i hope it is, perv.

anyway, this was the best thrifting day i have had in a while! i found so many good things, including tops and usually i have bad luck with tops. i have a keen eye and sense for a good thrifting find, and love the thrill of the hunt. i have been starting to worry that i am getting old and losing my mojo, but today i proved that no nineteen year-old hip chickie is any match for me, as they ogled me and my finds in line to pay. what a rush! also, as luck would have it, over 90% of the stuff i happened to pick out was half-off ticket items of the week. what a day. i felt like clicking my heels as i walked out of that place.

i sure wish my camera wasn’t still battery-free so i could post some pics. i will later though, i promise.

OMG, one other thing, i am so so so excited about new diet coke plus vitamins and minerals. i’m not making that up, it’s real. it’s new. i need to have it. i am basically addicted to diet coke, like, crackhead style, and this is going to enrich my life in ways untold! i am hoping the vitamins and minerals will negate the carcinogens in the aspartame.

now when oh when will they figure out how to cram the powerful antioxidant benefits of the pomegranate into parliament lights….

notes on a sandal

will someone PLEASE explain sandals to me? this is a fashion mystery that has plagued me since the dawn of time (er, i mean, the mid-eighties). i get it… feet need to breathe, and we all love to show off a good pedi, but other than flip-flops, most sandals make no sense to me.

let’s review:

Plainflipflops400 first, we have the classic chanclas, or flip-flops. what do you think? i think these are comfortable and in many citcumstances, absolutely necessary. i remember when i was in high school coming into my own fashion-wise, i was confused because even though i thought i was hardcore and stylish, i still loved rocking the chanclas. i would wear my red spandex skirt, studded belt, and a hanes white t-shirt with a pair of flip-flops. i knew it wasn’t quite right, but i didn’t care. i assumed it was a california thing or maybe because i went to hippie schools early on and hated wearing shoes at all. so anyway, at that time i was hanging out with a bunch of kids who didn’t believe in wearing sandals, so i was torn. then, one summer all of the boys started wearing flip-flops. it was as if they had a beautiful revelation. you don’t have to be a frat boy to wear flip-flops, and in fact they look great with brown slacks and vintage t’s.

my favorite pair was always these ones from the seventies that had thick straps that were three colors, orange, yellow, and red, and a thick black sole with a white center that made it look like an ice-cream sandwich. yum. this brings us to our second question: platform flip-flops? Lilac_crystal_mini the answer is simple. the answer is NO. why won’t these totally go away? i don’t understand the constant desire people have to mess with a simple thing. pink camo? no. high-heeled timbaland boots? no. do you guys remember those hairbrushes from the early 90s with a spray bottle built into the handle? well, to that, i say YES! but that’s different. the year that uggs were first out and all over the place even during the summer, i had a brilliant plan to buy a cheap knockoff pair and cut them into sandals and wear my “UGG-flops” around town so that everyone in l.a. could see how ridiculous they were being, but i was too lazy to do it. maybe this year, since the trend refuses to die quietly. yes, i know they are comfy, no i don’t care.

Hikingsandal what about hiking sandals? okay, these are just an abomination. ever since i was a small child in hippie school and saw my first pair of these, i wondered what i did wrong for god to do this to my eyes. these are like the obnoxious cousin that the 250pxbirkenstocksbirkenstock will never introduce to his girlfriend. not cool. when i was in third grade, my mom bought me my first pair of “birks.” she bought a bunch of different styles and colors and insisted that i wear them. every kid at school mocked me incessantly. this was during my infamous two-year stint in public school on the hard streets of north san gabriel, so you can imagine… alright, it wasn’t that bad, but i was also fat and wore glasses, so it was just an unwelcome addition to my torment. okay, fast forward two years later when EVERY SINGLE kid in school had a pair. ugh. and i couldn’t even gloat because by then i had changed schools. still, i don’t love birkenstocks. they remind me of my mom, but she looks cute in them.

okay, so i think we can conclude that when it comes to sandals, simple is best. when you google the word “sandals,” well, the carribean resort comes up, but then you go to images and you see probably the most hideous pics ever. last summer i could not find anything i really liked. i liked some of the grecian styles, but most were over-priced and i liked the mexican ones (huaraches), but i saw those in the stupid urban outfitters catalog and that kind of killed it.

this year i am just going to rock these, all summer long! 65799_large_1

punk as fuck

on saturday night i was walking into a warehouse party in downtown l.a. with cheryl. we walked by some girls who were walking out and overheard one of them on the phone saying “um, we were just at this like, punk/skater party…” and we chuckled because we have been to that warehouse many times and know the guy who lives there. his friends are skaters, but most of his parties have been more of like “hipster” parties than punk, and these girls looked really young and kind of neo-goth, so we assumed they just had no idea what they were talking about,

well, we were mistaken my friends! this party WAS a punk party. the bands that were playing were punk bands (i guess, i don’t really know what that fucking means. it was loud and fast and the kids were a-moshin’) and the kids there were mostly “punks” with a few hipsters and the ever popular punksters (pipsters? hunks?). now, when i say “kids,” i’m not just being condescending here. most of them could not have been over 21-22 and a lot of them looked like they could have been 17-19. it’s hard for me to tell now because my eyes are so old. when i look in the mirror i think i look about 14 years old, so who knows.

anyway, i was checking these kids out and thinking, man, things are too easy for them. in my day, if you wanted to find anything cool to wear, you had to scour the alhambra salvation army, risking life and limb and the possibility of touching old man urine. with no dressing room. nowForever21_dress these girls just march right down to forever 21, pick out something with stripes and some flimsy aviator shades and call it a day. of course, i’m not saying in some ways that’s not progress. i don’t have a problem with the masses dressing better, in general. it’s just that when things look like watered-down versions of things that might be cool, i find it irksome. it’s not that it doesn’t look good, it just could look better.

i don’t know, it’s hard to explain. for me, fashion is a constant balance between looking effortless and discriminating. my thought process would be “okay, stripes, i like. shirt dress, check. the gathered front, very cute and sexy. but wait, something is wrong. does it look cheap? i mean, i like cheap, but will it make me look cheap? as if i put no effort into this, as if i bought it off a beach-bum in venice?” and the answer would be yes. even cute boots could not help this dress. it looks too mass-produced. i would not like everyone to know where i got my clothes. not that everything has to be one of a kind, but it should ideally look like it might be. unless you actually are going to the beach. or to bed.

plus, like i said, i know nothing really about punk, but i know this is not punk. the reason i am targeting the girls is not because i’m being catty, but because it seems that even among the young kids, hipsters and punks alike, the boys seem to get it right more easily. i mean, i have seen some pretty scary outfits on the hipster boys, but the amount of them who are dressing well seems to outnumber the girls. and it is no different with the punks. the boys keep it real with skinny jeans and a hoodie, but the girls are wearing the above dress. again, not dissing the dress, just the sentiment. it was weird seeing what looked like a huge pack of mall girls in the smoky, sweaty, punk music-blasting warehouse. and the accessories… and shoes… i am an old fart. my heyday has passed, i suppose. there was a time when i would literally not be caught dead in Forever 21 and i would only enter Urban Outfitters in an elaborate disguise. now, my favorite jeans are F21 and my favorite lampshade is from U.O. but that’s just cause i am poor.


NOT punk just because it is cheap and “distressed”.


actually almost MORE punk b/c it is subversively expensive.


punk as fuck.