A Moment with Kim: Actually, it's a Moment with Meghan and Half of TomKat
Alert Reader Meghan sent me a couple of pictures that I think you'll find very interesting.
This is a great cover. Kristy is truly paving some new fashion ground, Stacey is sporting some serious Mom Jeans, Mary Anne is actually wearing jean shorts that say I ♥ New York, and, uh . . . Dawn continues her embrace of the Texas Tuxedo. Mallory is trying the best she can, I suppose. I'm not even touching Jessi's attire. Done.
I think Claud is wearing oxfords, but it's kind of hard to tell, even on the actual book cover. She's got the signature side ponytail (red scrunchie). I feel like she's lowering herself by wearing the same shirt as Stacey "Mom Jeans" McGill, but I guess 13 year old girls do those things. Overall, it's an okay outfit - there's lots of jewelry involved, a plus in my book.
(oh, and "they're not sleeping until they see all of it"? What sort of time crunch are these girls on here? Ambitious, ladies. Real ambitious.)
And here's Katie Holmes and her broken spirit. Rocking a similar pair of cuffed denim shorts over black tights.
Meghan (who is in a band named Claudia and the Kishis, which is obviously the best band name ever) thought this outfit was missing a pair of lightbulb earrings.
I don't really know how to interpret this combination of items. I'm usually all about heels but they're kind of throwing everything off for me. And the stirrup tights certainly aren't helping. I don't care for the scarf either. I mean, it's a gray rectangle. Try again.
Presented with this scarf, Claudia would have looked up traditional Native American designs and beaded her way to greatness -- on a salary of $4 per hour.
Alert Reader Meghan sent me a couple of pictures that I think you'll find very interesting.
This is a great cover. Kristy is truly paving some new fashion ground, Stacey is sporting some serious Mom Jeans, Mary Anne is actually wearing jean shorts that say I ♥ New York, and, uh . . . Dawn continues her embrace of the Texas Tuxedo. Mallory is trying the best she can, I suppose. I'm not even touching Jessi's attire. Done.I think Claud is wearing oxfords, but it's kind of hard to tell, even on the actual book cover. She's got the signature side ponytail (red scrunchie). I feel like she's lowering herself by wearing the same shirt as Stacey "Mom Jeans" McGill, but I guess 13 year old girls do those things. Overall, it's an okay outfit - there's lots of jewelry involved, a plus in my book.
(oh, and "they're not sleeping until they see all of it"? What sort of time crunch are these girls on here? Ambitious, ladies. Real ambitious.)
And here's Katie Holmes and her broken spirit. Rocking a similar pair of cuffed denim shorts over black tights. Meghan (who is in a band named Claudia and the Kishis, which is obviously the best band name ever) thought this outfit was missing a pair of lightbulb earrings.
I don't really know how to interpret this combination of items. I'm usually all about heels but they're kind of throwing everything off for me. And the stirrup tights certainly aren't helping. I don't care for the scarf either. I mean, it's a gray rectangle. Try again.
Presented with this scarf, Claudia would have looked up traditional Native American designs and beaded her way to greatness -- on a salary of $4 per hour.
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#57: Dawn Saves the Planet
I can say - without hyperbole - that this is the greatest book in the history of the world.
Okay, maybe there is a tiny bit of hyperbole in that statement. But the ghostwriters really went to town here. Fashion! Self-righteousness! Minimal amounts of child involvement! Maximum amounts of the babysitters getting pissy*! Earrings made from paper clips!
Who could ask for more, really. So let's get right down to it, ladies and SO@24**.
"Mary Anne is sort of preppie when it comes to clothes. She wears pleated wool skirts and neat white blouses, stuff like that, while I have my own style of dress that my friends in the BSC call California Casual."
Oh, we know. Also, thanks to the prevalence of Gossip Girl in pop culture (I am thisclose to getting a straight male into the show, which I will count among my greatest life achievements), I can't even read the above sentence without picturing this. Blair Waldorf, why so fierce? Although she is about 63% less fierce this season, due to the fact that she cries, oh, 15 times per episode. (Have I talked about this before? I think I have, but whatever.) I mean, sure, I'd be sad too if I told Chuck Bass I loved him and he was basically like, "oh. Well, I love whiskey. Peace." but then I would remember that I was Blair Waldorf and I could buy all the Fryes in the world. (I would start with these. And these. . . . and these.) Duh. Suck it up, Waldorf!
"It's not hard to spot Claud. She dresses in ultra bright colors [M. M. I. I. A. A. M.I.A.] that look great with her jet black hair. She likes to wear outrageous earrings and hair ornaments that she makes herself."
We love her, Dawn. You, not so much. And where's the outfit description? Lame. Ghostwriter makes up for it with the following exchange, however:
"'Guess what?' I announced as I placed my lunch next to Claudia's. 'I'm going to save the planet.' [Ahh, the foolish optimism of youth.]
Claudia just blinked her dark eyes at me and said, 'It's about time.'"
Gold.
But then Ghostwriter angers me with some straight-up blasphemy: "Of all of us, I'd say Stacey is the coolest dresser." Oh would you, Schafer? That's it, you're out of the club.
And listen to this outfit. "Today [Stacey] was wearing floral leggings, a pink shirt with big sleeves [uh, okay], and a long vest covered in antique pins. A black fedora with a red cloth rose was perched on top of her shoulder length hair." Would Stacey really wear this? Come on! That is some Blossom territory right there.
Fun fact: Dawn wants us to know that "list-making always helps [her] decide about important issues", including who she's going to invite to a dance or what outfit she's going to wear for the first day of school.
I see.
Dawn irritates the shit out of everyone in this book and manages to alienate the entire middle school. She scolds Claudia for eating candy that's individually wrapped and Claudia just sarcastically salutes her, because Claudia is too fierce for Dawn's save-the-planet schtick. She's also probably still distracted by her dough earrings.
Really! Dough earrings! She plans to paint them and cover them in shellac!
"Leave it to Claudia to think of something clever like that. [Word.] Peering through the oven door, I could see little bits of dough shaped into dogs and cats."
I would shape them into peace signs.
Oh, and remember when I promised you crazy earrings? I couldn't have dreamed up anything better than this, even at my most caffeinated: paper clips, sequins, and ribbons.
She is so awesome.
* Stacey basically threatens to disown Dawn, to which I say: what took so long?
** Shout outs are how I roll.
Finalmente, shameless semi-selfish promotion time! My dear friend Courtney Summers' debut young adult novel, Cracked Up to Be, is in stores now. If the excerpt isn't enough to make you want to read it, perhaps you should know that the "Kim H." in the acknowledgments is THIS Kim H.! Yes, I have a last initial! Your world has been rocked!
(This entry has been brought to you by exclamation points, in case you couldn't tell. What can I say, I got a snake bracelet for Christmas and I'm still pretty psyched about it. Be jealous.)
I can say - without hyperbole - that this is the greatest book in the history of the world.
Okay, maybe there is a tiny bit of hyperbole in that statement. But the ghostwriters really went to town here. Fashion! Self-righteousness! Minimal amounts of child involvement! Maximum amounts of the babysitters getting pissy*! Earrings made from paper clips!
Who could ask for more, really. So let's get right down to it, ladies and SO@24**.
"Mary Anne is sort of preppie when it comes to clothes. She wears pleated wool skirts and neat white blouses, stuff like that, while I have my own style of dress that my friends in the BSC call California Casual."
Oh, we know. Also, thanks to the prevalence of Gossip Girl in pop culture (I am thisclose to getting a straight male into the show, which I will count among my greatest life achievements), I can't even read the above sentence without picturing this. Blair Waldorf, why so fierce? Although she is about 63% less fierce this season, due to the fact that she cries, oh, 15 times per episode. (Have I talked about this before? I think I have, but whatever.) I mean, sure, I'd be sad too if I told Chuck Bass I loved him and he was basically like, "oh. Well, I love whiskey. Peace." but then I would remember that I was Blair Waldorf and I could buy all the Fryes in the world. (I would start with these. And these. . . . and these.) Duh. Suck it up, Waldorf!
"It's not hard to spot Claud. She dresses in ultra bright colors [M. M. I. I. A. A. M.I.A.] that look great with her jet black hair. She likes to wear outrageous earrings and hair ornaments that she makes herself."
We love her, Dawn. You, not so much. And where's the outfit description? Lame. Ghostwriter makes up for it with the following exchange, however:
"'Guess what?' I announced as I placed my lunch next to Claudia's. 'I'm going to save the planet.' [Ahh, the foolish optimism of youth.]
Claudia just blinked her dark eyes at me and said, 'It's about time.'"
Gold.
But then Ghostwriter angers me with some straight-up blasphemy: "Of all of us, I'd say Stacey is the coolest dresser." Oh would you, Schafer? That's it, you're out of the club.
And listen to this outfit. "Today [Stacey] was wearing floral leggings, a pink shirt with big sleeves [uh, okay], and a long vest covered in antique pins. A black fedora with a red cloth rose was perched on top of her shoulder length hair." Would Stacey really wear this? Come on! That is some Blossom territory right there.
Fun fact: Dawn wants us to know that "list-making always helps [her] decide about important issues", including who she's going to invite to a dance or what outfit she's going to wear for the first day of school.
I see.
Dawn irritates the shit out of everyone in this book and manages to alienate the entire middle school. She scolds Claudia for eating candy that's individually wrapped and Claudia just sarcastically salutes her, because Claudia is too fierce for Dawn's save-the-planet schtick. She's also probably still distracted by her dough earrings.
Really! Dough earrings! She plans to paint them and cover them in shellac!
"Leave it to Claudia to think of something clever like that. [Word.] Peering through the oven door, I could see little bits of dough shaped into dogs and cats."
I would shape them into peace signs.
Oh, and remember when I promised you crazy earrings? I couldn't have dreamed up anything better than this, even at my most caffeinated: paper clips, sequins, and ribbons.
She is so awesome.
* Stacey basically threatens to disown Dawn, to which I say: what took so long?
** Shout outs are how I roll.
Finalmente, shameless semi-selfish promotion time! My dear friend Courtney Summers' debut young adult novel, Cracked Up to Be, is in stores now. If the excerpt isn't enough to make you want to read it, perhaps you should know that the "Kim H." in the acknowledgments is THIS Kim H.! Yes, I have a last initial! Your world has been rocked!
(This entry has been brought to you by exclamation points, in case you couldn't tell. What can I say, I got a snake bracelet for Christmas and I'm still pretty psyched about it. Be jealous.)
A Moment with Kim: Trying to out-Claudia Claudia & Gettin' Misty
Hey, wanna look at my jewelry?
(This totally counts as an entry. )
Maybe if I'm feeling magnanimous I'll include some actual BSC-related content towards the end [POST ENTRY EDIT: Don't get excited, this doesn't happen], but - honestly - this is just penance for teasing you with updates and then returning to Negligent Blogger status. I have some work to do at the library tonight, so I should probably just admit to myself now that my workstyle is 50% productivity/50% playing around on the internet and bring #63: Claudia'sFreind Friend with me. You will thank me later, Claudia even takes a moment to tell us her "closet rules." They include not wearing the same outfit twice, which I'm wondering how she manages on a babysitter's budget. Then again, I have spent the latter half of this year trapped inside a fashion spin cycle of LONG CARDIGANS ONLY PLEASE (bonus points for drape/scarf cardigans) and hence have not been all that creative with my rotation.
Do you guys do this, too? I mean, I have a closet and dresser full of clothes, but I'm only interested in wearing, oh, about 10 items. And then I get frustrated and donate bags of stuff to the Salvation Army and feel all self-satisfied ("around here our ambition throws a non-perishable item in a donation bin at Christmas / and it pats itself on the fucking back because it thinks it's done something decent" - Matthew Good, 21st Century Living) and THEN about two months later get all pissy at myself for donating the sweater that now I feel like I need desperately and can't live without.
Wait. We were talking jewelry, weren't we.
I mentioned that I am slowly morphing into Stacey McGill and will shortly leave the Babysitters Club to shoplift from Bellair's and get drunk at U4Me concerts. So why not try to redeem myself by showing you some rings and necklaces that are not tasteful, elegant, and totally New York Sophisticate? Also, I've recently "written" a Mental Entry (even though I am a Negligent Blogger, I do compose Mental Entries and then tend to forget their sheer genius by the time I am actually in front of a computer) ENTIRELY ABOUT SNAKE BRACELETS. Wait for it. It's gonna be legendary*.
I've also mentioned that I am a pretty predictable dresser these days. I mean, the jeans have always been predictable, although I am slowly filtering in some widelegs and flares (flares! I know!), because there are only so many days a week (11, by my count) that you can wear skinny jeans. But yeah, the cardigans. Oh, the cardigans, I love them so. At any rate, I redeem myself (at least, TO myself) by making sure that my shoes and jewelry, more often than not, is a little bit out there.
Of course, you may look at this stuff and be like "pssh. Where are the pipe cleaners? Where are the dollhouse chairs converted into earrings? Why do you only have one set of holes in your ears? Where are the telephone cord bracelets, for fuck's sake?" To that I say: whatever.
I'm not going to bother going through piece by piece and telling you origins and why this particular ring/necklace/set of earrings reflects the unique intricacies of my very soul (but they all do, trust me), because I understand that you probably don't really care that much. Instead I'll just drop a note or two.
Above we have my earrings. My collection is pretty small because there was about a decade in which I gave up on wearing earrings because my ears were so damn sensitive. I'm not sure if I'm getting more xhardcorex with age, but suddenly they don't really give me issues anymore. So I'm gleefully dangling miniature baskets of fruit and whatnot. My favorites are the beaded hoops & the silver feathers. And yeah, the cranberry-colored pendant earrings DO say peace around the edges and feature a heart/peace sign on the backsides. What of it? I am embracing my inner Dawn Schafer. And my pseudo-bohemian image involves jewelry featuring peace signs. I really want these earrings, but they're massively heavy and the catch is extremely difficult to work with. But they're fierce, right?
Oh, rings. The bigger the better. Most of these are Forever 21 (I know, I know) and of the highest quality; they turn my fingers green within about two seconds of putting them on. But whatever, they're huge and tacky and that's a win in my book. I salivate over cocktail rings on eBay and etsy (I mean, LOOK at THIS) all the time. It is a huge gripe of mine that Target never thinks about the small-fingered people of the world: they always have fun rings which they only produce in sizes 7 and 8, which certainly does not help ME. Sigh.
Necklaces, my true love. Unfortunately, I got bored/didn't manage to get good pictures (I didn't photograph my bracelets, either), so maybe I'll try again another time. I would actually like to go through my necklaces piece by piece, because I have some very interesting vintage ones & I consider my taste in mass-produced pieces pretty awesome as well. Check out that peace sign necklace! It is the height of California Casual. No, just kidding, California Casual is SO CASUAL that it doesn't even involve jewelry. Just really baggy shit that sounds horribly unflattering.
Finally, before I stop torturing you with my jewelry collection, this is one of my favorite vintage pieces. Super long chain, antique gold finish, badass elephant head - what's not to love?
Okay, what's the verdict? Stacey or Claudia? (Please god, not Stacey.) Also, I will not apologize for the bad photography, because I cannot possibly convey what a piece of crap my camera - particularly the macro setting - is and I refuse to use flash because I HATE flash photography.
So, let's address "Gettin' Misty." The year's almost over and I can't tell you guys how fun you've made this project. I've said it before - probably 100 times over at this point - that I am absolutely flabbergasted at how well-received my silly little blog is (my inner journalism major dislikes this sentence structure, but my outer lazy blogger is like "dude, move on"). I am not very good at letting you guys know how much I appreciate you reading & linking & commenting & thinking I am funny (it's gotten hard for me to get my head through doorways), but DAMN KIDS! You make me smile.
Sometimes I think about what I will do with myself when[/if] I try to get one of those professional-type jobs I keep hearing so much about (apparently there are dress codes involved; Claudia does not approve). I bet they would not allow me to use so many parenthesis in my company memos. But I LOVE parenthesis! How could I compromise my parenthetical integrity for the sake of a soul-sucking corporate job in which I would probably be discouraged from wearing my Reese t-straps on the grounds that they look vaguely like the type of footwear you'd see on a 1970s streetwalker?
Here is how the job interview would go:
Interviewer: "So, tell me a little bit about your hobbies." [Yes, in my imaginary job interview, they ask about my hobbies. And then we play cat's cradle.]
Me: "Oh, man, I have been WAITING for this! I am so prepared, you're going to be impressed like woah. So, I have this blog, right? But it's not a normal blog, because I am not really that interesting [Ego: yes I am], even though I force them to read inane ramblings all the time that have nothing to do with anything, really. That doesn't mean I'm not a focused and determined individual, sir. Anyway, this blog is about the Babysitters Club. Did you read those books? Probably not, you're a little too old - sorry, sir - and most guys didn't anyway except for SO@24 and that hardly counts because he's really cool - I mean, boys who write are totally hot, seriously - not like one of those regular guys you see in the UMass sweatshirts who are too busy stocking up on Coors Light to appreciate the high class and culture of re-reading books that were below your grade level when you were six. But I digress! I do that a lot, but trust me sir I am VERY FOCUSED. So it's, like, a fashion blog kinda, and to sum up it's really great and I often use it to poke fun at American Apparel. Although technically I DO link to their items so I guess you COULD say that there's a minute possibility that I'm actually influencing a purchase**. I mean, yeah, you got me, I own three of those acid wash deep v tees. But I got them on eBay for a fraction of the price! I don't support Dov Charney, sir. Have you read about him? He is such a perv, really. I mean, just look at the photoshoots; those girls have clearly been drugged. Why are they so eager to show off their vaginas? Am I just a prude? Are you allowed to say 'vagina' in a job interview? Anyway, those shirts are intense. I read the reviews and everyone's like 'these shirts are hard to wear with a bra' but I'm like, how could you NOT wear them with a bra? They are dangerous low. But they are really flattering and even manage to make a flat-chested young lady like myself - I saw you noticing, sir, and I hope this isn't a factor in your hiring decision, that secretary out front was pretty, uh, chesty - look fairly, um, let's just say chesty again, but there does have to be underwire involved. And sometimes padding."
Interviewer: " . . . "
Me: "So! Did I get the job?"
* Mildly entertaining.
** Doubtful. I mean, I do consider myself to be an arbiter of taste. But not that arbit-y.
Hey, wanna look at my jewelry?
(This totally counts as an entry. )
Maybe if I'm feeling magnanimous I'll include some actual BSC-related content towards the end [POST ENTRY EDIT: Don't get excited, this doesn't happen], but - honestly - this is just penance for teasing you with updates and then returning to Negligent Blogger status. I have some work to do at the library tonight, so I should probably just admit to myself now that my workstyle is 50% productivity/50% playing around on the internet and bring #63: Claudia's
Do you guys do this, too? I mean, I have a closet and dresser full of clothes, but I'm only interested in wearing, oh, about 10 items. And then I get frustrated and donate bags of stuff to the Salvation Army and feel all self-satisfied ("around here our ambition throws a non-perishable item in a donation bin at Christmas / and it pats itself on the fucking back because it thinks it's done something decent" - Matthew Good, 21st Century Living) and THEN about two months later get all pissy at myself for donating the sweater that now I feel like I need desperately and can't live without.
Wait. We were talking jewelry, weren't we.
I mentioned that I am slowly morphing into Stacey McGill and will shortly leave the Babysitters Club to shoplift from Bellair's and get drunk at U4Me concerts. So why not try to redeem myself by showing you some rings and necklaces that are not tasteful, elegant, and totally New York Sophisticate? Also, I've recently "written" a Mental Entry (even though I am a Negligent Blogger, I do compose Mental Entries and then tend to forget their sheer genius by the time I am actually in front of a computer) ENTIRELY ABOUT SNAKE BRACELETS. Wait for it. It's gonna be legendary*.
I've also mentioned that I am a pretty predictable dresser these days. I mean, the jeans have always been predictable, although I am slowly filtering in some widelegs and flares (flares! I know!), because there are only so many days a week (11, by my count) that you can wear skinny jeans. But yeah, the cardigans. Oh, the cardigans, I love them so. At any rate, I redeem myself (at least, TO myself) by making sure that my shoes and jewelry, more often than not, is a little bit out there.
Of course, you may look at this stuff and be like "pssh. Where are the pipe cleaners? Where are the dollhouse chairs converted into earrings? Why do you only have one set of holes in your ears? Where are the telephone cord bracelets, for fuck's sake?" To that I say: whatever.
I'm not going to bother going through piece by piece and telling you origins and why this particular ring/necklace/set of earrings reflects the unique intricacies of my very soul (but they all do, trust me), because I understand that you probably don't really care that much. Instead I'll just drop a note or two.Above we have my earrings. My collection is pretty small because there was about a decade in which I gave up on wearing earrings because my ears were so damn sensitive. I'm not sure if I'm getting more xhardcorex with age, but suddenly they don't really give me issues anymore. So I'm gleefully dangling miniature baskets of fruit and whatnot. My favorites are the beaded hoops & the silver feathers. And yeah, the cranberry-colored pendant earrings DO say peace around the edges and feature a heart/peace sign on the backsides. What of it? I am embracing my inner Dawn Schafer. And my pseudo-bohemian image involves jewelry featuring peace signs. I really want these earrings, but they're massively heavy and the catch is extremely difficult to work with. But they're fierce, right?
Oh, rings. The bigger the better. Most of these are Forever 21 (I know, I know) and of the highest quality; they turn my fingers green within about two seconds of putting them on. But whatever, they're huge and tacky and that's a win in my book. I salivate over cocktail rings on eBay and etsy (I mean, LOOK at THIS) all the time. It is a huge gripe of mine that Target never thinks about the small-fingered people of the world: they always have fun rings which they only produce in sizes 7 and 8, which certainly does not help ME. Sigh. 
Necklaces, my true love. Unfortunately, I got bored/didn't manage to get good pictures (I didn't photograph my bracelets, either), so maybe I'll try again another time. I would actually like to go through my necklaces piece by piece, because I have some very interesting vintage ones & I consider my taste in mass-produced pieces pretty awesome as well. Check out that peace sign necklace! It is the height of California Casual. No, just kidding, California Casual is SO CASUAL that it doesn't even involve jewelry. Just really baggy shit that sounds horribly unflattering.
Finally, before I stop torturing you with my jewelry collection, this is one of my favorite vintage pieces. Super long chain, antique gold finish, badass elephant head - what's not to love?Okay, what's the verdict? Stacey or Claudia? (Please god, not Stacey.) Also, I will not apologize for the bad photography, because I cannot possibly convey what a piece of crap my camera - particularly the macro setting - is and I refuse to use flash because I HATE flash photography.
. . . . .
So, let's address "Gettin' Misty." The year's almost over and I can't tell you guys how fun you've made this project. I've said it before - probably 100 times over at this point - that I am absolutely flabbergasted at how well-received my silly little blog is (my inner journalism major dislikes this sentence structure, but my outer lazy blogger is like "dude, move on"). I am not very good at letting you guys know how much I appreciate you reading & linking & commenting & thinking I am funny (it's gotten hard for me to get my head through doorways), but DAMN KIDS! You make me smile.
Sometimes I think about what I will do with myself when[/if] I try to get one of those professional-type jobs I keep hearing so much about (apparently there are dress codes involved; Claudia does not approve). I bet they would not allow me to use so many parenthesis in my company memos. But I LOVE parenthesis! How could I compromise my parenthetical integrity for the sake of a soul-sucking corporate job in which I would probably be discouraged from wearing my Reese t-straps on the grounds that they look vaguely like the type of footwear you'd see on a 1970s streetwalker?
Here is how the job interview would go:
Interviewer: "So, tell me a little bit about your hobbies." [Yes, in my imaginary job interview, they ask about my hobbies. And then we play cat's cradle.]
Me: "Oh, man, I have been WAITING for this! I am so prepared, you're going to be impressed like woah. So, I have this blog, right? But it's not a normal blog, because I am not really that interesting [Ego: yes I am], even though I force them to read inane ramblings all the time that have nothing to do with anything, really. That doesn't mean I'm not a focused and determined individual, sir. Anyway, this blog is about the Babysitters Club. Did you read those books? Probably not, you're a little too old - sorry, sir - and most guys didn't anyway except for SO@24 and that hardly counts because he's really cool - I mean, boys who write are totally hot, seriously - not like one of those regular guys you see in the UMass sweatshirts who are too busy stocking up on Coors Light to appreciate the high class and culture of re-reading books that were below your grade level when you were six. But I digress! I do that a lot, but trust me sir I am VERY FOCUSED. So it's, like, a fashion blog kinda, and to sum up it's really great and I often use it to poke fun at American Apparel. Although technically I DO link to their items so I guess you COULD say that there's a minute possibility that I'm actually influencing a purchase**. I mean, yeah, you got me, I own three of those acid wash deep v tees. But I got them on eBay for a fraction of the price! I don't support Dov Charney, sir. Have you read about him? He is such a perv, really. I mean, just look at the photoshoots; those girls have clearly been drugged. Why are they so eager to show off their vaginas? Am I just a prude? Are you allowed to say 'vagina' in a job interview? Anyway, those shirts are intense. I read the reviews and everyone's like 'these shirts are hard to wear with a bra' but I'm like, how could you NOT wear them with a bra? They are dangerous low. But they are really flattering and even manage to make a flat-chested young lady like myself - I saw you noticing, sir, and I hope this isn't a factor in your hiring decision, that secretary out front was pretty, uh, chesty - look fairly, um, let's just say chesty again, but there does have to be underwire involved. And sometimes padding."
Interviewer: " . . . "
Me: "So! Did I get the job?"
* Mildly entertaining.
** Doubtful. I mean, I do consider myself to be an arbiter of taste. But not that arbit-y.
- 22 comments • Category: A Moment with Kim
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Mystery #4: Kristy and the Missing Child
What's up, guys. Negligent Blogger here.
I am really sick. But I'm thinking that "really sick" might somehow translate into "really funny," (probably also "really incoherent") because it's the kind of sick that makes you wonder if someone secretly dosed you. Seriously.
I mean, yeah, I feel like crap - I have a fever and my joints hurt and I would murder fluffy kittens for a decent backrub and my eyeballs are really hot (this is my default "I'm sick" complaint: "My eyeballs are hot! The world is ending! No one has ever suffered worse than this! Ever!") - but I am also so disoriented that I feel like I'm about to suffer a disgusting, drug-induced fate like you'd see in one of those cracked-out Spun/Requiem for a Dream/Party Monster/Human Traffic/etc*. type flicks.
Like, I feel like I'm swimming in air and it takes me approximately 3 minutes after you say something for me to process it and come up with a semi-coherent response (emphasis on semi), and ALSO my equilibrium is kinda off (meaning that it was maybe not the right day to wear these shoes). So, to whomever snuck into my apartment and drugged my oatmeal: VERY FUNNY. You'll get yours.
Right. Babysitters Club. I'm all over it.
So, Kristy lost a kid. What a shit babysitter. Let's all band together and draft a petition to throw her out of the club and therefore have Our Heroine take over the all-important Club President position. Because I could see some awesome changes being made, such as less babysitting and more shopping. Seriously, Baby Kim was always SO excited whenever the babysitters went to the mall. If the army of ghostwriters had asked my opinion, a new item would have been added to the book-writing template: "every book must include a chapter where the girls go malling." Or mauling. Either would have been entertaining.
Alright, technically she didn't lose the kid. Technically, Jake Kuhn's mom told him it was okay for him to walk home by himself. Unfortunately, Jake Kuhn's mom didn't realize he was a moron who would wander into construction sites in the rain (safe!) and then fall into a hole and - naturally - break his leg, leaving him stranded and alone. And apparently Jake Kuhn's mom isn't one of those Cool Moms** who gives her kid a cellphone for, like, their 3rd birthday. Dina Lohan's children would have never had this problem.
Um, fashion. Yeah. Thanks for staying with me. Ghostwriter was feeling lazy; we don't get a full outfit in Chapter 2. However, Ghostwriter does give us one item to contemplate: "gold lamé high-tops." Which, if I know Claudia, she definitely pairs with silver lamé shiny leggings and, uh, this shirt. The future is NOW, and it is GAUDY.
I guess Stoneybrook Middle School holds some kind of awards night that is basically equivalent to senior superlatives. I don't know, it sounds dumb to me, but maybe I'm just bitter because I didn't get a senior superlative. If only they'd had a "Most Likely to Play Daria Morgendorffer in a Major Motion Picture Adaptation" category! I would have been a shoe-in. Believe it or not, I'm getting less bitter with age.
Anyway, Stacey tells Claud "I'd love to win 'Coolest Dresser,' but I bet you'll get that one." Man, there are so many things I can say to this. So many things. But maybe I better get it out there that I have somehow morphed into Stacey McGill and I kind of hate myself for it. Seriously, I wear black all the time now. I go shopping, and I wander into the dressing room, and every item I'm trying on is black. I look in my closet and I'm like "this red sweater is nice! . . . but I think I feel like wearing black today." I am embracing my inner Sophisticated New Yorker and it is very cliche and embarrassing. Whatever, at least I don't consider Bloomingdales to be the fashion capital of the world. Nor do I pin sparkly dinosaurs to my berets. But watch for it, because when I start doing so we may need to have a serious talk.
So, back to Stacey's comment: BITCH PLEASE. Your MTV-watching, Madonna-style-swiping, Sassy-reading, no-individuality, bizarrely business-casual-wearing (what's with all the slacks?) style can't even begin to compete with the queen of snake bracelets, bungee cord belts, puffy shirts, velour knickers, and teddy bear barrettes.
Ghostwriter doesn't bother telling us who DOES win "Coolest Dresser," (dammit Ghostwriter) but I think we all know.
What Claudia & Stacey wore to Awards Night: (warning: lackluster outfits ahead) Claudia: "some kind of black jumpsuit-thing with a wide red belt" (I HATE wide 80s belts, I HATE extraneous belting, I HATE waist belts, HATE) & Stacey: "tie-dyed leggings and a short dress that was kind of also like a man's shirt."
Meh. Maybe they should just give Coolest Dresser to Cokie Mason and be done with it. That girl was SASSY.
Oh, and several years later Jake's skeleton was uncovered when the homeowners tore apart their foundation in the process of rebuilding the basement. Sad. If only Kristy hadn't let him walk home alone.***
* I had a phase where I really, really loved movies about (or revolving around) . . . well, drugs. Now I can't even think about Requiem for a Dream without weeping a little. Honestly, I still cry at the end of SLC Punk. I am a total pansy. But a pansy with great footwear.
** The fact that I youtube'd "cool mom amy poehler" and did not find a single relevant Mean Girls clip makes me extremely sad, so to make up for it here's a fabulous clip of Amy & Will Arnett in Arrested Development. You're welcome.
*** Wouldn't that have been great? Or am I just really sadistic?
What's up, guys. Negligent Blogger here.
I am really sick. But I'm thinking that "really sick" might somehow translate into "really funny," (probably also "really incoherent") because it's the kind of sick that makes you wonder if someone secretly dosed you. Seriously.
I mean, yeah, I feel like crap - I have a fever and my joints hurt and I would murder fluffy kittens for a decent backrub and my eyeballs are really hot (this is my default "I'm sick" complaint: "My eyeballs are hot! The world is ending! No one has ever suffered worse than this! Ever!") - but I am also so disoriented that I feel like I'm about to suffer a disgusting, drug-induced fate like you'd see in one of those cracked-out Spun/Requiem for a Dream/Party Monster/Human Traffic/etc*. type flicks.
Like, I feel like I'm swimming in air and it takes me approximately 3 minutes after you say something for me to process it and come up with a semi-coherent response (emphasis on semi), and ALSO my equilibrium is kinda off (meaning that it was maybe not the right day to wear these shoes). So, to whomever snuck into my apartment and drugged my oatmeal: VERY FUNNY. You'll get yours.
Right. Babysitters Club. I'm all over it.
So, Kristy lost a kid. What a shit babysitter. Let's all band together and draft a petition to throw her out of the club and therefore have Our Heroine take over the all-important Club President position. Because I could see some awesome changes being made, such as less babysitting and more shopping. Seriously, Baby Kim was always SO excited whenever the babysitters went to the mall. If the army of ghostwriters had asked my opinion, a new item would have been added to the book-writing template: "every book must include a chapter where the girls go malling." Or mauling. Either would have been entertaining.
Alright, technically she didn't lose the kid. Technically, Jake Kuhn's mom told him it was okay for him to walk home by himself. Unfortunately, Jake Kuhn's mom didn't realize he was a moron who would wander into construction sites in the rain (safe!) and then fall into a hole and - naturally - break his leg, leaving him stranded and alone. And apparently Jake Kuhn's mom isn't one of those Cool Moms** who gives her kid a cellphone for, like, their 3rd birthday. Dina Lohan's children would have never had this problem.
Um, fashion. Yeah. Thanks for staying with me. Ghostwriter was feeling lazy; we don't get a full outfit in Chapter 2. However, Ghostwriter does give us one item to contemplate: "gold lamé high-tops." Which, if I know Claudia, she definitely pairs with silver lamé shiny leggings and, uh, this shirt. The future is NOW, and it is GAUDY.
I guess Stoneybrook Middle School holds some kind of awards night that is basically equivalent to senior superlatives. I don't know, it sounds dumb to me, but maybe I'm just bitter because I didn't get a senior superlative. If only they'd had a "Most Likely to Play Daria Morgendorffer in a Major Motion Picture Adaptation" category! I would have been a shoe-in. Believe it or not, I'm getting less bitter with age.
Anyway, Stacey tells Claud "I'd love to win 'Coolest Dresser,' but I bet you'll get that one." Man, there are so many things I can say to this. So many things. But maybe I better get it out there that I have somehow morphed into Stacey McGill and I kind of hate myself for it. Seriously, I wear black all the time now. I go shopping, and I wander into the dressing room, and every item I'm trying on is black. I look in my closet and I'm like "this red sweater is nice! . . . but I think I feel like wearing black today." I am embracing my inner Sophisticated New Yorker and it is very cliche and embarrassing. Whatever, at least I don't consider Bloomingdales to be the fashion capital of the world. Nor do I pin sparkly dinosaurs to my berets. But watch for it, because when I start doing so we may need to have a serious talk.
So, back to Stacey's comment: BITCH PLEASE. Your MTV-watching, Madonna-style-swiping, Sassy-reading, no-individuality, bizarrely business-casual-wearing (what's with all the slacks?) style can't even begin to compete with the queen of snake bracelets, bungee cord belts, puffy shirts, velour knickers, and teddy bear barrettes.
Ghostwriter doesn't bother telling us who DOES win "Coolest Dresser," (dammit Ghostwriter) but I think we all know.
What Claudia & Stacey wore to Awards Night: (warning: lackluster outfits ahead) Claudia: "some kind of black jumpsuit-thing with a wide red belt" (I HATE wide 80s belts, I HATE extraneous belting, I HATE waist belts, HATE) & Stacey: "tie-dyed leggings and a short dress that was kind of also like a man's shirt."
Meh. Maybe they should just give Coolest Dresser to Cokie Mason and be done with it. That girl was SASSY.
Oh, and several years later Jake's skeleton was uncovered when the homeowners tore apart their foundation in the process of rebuilding the basement. Sad. If only Kristy hadn't let him walk home alone.***
* I had a phase where I really, really loved movies about (or revolving around) . . . well, drugs. Now I can't even think about Requiem for a Dream without weeping a little. Honestly, I still cry at the end of SLC Punk. I am a total pansy. But a pansy with great footwear.
** The fact that I youtube'd "cool mom amy poehler" and did not find a single relevant Mean Girls clip makes me extremely sad, so to make up for it here's a fabulous clip of Amy & Will Arnett in Arrested Development. You're welcome.
*** Wouldn't that have been great? Or am I just really sadistic?
A Moment with Kim: Shoes. Sometimes a girl just needs some.*
I now own 2 pairs of Frye shoes. This is a big deal for me. This is the Kim equivalent of Claudia finding a sweet-ass pair of neon green hightops with tie-dyed orange and yellow laces which she then bedazzles and combines with a sequined sheath and her snake bracelet. It's that big.
(You know Claudia loves sneakers AND bedazzling. "Sneakers, Bedazzling, and You" is actually the title of her next book.)
Anyway, my love affair with the Frye brand began a few years ago, when I became obsessed with the idea of owning a pair of campus boots. (I forget why; I probably saw a picture of Kate Moss wearing a pair or something. Never said I was original.) Once I realized that I didn't have $300 to burn (well, not "realized" so much as "came to terms with"), the dream kind of fizzled until my 23rd birthday approached and I found a pair of vintage Thom McCans on ebay that were total Frye dopplegangers.
A bidding war ensued, but my rapid-refresh abilities won out in the last few seconds, and I've been stomping around in those puppies ever since.
My first pair of actual Frye's were a purchase I made at the beginning of this year. I'd been saving up for a while and I had a couple favorites picked out - a few that were practical and would transition well into business-casual (for when - and let's be honest, if - I join the quote-unquote real world) styling. Of course, the ones I ended up buying were the Reese t-straps, which are:
1. extremely impractical
2. oddly shaped
3. (direct quote from coworker:) "the ugliest shoes I have ever seen."
Quite frankly, I fucking love 'em. They've got 3.75" stacked wood heels and they're ridiculously heavy, which means that whenever I walk down a hallway in them it sounds like a wild pony has gotten loose in the building.
Neigh.
Since then, my love for Frye has only grown, and I've spent plenty of time window shopping at their site and whimpering softly over price points.
So when I saw that the multicolored Adrienne t-straps I'd been lusting over for the past year were on sale ($70, down from about $200), it was nearly - no, strike that - COMPLETELY impossible to resist. This entry is mostly a love letter to Frye (Call me! I'll be your spokeswoman! I'm extremely good at thumbs-up signs!) but I also have to give it up for Zappos, because they upgraded me to super-crazy-fast-shipping for no extra charge. Which means that today I am sporting some bomb-ass red/green/brown t-straps (below) and feeling mighty fly.
Claudia would approve (although I have a feeling Irregular Choice would be more up her alley).
* Good times, good times. I saw Pharrell this May in Northampton. This may be hard to believe, but he's even better looking in real life. Suspiciously good looking, like maybe he's not entirely human.
I now own 2 pairs of Frye shoes. This is a big deal for me. This is the Kim equivalent of Claudia finding a sweet-ass pair of neon green hightops with tie-dyed orange and yellow laces which she then bedazzles and combines with a sequined sheath and her snake bracelet. It's that big.
(You know Claudia loves sneakers AND bedazzling. "Sneakers, Bedazzling, and You" is actually the title of her next book.)
Anyway, my love affair with the Frye brand began a few years ago, when I became obsessed with the idea of owning a pair of campus boots. (I forget why; I probably saw a picture of Kate Moss wearing a pair or something. Never said I was original.) Once I realized that I didn't have $300 to burn (well, not "realized" so much as "came to terms with"), the dream kind of fizzled until my 23rd birthday approached and I found a pair of vintage Thom McCans on ebay that were total Frye dopplegangers.
A bidding war ensued, but my rapid-refresh abilities won out in the last few seconds, and I've been stomping around in those puppies ever since.
My first pair of actual Frye's were a purchase I made at the beginning of this year. I'd been saving up for a while and I had a couple favorites picked out - a few that were practical and would transition well into business-casual (for when - and let's be honest, if - I join the quote-unquote real world) styling. Of course, the ones I ended up buying were the Reese t-straps, which are:
1. extremely impractical2. oddly shaped
3. (direct quote from coworker:) "the ugliest shoes I have ever seen."
Quite frankly, I fucking love 'em. They've got 3.75" stacked wood heels and they're ridiculously heavy, which means that whenever I walk down a hallway in them it sounds like a wild pony has gotten loose in the building.
Neigh.
Since then, my love for Frye has only grown, and I've spent plenty of time window shopping at their site and whimpering softly over price points.
So when I saw that the multicolored Adrienne t-straps I'd been lusting over for the past year were on sale ($70, down from about $200), it was nearly - no, strike that - COMPLETELY impossible to resist. This entry is mostly a love letter to Frye (Call me! I'll be your spokeswoman! I'm extremely good at thumbs-up signs!) but I also have to give it up for Zappos, because they upgraded me to super-crazy-fast-shipping for no extra charge. Which means that today I am sporting some bomb-ass red/green/brown t-straps (below) and feeling mighty fly.
Claudia would approve (although I have a feeling Irregular Choice would be more up her alley).
* Good times, good times. I saw Pharrell this May in Northampton. This may be hard to believe, but he's even better looking in real life. Suspiciously good looking, like maybe he's not entirely human.
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#51: Stacey's Ex-Best Friend
The cover is nice and all, but I thought we could update it a bit:
There it is.
Those city girls. They sure do grow up fast.
Stacey on Claudia (and, of course, herself): " ... She's tall and thin and a very distant dresser. Claud cares about clothes as much as Kristy doesn't care about them. That's one thing Claud and I have in common. If I may say so, we are pretty sophisticated. [ . . . ] We both like wild outfits - leggings, cowboy boots, short skirts, the layered look, cool hats. And we pay a lot of attention to our nails and our makeup and especially to our hair. I am constantly getting my hair permed. (My hair is blonde and wavy; the perm makes it look even wavier. [God, I wanted a perm so badly when I was a little girl - dammit Stacey!]) Claud likes to experiment with different hairstyles. And she likes hair ornaments - beads and ponytail ties and flowers."
What Stacey wears to meet Laine: "I examined myself critically in the full-length mirror. [Soapbox moment: great message there, ghostwriter] This was the outfit I had chosen in which to meet Laine: a purple shirtwaist top over flowered leggings, my cowboy boots (cowgirl boots? cowwoman boots?), a purple hair ornament made from shoelaces, [didn't we all own a hair ornament made from shoelaces? Mine was pink, green, and orange neon. Baller.] and long dangly silver earrings. I passed my test." Swell.
What Laine wears to meet Stacey: "I saw Laine the second she stepped onto the platforms. She was hard to miss, considering she was wearing a jean coat with a fur collar (I sincerely hoped the fur was fake), black capri pants edged with lace, very chich black ankle boots, and on her head, a brilliant red oversized beret." Wow, the capri pants and the ankle boots. That is a bold move. As is a jean coat with a fur collar, but it is 1991 we're talking about.
Laine and Stacey have a tiff over wearing red on Valentine's Day -- Laine finds it childish and Stacey's all about it. Her defense is that her mom wears red on Valentine's Day. Swing and a miss.
What Stacey wears to the Valentine's Day Dance (you bet there's a dance!): "I pulled a red top and a very short jean skirt out of my closet. 'Laine? I could wear this.'" Laine, awesomely, ignores her and starts contemplating whether or not she should change her nail polish. And then she tells Stacey she should go on a diet.
What Laine wears to the Valentine's Day Dance: "Laine was dressed in black from head to toe. Black leotard, long black jacket, black leggings over black stockings, black shoes. Her jewelry was silver, though. And big." I'm assuming the leggings are the dreaded calf-length variety, otherwise I can't picture this being an outfit. It's pretty hard as is, what with the leotard and leggings. I feel like she's going to lead a Sophisticated New York-Style Jazzercise Session.
Stacey and Laine bond briefly over the tropical fish earrings Stacey had Claudia make for Laine. Aww, Claudia. Your little art projects have the power to heal.
Hey, my pack joke from the last entry totally panned out and I swear to god I didn't even plan it. Check this: "My friends and I (all seven of us, plus our dates) had decided to meet at the door and then go to the dance in a pack. Sometimes we like to stick together that way." Sometimes?
The dance is a middle school dance - gym, streamers, awkward kids - and Laine's date is wearing his trademark sneakers with his suit and Laine just keeps making snotty comments and then Kristy totally burns her. After some kid spills punch near Laine, she comments that 6th graders have no muscle control and shouldn't be allowed at dances. Later, she ends up turning down Pete (her date) for a dance and then goes off with some young middle school stud. And then comes the magic:
"Kristy had joined us. 'I wonder if Laine knows her dream boy is a lowly seventh-grader.' She paused. 'I also wonder if Laine thinks seventh-graders have enough muscle control.'
Claudia laughed, but I didn't." Well, Claudia knows funny when she hears it, Stacey.
What Stacey wears on Valentine's Day: "'Not too much like a red elf?' I asked. (I was wearing red leggings, red ankle boots, a bulky red sweater, and red barrettes.)
'Not at all like a red elf,' said Claud. 'I wouldn't tell you something like that. Who do you think I am - Laine?'" Well, you're certainly nicer than I am. Stacey? Elf city.
The cover is nice and all, but I thought we could update it a bit:
There it is.Those city girls. They sure do grow up fast.
Stacey on Claudia (and, of course, herself): " ... She's tall and thin and a very distant dresser. Claud cares about clothes as much as Kristy doesn't care about them. That's one thing Claud and I have in common. If I may say so, we are pretty sophisticated. [ . . . ] We both like wild outfits - leggings, cowboy boots, short skirts, the layered look, cool hats. And we pay a lot of attention to our nails and our makeup and especially to our hair. I am constantly getting my hair permed. (My hair is blonde and wavy; the perm makes it look even wavier. [God, I wanted a perm so badly when I was a little girl - dammit Stacey!]) Claud likes to experiment with different hairstyles. And she likes hair ornaments - beads and ponytail ties and flowers."
What Stacey wears to meet Laine: "I examined myself critically in the full-length mirror. [Soapbox moment: great message there, ghostwriter] This was the outfit I had chosen in which to meet Laine: a purple shirtwaist top over flowered leggings, my cowboy boots (cowgirl boots? cowwoman boots?), a purple hair ornament made from shoelaces, [didn't we all own a hair ornament made from shoelaces? Mine was pink, green, and orange neon. Baller.] and long dangly silver earrings. I passed my test." Swell.
What Laine wears to meet Stacey: "I saw Laine the second she stepped onto the platforms. She was hard to miss, considering she was wearing a jean coat with a fur collar (I sincerely hoped the fur was fake), black capri pants edged with lace, very chich black ankle boots, and on her head, a brilliant red oversized beret." Wow, the capri pants and the ankle boots. That is a bold move. As is a jean coat with a fur collar, but it is 1991 we're talking about.
Laine and Stacey have a tiff over wearing red on Valentine's Day -- Laine finds it childish and Stacey's all about it. Her defense is that her mom wears red on Valentine's Day. Swing and a miss.
What Stacey wears to the Valentine's Day Dance (you bet there's a dance!): "I pulled a red top and a very short jean skirt out of my closet. 'Laine? I could wear this.'" Laine, awesomely, ignores her and starts contemplating whether or not she should change her nail polish. And then she tells Stacey she should go on a diet.
What Laine wears to the Valentine's Day Dance: "Laine was dressed in black from head to toe. Black leotard, long black jacket, black leggings over black stockings, black shoes. Her jewelry was silver, though. And big." I'm assuming the leggings are the dreaded calf-length variety, otherwise I can't picture this being an outfit. It's pretty hard as is, what with the leotard and leggings. I feel like she's going to lead a Sophisticated New York-Style Jazzercise Session.
Stacey and Laine bond briefly over the tropical fish earrings Stacey had Claudia make for Laine. Aww, Claudia. Your little art projects have the power to heal.
Hey, my pack joke from the last entry totally panned out and I swear to god I didn't even plan it. Check this: "My friends and I (all seven of us, plus our dates) had decided to meet at the door and then go to the dance in a pack. Sometimes we like to stick together that way." Sometimes?
The dance is a middle school dance - gym, streamers, awkward kids - and Laine's date is wearing his trademark sneakers with his suit and Laine just keeps making snotty comments and then Kristy totally burns her. After some kid spills punch near Laine, she comments that 6th graders have no muscle control and shouldn't be allowed at dances. Later, she ends up turning down Pete (her date) for a dance and then goes off with some young middle school stud. And then comes the magic:
"Kristy had joined us. 'I wonder if Laine knows her dream boy is a lowly seventh-grader.' She paused. 'I also wonder if Laine thinks seventh-graders have enough muscle control.'
Claudia laughed, but I didn't." Well, Claudia knows funny when she hears it, Stacey.
What Stacey wears on Valentine's Day: "'Not too much like a red elf?' I asked. (I was wearing red leggings, red ankle boots, a bulky red sweater, and red barrettes.)
'Not at all like a red elf,' said Claud. 'I wouldn't tell you something like that. Who do you think I am - Laine?'" Well, you're certainly nicer than I am. Stacey? Elf city.
#46: Mary Anne Misses Logan
So remember yesterday when I was talking about Mary Anne Misses Logan? Well, I thought it would be fun if I gave you all coronaries by updating the blog two days in a row. I know! Can you believe these shenanigans?! Don't fret, I'll probably return to my usual status (Negligent Blogger) soon enough. My friend Kel keeps telling me I should get a cat (because she can sense my impending spinsterhood) and I'm like "DUDE, I can't even take care of my inanimate web project, let alone an actual living creature." The poor thing would be dead within a week. I'm surprised my pothos plant is still alive.
Anyway. Behold the glory (all credit goes to the dibbly-fresh gallery and of course to the visionary who created this masterpiece of early 90s cover art).
Did you behold? Don't just look, people. BEHOLD. Take in every blessed detail, including the blurred crowd of skaters very, very far away from the girls, like maybe the babysitters have all contracted some sort of terribly contagious disease and have been quarantined to one side of the rink. I also like the tagline A LOT: "Nothing beats your friends. But even so . . ." There are just way too many hysterical (and, shamefully, dirty) ways to finish that sentence.
So I guess Claudia, Stacey, and Kristy decided to go out and buy matching white rollerskates and didn't tell Mary Anne. Harsh! And where are the other three? I guess I should just be glad there's at least one book where the entire club doesn't wander around in a pack.
I meant to discuss outfits here, truly I did.
KRISTY: That. sweater. And the clashing turtleneck. And the cuffed jeans.
STACEY: Clearly, if she was standing up, we'd be seeing some camel toe. That sweatshirt does NOT look long enough to cover those leggings, and Blair Waldorf may need to hold a disciplinary hearing.
MARY ANNE: Meh. Again though, with the cuffed jeans.
CLAUDIA: I love this fierce bitch. Now, I would never wear any of this. But this is just so, so good. If only we could see some crazy accessories*, this would be a perfect Claudia outfit. The mulberry vest over what is undoubtedly one of Mr. Kishi's work shirts. The omnipresent black leggings. The non-matching yet still coordinated fedora (also sported by Jenny Humphrey last night in her new life as some sort of cobrasnake style hipster-hussy. Okay, fine, it was a bowler hat. I just wanted another excuse to talk Gossip Girl. I won't get into the Chuck stuff, though, because that is a subject for an entirely new blog, which I plan to title What Chuck Did And Why I Am Extremely Attracted To Him Even Though I Shouldn't Be What The Hell Is Wrong With Me. Catchy, right?).
* Speaking of crazy accessories, I entered a contest and naturally I'd like you to vote for me if you're bored and looking to waste valuable work time while getting paid for your adventures in internet surfing. Lucky Magazine sent me an e-mail in which they basically said "hey if you enter this contest and write about it on the blog perhaps we'll reward you with free stuff." And I was like, "woah, free stuff! I'm in!" And then I realized it was a contest that revolved around denim, and I was EVEN MORE IN. And then I took a bunch of self portraits and THEN I questioned whether this was a good idea in the first place. I mean, I kind of enjoy being the anonymous snark-ster that hides behind a profile picture taken over a year ago in a bathroom mirror. I am not exactly America's Next Top Model. I don't know how to smile with my eyes! It's a crime, really.
So here's my entry. I tried to include an amusing write-up -- I am most proud of the line about me attending the Paris Hilton School of Posing Like a Douchebag, because it's very clear that I DID attend that school, and was heavily involved in all its extracurricular activities.
Detail: three necklaces, back pocket detailing (oh, fine, gratuitous booty shot . . . but now I get to tell my grandchildren that I posted a picture of my butt on the internet! And admit it: now that you've seen the studs you kind of want these jeans, even if you're not down with ecru pants.), and learning to pose like a flamingo for fun and profit. The flamingo thing was actually to show off my shoes, because they are an amazing pair of Jeffrey Campbell oxfords that I hardly ever take off because I am FIVE TEN in them. The bag is Gryson for Target.
And, because those photos are kind of somber and I want you all to know I am still the fun-loving gal you know and, um, tolerate, here I am giving you some SERIOUS finger guns.
Pew pew pew!
(This entry is a good example of why I should go to rehab for my caffeine addiction. It is clearly raging out of control. Time to get out the intervention banner!)
So remember yesterday when I was talking about Mary Anne Misses Logan? Well, I thought it would be fun if I gave you all coronaries by updating the blog two days in a row. I know! Can you believe these shenanigans?! Don't fret, I'll probably return to my usual status (Negligent Blogger) soon enough. My friend Kel keeps telling me I should get a cat (because she can sense my impending spinsterhood) and I'm like "DUDE, I can't even take care of my inanimate web project, let alone an actual living creature." The poor thing would be dead within a week. I'm surprised my pothos plant is still alive.
Anyway. Behold the glory (all credit goes to the dibbly-fresh gallery and of course to the visionary who created this masterpiece of early 90s cover art).
Did you behold? Don't just look, people. BEHOLD. Take in every blessed detail, including the blurred crowd of skaters very, very far away from the girls, like maybe the babysitters have all contracted some sort of terribly contagious disease and have been quarantined to one side of the rink. I also like the tagline A LOT: "Nothing beats your friends. But even so . . ." There are just way too many hysterical (and, shamefully, dirty) ways to finish that sentence.
So I guess Claudia, Stacey, and Kristy decided to go out and buy matching white rollerskates and didn't tell Mary Anne. Harsh! And where are the other three? I guess I should just be glad there's at least one book where the entire club doesn't wander around in a pack.
I meant to discuss outfits here, truly I did.
KRISTY: That. sweater. And the clashing turtleneck. And the cuffed jeans.
STACEY: Clearly, if she was standing up, we'd be seeing some camel toe. That sweatshirt does NOT look long enough to cover those leggings, and Blair Waldorf may need to hold a disciplinary hearing.
MARY ANNE: Meh. Again though, with the cuffed jeans.
CLAUDIA: I love this fierce bitch. Now, I would never wear any of this. But this is just so, so good. If only we could see some crazy accessories*, this would be a perfect Claudia outfit. The mulberry vest over what is undoubtedly one of Mr. Kishi's work shirts. The omnipresent black leggings. The non-matching yet still coordinated fedora (also sported by Jenny Humphrey last night in her new life as some sort of cobrasnake style hipster-hussy. Okay, fine, it was a bowler hat. I just wanted another excuse to talk Gossip Girl. I won't get into the Chuck stuff, though, because that is a subject for an entirely new blog, which I plan to title What Chuck Did And Why I Am Extremely Attracted To Him Even Though I Shouldn't Be What The Hell Is Wrong With Me. Catchy, right?).
* Speaking of crazy accessories, I entered a contest and naturally I'd like you to vote for me if you're bored and looking to waste valuable work time while getting paid for your adventures in internet surfing. Lucky Magazine sent me an e-mail in which they basically said "hey if you enter this contest and write about it on the blog perhaps we'll reward you with free stuff." And I was like, "woah, free stuff! I'm in!" And then I realized it was a contest that revolved around denim, and I was EVEN MORE IN. And then I took a bunch of self portraits and THEN I questioned whether this was a good idea in the first place. I mean, I kind of enjoy being the anonymous snark-ster that hides behind a profile picture taken over a year ago in a bathroom mirror. I am not exactly America's Next Top Model. I don't know how to smile with my eyes! It's a crime, really.
So here's my entry. I tried to include an amusing write-up -- I am most proud of the line about me attending the Paris Hilton School of Posing Like a Douchebag, because it's very clear that I DID attend that school, and was heavily involved in all its extracurricular activities.
Detail: three necklaces, back pocket detailing (oh, fine, gratuitous booty shot . . . but now I get to tell my grandchildren that I posted a picture of my butt on the internet! And admit it: now that you've seen the studs you kind of want these jeans, even if you're not down with ecru pants.), and learning to pose like a flamingo for fun and profit. The flamingo thing was actually to show off my shoes, because they are an amazing pair of Jeffrey Campbell oxfords that I hardly ever take off because I am FIVE TEN in them. The bag is Gryson for Target.
And, because those photos are kind of somber and I want you all to know I am still the fun-loving gal you know and, um, tolerate, here I am giving you some SERIOUS finger guns.
Pew pew pew!
(This entry is a good example of why I should go to rehab for my caffeine addiction. It is clearly raging out of control. Time to get out the intervention banner!)
#41: Mary Anne vs. Logan
Logan Bruno is the original Edward Cullen. They're both overprotective and overbearing, although Cullen wins points for not having a painfully cliche super-Southern accent and Bruno wins points for not actually being a straight-up stalker. Soapbox moment: do not let your impressionable children read Twilight, lest they internalize the kind of freaky obsessive codependent relationship dynamics that Meyer insists are, like, romantic or something. Seriously, SO CREEPY.
Onwards.
Anyway, this is the book where Mary Anne realizes that Logan is totally Edward Cullen-ing her and cuts him loose, only to get back together with him 5 books later (in a tome creatively titled "Mary Anne Misses Logan" . . . which has possibly the best BSC cover of all time. I mean, look at that cover! It's a blog entry in itself.). Oh, Mary Anne. I'm choosing to forgive you because I too have made some not-so-stellar interpersonal choices. We live, we learn, and hopefully we graduate middle school (eventually) and drop the douchebag.
I probably wouldn't hate him so much if the ghostwriters didn't harp on that damn accent.
The fashion begins with "a typical Claudia outfit . . . black leggings [I can't escape them . . . 2008, 1991 - they're everywhere!], a baggy black-and-white shirtdress, low black shoes [up your shoe-description game, ghostwriters], and big wild earrings for her pierced ears." And then "blah blah blah Japanese-American = exotic blah blah junk food blah can't spell blah." Let's skip ahead!
"Claudia flopped onto her bed and leaned against the wall. She was looking especially acute that day. (Acute means cool. My friends and I make up words all the time, and only we know what they mean. [Actually, you guys merely redefine words that already exist, and not that creatively, either.] Distant [see?] and dibble [okay, got me there] also mean cool.) Claud was wearing an oversized raspberry-colored shirt, a short black skirt, and black leggings (the layered look). On her feet were black cowboy boots, and dangling from an earcuff was a huge collection of beads and stones. (Claud does have pierced ears, but the holes were empty.)"
Compared to Claudia, Mary Anne feels "like a complete nerd," and rightly so. ". . . I was wearing one of my better outfits: blue print pants that were wide on top but narrowed to cuffs at the ankles [zoot suit?], and a short-cropped t-shirt [Richard let her out of the house in a short-cropped t-shirt?] with the sleeves rolled up and this acute [sigh] picture of a cactus wearing a cowboy boot."
Oh yeah. Real acute.
Later, Logan comes over and basically orders Mary Anne to go on an impromptu date with him, and . . . I don't know, I just have to share this:
"'Logan!' I said, gasping. 'Slow down!' [Okay, out of context that comes across . . . wrong. They're ice skating, for the record. Perv.]
'Oh, you want a leisurely turn around the ice? That's a good idea. Then everyone can see what a great couple we make.'"
WHAT.
Logan Bruno is the original Edward Cullen. They're both overprotective and overbearing, although Cullen wins points for not having a painfully cliche super-Southern accent and Bruno wins points for not actually being a straight-up stalker. Soapbox moment: do not let your impressionable children read Twilight, lest they internalize the kind of freaky obsessive codependent relationship dynamics that Meyer insists are, like, romantic or something. Seriously, SO CREEPY.
Onwards.
Anyway, this is the book where Mary Anne realizes that Logan is totally Edward Cullen-ing her and cuts him loose, only to get back together with him 5 books later (in a tome creatively titled "Mary Anne Misses Logan" . . . which has possibly the best BSC cover of all time. I mean, look at that cover! It's a blog entry in itself.). Oh, Mary Anne. I'm choosing to forgive you because I too have made some not-so-stellar interpersonal choices. We live, we learn, and hopefully we graduate middle school (eventually) and drop the douchebag.
I probably wouldn't hate him so much if the ghostwriters didn't harp on that damn accent.
The fashion begins with "a typical Claudia outfit . . . black leggings [I can't escape them . . . 2008, 1991 - they're everywhere!], a baggy black-and-white shirtdress, low black shoes [up your shoe-description game, ghostwriters], and big wild earrings for her pierced ears." And then "blah blah blah Japanese-American = exotic blah blah junk food blah can't spell blah." Let's skip ahead!
"Claudia flopped onto her bed and leaned against the wall. She was looking especially acute that day. (Acute means cool. My friends and I make up words all the time, and only we know what they mean. [Actually, you guys merely redefine words that already exist, and not that creatively, either.] Distant [see?] and dibble [okay, got me there] also mean cool.) Claud was wearing an oversized raspberry-colored shirt, a short black skirt, and black leggings (the layered look). On her feet were black cowboy boots, and dangling from an earcuff was a huge collection of beads and stones. (Claud does have pierced ears, but the holes were empty.)"
Compared to Claudia, Mary Anne feels "like a complete nerd," and rightly so. ". . . I was wearing one of my better outfits: blue print pants that were wide on top but narrowed to cuffs at the ankles [zoot suit?], and a short-cropped t-shirt [Richard let her out of the house in a short-cropped t-shirt?] with the sleeves rolled up and this acute [sigh] picture of a cactus wearing a cowboy boot."
Oh yeah. Real acute.
Later, Logan comes over and basically orders Mary Anne to go on an impromptu date with him, and . . . I don't know, I just have to share this:
"'Logan!' I said, gasping. 'Slow down!' [Okay, out of context that comes across . . . wrong. They're ice skating, for the record. Perv.]
'Oh, you want a leisurely turn around the ice? That's a good idea. Then everyone can see what a great couple we make.'"
WHAT.
A Moment with Kim: Diaper Changes We Can Believe In.
Do you guys feel good or bad about all the cheeky, "we're so very clever" celebrity PSAs? Do you feel like maybe they're kind of self-important, or perhaps that you're being talked down to and treated like you are so politically apathetic that you can only be spurred into action by footage of Christina Aguilera serenading her flag-draped baby?
You're not the only one who feels that way.
Okay, let me figure out a way to relate this post back to the BSC. Wait for it . . . wait for it . . .
(I know, the Photoshop skills continue to amaze. Consider the blatant horrendousness [I checked with Claudia, she's pretty sure this is a word] part of the joke.)Woah, looks like Obama's got a new campaign advisor in the final days of this absolutely critical presidential election! Good for him; he's gotta make sure he has all his bases covered, right?
"So Claudia, I'm kind of concerned about how to pull in the ignorant redneck vote. I mean, Palin's really charming them out there with all of that Joe Six-pack shit. How are we going to combat that crap?"
"I've been thinking about this all night while eating HoHos, and shortly before slipping into a sugar coma I came up with the solution. Here, I've created you a belt made entirely from flattened Budweiser cans and beef jerky."
"Wow, hiring you was the best thing that's happened to my campaign since McCain picked Palin! I think I'll keep you on as my Fashion Advisor. But you aren't allowed to do any writing. That spelling is atrocious. We'll get you a secretary or something."
When I sent in my voter registration form (well, change of address registration form) I wrote "Go Obama!" on the back and drew some hearts for emphasis. True story. I figured it would make the postman smile. It sure made me smile. And I bet I can make you smile, too: you're about to be Barack-rolled.
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#29: Mallory and the Mystery Diary
"That's why her diary's so big: it's full of secrets."
So, this gem is from the era before the Mystery sub-series appeared. And I can definitely see a modern day hipster wearing Mallory's cover outfit, (thanks dibbly-fresh) right down to the big dorky glasses. I've been trying to squint at the alarm clock - I think it says 10:30. I certainly hope that means 10:30 a.m., because 10:30 p.m. is waay past Buddy Barrett's bedtime and I don't care what his negligent mother says. What was up with Mrs. Barrett, by the way? Closet alcoholic? I know they always had to mention that she looked like a model, but that woman was a hot mess. Clean up your act, lady!
"Claudia is also one of the coolest dressers I know. She would never, ever get arrested by the Fashion Police. [What about the bungee cord belt?] She wears long, baggy sweaters, tight leggings [as opposed to loose leggings, obviously], dresses with flared [gasp!] skirts, little ballet slippers, and wild jewelry. She makes a lot of the jewelry herself."
I hate the fake-out. Those books where they'll give you some lamely vague style info but refuse to take the extra five minutes to combine a bowler hat with suspender-overalls, a space-dyed t-shirt, and a sequined cardigan, accessorized with a snake bracelet and a necklace made from feathers and Legos. I mean, really, is that so hard? It took me two minutes!
Oh, wait! We've actually hit the motherload, hidden in Chapter 9: another edition of What the BSC Wore!
I'm still skipping Kristy's outfit, by the way. I hold firm that if you don't know what she's wearing, then you have some independent studying to do.
"Jessi was wearing a long, heart-covered sweat shirt over her dance leotard [Jessi probably wears dance leotards in the shower] and a pair of pink pants that (although you couldn't see this) I knew were held up at the waist with a drawstring. I was wearing boring old jeans [watch your mouth!], but a top that I liked a lot - a big white long-sleeved t-shirt that said I [HEART] KIDS across the front."
Oh, MALLORY. Plus, who are they marketing that shirt for? Maybe I've been watching too much syndicated Law and Order: SVU, but I'm kinda creeped out here.
"Mary Anne, who can be pretty funky in her own shy way, was wearing a very cool short printed jumper over a striped shirt. You might think that those two things would clash, but they didn't. [If you're sure.] They looked great together The jumper was white with a small red print, and the shirt was white with narrow, widely-spaced stripes. Claudia called the outfit 'a fashion risk that worked.' [Oh. I guess she's the expert. Mallory, your opinion has been validated. For once.] Claud herself was wearing jeans, a plain white blouse , a pink sweater, white socks, and loafers. She said she'd gone back to the fifties for the day. [Well, come back, babe! You can do better!] Stacey, on the other hand, was in a much more typical outfit - a short sleeved blue-and-white jumpsuit [fact: babysitters love jumpsuits] with cuffed pants. Parts of it were striped, parts were solid. On her feet were high-topped sneakers laced only halfway up so that she could roll the tongue of the shoe down (extremely cool), plus she was wearing a lot of jewelry. I think Claud had made some of it for her.
Last but not least was Dawn, sitting backward in Claud's desk chair [fact: babysitters feel most comfortable when sitting backward in a desk chair], resting her arms on the top rung of the back. Her outfit was fairly normal - pants and a baggy sweat shirt - but on her head was a small straw hat! I couldn't believe it. Talk about fashion risks."
And yet . . . was there a payoff? Did this fashion risk work? You be the judge. Maybe you enjoy small straw hats. Bonnets, even.
"That's why her diary's so big: it's full of secrets."
So, this gem is from the era before the Mystery sub-series appeared. And I can definitely see a modern day hipster wearing Mallory's cover outfit, (thanks dibbly-fresh) right down to the big dorky glasses. I've been trying to squint at the alarm clock - I think it says 10:30. I certainly hope that means 10:30 a.m., because 10:30 p.m. is waay past Buddy Barrett's bedtime and I don't care what his negligent mother says. What was up with Mrs. Barrett, by the way? Closet alcoholic? I know they always had to mention that she looked like a model, but that woman was a hot mess. Clean up your act, lady!
"Claudia is also one of the coolest dressers I know. She would never, ever get arrested by the Fashion Police. [What about the bungee cord belt?] She wears long, baggy sweaters, tight leggings [as opposed to loose leggings, obviously], dresses with flared [gasp!] skirts, little ballet slippers, and wild jewelry. She makes a lot of the jewelry herself."
I hate the fake-out. Those books where they'll give you some lamely vague style info but refuse to take the extra five minutes to combine a bowler hat with suspender-overalls, a space-dyed t-shirt, and a sequined cardigan, accessorized with a snake bracelet and a necklace made from feathers and Legos. I mean, really, is that so hard? It took me two minutes!
Oh, wait! We've actually hit the motherload, hidden in Chapter 9: another edition of What the BSC Wore!
I'm still skipping Kristy's outfit, by the way. I hold firm that if you don't know what she's wearing, then you have some independent studying to do.
"Jessi was wearing a long, heart-covered sweat shirt over her dance leotard [Jessi probably wears dance leotards in the shower] and a pair of pink pants that (although you couldn't see this) I knew were held up at the waist with a drawstring. I was wearing boring old jeans [watch your mouth!], but a top that I liked a lot - a big white long-sleeved t-shirt that said I [HEART] KIDS across the front."
Oh, MALLORY. Plus, who are they marketing that shirt for? Maybe I've been watching too much syndicated Law and Order: SVU, but I'm kinda creeped out here.
"Mary Anne, who can be pretty funky in her own shy way, was wearing a very cool short printed jumper over a striped shirt. You might think that those two things would clash, but they didn't. [If you're sure.] They looked great together The jumper was white with a small red print, and the shirt was white with narrow, widely-spaced stripes. Claudia called the outfit 'a fashion risk that worked.' [Oh. I guess she's the expert. Mallory, your opinion has been validated. For once.] Claud herself was wearing jeans, a plain white blouse , a pink sweater, white socks, and loafers. She said she'd gone back to the fifties for the day. [Well, come back, babe! You can do better!] Stacey, on the other hand, was in a much more typical outfit - a short sleeved blue-and-white jumpsuit [fact: babysitters love jumpsuits] with cuffed pants. Parts of it were striped, parts were solid. On her feet were high-topped sneakers laced only halfway up so that she could roll the tongue of the shoe down (extremely cool), plus she was wearing a lot of jewelry. I think Claud had made some of it for her.
Last but not least was Dawn, sitting backward in Claud's desk chair [fact: babysitters feel most comfortable when sitting backward in a desk chair], resting her arms on the top rung of the back. Her outfit was fairly normal - pants and a baggy sweat shirt - but on her head was a small straw hat! I couldn't believe it. Talk about fashion risks."
And yet . . . was there a payoff? Did this fashion risk work? You be the judge. Maybe you enjoy small straw hats. Bonnets, even.
#27: Jessi and the Superbrat
Remember everyone: the Superbrat turned out to be Derek. Derek Masters, you aren't going to become a child star stereotype, are you? Ann M. Martin should definitely update the series for Our Modern Times, because I think it would be FABULOUS if Adult Stacey (who, let's face it, would be a total club rat and we both know it) happened upon Derek Masters and Mary Kate Olsen blowing lines in the VIP room at Hyde. It could be like when the Sweet Valley money-grubbers created the Sweet Valley University series and Jessica was having sex and getting married and I could not have imagined anything more scandalous, because that was a kinder, gentler time when Gossip Girl had not yet been invented. How fierce was Serena last night, BTW? (Did you notice my casual segue into Upper East Side gossip? I am getting better at hiding my true intentions: infecting everyone around me with the Gossip Girl Virus. Resistence is futile AND unfashionable.)
I wish I had better news about Claudia's fierceness level, but it is pretty low right now: "she had two french braids pulled back and wound into one. She's also a wild dresser. A that meeting she was wearing a bright pink t-shirt, a short red flouncy skirt, and underneath the skirt she had on black footless tights that she had rolled up to mid-calf."
Oh honey no. Calf-length leggings (footless tights, same difference) are even more hideous than regular leggings.
Well, that sure was a disappointment. Let's try to forget by having a Mini Moment with Kim. I should have written about this earlier, but I met a real life Claudia in my summer session class. It was amazing. Every day I'd be like "damn, I should be photographing this girl because my little blog readers are NEVER going to believe this shit."
Finally, on the last day of class, I took notes on her outfit - Ann M. Martin & Army of Ghostwriters style. (And yeah, I did get permission from her to post them.)
"Today, Julia had on a grey plaid jumper over a green t-shirt. There was writing on the t-shirt, so you could see a bit of the detailing peeking out over the jumper. Underneath, she was wearing a pair of cuffed grey jeans and old-school Adidas soccer sneakers. And, of course, she finished the outfit with a jelly headband made of overlapping hearts and a pink beaded necklace with a wrought iron pentagram pendant. On anyone else, the outfit might have looked strange or mismatched, but on Julia it was totally cool."
And it was.
And, because it's not an entry if I'm not pimping something: A friend of mine just released a new EP called The Stendhal Syndrome and it is pretty damn awesome. Go download it and then leave some comments. Preferably dirty ones, because it would amuse me. Joe would probably appreciate it also.
Remember everyone: the Superbrat turned out to be Derek. Derek Masters, you aren't going to become a child star stereotype, are you? Ann M. Martin should definitely update the series for Our Modern Times, because I think it would be FABULOUS if Adult Stacey (who, let's face it, would be a total club rat and we both know it) happened upon Derek Masters and Mary Kate Olsen blowing lines in the VIP room at Hyde. It could be like when the Sweet Valley money-grubbers created the Sweet Valley University series and Jessica was having sex and getting married and I could not have imagined anything more scandalous, because that was a kinder, gentler time when Gossip Girl had not yet been invented. How fierce was Serena last night, BTW? (Did you notice my casual segue into Upper East Side gossip? I am getting better at hiding my true intentions: infecting everyone around me with the Gossip Girl Virus. Resistence is futile AND unfashionable.)
I wish I had better news about Claudia's fierceness level, but it is pretty low right now: "she had two french braids pulled back and wound into one. She's also a wild dresser. A that meeting she was wearing a bright pink t-shirt, a short red flouncy skirt, and underneath the skirt she had on black footless tights that she had rolled up to mid-calf."
Oh honey no. Calf-length leggings (footless tights, same difference) are even more hideous than regular leggings.
Well, that sure was a disappointment. Let's try to forget by having a Mini Moment with Kim. I should have written about this earlier, but I met a real life Claudia in my summer session class. It was amazing. Every day I'd be like "damn, I should be photographing this girl because my little blog readers are NEVER going to believe this shit."
Finally, on the last day of class, I took notes on her outfit - Ann M. Martin & Army of Ghostwriters style. (And yeah, I did get permission from her to post them.)
"Today, Julia had on a grey plaid jumper over a green t-shirt. There was writing on the t-shirt, so you could see a bit of the detailing peeking out over the jumper. Underneath, she was wearing a pair of cuffed grey jeans and old-school Adidas soccer sneakers. And, of course, she finished the outfit with a jelly headband made of overlapping hearts and a pink beaded necklace with a wrought iron pentagram pendant. On anyone else, the outfit might have looked strange or mismatched, but on Julia it was totally cool."
And it was.
And, because it's not an entry if I'm not pimping something: A friend of mine just released a new EP called The Stendhal Syndrome and it is pretty damn awesome. Go download it and then leave some comments. Preferably dirty ones, because it would amuse me. Joe would probably appreciate it also.
A Moment with Kim: UMass First Day Fashion Report
There are so many parentheses in this entry. It is a parenthetical work of art, really. Prepare yourself. And how good was that Gossip Girl premiere last night? Admit it: when Blair wiped that tear away you found yourself getting a little misty.
One of the (many) wonderful things about being a part time student is that I have a lot of time on my hands (not exactly true, my job takes up a lot of time and energy and I am also really busy, you know, watching reality tv). So while ya'll are trying to figure out where Thompson is and how you're possibly going to handle three economics courses in one semester, I am mostly busy whistling and filing my nails. And people watching, by which I mean 'silent outfit critiquing.' But it's with love, I promise. I constantly have these inner battles where I'm like: "I love that bag. I should tell her. Will she be weirded out? I better not say anything."
Those of you who run street fashion blogs get mad kudos from me for having the guts to just approach people randomly.
One thing I've realized about people watching/silent outfit critiquing is that I need to be subtle about it. I mean, during the day it's not a problem; I just slap on a pair of obnoxiously large sunglasses and stare directly at you. However, this evening I'm waiting for the bus and the girl next to me has a really nice pair of jeans on. At first glance they're a fairly standard pair of medium blue straightlegs, but the back pocket detailing? Amazing. So I'm staring at the waistband of her jeans, trying to figure out what brand they are (why I don't know; I can barely afford to gas up my car right now, let alone buy new items of clothing). And then I realize that, to the casual observer, it would probably seem like I am totally fixated on her butt.
I felt pretty creepy after that. Sorry, girl with cute jeans*.
While I have your attention (assuming that I still have your attention), one minor rant: it was in the mid-80s today, if I remember my weather.com predictions accurately. And yet . . . girls in sweatpants. SWEATPANTS! Baggy, droopy-crotch, UMass logo sweatpants. I was baffled. It's bad enough seeing them during the other three seasons of the year (especially when they are paired with Uggs - my brain is bleeding just from the mental image), but already? Really? I mean, I guess if you're one of these Sweatpant Offenders, you could counter with "okay, Kim, I definitely saw you today wearing jeans, like you do almost every day." And my response, because I am a master debater, would be: "shut up."
The moral of this entry is that I love you all, except when you're wearing sweatpants. No, really, just in case anyone (besides Bethany) at UMass is reading this: this is a highly sarcastic blog / please do not hate me for my scathing mockery / feel free to make fun of me when I'm not wearing any jewelry (I don't consider myself dressed if I'm not wearing any jewelry. It's usually a sign that I'm having a bad day). I'm actually a nice person. Theoretically.
* Jean-related critique: If any guys (besides so@24, hollla) are reading this: please just say no to skinny jeans. Please. I haven't consulted any cobrasnake-style hipsters about it (maybe Cory Kennedy feels good about this trend, I don't know and I don't care to know), but every woman I survey about male skinny jeans responds like this: "ew they are so gross why do guys wear them they freak me out." Again, I will provide a strong counter-argument: "but Kim, you are all over that high-waisted crap like white on rice and I find that pretty heinous as well."
Master debater rebuttal? "You are wrong."
There are so many parentheses in this entry. It is a parenthetical work of art, really. Prepare yourself. And how good was that Gossip Girl premiere last night? Admit it: when Blair wiped that tear away you found yourself getting a little misty.
One of the (many) wonderful things about being a part time student is that I have a lot of time on my hands (not exactly true, my job takes up a lot of time and energy and I am also really busy, you know, watching reality tv). So while ya'll are trying to figure out where Thompson is and how you're possibly going to handle three economics courses in one semester, I am mostly busy whistling and filing my nails. And people watching, by which I mean 'silent outfit critiquing.' But it's with love, I promise. I constantly have these inner battles where I'm like: "I love that bag. I should tell her. Will she be weirded out? I better not say anything."
Those of you who run street fashion blogs get mad kudos from me for having the guts to just approach people randomly.
One thing I've realized about people watching/silent outfit critiquing is that I need to be subtle about it. I mean, during the day it's not a problem; I just slap on a pair of obnoxiously large sunglasses and stare directly at you. However, this evening I'm waiting for the bus and the girl next to me has a really nice pair of jeans on. At first glance they're a fairly standard pair of medium blue straightlegs, but the back pocket detailing? Amazing. So I'm staring at the waistband of her jeans, trying to figure out what brand they are (why I don't know; I can barely afford to gas up my car right now, let alone buy new items of clothing). And then I realize that, to the casual observer, it would probably seem like I am totally fixated on her butt.
I felt pretty creepy after that. Sorry, girl with cute jeans*.
While I have your attention (assuming that I still have your attention), one minor rant: it was in the mid-80s today, if I remember my weather.com predictions accurately. And yet . . . girls in sweatpants. SWEATPANTS! Baggy, droopy-crotch, UMass logo sweatpants. I was baffled. It's bad enough seeing them during the other three seasons of the year (especially when they are paired with Uggs - my brain is bleeding just from the mental image), but already? Really? I mean, I guess if you're one of these Sweatpant Offenders, you could counter with "okay, Kim, I definitely saw you today wearing jeans, like you do almost every day." And my response, because I am a master debater, would be: "shut up."
The moral of this entry is that I love you all, except when you're wearing sweatpants. No, really, just in case anyone (besides Bethany) at UMass is reading this: this is a highly sarcastic blog / please do not hate me for my scathing mockery / feel free to make fun of me when I'm not wearing any jewelry (I don't consider myself dressed if I'm not wearing any jewelry. It's usually a sign that I'm having a bad day). I'm actually a nice person. Theoretically.
* Jean-related critique: If any guys (besides so@24, hollla) are reading this: please just say no to skinny jeans. Please. I haven't consulted any cobrasnake-style hipsters about it (maybe Cory Kennedy feels good about this trend, I don't know and I don't care to know), but every woman I survey about male skinny jeans responds like this: "ew they are so gross why do guys wear them they freak me out." Again, I will provide a strong counter-argument: "but Kim, you are all over that high-waisted crap like white on rice and I find that pretty heinous as well."
Master debater rebuttal? "You are wrong."
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#18: Stacey's Mistake
I know I'm always full of excuses as to why I haven't updated ("My millionaire stepfather whisked me and four of my friends off to the Bahamas!" "I'm starring in the school production of Peter Pan!" "I got shipwrecked on a small island off the coast of Connecticut!"), but I actually have two semi-valid ones this time.
1. I just moved to my own place (it's pretty sweet, if I do say so myself) at the beginning of this month and all the pre- and post-move crap took over my life for a while.
2. I've been working on a few fashion related (though not BSC related) projects that I'm really excited about. "Sure you are, Kim," you say. And I don't blame you for that! But we can rebuild our trust. So, if you've ever wondered what my candy-filled club headquarters looked like, mosey on over to Catwalkqueen.tv and check out yours truly (okay, yours truly's closet, to be precise) answering the question of What's In [my] Wardrobe.
And now the book.
I know I'm always full of excuses as to why I haven't updated ("My millionaire stepfather whisked me and four of my friends off to the Bahamas!" "I'm starring in the school production of Peter Pan!" "I got shipwrecked on a small island off the coast of Connecticut!"), but I actually have two semi-valid ones this time.
1. I just moved to my own place (it's pretty sweet, if I do say so myself) at the beginning of this month and all the pre- and post-move crap took over my life for a while.
2. I've been working on a few fashion related (though not BSC related) projects that I'm really excited about. "Sure you are, Kim," you say. And I don't blame you for that! But we can rebuild our trust. So, if you've ever wondered what my candy-filled club headquarters looked like, mosey on over to Catwalkqueen.tv and check out yours truly (okay, yours truly's closet, to be precise) answering the question of What's In [my] Wardrobe.
And now the book.
"What should I wear in New York?" Claud asked once.
"What you wear in Connecticut," I told her.
"Exactly?"
"Believe me, you see everything in the city. Once I saw someone dressed as Batman."
"Maybe it was Batman," said Claudia, giggling. "But really. What will your friends wear to the party?"
[Where is this insecurity coming from? It's pretty out of character . . . usually she's only self-conscious about her, um, mental acuity.]
We weren't getting anywhere. "Wear your black outfit. That really cool one," I told her. Claudia has incredible clothes. And I wanted her to wear this outfit that was sleek and black and covered with silver stars and sparkles. [That is not helpful, Stacey. Even Kristy could come up with more details than that. Dress? Pants? . . . Jumpsuit?]
Later in the book, Mary Anne starts freaking out about Stacey's party and tells everyone Stacey has to tell them what to wear. Everyone's pretty WTF? about it, and Kristy suggests they wear their Hard Rock Cafe t-shirts. "They're as New York as you can get." Mary Anne then scowls at her and adds "You especially, Kristy. You wear what Stacey says." Kristy hopes that Stacey "says jeans, a sweater, a turtleneck, and sneakers, because that's all I brought. And who made you Fashion Boss of the World, anyway?"
This is an excellent question.
And this is a great example of why I love the early books. There was so much more drama!
". . . if it'll make you feel better, Mary Anne, I'll tell you what to wear. Let's see what you brought." (I glanced at Claudia's boxcar. She had just opened it and about twenty outfits had fallen out.) "And if there's anything you need to borrow," I added, "I'm sure Claudia will have it."
"Stacey," Claudia began coldly, "for your in-"
And then Dawn interrupts with some happy hippie peacemaker speech (kidding, she just tells everyone to calm down and concentrate on getting dressed, which is logical enough advice.). However, I'm not really here for recapping purposes (that little snitfit was too good to ignore, especially since it was clothing related), so let's move on to the outfits.
A half hour later we were ready. Well, maybe not ready, but at least we were dressed. Mary Anne looked at all of us (even me [!]) critically.
"Kristy, borrow an outfit from Claudia, okay?" she said. [Oh no she didn't. To quote Kathy Griffin: "I was raised right - I talk about people behind their backs. It's called manners."]
Kristy was wearing a white turtleneck with little red and blue hearts all over it [ . . . yeah, I owned that turtleneck], a red sweater, jeans, and sneakers.
"Claudia and I are not exactly the same size," said Kristy, who is not only quite short, but completely flat-chested. "Now get off my case."
"Okay, okay . . . Stacey, is it all right if Kristy wears that tonight?"
"Of course, I said.
Mary Anne continued her inspection. Claudia had on the black outfit we'd talked about over the phone so long ago. [Tell me more.] And she was wearing her hair simply, for once - [you're not going to tell me more, are you] brushed back from her face and held in place by a white beaded headband. [Blair Waldorf approves.] Dawn had chosen an oversized [
And what was Mary Anne, the fashion plate, wearing? Well, here's a clue. She looked like she'd walked right out of the pages of Little House on the Prairie. [Snap!] I had chosen a bright, big-patterned [read: Cosby] sweater and a pair of black pants for her. She'd looked at them, shaken her head, replaced them in her suitcase and put on this other outfit - a ruffly white blouse, a long paisley skirt, and these little brown boots.
In Mary Anne's defense, maybe she just borrowed Claudia's time machine for an afternoon. It seems like the fashion world is moving on from the 80s to the 90s right now, (which . . . I'm not sure how I feel about this, to be honest. I guess it's an excuse to start wearing my big clunky Doc Marten oxfords again? I don't know.) and she's pretty much got Sharon's look down pat. Stacey's opinion? It was very mature and attractive but, well, Mary Anne was the only one of my friends who, when dressed up, actually looked like she came from Connecticut. [Double snap.] We could tell, though, that the clothes were new and that she really wanted to wear them, so no one said anything to her, despite the grief she'd given us earlier.
Okay, one last pimp before I end this entry: my good friend Courtney Summers just released the book trailer for her debut novel, Cracked Up to Be. Ch-ch-check it out. And now I'm off to watch Big Brother, because that show is like crack to me.
#14: Hello, Mallory
For your consideration*, the first cover** to feature Ms. Mallory Pike. The girl can't catch a break, and she knows it. Look at her defeated eyes and slumped posture. And then there's Claudia, who is looking fierce. I'd probably call this bitchface on any other sitter, but Claud is just rockin' out. I'm gonna call shenanigans on the solid colored shirt, though. (No, I don't secretly work for American Apparel. It's just that the comparisons are really easy.) Where is the puffy paint? The beaded flamingo? Where are the Sequins of Creativity***?Mallory begins Chapter 2 by wondering what the revered thirteen year olds wear to their club meetings. Regrettably, she decides she should dress up. "I thought about Claudia and the other girls in the club. I was pretty sure that when they got dressed up, they wore trendy clothes like big, bright sweater-dresses or sparkly tops and tight pants." Well, except for Kristy. She wears lobster costumes.
"After standing in front of the closet for so long that Vanessa made a pig face at me while she choose her clothes [. . . okay], I finally decided on my red jumper that said Mallory across the front, a short-sleeved white blouse, and white tights with little red hearts all over them."
Oh man, I used to think articles of clothing with your name on them were the SHIT! I had one of the classic L.L.Bean backpacks with my initials on it, but I still longed for another that simply said Kimberly. I thought that would have been the very height of class. But back to the book, because it's about to get awesome:
"'You look like a Valentine,' Vanessa told me, but I didn't care."
A. You should have cared.
B. Scathing sartorial critique from Vanessa! She's doing my job for me. Nice.
Meeting time! Mallory tells us that "Claudia has pierced ears, uses makeup, and wears clothes my mother wouldn't even let me look at in stores, much less buy. Things like short, tight pants [shorts? capris? it's anyone's guess] with little ballet slippers, or torn t-shirts decorated with sequins [of creativity], or overalls and high-topped sneakers. And her jewelry! She has a bracelet that looks like a coiled snake, and earrings that are a dog for one ear and a bone for the other, and I don't know what else."
Oh, I know.
Mary Anne appears to have borrowed an outfit from Stacey again: "a baggy yellow sweater with a silver squiggle pin near the collar, a short skirt made out of sweat-shirt material, yellow tights, and ballet slippers." And we get another description of what it means to be California casual (here described as "kind of casual"): "baggy jeans with the cuffs rolled up, shirts with the tails out, and big belts." Mmm. Thrilling.
After Mallory's first meeting, Kristy drops her some helpful advice via the BSC notebook, which is kinda embarrassing since everyone's going to read it. This notebook entry has been lovingly recreated in Paint Shop Pro, because I'm not in the mood to mess with my scanner.
Speak for yourself, Thomas!Following this lesson in fashion, Mallory adjusts accordingly for the next meeting: "a pair of jeans, a sweat shirt that said I'D RATHER BE WRITING MY NOVEL, and a pair of sneakers. I figured I wouldn't look any better or worse [well. . .] than Kristy, and she was the president."
It only took one meeting to break Mallory's spirit. One! She's completely given up and is now resorting to the worst of all sartorial crimes: dressing for comfort. Comfort! The horror!
* I long to be on Team Griffin.
** from the dibbly-fresh gallery.
*** This is the title of either Claudia's next book, or the band she assembles in high school. You decide!
A Moment with Kim: THIS JUST IN
Luna Lovegood = Claudia Kishi's wizard counterpart. 
Two words: radish earrings.
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I've retained a troubling amount of information about books I read during my childhood.
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