An Interview With Me, Myself, And I

5cf15ebda54c470e2d5631b0158cd12fAhh to be a celebrity … excuse me while I put my hand to my chin and daydream whilst staring out my window wide-eyed in Never Never Land. Something you should know about me … I have a secret obsession with celebrity culture. For example I was walking out of Starbucks this morning on my way to work and saw this black SUV with blacked out windows and immediately assumed Justin Timberlake was inside … clearly. I had my fingers crossed that he would roll down the window as I strolled by, ask me my name, and then casually ask for my hand in marriage after he divorced Biel … but :::sigh::: that never did happened.

But it is fun to imagine yourself as a celebrity … someone who sits in blacked our SUVs and gets swarms of people wanting to interview them. And after reading an inspiring article from Man Repeller, I got to thinking about how another writer would portray a play-by-play with me if I happened to be worthy of an interview with Vogue Magazine … :::swoon::: could you even imagine?!

And after a little thinking and getting in touch with my awkward tendencies, here is how I believe my interview would go, coming from another writer’s perspective:

“Kate strutted into Starbucks with full-blown Bitchy Resting Face, phone in hand, bundled in all black like she was heading from a funeral in the North Pole, and an awkward piece of hair sticking straight out between where her ear and sunglasses arm met. It was clearly bothering her as I watched her fail numerous times as she tried to tuck it away. She barely made it to the table before slipping on the slick marble flooring, but casually caught herself and played it off like a model who just bit it on the catwalk and had to keep going. The shame was hidden by the sunglasses … but the embarrassment was exposed by her bright red cheeks.

The RBF washed away from Kate’s face the minute she removed her sunglasses, smiled, and attempted to shake my hand, but realized she was now holding her cell phone AND sunglasses, so instead went for a strange side, half fist bump with the opposite hand and laughed off the awkward encounter.

After she sat down and got comfortable, she placed her iPhone next to her tea glass, and compulsively kept checking it like she was waiting for a phone call, text or email, but in reality just seemed like a twitch because, alas, no one was calling, texting or emailing her. Every 10 minutes or so she was uncross her long legs and would hit her knee on the table, causing her pain that she tried to hide, even though I heard a soft “son of a bitch,” escape her sigh almost every time. In between questions she would take a sip of her black tea, which I assumed matched her outfit and soul, and a little would slip through her lips and onto her sheer top, which she tried not to cause attention to by crossing her arms in an attempt to wipe it away.”

I’m a classically awkward celeb, aren’t I? Anyways it is fun to dig deep into your true self and express how you would handle a big time interview. Of course all of us would love to stroll in, on time, dipped in Chanel with every perfect answer ready to jump off our red lips that wouldn’t lose their color whilst we sipped our tea, am I right? But the cookie doesn’t crumble like that. The cookie, indeed, leaves crumbs on my H&M blouse.

Now it’s your turn, how would you handle being interviewed?

Looking Into My Crystal Ball O’ Fashion

Sometimes I think about people who survived the 70′s and 80′s and how they look back and cringe over the outfits they chose to wear. Bell bottoms, power suits, leg warmers, neon everything, acid washed this, punk rock plaid that. Now I only endured three whole years of the 80′s myself, which consisted of me wearing mostly OshKosh and Esprit … so clearly I was the epitome of adorable :::hair flip::: so I have nothing to worry about.

But why do we partake in certain trends if we know sometime down the road we will either be made fun of for what we wore, or end up making fun of ourselves … like how our parents and grandparents get flack for pornstaches, shoulder pads, and Aqua Net infused hair styles. Well kids, it is because we want to be cool. And unfortunately what sets the standards for “cool” is what comes off the high fashion runways. And unfortunately … again … some of those trends just shouldn’t trickle down to gen pop, am I right? But they do … and we make them work for the sake of being “cool.” And if you don’t agree, well then prepare yourselves for my wave of shame.

The wave of shame will have to wait, though, for now I would like to take the role as a fashion soothsayer and predict just what trends will make me cry, eye roll, and want to drink in decades to come:

Ombre Hair: Yes, kids … not only did I dive into the ombre trend head first, but I did my OWN ombre. And after 8 months, one hair cut, and one dye job … I still cannot get rid of the ombre. It’s fall. I’m over the ombre convo, personally. And when people who aren’t even born yet (ew) question why I thought it was a cool idea to dye the bottom of my hair a lighter color … I sadly won’t have an answer for them :::sigh:::

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Nail Art: Who needs a canvas when I can express myself with my nails :::jazz hands::: The question is … how many colorful geometric shapes can I have on one nail?! And psh let’s be real, you aren’t anything unless you basically have the God damn Mona Lisa painted on your middle finger nail while the others are painted in a metallic chevron print. Throw flowers on them. Put a bird on it! There. Is. No. Such. Thing. As. Too. Much.

CaptureLiquid Leggings: These seem like a great idea … especially when you don’t have the balls to buy a pair of real leather pants because deep down you know you aren’t Mick Jagger … nor will you ever be. Enter liquid leggings stage right … in every. Color. So cat woman, eat your heart out … you are about to see every delicious nook and cranny of my ass. And when my children, children’s children, children’s children’s children come across pictures of me rocking said pair of liquid leggings with a shirt that isn’t quite long enough to cover my ass fully … they will be thrown into a spiral of night terrors so intense no amount of therapy will ever help them recover.

sandy-in-greaseDIY: In 20-30 years, Pinterest will be the new Atari. And DIY-ing will be the new bedazzling. You heard it here first, kids.

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Crop Tops: I’m only including this because they forcefully make a come back every couple of decades. Think about it … 50′s/60′s, late 80′s/early 90′s … and if my math is correct (which it probably isn’t because I am an idiot when it comes to math), around 2033-ish will be when they make another come back after we banish them away in a few months. And when your kid refers to your old Urban Outfitters crop top as “vintage”, I hope you have a box of Kleenex and a bottle of Jack next to you.

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Arm Parties: Every time I say “arm party” in my head, I immediately feel this urge to jump up and dance like Carlton from the Fresh Prince of Bel Air to “Wake Me Up Before You Go Go.” I’m all about arm parties. I think blending the right watches, bangles and bracelets together is amazing … with that being said, I guarantee in 20-30 years this will be considered the new “neon” or “wearing more than one watch.” But never fear, generations to come will revive it and the Man Repeller’s legacy will live on loud and proud.

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Heel-less Heels: Thanks for this one, Lady Gaga. Love, your little monsters who are now in their mid-forties with their podiatrists on speed dial. GASP is that a claw?! Nope … that’s just my foot.
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Hey … Remember 2001?!

imagesWhether you were a teenager 5, 10, 15, 20 … etc. etc. etc., :::cough::: … years ago, there is probably a part of you that would love to hop in the DeLorean and bitch slap your younger self. Why? Because you were an idiot. Admit it. Laugh, take a sip of wine, and admit it … for the love.

During a very “stylish chat” with fellow bloggers today, it made me think about my time as a teen. Yeesh. That’s all I have to say about that. I was in the throes of my teenage years during the zeros? The 00′s? The early 2000′s? What the hell are we calling that decade anyways? Whatever … regardless, the saying, “I wish that I knew what I know now, like when I was younger,” is so true. I wish my 26-year-old self could tap my 13-18 year-old self on the shoulder and say something like, “Ey you, stop acting a fool. Kay thanks, byeeeee.” But alas, that kind of technology hasn’t been invented yet.

So if I could hop in my fire engine red DeLorean and stop myself from doing idiotic things … here’s what they would be … ahem:

1. Chill With The “OMG’s” and “WTF’s”: The chances of you and your friend or frenemy that spread the rumor around school that you once made out with a hot dog (Mean Girls … ayeoooo), still being friends outside of your teenage-dom … is slim to none. You’ll walk away with two, maybe three friends from high school. “No no no … but we are like best frien …” I’m going to stop you there. You don’t think you’ll lose touch, but you will. College will happen, new friends will swoop in, then internship friends, then real life friends … then you’ll be saying high school who? Right. So chill with the drama. For reals … this “real world” your teachers and parents keep talking to you about does actually exist … and blows. Badly. Save your tears and reality TV drama moments for when you get verbally beat down by your boss for the first time. Boom.

2. Wear Your Damn Rubber Bands/Retainer: Because when you’re 26, your bottom teeth will be jacked. And you will be pissed that you went through all that pain to have your teeth go back to the way God intended them to be. Like really pissed. Now you have to start pricing out God damn Invisalign so you don’t have to look like Faith Hill at the Grammy’s.

3. Get. Out. Of. The. Sun: Wrinkles aren’t just for mom-mom’s. And skin tags … they really do exist. And for the love of Jesus, you’ll still get tan whilst wearing SPF 30. And my GOD no one gives a shit that you have a tan line of a Playboy bunny on your hip from the tanning salon. Cancer. Yeah … that’s a real thing too. Hats. Umbrellas. SPF 70. I don’t care what the hell you do … just take care of your skin, for the love of God. Hmmm people liking me because I’m sun-kissed … or cancer? People liking me because I’m sun-kissed … or cancer?

4. Stop Giving A Shit What People Think: It won’t matter. Ever. Like never ever. You think those girls gossiping in the corner before Home Room will haunt you the rest of your life? Nope. The minute you get handed your diploma, they will fall into the dark abyss of your memory never to return again (unless you want to rock your reunion … which I don’t suggest … unless you really want to stick it to them, then go for the gold). Wear what you want, and don’t just give in to trends because everyone else is doing it. Not expressing yourself will be the biggest regret of them all. Instead of standing out, you will fade into the velour cloud of Juicy sweat suits. Vom.

5. Start Becoming One With Healthy Foods: Your fab metabolism … won’t last forever. No matter how long you think it will … it won’t. Your ass will start giggling, you will get stretch marks, and all because you got addicted to shit food and soft drinks in your younger years. Humus, meet mouth … mouth … meet humus.

P.S.: Stop thinking you are going to move to New York City to become J. Lo’s next back up dancer, draining your mother’s bank account with hours of dance lessons and $90 dance costumes made of plether and other very flammable fabrics. Instead … hit the yoga studio. ASAP. Kay, thanks.

5. Tell Name Brands To Suck It: There will be this mystical store in the future called Forever 21 that will be a game changer, where you can get fashion forward, rich looking outfits … for literally nothing. Brands like Juicy Couture, Hard Tail, Michael Stars, Mavi, Seven, etc. … won’t mean anything. Also, teenagers shouldn’t carry around designer handbags unless they can buy it for themselves, they happen to have rock stars for parents, or they did something like cure cancer. Otherwise it just looks ridiculous. Word.

Now if only my actual adult self could come calm my on-edge 26-year-old ass and tell me everything was going to a-okay and that I would end up publishing Life Sucks In A Strapless Bra, and ride off into the sunset on a unicorn with Justin Timberlake.

The Vanillas …

Have you ever come across a girl you can’t help but compare yourself to? For me, I always find myself up against the vanilla girls. I’m sure you’ve come across a couple in your life, and if you haven’t well, that is fabulous for you. The vanilla girls are always put together. They can walk into a room without a drop of makeup on and just say, “oops I didn’t have time to put it on this morning, oh well” and not even blink. Claim to be fabulously fashion forward and say Audrey Hepburn is their style icon. Their perfect hair is NEVER out-of-place … EVER. They aren’t funny, slightly serious if anything. Stains never land on any article of clothing they own and if, God forbid, it does happen, they have a Tide stick in arms reach to heal this issue. Their clothing is always ironed to perfection. When they laugh, it seems the right gust of wind always comes along to move their hair to and fro as they fling their head back and forth smiling and caring on in what seems to be slow motion.

And then here I am. I like to think that ever female has some sort of fantastic sparkle to them. It could be something terribly tiny, but just SOMETHING that makes them stand out from the crowd. I also don’t like to believe in things like “perfection,” since, for me at least, it seems highly unobtainable and not worth the blood, sweat and tears it takes to obtain. Because I believe when you do obtain it … you turn vanilla.

So here are just some reasons why I find myself to not be a “vanilla girl”:

1. I’m disheveled. I move at a million miles a second and therefore always have a flaw with my outfit. Hell, I feel like it gives it character. It is either I’m wrinkled or I have a stain or hole on my dress, or I have red pen on my sleeve. Regardless, something is always out-of-place. Perhaps I should slow down.

2. I hate ironing. Yes, I invested in a steamer and adore it, but even that sometimes doesn’t do the trick. By the end of the day I look like I took off my dress, crumbled it up in a ball, threw it on the ground, walked all over it and then slipped it back on.

3. I curse … a lot … including the “F” word. (Sorry mom/family … it’s sad but true, although you probably know this)

4. When I laugh really hard my eyes tear up and I cry, whilst laughing … which then leads me to look like a hot mess. The right gust of wind might come to move my hair in a sexy fashion that will most likely end up getting caught in my fabulous lip gloss. I could fling my head back, but I would probably knock someone out or pull something in my neck. But yes, when I laugh I sometimes have mascara running down my face … but I believe a good laugh is totally worth it.

5. I’m Alexander McQueen … not Ann Taylor.

6. If I don’t have makeup on … I feel naked. I can’t pull a, “OH MY GOD, I’m running so late … I’ll just do my makeup when I get there,” because I will feel like a crazed hyena when I get “there.”

7. My hair always looks like I rolled around in the backseat of my car for a couple of hours. When I am thinking about something, I’ll run my fingers through my hair, or try to give it more volume which will just make it look like I have out-of-control sex hair. I just want more volume, dammit.

8. I’m more fascinated with the abstract, not the simple.

9. I dig my chunky, over-the-top, outlandish accessories. Like high heels with studs on the back of them that could potentially hurt someone or black over the knee leather boots.

10. My nails are rarely painted properly. They are either chipped or, if I have a second, I most likely just covered up the chipped parts with the same color as I was flying out the door to leave for work. Sorry, no time for french manicures :::yawn:::

I think, as females, we all strive to reach some level of perfection. But like I said before, it just is an unobtainable thing. Women kill themselves daily to have the right hair, makeup, clothing, accessories just for the sake of “fitting in,”  and I absolutely do not exclude myself from that statement. Yes, I sometimes let myself get carried away with comparing my style to these “vanilla girls,” but all this comparing and contrasting has just made me become one with my so-called “flaws,” because that is who I am, and at the end of the day the “vanilla” look just doesn’t suite me. Flaws are beautiful, no matter how abnormal or dysfunctional they may be, they are you, so get used to it. Even under all of those pretty dresses, proper hats and beautiful smile, Kate Middleton probably has some really unattractive quality about her, like eating potato chips in bed or something crazed like that.

Own your flaws ladies, they are gorg. I sure as hell am.

Dressing For You

I need to preface this post by saying I am not a feminist nor am I a man hater. I don’t keep a copy of “The Feminine Mystique” by my bed and “Jagged Little Pill” is not set on repeat on my iTouch (even though it is a fabulous album). I love men, they truly are a fabulous thing.

With that being said, I just read an article about trends ladies rock that men apparently loathe … and to that I said, really? :::Sigh::: Okay, so with age you begin to realize certain things you used to spend hours and hours worrying about are, in reality, not that big of a deal. I realize I am freshly 25 and have numerous things left to learn in life, but I have picked up at least one very important piece of information that I feel compelled to share. Grab a piece of paper and a pen, put this in the “Notes” section of your iPhone, Tweet it … do what you must with it. Ahem: FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, DON’T LET BOYS DICTATE YOUR STYLE … ever. 

I’m going to confess that only recently did I start dressing for myself. Sure, I buy pieces and have days where I question if people will point and laugh at what I’m wearing like we are back in the second grade. But sometimes you just need to step outside of the situation and realize, hey, we aren’t in the second grade, and if anyone makes fun of what you are wearing after, oh I dunno, you are 10 years old … then they need some serious help. But more times than not, if I want to wear a toned down tuxedo to work, I will rock it with four-inch heels. But back in the day, meaning high school and parts of college, I would dress for everyone but myself.

So three years out of college, I now have the confidence to say if you are with a guy who either A. doesn’t like your style and/or B. dumps you because of what you wear, then simply file him under “jackass” and move on to someone who not only loves you for you, but isn’t so shallow as to shun you simply for your taste in clothes. I mean for crying out loud.

So, in regards to what I wear or what girls in general wear, here is what I could care less about, dudes:

1. If you hate that I rock menswear sometimes, even if it is made for women. Six words: Madonna in the video for Vogue.

2. If you are intimidated by my four-inch heels. I realize barefoot I’m 5’9, but tall people deserve to wear to die for heels, too. And let me tell you a little secret, where the shoes come off … I go back to being 5’9, shhh.

3. If you think I wear too much makeup or not enough makeup at all. I love makeup, but let me see you apply blush in all the right places and produce a fantastic smokey eye … good luck, guy.

4. If you think maxi skirts and dresses make me look like I’m from the 1800′s.

5. If you wished I would wear more color. It isn’t that I’m depressed or gothic, black is just fantastically chic. Karl Lagerfeld gets it, why can’t you?

6. If you wish I wouldn’t wear socks with high heels. Okay, fine … MAYBE I can give you an inch on this one. But it is a ballsy fashion statement.

7. If you think my wardrobe has too much sparkle … literally. No I’m not a backup dancer for Cher, sequins are chic and happy … in moderation, of course.

8. If you want me to have manicures that are either pink, red or French. Just because I wear navy, grey, black and or dark purple polish doesn’t mean I’m going to run out and get a stud through my nose. I’m still me, my nails just get bored.

9. That you hate that my clothes aren’t always ultra tight. Being fashion forward means that some garments are expected to be a bit on the baggy side. My lady lumps are still there, I promise.

10. If my outfit doesn’t match by conventional terms. So what if I have a striped shirt on with a leopard print cardigan over it. It makes sense … I promise.

I will end this by saying Lady Gaga has a boyfriend and the genius blogger behind Man Repeller is engaged. Wear what makes you happy, ladies. The right men will follow … and hopefully the others will fall on their face chasing after you or running in the opposite direction from your “cray cray” fashion sense.