if you only knew two ways to wear plaid....

here's a hundred more. Now you have no excuse to throw on a plaid shirt, a bandage skirt and call it a day because if these don't inspire you to branch out just a leetttleee then...well... tear.

I'm trying to wean myself off of Fops and Dandies by drowning myself in FRUiTS, but that is just not going to happen. Am I the only one who is saving every outfit post of hers to my computer, or am I just being particularly stalkerish?


Anyway, I think if you want to be an ass and categorize, a formula to epic outfits such as these would go as follows:

Asian Genetics + Plaid + Belly Button Shoes + Wicked Styling + Better Than Everyone Else at Everything Possible = Outfit

Because this isn't too far from the subject, the awesome people at SHIFT.jp emailed me and now I am so stoked (reading gnarlitude religiously = ripping off your word, please don't set your dog on me Jen) for the Pictoplasma NYC exhibit in September. And the 1000 girls snap is also tres awesome. Do check it out. Hey Abigail, we can go to Pictoplasma and pretend we're culturally active! Hell yeah!

it's ninety nine cents or less...and up

WARNING: EXTREMELY BORED TEENAGER WITH NO SCRIPT. I got bored after I got home and I found my piggy bank. I didn't edit the video so it is not at it's true "WAT" potential. I kind of lost my marbles in the last 10 seconds so you'd best ignore that.

A better woman than I would not post this video, because of something called dignity and self-preservation. I lack both so it's no problem. In before the definition of prenuptial, I know what it is. >_>

I'm lame and I have nothing in particular to write about today other than I'M TEENVOGUE GIRL OF THE WEEK and I FOUND A NEW THRIFT STORE. Chhhhkayeah.
Look, a TV'r.... man I hate puns.

Anyway, the new thrift is kind of a hellhole and extremely tiny but I don't care, it's new and it's named "G-Ma's Thrift Storeplace" and how can that be wrong. I can imagine so many shady things happening in the back of G-ma's. Like... illegal poker with old ladies (using vintage brooches as coins) and smoking lavender. I'll be visiting it tommorow for a thorough examination and conversation with G-ma herself, because she has a a Jewfro and John Lennon glasses and I seriously cannot resist that.

Also, here are my favorite pictures of the moment. You can click on them to be directed to their flickr.

I really enjoy this person's work in particular.


So those are today's pictures. I have a neverending love for gloomy, it's obvious.

Also, Disney Roller Girl has a great post on NEW trends, check it out. And for the super amazing awesome Amerley, HI! You made my day.

I've been getting a few emails from people wanting to know more about me so to make my life and yours a little bit easier I'll just do a Q&A post: ask and you shall be answered.

Cheers!

beware of the rambling fashion sheep.

Fashion condemns us to many follies; the greatest is to make ourselves its slave.
Napoleon Bonaparte

Hi, my name is Belle and I am a slave to fashion. For a long while, I was oblivious. I went through a phase where I would dress only in luxurious and outrageous layers of petticoats and dresses--all floral, by the way. I would never leave the house without a bonnet. I still have the dress from when I was five, that I would refuse to eat for days because sometimes I wouldn't fit into it. If I had any chance in hell that I could fit into it today I would probably still be doing it.

Then, I went through a phase where I hated dresses. I mean, throw a dress at me and I would melt and writhe and growl and scream. This is also known as my ''emo bitch'' phase, in which middle school involved being a teacher's pet and applying eyeliner haphazardly because I thought it made my eyes look bigger. (What was I thinking?)

Looking back I realize I haven't changed much--I love dressing up, and I love dressing down. The middle ground is the boring part. But now, it's like I'm so aware of what's in and whats out that I sometimes I can't enjoy myself and what I'm wearing because I judge myself so critically. All I'm seeing is tribal prints (too bold? too frumpy?) and then floral (grandma chic or trashy ho?) and who I'm dressing up as (is that you, Kate Moss? is that you, Lou Doillon?). It gets tiring after awhile.

I'm not saying I don't love being around all of this, knowing what I know. I've come to really appreciate what people in the Industry do. There's something to be said for someone who can predict the trends and get them to print, organize photoshoots and style them and not go insane after years. Hell, I've only been obsessed for maybe a year or two and I can't even imagine what it must be like to be this crazy and get paid for it.

It's just that when I wake up in the morning, I don't want to be more aware of the trends than I am of school. Fashion and the people that deal with it have given me so much to smile about; I know it's the reason my parents are together still and the art form I am most likely to go into if any at all. Still, I'm a little scared at the thought of sacrificing my personal identity to that of what I'm told is what is in fashion right now. I don't want to care about that. I want to put on what looks and feels right on instinct, not by any persuasion.

The fact remains, though, that I am always going to be influenced by the words of others in the Fashion Industry. How could I not be? And I admit it wholeheartedly--I am a fashion pirate, after all. I don't think I'll ever be instinctively stylish like those I look up to so much; you either have it or you don't.

Maybe I do have it, but it's just buried underneath all the obsession over bullshit trends and it items. I've just got to breathe and look for it. I've got to try not to follow the crowd.

So, my mission indefinitely: embrace what I like and what I am for the right reasons-and don't put up with anything less.