It’s like the very first time.

8 Feb

Tomorrow, I am meeting my boyfriend’s parents for the first time. We live in the city, they live in the country, and we’ve never had the time to coordinate a meeting in the last six months. This is a big deal to me. I have to look the part and be witty and charming and lovely and convince his parents I am good enough for their youngest son. Of course, he insists they will love me, just be myself, and the like. Yeah, right. Anyways, I have been agonizing over the right outfit for this auspicious meeting for weeks now. I wanted to put something together that complements my personality, my hair, my skin, and stays true to my style while toning it down enough that I don’t look crazy to their country sensibilities. This is what I came up with:

this is the night

I am obsessed with color blocking right now, and I think this is a great color combination. The bright, richly saturated colors are really bold and in your face, but the classic shapes make it more approachable. I brought the intensity down by sticking with black accessories. The patent belt and shoes are a nice texture to complement the satiny sheen of the skirt and make the cotton shirt feel more dressy. I don’t want to look too sexy and I definitely don’t want his mom to refer to me as “his sex kitten”, which she apparently did to his last girlfriend. Mission accomplished!


Above all this one’s for you.

4 Feb

Most of my weekends are spent driving to and from bars and clubs in my city, dragging cables and microphones in and out of the trunk of a car, and ordering pints upon pints of Guinness. No, I am not that cool, but the band my boyfriend plays in is. He plays in an Irish punk band that has been compared to the Pogues, which is a huge honor in the Irish music world. The band consists of 6 men and 1 woman, and they are all wildly talented. I love watching them play and being a part of their group. I also love the opportunity to play girlfriend of the band every weekend and try outfits that wouldn’t necessarily work on campus.
This is my typical show night outfit: a skirt or dress in some cool fabric, a girly top (usually in pink) and my trademark leopard print flats. I love the slightly rough, badass feel of this skirt, and the light pink detailed tops, tucked in and paired with flat shoes perfect for dancing a jig or carrying a snare drum, make it feel feminine and light.Most of the people at these type of shows are in jeans and tees, so I really stand out in the crowd. I don’t mind, and neither does my boyfriend.
My competition most the time is one guy who always shows up in a kilt. Let’s be honest, it’s hard to compete with a skinny shirtless dude in a skirt.

I'll have a pint

I am going to try and post a new out every other day, as my schedule allows. I love taking inspiration from places, colors, texture, even quotes. So, if you have any suggestions, post in the comments! I would love to get out of my own head and into someone else’s.

A post featuring something I actually own.

1 Feb

Dress (see more lace dresses)

My special Valentine’s Day date dress. This is my first Valentine’s Day with a significant other. We made reservations at this little place downtown, pre-ordered the scallops, and rented him a suit for the occasion. (At my not super subtle suggestion.) In the year that we have been together, I have seen him in a pair of dress pants once. And they weren’t even his. He borrowed them from his rounder, shorter roommate. So this is a big step for him, wearing clothes that actually fit.

P.S. It’s probably pretty apparent to anyone who reads more than my most recent post that there isn’t really a rhyme or reason to this blog. I am experimenting with some different styles, formats, and topics. One day it will all click. I hope.


1 Feb

Today, I was getting ready to walk out the door to my French class when I was stopped by my charming, albeit idiotic roommate. She was resplendent in her leggings, Uggs, and university sweatshirt coupled with a messy bun high on her head and the requisite Northface jacket hanging over her arm.

“Why are you so dressed up?” she said in her saccharine sweet tone.

I glanced down at my outfit. Raspberry colored cotton long sleeved dress, wide black belt, black tights, cheetah print flats. Pretty simple, or so I thought.

“I guess…I like this dress?” I offered.

Oh, you’re one of those girls,” she simpered.

One of those girls? One of the millions of girls in this world who wake up every day and think, Hm, what shall I wear today? One of those girls who takes pride in the way they look and want to present an image other than that of the sloppy college student? Yes. I am one of those girls I guess. Thank you.

Here is a close approximation of what I was wearing during this conversation:


Cute, right? I thought so.

When did it become offensive to get dressed in the morning? What has happened to my generation? We are a population that lives in fur boots and fleece jackets. Why? Can we just not be bothered to open out closets anymore? What are we afraid of?

A total kick in the ass.

27 Jan

I had a really intense conversation with myself yesterday. I said to myself, listen, you are 22 years old. You are graduating in a year. Get your shit together. Everyone has a dream or a goal. You know what yours is. I know it’s scary as hell to pick yourself up and actually do it. You are the queen of excuses. Just figure it out. If you don’t, you will regret it your entire life. 

I have never actually been terrified of losing or failing at something the way I am terrified of regretting 22 years of life making choices. It’s  so hard to admit what I want. It’s not unique or earth shattering. It’s even hard for me to write here, anonymously on the internet. I am even scared of strangers judging me. I am not ready to write it down yet. I can think it in my head all day long and day dream about it, but actually making it a reality makes me break out in hives.


I am scared to fail.

I am scared to succeed.


10 Jan

Defintions were big when I was a kid. We we didn’t know something, or asked what a word meant, the answer was a resounding, “Look it up!” I will never forget the great jig/gig debate of 2005. My dad insisted that “jig” was in fact pronounced “gig”. Nope. I knew I had this one in the bag as I dragged the five inch thick Merriam Webster dictionary we inherited from my dad’s great aunt Madeline to the dining room table. Victory ensued, and I proceeded make the poor man eat crow for days. I still bring it up from time to time, just in case the conversation gets boring.

It seems now that some defintions aren’t always black and white. Take, for example, the definition of “hipster”. According to, a hipster is ” a person, especially during the 1950s, characterized by aparticularly strong sense of alienation from most establishedsocial activities and relationships.” Now then.

If we ask, they have this to say “.One who possesses tastes, social attitudes, and opinions deemed cool by the cool. (Note: it is no longer recommended that one use the term “cool”; a Hipster would instead say “deck.”) The Hipster walks among the masses in daily life but is not a part of them and shuns or reduces to kitsch anything held dear by the mainstream. A Hipster ideally possesses no more than 2% body fat. ”

-The Hipster Handbook, Robert Lanham



A t my school, there is an abundance of these types of people. A majority of them are in my women’s studies class, and their favorite book is The Bell Jar by Sylvia Plath. Hm. Astounding. I was immediately cast aside for admitting my favorite book is a Nora Roberts novel. I can’t help it that I appreciate well developed characters dashed with a touch of fantasy. They all sat in their chairs, unbrushed hair, many, many layers of random articles of clothing, topped off with thick framed glasses and huge scarves, judging me. Of course, I made matters worse by pulling out my Kindle and using that to read along with the class. One girl actually said, ” I just really love the Dewey Decimal System.” I stared at her and nodded, but in my head I was thinking, when was the last time you used the Dewey Decimal System? It’s archaic and I know the school library doesn’t use it. So you are sitting here judging my 3 ounce e-reader that currently holds 40 books in its library, while you drag around five novels and two textbooks in your super cool knit bag that is giving you a hunchback! I know it’s weird, but I just really love the convenience of my little piece of electronica. Oh, and sorry I forgot my floppy knit hat and chai tea. You really are the worst kind of cliche.

I just really love my Kindle. It doesn’t make me less intelligent than you, or make me some sort of book hater. I wish people would leave it alone.


10 Jan

Ah, the first day of a new semester. All the status updates detailing schedules, bemoaning early morning classes, afternoon classes, and really just any classes in general. And of course the zealous students who are just returning to school after a hiatus, claiming “I love school!” and, “Can’t wait to start learning!” Let us all pause for a moment while I call bullshit on that. I used to be excited about new semesters too. Instead of one chance to reinvent myself every nine months, I got the chance to blossom into who I was “supposed” to be every 15 weeks! Imagine my delight in my second semester of college, returning to my sterile, newly constructed apartment, full of good intentions and aspiring to new, nay unreachable heights.

Fast forward three years. I should be organizing my new notebooks and textbooks right now, yet here I am, staring at my closet and keeping one eye on my new Urban Decay Book of Shadows eye palette. I unearthed a pair of white skinny jeans from the back of the deep abyss that houses my garments and now I can’t stop thinking about them. Those jeans, plus my new eyeshadows, makes it hard for me for to sleep at night, which is not great when I have to be up at 7 A.M. most mornings. They call to me, shining in the dark, pristine white, skinny and high waisted, just begging for a loose knit pink sweater and a copper smoky eye. I am too excited to sleep. Well, not really. I stopped being too excited to sleep when I found out the Halloween fairy was really my mom and she was stealing my candy, not taking it to Candyland and replacing my sweets with trinkets.

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