Next Time I Shall Choose More Sensible Shoes

Well, I haven't really been writing a lot, considering that I had been posting 30 per month in January, so I'm going to do that some more.

Moving right along, yesterday my family and I went up to New York (not city, sadly) to look at the Storm King Sculpture Center. It's this gigantic outside museum in the middle of nowhere that displays sculptures in the woods and fields. The land itself is almost more beautiful than the art, which for me to say that, must make it nice, as I really don't appreciate nature and such too much. Even for someone who isn't a total art fanatic, the center is beautiful.

There were so very many statues just like these, everywhere you looked. I believe that they were done by the same artist--or else they were all done by artists who loved to copy each other. Not sure which. They were lovely because they looked different from every angle.

I thought that both the lake and the boat sitting on it were spectacular. I believe the boat once was practical for some type of sport in Australia, but that might be total rubbish I made up.

Like the sarcophagus of a half-giant encased in glass to protect from the nargles or something. I just liked this one.

There was some meaning to this, I remember they stopped the tram just to say it, but I don't remember so for the time being I'm just going to say it's pretty.

I found this terribly interesting, mainly because you could sit in it.

This looks like a flamingo from one angle, and then like some type of musical note from another.

The fake Easter Island head. I amused myself by pretending to pick its nose. So mature, I know.

Chocolate CAKE!!! Muahaha! I don't imagine the concrete and metal would taste all too great though...

It looks Japanese, but alas, is not.

My mother was misbehaving.

I just liked how the random rocks were strategically placed in the little meadow between the trees. It's as elegant as rocks can be.

This was my favorite because I'm still not quite sure how it works and because I really enjoyed standing under it, feeling invincible.

The view of the mountain/hills is magnificent.

It was like a little fern forest... We used to have a fern, and her name was Ferny. Then she died. Now we don't have a fern anymore.

POSING!!! Tory Burch tunic, Aqua shorts, Oakley shades, J. Crew Bag.

My mom's Hermés sandals. Let me just say that they were not the most sensible option, as we had to walk down and up hills in the forrest and this led to DIRT GETTING ON THEM. A sin of massive proportions. There is no denying that they are beautiful, though.

I have to go and kill that fly that's buzzing around my room now, it's driving me batty.

Ms. X Reigns Again

My favorite dead woman has delivered (well, not her, but you get what I mean) a second load of her possessions to the Bring N' Buy -- this time in handbags. To say that I am bursting with joy is not at all an exaggeration, but my love for the handbags is bittersweet. They are destined to go home with happy customers with a large wallet- not myself. It is a sobering fact that I must begin to come to terms with, as it's not very mature to grip a Zac Posen and refuse to let go. My mother had to scream at me several times before I let go of the soft, supple leather handle.

Simply put, without all the word shenanigans that I love, this bag is beautiful. It is Zac Posen, and cost over a thousand dollars retail. Sadly, this is just a smidgen out of my price range. Puh. Although you surely can't tell from my photo, it is crafted of the finest leather I have ever had the pleasure to touch. Magnificent. There are details around every single square inch yet it doesn't seem over-crowded or over-done. The bow on the front provides all the femininity, but the chain strap brings it back. It is God-made for me.

(Close up of the strap) Theee perfect bag- I feel blessed to have it in my presence. In fact, if it doesn't sell soon I'm afraid I'm going to have to pull a fast one on my own mother and take it.

Another Zac that I'm not quite as smitten with. I think that it's gets me a little uncomfortable because of the geometricality (is it a word?) of the shape and just the general design in the middle.

Goodness I'm freckly. These were her clip- on earrings that she never wore. I like the idea of clip ons, just not putting it into action. I feel that they always manage to fall off me and I end up looking like a pirate all day because NO ONE EVER TELLS ME!!! Sorry. These amused me for some reason and I'm not sure why. Perhaps it's because they are just so over-the- top and ridiculous. They did start to hurt my earlobes after a few minutes of wearing them though.

The one I'm wearing is clearly Fendi, but I don't remember the names of the designers of these bags, I just remember that they are Italian and from Saks. They are rather gorgeous though, aren't they?

There are seriously boxes of designer handbags with tags still on at the Bring N' Buy, all from the lovely and mysterious Ms. X. I will be the first one to say, however, that she had a problem.

This handbag isn't one of hers. It's Patti's own little Louis Vuitton (real, may I add...) and I only added this because I thought she was looking snazzy.

my apologies to those of you who care

Well, I haven't really posted anything in like a week, but I do have an explanation. I got that awful stomach virus on Friday so I have been reduced to watching seven hours of Law and Order straight on the floor of my basement. And as much as I love that show, you can only stare mindlessly at a screen, seeing countless vics (oh yes, I use the proper terminology, thank you very much) die violently before you begin to lose your mind.

Alrighty, so here was my outfit on Friday, when I was still well enough to get out of the house.

My mother's Vineyard Vines shirt, my own Vineyard Vines belt, J.Crew shorts, Ralph Lauren socks.

I was channeling that 50's preppy look again that I am so very obsessed with. I think buttoning the top button made it far more preppy than it was already, even with the Vineyard Vines all over, just because it looked that much nerdier. I was going to wear my fake Chinatown glasses, but I thought that would perhaps push the theme a bit too far.

I believe that I am becoming a bit too attached to those oxfords. It's getting to the point now where I wear them once a week--sometimes more. I'm worried. My infatuation with them makes me worried that I'll end up scratching them or something. That would utterly destroy me. DESTROY. I think they are my favorite shoes! This is pushing my usual limitations, as I never chose favorites for fear of hurting the other shoes' feelings. I would be petrified that the other shoes would become jealous and kill me in the dead of night, like that doll, Chucky. I've never actually seen that movie, but I get the general gist of it, anyway. This is why my closet doors must stay closed every night. Just in case they do find out I am betraying them, I doubt they are strong enough to pull open the door.

Or are they???

There is really no purpose to adding these photos, I just like that it looks like I'm defying gravity in the first one (although it's really just my laziness that caused it {I didn't feel like editing, you see}), and that in the second I look like some sort of ghost. Spooky.

and what have we here? part two

I lied. Last night I was too tired and too immersed in S.V.U. to even consider using my brain for anything at all. So, this is the continuation of my Chanel posting.

Bits of my favorite part of the collection. The fabrics are so ethereally beautiful, floating in the breeze... The models remind me of smily little beach nymphs, not the angry ones that hide in the woods and bite your ears. That wouldn't be all that fun, I think. I also love the way that they don't have shoes, it's more of a foot jewelry. I would love to try to wear this lovely foot jewelry- but I wonder if it's comfortable? How would it manage to stay on? I don't think they were intended for practical use, but the styling gives it more of the resort feel, as well as the blue toe polish.

I like big hats that entirely block the sun. These are especially pleasant when your skin is of the pasty type and burns easily. I have quite a bit of experience in that field, actually.

It's the classic Chanel tweed, with a summer twist. I would just die if I were to be allowed to wear that beautiful jumpsuit, with the matching blazer. Die. I would, however, change the color because yellow doesn't go too well with the pasty skin mentioned earlier. Besides that, it's perfect. It is such magnificently conservative fabric, but the concept of the jumpsuit is so much more trendy and young. I absolutely adore the contrast. If I were some sort of primitive animal, I would be frothing at the mouth at the thought. Thankfully, I am a tad more sophisticated. Just a tad.

The über Greek gladiator sandals and toe rings (which I usually oppose), also truly complete the other looks.

To conclude, I love Chanel.

and what have we here? part one

I have looked through the Chanel Resort show maybe eighty times now, and I find I am incredibly opinionated about how I feel about the collection. However, I am also exceptionally lazy tonight and I'm afraid I just don't have the energy to go through everything from the eighty seven looks. So, below are photos of what I don't like, (note that there is a very small amount of pictures), and I'll continue the posting tomorrow.

I'm sorry- and I nearly always stand by Karl's ideas and designs, because, well, he's a genius, but I am not prepared to pretend even for a moment that I think this is even slightly attractive. It's ridiculous looking (although I'm sure you couldn't find a better crafted garment...) and almost seems to belong to a very different show(Chico's, perhaps?). The boobage is troubling and it upsets my stomach. Sorry.

I was disappointed when I saw this. It was like BAM! BAM! BAM! high fashion slide after slide, and then I get to, well, a mall chick. The sweater and the boots are great, sure, but a denim skirt? She would fit in seamlessly at any mall in America. I admit, she'd probably stand out a bit because of the high quality of the clothes, but if you took away that- there's a girl dressed for walking around at the mall. I mean, really? Is that what we've come to here? This is not what I've grown to accept from Chanel.

There is something wrong here. I don't get it, and it bothers me. I felt like I really understood the rest of the show- but this look has me positively baffled. Baffled. I'm perfectly fine with the bathing suit and cover-up, but the boots...the boots.... the boots. I get where they came from, the black toe-cover is iconic and classic. I love the ruffles or bunches (I can't entirely identify what they are from this angle), but the fabric and the height of them? I don't know what to do about it. I mean, really I'm not actually going to do anything about it, I just need to understand for my own sanity. I personally think that there could not be a more unflattering boot for that girl, so why did the magnificent Karl do it? I wonder, do they really actually look great on her, but only Karl can see it? Are the rest of us just dumb? Is he laughing at the foolish people in his kingdom who can't understand it as I type? I'm afraid I will never know.

a very quick outfit posting

Sorry the picture quality is so dreadful. It was 7:30 in the morning and I was running late for the bus... but I really wanted a picture of my outfit so that I would remember and be able to recycle it. No one was available for photo time, so I cleverly took a picture of myself and my dear mannequin, Minerva, in my mirror.

Wearing some recently acquired AG jeans that I love, Kenzie wedges, a Gap jean jacket, and my mom's old El Che t-shirt.

I honestly had no idea I was wearing Fidel Castro's co-conspiritor's face all day. I mean, I knew he had something to do with something in Latin America (because of the el, mainly,[three years of Spanish has not been wasted on me!]), but I had no idea he was related to all these communism shenanigans.

Well, I have a Vogue and a W Magazine waiting for me by my bed- turns out I underestimated the power of Stop and Shop in Ridgefield. They have a wonderful assortment of fashion magazines.

an O.C.D./A.D.D attack has led to my disgruntlement

The other day- to my ultimate surprise, I had what some would call an spaz attack. I decided I hated my room and that it needed to be fixed. At that very moment. In about an hour I had successfully managed to entirely rip my room to shreds. It was lovely. I wish I had pictures of it, but I was a little too full of my occasional attention deficit disorder to stop for even a minute.

In the end, I ended up breaking my bed frame (breaking, yes), stupidly falling off a bench and smacking my head on a night table (there is a bump on my head now -but you don't care about that), and sending my beautiful magazine collection to it's ultimate doom - the landfill. I had a collection of Vanity Fairs from three years ago to the present issue stacked neatly under my bed (I like the questionnaires in the back...), thick W's from 1993, maybe thirty Teen Vogues, and countless others. I can't imagine where they are now, scared and alone, waiting to be thrown in the incinerator, probably. I shudder to think of them now. I had at the least something that I loved about each of those issues... and I destroyed them. You can understand my frustration.

I replay the moment I threw them away in my mind now, because I do that. You won't need these, I thought. They're just more junk on you're floor... you've read them each twelve times... And alas, I gave into the devil on my shoulder.

The lesson to be learned from this (and I know I sound like some kindergarten teacher, but bear with me,) is that hoarding things is a good thing. We like hoarding, especially of fashion related things. It's nice, and it makes us feel all warm and fuzzy inside- like that 1-800-Flowers guy would say to us. When I had my maybe 100 magazines stashed under my bed, there was always something to read when all my housewives shows aren't on. Now all I have left to do is finish Harry Potter 4 again- which believe me, I was going to do anyway, but some variation is always nice. Do not give into your O.C.D. tendencies, as I have, they will end in you're ultimate demise.

Maybe that's a little dramatic. Well, I plan to go to Barnes and Noble in Danbury tomorrow after school to try to restock a little bit- as we don't have any stores in Ridgefield that sell W- to my knowledge at least.

a discovery of large proportion

I know I haven't posted in a week- because I've been spending all my usual computer time searching for hotel and airfare rates to Paris. It's seriously been hours upon hours of searching for fares that would never be low enough. So I guess it looks like we aren't going after all. Sigh. I'm disappointed and all, but really I only had my hopes up for three weeks, so it's not that bad. I just never EVER want to look at those frustrating travel websites EVER again. They give me migraines.

To continue, I was reminded for some reason the other day, I remembered a major style revelation I had, say two...three years ago? It was the moment where I realized my taste for fashion. It was in New York, (which really goes without saying- would I be inspired by anything in Ridgefield? I think not.) and I was walking through the NYU campus, perhaps on the way to lunch or something... when a student walked by. It was mesmerizing. She was wearing a sheer lace tunic (not totally unlike the Anna Sui spring 2006, below) over a black bra with black tights, knee high boots, and a leather jacket. She had bleached blonde scraggly hair wrapped up in a bun with a cigarette in her hand and a book bag in another. She stopped, I remember, to give someone else her lighter.

I don't know what it was about it- why those images are ingrained into my mind now, but I have theories. I think that everything about the outfit was just so wrong, wrong in every way that I'd ever thought there could be, living in the heart of suburbia. She was breaking all the unspoken clothing rules that come with living in a small town. She was showing skin and undergarments, she wasn't wearing proper pants, and there was far too much leather to be allowed. Not to mention the state of her hair and the smoking habits.

But then it clicked. It was right, because it was different and individualistic and maddeningly full of her-whoever she was. She wasn't limited to wearing the things that society would prefer her to in order to blend in. She was defying that unspoken rule. It all made sense then. Fashion is a way of expression, to show who you are, not who people would like you to be. It's a way to stand out and be your own person, whoever it is. Fashion is that way you can be an individual in a dull suburb, and remind yourself that you don't have to be part of the bland and blah. That was when I discovered that I loved fashion.

The Gloriously Dead King Tutankhamun

Confession: I didn't go to school today. Not because I was sick, no, but because I wanted to go see the mummified remains of King Tut in a museum in the city. A real, live (well, not necessarily live, but you get my point) mummy. I was excited, to say the least.

I got a little less excited when I was informed that there is no flash photography allowed anywhere near the artifacts, as it can dull them or something bizarre along those lines. I suggested just turning my flash off, but apparently, that will also do sufficient damage. I mean, they've been exposed to all sorts of bugs and such since 131 BC, so how could a little camera flash really hurt that much more? All I wanted was a few simple pictured of me next to a real, dead pharaoh and all his golden toys to prove I was there, but no, the museum people had to go and ruin my fun.

We did, however get photos a safe distance from all the dead folk, but my computer doesn't seem to want to download those now, so I'll show them another time.

Then, thinking I was so clever, I looked up photos of the Egyptian objects to show you here- but then I realized that there would be no proper photos because of the stupid rules. I feel less clever now. But, I did manage to find photos of the replica statues. It's not the same as a photo of a dead king with me in the background, but, close enough.

Sorry, the real ones were far more interesting- that is, when you could see them. About half of the other King Tut seers somehow thought that they were entitled to block entire exhibits with their largeness, and press their noses against the glass, as though somehow they would be able to get closer if they did. You could say this annoyed me, but that's probably putting it lightly.

(google photo)

Ah, and that is the great pharaoh now. He was in this glass case, unwrapped, which was honestly a little disturbing because I thought he'd be safe in his sarcophagus. He's pretty well preserved for a thousand something year old man, right? But I don't imagine when he thought of passing on he imagined that he'd be stuck in a claustrophobic little glass box for children to ogle at him all day. That doesn't seem all too fun, even for a dead man. I still don't know how he looks so... not like part of the Earth. I don't want to look that good at that age- by then I'd like to be dirt, thank you very much.