amanda lee dot orgconsumption | amanda lee dot org

Style Song: 8.25.2010

amanda_lee — Wed, 25 Aug 2010 20:46:35 +0000

[ALDO Mondier - Women Ankle Boots, photo from Amazon]

My suede ankle booties are old;
Unable to be re-soled
I need a new pair
So I’ve got them to wear
As soon as the weather gets cold.

Style Song: 8.4.2010

amanda_lee — Wed, 04 Aug 2010 21:35:31 +0000

This is a new thing I’m trying – flexing some writing muscles while ogling fashion goodies. Let me know what you think!

[source]

When I first laid eyes on this cloak
My vanity it did provoke
Where regal meets punk
With first-rate sparkly junk
I’d buy it, but then I’d be broke.

Avoiding Fashion Impulse Buys

amanda_lee — Tue, 03 Aug 2010 02:47:24 +0000

[source]

Impulse buying: we’ve all done it. Maybe you can’t resist a deal, and there happened to be a sale rack chock-full of awesome tops, so you grabbed eighteen. Maybe you didn’t realize you already had a navy sheath dress, ’cause it was buried behind a winter coat. Maybe you wanted to wear your favorite blazer on a cool day, but it was dirty – so you popped into a Gap to get a similar one. And maybe you didn’t realize this morning when you got dressed that tonight you’d be having drinks with Philip Seymour Hoffman, but now that you’re on your way to meet up with him, the plaid dress you’re wearing is definitely not chic enough – so you’ve gotta get something else.

I used to be especially guilty of the latter. I’d get off work at the Art Students League, wearing scrubby clothes [because it's an art studio and I learned early on not to wear anything important there, lest it become covered in shades of chromium green and lead white], and then I’d get a text from my friends: “Dancing! You coming?!” “Sure.” So before I could meet up in my paint-splattered glory, I might have run by Forever 21 to get some new threads.

Obviously, I could have avoided this by thinking ahead: “It’s Thursday. On Thursdays my besties like to meet up to drink vodka until we can’t see and dance until we can’t stand up. I should bring my Vegas leggings to wear.” But I didn’t, which was dumb. There’s no way I can go back over my banking records to see how much this habit cost me, but I’m sure it’s a lot.

From talking to my friends, I’m fairly sure that this behavior is common, and if not this particular one, then one of the others up in the list. I know at least one boy who, in order to avoid doing laundry, routinely made trips to Urban Outfitters in college to pick up new tees and underwear. So let’s figure out why we do it, and then stop, so we can be more conscious of our fashion purchases. Right? Yeah? Okay.

Know what you have. Know what you need. This is why outfit photos and wardrobe clean-outs are so important, y’all – if you don’t know what you have, you have no idea what you’ll need, and you’ll invariably waste money on stuff you’ll never wear.

Know what you’ll be doing so you can dress appropriately. We are far past the time when your outfits corresponded to the time of day. An afternoon dress isn’t that much different from something you’d wear for dinner. Save for a house-building expedition or a formal affair, you should be able to dress for nearly any occasion in an outfit that fits, flatters you, and makes you feel great, with a killer [and comfy] pair of shoes.

Stick to your style. Be realistic. We made style inspiration guides to define our style trajectories, remember? This means we should all be clear on what we want to wear, but just as importantly what we don’t. There’s nothing wrong with sartorial adventurousness, but be honest – are you really going to wear that purple sequin tube dress anywhere besides your best friend’s annual tacky clothing party? Do you really have the fortitude to wear 4-inch heeled boots? Will you wear that wool coat more than a couple times a year if you live in L.A.?

Do your damn laundry. I don’t know how else to say it. I know it sucks. I know it’s no fun. If you’re really, really opposed to it, think about sending out your laundry [which is exactly what I'm going to do the very second I get back to New York]. Real Simple had a piece last month about how often you should wash different pieces of clothing, so give it a glance – you might be able to wear it a few more times before you toss it in the hamper.

Be realistic about what you can store. I definitely see the appeal of buying good quality pieces at cheaper prices, so if you stumble upon a sale, get a few items. But don’t even think about if it means your closet will burst at the seams. Storing too much clothing in a small space means that it’ll all get crushed and wrinkled, so you’ll have to do more work – ironing, steaming – before you wear it.

Leave your credit cards at home.If you really, really have a problem with impulse buys, don’t allow yourself even the slightest option of buying. I don’t have any credit cards anymore, but personal finance gurus recommend freezing your cards in a brick of ice in your freezer – so that you really, really have to think about whether you need something rather than just plunking the card out of your wallet.

Know your pitfalls, so you can avoid them. If you can’t walk past a perfume counter without buying an ounce of something, you know you need to enter and exit the department store another way. If you love lingerie but already have enough for six honeymoons, skip out on a trip to Kiki de Montparnasse. One of my terrible old pitfalls was office supplies – I’d raid the office superstores at back-to-school time for batches of neat pens, funky-colored binder clips, folders, and notebooks. I used a lot of it, but I ended up giving a lot of it away. And now that I’m trying to live paper-free, I’m really regretting all the money I spent on it.

Practice conscious spending. If you’re focusing on what you can’t buy, you’ll never be happy. Instead, think this way: “I’ve skipped out on buying fancy shoes this month so I can afford a trip to Paris.” “I’m paying for a sweet-ass apartment – I don’t need new clothes!” “I bought a really nice dupioni silk dress instead of buying seven tops from Target.” Conscious spending means spending on what’s important to us. And fashion is important [obvs, or else I wouldn't be writing this], but not always the most important. So think before you buy.

Do you or did you have an issue with impulse buying? How do/did you deal with it? Share your stories below!

What I Wore: 7.25.2010

amanda_lee — Thu, 29 Jul 2010 15:47:35 +0000

Were you all stoked for the Mad Men premiere Sunday night? I definitely was. I’d been in Louisville visiting friends and parents, and upon discovering that my parents actually have a television and hence, I’d be able to watch it with the rest of the television-having world, I jumped for joy. In any case, here’s what I wore Saturday, in honor of Betty Draper. [Of course, now she's married to a politician so she's wearing a lot more suits, which aren't as fun.]

Blouse, vintage
Skirt, Tulle
Hat, vintage
Shoes, DV by Dolce Vita [on sale, y'all. seventy percent off.]
Two-finger ring, H&M
Circle ring, Avon

I’ve had this shirt for years. Seeing it in the photograph makes me think I need to take it in on the sides. It is polyester, meaning I was sweating my heart out in the ten minutes it took me to take this group of photos.

I got this hat at my favorite local vintage shop, which unfortunately doesn’t have a web page or an online store – pity! I bought about ten hats for four or five bucks each on that day, and I wish I wore them more often.

I ordered this Tulle skirt in both blue and black. I’m loving the shape, but I think they need crinolines to avoid looking droopy. I’m looking for a crinoline in an appropriate length. [Do you have one to spare? Hook a sister up.] My bandmate Hilly also bought the blue one. I think I smell a new band uniform.

The two-finger ring was an impulse buy at H&M. I call it my legal brass knuckles. The circle ring came from a friend of mine who sold Avon in college – she gave me some of her old sample jewelry.

I am now officially the girl who buys shoes on her lunch break at work, as you already know. I’m not wearing them on my commute or on regular office days, but I did wear them out to a bar and out dancing Friday and Saturday night, and my feet didn’t get too sore. I can’t wait to wear them with colorful tights peeking through in the fall.

[Psst: all these photos are courtesy of my good friend Molly Ann Chroneos. If you need any wedding or event photos, she's your girl.]

OMG Shoes: DV by Dolce Vita

amanda_lee — Wed, 28 Jul 2010 03:33:41 +0000

So, right now I’m working on a PR/web communications contract at a nonprofit. Most every day I either bring my lunch or I get to eat the leftovers from one of many conferences and catered meetings held in our building. Easy on the wallet, and pretty healthy, too, as a health care foundation isn’t likely to serve me junk.

But last week, I found myself without lunch plans. So I walked over to grab some new mascara at the Nordstrom in the shopping center across the street. And then I found these.

These DV by Dolce Vita wedges were on sale for almost seventy percent off their original price. They are hip and comfortable and I love them lots.

I wore them out last Friday to Neons with some of my bandmates, and then Saturday to Ramsi’s with Ben and Molly on Saturday.

Later this week I’ll show you the outfit I wore them with.

How to Do More With the Clothes You Have [Instead of Buying More]

amanda_lee — Tue, 27 Jul 2010 03:48:39 +0000

Know what you have. This sounds like an utterly idiotic suggestion, but here’s a tip: if I’d gone on a thrifting expedition before last summer, I might have come away with eleven different dresses that I wanted. Now, though, I might grab two, because even though I’ve pared down my wardrobe a lot since then, the current dress count in my closet is more than I’d like to admit. [The same is true for my handful of white blouses, which I tend to forget about if they're not clean, pressed, and mended - like if they're missing buttons - and then I'm all "OMG! I have nothing to WEAR! WHINE!"] Knowing what you have is the counterpart to knowing what you need, because it tells you what you don’t need.

[A related side note: This is another reason why you should really be taking wardrobe pictures. Since my camera died on me last fall I wasn't as good about this all winter as I should have been, but now that I've got the Cybershot I'm taking them more regularly. It's superhelpful to have a comprehensive database of everything you own and wear at your fingertips whenever you're shopping. Keep it on your iPod or your phone, or at the very least bring a friend along who can say, "Dude, you already own eight striped tops. Do you really need another one?" This way, not only can you effectively imagine what goes with what…you can see, for instance, that instead of buying that navy blue dress in your hand, you should wear one of the three navy blue dresses in your closet. I used to be very, very guilty of this, and when I started doing wardrobe pictures, I got better.]
Remember why you bought the things you bought. Remember when you got your red sweater? You bought it because it was neatly folded and brightly colored and displayed next to identical sweaters in green, pink, yellow, and purple. It seemed like a great addition to your wardrobe—it goes with neutrals! It goes with brights! It goes with prints!—and besides, it was chilly that day and you’d forgotten your jacket. It’s difficult to remember this, though, when that red sweater is now missing two buttons and crumpled in a pile on your floor. [Full disclosure: This actually happened to me, and I'm really ashamed. The sweater has since been fixed and is getting tons of use every day to ward off chilly days that are not quite chilly enough for a jacket. Which brings me to my next point...]
Make it easy to use what you have. If your favorite shirtdress is missing a button on the day you need to wear it, you’re not going to be able to. If you only own two pairs of jeans [like I do] and one of them has a broken zipper, your sartorial choices are going to be severely limited. If you get an awesome broken-in vintage t-shirt and then later find out that it’s totally see-through, you won’t be able to wear it until you get a flesh-colored bra. If you forgot to take the darts out of your blazer when you hit the seventh month of your pregnancy, you’re certainly not going to be able to wear it at thirty-eight weeks. If every single pair of tights you own is waiting to be washed, you’re not going to have anything to wear under your pants on cold days, so you’re going to freeze your bum off. In short, make sure that everything you own is properly fitted, in good repair, and laundered, pressed, and hung or folded neatly, and that you have everything you need to make a piece work.
If you can’t use what you have, turn it into something you canuse. Take the maxi dress you inherited from your sister and hem it to a cute cocktail length if you’re not a floor-skimming kind of gal. Have a friend replace the buttons on a cardigan if you don’t like them. Put darts in a blouse that’s cute but too big for you. Cut off the way-too-mini-dress and make a brand-new blouse. [Psst: Want some inspiration in this area? Check out A New Dress A Day. She's adorable, and she's making over one vintage dress a day for a year. Brilliant!]
Use all of it. If you own a dress, two skirts, three blouses, and three pairs of pants, think about how many ways you can combine all of that. [Blouse 1 with Pants 1; Blouse 2 with Pants 1; Blouse 3 with Pants 1; Blouse 1 over Dress; Dress over Pants 2; Blouse 3 with Skirt 2...] Now think about how much that tiny wardrobe expands when you add in sweaters, coats, scarves, tights, socks, and shoes. Mix up what you have, and your wardrobe will go further. [Admittedly, this is a lot easier to do in the winter than in our current ninety-degree hellaciousness.]
Buy smart. When you have to buy new clothes, don’t buy things you can’t use, or won’t use, or don’t want to use. Be consistent with your style [that's why we made a style inspiration guide, remember?]. Don’t buy things that are cheap, see-through, hard to care for, and difficult to wear more than one way. Opt for things you’ll wear a lot rather than things you only plan to wear a few times. You might have to spend more per piece, but the cost per wear might be lower.

How do you guys stretch your wardrobes further?

Clothing I Remember Owning

amanda_lee — Tue, 20 Jul 2010 15:44:27 +0000

[source. I've used this photo tons of times, and it never gets old.]

It’s only recently that I’ve been a huge adherent to daily outfit photos. I wish I had more photos of me as a kid, because fashion was just as important to me then as it is now. Here’s some of the clothing that sticks out in my mind when I think about my favorite things to wear when I was younger:

A pair of silver Unlisted wedge heels that I wore to prom, and then to every formal dance I attended throughout college.

A pale blue crushed velvet short-sleeve a-line dress with turtleneck. I wore it to homecoming with my friend Corey freshman year.

Crepe de chine slides with beaded dragonflies embroidered on their sides. I wore them until they fell apart.

I had a lot of clothes with dragonflies and butterflies on them. Most came from the Delia’s catalogue. I also had an enamel butterfly hair clip that I once wore with flared jeans and a tank top and my teacher said I looked like a flower child.

I had a couple of corduroy jumpers from American Eagle that I’d gotten at a discount at Valu-City. I didn’t tell anyone where they were from.

I remember when my mother told me in fifth grade that I shouldn’t tell anyone we shopped at Goodwill. In retrospect, I see now that she wasn’t ashamed of it; she was merely protecting me from the judgment of some of my spoiled classmates [whose parents didn't have the word "no" in their vocabulary].

The red poodle skirt my mum made whose poodle fell off and who had been washed so many times it was covered in little balls of felt.

The matching shorter blue poodle skirt she’d made me when I was younger, but that I still wore. [I wish I still had these.]

The sneakers with lights on them. I wore them for the first half of sixth grade. After that, my feet grew, and I got my first pair of knockoff Chuck Taylors – plaid high tops. I bought them on the eve of one of the biggest snows we’d ever had in Louisville, so I wore them indoors for the entire time we were stranded at our house.

The red dress I wore on picture day in kindergarten. After high school, I ran into a classmate from kindergarten, who remembered me by that red dress.

The white Old Navy dress and cardigan I wore for Easter the year my mum got sick, and then again for graduation, and then again for sorority initiation.

The black suit I bought for interviews and then wore for formal events until my mum died, where I wore it and read an Adrienne Rich poem instead of something from scripture.

The bike shorts I didn’t have the confidence to wear in public after I turned eleven and got weird about my thighs. [It should be noted that I'm a pretty skinny girl, but that doesn't make me any less weird about my thighs.]

The sequin-fronted dance costume I wore onstage and felt like a complete baller. The similar pink leotard with tulle sleeves and a matching detachable tulle skirt that I wore in class.

The blue nail polish I got at age seven. I’d seen it in one of my first issues of Sassy, and I loved that I’d never seen anyone wearing anything like it.

The gold nail polish I got at age eleven. My best friend and I painted our nails and then went to the pool.

The Chic jeans with the back seams and heart-shaped pockets that I used to tight-roll around my ankles and wear with a huge Middletown Elementary sweatshirt. My best friend had identical ones.

The green striped slip dress that I bought on clearance and wore in the summertime for years. I also wore it as part of my Margot Tenenbaum costume one Halloween.

The blue handbag from college that fit a reporter’s notebook perfectly.

The dress my mum made me with a black bodice and a gold lame-printed skirt. I wore it to the holiday dance in seventh grade, and I felt hopelessly juvenile around the other girls in my grade, who looked a little bit inappropriate in dresses they’d gotten from the homecoming section of our local department store.

The white feather boa I carried to prom. The tiara that went with it.

The innumerable rhinestone earrings I’d gotten for fifty cents or a dollar whenever a store was closing. I wore them in ballet class and sometimes onstage.

My first sexy underpants – four pair of sateen briefs from Victoria’s Secret, with a couple of matching bras. These were requested as a holiday present with my then-current boyfriend in mind, who turned out to be not really worth the trouble.

The one-piece Speedo suits I used to wear when I was tense about my body, and the two-piece boy short-and-halter combos I wore before I ever thought to be. The boy-short-and-halter combo I bought when I realized that I would never be a swimmer and that I’m thinner and in better shape than eighty percent of all women, so I don’t have a damn thing to worry about.

The eyeliner I used to sneak on before school in sixth grade. My mom had told me I could wear lipstick and mascara, but no eyeshadow. However, she never said anything about eyeliner, not even when I asked her to buy me some on her next Avon order.

The denim jumper I always seemed to be wearing in third-grade phys ed, and the somersaults I used to avoid doing as a result.

The pajama pant-and-tank top set I used to have with polar bears printed all over it.

The orange terry cloth robe I bought for the dorm that barely covered my bum. A true Don’t Show-cha Your Cho-Cha moment, indeed.

The music festival t-shirts that my dad had gotten free from an event that he worked in three different colors. I wore them at least three days a week.

The plaid flannels that I wore in my oh-so-brief grunge fashion phase. [I distinguish my grunge fashion phase from my grunge music phase because the fashion lasted me about eight weeks in seventh grade before I grew tired of feeling unkempt, and the music didn't really speak to me until I was well into college.] My best guy friend and my secret crush had a flannel in an identical plaid pattern. About three times during that year, we wore them on the same day. When it happened, I pretended I didn’t see him.

The navy blue crew-neck with cap sleeves I wore for my very first round of theatrical head shots. They turned out badly and I ended up using my school portrait instead.

The white canvas rubber-soled sneakers – cheap but trendy and long-lasting. I wore them with white jeans almost all the time.

The very first things I bought from Aeropostale – a navy shirt with trees embroidered on the front and a pair of relaxed-fit jeans.

The drop-waisted paisley-print dress I wore to my best friend’s rehearsal dinner.

The plaid linen shorts I bought at an outlet in Gatlinburg during a youth group retreat in sixth grade, which my classmates teased mercilessly.

The pink bow earrings that I lost on the night I held hands with my first boy. [He later became my first boyfriend. And much later, he became a standup commedian.]

The pink sweatshirt that my best friend had splatterpainted for me. After we stopped being friends, I stopped wearing it, but I kept it for a long time.

The heeled flip-flops I bought at Express and then walked until the heels wore down to the taps during the summer after college.

The white skirt with rainbow stripes that I used to wear with tank tops during my first trips to Cincinnati.

The grey twill dress with salmon and baby blue trim and bird embroidery. The zipper on it always stuck.

The Minnesota hoodie that I had to buy because I went to Minneapolis in May thinking it would be hot, but was sorely mistaken. I lost it sometime after 2005 and I have no idea what happened to it.

A pair of denim shorts printed with stars and moons. I wore them with navy tops and gold celestial-themed jewelry.

Infinite numbers of white roll-down socks. I kept them all long after I started favoring tights over socks.

Sam and Libby bow flats in seventeen different colors. I attached elastic ankle straps to some of them so they looked more like ballet shoes.

A pink yoked bubble skirt with an elastic waist that I used for a rehearsal skirt when I used to practice for Nutcracker auditions in my parents’ living room. Sometimes I wore a crinoline underneath.

A black tank top with flecks of glitter that I’d bought at 579. I wore it with black capris from Express, silver jewelry, and black plastic slide shoes. Clearly this outfit was based on Stacey McGill’s best friend Laine.

Numerous, countless pocket tees. I had them in about eighty different colors between kindergarten and fifth grade. My outfit on the first day of sixth grade was supposed to have been a pocket tee with my favorite jeans and sandals, but my mum [who worked at my middle school] and some of my teachers guilted me into wearing a Crosby Middle School t-shirt I’d received at orientation.

My black wind suit I wore over my dance team uniform on game days. [Because clearly eleven-year-olds shouldn't roam the middle school hallways in sequins and spandex.]

A striped baja jacket I bought from my Spanish teacher. Purple and grey. It was pretty, but it itched. I only wore it when it was really cold – maybe a total of six times.

Half-up, half-down hair. With bangs and without bangs. I never did the crispy-crunchy Aquanet bangs, though.

A white and green kilt that, on the second day of eighth grade, my frenemy told my teacher was too short to be in dress code compliance. She sent me to the principal’s office without looking. The principal rolled her eyes, looked at my skirt, and stepped out from behind her desk to reveal that she was wearing the same skirt. I went back to class with a reprimand for the teacher who’d sent me.

Apartment Inspiration

amanda_lee — Tue, 13 Jul 2010 21:14:06 +0000

I told you last week that I’m moving soon. In addition to flinging my stuff into boxes, I am busy scouring Craigslist for deals on vintage deco-style side tables and surreptitiously browsing Ikea’s web site for ideas on how in hell I’m going to share a three-room studio apartment with a boyfriend and a dog. [Am I crazy? I think I might be.]

I’ve started a file on my desk where I drop all kinds of decor/organization/interior design ideas. Some are mere pipe dreams [please, do you think I can afford an apartment that fits a sectional sofa and a baby grand piano?], but here are some of my favorites that I might actually use in my decor.

[source]

Love these Navy chairs – they’re recycled. Also love the curtain that blocks off the kitchen.

[source]

I already store my beans/rice/popcorn/pasta in repurposed jars. This just reinforces my pursuit of the aesthetic.

[source, in reference to the original here]

You know I’m going to make one of these. Or seven.

[source]

This is from the home of the illustrious Tricia Royal of Bits and Bobbins. I’ve got about a dozen of these crocheted afghans to display just like this, and I love this lamp – so epic.

Pretty soon I’ll have some pictures of my own space to show you. And snacks! There will be snacks!

Things That Contribute to a Wardrobe That’s Overgrown, Excessive . . . and Totally Useful.

amanda_lee — Thu, 08 Jul 2010 03:36:07 +0000

[source]

So, I’m getting ready to move. Again. And I’m getting ready to clean out my closet. Again. I spent some quality time with my Mint.com account today and realized that in the past year, I’ve spent more on both food and craft supplies than I have on clothing. Score for minimalism and fiscal responsibility! I’m finally feeling a teensy bit successful in achieving the utilitarian, minimal wardrobe I want, where every piece of clothing is something I want, need, use, and love. There’s none of the sentimental hoarding I used to engage in ["My mom bought me this dress when I was 14 and 20 pounds lighter! It was 1996! It was special!"], and quite a bit less of the impulse buying ["This purple sequined tank dress doesn't look anything like any clothing I've ever had or desired, but it'd be a great way to branch out in my style! It'd go over great on Lookbook!"].

However, my wardrobe continues to seem unwieldy and excessive. I daydream about the day when I don’t have to choose which outfits I bring with me on vacation, because they all fit into a suitcase. I daydream about replacing all the clothing storage furniture in my apartment with workspace, lounge space, a baby grand piano – something that doesn’t have drawers full of undies, because my undies fit in the closet with all my other clothes. As of now, though, my undies have to go elsewhere, because there’s no room for them between my bathing suit, two winter coats of varying heaviness, tights, sundresses, sweaters, and an old bridesmaid’s dress [which to be fair is headed for Goodwill this weekend].

I don’t think I’m alone in this, either. I am exceptionally well-versed in going through my friends’ cluttered closets to try and find order, and pretty much every one of us has stuff in their closet that they can’t wear all the time, but can’t get rid of, because they need, want, and love it and use it reasonably, given its purpose.

So why do even the queens of order and organization have all this clothing? Lots of reasons, it turns out.

Fluctuating weight or size means one of two things: either you wear poorly-fitted clothes sometimes, or you double your clothing consumption. There’s a stereotype of a woman hoarding her “aspirational” clothes that definitely don’t, and probably won’t, fit ever again ["I've got to get into my PROM dress, guys!"]. But I’m talking about people who know their own body’s variations and prepare for them sartorially – with extra clothing. Some people change sizes based on how often they’re going to the gym at any given time, or they gain or lose weight routinely from summer to winter. Some gain or lose a few pounds from day to day because of stress. Some women go through two or three planned pregnancies and they keep their maternity clothes, just because they know they’ll be using them again in a couple of years. Some women even vary a couple of sizes in the course of a menstrual cycle.

Extreme weather changes mean that you have to have more items that only work in one season. Like I said above, I have two winter-weight coats and at least four fall/spring jackets, plus the requisite tights, socks, gloves, boots, and sweaters that the extreme cold necessitates. And for the summer, I’ve got at least nine sundresses and countless sandals that are in no way winter-appropriate. My real home is New York; I doubt I’d feel as comfortable on the West coast; but San Francisco’s uniform temperature without as much seasonal variation sounds awesome to me.

Differing expectations for how you should dress in certain situations mean that there can be a distinct divide between clothing for work and play, daytime and nighttime, brunch versus an evening wedding. A smart shopper knows that a lot of these can overlap, but that depends on a lot of things: the formality of your work atmosphere, how frequently you’re invited to formal events [and whether it would be frowned upon to wear the same dress to several events], how casual your downtime attire tends to be [leggings and tanks versus twill dresses], and how often, if ever you dress up to go out. The don’t-wear-it-twice rule kills me – I don’t know a single person my age who has the disposable income [or frankly the desire] to buy a new dress for every single wedding, dance, party, and event, just to avoid being seen in the same one twice – but some people think it’s really important, and it bloats their wardrobes like crazy.

I have a post ready for tomorrow on how to combat wardrobe excess. Until then, I’m wondering: who has a huge wardrobe that’s full of beautiful functional things, all of which you use regularly? How do you deal with wardrobe excess? Any creative/resourceful solutions?

Why Fashion Matters

amanda_lee — Sat, 24 Apr 2010 17:00:57 +0000

A version of this post originally appeared on my site in August 2008, but it bears repeating. So read it again, kids.

I’ve touched on this before in some of my Inspiration posts, but it’s something we can’t afford to forget. So let’s go over it again, shall we?

How you look matters, people. And since we’re not always at liberty to change our own height, weight, bone structure, skin condition, or disability, nor is any one of us going to completely change the mindset and habits of immediate judgment inherent in every human being on the planet, the fact that it matters isn’t going away anytime soon.

And because of all this,fashion matters, too. What you wear is the only capacity in which on a daily basis you make decisions that communicate who you are, what you value, and how you feel. Obviously, every decision you make communicates those things, but think about it—does anything change as frequently or vary as much as the things you choose to wear?

Think about it. Your fashion choices demonstrate how you want people to perceive you—are you hiptastic, or do you have other things to worry about? Do you take your professional ambitions seriously, or do you have any at all? Are you confident, meek, sexual, reserved, wealthy, poor, individualistic, or a trend-follower?

What’s more, what you wear demonstrates how you perceive yourself. Do you feel good about your body, or do you dress to hide your so-called problem areas?

Fashion is a key showcase of your consumption choices and thus, your values. Do you go crazy for trends, or do you look for pieces that can be worn over and over again ten years from now? Do you pick out disposable pieces, or do you buy for lasting quality? Are you a green shopper? How does child labor and third-world manufacturing affect your buying decisions? No matter what your values are, they’re evident in what you wear. When I see a girl wearing skinny stonewashed jeans, for instance, I can tell she places a high value on current trends. Someone wearing head-to-toe organic cotton clothing and TOMS shoes likely values the environment and economic charity at least as much as fashion-forwardness. New Yorkers (or tourists!) who wear sneakers instead of heels definitely value their own comfort over their trendiness.

Also, think about it this way: it’s impossible to dress in a way that communicates absolutely nothing about you. If you dress as though you don’t care, the people around you might not be able to see how interesting and unique you are—less able than, say, if you wore your favorite colors or styles every day. If you follow a uniform code to the very letter, you’re still communicating something about yourself—your affiliation with the organization whose uniform you’re wearing [and also perhaps your loyalty to it—that you value the organization you belong to more than you value your individual expression, or maybe just that you value your job enough to follow the rules and thus not be stripped of it]. Likewise, if you choose not to wear anything, you’re making a pretty specific statement about your values and your feelings about your own body! And if you go really grungy (read: you skip on teeth-brushing and shampoo once a week at most; you wait six months or so before doing your laundry; and every item of clothing you own is stained, stretched out, and torn), you’re being unabashedly honest about the fact that you don’t give a damn about what you look like [or what anyone thinks of it].

[Sidenote: I used to know someone like this. And I'm not entirely sure how he held a job or met anyone, because he looked a hot mess all the time. I'm not talking about wearing clothing that was out of style or unflattering…I'm talking about holey, smelly, unlaundered clothing paired with once-weekly showers, if he was feeling super-motivated. Ew.]

So don’t ever let anyone tell you that fashion is dumb. It’s not.

Oh My Gawd – SHOES

amanda_lee — Fri, 12 Feb 2010 19:24:20 +0000

Earlier this week I celebrated something huge. Really, really huge. So I decided to treat myself.

These are the flats from J. Aldridge’s Sea of Shoes line for Urban Outfitters. I got ‘em on clearance! They’re still in the break-in phase, but I’m already planning to replace their shoelaces with elastic thread to make them easier to put on and take off.

I especially love how they’ve got an actual heel. I have a problem with walking all the way through my flats, scuffing the heels down to nothing [I don't drag my feet when I walk, I swear, it's just something about my posture or stride], so hopefully these will last quite a bit longer. Tonight I’m going to treat them with leather protector.

These Charles by Charles David heels were on sale at DSW- seventeen bucks, y’all. [I also found a bunch of others that I loved, but I'm exercising restraint and waiting to buy them for a month or so.]

They’ve got treads on the bottom, so I’m not going to be slipping around in them. Rejoice!

Super-comfy. I typically like wedges way better than pumps, but these are really supportive. Who’d've thought?! I’m pretty sure I need to plan a stage outfit around these colors. I have a lot of grey, but not very much of this dark cobalt blue.

I love my new shoes!