You're so transparent.

I love being naked. I may masquerade as a clotheshorse by day, but if I’m lounging around in the privacy of my apartment, I can’t get out of my clothes fast enough. I’m not a cavewoman - I’ll throw on a robe or a pair of booty shorts out of respect for a roommate who may not be as into my body as I am - but when I live alone, there’s a good chance I’ll eat, sleep, crack my knuckles, read and re-read Harry Potter, check myself out in Photo Booth, practice my Beyoncé booty shake and do all of my other embarrassing secret behaviors in the buff. Going au natural makes me feel more in touch with my body and holds me accountable to not, you know, eating entire jars of rainbow chip frosting in one sitting (don’t judge. These things happen, y’all). Nudity can also provide a devilish confidence boost for those sure-to-be-awkward phone calls (I once nailed a job interview wearing only a watch).

It may come as no surprise, then, that when law or common decency require me to be clothed, I tend to gravitate toward body-skimming styles that hug my so-called curves. I have the kind of proportions – little waist, long legs, childbearing hips – that sound great in theory, but don’t take to clothes nearly as well as they do to hypothetical male fantasies. Loose-fitting, androgynous styles do me no favors. The more I conceal, the bigger I look. As such, this whole sheer moment that's happening right now is particular exciting for me: I get to wear the high necks and the loose, blouse-y shapes that would otherwise send me on a one-way trip to Frumpsville without concealing the shapely silhouette that lies beneath (yep, I love me). But as I rifled through my sheer-shoaled wardrobe, I couldn't help but wonder: how does one bring spring and summer's floaty fabrics into fall?







This Alexander Wang chiffon sweatshirt is DY. NA. MITE. The daring can wear it over an art deco bra à la the above photo, but a bodysuit or ribbed undershirt is a swell full-coverage alternative for the wallflowers/professionals/people who occasionally eat entire jars of rainbow chip frosting in one sitting. If you choose to go the exposed tummy route, you'd better love yours, and you'd better be pretty damn sure everyone else is going to love it, too. I've also seen knockoffs at Urban and Topshop with mesh or chiffon insets on the sleeves instead of the torso, eliminating the question of whether or not to reveal the inner workings of your gastrointestinal system to the world.

Regardless, you'll want to minimize the gap between your hemlines. Opt for a high-waisted skirt, perfectly fitted jeans (muffin tops need not apply), languid cargo pants or - whaddya know! - leather shorts. I also recommend balancing the peekaboo sex appeal of a sheer inset with a pair of flat boots or chunky platforms.

This is the part where most bloggers would make a crack about this look being "sheer brilliance." But I'll save you the forehead slap and the drum solo. You need that energy for shopping.

I see you're wearing leather...are you into handcuffs, too?

Occasionally, an item of clothing will wrangle out of me an entirely inappropriate public reaction. It usually happens when I’m killing time in a store with no intention of buying or even trying anything on and, as such, am caught off guard by an instantaneous and deeply powerful connection.







Such was the case with these Rag & Bone shorts. I made a beeline to them from across the brand’s SoHo boutique, caressed their buttery leather between my thumb and forefinger and audibly whispered, “I want you,” in an all-too-sexual tone (much to the discomfort of the salesgirl standing two feet away from me). Not only was it my least successful seduction to date, but I was also forced to make a quick exit before I could even ask for their digits.

To clarify: forced by my pride to exit. Fortunately, the salesgirl let it slide.

Having since been informed by the Interweb that their “digits” are something to the tune of $795, I’m convinced that things wouldn’t have worked out between us anyway. They do, however, make a beautiful prototype for the next item on my fall wish list: leather shorts. I first added this line item to my long-term shopping list (a novella-length, fully categorized Google doc; the short-term one is on my iPod Touch for portable shopping purposes) a full year ago. I’ve since found a couple of potentials, but haven’t until very recently made actually buying a pair a priority.

When it comes to a stiff and highly connotative material like leather, cut is particularly important. Spare us the leather booty shorts and (heaven forbid) leather harem pants. Straightforward, relatively modest shapes keep leather from veering too far into territory already claimed by the two B’s: bikers and bondage. These long, loose A-line shorts with their nipped-in waist strike the perfect proportion. They’re tough and sexy, but also polished. Clearly worthy of a terrible pick-up line.

Cloudy with a chance of menswear.

It's been threatening to rain for three days now. I keep dressing down in anticipation. It has yet to so much as sprinkle. Infuriating. On the bright side, these fake-out forecasts have given me a chance to play with my approach to casualwear; namely, how to bring a little personality to jeans and a button-down.





This necklace is one of the few jewelry items I've ever actually purchased, having been lucky enough to inherit my weight in accessories from my late and formidably posh grandmother. It was my obsession this past fall and winter. The chain links are a combination of gunmetal and silver, though some are starting to go pink from where my perfume has rubbed off over time. Stah-ruggle.



No clunky Casio today. I thought the statement necklace begged for a one-metal color scheme and more delicate co-accessories. I'm a fan of how this particular watch adds a bit of sparkle without being excessively blinged out. Swarovski is not so much my jam.



Shirt: BDG.
Jeans: Forever 21.
Purse: Talon.
Shoes: Deena & Ozzy.
Earrings: Forever 21.
Necklace: Lou Lou boutique in Middleburg, VA.
Watch and rings: Inherited.

Augustatic is one step away from Septembrilliant.

It’s around this point in any given summer that I typically begin to develop a hint of weather-related wanderlust. These three steamy months are a particular brand of laissez-faire delightful, but they sure do make it easy to fall into a rut of wearing only airy sundresses for weeks on end. In dreaming ahead to times when sweat-induced dry cleaning bills will be merely a memory and layering will once again become an active consideration in my wardrobe, I've begun to assemble my fall fashion wish list. And I mean wish list. As in, I wish there was a chance in Hell I would be able to get my hands on one or more of these things by October. Now that a budgeting disaster called “I greatly enjoy mojitos” has sabotaged my fall shopping allowance, I’ll be lucky if I can afford to eat for the next four weeks, let alone buy a new pair of mom jeans from Salvation Army to shred into cutoffs.

But just like J. Lo's love, online window shopping don't cost a thing. Therefore, I will be debriefing my top picks for fall over the next couple of weeks, operating under a fantasy budget of whatever it takes. So let’s kick things off (heh) with:







Nailing down this summer’s official shoe crush was less exciting than it has been in years past, as this shoemance sadly has little to no chance of coming to fruition. This is partly because I have no income, and partly because Rumi “Fashion Toast” Neely has since given these Sam Edelman boots her blessing, so I’m sure they’ll be sold out in my size before I get the opportunity to save up for them. At any rate: want, in black (I’m generally nuts for gray, but not as nuts for the combo of gray and brown) leather (they also come in suede, but I never spend more than $75 on shoes that will inevitably be ruined in two weeks’ time), size eight and a half (if anyone's feeling generous). Envisioning them with slouchy paper bag-waisted shorts, a vintage blouse and a neatly tailored blazer. Equal parts classic and quirky.

What’s that I hear? You barely even signed on for the clog phenomenon, and now you’re being expected to embrace clog boots? Yep. Embrace them. Embrace them right now. I actually prefer these to clogs' original rendering. The streamlined shape and artful cutouts make them appear less clunky than traditional clogs, while still channeling their earthy, 1970s-era charm.

Stay tuned for another fall frontrunner tomorrow. Also, a breaking addendum to my Twitter rant: if you have Foursquare linked to your Twitter account, I will punch you in the face. Peace and blessings.

Loafing around.

Remember when I decided to embark on a search for the perfect pair of loafers?





Found these in Second Best Thrift in Astoria, Queens. Literally the best thrift store I have ever visited. I realize this is a strong statement coming from a secondhand goddess such as myself, but there is nothing about this place that isn't amazing. There's no rhyme or reason to the layout, which might prove frustrating to some, but I relish poking around for hours to unearth the best of the best from tangled piles and musty armoires. So many thrift stores give you secondhand clothes in a crowded, overwhelming retail mall format (and for astronomical prices, to boot). Worst of both worlds! If I'm gonna go thrifting, I want a grandma's attic experience for mere pocket change, and this place delivers. It also boasts an impressive selection of ugly-chic footwear, which is so where I'm at these days.

Anyway, I love that these are light enough to wear right now, but not so much so that I won't be able to transition them into fall. They're also the most comfy. I walked from Times Square to SoHo, then back up to Union Square by way of all three Villages (East, West and Greenwich) yesterday and barely felt a thing. That is a long-ass way, for the record. It wasn't until later, when I was stumbling from the Meatpacking District back down to SoHo in a Blue Moon-fueled haze, that I finally had a stop in a hotel for a Band-Aid.

Stylin' little liars.

I have an embarrassing obsession. An UGH-bsession, if you will. With ABC Family’s new teen drama/thriller Pretty Little Liars. For those unfamiliar with the basic premise, the series centers on a clique whose fifth member (and former leader), Alison, went missing a year before the show opens. The unexpected twist? Alison (or someone using her first initial) is now sending her former besties sinister messages from the great beyond. Whoa. Whoa. WHOA. Whoa. WHOA. Whoa. WHOA. WHOA. Whoa. Edgy.

Like any teen drama worth its ratings, clothes play a major role in Pretty Little Liars. The four main characters have wildly different styles: Spencer is a preppy overachiever with a hipster sensibility, Aria is a punky thrift-store queen, Hanna wears whatever Lucky tells her to and Emily is the token jock who couldn’t care less. I’ll cede that in life my style naturally veers more toward the Aria aesthetic, but I’ve gotta say: Spencer has been killing it so far this season. I’m style crushing. I'm a style stalker, and I’m about to be a bona fide style thief.

The key to Spencer's look, which has been called "business casual with a twist," is to take a classic pairing and riff on it. Do the nautical cardigan with the white shorts, but pair the outfit with nerdy socks and oxfords instead of the expected leather sandals. Go ahead and wear that ruffled blouse and blazer, but choose flat, knee-high boots instead of pointy law-firm pumps. And when it comes to casualwear, men's dress shirts and leather backpacks are where it's at. By the way, the black skinny jeans at right (they are jeans, by the way. Spencer wouldn't be caught dead in leggings. Riding pants, maybe) should be neatly rolled twice at the cuff and hit just above the ankle for optimal hipster chic.

Pulling off this style also requires a restrained hand when it comes to accessorizing. A delicate necklace, a simple bangle or a pair of stud earrings are about as elaborate as Country Club darling Spencer would go with the jewelry. Too much bling throws off the balance of polish and zaniness, giving the outfit a whole different vibe.

I think it may be time to hang up the guitar pick rings and chunky chain necklaces, return to my Virginia roots and debut this look for fall. I'm into it. The best part? It lends itself exceptionally well to wearing flats. I've got the riding boots nailed down, but expect to find me digging for penny loafers in the Astoria Salvation army.

La Parisienne.

I love everything French. (Okay, not French dressing. I’m actually morally opposed to salad dressing. Don’t get me started.) I took five years of Spanish in middle and high school after being told it would be more useful in the "real world" (attention to all those with aspirations in a fashion-related industry: this is a lie), but I’m one-eighth French and exceedingly proud of it. When it comes to design, food and general worldview (okay, maybe not military tactics), there’s no denying that the French know best.

No surprise, then, that I spritzed on my YSL Parisienne perfume this morning and left my apartment feeling decidedly fierce.





If I'm going out, I usually strap on a cute balconette bra under this dress and embrace the cleavage buffet approach. For work, I layered it over a lace tank to make the ensemble a tad more office-appropes. Even Condé Nast has its limits.



If you're into this look, you would die over Paris-based Denni Elias's blog, Chicmuse. She's all about the legs, lips and massive platforms (and even heart-shaped sunglasses in her latest post). Her charming, quirky style is one of my favorite pools to dip into when I need a little style inspiration. Or workout inspiration. Those legs. No homo.

Tank: Kimchi Blue.
Dress: Kimchi Blue.
Shoes: BCBGirls.
Sunglasses: H&M.
Bracelet: Gifted.
Ring: Inherited.

The good war.

The dress that can go from the office to the outdoor flea market is a rare and precious find. I typically accessorize this sweet, peek-a-back floral number with brown leather Ralph Lauren platform sandals and traditional gold jewelry. For a casual half-day of work followed by an afternoon of gallivanting around the city (one love summer Fridays), however, I decided to "downtown" things up with a surplus belt and ankle boots.









I think the reason this mishmash works despite the divergent styles of the dress and the accessories is the common color thread. The green in the belt picks up on the green in the dress, as do the gemstones in the rings. Similarly, the black-and-white ribbon in the hat keeps the dark footwear from looking too heavy. Blending different styles is all about creating balance in the head-to-toe look.

Dress: Reformed.
Belt: Vintage.
Purse: Vintage.
Shoes: Bamboo.
Hat: Street vendor in Astoria, Queens.
Rings: Inherited.

Social media what?

So. Sa-HO. If you're a longtime reader, you'll know that I'm kind of a champ at Facebook (article slightly outdated due to changes in profile structure, but the core principles remain the same). If we e-mail a lot, you'll also know that I maintain my Gchat status religiously. After my Twitter account staged a coup last week, I decided to relaunch it with newly open privacy settings and join the 21st century when it comes to shameless self-promotion (follow me by clicking the button at right! If you like me on Blogger, you'll love me on Twitter! Whee, look at me go!). Now seemed as good a time as ever to lay down the laws of the land regarding Twitter. Twitskies. ~*~TwiTteRLiCiOuS~*~ TIT-ter. I'm hilarious.

From UrbanDictionary.com:

Twitter (n): A stupid site for stupid people with no friends, who think everyone else gives a shit what they're doing at any given time. Also lacks the functionality of other social networking sites, not that it matters because just like Twitter all those sites suck anyway.

Well then.

I've been on Twitter for a little over a year now, and I think I understand it. At least I understand where so many people go wrong with it. Here's the thing: Twitter is for clever people. And not everyone can be clever. And that's okay. I have plenty of friends who are kind and wonderful and completely uncreative, and I love having them in my life. I just don't want their boring thoughts all over my Twitter feed. Sorry I'm not sorry. Apparently, one of the biggest "problems" with Twitter (according to Twitter) is that so many accounts lie dormant; the masses join Twitter to follow friends, celebrities and businesses without ever posting updates of their own. I would argue that this is not even remotely problematic. In fact, I can think of about twelve people off the top of my head - twelve delightful people who I enjoy in real life - more people than I have fingers on my hands! - whose Twitter accounts should lie dormant. And don't.

It's difficult to make sweeping generalizations about what is and isn't appropriate for Twitter, since I have friends who love to use my words against me when I inevitably break my own rules (Jamie). It ultimately comes down to two simple adjectives: entertaining and justifiable. Example time! The other day I tweeted about the weather, commonly understood to be a faux pas in the world of social networking. I did not, however, write "UGH SOOOOOOOO HOT WANT TO CRY" (it was, and I did). Instead, I wrote, "Barely clinging to solidity. One more hour in my apartment this morning and I would have been a puddle." Not laugh-out-loud hilarezzz, but clever, right? Thought and effort went into that tweet. Sure, you could have lived without knowing that I was on the verge of of a phase transformation, but I need a place to cultivate my wit or its sheer magnitude might just crush us all. So I made my weather complaint at least somewhat entertaining. Funny stories (of 160 characters or less) and fascinating observations about the world fall into this category, as do links for pure enjoyment purposes (YouTube videos, etc.).

Under the "justifiable" heading, we have tweets for the sake of career advancement. My friend Megan is a perfect example. She works in book publishing, and she loves to share articles on the state of her industry and reply to posts by various publishing houses. I may not want to read every article about book publishing that she retweets, but I understand why she does it. Justifiable (and not just because I like her). A lot of bloggers also use Twitter as a more interactive interface through which to connect with their fans, as well as to publicize their posts and keep track of their freelance work. This is perhaps Twitter at its finest: used not to hear the sounds of our own voices (you know...figuratively), but rather to begin a conversation among like-minded people. Justifiable. (In fact, I would argue that the weather post is also justifiable because if you live in New York right now in an un-air conditioned apartment there is literally nothing else you can think about).

Things that are neither entertaining nor justifiable: "RIP [insert dead celebrity here]," a laundry list of what you did today, passive-aggressive complaints about your roommate, your dark and twisty inner pain. Save that shit for Xanga...in the year 2004. Hey-oh! Content aside, you also need to employ proper logistical behavior in order to navigate Twitter without pissing me off. If you haven't noticed by now:

If you start a tweet directed at your friend with @YourFriend, it will only be seen by that person and your mutual friends.

If you end a tweet directed at your friend (who I don't know or care about) with @YourFriend...you are pissing me off.

Retweets. Perhaps you enjoy typing the letters "RT." I get to type them all the time because there's an "rt" in my last name, so I suppose I can't fully empathize. But there is now a retweet button. Use it. If you type "RT [insert tweet here]" without linking back to the original content (and it's not for the sake of clarifying a point or adding witty commentary) (assuming, of course, that you are a witty person who belongs on Twitter at all)...you are pissing me off.

If you make a typo or decide to reword something and are too lazy to go back and delete the first go-round...you are pissing me off.

The rest of my thoughts on Twitter, in less than 160 characters: "#" is your friend. Catchphrases do not constitute humor. Don't over-abbreviate; find another wording. Don't drink and tweet. No, no, LiLo!

Harsh? Maybe. Twitter awakens some powerful emotions within me. Since it's not as ubiquitous as Facebook, the bar to use it in the first place is set way higher, as is my sass level. Maybe you disagree with my strong feelings about Twitter. Maybe you think I'm a bitch.

Whatevs. Just trynna start a conversation among like-minded people.

Cotton candy.

You know these pants were the loser pants at the thrift store. They were the pants all the other pants made fun of after the owner went home for the night. Some teenage girl's mom wore them to her birthday party, and it. Was. Mortifying.







But all they needed was a pair of snakeskin platforms to lift them out of their life of anguish.

T-shirt: Zara.
Pants: Vintage.
Belt: Vintage.
Shoes: BCBGirls.
Earrings: Forever 21.
Ring: Inherited.