Last weekend, Travis and I went to a blogger convention at Mandalay Bay. It was mostly a series of booths promoting cyber services like twitter applications, search engines, and web hosting. We talked to a hundred different representatives about their products, picking up complimentary chapsticks and t-shirts along the way. Everybody wanted everybody else to succeed. I'm vaguely certain that I was the only fashion blogger in attendance. As for my outfit, I threw together something reminiscent of 'Stockholm street style' which is my second favorite theme to sport (neo-goth takes the cake.)
FROM TOP TO BOTTOM:
Newsboy hat- I've had it for years and this is the first time I've ever worn it. No idea where it came from. I have a massive newsboy cap collection.
Textured leotard/onesie- 'Feel Goods' vintage piece via my mom
High-waisted floral skirt- Gift from a friend many years ago
Crocodile belt- vintage
Most of my clothing articles are not recently purchased. If they are a new addition to my wardrobe, they were probably placed there by my mother who occasionally treats me to something new and novel. I'm generally not allowed to buy new clothes for the reason that my mom forbids clutter and overcrowded closets. She is on a constant mission to downsize our collective possessions and is strongly anti-indulgence. Trust me, she is not a hippie. More like a Gucci-worshiping Burberry-pajama-wearer who prefers to keep her household as minimalist as possible. It was from her that I inherited my appreciation for couture design and architecture. My mom is constantly encouraging me to appreciate the handiwork of Valentino purses. And did I tell you about the time she made me pet a cashmere scarf for ten straight minutes because I didn't fold it properly before putting it back on the hanger?
"Moms; can't live with 'em, can't live without 'em!" - quote from a t-shirt that should not exist, written in comic sans font.
But before I sign off, allow me to say that despite my love for designer goods... there is absolutely nothing better on Earth than an oversized knit sweater for $3.99 at Savers. I would shop religiously and exclusively at thrift stores if
1) I had the disposable income and
2) it wasn't a punishable act within the Zevalt household
When I'm living independently and have $30 to blow, I'll probably bring a trunk-load of mesh, wool, cotton, and even the dreaded yet post-ironic polyester home to my temporarily maximalist closet space.
And as soon as I reach my mother's age, I'll be sure to instigate my quest for downsizing as she did.
Everything is infinite,