holla graphic

When you hang out with me, you're also hanging out with my outfit. Bringing this up because the coat I posted about yesterday reminded me of an old friend (male, of course) who almost always felt uncomfortable being seen with me in my opulent faux furs, animal prints, and sequined hats. For obvious reasons; the fashionably unacquainted man assumes all lavishly dressed women are looking for the attention of 'potential buyers.' First of all, that is a myth, as most sex workers are undetectable and dress like anyone else. They don't have the privilege of looking too conspicuous. Second of all, insinuating that I look like a sex worker doesn't offend me or make me want to change my clothes. 'Sex worker' isn't, or at least shouldn't be, a pejorative. I know many very intimately, and the crazy thing is, so did my uncomfortable male friend. He simply didn't know because he didn't ask. So for future reference, I don't have time for the implicitly classist comments about my look, even if they are delivered in jest.

Unapologetically, this is me. Thriving in flashy metallics, plush whites, and Bruce Jenner's beautiful aviator aura.




24 HRS holographic snapback, OASAP crop sweater, Style Moi holographic wrap skirt, Alexander Wang bag, PinkBrix rings

Everything is infinite,

Bebe

me myself and eye

I think I've crossed a threshold in my blogging experience wherein I no longer expect anything to come out of my content creation. When I started out, there was a purpose: to get people's attention. And once I had their attention, another purpose emerged: to monetize my popularity. I was successful in my pursuits, but only for so long. While many bloggers were and are able to maintain their rate of production and profits, I am not one of them. I attribute this to my own failure to put money into my blog: I never paid a web developer to design me a more sophisticated layout, I never bought my own domain, I never traveled to New York for fashion week, I never hired a photographer to take my pictures. I remained "DIY" at the expense of my potential to thrive. Like anyone who missed the boat on an incredible opportunity to build an empire out of their access, I have my share of regrets. I could have translated "Fated To Be Hated" into a commercial endeavor generating enough ad revenue and collaboration fees to constitute a salary. I could have even set more modest goals, like aiming for a cool $1000/month. But not even that came into fruition. Nonetheless, for 99% of the time my blog has existed, I have been able to at least exchange sponsored garments for cash. The other 1% of the time includes the first couple months of my blog's existence -- and now. 

I hope that my blog's commercial failure is a creative blessing in disguise. I have only the clothes I started out with left (yes, the same pieces you saw in 2010) which means I must tap into a place of complete sincerity. There are no sponsors to appease and there are no liabilities. I have absolutely nothing to lose. And I am not obligated to blog about things I don't genuinely like just because I can flip them for ten bucks on eBay. 

Hopefully this is the beginning of a new life for me and my platform. A fresh opportunity for me to create, for free, with as much expressive recklessness as I see fit. I have no expectations of monetization -- and that's liberating, not a disappointment. All the labor I put into this blog must satisfy ME, because no gratification will come from anticipating validation or payment from others. I am untethered to everything but my Desire.



80s Purple mirrored shades, Romwe sequin eye sweater & blouse, vintage Minnie Mouse jorts from The Dog Show, Under Construction platform boots c/o Echo Club House, Pink Brix Kelly skull earrings + Coco ring

Everything is infinite,

Bebe

ed hardly

I reeeeeally want to be truthfully able to say "overalls are my new thing," but I'm sure 'new thing' suggests 'worn more than twice.' In my heart, I am committed to overalls. Long ones. Baggy. Unflattering. Approved by a farmer. Although I only own a humble four pairs, they've somehow managed to monopolize my head space. They're the first article I look for when browsing shops online. They're tempting to wear to high brow production meetings when a fitted blazer is more appropriate. And dammit they comfortably embrace my entire body like a medium wash denim diaper. Like the onesie, they save me from having to select a top AND pants. When your top already *is* your pants, the time you'd otherwise spend inside your closet can be practically devoted to the more important things in life. Like herding cattle and farming.

But unlike my prudently dressed pastoral pals, I've got a penchant for luxury and couldn't resist glamming up. Combined with pumps and chunky Chanel earrings, my overalls leave no doubt that I'm a city slicker in disguise. But I own it. For Pete's sake I'm even wearing a rhinestone embossed Ed Hardy racing jacket.

You can thank Echo Club House (formerly Swaychic) for blessing the public with this look -- I'm holding down the fort in the Linebacker Bra, Cosby Sweater Snapback, and Gare Du Nord overalls. Check out their new site, show them some new love, support them by getting ya hands on some new goodies! At the very least, follow them on insta for 00s inspo.

Outfit c/o Echo Club House

Everything is infinite,

Bebe

cotton candid

Oh how I yearn for the days of not getting my ass kicked. I'm talking about the weather, not the fact that I'm a bully's pipsqueak dream victim. Every time I leave the house I get assaulted by 1) perfectly tolerable winter temperatures that feel like summer to Minnesotans but hell frozen over to me 2) extremely RUDE wind currents that have absolutely no respect for my hairstyle. So I'm left longing for the days of tie-dye tank dresses and frivolous faux fur... ya know. Back when your life didn't literally depend on your vestiary armor. 

This pastel power combo features a hippie dippie Romwe tank and platform boots from Echo Club House (formerly Swaychic). Matched le transparent pink Claire's purse to le transparent pink cap and called it macaroni.




Romwe rainbow print dress, Daily Look coat, 24 HRS snapback, Cobrashop aviators, Echo Club House "Under Construction" boots

Everything is infinite,

Bebe