rosetta stoned

In my five years of writing a whole lot about absolutely nothing, I've discovered that it is really easy to like things. A fashion blogger's default emotion is 'loading justification..." -- She is always generating a reason to like something she owns or sees or is offered. And generating a reason to dislike something she can't have. And then when she has it, she generates a reason why she was wrong, another reason why she likes it now, another reason why you should want it too. 

Fashion blogging has never been about sustainability: it blossom/s/ed from the novelty of apparel, not the usefulness of it. But given the technocentrism of the past several decades, "aesthetic delight" is not a good enough reason to fund an endeavor with labor and time. An urgency to imbue 'the love of things' with practical meaning surfaced and consequently, liking anything has become a performance with purpose: a gallant charade to foreshadow necessary identity. Liking things is an exercise in the creation of the self. It is the motion of "style."

While affirming the self and strengthening a sense of personal power, "style" also engenders a motivation to justify. Because we socially agree that our style is a picture of us, we internalize that it is about us. And we are driven to explain every choice (this hat over that headband, these heels instead of those flats) because we want each outfit to seem like it accurately describes our selfhood. The trouble is, we don't actually get to choose our style. Capitalism does. So we end up devising extremely personalized, qualic reasons for purchases and outfits and makeup routines after the decision has already been made for us. Everything happens afterwards. And it happens in defense of an invisible economic force.

The fashion blog is a platform for these justifications. It soothes the author, who is better able to veil her material exploitation in the rhetoric of "I'm just doing my job," and it soothes the consumer, who is able to use whatever reasons generated by the author for the service of rationalizing her own surfeit desires. But perhaps the most potent function of a fashion blog is its propagation of the idea that style is "purpose-serving." Utility, or at least the image of it, transforms frivolity into function. We conclude that fashion must be practical. It must communicate a message. Otherwise... it's a vain mess of ego and resource deprivation. Or better, or worse. 

The problem with framing style as "purpose-serving" is the possibility that we might include material self-expression in our constitution of subsistence. Material self-expression has nothing to do with subsistence. It is a luxury. Yes, it serves a purpose. But not a purpose that pertains at all to maintaining survival. We tend to reference utility to prevent the threat of deprivation. The more you need something, the easier it is to persuade someone out of taking it away. So by describing material style as a useful tool, our excess is protected under the clause of pragmatism. And as we all know, pragmatism and love of beauty are what make humans civilized. Material style is very well guarded by the rhetoric of postindustrialism, and consequently... all the ugliness that accompanies excess is insulated. 

There's a downside to the admission that style is frivolous, too. But I've already filled up half the page with my errant drivel and accomplished what I set out to do: appear to justify blogging about my outfit by including useful thoughts. HA.




Choies mod moto jacket, Yes Style harem pants, Missguided canvas sneakers

Everything is infinite,

Bebe

midi class

When I first caught glimpse of Alice Dellal's "boy" campaign for Chanel in 2012, my heart raced with the adrenaline of championship. It was a victory for punks of the affirmation-seeking genealogy, a home run in the department of respectful nods from arguably the most important fashion house of all time. No longer could one claim that ripped fishnets and semi buzzcuts were "un-Chanel" err tacky. The look was officially stamped with the seal of Wintour excellence. Rejoice! 

Of course, I wasn't actually one of those 'punks.' *My* sense of triumph stemmed from a smug eagerness to see counterculture imitated, insured by the approval of a militantly elitist white man, and sold back to the suckers who resolved to align themselves with resistance but defaulted to the flattery of seeing themselves reflected in the glossy pages of a magazine. It was both "in yo face!" for the hipsters who needed their style copied and repackaged before believing it was worth something, and "told you so!" for me. Yes, your undercut is 'high fashion.' So are your fingerless gloves, shredded tights, combat boots and smudged eyeliner. Because everything threatening, everything representative of revolt, everything suggestive of resistance is high fashion eventually. You get to see a Brazilian model who looks like you dazzled in Coco accolades, I get to see my economic prediction proven correct in 3...2...

Fast forward three years and grunge-en-vogue is still a formidable composition. For my look, I coupled a Romwe midi skirt with a mesh top I cropped myself. Since futuristic sneakers remain avant footwear for 2014, these secondhand boots might not make any seasonal appearances on the catwalk. But they're made for pounding pavement anyway. (Un)Fortunately at this rate of creative exchange, tastemakers might usher in an era of  sidewalk runways to replace traditional elevated platforms. Be warned: they know where to find our level. Down here. Gravity takes care of the rest. 



Chanel pendant, bangle, and earrings, Yes Style crop top, Romwe midi skirt, PinkBrix 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

knit that kinda girl

Since cutting monosodium glutamate out of my diet (well, at least before bed), fewer nightmares have interrupted my precious beauty sleep. If you didn't already know -- MSG, a popular flavor enhancer used in processed foods, is an excitotoxin that overstimulates and exhausts neuron receptors in the brain. Despite my intimate knowledge of what havoc it can wreak on the life of a sensitive binge eater like me, I have yet to swear off the terrifying little devil entirely. Nontheless I knew I had to make a drastic holistic change after one particularly heinous dream slapped the fear of God into my cheeto-inhaling, monster-imbibing self. In this hell circle of my slumbering subconscious, I accidentally traded a prized pair of knit yellow shorts for a crew neck t-shirt. I don't know how it happened or what tricks Criss Mossimo Xhilaration Angel played on me to swindle me out of such a beloved garment, especially in exchange for something so average and ghastly. All I know is that I woke up in a cold sweat and immediately sorted through each and every dresser drawer to quell my nocturnal panic. So. No more "flamin hot" flavor for me. 

The good that came out of my night terror was a renewed appreciation for these shorts, which are actually one half of a sweater set from OASAP that I will debut 'in whole' eventually. It might take me a nightmare about accidentally donating the matching sweater to Goodwill before I quit taking that too for granted. ;-))) In the meantime, this Romwe knit number whets my whistle. 



Romwe sunglasses and sweater, OASAP shorts, YES "Pound" platform sandal, Rebecca Minkoff purse


Everything is infinite,

Bebe Zeva

gallerina

Before Lagerfeld's iconic SS14 collection starring technicolor smock dresses and art supplies-as-accessories, few fashionistas would have equated the primary kitsch of printed paint palettes with couture as quality as Chanel (well, except for a brazen few of us). "High art" became en vogue all over again this past year, and with festivals like exclusive Art Basel replacing inclusive Coachella, it won't be long before that culture, too, is subsumed by mainstream attention and interest. Jk that is definitely already happening and I'm modestly pretending to live under a rock.

A year ago, I probably would have resented the Chanel collection for "appropriating" from an aesthetic that suggests liberation from currency. But this year, I hate "art culture." I revel in its aesthetic appropriation, its commercial flattening, its manipulation through association with new signifiers. I want it gone, or at least reduced to apparel where it can go out of style again. It is a culture of legitimizing institutions (schools, agencies, galleries), appraisal of beauty with paper and plastic, possession and materialism, distance from humility. It isn't something to defend or preserve. It's something to translate into commodities: obsolescence. 

Surely I am the only person alive paying sartorial homage to 'high art' because it feels like a passive aggressive goodbye.



Break Ice Trends plaid blazer, Romwe paint palette top, Yes Style harem capris, Persunmall heels, Chanel Privee collection framed flap bag, Chanel earrings + bangle

Happy 2015, friends!!!!! I'm gaining my momentum back... one season at a time.

Everything is infinite,

Bebe

REDKEN Color Rebel Hair Makeup

Y'all may have known me long enough to remember my BLONDE PHASE... I remember the ceremonial night perfectly. It was a haze of beer and ASMR as my friend rubbed bleach through my brunette locks. Then midway we ran out of bleach and had to drive to CVS with half my scalp aluminum foiled to buy more... after a couple deep conditionings my hair was fire blonde! The bad news? My mom hated it SO MUCH she sent me to the most expensive salon in town and forced me to have Steve Wynn's hairdresser dye it another more "palatable" platinum shade. Then my already thin hair fell out from the maintenance. Ugh. It was a big fat follicular mess.

Come 2014, I'm back to brown and have a pound of 22 inch extensions installed to cover for my balding scalp. But brown can be so so soooooooo BORING. That's why I went blonde in the first place! (And also I kinda have a Debbie Harry vibe with lighter locks... LITERALLY ME.) Fortunately, HAIR MAKEUP EXISTS DEEZ DAYZ. I'd heard of hair chalk and tinted spray from Claire's, but not the next level of non-permanent color. 

Enter Redken Color Rebel Hair Makeup. Makeup. Is that not the most perfect way to describe a noncommittal color transformation? "Oh, I'm just putting some foundation on my hair -- I'll be out in a minute!" That's literally what Color Rebel is. Foundation. FOR YA HAIRS, PEOPLE. YA HAIRS.

And, like pretty much every Redken hair product, Color Rebel is heaven. You apply it through a sponge connected to a screw-top bottle that releases small rations of liquidy, jelly goodness every time you twist it. The application is extremely clean and the product itself doesn't end up all over your counter, your sink, your mirrors, your car interior, wherever it is you decide to give yourself an existential breakdown makeover... jk. But seriously. It's so easy to manage and even easier to apply. Just screw the top and swipe that shiiiii all over the place!

I tested out violet ("Purple Riot") and red ("Red-y To Rock"). Couldn't resist mixing them together and doing a cray cray Demi Lovato look. When I saw how it turned out I FREEEEEEEEEEEEEKED. I pressed my hand against the glass and let my breath fog up the bathroom mirror as I asked my spankin' new ombre locks "where have you been? All my life?" (Rihanna voice naturally.)


















Forget permanent hair dye and just load up on the tinted makeup. It washes out in two shampoos, so theoretically you could be Nicole Richie over the weekend and Plain Jane by Monday morning, just in time for work.

Watcha think?? Should I make temporary hair color a permanent routine?? Get a couple bottles of your own at Redken's Color Rebel makeup station! Plenty of shades to choose from including "Gilty As Charged" (yellow gold) and "Punked Up Pink" (fuchsia). In the words of a boring blonde who desp needs some hair makeup of her own: LOVES IT.

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Everything is infinite,

Bebe