Meant to be broken - Spring Stripes

Kate Moss 'Liquorice Stripe' dress for Topshop

Some rules, eh?

I'm sure at this very moment girls everywhere are carefully concealing this love handle and that bit o' arm fat, dutifully noting Stacey and Clinton's every word.  Turns out that style doesn't = skinny, though.  It's much more democratic.  There's at least as much cache, if not more, in dressing well with your smaller wallet, wider waistband, or weirdly long femurs.

So, don some stripes for spring.  'Nautical' always comes back around every April, so get a jump on it now with some simple shapes done in bold stripes.  Thick, thin, tall, small - it's all good.  Same goes for you, ladies. 

Alexander Wang tailback shirt, eBay seller: edropoff

DVF



Tory Burch



Alexander Wang

Robert Rodriguez



Torn by Ronny Kobo

Family Matters for The Fresh Prince

I grew up with 'peasant vision', the 3 fuzzy channels that radiate to the rural outposts. My sister and I would rush off the bus just in time to catch the "bah-da-da-daaa" theme song of Family Matters, and then would stick around for The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air at 4:00.

Lately I've been having strange crossover dreams between the two laugh-track-laden sitcoms. Chalk this up to the recent press junket appearances of the Smith-Pinkett clan to promote Karate Kid 2.0. That is one in your face, capital 'F' family. I've been witnessing this extravaganza of Smithyness on Go Fug Yourself and thinking about how Willow and Jaden will look back on these stylist-approved getups just like us plebs get nauseously nostalgic over our bad grade-school bangs and matchy-matchy Christmas sweaters.

I suppose everyone's first stylist is mommy dearest, who is soon replaced by a mob of tittering mean girls somewhere near Junior High. Some ladies then transform into true trendy little trollops, taking cues from the frat boy whistles of college.

Nurture, can be a sad tale. We are conditioned to forget our parents' sage advice (re: tight, low-cut, mini). It is dispensed early and often, but can be disregarded simply because of the embarrassing unhipness of the source:

DAD: "well, you don't want to look like 10 lb.s of sausage in a 5 lb. bag!"

DAD: "those pants are so tight I could see a pimple on yer arse."

DAD: "you're not leaving this house til you find the other half of that skirt!"
MOM: "you're beautiful and perfect and I love you."

Eventually, a gal tempers a lifetime of social cues and What Not to Wear episodes with glorious, self-actualizing Nature. The most fashionable women I know are comfortable in their skin, freeing them up to be adventurous and lighthearted, clothes-wise. The can evolve their style, pay homage, and above all... satirize. People who don't take themselves too seriously (read: their self-esteem doesn't teeter on aesthetic appearance alone) just look better. If you don't believe me, visit Calgary during Stampede week. Some people wear the requisite plaid shirt, and for others... it wears them. The difference is night and day obvious, and all about self-confidence.

So, wear your vintage concert T's and the jeans you bought at 14 (if you can still fit in 'em please don't gloat). Buy new pieces for the life you have/want/deserve. Mix them all together. Taste is the comfortable middle ground between the dichotomous N's - between the extremes of Nurture and Nature.

Mom'll still think you're beautiful.

Dad'll still think your skirt's too short.

You definitely are, and it probably is.

Chloe Sevigny, she's got legs

This post is filed under 'Costumes to Cop', a label I devised to allow me to gush about my favorite movies on a style blog. Although Leonard Maltin I am not, I am cinematically omnivorous - I'll watch anything and everything. Like most people, I derive equal enjoyment from watching stars on and off the silver/small screen. The last thing Rachel Bilson did that held my attention was a 2-episode guest spot on Chuck, yet she seems to be everywhere... and damn, that gal has style.

So, celebs are wearing costumes (Well, if the average Jane Q. Public is seeing photographic or telegraphic representations of them, then they probably are.) Whether they are plugging their latest book, scandal, or just their own branded selves, keep in mind they are selling you something (A touch of sympathy would go out to those whose bodies are as good as billboards and relentlessly photographed, if they weren't so egregiously overcompensated. As Dirt's Lucy Spiller would say, "when you put on the red clown nose you expect people to point and laugh".)

Chloe Sevigny pulls off a tough look in HBO's Big Love; she's the wife in full-on Prairie Dress, complete with bouffant/braid updos and liberty-print floral maxi skirts. I imagine this transformation to be no easy feat (recalling my sister's Hutterite Halloween costume a few years back). A favorite episode was S4E8 in which she modernized her look to please husband Bill. This involved glossy Veronica Lake waves, a micro-mini, and a Clinique counter's worth of makeup. BAM! She looked startlingly like she does when posing for the paparazzi in 'real life'. This got me thinking about the tremendous about of time and effort (read: paid professional assistance) these gals are getting. Ensembles are artfully constructed and recorded, whether by a camera crew packed with beer-bellied teamsters and studio reps or by enterprising paps willing to follow young starlets as they grab Starbucks or walk their tiny dogs.

To be fair, Ms. Sevigny seems to be less manufactured and manicured than most. I loved her latest collaboration with Opening Ceremony (see: good little article about the megastore in Sept's Elle, the one with Her Right Toothiness Ms. Roberts on the cover). The capsule collection felt like ordering a sampling platter at a too-pricey-for-you restaurant - a worthy splurge on the chef's greatest hits. Much like Kate Moss's Topshop duds before, the garments seemed like things the actress would actually be seen in: washed leather, vintagey blazers, anything crotchtastically short, and booties so fierce they moved from gladiator to Olympian God status. For yet another contrived celeb/designer collaboration, it seemed awfully authentic. And isn't that why we buy branded goods instead of the generic, to get a little scrap of the dream. To feel a bit like Chloe, if only until laundry day.

Proust's Madeleine (or What To Wear When You Have Nothing To Wear)

I spend a lot of time standing in front of my closet in the buck.

For someone who chronically oversleeps, this is problematic.

There are those mornings where I actually contemplate calling in sick because I CANNOT put together an entire outfit and look in the mirror for more than 10 seconds without hating it/myself/the world. My flaky friend tells me I am a textbook indecisive Libra. I think I just have too many clothes.

A great tip, courtesy of Daddy Likey's book, Closet Confidential, is to have an all-purpose, ready to wear outfit stashed at the back of your closet for just such an emergency. Wise.

I have also found the following technique to be helpful; I call it Proust's Madeleine. For those of you unfamiliar with the reference and in the mood for some lengthy literary self-flagellation, try Marcel Proust's Remembrance of Things Past or just Wiki That Shit. The entire novel results from the sensory experience, and the involuntary memories triggered therefrom, of tasting a madeleine cookie dipped in tea (very butterfly effect).

On those tryingest mornings I now pick out one item, one fantastic garment or accessory I had lusted to purchase and since been meaning to wear. This item, this glorious find, this madeleine... this is what I will wear, come hell or high-waist trousers! Everything else that it is paired with simply flows from it, as mere commentary.

Yesterday I tasted the madeleine sponginess of a truly standout skirt, and once it was zipped firmly in place I felt the pressure wane. From there it was the simple task of adding garnish, like wrapping the little white tabs of paper doll clothes around the naked bits.