As I grew older, I began to realize that the probability of me dating a man who is smart, funny, interesting, good-looking, has a good job, is close to his family, has his head screwed on tightly AND dresses well was very unlikely. I could have maybe 3 or 4 of those things and dressing well would definitely not be one of them. I’m convinced that 50% of the male population do not know how to dress themselves. Sorry guys, but until the day you stop wearing short-sleeved piqué polo shirts that are two sizes too big for you, I will firmly keep that prior sentence in place.
Imagine my surprise when I did meet a guy who had all those qualities who wasn’t a.) gay b.) had a girlfriend that dresses him.
My boyfriend has style. It’s a style I can’t classify because it’s simply his own. If I had to pick a type I would call it “nerdy cowboy”? He always keeps a pen in the pocket of his pearl snap shirt.
My boyfriend has entire closet filled with costumes. He has another closet entirely filled (more…)
I truly hate this time of year in Austin. My sense of fashion flies out the window. Hats, scarves, cardigans- everything I love I can not wear unless I want to melt like this playground here:
I’m from the North so my idea of fashion involves layers. I like sleek, tailored and imaginative. Actually, I really just like wearing suits. Full-on dude’s suits. Been wearing them since I was a little girl. Probably the first time I realized I loved wearing suits was the day I dressed as Rod Serling for no reason. It felt so good to put on a jacket and tie and impersonate my writing hero. Serling always looked so cool and collected up on the TV screen and that’s how I wanted to look.
This sounds like the beginning of a Born This Way blog post, the day I realized when I was a boy trapped in a girl’s body, but alas, it’s not that interesting. I just really like suits. Love them. Love the way they look on me and other women. I don’t just fancy suits either- ties, bowties (more…)
While cataclysm of Waterworld-esque proportions keeps happening in other parts of the country, here in Austin, Texas we’ve been as bone dry as two teenagers humping after marching band practice. It’s also been a cool 104 degrees with a steady 90% humidity AT ALL TIMES. These two facts combined together make day-to-day living extremely difficult. Being from New York, my body can’t handle such zenith. Our bodies are predestined to be weak, capable of only handling such weather-related hardship as translucent skin and Eddie Bauer fashion. When my native New Yorker father visited me in Austin this weekend and ran across the molten blacktop barefooted, I saw his feet explode into an awesome ray of light while native Texans idly strolled by. I’m convinced that Texans are part of their own tribe, capable of withstanding extreme temperatures and skinning squirrels with their eyesight.
I am three years into living in Texas and I’m still sufficiently stunned when the summer approaches. I cry (more…)
The other night I ran into a friend at a popular bar on the east side of Austin. Like many east sides of major cities, the neighborhood is where a number of artsy and irreverent kids hang out. And by artsy and irreverent I mean don’t have jobs. The friend was describing to me how difficult it often is to frequent such scenes where every single girl is particularly hip and beautiful looking. They’re the sort of women that could make one feel conscious of their subconscious need to up the ante. Their eyes couldn’t be any doe-ier, their noses any smaller, or their body fat any less a negative number. They look like Kate Moss circa 1993 and they know it. You in turn pout your lips a little further out, turn your toes in a little more in attempt to beat out their Lookbook go-to stance, and walk across the bar as though floating in slow-motion through your own personal music video when seeing these sort of girls.
In other words, it’s one giant contest of who is the most noticeable.