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Tuesday , December 14, 2010
Laura Jane's Ultimate Fashion Challenge: Week Five
In the words of the great Neil Young: GO EAT A PEACH. If I could say one thing to the hordes of Sketchorama Creepertons who went to the Canadian National Exhibition today, it would be precisely that. The CNE is like Coney Island overdosing on crystal meth, only worse. It is a veritable tragedy that today's excursion has forever poisoned this dress for me; for the rest of my Earthly existence, I will associate it with the sweltering afternoon I spent having a really uncool panic attack atop the "Euroslide". I hate it. I hate the CNE. I hate the Euroslide. There is nothing Euro about it. It's scary.
On the other hand, I SO don't hate Kate & Laura Mulleavy. I love them. They're good. I would seriously get married in this dress, and I hope somebody has: Holy Econo-Fly! I feel like a million bucks in this lil' number. Well, I did, but thanks to the stupid CNE, I now feel like nine hundred and ninety nine thousand, nine hundred and eighty six bucks in this lil' number. Fourteen buckaroos was the cost of my admission to that Hell on Earth. Fourteen buckaroos was the cost of MY OWN DEATH.
Happy Labor Day! I wore white.
Day 30 (09.02.08): THUS SPRACHT HIAWATHA: blue-and-white flowery Zara babydoll; braided leather belt; raffia bangle; Guatemalan leather purse
Exactly one week ago, it was Day 23 ("Kill Me Pills Batik Chic"), which was totally Day 30 Part 1, if you know what I mean. What is it about Tuesdays, re-appropriated Zara dresses, big belts, bangles, accidental date looks, and nice surprises? I bought this dress last summer when a pigeon shit all over me at Toronto's Union Station. Being highly ornithophobic, it was a highly traumatic experience made bearable only by "Well, at least I get to buy myself a new dress because a pigeon shit all over my other clothes!"-brand rationalization.
Generally, this dress is way too pretty/Normie/non-scrappy for my liking; I think it's kinda wussy and zero percent punk rock. I've had this belt since forever- I can't remember a life without it hanging around my closet, being ugly and lame and hippie and annoying to wear and made of a dead animal. I can safely say that I have never worn it before. Not once.
Sometimes, two wrongs do make a right. Who knew Ugly Dress plus Ugly Belt would equally totally rockin' Cherokee Debutante Chic? I didn't. To conclude: THE BEST DESIGN IS ALWAYS BRED FROM CONSTRAINT.
Day 31 (09.03.08): IDENTITY CRISIS CHIC: sparkly grey little girls' tank dress from Old Navy; avant-wack beaded necklace with felt flower
It's been a month. I find it laughable that I once thought the UFC would be over by the time September hit. HA! Ha, Ha, HA! Oh, the pathetic naivete of my one-month-ago self! To be honest, I don't even think I've reached the halfway point.
So, Laura Jane, what have you learned from the UFC thus far?
2. Pyjamas are comfy.
3. Pants are stressful.
4. Zara dresses suck less than I thought.
5. The UFC makes no sense.
Case in point: I have been "saving up" for wearing this dress since Day one. It's one of my favorite clothing items in the world. Yet, I am wearing it exact right now, and could care less. Why? Why would I? Why wouldn't I? Huh? I guess the question is, or isn't: What sort of meaningless validation am I looking to glean from wearing a given outfit? From wearing this outfit?
I guess I was "saving" this dress because I Like It Better. And I guess I assumed that its aesthetic value (as understood by me) would translate directly into liking myself, the world, and/or existing inside of it (the world) Better Too, due to the surplus of General Positive Vibes I would be interacting with on the day I wore it, which is today.
This idea has been completely demystified.
Why?- I'm happier listening to a good song than a bad song, walking out of a movie I loved rather than a movie I hated, eating cake rather than pig slop, etc.
(The next paragraph is supposed to sound in your head like a Carrie Bradshaw "Sex and the City" voiceover, FYI): When you wear an outfit, does it become you? Is it nothing? Why do I, you, we, and The Royal We (Kat, Liz & I together) care at all? Is fashion honestly, truthfully, wholly: NO GOOD FOR ME?
Damn, diggity, dang. Hey-
Know what? I felt kind of overly boho today. And, as we all know, it is highly irrelevant to be channeling boho in September of 2008. What the hell? Huh? Who? What? When, where, why, and HOW? IS IT? IS IT REALLY? Perhaps it's high time for a boho revial. Yo! Sienna! You on board?
Day 32, Pt. 1 (09.04.08, whenever I woke up until about 8 PM): plain black t-shirt; patchwork kneelength shorts from American Eagle Awesome
2 months and 2 days ago, I had a really intense birthday and, as I entered my twenty-fourth year on this planet, decided that, as an "Artist" (pronounced Ahhhhhh-tist), I do not belong to myself. In the words of the only person in the history of the world who ever said anything smart: I AM OF THE UNIVERSE, AND YOU KNOW WHAT IT'S WORTH. What I mean is that, it is in no way interesting to myself- or anyone, probs- that on September 4th, 2008, I wore a black t-shirt and blue patchwork shorts. But it is more interesting to me to wear a crappy, boring outfit and proclaim it to the world than to wear a crappy, boring outfit, and do nothing about it all.
Yes, it is all meaningless- OBVIOUSLY!!!! It sure as Helen Keller ain't meaningful! But, as I see it: if you talk and talk and talk and talk forever, you're bound to say something cool at some point. Perhaps not today. But, in the words of Badfinger nee The Iveys: MAYBE TOMORROW.
PS: There is a Normie soccer mom who lives on my street who has the exact same shorts as these, and wears them all the damn time. It's such a trip!
Day 32, Pt. 2 (09.04.08, 8 PM-close): crappy olive-green Gap zip-up hoody; Marc Jacobs London/dinosaur t-shirt; olive green cable-knit stockings from American Eagle Awesome
I am SO dedicated to the UFC. I very easily could have denied my ever taking an overnight Greyhound bus ride (Toronto to New York!) and just worn jammers (the jammers rule being that jammers don't count), but NO. The pyjama exception does not apply when I am existing in the public sphere, which I very clearly am right now. By the way, this outfit is fucking awesome. #3 of the whole UFC!
My ex-boyfriend and I both had one of these Marc Jacobs London t-shirts, and then when we broke up, there was a switcheroo: he got mine and I got his. So now I'm stuck with a underarm-sweat-stained Marc Jacobs London t-shirt. Life is unfair: I'm single, and my armpits look gross.
Day 33, Pt. 1 (09.05.08, 11 AM-9 PM): red skinny jeans from H&M cut into shorts; panther necklace; faux-Missoni skirt worn as tube top
I hate stupid, stressful, pre-Spirit Animal House New York City on the hottest day I have felt this entire summer. Summer's over. It's Sep-freakin'-tember! I'm sweaty. This shirt is oppressive. I am wearing my panther necklace because it's an animal, sort of the bad-ass MAN version of my baby-kitty spirit animal, and I'm trying to cultivate good Spirit Animal House juju. I'm too stressed out to care. Whatever. What are clothes?
When I bought these red skinny jeans in October of 2007, they seemed like the apex of au-courant to me. Now they remind me of 14-year-olds at the mall. I cut them into shorts because it is hot out. What are clothes?
Day 33, Pt. 2 (09.05.08, 9 PM-sunrise): H&M tutu skirt; panther necklace; faux-Missoni skirt worn as tube top
Speaking of Sienna Miller three days ago, I think Sienna Miller would like this skirt. I like Sienna Miller. I think we'd have fun together. Can somebody call Sienna Miller and tell her to be my friend? It's acksh (that means ACTUALLY in "I'm dying of exhaustion"-speak) really convenient for me how my fabulous (NOT!) New-York-during-Fashion-Week life is allowing me to "get rid" of more stuff. Sienna? Hello? What are clothes?
Day 34, Pt. 1 (09.06.08, 10 AM-midnight): pink Miami Seaquariun tank; white punk rock capris; Paul McCartney pin; yellow "chiffonade" headscarf
Okay, I don't want to be boring and just make the same "What are clothes?" joke over and over again, but seriously: what are clothes? I'm tired, and wet. Today Hurricane Hanna rocked me like her hurricanean self. This was my Mommy's shirt when she was my age, and my pants are cool. They are made by some New York designer who is cool and possibly eco-oriented; I forget, because I just got rocked like a hurricane by an ACTUAL hurricane, and am tired, and stressed out, and tired, and wet. I am wearing this Paul McCartney pin because today, Paul McCartney is my spirit animal. He did a bad job of protecting me from rain, that's for sure. What are clothes?
Day 34, Pt. 2 (09.06.08, midnight-sunrise): lacy pink dress that is totally see-through
Day 34 is subtitled: AN ODE TO THINGS THAT ARE BABY PINK AND STAINED WITH FOOD FROM TEN BILLION YEARS AGO. The hurricane stopped. Thank you, Paul McCartney. I had a lot of frozen margaritas tonight; they were tasty. I'm really sorry, I don't mean to bother you but: WHAT ARE CLOTHES?
Day 35 (09.07.08): crocheted dress from H&M little girls'; belt from My Favorite Dress In The Universe
This is a pretty little dress. In the morning, I wore it with a belt. In the evening, I took off the belt, because the belt was uncomfortable. Kat took pictures of me today. I love Kat. Where's Kat? Kat? Hello? Spirit Animal House is in two days. What's Spirit Animal House again? What's sleeping? Who am I? What is the world? WHAT ARE CLOTHES??????
I hope Elizabeth Barker gets to New York soon. Me sleepy.
Tags: American Eagle Awesome, avant-wack, Coney Island overdosing on crystal meth, coping with stress poorly, econo-fly, Laura Jane Faulds, Neil Young, New York City, ornithophobia, potential boho revival, Spirit Animal House, the days when SAH interfered with the UFC, Ultimate Fashion Challenge, what are clothes?
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