All the Summer Ladies, All the Summer Ladies

Summa, summa, summa time. Guys- Summer time dressing is MY JAM. You know what I like about Summer fashion? I just feel like there is less pressure to look “cool”. Know what I mean? Well lemme explain it anyways: during Fall and Winter everyone’s all like, “ZOMG gotta throw on my jet black skinnies and my black leather jacket layered over this sheer black top with these black boots and this black beanie and have this chronically bitchy look on my face allllll damn day and just be the coolest girl you ever did saw.” And I see them slinking around town. And they do look quite intimidating in their head to toe black. And sure, some people may mistakenly mis-label this as “fashionable”. But you just wait til Summer you blacked out fashion bitch. You are nothing without your precious leather jacket and black boots! NOTHING! 

 And Summer arrives. And it’s too damn hot to care about looking cool. And everyone just wants to have fun and wear wild colors and pretty sun dresses and frolick in the sun all day (which is exactly what I did while wearing this ensemble). Suddenly black is passe and it’s all about *CoLoRz*. I love that in the summer we can be a bit more whimsical and free spirited. I like to let my inner vintage sun goddess come out to play. I guess people just don’t take fashion quite as seriously in the warm-weathered months. Which is nice because trying to look “cool” all the time has truly, madly, deeply exhausted me. At least until Fall anyway. I mean shit dude, even I love dressing like a fashion bitch sometimes ;)

Vintage dress and hat. INC shoes.

Until next time,

Brittany

Life Lessons I Learned From Silk

Silk is having a major moment in my life (AKA closet) right now. Every time I hit up the thrift store all I can think is, “Give me all of the silks.” When I met Britt yesterday for bagels, I professed to her my love for silk: 

“Oh- silk is like, totally hot right now,” she told me, “I just read this article the other day about how the rise of silk for Fall 2013 is sort of like, a response to the fact that the world has lost it’s sense of intimacy. Ya know, cuz everyone like, lives their lives inside of their cell phone? And silk is the fabric of intimacy...” 

OMG…duh. YES! It all makes sense now! You see, I have also been suffering from a debilitating case of social media fatigue the past couple of days. Between texting, Facebooking, Instagramming, Tweeting, Pinning, Tumbling, and blogging; we all experience hundreds of micro-connections with people from all over the world every. single. day. But there is zero sense of intimacy or history or understanding with these people- and if you don’t have that it’s like, what’s the point? Small talk is boring. Even though I am connected to virtually everyone in the world, I can count on all my fingers the people with whom I have an “intimate” relationship with. Intimate ain’t just about sex- intimacy simply means that you have detailed knowledge and a deep understanding of each other- basically they’re your ride-or-die peeps. I looooove me some social media…but lately I’ve just been wanting to unplug a bit. 

I suppose my craving for real relationships, real conversations and real people (as opposed to the virtual) could also have something to do with the fact that I will soon be moving 500 miles north of my SoCal home and will officially be a NorCal girl- so I really gotta soak up my peeps while I can. For now, I will continue to wrap myself in all the silks I can get my hands on in an attempt to remind myself that the virtual world is fun and great- but the world outside of my cell phone is where the magic happens. Damn…who knew that textiles could communicate such life lessons?

Thrifted coat, skirt, boots, necklace. Foreign Exchange crop top.

Until next time, 

Chelsea

That Time We Discovered Government Secrets

We interrupt out regularly scheduled programming to bring you PMF: "Double the Trouble, Double the Fun" edition. We decided Saturday was the perfect day for sneaking around our fave local abandoned army base. Last time we hit up the medical building, so this time we mobbed over to the elementary school and barracks. The school was (interestingly enough...) wide open, so we took the liberty of letting ourselves in. We were poking around, peering inside classrooms, shrieking at every little noise, searching for a way to get inside; but to no avail. (We’re ladies so we ain’ts about to be breaking in any windows. We need a boy to do that stuff.) So we’re doin our thing, snapping pics, when suddenly we stumble upon something VERY interesting. While the rest of the school is abandoned, in ruins, and totally creepy, this particular wing is not. It would appear that there is a secret corporation being run out of here that goes by mysteriously ambiguous name “NATGEO”. When we peered inside we didn’t see clocks hanging off the wall, desks turned upside down, and chairs strewn across the floor; instead we saw your run-of-the-mill office space. As in like, it’s currently in operations! We dreamed up many a conspiracy theory as to WHY this corporation is currently operating out of an abandoned elementary school: Nuclear weapons? New world order? Area 51 alien-type-a shit? We were deep within our imaginary world when suddenly: po po. Don’t worry dudes- it’s just Irvine cops. And we’re white sooooo…

“Ladies. Watchu doin?” he pondered.

Britt held up the camera, “Sorry officer. We are taking our photography final like, waaaaay too seriously! (giggles) Just snappin some photos for our art class.” I swear there is no amount of trouble that a big-ass camera and a miniskirt can’t get you out of.

“Alright well wrap it up…this is private property ya know.”

In unison: “Thank you officer!”

 Dude, I swear we watched WAY too much Harriet the Spy growing up. PS- If we do not return to regularly scheduled posting on Wednesday then assume we’ve been taken into government custody.

Until next time,

Britt + Chels

Make It Work

It is common knowledge amongst us fashion-folk that the fit of a garment is of the utmost importance. I mean…duh. But for us thrift store shopping, fashion hackers- fit doesn’t always come so easy. I mean, it’s not like when I score something great I can just find the helpful sales girl and ask her to drop off a size small to my dressing room. UM…hell no. That shit is every woman for her damn self. Goodwill don’t work that way. So instead of over-analyzing the fit, I take a page from Tim Gunn’s book and simply “make it work”. Case in point: This bomb-ass tee I picked up at the pile sale last weekend. It was love at first sight- I can’t say no to freaky-deaky graphics and that super saturated green. (Especially after seeing this Jeremy Scott show…I’m a sucker for some JS.) But alas it is a Men’s size large…and I am not. NEVER would I EVER throw it back into the pile…I mean you don’t just ignore love at first sight!

When you do not have the luxury of a perfectly fitted garment, you gotta get creative with the shape. And when we’re dealing with shape, it’s all about draping. (Heavier the fabric, the better.) So, I placed the neckline high around my neck and let the front of the tee just hang- which ended up giving the sleeves an interesting shape- don’t you think? This ended up creating some volume at the back, which I strategically tucked into my underwear so it would stay put all day. Now, whether that’s completely trashy or kiiiiiiinda genius is for you to decide…but only god can judge me, bitch. That shit is ELASTIC...it will put that in it's PLACE and keep it there. Also it needs to be said that I am the luckiest girl in the world because I wore this to, of all places, the office. True story, bro. NO clue as to how I get away with these style shenanigans, but we will attribute this to the fact that a) I work in fashion and b) have awesome co-workers who let me indulge my wildest fashion fantasies on a daily basis. If I had to abide by some “professional” or “corporate” dress code (code=rules=I hate them) that would only leave me 2 measly days per week to wear whatever the hell I wanted, which would really suck all the fun outta the day, ya know? I mean getting dressed is like, the best part of the day. Besides, I do my best work when I’m lookin’ and feelin’ fly ;)

Vintage coat. Thrift tee. F21 skirt. Vintage pumps. F21 jewels.

Until next time,

Brittany

The Arbitrary Status-Quo of Beauty

I am a woman who whole-heartedly embraces my voluptuous shape- my tits, my ass, my thighs, and the curve of my hips are all something I rather enjoy. I do not have the body of a supermodel. Luckily, becoming a super model was never an aspiration of mine, so I don’t really give a fuck whether I look like one or not. BUT- I am only human. And we alllllll have our days. And this particular day was my day. “Do I look fat in this outfit?” I asked Britt, examining my shape in the mirror. 

She looked at me. “Ummm…no,” she answered. 

“Ok…” I wasn’t convinced. “But you would like, tell me if I did, right?” 

“I mean, I guess I would. But that would never happen.” 

Right answer, sis. Britt and I aren’t the kind of girls who toil or bother with body snarking to each other, the way some BFF’s do. This is something I feel has isolated me from girlfriends in the past. Inevitably, the conversation of “I hate my fat thighs and OMG my stomach is like getting huge” always comes up, and when it was my turn to hate on myself, I just never had anything to say regarding the matter. It seems that certain groups of girls do not appreciate this sort of confidence, and would rather widdle away their precious time on earth trying to conform to some arbitrary status quo of beauty that has been created by corporations and the advertising industry for the sole reason that we will purchase their products to aid us in our lifelong quest for perfection. We are the consumers and we are the majority. Why do we have to fit into their whack-ass mold and not the other way around? And now, a quote: “It is in our biology to trust what we see with our eyes. This makes living in a carefully edited, overproduced, and photoshopped world very dangerous.” - Brene Brown. End of rant/PSA. *Takes a bow*

Thrifted top and hat. Urban Outfitters jeans. Charlotte Russe booties.

Until next time,

Chelsea

A Hopeless Fashion Romantic

Between my pending nuptials, Chelsea’s big move on August 1st, and reading the Grace Coddington memoir; I have found myself seeking the familiar and comforting solace of fashion these days to ease my nerves and provide a sense of calm during these crazy times. While I am sometimes highly critical of the industry, and all the players in it, at the end of the day it’s only because I love it. I am a hopeless fashion romantic. Head-over-heels in l-o-v-e. Typically, I am all about moving forward, constantly asking “What’s new? What’s next? Where are we headed?” But lately all I want to do is slooooooow time down. Really relish the little moments instead of constantly casting my focus to what’s coming around the corner. Sartorially speaking, focusing on the feeling more than a trend. Listening to my heart over my head while getting dressed to go out on a Friday night, I suddenly found myself shooting zombies and riding in some VERY bouncy motion simulators with Chels (and her bouncy boobs) at Dave and Buster’s on Friday night- all while dressed in this modern day princess ensemble. You know what they say, “All the world’s a stage editorial, and all the men and women merely players.” That's how I read it, anyways ;) 

Vintage jacket. Vintage dress. F21 shoes.

Until next time,

Brittany

A Fly On The Wall

Ok so, I don’t want to sound like every other dynamic duo out there on the interwebz but, Britt and I could totally have our own reality show. I swear to you, we encounter so many everyday moments and situations that are just begging to be recorded. (Not that we don’t do a good enough job of that via social media…) But like, for example: in these photos I look all cool and angsty, as if I am anxiously standing by, waiting for my Clyde to burst through the back door of the bank he just robbed so we can take off in our Caddy. While in reality, the owner of this car (and the accompanying “junkyard” as we refer to it,) was standing a mere 10 feet away and I had to keep a sharp eye out for that wanker. He has a tendency to get quite cranky when he catches Britt and I snooping around in his junk, sitting on his cars, and distracting his handymen with our…photography session ;) And then of course there was the incident at the school. Our shenanigans at the thrift store. The wild and wacky nights at the gay club. We sometimes find ourselves wondering: if someone were a fly on the wall, would they find us as wildly entertaining as we do? At this point anything is better than the freaking “Housewives” epidemic. Except my OC ladies…we da OG’s baby. 

Thrifted sweater, pants, sandals. F21 necklace.

Until next time,

Chelsea

PS- Bravo are you reading this? Call us. We are for sale. 

Cher Horrowitz Meets @BadGalRiRi

Today, I would like to invite you to step inside my brain as I attempt to outline and explain my “inspiration” process for this particular ensemble. So, it all started when one day I was struck with the idea to do an ensemble that was Cher Horrowitz meets BadGirlRiRi...it came to me in a vision (daydream). First and foremost I knew wanted this look to involve fishnets, because as you can see on my inspiration board up there ^^ I had seen several instances lately of the interesting graphic appeal that could be created with negative space and I wanted to take this idea for a test ride. Next, the idea for the overall silhouette, a mini and a cropped sweater, came from the classic 1994 Versace ad featuring the babe-a-licious supermodels of the 90’s whom I was hoping I could emulate. And after seeing Bridgette Bardot in her mini-romper and cute flats, I knew that my vintage loafers would be the perfect footwear of choice. (Also, not sure I could pull off a mini AND fishnets AND heels...#ChallengeAccepted.) Now I needed a simple black sweater and graphic B&W skirt, so I hemmed this knee-length, A-line skirt to add yet another Louis Vuitton wanna-be to my collection. And VOILA! My masterpiece was complete. Of course, this is not my literal thought process, it all just kinda happens naturally in yo brain, ya know? Lesson of the day: the key to being a fashion hacker and master thrifter is to have a steady stream of inspiration from which you can mix and match ideas. Editorials, runway shows, and vintage photographs are my ammo of choice. What's yours? 

Target fishnets. Thrifted everything else.

All images via Tumblr.

Until next time,

Brittany

90's Digital Cowgirl

As my sartorial journey delves further and further down the fashion rabbit hole, one of the lessons I have learned is that I should dress to please myself and myself only. And of course, I agree. However, this philosophy has led to a steady decline in the amount of compliments I tend to receive regarding said killer ensembles. As the commercial appeal of fashion has worn off on me, compliments I would regularly receive such as, “OMG I looooooove your top like so much!” have turned into questions (concerns?) such as, “What is that sweater made of?” or “Where did you find that?” and from one not-so-subtle acquaintance, “WTF are you wearing?” (God forbid someone stray from the unofficial uniform of knee-high boots, skinny jeans, and a "top".) Of course when they ask, I am more than happy to indulge them because I think that more often than not, people are simply looking for a conversational ice-breaker. And I get that. Believe me. Ok soooooo, the other day I threw on this outfit, looked in the mirror, and was pleased with what I had going on: 90’s Digital Cowgirl. (It’s a thing…trust me.) So la la la; I’m just livin’ my life in my fierce ensemble when much to my surprise a young lady at Target quipped, “OMG I loooooove your dress so much! Where did you get it?” I looked to the left then looked to the right. “Holy shit, she’s talking to me. She actually appreciates my 90’s Digital Cowgirl realness!” BUT the real shocker came when my not-so-subtle acquaintance (as previously mentioned) saw me and actually told me that I looked “nice”. Well fuck me gently with a chain saw, have I found the holy grail of all ensembles? An ensemble that speaks to my sartorial soul AND appeals to the masses? (In related news, it’s totally Regina George’s fault that I will forever be suspicious of any and every compliment I ever receive…ever.)

Thrifted...everything.

Until next time,

Chelsea