{Almost daily outfit of the day} A hair don't 4.23.12

Thrifted Zara blouse; Gap trousers; Old Navy belt; Steve Madden pumps; thrifted vintage Coach bag; Forever 21 bracelets

I am at that uncomfortable almost-need-a-haircut phase that happens approximately four weeks after getting a haircut. This never fails to coincide with an perplexing increase in compliments regarding my hair, leading to put off the haircut much longer than I should. I spend an embarrassing amount of time debating whether I really do need a haircut, or whether I can stand feeling like a hippie for a bit longer. I suspect all us short hair girls go through this. Do we chop it off, or grow it out? Do we experiment with headbands and fanciful hair clips or go in for regular trims? WHAT IN GOD'S GREAT NAME DOES OUR HAIR WANT FROM US ANYWAY AAAAARRGGGGHHHHH???

I have an appointment for a trim on Friday. Which I will probably regret. But it's better than feeling like a hippie.

How often do you go between haircuts?

{Almost daily outfit of the day} In the trenches 3.20.12

Thrifted Norma Kamali trench coat; Gap Outlet jeans; thrifted Gap chambray blouse; Ellen Tracy heels; thrifted Coach "Willis' satchel; Old Navy belt; Forever 21 bracelets

I want you all to know that I tried very hard to prevent this post from dissolving into a discussion about Downton Abbey, but I am so obsessed with that show that I could not continue without it. I am convinced that Netflix added Downton Abby because they're planning to take over the world while the rest of us get nothing done. If you haven't seen Downton Abbey, the show captures the behavior of an aristocratic family and their meddling but loyal servants against the rigid societal boundaries of the Victorian era. Today's photos, containing my recently thrifted trench coat, instantly reminded me of the intrigue and diabolical manipulation at play between Downton characters. Let's hope the show doesn't kindle a longing for corsets. That would be too much.

{Almost daily outfit of the day} Simply pink 3.7.12

Thrifted vintage silk blouse; Old Navy jeans; Jessica Simpson pumps; Gap belt; Frye clutch; vintage rhinestone necklaces; Forever 21 bracelet

At this time tomorrow, I'll be hurling down the freeway headed to Austin for the Texas Style Council Conference. It's hard to believe that a year ago I was preparing for the same event as an attendee (and nervous newbie blogger) while this year I'm one of the co-chairs! I'm so excited to speak on the panels, mingle with designers and brand managers, and meet bloggers I've only interacted with on Twitter or through blog comments. If you'll be at the conference, please come by and say hi. I'd love to meet you!

{Almost daily outfit of the day} Animal magnetism 3.5.12

Vintage thrifted silk blouse; Gap Outlet cargos; Old Navy belt; thrifted Ferragamo pumps; vintage thrifted python clutch; Forever 21 bracelets

I'm not going to lie: This outfit was built around my shoes. I thrifted these Ferragamos for less than $10 at the Salvation Army, and now I'm searching for any excuse to wear them. Great as these shoes are, though, my current thrift passion is silk blouses. Silk feels so luxurious to wear, and you can scoop up a silk blouse for around $5 (as opposed to J Crew's versions for $98.)  I generally ignore sizes when considering silk blouses. The more oversized they are, the better they look.

{Almost daily outfit of the day} Gloomy blues 2.17.12

Vintage thrifted blazer; vintage thrifted blouse; thrifted Seven For All Mankind jeans; thrifted Coach ballet flats; thrifted Coach bag; Old Navy belt

If I am wearing jeans, it's for one of three reasons:

1. In a tragic twist of circumstance, I have become trapped under something heavy inside my closet, and am thus only able to reach a rogue pair of jeans that has escaped its hanger and become abandoned on the floor.
2. Each and every pair of Spanx I own is swimming languidly in my washing machine.
3. It's raining.

Today, we're going with option number three. It's hard to be inspired to dress creatively when skies are overcast and gloomy, and the only thing I plan to do is beach myself on the couch, eat takeout pad thai,  and watch Gwyneth Paltrow die a grisly, painful death in Contagion.

Almost daily outfit of the day: Post-cataclysmic dress 12.5.11

Lucky Brand jacket; thrifted Gap blouse; thrifted Joe's Jeans; Dolce Vita suede ankle boots; Old Navy belt;  Forever 21 and Charming Charlie bracelets

It's been raining for three days straight, the kind of cold, piercing rain that stabs straight into your bones and makes you want to hide at home in your sweatpants watching Anne of Green Gables all day. I am not one for rainy days. I think it takes a certain kind of person to thrive in them. These people embrace melancholy and live in houses with dark, heavy furniture. They drink a lot of whiskey, and listen to opera, and journal morose poetry about a post-apocalyptic world reminiscent of a Cormac McCarthy novel.

The same kind of cataclysmic, grim landscape that pervades this poetry is exactly what the view outside my window reminds me of right now. McCarthy's characters battle starvation and desperate, hopeless situations. They face cannibalistic hoards of nomads, electrical storms, and brutal weather. Stormy days aside,  I'm thankful to avoid such lyrical horror and cocoon myself at home on the couch, huddled in layers, glaring at the clouds rushing by. 

Almost daily outfit of the day: x' (shorts) + y2 (tights) = k e2 (ugh)

Old Navy sweater; thrifted Gap gingham shirt; Gap Outlet shorts; We Love Colors tights; thrifted vintage Cole Haan boots; thrifted vintage satchel

When I was younger, my arch nemesis was math. I hated math. I moaned and groaned through lessons at school. I procrastinated on my homework. I flunked tests in a tragically magnificent manner, earning single-digit scores that led to painful conferences between my parents and teachers. It became kind of a family joke, Elissa and her math problems. Eventually my parents found before and after-school tutors, and I spent long, long, long hours sitting through private instruction, watching the clock tick depressingly towards oblivion.

The worst thing about my math disability wasn't my failing grades. No, the worst thing was the hope and optimism I felt before each test, only to discover that I'd flunked. One particularly tragic exam from my junior year comes to mind. I was absolutely convinced I'd not only passed that midterm, but aced it. Finally I had conquered my math demon. My parents could stop shelling out money on tutors and spend it on something useful, like a pony. Schoolmates would line up at my door, begging me for the secret formula to my math genius. My cousins would stop making fun of me for my inability to calculate fourth-grade fractions. I had made it.

If memory serves me correctly, my grade on that exam hovered in the forties.

I feel that today's shorts and tights outfit strikes a similar chord. When I got dressed this morning, I was sure I'd nailed this look. I carefully studied images on Pinterest with women in shorts and tights, and took inspiration from their denim and boots. I waltzed out of my house with a confident strut. Now, I'm not so convinced. And if a quadratic equation exists that can solve the problem, I'm beyond hope.

Almost daily outfit of the day 8/17/11

Old Navy linen blouse; thrifted vintage skirt; Old Navy belt; H&M sandals; thrifted Coach satchel; Charming Charlie and Forever 21 bracelets

If it were up to me, I'd wear thrifted sequins and vintage dresses and outrageous outfits composed of lace maxi skirts and cropped tops and MASSIVE amounts of jewelry and teetering high heels all the time. Unfortunately, that's not always possible. Such as days like today, when I have to accompany my children to the Lego Discovery Center (which I SWEAR is the depository of every tantrum-throwing, nose-picking, screaming child within a 60 mile radius of Dallas) and run to the supermarket to pick up the one most important thing I neglected to get the last time I was at the supermarket. In these environments, sequins and crop tops are not such a good idea. But linen and swirly skirts are. I still managed to throw on a pile of bracelets, which garnered a few looks from the general public. I guess that'll have to do.

As long as you're here...PLEASE take a minute and vote for me in the CBS DFW Most Valuable Blogger Awards! I'm a finalist!

 

Outfit Post: How do you define blogging success?

So I just passed my seven-month blogging anniversary. Truthfully, I had no clue I've been blogging for this long, and had to go searching through my archives to learn exactly when I published my first blog post. (If you'd like a laugh, go check out some of my earliest posts. They're HIGH-larious.) I'll confess that I'm not an especially sentimental person. I never partook of the whole SQUEE it's-the-four-monthiversary-of-the-first-time-I-was-kissed/ate sushi/had sex/bought towels with my boyfriend at Bed Bath and Beyond-HEARTS AND RAINBOWS-and-LURVE *TWEE.* It's just not for me. Mostly because I'd rather buy someone (or myself) a present whenever I feel like it and don't like to save cake for special occasions.

However, the realization I'd been blogging for seven months straight gave me a bit of pause. I never thought I'd make it this long. I never expected to have quite so many followers, and have my writing featured on other sites. And I certainly didn't think my content would be so far evolved beyond daily outfit posts. I could not have predicted that my blogging would be a success.

Success is a strange concept to define. We've all heard the cliche that success is a journey, not a destination. There's often more fun in the chasing than the catching. I deeply enjoy researching and writing my posts; I like putting together outfits to be photographed; and I get a thrill every time I see a new follower or have a post featured. But the fun is in the pursuit. I love the excitement of producing fresh content, the what-ifs of how my posts will be received, and the hopes that come with them.

I believe success is about how I see myself and how I'm able to enjoy my life. It's simple to wrap success up in tangible rewards - things that success grants us, such as acquiring great wealth, holding a high position in a career, or winning a game. And it's true that success is largely about achieving something you have set out to do. But limiting yourself to those attributes doesn't factor in the role of happiness, personal fulfillment and peace of mind.

Here's what I've learned: Blogging success is not about the numbers - whether that includes the number of followers, number of comments or the amount of money pulled in from sponsors. Blogging success is about the loyalty of your readers, whether they continue to come back, and if they establish a relationship with you through regular, thoughtful comments. You can have 20 followers, or 4000, but your success is defined by the relationship they have with your blog. I am fortunate to have an incredibly loyal readership, and their support and regular comments are what make me feel like a success.

Furthermore, if your blog makes you stressed, anxious and pressured, your 4000 readers are meaningless. If you are not receiving personal satisfaction from your blog, you have failed. If your blog doesn't inspire you to produce interesting, engaging content that energizes you, you have failed. And if you're blogging merely to please your readership, you might also consider your blog unsuccessful. 

Although the only true way to define success is to create and meet your own goals, I would argue that tangible goals (such as follower count) only get you so far. A raise at work combined with miserable conditions wouldn't make you happy. So why permit your blogging "numbers" to define your success? Does your blog make you happy? Do it energize you? Does it inspire you? Are your readers loyal and engaged? If you can answer yes to these questions, you are a success.

Now it's your turn: How do you define blogging success? Do you struggle with being too focused on the numbers? Be sure to share what you feel is successful about your blog - we'd love to hear!

Vintage thrifted silk top; vintage thrifted skirt; vintage clutch from Vintage Martini;  Old Navy belt; Miz Mooz wedges; Forever 21 necklace and bracelet; Marc Jacobs watch

Outfit Post: Why fat is not a feeling

The other day my husband and I found ourselves in a rip-roaring fight on the phone. He said hurtful things; I countered back with a few digs of my own. Eventually, we realized our fight was getting us nowhere, and we hung up.

Later that evening, as I sat working on a blog post and chewing on the argument, I began to ruminate on everything Id eaten that day. Suddenly, I could feel my thighs expand. My stomach felt bloated and bulging. And my arms, oh good God, how could I have worn a sleeveless shirt with flabby arms like these? I am so, so fat, I decided. I feel fat and gross and disgusting and OH GOD I FEEL TOO FAT TO EVER LEAVE THE HOUSE AGAIN.

I find myself thinking "I feel fat" at least a few times a week. After a twenty battle-year with an eating disorder, my self-esteem is pretty much welded to my body image. When I feel good about myself, when I like who I am, I feel “skinny”. When I make a mistake, when I’m not 100% perfect, I feel “fat”.

Do you ever wonder why it is that you can wake up feeling good about your appearance, but by the end of the day feel certain that you have gained twenty pounds? Sometimes it doesn’t even take all day for the shift in mindset - it can seem to happen in an instant. But usually there's a precipitating event, something that triggered such self-critical thoughts about your body.

One explanation for our reliance on "I feel fat" is that we might not know how to identify feelings other than “fat.”Our culture discourages us from complaining, or otherwise expressing dissatisfaction with aspects of our lives other than our body image. Because of this we may not be comfortable identifying and articulating our feelings. Considering that we learn at a young age that complaining about our bodies is socially acceptable and even encouraged, we may not have a lot of practice identifying feelings other than "fat."

Dr. Stacy Nye a specialist in the field of eating disorders describes this, “Saying I feel fat can often be a common denominator for a variety of powerful forces, especially dysphoric moods.”(Dysphoric = an emotional state characterized by anxiety, depression, or unease.) “The problem comes when a person is unable to decipher these moods and they get condensed into a final common denominator – feeling fat” Says Dr. Nye.

In addition, we might have been so unhappy about our appearance for so long that we see it as the cause of all problems. The explanation for the state of our life might be, "Of course I'm unhappy - I'm so fat." Body dissatisfaction becomes the explanation for the problems in our lives. Though destructive, this narrative may be rooted in an attempt at self-preservation. Our psyches tend to steer us toward things we can tolerate, and away from those which are messy, overwhelming, or threatening. Proclaiming "I feel fat" becomes so routine, so part of our daily monologue, that we aren't even aware of how often we say it.

When I find myself stewing in negative vitriol about my body, I try to step back and take stock. What am I really feeling? Could there be more going on than dissatisfaction with my body? Has something happened to agitate me?

How often do you find yourself complaining that you "feel fat"? Do you find yourself using these words after a stressful event? Or is "I feel fat" part of your routine, everyday dialogue?

Thrifted white sleeveless top; thrifted vintage skirt; Old Navy flip flops; Buffalo Exchange vintage bag; Dolly Python leather cuff

Outfit Post: Aspirational-sized clothes = self-esteem killer.

While out thrifting on a Sunday night, I unearthed the most gorgeous vintage chambray skirt. Without a second thought, I plunked down $1.79 at the register and excitedly raced home. As I searched my closet for a hanger, my fingers just happened to glance on the hem of another skirt. A chambray skirt. Almost exactly like the one I'd just purchased. Clearly, the time had come to purge my closet.

I own many things that are sartorially sinful. Like those outdated preppy button-downs I had purchased for a failed career as an executive assistant (don't ask.) And that gauzy peasant skirt from the one week I decided I was meant to be a gypsy. And those miniskirts I used to tart around in back in my early twenties which truthfully would make better Swiffer pads today.

So, I purged. I purged like I never have. Gone! went the thin v-neck sweater that magically made my small B's  look like medium C's. Gone! to the leopard-print miniskirt that I thought would go with ANYTHING but turned out to be wrong with everything. Gone! to the cropped jeans, and the silver python print heels that killed my feet, and the psychedelic print maxi dress that recalled a particularly hallucinogenic scene from Across the Universe.

Most of the stuff was easy to ditch. But the clothes that were especially difficult to part with were those in aspirational-sizes, clothes I held onto purely for their ability to self-flagellate. Peer into a woman's closet and you'll almost certainly discover a cashe of someday-I-will-wear-this outfits. In 2006, a Talbots National Fit Study poll asked 2,200 women ranging in age from 35 to 65 about their clothes-buying habits. Here's what they found:

• More than 33 percent admitted to having clothes in their closet that were too small for them to wear; and 
• Forty percent purchased clothes that were too small in hopes that they would one day be able to wear them after losing weight.

As I looked at my pile of too-small clothes I wondered if holding onto these items actually helped women lose weight, or if they just resulted in increased negative body image. So I did a bit of research and came up with a compelling list of reasons why keeping too-tight clothes actually hurts your self-esteem.

• These clothes are a constant reminder that you're not at your "ideal size". While this thinking might seem motivating, it actually leads to lower self-esteem and self-worth. Whether your body has changed as a result of childbearing, illness, aging or weight gain/loss, holding onto too-small clothes does nothing to help you accept your body as it is today. 
• Too-small clothing makes you feel like a failure. End of story. It doesn't matter if you're making progress on a weight-loss regime. Just as many people rely too heavily on the scale to measure their success, trying on clothes that don't fit can set you up for failure, too. The scale - or the size of your jeans - doesn't necessarily determine your progress accurately. 
• Holding onto aspirational-sized clothing could result in unsafe, and potentially dangerous, dieting practices. During my lowest points in my struggle with anorexia, I used pre-teen sized clothing to measure my descent into illness. One of the bravest things I ever did in my recovery was burning these clothes. Literally. I threw them into a bonfire while in treatment. And I haven't missed them since. 
• Longing for your former figure can prevent you from finding true happiness today. According to a February 2003 study in the American Journal of Psychiatry, a fear of failure drives many women to starve themselves back into smaller sized clothing. Instead of embracing who they are today, they focus their attention on getting back to the size they once were.
  

My too-small clothes existed to shame me into starvation and induce guilt about anything I put in my mouth. These clothes taunted me into a downward spiral of decreased self confidence, disgust and despair. Getting rid of them was a symbol of reclaiming my self-esteem. And it doesn't hurt that I have more room in my closet now.

I ask you - does your closet contain too-small clothing? Why do you believe you hold onto these items? Have you ever considered getting rid of hem? What would a closet purge mean to you?

Thrifted Ralph Lauren linen shirt; thrifted Ellen Tracy silk skirt; Gap sandals; thrifted vintage Coach satchel; Old Navy belt; Plato's Closet leather bracelet; Michael Kors rose gold watch

Outfit Post: Sweet summertime - Do you shop more in the summer?

Ah, summer. To many, summer conjures up memories of lazy afternoons on the beach, dipping toes into icy water and picnicking on the shore. For other people, summer symbolizes vacations at Disney World or Sea World or Six Flags, with sticky overpriced ice pops and standing on endless snaking lines. Summer might mean a reprieve from school, a road trip, an opportunity to barbecue every evening or nights spent camping under the stars.

For Texans, summer means one thing: Heat. Oppressive, stifling, melt-your-lipstick-into-a-greasy-puddle heat. Summer in Texas is third degree burns on your hands from touching the steering wheel. It is three showers a day. It is two cans of sunscreen a week because the ONLY thing you can think about doing is going to the pool, which by end of July feels about as refreshing as a hot tub.

But don't get me wrong. I hate the winter. A forecast of temperatures hovering around freezing leads me to unleash a string of profanities at Mother Nature, meteorologists, frosted windowpanes and soggy mittens. I spend the majority of winter huddled under down throw blankets, nursing mugs of tea while shivering next to my space heater. I hate gray snowy days. I abhor the time it takes me to heat up my car. I despise the fact that I always, ALWAYS lose one of my gloves during the first cold snap. I become a cranky, irritable, whiny douchecanoe filled with melancholy, reminiscing about days spent outdoors on restaurant patios drinking coffee, people watching, and blissfully bathing in sunlight.

However, if I was forced to admit to one enjoyable thing about winter, it would be dressing for it. Winter clothes are cozy and sensuous. Sometimes, when getting dressed on frigid mornings, I liked to pretend I'm a chic 1960's snow bunny vacationing in Aspen or St Moritz or some other glamorous wintry place. I would wear cozy sheepskin coats and hand knit scarves and adorably fluffy ear muffs with an charming, girlish look on my face. My hunky investment banker boyfriend would whisk me through aspen woods to our enchanted snow-covered cabin, luxuriously appointed in antlers and Ralph Lauren furniture and Native American textiles. He'd light a massive fire and play records while I nibbled on tapas and sipped red wine. It would all be very mountain resort opulence, with sable furs and Scandinavian quilts and four-ply cashmere sweaters and Turkish coffee laced with brandy. And horses. Horses we would ride bareback. Because that's how they do it in the Swiss Alps. Or so I've seen on The Travel Channel.

Despite my penchant for wool and velvet and cashmere, I cannot deny that summer clothes are both less expensive to shop for and much more fun. Tee shirts, simple cotton dresses and flowy maxi skirts are the foundations of my summer wardrobe, and I rarely (if ever) spend more than $30 on a garment. I feel more inclined to wear color and prints in the summer, and stores are more than eager to meet my demands. So Yes! I say, to strappy layered tanks. Yes! to metallic strappy sandals. And YES YES YES I MUST HAVE THAT GIMME GIMME to sunglasses and gauzy tunics and sleeveless blouses and cutoff shorts. There's always something new to buy - a bright pair of denim shorts, a floral skirt, a silk blouse. Furthermore, a stream of sunny, warm days only intensifies the impulse to shop. With layers impeding progress, shopping is infinitely more complicated in the winter, what with down coats, heavy sweaters and scarves to drag around.

The NY Times recently published an article regarding fast summer fashion, with the opinion that lower prices and a larger inventory encourage consumers to spend more on apparel in the warmer months.“People shop and dress differently in the summer,” said Catherine Moellering, the executive vice president of the Tobe Report, a trend forecasting firm. "Dressing is simpler, not as tricky. We all give ourselves a bit of a break.” Furthermore, she added: “The availability of inexpensive, high-turnover, trend-driven fashion encourages people to shop more often, because they know that they’re going to see something different, and that’s what they’re looking for.”

Fashion chains such as H&M, Forever 21, J Crew and Zara have become adept at churning out warm weather fashion, often replenishing inventory weekly or even daily. In summer, fabrics are lighter and less expensive to reproduce in nearly every segment of the marketplace. As a result, shoppers are quicker to open their wallets and buy items from a variety of stores, picking and choosing from different departments.

Now I ask you: Do you tend to shop more in the summer? Which season do you enjoy dressing more for, summer or winter? 

Thrifted Ann Taylor blouse; thrifted Theory skirt; White Mountain sandals; estate sale vintage clutch; Old navy belt; Charming Charlie bracelets

Get the look!

• J. P. Ourse & Cie. West Chester Clutch Wristlet 
• Industry IAS10-22 Clutch
• Theory 'Lilith' skirt
• Graphic print linen skirt
• White Mountain 'Dean' sandals
• White Mountain 'Minnie' sandals
• Michael Kors gold belt

Outfit Post: The myth of overthinking

One stifling hot day this summer, faced with yet another day stuck at home perched in front of the air conditioner, I decided to take my kids to our community pool. I donned my most fetching tankini, slathered myself in sunscreen, and perched at the end of the water, monitoring my brood and trying not to get splashed in the face. At one point, another mom arrived next to me, and we started chatting. She clutched her adorable two week-old daughter to her chest, and as I cooed over her baby, uterus weeping white hot tears of envy, I remarked how lovely it is to have a newborn in the house. She looked me over approvingly, squinted, and said, "Oh you should totally have another baby. You're still young, right? How old are you anyway...29, 30?"

And it was then that my mind took off. First came the complimentary thoughts: Wow, this total stranger thinks I look seven years younger than I actually am! Guess I can ditch my wrinkle cream!!! And, soon after, followed the worry: I'm almost 37, way too old to have another baby. Or am I? What if this is my LAST CHANCE to have another kid? Was this stranger right? Was my weeping uterus trying to tell me something? OH MY GOD I SHOULD HAVE ANOTHER BABY BEFORE I'M TOO OLD TO PICK THE KID UP!!!

I've had similar experiences. My tattoos are frequent sources of confusing conversations with strangers. I've been told that "I must really like pain!" and labeled a "rebel" and "hardcore." These simple remarks have sent me into a tailspin of self-doubt and self-consciousness. Do people think I'm dangerous? Do they fear I engage in risk-taking behavior, like doing drugs and jaywalking and driving too slow in the left-hand lane? Do they think I'm some kind of DEVIANT???

And let's not talk about the comments we all get about weight gain/weight loss.

Like most people, I have a million thoughts and worries, and all million of them jostle for my attention at the exact same time. It is completely irrelevant that a few of them are big worries (my financial situation, my partnership within my marriage) and some more inconsequential (did I remember to turn off the coffee maker this morning?) They all seem equally dramatic and important in my mind.

Dealing with all these worries makes me feel kind of like an air traffic controller most of the time. Each worry is a little blip on the screen, swirling and floating through my brain, with the potential to collide midair and cause a huge flaming mess. For the most part, I've gotten infinitely better at controlling these worries: determining which deserves my immediate attention, which ones I can procrastinate for a later time, and which ones I can ignore completely. But sometimes my management skills erode. I start having more trouble sleeping, and hearing more negative self-talk, and feel increasingly self-conscious and insecure.

My primary cause of excessive worrying comes down to overthinking. I am a master at taking a seemingly simple situation, innocent comment or off-handed remark and turning it into a grave situation equivalent to the Libyan uprising. Like most women, I have a tendency to ruminate. I focus on the things I'm not doing right and the things that are out of my control, examining them repeatedly until they swell in size. And as these negative thoughts take over, I get increasingly overwhelmed.

I was catching up on some blogs when I came across this excellent passage concerning overthinking from The How of Happiness:

Many of us believe that when we feel down, we should try to focus inwardly and evaluate our feelings and our situation in order to attain self-insight and find solutions that might ultimately resolve our problems and relieve unhappiness. Susan Nolen-Hoeksema, I, and others have compiled a great deal of evidence challenging this assumption. Numerous studies over the past two decades have shown that to the contrary, overthinking ushers in a host of adverse consequences: It sustains or worsens sadness, fosters negatively biased thinking, impairs a person’s ability to solve problems, saps motivation, and interferes with concentration and initiative. Moreover, although people have a strong sense that they are gaining insight into themselves and their problems during their ruminations, this is rarely the case. What they do gain is a distorted, pessimistic perspective on their lives.

Once I start paying more attention to my internal cues, I began to do a better job of monitoring overthinking. When I find myself thinking in circles, I try to find an activity that will relax me, such as reading blogs - my favorite emotional comfort food - going for a run, or even doing housework. Or, if it’s evening, I go to bed early with a book. Things really do look better after a good night’s sleep, and often something that had me agitated the night before seems much less worrisome the next morning.

Are you an overthinker? What are some things you tend to ruminate about? Have you found any helpful strategies to keep yourself from overthinking?

(P.S - Yes, my shirt is totes wrinkled near the hem. I had originally belted it, but nixed the belt at the last minute. No Photoshopping or touch-ups here, folks. And, apparently, no ironing either.)

(P.S.S - Don't forget to enter my giveaway for a TIKKR watch and extra band!) 

Vintage thrifted silk shirt; Old Navy shorts; White Mountain sandals; Forever 21 necklaces; Forever 21 pyramid bracelet; vintage thrifted python clutch

Outfit post: Inspiration or copycat?

The other day I stood in front of closet, index finger tapping my forehead impatiently, and could not come up with something to wear. It was a stiflingly hot day and I longed for an outfit that was cool and comfortable. I also had some rather Picasso-like abstract tan lines around my shoulders I needed to conceal. I wasn't feeling especially confident about my body, and didn't want to reveal too much skin. Furthermore, my family and I were going out to dinner, and my clothes needed to be appropriate for public viewing. So I did what has become habitual when I'm struggling for style inspiration: I turned on my laptop, cruised a few blogs that I follow, and duplicated an outfit right down to the style of shoes and amount of jewelry.

Initially, I felt fantastic - stylish and attractive. Even - dare I say it? - hot. But as the day wore on I became increasingly uncomfortable. I couldn't keep my shirt tied at the waist like my favorite blogger did. I became self-conscious of the amount of jewelry I had piled on. My skirt felt too short, heels too high, and top itchy and tight. And, worst of all, I felt as if I had betrayed my own sense of personal style. As soon as I got home I ripped the entire outfit off, sat on the corner of my bed, and tried to figure out what went wrong. I had long admired the blogger whose outfit I had duplicated. We had similar senses of personal style and common pieces in our wardrobes. Her outfit photos showed a confident, stylish woman, one many would want to emulate just as I had. So why did I feel so uncomfortable and traitorous? And then a scary thought hit me. Was I a copycat?

So many of us turn to magazines, blogs, and even catalogs (wave to the whimsically layered J Crew outfits) for style advice and instruction. In the aftermath of my style fail, I was left wondering about the difference between being a copycat, and being inspired by a certain look. We all take inspiration from the things we see around us, but at what point does inspiration become copying?

The Free Dictionary defines a copycat as this:

cop·y·cat  

One that closely imitates or mimics another.

v.intr.

To act as an imitator or mimic.

v.tr.

To imitate closely; mimic.

adj.

Closely imitating or following another: a copycat version of a successful product; a copycat crime.

We are all living in what Lawrence Lessig calls "remix culture." It is a time when there is literally nothing new under the sun. You're very seldom going to get an opportunity to do something that does not build on some cultural, artistic, or technical precedent. Copying is what you're going to be accused of it you produce a design that differentiates only in small or superficial details from someone's work. I personally define copying as creating something absolutely identical to what already exists.

Here’s the problem with copying: Copying skips understanding. You have to be able to understand something in order to personally relate to it. When you copy it, you miss that. You simply recycle an idea which someone else generated, based on their own personal life experience. You have no real connection to it, and will always be removed. For this reason, the copy typically lacks depth and detail. It’s usually pretty close, but there’s something not right about it. Which explains why I felt so uncomfortable in my duplicated look.

Inspiration is when you see possibilities no one has seen before. Inspiration comes when we translate a certain concept into something unique and individual. Developing a style further through the use of different accessories, colors, material, and even proportions immediately makes it personal. When you're inspired by a certain design, look or object, your creativity rises. You have energy to put your own twist on it, and make it your own.

At this point in fashion, so little is truly new or original. In order to be unique, you need to exercise your creative muscles and test the boundaries. This might mean branching out from your usual style and trying new looks. While I forgive myself for being a copycat, that doesn't mean I am forbidden from being inspired by other bloggers.  I simply need to have the courage to blend their style with my own perspective, in order to create my own look.

How do you define the difference between inspiration and copycatting? How strong an influence do other fashion bloggers, magazines and catalogs have on your own style? Do you ever feel like a copycat? 

Vintage thrifted white shirt; vintage thrifted denim skirt; vintage thrifted petticoat; Old Navy espadrilles; eBay bracelet

This outfit made me so, so happy. It feels like me. And the petticoat made twirling a requirement.

Outfit Post: The tyranny of the "bikini body"

Memorial Day weekend, 1981: I am seven years old. My parents are hosting a barbecue and have invited my grandparents, aunts and uncles, cousins, and neighborhood friends. The air smells like roasting barbecue briquettes, daylilies, freshly cut grass and hot dogs.The rhythmic spurt-spurt-spurt of the sprinkler permeates the air. I am wearing an enticing two-piece yellow terry cloth bikini which ties around my neck, and my cousins and I shriek as we run through the needle-sharp spray of the sprinkler. My waist-long hair drips water down my back. I feel happy, unencumbered and free.

Flash forward to Memorial Day weekend, present day: I am 36 years old. My husband and three children chatter excitedly about going to the neighborhood pool. I have zero desire to go to the pool, because going to the pool means wearing my swimsuit in public. I stand in front of my dresser and try to calm myself down. I try on two-piece after two-piece, self-esteem plummeting in the process. Swimsuits lie tangled on the floor. My thighs seem to expand with each selection. My body takes up too much space. I am flabby and fat and all-together unacceptable. I feel like a failure.

Every summer, I go through the exact same ritual. I become obsessively focused on the notion of the perfect bikini body, an entity I am certain every woman possesses except for myself. The NY Times recently ran an article exploring the notion of the bikini body, examining the effect it has on fear-inspired marketing campaigns and as a symbol of physical perfection.

There's no way of figuring out when the phrase "bikini body" was first uttered or when its tyranny took hold. It's common knowledge that the two-piece as we know it was invented in 1946 by engineer Louis Réard who christened it after Bikini Atoll. The style became popular in the 50's and by the 80's was standard beachwear. As our culture increasingly enshrines physical perfection, the bikini has come to inspire dread and awe. It wasn’t always so. In the 1960s, when bellybutton-baring suits first became popular in America, “it was a youthful phenomenon definitely,” said Sarah Kennedy, the author of “The Swimsuit: A History of Twentieth-Century Fashions.” Then the high-fashion set and movie stars began to put on bikinis, and by the ’70s, she said, the bikini was “worn by all ages.”

And a few extra pounds didn’t disqualify anyone, considering the fitness revolution was still roughly a decade away. (The NY Times mentions that in the book there’s a 1940s photograph of a fresh-faced still-brunet Marilyn Monroe looking smashing in a two-piece, a roll of pale flesh at her midsection.)

Writes The Guardian's Laurie Penny:

When it finally became popular in the 1960s, the bikini was a symbol of physical liberation, of beautiful women reacting to the stern sexual prudery of previous decades by exposing as much skin to the sun as they pleased. Today, as with many iterations of the sexual emancipation rhetoric of the 1960s, wearing a bikini is no longer associated with pleasure and daring, but with anxiety, dieting rituals and joyless physical performance...The bikini body has become cultural shorthand for a moral standard of female perfection whereby any physical flaw should be regarded as a source of shame, an obstacle to collective fantasies of glamour and happiness.

When did  the bikini become the standard of all beauty? I'm going to theorize that the first Sports Illustrated swimsuit issues, published in 1964, had a lot to do with it. With that publication, swimsuits became explicitly linked with the standards of female desirability. Also, the Swimsuit Issue is published in the winter and had little to do with the reality of actual women being at the beach, let alone swimming, and a lot to do with unattainable goals.

"Bikini body" is the going code for "acceptable." It is always in bikinis that the tabloids feature the "best" and "worst" bodies. Type "bikini body" into Google and you get the following suggested searches:

bikini body workout
bikini body diet
bikini body tips
bikini body fast
quick bikini body

The bikini body has nothing to do with overall health, or fitness, or lifestyle. No, it's about shedding "winter weight" fast, before some arbitrary deadline known as "Bikini Season," at which point we're forced to confront a two-piece suit with, naturally, the requisite "bikini wax," and no trace of cold-weather pastyness. Jezebel argues that the "bikini body" craze goes so much deeper than fatism or fatphobia. It is part of our society's relentless insistence that a woman's body is not her own. It is an object to be criticized.  Our society seems to think that a woman wears a bikini not for herself, but for the public to decide her worthiness.

Will the world end tomorrow if I can't cram my butt into a bikini? I was going to ask Stephen Hawking, but, after some careful mathematical calculations, I was able to come up with the answer on my own: No. Does this mean that I still don't have days where I hate my thighs and stomach so much I want to carve them off of my body with a fillet knife? No. But I understand that those days will happen and that they really don't matter because there truly is NOTHING wrong with my body. I've put it through a lot in the past 36 years and it's stuck around and carried me through everything.

So my motto is this: Just be healthy. Eat things that are nutritionally good for you and exercise, but don't forget about delicious, delicious baked goods and gelato from Pacuigo. Don't deprive yourself of things to satisfy the warped and nonsensical views of people that see you as another bottomless pocket and empty head. 

Do what you want, eat what you want, wear what you want, and be who you want.

Now I ask you: How you deal with the pressure of the "bikini body?" Does wearing a swimsuit in public make you break out in a sweat? Do you avoid going to the beach, pool or lake because of this fear? Does wearing a swimsuit cause you to dread summer activities? And do you have a favorite swimsuit that makes you feel great about yourself?

Thrifted Gap chambray shirt: thrifted vintage dress; Old Navy belt; White Mountain sandals; TIKKR watch; Charming Charlie bracelet; Forever 21 necklace

Outfit Post: Miranda Kerr wants you to know about her underwear

Allow me to share a cringe-inducing little tidbit from a recent People Magazine:

Miranda Kerr’s flawless post-baby body has everyone a little jealous. The Victoria’s Secret Angel, mom to son Flynn, 4 months, with husband Orlando Bloom, bounced right back after giving birth, even hitting the runway in a Paris fashion show.  The model mom says she’s most comfortable when she’s “just in knickers,” hanging around the house with Bloom and Flynn. “People have come to the house and I’m just in my knickers,” she reveals. “[But] I feel like it’s more appropriate to have knickers on than being completely naked.”

If pressed, I'll admit that I've engaged in a few innocent dalliances with US Weekly and People. I have read more than my fair share of exposes on the size and incubation of one's baby bump; the botched plastic surgery attempt of certain b-list celebrities; and pages and pages of baby daddy gossip. I've taken those insipid little tests regarding what my perfume says about my personality, which real housewife I would be in real life, and which celebrity hot spot I should visit during my next luxury vacation (hello, Phuket.) I've examined photos to determine which starlet wore those hideous peach jeans the best. Apparently, this is a thing right now. Peach-colored jeans WILL BE the next blogger red pants. Put your money on it. I've studied Candy Spelling's floorplan and wept white hot tears over the breakups of Courtney Cox and David Arquette/Christina Aguilera and Jordan Brattman/Renee Zellweger and Bradley Cooper. Actually, that last one I'm not so torn up about. Because it means Bradley is available, and I have a shot. Bradley, call me.

Anywhoo. I have been there, people. So I suppose that's why I wasn't so shocked by Miranda Kerr's "I'm so squeally suuuuppppeeeeerrrr comfy in my knickers, teehee" comment. For one thing, once your eyes have been photo-raped by Britney Spears' c-section scar (hello, panty-less crotch shot summer of 2006) you've seen it all. For the time being, let's ignore the snarky, insulting message that Miranda lost her baby weight faster than you did, you fat cow, can't you get your lazy ass off the couch? It's the prancing around the house in her undies that I'd like to focus on. Ms. Kerr is a Victoria's Secret supermodel. Either she's totes getting paid to gush about wearing her undies around the house, or she's a devoted fan of underwear in general. I have no doubt that Miranda spends hours lounging around her immaculately decorated ocean-front limestone mansion in nothing more than a pair of lacy boyshorts and a boned corset three sizes too small for her heaving bosom. She and Orlando probably spend hours having sex on top of the changing table and heating up bottles and preparing homemade baby food in less clothing than their entire baby's layette. I suppose her friends should be happy she wears clothes at all. Naked time for everyone! Weeee!

Personally, when I think of a comfortable choice in clothing to wear hanging around the house, I do not think of my underwear. Underwear is designed to stay under clothes - whether they be leggings and tee shirts or sweatshorts or whatever. I did not grow up in a naked house. My parents were firm believers in sheathing our naked bits in layers of clothing, preferably made from wool. And even now, as a fully grown adult, I don't prance around the house in my skivvies. I can only imagine the horror this behavior would cause - the assault of a splash of hot oil against my uncovered stomach while cooking dinner; the giggling of my children as I emptied the dishwasher; the outright staring of the UPS man when accepting a package; the snickers from friends while serving up cocktails in a push-up bra and satin tap pants. Nope, when I want to be comfortable around the house, I dress in ancient pairs of Old Navy sweats and college tees and maybe, if I'm feeling risque, a Gap body tank.

I'm truly curious to find out if you hang around the house in your underwear. Is this something you're comfortable with? Do you enjoy being naked at home? Why or why not? What do you throw on at the end of the day?

Vintage thrifted silk shirt; vintage Ann Taylor silk skirt; Old Navy belt; vintage thrifted Coach satchel; White Mountain clogs; thrifted (St. Vincent de Paul) Michael Korrs watch; Forever 21 rhinestone bracelet

Outfit Post: Patricia Field and Kotex want to celebrate your magical lady bits

Earlier this month, U by Kotex launched a collaborative contest with costume designer Patricia Field, inviting people to redesign the maxi pad. "Girls have choices in all aspects of their lives, so why should they settle for boring and institutional feminine care products?" said the company in a statement. For every design submitted, Kotex will donate $1 to Girls For A Change—a non-profit organization empowering girls to create and lead social change within their communities. According to Ad Age, contest winners will work with Field to design new and wild maxi pads, and attend Fashion Week in New York City in September.

Confession: Other than the word panties, my least-favorite word in the English language is vagina. I don't know why - I have one, so therefore shouldn't I be comfortable with the word for it? My issues with the vagina probably have to do with the general discomfort I have regarding my body, femininity and related sexuality. Thankfully, I do realize that I'm far from the only person on this planet with issues regarding the word vagina, which probably explains why there are so many alternatives to it, raunchy as they might be.

It might also explain why commercials and print advertising for products related to female anatomy, and that time of the month, are so archaic. Traditional ads are rich in mysterious ecstasy - women in flouncy skirts, twirling in fields or riding carefree on bicycles; clusters of attractive, young women bonding over their brand of tampon. It's absurd, especially considering that ads describing erectile dysfunction are shown during the five o'clock news. If we can talk so openly and frankly about the penis, why can't we do so about the va-jayjay?

Menstruation has always been marketed as a very personal thing, a magical moment when a woman's uterus whispers sweet nothings captured by a special, pillowy product. (My uterus has never whispered anything to me. It yells and then shanks me with a rusty blade.) Or so the average period-products commercial would have you believe. Which is why I just about lost it after seeing Kotex's newest ad campaign. The first ads were meta-parodies of traditional campaigns for female products, similar to those hilarious Old Spice ads. The more recent ones, which rely on hidden camera, man-on-the-street encounters, indicate that there is plenty of cultural taboo and awkwardness regarding lady bits. In one, a girl stands outside a drugstore and asks random guys to buy tampons for her. In another clip, a guy shops for tampons for his girlfriend, eliciting the all-too-apt response, "It's a man's world" (this time in reference to cardboard applicators.)

Kotex Rorschach test
Lady bits; hole; hoo-hah; down-there...anything but vagina.

Kotex man on the street
(IS SHE TALL?!? Love it. Get that man a cigar.)

As Adweek columnist Barbara Lippert writes with reference to the campaign,

"It's interesting that in our hyper-sexualized, girls-gone-wild culture, where characters on sitcoms like Two and a Half Men joke about "nailing" women and commercials airing during the family hour regularly mention four-hour erections, there's still one backwater of weird prudery: the subject of menstruation and the vaginal healthcare that goes with it.

Who knew that you could talk about vaginas and be funny and not insulting? Now we need even more honesty and directness. Women's bodies and sexuality do not have to be embarrassing or *hidden.* (Or talked about in titillating, colloquial terms for the benefit of men.) Though Kotex is surely motivated by a desire to sell more products, I really like that they're encouraging women like me to become more comfortable with their bodies, especially the magical lady parts. Yay vagina!

What do you think of the Patricia Field and Kotex collaboration? Would pretty pads and honest talk about the vagina help you feel more comfortable about your body, and about that time of the month? Would you consider purchasing Patricia Field's redesigned pads? And am I the only one with issues about the vagina?

Forever 21 lace jacket; thrifted Ann Taylor chambray shirt; thrifted Old Navy striped tee; thrifted Talbots skirt; Miz Mooz wedges; Forever 21 rhinestone bracelet and earrings