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

Louis Vuitton Wanna-Be

This amazing vintage dress I picked up for $5 is slightly reminiscent of the Louis Vuitton checkered “it” dress of the season, no? For now it’s as close as I can get to actually owning one of those amazingly brilliant dresses that descended down the escalator during the label’s Spring 2013 show, and has since been spotted in every editorial...ever. (Checkers are in. We get it.) Still…a girl can dream, right? But, as I was poring through the pages (ads) of Vogue last night, dreaming about the day when my closet would be filled to the brim with “real deal” Louis (instead of a thrifted wanna-be) and Prada and Marc and McQueen and Wang…I realized that I was actually annoying myself. Because you know what I find frustrating? The fact that advertising and the media seems to have tricked us into thinking we are all just “temporarily broke millionaires”. I mean, aren’t you? Don’t you one day plan on being, well…rich? Sure you do. I did. But I decided to get over myself and stop being a temporarily broke millionaire and just be a person instead; a person who is content with the present. Being happy and head-over- heels in loooove with my wanna-be Louis Vuitton dress is just my way of sticking it to the man, ya know? And also like, I don’t think I can hang with the 1% club…cuz they seem kiiiiiiinda douchey; albeit very well-dressed and LOADS of fun to party with. (My accusation of douche-baggery is based solely on my new Love-To-Hate-It blog: Rich Kids of Instagram.)

Vintage dress. Vintage pumps. Target hat.

Until next time,

Brittany

Can't Hold Us Down

Sometimes, (often…very often) Britt and I find ourselves in situations in which the universe appears to be testing us; our strength, our wits, and our cunning. Last Sunday, we were put in a situation from which we thought we may never return. And it happened while we were taking these photos. Britt came over to the casa, business as usual, and inquired, “So what’s our location?” “How about we go over to ETHS?" That would be El Toro High School…our alma mater. It’s close by and we’ll be in and out in 10 minutes flat so we can go get ourselves some tacos and beer. Or so we thought…

When we arrived the campus was open, so naturally we drove right in and parked it next to the boys locker room where we started snapping away. I was serving body and face (as always) when suddenly I was distracted by calls of distress coming from what seemed to be a biker gang lurking outside of the campus. “Hey! Help us!” they called.

So we ran to their rescue only to discover they simply needed to retrieve an MMA hoodie they had left behind. Crisis averted, for now. Ok so we’re snapping Britt now and she’s twerking it and then we call it a wrap…time for the Cinco De Mayo celebration! So we hop in my lil Jetta and cruise across campus to our exit gate…LOCKED. The gate is locked. Ok so we don’t panic…we cruise it over past the lunch tables, past the History building to exit via the other gate. LOCKED. Oooook…the back gate! Surely that back gate is open! So we mob it across campus and sloooowly drive up this long-ass ramp that was definitely meant for wheelchairs and NOT mid-sized sedans. And the gate. Is. Locked. We are trapped on our high school campus. TRAPPED. IN OUR HIGH SCHOOL. It’s go time, bitches.

Britt tried to pick the locks with her bobby pin…but to no avail. We tried to find one of those “S” shaped chain links cuz those are a cinch to get through, but there weren’t any of those either. “Dude, we have to call the police to get us out of here!” Britt shouted at me, “Or at least call Dad to bring us some metal chopping tools or something!” In our state of panic, we also wrestled with the idea of straight steady mobbing the fence down, but decided that would be unnecessarily destructive…and a tad dramatic. And then I remembered, that there is a gate that exists; a 4th gate that may offer hope. So we got in my car, drove past the auxiliary gym, up another wheelchair ramp, onto the baseball field, across the baseball field, around the track, and into a small parking lot that’s for like, sports people. And that’s when we saw it: our salvation. A janky old fence that stood no chance against Britt and I. (JK, in our escape we snapped Britt’s house key in half AND her car key.)We poked and prodded and pushed and pulled and got that fence down…PWNAGE. I drove off the curb, nearly ran over Britt’s stiletto-clad foot, and then we neatly placed the fence back where it belonged. The end. Can’t hold us down.

Thrifted vest. Topshop crop top. Vintage skirt. Nike kicks.

Until next time,

Chelsea

PS- Pigtails are my new obsession. I'm in a Baby Spice phase.

On Booty Shorts and Mini Skirts

I don’t know if I’ve got some faulty wiring up there or something, but the answer to “Is this too short?” will always be and enthusastic, “Hell no.” Who likes short shorts? I like short shorts…and dresses and skirts, too. (Style Pro-Tip: Balance a leggy mini with long sleeves.) I like minis because they make you (well, myself at least) feel kinda saucy; flirty and femme and fun. And I rather like people who are flirty, femme, and fun…sounds like a damn good time to me. As I get older, I feel like there is pressure to become more conservative on matters of mini skirts and booty shorts. Like my peers, I feel like I should be questioning, “How can she wear that out in public? What was she thinking? No self-respecting woman would wear that…I mean doesn’t she want men to respect her?” UM…hold up. Sounds like the dudes problem to me. I can’t really get behind the attitude that if you are dressed like a ‘slut’ (ie. showing lots of skin) that somehow warrants men to treat you like shit? OMG epiphany…I’m not the one with faulty wiring…it’s dudes! Dudes, listen, every woman is fully capable of wearing Daisy Dukes and a bra top while at the same time ‘respecting’ herself and knowing that she has worth beyond her gorgeous physical appearance. We enjoy being sexy and being intelligent individuals...all at the same time. So regardless of whether we’re wearing a Burqua or a string bikini…YOU can go ahead and just treat us all the same way you would treat every human being. (And ladies, it would be nice if we all did the same…don’t ya think?) Even if our mini skirt does make you trip over your words sometimes ;)

Thrifted sweater. Thrifted dress. Thrifted Shoes. Thrifted hat. F21/DIY-hacker necklace.

Until next time,

Brittany