Deja Blue

Several weekends ago, I hit up a local secondhand clothing boutique in Rockwall called Second Evolution, which was not surprisingly voted Dallas's best vintage resaler on the Dallas A List.  They are jam packed with all kinds of high-dollar designer jeans listed for a fraction of the cost of brand new ones.  As I scoured the overloaded racks in search of my beloved Miss Me's and Rock Revivals in my size, I was hit by a sudden feeling of "deja BLUE."  It seemed like I had done this before.  Um, that's because I had...and quite often I might add!

Apparently every single I time I go shopping for new summer tops (which I REALLY need) and strappy sundresses (which I don't), I unknowingly wind up in the denim department, trying on yet another pair of blue jeans--which I really, really don't need!  I guess I've just become one of those people who can't refuse designer jeans if I happen to be able to score them at a major discount; thus, my closet is embarrassingly well stocked.

I have lost count when it comes to the number of pairs of jeans I currently own, unlike shoes, which I pride myself on the actual (obscene) number.  We all have our vices, right?  But when it comes to jeans, I justify my borderline obsession by the fact that jeans are (and thankfully, always will be) a fashion STAPLE.  They go with absolutely anything and everything.  Plus, I get to wear them to work every day if I want to.  That simple equation adds up to the fact that I can never have too many pairs, right?  A rhetorical question--please don't answer.  Well, I guess it also depends on who you ask.  I'm fairly certain my mother would have a mild heart attack if she knew just how much money I had invested in my jeans collection even though they were (mostly) purchased at less than full price.  There are just so many styles, cuts and washes--and the pocket embellishments?  Don't even get me started.

When it comes to shopping for jeans, I always recommend that you purchase your jeans just a tad bit snug.  They will loosen and stretch with every wear, eventually conforming to your body like a second skin.  Notice I said snug--not so skintight that getting dressed in the morning requires throwing yourself back on the bed while squirming and making groaning sounds like a cat in heat just to get those jeans over your hips and butt.  * Please note, however, that the universal "jeans stretch" is 100% okay.  I know you know exactly what I'm referring to--those crazy, lunge-like motions and contorted yoga poses that help expedite the stretching of your just-removed-from-the-dryer, temporarily tight jeans.  Every morning, I fear Jeremy will walk into the closet and witness this ridiculous-looking act, but it's a necessary evil for all denim-sporting individuals.  I digress.

If you are like me and can't seem to shake the urge to splurge on denim, at least take my advice and satisfy your cravings at discount retailers.  Forgo Dillards, the Buckle and pricey western stores, and instead, shop at discount retailers, "resalers" and the like.  I also recommend Poshmark, a free downloadable clothing app on your phone that allows fellow fashionistas to buy and sell gently used (and sometimes new) clothing and accessories at unbelievable low prices.  I got one of my fave pairs of Rock Revivals there for only $60--and if you think that's a lot, you better sit down when I tell you they typically retail for at least $150 and above.  It's crazy, I know.  I could never drop that kind of cash on a single pair of jeans.  Same goes for True Religion.  I picked up a pair of those trendy jeans on Poshmark for about only $70.

Also, if you happen to find yourself in Rockwall or McKinney with time to kill, hit up Second Evolution--you won't be disappointed!  Other places to check out are Platos Closet and other secondhand retailers in the more upscale (read: rich) cities.  You're more likely to find better-quality clothing in the ritzy parts of town.

The moral?  Repeat after me, "Paying full price for designer jeans is ridiculous."  Plus, savings wads of cash on jeans comes with certain merited bragging rights.  You know there's nothing better than responding to a friend's sincere compliments with a smug, "Thanks, I got them at (insert retailer here) for half price!"

So yes, I may have an addiction to jeans shopping, but at least I hunt for bargains.  And jeans really do hold up for quite a long time if you take good care of them.  God forbid I should gain an ounce and not be able to fit into my designer collection--even after I have tried and failed in my attempts to loosen the stubborn fabric with jean-stretching exercises.  (I joke, but I also tremble inside at the thought--oh, the horror!)  I guess the worst case scenario is that I sell/trade them in for a multitude of "new" used jeans in my current size.  And so the cycle repeats itself--allowing for, yet again, deja blue.

Shoes, My Solemate

Much like the proverbial tree falling in the woods with no one around to hear it, I find myself wondering...if my fave department store holds a shoe sale and I'm unable to partake, did I really just lose out on hundreds in savings???  I pity the thought!

In case you know absolutely nothing about me at all, I will sum up my biggest downfall in a word: shoes. I know what you're thinking--all women love shoes, right?  Well, that's a fairly accurate blanket statement; however, I don't know many women who adore shoes to the extreme level that I, myself, do.  Some might say (more specifically, my mother) that my love affair with shoes borders on obsession.  To which I respond, "Po-TAY-to, po-TAH-to."  Call it what you will, but no label will deter me from my goal of accumulating pair after pair of  fabulous footwear to fill the shelves of my "pink room's" closet.  (That's right--my shoes have their very own home in my private, pink-walled, girly room upstairs).  Did you really think Jeremy would allow my strappy Calvin Klein sandals, Betsey Johnson platform wedges and  Guess studded stilettos to displace his raggedy T-shirts and worn-in Levi's, rendering them homeless?  Gasp.

But it's really okay.  I honestly don't mind the final step of getting dressed in the morning, which includes my ascension to the top of the stairs to select the "shoes of the day."  If it means I can have a whole closet dedicated solely to my footwear (pun intended), I'd likely trek across the state of Texas in 102-degree heat.  In all actuality, you should know that more often than not, my shoes determine my outfit.  Most of my wardrobe was acquired to match a pair of fabulous shoes I had already purchased (most likely on impulse).  Call it the "chicken vs. the egg" quandary if you will.  I, however, happen to know that the chicken came first---and so did my shoes.

I'm a firm believer that shoes can totally make the outfit.  I will subject myself to what others deem sheer torture as I stuff my feet into a pair of constrictive sandals that look like a device to force information from of a prisoner of war.  Some even call it sheer "shoe-pidity."  I, however, am willing to suffer the pain for the overall look of the ensemble because I simply don't believe in "sensible shoes."  Honey, we all know that if they don't hurt, they ain't worth wearing!  Repeat after me, "If the shoe hurts, it must be fabulous!"

The other day, my mom went out of her way to clip a newspaper article specifically for me.  The article was written by a podiatrist advising readers against wearing sky-high heels, lest they suffer future foot and back pain and require invasive surgery.  Evidently, the human body was not made to hold its weight on a 4-inch peg nor be forced to walk at an awkward angle.  Um, duh!  I already know this.  Did the article succeed in scaring me into flat shoes--or worse, shoes with a shorter, more sensible heel?  Of course not.  Much like the smoker knows the dangers of the cigarette or the sun worshiper knows the consequences of exposure to ultraviolet rays, the fashionista is acutely aware of the dangers associated with wearing high heels.  The truth is, we're all gonna die of something.  And frankly, I'd rather go looking stylish (instead of with blackened lungs and sunspots all over my face).  So the moral of this story is: there are worse vices to have.

Rather than avoid ridiculously tall and incredibly uncomfortable shoes, I embrace them.  In fact, I like to think of my shoes as my dear friends.  I love them, and in turn, they lift me up and offer me support.  Plus, they make me feel great about myself.  After all, isn't that what friends are for?  Do they hurt me at times?  Sure--but then again, what lifelong friend hasn't done his/her share of hurting us?  We never stop loving them despite their flaws.

So to any gentlemen reading this, please take note......the next time your girlfriend/wife emerges from the bathroom in a pair of absurdly tall high heels, don't you DARE say a word to her about practicality--even though you know at the end of the evening, she'll curse them for the pain they've caused and sweetly ask you for a foot rub.  Grin and bear it--and know she's making an effort to look sexy especially for you.

Also, the next time you shake your head as a woman dangerously teeters on 5-inch stilettos while slowly and carefully crossing an uneven parking lot, please slow down and allow her ample time to pass safely by.  That fall is a long way down.  You can think to yourself, "those high heels are ridiculous" if you want.  But I assure you in the same breath you'll also utter, "Damn, she looks good in those!"

Under the Gunn

Each Saturday morning, you can find me curled up on the couch with my dog, Charlie, catching up on the previous Thursday-aired episode of Project Runway. Regrettably, I'm unable to watch it live as Jeremy is vehemently against my favorite show.  He can't stand all the drama, yet he watches Cops on a semi-regular basis. Hello, hypocrite!

Anywho, I'm thrilled that the current season has welcomed back Mr. Tim Gunn as the contestants' mentor (the All Stars version of the show excludes him, and is, in turn, quite lacking in appeal).  I would love to meet him someday.  In fact, Tim Gunn is one of my top choices for famous guests at a hypothetical dinner party.  Oh, the pressure to dress impeccably!

I admire his kindness, authenticity, immaculate style, and candor delivered in a tenderhearted tone.  He seems like a genuinely nice guy who is committed to helping each and every contestant deliver his or her best work. His trademark "make it work" mantra encourages contestants to rise above any challenges, whatever they may be, and press on to deliver a winning garment--or at least one that is indicative of their talent and personal aesthetic.

Tim doesn't hold back during his one-on-one critiques in the work room, yet he delivers constructive criticism in an honest manner that is not harsh or snarky (unlike some of the judges). While I don't always agree with the judges' opinions and criticisms, I often find myself nodding along as Tim imparts his wisdom and shares his thoughts and critiques with contestants. 

I can just tell that Tim is a total sweetheart with nothing but good intentions.  He's well spoken, stylish and polished, yet down to earth.  I'm fairly certain that if we were to meet in real life, he could easily become my BFF--and oh, what a shopping buddy he'd make!

Gladiator, Begone!

There are few fashion trends that I look upon with utter contempt, but as I flipped through the glossy pages of People Style Watch the other day, I was reminded of one of them: the gladiator sandal.  The phrase "Long live the gladiator!" springs to mind as this strappy eye sore of a sandal simply refuses to die.  With the passing of each spring and summer season, the hideous sandals make a reappearance on the pages of (gasp) fashion magazines.

In my mind, gladiator sandals are right up there with Ugg boots.  I mean, come on people, they're called Uggs for crying out loud!  Coincidence?  I think not.  With the exception of young girls--and when I say young, I mean toddlers--no grown woman should sport these awful boots.  They give off the vibe that you're not even trying.  It's like rolling out of bed and going to college classes in your pajamas.

Another trend I can't seem to wrap my head around is Crocs.  I get the whole idea of comfort, but seriously--that's why God invented the flip flop!  Crocs sandals are the equivalent of wearing elastic-waistband pants on your feet, and that is just completely unacceptable for people under the age of 70. 

If you're of the school that gladiator sandals are cute, then I regret offending you; however, I am willing to take you shoe shopping.  Same goes for Ugg boots, but I'm sorry, if you stand behind Crocs, then you're already beyond help. 

Death to the gladiator---for the love of fashion, please go away!!!