I think I've finally begun to shed my minimalistic looks of winter's past to uncover my inner off-duty model look. I'm really feeling the whole grungy, tumblr, selfie-girl swag of Cara Delevigne and M. Cyrus. Yeah, swag. I said it. They always look so effortlessly chic. Probably effortless because they really do get out of bed at noon and roll into whatever predetermined lunch date their publicist recommends. Either way, they look good. The hair undone, the T-shirt knotted like they just don't give a what. I'm digging it. Here's my take. P.S. Blogging isn't at the top of my list these days, hence this lackadaisical post. I didn't have time to dig through a thesaurus to find a cooler word for swag. Swag it is. You know, just trying to get graduated and find a job. Hire me?

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[shirt-target, vest-river island (old), skirt-target, shoes-target]

If this pose doesn't convince you to hire me, I'm not sure what else I can do.

Thanks, Austin for the photos.

if i was your boyfriend, i'd never let you go.


Image To the jeans with a nine-inch inseam,

Thank you for finding me. I searched high on the shelves of Madewell—overpriced, but probably sturdy, and still too much for me to pay for a pair of jeans. I searched low in the recesses Gap's sale section. The fit too tight to claim to be my boyfriend's jeans. You see, I wanted  the saggy, the shredded, the "I took these right out of my boyfriend's laundry hamper and cinched them just tight enough to rest on my hips with his belt" look. Alas, I have no boyfriend to comb through dirty clothes baskets and every pair of boyfriend jeans I've found seem like they'd suffocate my metaphorical boyfriend's nether region. The boyfriend I'd steal clothes from does not wear the same jeans as me.

But I found them. Forever 21 has my back. I bought them three sizes "too big" they didn't fit just the way I wanted. They are as unflattering as I had envisioned—saggy, frumpy, ragged—and they're perfect.




[sweater-j.crew, jeans-forever21, boots-zara, bag-rm]

that time I liked football

Christmas break means catching up with all things "me" related. Besides Christmas shopping and cookie baking, job searching and holiday cheering I'd love to revamp this whole blog thing. I am open to suggestions; ie. design, logos, wordpress? Please help.
I am way behind in my picture posting; so here's a brief look at my last game-day ensemble as a student at UA. Sports have never been my thing, so I suppose this is one of the last times I'll lose my voice for boys throwing balls; and the last time I stand for five hours to watching fellow classmates fall down stairs after overestimating the ounces of Aristocrat she could tolerate from her floppy flask; and the last time my forearm tires from shaking the third down into submission—or maybe not. 
Gameday's aren't complete without obnoxiously beating the crimson, houndstooth and black horse. I never wore a bow or cowboy boots; this is about as spirited as this soon-to-be-alum gets. Then again, faux fur—the 'Bama trend goddess must have corrupted me. 
Roll tide. 

[dress-jessica simpson, vest-old, boots-old]

for me

My style changes just about every time Miley drops a new single and usually depends on what store I go in first after getting a paycheck. Urban Outfitters—I'm probably inspired by the cropped tops reminiscent of Wrecking Ball and skull emblazoned leggings circa two seasons ago and end up looking more high school, wanna-be yogi than bad ass Brooklynite. Express; I come out with pants too bright and shirts too tight trying to channel my inner sexy secretary in a last chance effort to professionalize my wardrobe. And sometimes online shops like Modcloth and ASOS steal the show and I am convinced to snatch up every woodland creature-printed, Peter Pan-collared, A-line dress my mouse comes close to hovering over.
But after every binge, shortly after, I am shamed by the guilt of hard earned money senselessly spent and the faint tug tugging on my heart of my suede bucks and collared button-downs. Since the beginning of my collegiate endeavors, I have found myself most comfortable, and confident, buttoned up with layers and polka-dots; a little bit vintage and a lot French school-boy. The whole remaking myself into a new character every day is fun when I want to channel Lena Dunham in midi skirts and overall jumpers. But when I just want to be Abbey, I'm probably sporting a boyish silhouette; vests, trousers and lace up oxfords. 
College: self-discovery I really just want a job in a few months and need to look somewhat trustworthy to a wide audience. No matter how adamantly I defend Miley's life choices, I'm not sure any self-respecting employer would understand squeezing my not size 2 bod into sequined hot shorts and graphic tees to better convey my modern representation of feminine prowess...not to say I won't break those out for occasions of Halloween-like proportions. In the meantime, I'm coaxing myself to be more me and less "look at me," more comfortable and less conformable—so I'll wear my pleated pants proudly and tuck my sweaters in unnecessarily—for me.
[shirt/pants-forever21 (old,) sweater-boden, bag-rebecca minkoff, hat/shoes/earrings-super old]
Thanks, Daniel for the photos. 

just dance

The first time I put on a tutu in my kindergarten dance class, I knew I was destined for the stage. 
As you all know, that didn't exactly go as planned, but my wardrobe sometimes mimics that of costume-worthy proportions. Those two years of dance class proved two things: dramatic silhouettes are my thing and dancing will never be my thing.
This Christmas, I was determined to find the perfect tea-length tulle skirt to satiate my apetite for girly, over-the-top, Carrie Bradshaw-inspired accouterments. The skirt was located via Atlantic-Pacific, a cool $300 Athropologie number even Santa couldn't afford. I have my mother to thank for snagging a less pricey and just as snazzy version from Shabby Apple.
I have to admit, I haven't found the right occasion to sport my most precious fashion find, but when the occasion arrises some boy takes me to a place worthy of a skirt that takes up the entire booth or really just an event of immaculate proportions where I won't be the only one to make eyes at, you better believe my behind will be covered with yards of navy tulle. Until then, I will continue to play dress-up on Saturday evenings and have people take pictures of me while I saunter across busy downtown streets.
I found that the only thing I own worthy enough to pair with such grandiose proportions is my great great aunt's mink stole. Go big or go home, right? I was told she only wore it on Christmas, but I figured a tutu-clad wanna-be vogue-er dancing on busy roads is just as great of an occasion. In real life, if I wasn't just playing dress up, I'd stick to my plain (polka-dot, duh.) t-shirt underneath. It lets the skirt do the talking all while channeling my Sex and the City alter-ego. 
[shirt/headband/necklace-forever21, skirt-shabby apple, shoes-sam edelman]
Pictures: Daniel Roth
P.S. Does anyone know any pixie grow-out methods besides stock piling headbands?

Roll Tide.

The alma mater of both my father and grandfather, the University of Alabama was always on my radar when choosing a college to spend my undergraduate career. Maybe it was the campus visits for multiple football games throughout my childhood or the close proximity to home which inspired my final decision. Either way, here I am.
Football fan or not, Alabama football infiltrates student life each September with vengeance, giving the entire student body a cause to root for, a fight which each of us plays part. For girls, this means being on the prowl all summer for the perfect game day outfits to remain spirited throughout the tailgating, game, and after party activities. For me, this is just another excuse to get dressed up and break out the multitude of houndstooth in my closet. Thanks Bear Bryant
I had the opportunity to style pieces from White House Black Market and create gameday outfits for my fashion column for UA's student paper The Crimson White. Check back for the finished article. Roll Tide.

Thanks WHBM!