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

img_1097.jpg

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.

xoxo,

Abbey

ImageImageImageImage

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

burrr

img_0797.jpg

IMG_0784To round out my Christmas break, I took a trip to see my lovely summer roommates in our old stomping grounds. It was so nice to see New York in all of her wintery, snowy glory. Due to the "polar vortex" sweeping across the country, mostof my carefully calculated outfits—deemed unworthy to wear to Chili's or Panera Bread at home—ended up not being able to keep out the bitter cold, thus remained at the bottom of my suitcase. However, our trip to brunch at Rosemary's and walk around Central Park proved perfect weather to sport my most prized Christmas present, my J.Crew moto skirt. I'm crossing my fingers this will be my last visit. Also, this bag is everything I've been looking for in a carry-on, carry-all, out and about bag for a couple years now. Plus it adds a punchy chic note to any drab legging/sweater look I find myself in when school starts.

IMG_0806 IMG_0788 IMG_0814 IMG_0796IMG_0797[sweater-h&m, skirt-j.crew(on sale!!), bag-dsw, hat-gap, scarf-h&m, coat-mamaw's, boots-thanks syd]

fashion blogging, narcissistic, even if ironic

Narcissism. It's a scary word which, try as you might to not associate with yourself, always comes back in the depth of introspection to haunt your intentions. This topic has already been woven into the fashion/journalism world by two journalists far more influential than myself, but I just thought I'd share my thoughts since, you know, I'm interested in fashion journalism.
Hamilton Nolan wrote a piece for Gawker discussing the suggested feux pas that is teaching collegiates to write about themselves rather than others, because let's face it everyone likes to talk about themselves. In short:
"The average inmate at your local jail probably has a far more interesting life story than Susan Shapiro or you or I do, no matter how many of our ex-boyfriends and girlfriends we call for comment. All of the compelling stories you could ever hope to be offered are already freely available. All you have to do is to look outside of yourself, and listen, and write them down."
-Nolan Hamilton
In my studies at UA, I can honestly say I've never been assigned an opinion piece, but in my journey to become an influential fashion journalist/icon/blogger/stylist/something of importance I will admit it's all about me. 
Someone somewhere decided if you wanted to get anywhere in life, you must pretend that the world is interested in what you have to say and it is your duty to pretentiously, but humbly give the world what it demands: your witty anecdotes, your pretend-like-you-know-what-you're-talking-about-opinions, your fiercest runway-worthy scowl and your most flattering body shot. You know, the one where you held your breath at the exact moment the wind lifted that piece of side-bang so that it wisps across your left eye? That one. I anticipate my mom reading this and calling me right after, reassuring me that people care and she's interested, but why? My measly 21-year existence can't possibly garner the credit to be written about, much less photographed. Like anyone really cares what I'm wearing. 
Leandra Medine posted a response to the Gawker article on her blog The Man Repeller. I thought it was interesting to read a fashion blogger's insight, since the whole purpose of a blog is to write about yourself and she has had quite the success doing so. 
Medine was convicted by the article's assumptions and encouraged readers to rather than trying to achieve happiness by way of self-discovery, just be.
What a novel idea. Why do we I need 11 Instagram "likes" to validate my importance? Because if not 11, then all ten names are displayed and it just looks insufficient. Insufficient, because my existence doesn't suffice if no one else is listening. 
Woah, sorry guys, got a little carried away there. I've always been the attention-seeking type, so maybe this whole fashion industry thing will work out. On that note, I will continue to post on my personal style, because, well, I know not many people read this and it's fun and I feel that this microcosm is one way to participate in my not-so-far-off dream. And maybe, I don't know, maybe I do need a little validation now and then. No shame, as long as you post ironically, but that's for another day. 
I don't have a solution or even an idea that could properly address the "look at me" culture. As for myself, I'll have another cup of humble tea for us all. We need it.