A long, long time ago in between reading for con law and criminal law I’d unwind with certain friends at clubs all around LA. The more underground the better. There’d be hell to pay for it the next day in an early class but the way we saw it, we were “researching” for future clients and cases in those dives. During my last year in school, my landlord’s late husband had owned a bunch of the clubs on Sunset Blvd so that was a great connection to have.
It’s crazy to be young and restless in LA, especially with access, but I suppose you need a little abandonment and a lot of youthful resilience at some point in your life to know when to stop later on. Theoretically speaking.
These days in my reformed life, the closest I get to revisit my past is at live music venues like the Sunset Strip Music Festival that took place this weekend.
The city of West Hollywood closed down a few blocks and some 40 bands showed up to take the stage on the street as well as in the clubs:
Out on the West Stage, there was eye candy for the guys –the girl band The Donnas–
as well as for the gals–boy band Pepper:
In between sets I tried to capture a sense of concert fashion in this town for you…
and my conclusion is that tats make the best accessory:
Finally, the main event…Korn!
I love their energy. Plug your ears if you want to see this video–the sound is bad but there’s something interesting going on on stage as well as off!
When they covered Pink Floyd’s Another Brick in the Wall, the crowd got even crazier than the above Freak on a Leash. A very large woman was jumping up and down behind me, bouncing into me every time her feet hit the ground. And that’s the main difference between the me from school days and the me today. Back then, I’d bounce right back into her and maybe take out a few other people along the way. Now, I worry about getting my purse dirty. Haha.
A little personal space, please!
Tags: Fashion, Korn, Pepper, purse, Sunset Boulevard, Sunset Strip Music Festival, The Donnas
Now that my passport is getting some needed rest, I’m going to focus a little bit more on the fashion angle of my blog. I’ll be doing some serious spring cleaning and as a result, start a new series on how to change up some looks. Especially during these economic times I don’t have the heart to shop (much) and have blogged about shopping only for investment items that will take me through the fickle fashion cycles…so I will put my money where my mouth is and see if this theory does really apply in real life. I’ve also been talking to a friend about how to pull looks around a certain bag to see if an expensive bag can be both a workhorse and an ornament. The question is whether it still makes sense to spend so much money on a bag anymore? Hopefully I will get her to post her pictures as well because she’s a mommy and will have a different perspective on her wardrobe. So that’s what I’ll be blogging about these coming days.
But before I head into the abyss also known as my very scary closet, I have to say the spring cleaning must begin inside my head. Fashion serves no purpose if it’s murky between the ears. The disconnect between how you feel on the inside and how you look on the outside destroys the purpose fashion serves. How is it possible to rock a look when on the inside all you have is dead weight? This year has already flown by so quickly and as the first quarter draws to a close, my birthday rears its ugly head and I know I have to fight yet a little harder against the aging process. I don’t feel old but darn it all if I don’t already see my body betraying me. I don’t believe in aging gracefully; in fact, I plan on tumbling downhill kicking and screaming. So yesterday I began a 90-day program that blends pilates, yoga, cardio and extreme core exercises. The worst part was not waking up this morning in pain in places I didn’t know I had in my body but looking at the pictures taken of myself in my swimsuit before I started the class yesterday. The “before” photos are supposed to serve as incentive for sticking with the program, but in fact I find them to define the five stages of grief. So far I’ve been in denial (that’s not my derriere in the picture–someone must have doctored those photos!), gotten angry (who the heck invented gravity!), tried to bargain (maybe I don’t really have to ever go swimming again), and gotten depressed (trust me, flabbiness can bring on the blues). I’m just waiting for acceptance to kick in.
I’ve learned to live without a scale and, for the last ten years or so, have gauged my “comfort weight” with how loosely or snugly I fit in the same pair of jeans. I”ve been on and off the yoga/pilates wagon and wish I could get back inside a dance studio on a regular basis. But as stress and life get in the way, I’ve let laziness become a symptom of my lifestyle, and this body that was once so toned is becoming a sad marshmallow. Not even a nice firm marshmallow but one of those melting ones when you make rice crispies.
But unlike other things that I can’t easily change in my life, my health, body, and mind are things I can control. I’ll blog about my progress at the 30, 60, and finally 90-day mark of my training. Who knows, I might even find the courage to get into a short dress at that final milestone. And actually leave the house in it. Maybe then I can finally accept the fact that this is the only body I’ll have for the rest of this ride. So I’d better treat it right. I hope you’ll join me in your spring cleaning.
Tags: core exercises, Fashion, pilates, spring cleaning, yoga
My parents read me so I have to paint the backstory for the title of this blog. I’ve been sharing pictures of my ensembles built around my love of Chanel and other designer goods and we’ve been calling it the Outfit Du Jour (ODJ) thread at the purse forum site and then I’ve cataloged the photos here in the ODJ link. The whole thread, which started out as a lark over a year ago, has morphed into a really fun place where we exchange ideas and help each other score some great finds. There’s nothing more exhilarating than nabbing the very item that has eluded you for so long at some super price. Perhaps it’s the chase that’s more exciting than the conquest, but at the end of the day, there’s not much that’s more fun than sharing the loot with other fashion enthusiasts. I’ve always said that it takes a village to help me build my collection, and out of the experience I have also made wonderful friends with fellow enablers…I mean fashionistas.
This blog, more or less, is becoming an eye witness to my life on the road. My innate restlessness got me here, and it’s just easier to show rather than tell people where I’ve been. To tell them that I’m safe. But beyond that, I want to also use photography to show how and perhaps why fashion plays such a big part in our lives. Not because it’s some substantive issue (though try explaining that to the multi-billion dollar fashion industry) but because it’s so frivolous yet dominant. What makes fashion so relevant throughout the history of man? I don’t know the answer to that but for today, the great thing is that fashion can be anything–it’s not some exclusive club for the rich and famous. Fashion defines itself through you. It finds context in all social classes, eras, economies, and cultures. I know this because it resonates with people that I can pair a cheap t-shirt with a Chanel bag and still look appropriate.
But back to the ODJ…it’s not easy to get action fashion shots when I’m on the road because I am embarrassed to have to explain to any victim I can find to take a picture of me why he/she has to take a bunch of pictures featuring my outfit and especially my purse at different angles, while also capturing the gorgeous landscape behind me. They’re always expecting me to mug for the camera so then I have to ask them to just snap the picture as I’m walking away. It’s about the outfit and accessories, not about me! By the time I’m done explaining this, I definitely feel more than foolish.
So what’s the deal with the purse? At the purse forum we are a bit bag-crazed. Not only do we usually already own the bags, we just like to see it on other people…in different lighting, at various occasions…in action. I can’t explain it to people who don’t have a purse addiction. Let’s just say it’s as gripping as golf, video games, or suspense novels.
Yes, it feels terribly self-indulgent most of the time with the ODJ, but often the pictures help me edit the way I dress. I actually spend very little time in front of the mirror, so it’s a way for me to “objectively” criticize my own interpretation of fashion when I see these photos of myself. It’s like looking at someone else wearing things that I own.
Anyway, when in Namur, Belgium, I’m visiting very dear friends who forgive me for my craziness and indulge me in the photos you see today. They know that the ethnologist in me likes to document human behavior. What better way to understand behavior than to follow how fashion comes…
and goes…
*Both photos here courtesy of Lyndsey Chong. I blame her and all other enablers who feed my insatiable appetite for Chanel.
I belong to an online community that gabs about designer handbags. More specifically, I hang out in the forum where we discuss ad nauseum all things CHANEL. Now I may already have my fair share of Chanel goodies in my closet and have challenged myself to a total shopping ban in ‘09 (well, before you congratulate me on my restraint, the ban is in anticipation of an exotic Birkin somewhere in the near future) (can’t wait till I go orange, but I digress…), I still love looking at the pictures posted by other members of the forum. Pictures of new bags as they are released. Pictures of old bags from beloved, past collections. Pictures of shoes, RTW, accessories. If it’s Chanel, I have to look. Yes, it’s worse than a train wreck. I rationalize the time spent at this forum as research. No fashionista can do too little research! And truth be told, it’s eye candy that stimulates my brain while I’m sleepwalking through conference calls in my day gig. Did I just say that out loud?
What spurs me to write about the above bag, however, is the fact that it stopped me dead in my tracks as soon as I saw its photograph. And I usually pass on all things girly girl. But the color is delicious, especially on that buttery lambskin. The limited edition Valentine charms on the classic chain are just trop adorables! Go with me on this: I see myself in a voluminous, pale blue linen sundress, a pair of camellia sandals on my feet, and a silk scarf around my neck. I’m having a good hair day as I sit on the back of a vespa (cue the wind machine), zipping through Ibiza on my way to meet Uncle Karl for a late lunch. You can see this sweet little purse dangling on my shoulder, can’t you? Ok, first of all, I know I need to stop talking about Karl Lagerfeld like I’m some kind of a stalker. Like I know him or something. This is already his third mention in my two-months-old blog, but it’s impossible to talk about Chanel without referencing the man responsible for turning this couture house into an 800-pound gorilla that toys with our affection, even in these economic times. And second of all, I need to stop with these scenarios that run through my head every time a bag catches my fancy. You’ve seen my travel pictures. Is it really realistic that I’d bring such a high maintenance bag on one of my many adventures?
OK, so where was I? Right, we were in Ibiza on a sunny day. The problem with this whole fantasy sequence is that I see my own face and the voice in my head gasps; it’s asking me if the bag is age appropriate! Since when did I become the age police? Sure, fashion police is fine, but age police? I rewind the tape in my mind and look again. And yep, I’m sure I’d look pretty ridiculous carrying a bag that’s more suitable for someone half my age. Does fashion have an expiration date? Let me rephrase that: do I have an expiration date when it comes to what I should not wear? Aging is not my strong suit, and I feel faint.
Living in LA is a lot like living in a trompe-l’oeil. You will often see a scantily-clad, hot body with bleached hair, but as soon as she turns around you may see an overly Botoxed sixtysomething living in denial of the reflection in her mirror. If I’m glib in writing that, it’s because I, too, can fall just as easily into that sand trap. We are youth obsessed in this town, and if we pretend not to see the inevitable signs of aging, we can be 19 forever. In our own minds anyway. But am I being anti-feminist if I don’t cheer her on to fight society and dress as she pleases? Do I cringe in equal amounts if I see a man dressing much too young for his age? Though I’m not sure what qualifies as dressing overly youthful for men…are we talking about skinny jeans here? But isn’t fashion about dressing as one pleases? It’s one of the few pleasures left in life that won’t cause cancer…right?
I always shudder when I see the editorials in fashion magazines that recommend what’s appropriate to wear in your twenties, thirties, forties, etc. I just have a problem with age setting a limit on fashion because for some of us, by the time we can afford designer garb, we are already outside of those demographics. And setting an expiration date on some looks smacks too much of censorship. I want to say fashion should empower us; we should apply only one rule in fashion: live and let live. But in spite of my love for the freedom of expression, I think sometimes it’s OK for me to listen to the voice inside my head to assess the damage from Mother Nature and cut my losses. And dress appropriately. So as much as I’d love to collect this lovely bag, it’s past my expiration date.
Having said all that, let’s look closely at the charms, shall we?
Do you see the one that says Bonne Chance (“good luck”)? As in good luck finding this bag. Good luck trying to baby a light colored lambskin bag. Good luck trying to un-snag the charms from your clothes. Good luck making up a million more excuses to not love this bag. Good luck getting this bag out of my head. Sigh.
Tags: Birkin, Chanel, expiration date, Fashion, Karl Lagerfeld, Valentine
