As you’ll recall, I won a really kickass outfit in a drawing at Stella Mae.

Here’s the model’s take on it, and here’s mine.

contest II

The dress fits me closer than it does the model. I prefer that: it frees me up to add less structured accessories. A light wrap or shawl would look quite nice.

contest IV

I decided to play up the silver accents. I’m really pleased with how well the belt matches; it looks like it might have come with the dress.

I also pulled out a grey hat I used to wear far more religiously before I got my red one. It’s quite appropriate here, I think. It complements the outfit’s vintage structure.

contest III

This dress really hits the middle ground between casual and formal. With this hat, and a slouchy cardigan, I could theoretically wear it to class. If I fixed my hair and maybe put on some eyeliner, it’d be cotillion-worthy.

contest V

contest VI

contest VII

I love the back detail. Its location is convenient, too: I can still wear a bra!

contest VIII

contest IX

These shoes. These shoes. Now, I have very, very strict requirements for heels. I have some genetic bone defects – osteochondritis dissecans and pronated ankles, to be specific – and I can’t put my weight on the ball of my foot unless the heel is impeccably structured. In my almost two decades on this planet, I have found one pair of heels that fits this bill. As of today, I’ve found another. I’m an often unfortunately cheap person, and I resist buying individual items over $30. Maybe $45. These shoes retail for between $100 and $150, more than I would ever consider spending. But if their fit is any indication, you really do get what you pay for: I could walk downtown and up again in these heels with nary a blister.

i just keep getting tackier and tackier

The only parts of this outfit I paid money for are my pants and two of my rings, which cost me $9 total. Last spring I found this sweater in a box on the side of the road, and it’s one of my favorite possessions. Hat – hand-me-down from my cousin. Harley boots and lapis lazuli ring – hand-me-downs from my mother. Rubik’s cube necklace – free at Battery Street Jeans (it had been there so long they just let me have it. I guess I really am the tackiest person in Burlington). Scarf – Halloween gift from my godmother. Jacket – costume box!

Sweater, Skinny Jeans, Necklace, and Rings: Battery Street Jeans Hat: Handed down from cousin Boots: Handed down from Mom Jacket: Handed down from neighbor Scarf: Halloween gift from my godmother


I meant to post this yesterday, so you’ll be getting two posts today!

I enjoy mixing elements, and sometimes I get into the more androgynous elements thereof. By “androgynous”, I don’t mean pieces that could go either way – I mean mixing the hypermasculine with the hyperfeminine.

This look brought to you by the 1950s.

$4 corset from Battery Street Jeans. Blinged-out Rubik’s cube necklace – free!

All in all, I paid $5 for this outfit.

Corset, Jeans, Necklace, Rings, and Belt: Battery Street Jeans Jacket: Handed down from neighbor

pretending i live in an actual city

In the summer, I teach children’s theatre. While I was home on break, my neighbor announced on Facebook that she was giving away a massive box of children’s costumes, and I bolted over there. Not only did I procure a preponderance of props for my young thespians, I found this jacket in the bottom of the box. Genuine leather. I sincerely hope she meant to give it away and won’t come asking for it back.

I couldn’t decide which scarf I preferred, so I’ve interspersed two different photosets. Comment and state your preference!

Two rings for $3 at Battery Street Jeans.

My mom wore stuff like this when she was pregnant with me. Yes, in the early ’90s. Somehow I’ve internalized it.

I really, really like slouchy materials with crisper ones. The metallic rings contrast the baggy sweater nicely. And the leather pulls it all together.

I bought jeggings. Secondhand jeggings, at that. Let’s face it, though: I was already wearing leggings as pants; this is the natural next step.


This scarf is admittedly slightly ratty, but it photographs really well.

I’m in love with these textures together.

It’s a pretty cool scarf.

Sweater, Skinny Jeans, and Rings: Battery Street Jeans Boots and Chinese Scarf: Handed down from Mom Hat: Handed down from cousin Orange Scarf: Plato’s Closet Jacket: Handed down from neighbor


You get some music today! Because most of this outfit is from Battery Street Jeans, I’ll post songs I first heard there. They spin some really excellent music.

just try me, elements

Burlington got its first snow today, and it looks like the next few days will follow suit. I’m seizing the opportunity to publish a series of outerwear posts. You think my autumn jackets are outlandish? They’ve got nothing on my winter coat collection.

I love outerwear because I can be wearing some boring old thing on the inside (today, for instance, it was jeans and doc martens and my blue-and-green striped sweater), but I can still look totally put together with the right coat and scarf.

I’ve posted this coat before, but this time I’m wearing it as I usually do, with the scarf and hat that look best with it.

I actually really like the pigtail thing. My hair is too short for a proper bun or braid (one thing I do miss about long hair: the lovely chopstick-enhanced buns I used to make), and pigtails keep it out of my face. Particularly useful when the wind’s whipping about and strands of my hair get stuck in my lipstick.

My mother gave me this lapis lazuli ring over break. She originally got it from her Wiccan friend. Now it’s found its way to another witch!

I’m into rings lately. I bought a bunch of cheap ones at Battery Street Jeans today, and I’ll be incorporating them into future outfits.

You are jealous. You know it.

I have very small hands. Child-sized, technically. And I can therefore fit into children’s mittens.

They’re hungry…

…and now they’ve decided my flesh makes a suitable repast. Send hel


(I survived.) Coat: Battery Street Jeans Hat: Handed down from cousin Scarf: Christmas 2010 Gloves: Mall kiosk

i scratched them myself

I just plain like creating things. Often the things in question are outfits. But sometimes, when I’m at my parents’ house and have a decent stove and lots of resources, they are homemade ravioli.

Ravioli are one of my favorite things to eat. I made my own once last summer, but I used rice flour, which didn’t cohere so well. Today I used plain old semolina. And this recipe, except I substituted mozzarella for some of the ricotta. I like the substitution. It makes them (the one I tested, anyway) appealingly springy and chewy.

Cooking is in my blood. My mom’s a baker and pastry chef; my dad’s an experimental gourmet who reads all the food magazines. By the time I’m their age, I’ll probably be as fanatical as they are.

Marinara’s on the stove. I’m about to go watch Martha Marcy May Marlene.

(Yes, the clock is fast. I don’t have time-traveling powers.)

city girl’s last stand

It’s Thanksgiving break, and I’m curled up in the recliner in my parents’ living room, having crawled sleepily back to the hamlet (pop. 1800) where I spent sixteen years of my life. My cell phone barely works out here. My bedroom window looks out on ten acres of trees. In a few days I’ll go stir-crazy, but now I’m glad to be lounging here in yoga pants and a hideous sweater, not paying a dime for food.

I might be showing my hillbilly roots at the moment, but my fashion sense didn’t go down without a fight. I dressed up for Friday’s journey home.

I’ve owned this shirt for years. It’s stretchy enough that it’s always fit. Recently I modified the rather high neckline to flatter me better.

I love this design. It’s essentially a medieval/Renaissance tapestry. It makes me hungry to sing arias. (I used to do that. I was classically trained in high school, and I was good. I miss it.)

This outfit is so wonderfully piratical. The shirt, faded and slightly shredded but nonetheless ornate, could easily have been pilfered from a noblewoman. The skirt, which you’ve seen before, has volume worthy of a pirate wench. The boots, skull, and headwrap speak for themselves.

The aged roughness of the overcoat augments the high-seas feel.

I love my hair wrapped like this. Messy done right, I think.

Blouse: Plato’s Closet Belt and Necklace: Battery Street Jeans Skirt: Paizlee’s (now-defunct boutique in Essex) Coat and Head Scarf: Handed down from Mom


Edit 11/19: Inspired by a Facebook comment, I made a SoundCloud account to share some of my favorite arias. Hurr ya go.


A commenter on my last post suggested the following:

[Write about] [h]ow the outfits relate to you! I love your little blurbs about why you like specific articles or what they say about you, last weeks was especially great.

So today I’m going vintage. Not in my usual manner, but true vintage: these are all pictures of how I used to look. I don’t find any of them particularly embarrassing, but I can definitely see what I’d do differently now. (I’m not putting them in any kind of order, just to mess with y’all. And I’m not cropping or toying with the light, because I like ’em exactly as they are.)

High-school graduation. I insisted on wearing ripped tights and leather boots with my sundress, which is exactly what I’d do now, so props to past me. What floors me is the hair. I had a truly unfortunate combination of dyes going on in late high school/early college. You’ll see it in greater detail soon. Monochromatic is the way to go.

I still own this dress, and I like it a lot, but it doesn’t lend itself well to many situations. I’ll try to blog it at some point. (The black design on the skirt is flowers.)

Aaaaand here we go. Look at that. Somehow I thought alternating stripes of red and platinum,layered atop my natural brown, was a good look. This is from my first or second week of college, vamping on the couch in the dorm lobby while waiting to leave for some party. (My mom commented on the Facebook picture: “Did you lose your shirt in a card game?” At that point in my life, I owned a sparkly bra, and it was my pride and joy. [I still own it, but it barely fits. Yay for D cups, boo for having to give up sparkly things.])

I saw sense shortly after the above picture was taken, and about a month into my freshman year, my hair looked like this. I was really into half-pictures at the time, so there aren’t any better ones. If I weren’t so into monochrome right now, I actually wouldn’t hesitate to do this again. I liked the marbling.

Christmas break, senior year of high school. A girlfriend and I were having a dress-up day. This is notable because MY NATURAL HAIR. Even though I still think of myself as a brunette, to see actual evidence of it gives me cognitive dissonance. My hair was long and brown for ~17 years of my life. The length varied, but it was almost never above my shoulders (except for that brief unfortunate period in sixth grade. We don’t talk about that.).

What I find really funny about this picture is that I’m clearly wearing that outfit as a costume, even though that’s pretty much how I dress, completely unironically, now.

My senior picture. (I still own this shirt.) My quote was “the opposite of war isn’t peace, it’s creation“. You know that one girl in every high school (some schools have several) who’s a little too obsessed with Wicked and RENT? Yeah. I was that girl.

One of my Halloween costumes from senior year. I think I was supposed to be a Renaissance bard, but so many people had called me the Mad Hatter by the end of the day that I just gave up and adopted the title myself.

(I made that hideous mask on the left when I was about six. My mother insists on not only keeping it but displaying it.)

Summer before junior year of high school. I’m on my way to a medieval fair. I still own this dress; I blogged it once. This is noteworthy mostly because I’m still very good friends with both the people in this picture. The guy (Lisle) and I ended up matriculating at the same university, and I see him almost every day.
I have no idea what I’m doing with my hands in this picture.

My fifteenth birthday party. My kitchen was being renovated at the time. That dress again; I wore it exhaustively around ages 15 and 16. I’m still actively close with four of these people, and on decent terms with the rest. I had really fantastic friends in high school.

Almost 13, having successfully badgered my parents into taking me to Salem. I’ve previously mentioned my abiding love for all things supernatural. Salem was my wet dream when I was 13. Still is, frankly. I wouldn’t mind living there one day. (On my forehead is the admissions sticker from the museum.)

I have the beginnings of fashion sense here. Tank top and jeans isn’t the worst combination. That nautical-print sweatshirt tied around my waist was one of my favorite articles of clothing for a long time. My bag’s cute for a seventh-grader. But I still had a long way to go.

I said I wouldn’t edit anything? I lied. I don’t particularly feel like tracking down my high-school boyfriend and asking permission to post his photo on the internet. He was a senior when I was a junior, and I accompanied him to his senior prom. I did love that dress. It was my first major Old Gold purchase. It doesn’t really fit anymore, but I console myself with the knowledge that I have much better t&a now. I’d rather not have my skinny sixteen-year-old body forever anyway.

(In keeping with feminine tradition, I refused to let my boyfriend see my dress before prom. He called me two nights before: “At least tell me what color it is so I can get a corsage.” “It’s…a lot of colors.”)

End of junior year, actually only a week or two before prom. I’m slamming a poem. This was actually my first-ever Facebook profile picture. I still wear and love this dress, and I’m planning to blog it soon.

I remember this day very well. Early in the second semester of my senior year. I had bone surgery that winter, and this was the first day I could walk again. You can sort of make out the walking cast on my right calf. This is at the house of the friend with whom I’d had the aforementioned dress-up day.

I really, really like this picture. I don’t think I even knew it was being taken, and I was feeling achy and tired and so very sick of my misshapen bones. Something about the light, though, or my pose, or my face – it’s not unthinkable that I would become a model.