There's no point to my life...

...because I'll never be as cool as Alison Mosshart.

 Lady Lazarus
 
  I have done it again.
  One year in every ten
  I manage it----
 
  A sort of walking miracle, my skin
  Bright as a Nazi lampshade,
  My right foot
 
  A paperweight,
  My face a featureless, fine
  Jew linen.
 
  Peel off the napkin
  0 my enemy.
  Do I terrify?----
 
  The nose, the eye pits, the full set of teeth?
  The sour breath
  Will vanish in a day.
 
  Soon, soon the flesh
  The grave cave ate will be
  At home on me
 
  And I a smiling woman.
  I am only thirty.
  And like the cat I have nine times to die.
 
  This is Number Three.
  What a trash
  To annihilate each decade.
 
  What a million filaments.
  The peanut-crunching crowd
  Shoves in to see
 
  Them unwrap me hand and foot
  The big strip tease.
  Gentlemen, ladies
 
  These are my hands
  My knees.
  I may be skin and bone,
 
  Nevertheless, I am the same, identical woman.
  The first time it happened I was ten.
  It was an accident.
 
  The second time I meant
  To last it out and not come back at all.
  I rocked shut
 
  As a seashell.
  They had to call and call
  And pick the worms off me like sticky pearls.
 
  Dying
  Is an art, like everything else,
  I do it exceptionally well.
 
  I do it so it feels like hell.
  I do it so it feels real.
  I guess you could say I've a call.
 
  It's easy enough to do it in a cell.
  It's easy enough to do it and stay put.
  It's the theatrical
 
  Comeback in broad day
  To the same place, the same face, the same brute
  Amused shout:
 
  'A miracle!'
  That knocks me out.
  There is a charge
 
  For the eyeing of my scars, there is a charge
  For the hearing of my heart----
  It really goes.
 
  And there is a charge, a very large charge
  For a word or a touch
  Or a bit of blood
 
  Or a piece of my hair or my clothes.
  So, so, Herr Doktor.
  So, Herr Enemy.
 
  I am your opus,
  I am your valuable,
  The pure gold baby
 
  That melts to a shriek.
  I turn and burn.
  Do not think I underestimate your great concern.
 
  Ash, ash ---
  You poke and stir.
  Flesh, bone, there is nothing there----
 
  A cake of soap,
  A wedding ring,
  A gold filling.
 
  Herr God, Herr Lucifer
  Beware
  Beware.
 
  Out of the ash
  I rise with my red hair
  And I eat men like air.

What I Wish I Was

A bit self indulgent perhaps, but it's nice to not have to think about myself for a while.

I'm Your Third Man, Girl.

The momentum I had for this thing has slowly died. I'm a little too self-conscious for this type of thing...I need to focus on doing things for my benefit, not solely to please/impress some random person surfing the internet.
This semester has been mostly shitty. I'm not doing as well as I could in my classes, I had a huge falling-out with two people I considered to be mentors, my fellowship is disappointing, and I'm quickly falling out of love with most of my extracurriculars.
On the flip side, I'm mostly healthy (swine flu has made me a bit of a hypochondriac), Admissions just told me I'm the best Fall Open House speaker SU has ever had, I'm going to France in the Spring, my mom is healthy and happy, and I have the most wonderful boy.
I'm trying to maintain a level head and focus on the good. Which is hard, because I still love that comfort found in being sad. Well, love is a bit of a misnomer...I think it's more of a familiar warmth. I'm trying to take things as they come, and take my feelings and well-being into consideration first, which is something I usually never do. I could have a huge gaping wound in my stomach, but if I also had a paper to write, the wound would have to take a backseat. That's only slightly fucked up, right? My instinct to punish myself is finally starting to wear off, which is relieving. I think that since I'm so well-suited to being in a relationship that once that situation is taken care of, everything else kind of just falls in place. And my oh my is this one special. :)

Dumb.

I keep having these moments of off-and-on sadness.
I just feel so hopelessly blue for no reason at all.

I think I'd trade anything in my life to be pretty. Isn't that sad?
I have such strongly held feminist ideals, but the fact that I don't look like the girls I see in magazines makes me want to crawl into a ball and die.

Nothing I do is good enough for myself.
I don't know if I'll ever be the person I want to be.

I need to do homework.

Shit Talker.

I love autumn.

Wish List Wednesday

Christian Louboutin.
The label is synonymous with classic style, beautiful shoes, and of course, the signature red sole. I'm about 96.8% sure I would sell my soul to the devil for a pair. And hopefully someday when I'm no longer making $8.58 an hour, I'll be able to call a pair my own. And by that I mean I will get them surgically attached to my feet.

Shop Your Closet

I firmly believe that one need not be a millionaire/trend whore in order to possess great style. It's all about wearing things that you feel great in, and more importantly wearing things that you look good in. I am an ardent feminist, which makes my love of fashion difficult; the aesthetics are wonderful, but the industry perpetuates eating disorders and severely distorted body images. Instead of trying to fit into the size 00 jeans, try on the size that compliments your body type. A lower number on the tag inside your jeans does not make you a better person.

That being said, I think the most fashionable thing one can do is update normal looks found in one's closet.
I bought this floral dress on sale to wear to work at Fallingwater. I have to dress modestly at FW, so the dress can be a bit matronly.
I wanted to fierce it up. So I added a leather motorcycle jacket (a must-have for this fall), my roommate's fingerless gloves (she bought them at Hot Topic for small dollars), a studded belt a la Carrie Bradshaw, and a pair of gladiator heels (Dior knock-offs!).


My innocent little sundress instantly turns into a statement! All of the additions were less than $40, which is music to broke college student ears. Mixing genres is always a great experiment for autumn, since layering adds depth to an outfit, as well as warmth. Something as simple as adding a flower brooch to a menswear jacket can achieve this same result.

And if you feel like you can't pull off a strong look, remember the most important rule of fashion (and one that NEVER goes out of style):
CONFIDENCE!

Or at least fake it! :)

Fashion-spiration

I want to start some regular weekly features in my blog, one of them being posts about people who I consider to be influential style icons.
This week is the original It Girl herself, Edie Sedgwick.



She was the darling of the '60's counter-culture, muse to Andy Warhol, lover of Bob Dylan, and perhaps one of the most influential style icons of the 20th century. Known for her pixie peroxide 'do, kohl-heavy lids, and the ubiquitous black tights, Edie represents minimalist style. She would pair a black leotard and tights with a fabulous floor-length fur and look immaculate. Her look was youthful, yet elegant. Fluid, yet signature. It was easy, fun, and just a touch taboo, just like the generation she was representing. I credit her with my love of chandelier earrings, and I wish I could pull off that kind of dark eye make-up. Her life was art, music, and flitting about Manhattan with the movers and shakers of the time.
Edie's life had a much darker side to it, though. She was a poor little rich girl, blowing her money on clothes and drugs. She battled eating disorders her entire life, and lost herself in multiple unstable relationships. After marrying in her late twenties, Edie took a change of pace and quit her drug and alcohol habits, only to die in her sleep at the young age of 28.

Here's a great video that shows the evolution of Edie's timeless style.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZVRmt0J6JNg

She's Only Just Gone

I feel shitty today, and instead of starting on the intimidating pile of work on my desk, I'm going to update my blog.
So productive.

I think this blog is going to be my outlet for whatever, but mostly fashion things. I figured a nice way to get started would be listing the things that inspire me, A-Z.

A-architecture
B-black anything. my roommate calls me 'theater major' when i leave the house in all-black.
C-chanel. my love.
D-draping
E-eclectic motifs
F-french style
G-guitars
H-hats (although I can't wear any. stupid hair)
I-It Girls
J-jazz
K-knowledge
L-lipstick
M-moleskines
N-nighttime
O-orchids
P-philadelphia's historical landmarks
Q-quirks and imperfections
R-romance
S-searl, cody
T-turntables
U-usefulness
V-violets
W-waterfronts
X-x-rays of non-human things
Y-youth
Z-zounds, and other antiquated expressions