woman child

Every so often Jezebel posts an article about how women who wear pink and glitter and mary-jane shoes trying to be children. Maybe you've seen thisarticle in the past couple days? Sound familiar? Oh, yeah, because this. Yawn.



cardigan: gap outlet
skirt: thrifted
top: thrifted
tights: hue
flats: old navy
cameo pin: thrifted


The attitudes expressed in these articles really stick in my craw for a number of reasons. Firstly there's the whole "damned if you do, damned if you don't" mentality. Wanna get married and have kids in your early twenties? No! Not okay! Wanna spend your twenties having fun and only being responsible for yourself? Also... not... okay? Is there a sweet spot somewhere in the mid-late twenties where it's okay to start a family? Why is this all about when someone starts a family? Why is getting married and having kids always held up as the Last Milestone of Maturity? What's so great about maturity anyway? Perhaps the author of This One Article has all the answers!


And I am tired as HELL over the whole thing about how wearing peter-pan collars or anything vaguely school uniform-esque means I'm some fragile little girl trapped in my childhood. If I wanted to be a little girl again, I'd quit my job and move in with my parents and go to bed at 8 o'clock every night with a big glass of milk. Believe it or not (even though I might be wearing knee socks) I really LIKE being an adult. There are a number of reasons why but one stands out above the others: I am taken seriously now. It's true! One of the biggest criticisms about this so-called infantilization of women is that we're not letting ourselves be taken seriously, and in my experience that is straight-up Not True. (Rebecca wrote something similar, better than I ever could.) So what's the problem?

a deal with god

polka dot top: joe fresh
black pleated skirt: thrifted
tote bag: fieldguided
flats: old navy
rose pin: thrifted
tassel necklace: thrifted
belt: thrifted
After the Olympics I couldn't get Running up that Hill out of my head, so I finally snatched up this tote I've had my eyes on for years. It's odd how carrying Kate Bush lyrics around with me all day immediately makes me feel refined and poetic, things I am... not.


I've been trying out the Gibson tuck with my short hair lately and I'm pleased with the results. Usually when I attempt updos they turn out looking like a total rats nest, even the ones that are supposed to look messy.


I'm coming up on my first anniversary of posting outfits on this blog, which I suppose makes me a fashion blogger of almost a year. Honestly, the only regret I have is not starting one sooner. I feel like my sense of style has been pushed and pulled into place, my self-esteem is doing pretty great (taking photos of yourself all the time helps), I get a lot of photography practice, and I'm a part of a community filled with smart, wonderful women. I feel warm and fuzzy just thinking about 'em! I can understand why some bloggers go through "why am I doing this?" blogging crises, but I am gonna go on record to say that I friggin LOVE blogging.

it's all mine

cardigan: old navy
top: thrifted
skirt: thrifted
belt: thrifted
bag: thrifted dooney & bourke
shoes: aldo (circa 2008)
socks: joe fresh


The posts on IFB typically bother me, but I still go back check it every so often when I'm bored. At first I was really happy to read the headline - MAN-FLUENCE: A SINGLE GIRL’S GUIDE TO BLOGGING. So many fashion bloggers have boyfriends who take and edit their photos, code their blog, deal with the business side of things... I don't think this is WRONG by any means but it can be a little alienating to single girls, girls who aren't straight, girls who want to be single, girls who don't want their significant others to be involved with their blog (sup), and so on. So I thought, how NICE it is to have an article telling you that, hey, you can do it! You don't need a boyfriend with a fancy camera to take your blog photos! I was expecting something really empowering, you know?

Instead it's a post about writing to impress some imaginary dingus so that they'll want to bang you. Oh, cool!!

OK I get what the article is trying to say. That if you want your blog to succeed you need to make sure it's a confident and accurate representation of yourself. I get it! But what's with the weird heteronormative analogy they're using here to make you understand that? Proofread your entries and "be funny," just in case Mr. Right is watching. Bleh.

Keeping this blog as a means to impress a guy is the TOTAL OPPOSITE of what I'm doing here. The community that exists around style blogging is a cool womens safe-space to me. We're talking about style and fashion as it relates to ourselves, without taking male gaze into consideration. I'd rather keep that kind of attitude in Cosmo where it can go fester and die, thanks.

closet purge

The last time I did a clearout of my wardrobe was in January. I ended up with a big garbage bag and never donated it out of laziness. Today, I sucked it up and sorted through everything. EVERYTHING:



in this photo is every piece of clothing I own. Well, except for what I was wearing at the time and a small pile of stragglers left at my boyfriend's house. The closet and dresser were packed pretty full, the plastic bag contains all that stuff I said I was gonna donate in January, and the rest is pure dirty laundry. Oh and the white thing hanging out of the laundry basket is the handle to my Dust Buster, I thought that was a good place for it for some reason???

So fueled by my Ice Capp (also pictured above) I went through everything, starting with the dresser. I sorted things with these criteria in mind:

Things I wear often, that I like, that fit me: Keep pile
Things that are unique, things I loved that don't fit me anymore: Sell pile
Things I just wanted out of my house as soon as possible: Donate pile
Things missing buttons or shoes that need resoling: Mend pile
Things full of stains and holes beyond repair: Straight to the waste bin



So this is my dresser after sorting through everything, drawer by drawer. I also organized it slightly: Top drawer is for underwear and such, second is for pants and shorts (and some t-shirts), third is t-shirts, fourth is sweaters.



Lately when I do laundry I've found myself running out of hangers to put things on. When I went through everything in my closet, I was left with ALL OF THESE!



This is three huge garbage bags filled with clothes and shoes to donate. Instead of letting them sit around my room until I could con someone with a car into driving me to Value Village, I sucked it up and called a cab. These bags are gone now. Gone! seeya later, nice knowing ya.



My mending pile is on the chair, and the stuff on the bed is laundry I need to do. SO MUCH LAUNDRY.



My closet now. I also sorted through a huge basket of scarves I had on the shelf in here. I never wore ANY of them because they were up there out of sight. Now I have the ones I like tied on that bar where I can easily see them. I keep my belts on that bar as well. Note that I've also found a better home for my Dust Buster, HA.



And now I'm left with this: My sell pile. Local swap groups are full of flaky people and Canada Post is so overpriced that I don't know if selling online will be viable. Since the weather is so nice, I'm thinking a yard sale would be a good idea. Any Charlottetown ladies want to have one?

This whole process didn't take as long as I thought it would: about 2.5 hours, snack breaks included. Maybe it's because most of my clothes are from thrift stores (cheap), but I didn't find it hard to get rid of anything either. I also rediscovered lots of things I'd forgotten I owned, and I found my headphones which have been missing for MONTHS.

If you've been thinking of doing some closet-related spring cleaning, DO IT. It's easy! It doesn't take very long! It makes you feel real good afterwards!

she comes in colours

Yesterday I woke up and saw a yard sale happening across the street. I got up, got dressed and went to check it out. I saw this photo floral skirt poking out from a bin and immediately handed over the change at the bottom of my purse for it. Never mind that it was too big for me, and a maxi skirt, and went completely against the idea I had in my head lately of what I want my style to be. I was thinking I should move to more "classic" pieces and maybe grow up a bit and stop being so weird. But I couldn't shake my gut reaction that said "I need that thing" when I saw this print.

Isn't that what I should go for when I'm getting dressed? My gut reaction to things? Why do I need to "grow up" with regards to my style and what does that even MEAN? I'm only 23, I have a job that gives me the same amount of money every two weeks and aside from paying my rent and putting a little away in savings I have no real responsibilities! What's grown up about that? Why not have fun and spend my money on weird things now, when I have the chance? I may still be young but I'm old enough to have learned not to give a fuck if someone gets judgy over me wearing a giant 70s maxi skirt.

Unfortunately this revelation came AFTER I spend 100 bucks at the Gap outlet. KIDDING, kinda. I still like the things I got, as grown up and neutral as they are.



It's probably overdone and cliche to say that the best way out of a style rut is to shake things up and try wearing something out of your comfort zone. But it's true! I haven't worn flared jeans since high school and even months ago I wouldn't have dreamed about getting another pair. But I gave it a try and found that I really like 'em. Same with the maxi skirt. Last night I safety-pinned the waistband to fit me and wore it with a denim jacket and sandals. I felt like a tall friggin goddess. See: this crappy iPhone pic



So maybe my style rut is over. I'm glad! I'm really excited for this summer and I want my clothing choices to reflect all the weird fun I'm gonna have.

To end off this abnormally long and disjointed post I wanna share this lil thing Arabelle ( http://catladysoul.tumblr.com/ ) wrote on her tumblr which resonated with me.

I want ridiculousness in fashion. I want ugly. I want destruction, I want imperfection, flaws, ripped seams, extra armholes, mutated glory that when people walk by me they whisper that they just don’t get it. I want to confuse you. I don’t want timelessness. I want everything, right here, right now, no regard for looking regal or rich or calm and collected. Why do I have to be classy anyway? Why do I need to impress you? When I slip on something I love I’m not doing it for you, I am doing it to feel good about myself, I am doing it to be transported into a place in my mind where I am safe and powerful and the cracks in my existence are filled with gold and diamonds and chocolate and goodness. I want to be able to change what I’m wearing mid walk — flip my jacket inside out, upside down, endless options, I want to tear apart what I’m wearing and what I represent and build back up again. I want you to have to think about what I represent, the space I take up. I want you running scared because you don’t understand and I don’t want you to. Every fucking seam of my jacket represents something you can’t have because I don’t want you to. This is mine. All mine. You can’t have it.