Pegged Pants: Trendy, Also Hideous.

[thanks but no thanks, the sartorialist]

For as long as I can remember, every fashion magazine and guide to style I've ever read has admonished, "Avoid pleated pants at all costs!" So why--why, fashion gods, why?--are big, baggy, pleated, pegged pants showing up everywhere this spring? Yup, they've been on runways and ALLLL over the style files in respected fashion mags and even my beloved and ever-tasteful Sartorialist. Yet another reason for my hatred of Spring '08 to continue! Pegged pants are baggy all over, except for at the waist (high and fitted, necessitating tons of horrid pleats to achieve the bagginess below) and ankles (either tailored or rolled up to the upper ankle). Basically, they break every single fashion rule about pants. High waists make people look hippy. Pleats make one look, um, fat. A baggy hip area plus tapered legs equal a monstrous pear-shape effect. Cropping the length to above the ankle yet below the knee is incredibly unflattering, as it cuts off the line of the leg, destroying a lean silhouette and focusing the eyes on the large mass of fabric that finds its widest, bunchiest point at the hips. Pegged pants commit all four sins, and probably many more that I'd discover if I actually dared to try on a pair. Not a chance; I prefer my pants to be the same length of my legs, the same size around as my actual hips, and the same general shape of my legs, without bizarre pleats-induced distortion, THANKYOUVERYMUCH. If I wanted to look like a thunder-thighed clown, I'd up my Snickers intake and apply to Ringling Bros.

[Check out the original 80s version on the left! Like, gag me with a spoon. The ones to the right, available at Urban Outfitters, are only slightly better. Just because they're not really pegged doesn't mean they avoid the massive pleat sins.]

Why are runways and style spotlights subjecting us to pegged pants, then? Is there some element of subversion in all this rule-breaking that others are finding delightful? Blogger Bruce Watson is excited about their comeback, and claims that when they were stylish in the 80s, "I always thought that pegged pants were incredibly cool, indicative of a tortured (yet creative) soul, and a transcendentally stylish fashion statement." Right. Are we seriously now stooping to the new low of thinking that we should continue to look to the 80s--quite possibly the worst decade of American fashion ever (minus a few acceptable things, like, uh, Keds and Members Only jackets)--for more and more fashion inspirations? God, we're really scraping the bottom of the barrel here. I thought that the primary achievement of the past 25 years was discovering the joys of flattering clothing, and the abandoning of clothes that basically serve to make you look deformed (hello, shoulder pads and giant polyester sweatshirts). Apparently, we're backsliding. Let's all repeat: just because something was cool in the past doesn't mean it's a good idea. For example: Edwardian corsets, pointy cotton 1950s bras, polyester 70s leisure suits. I rest my case. Let's just pray that pegged baggies don't replace skinny jeans as the 80s trend du jour. Though, to be fair, that would allow for a lot more Snickers....

Fab Fashion Films & Videos

With L.A.'s 90-degree heat today, all I want to do is sit back and watch marvelous fashiony film features that don't require any actual movement on my part. These are some great, varied style-related videos I've stumbled upon recently:

[the secret world of haute couture, via youtube]

This series about the rarified world of haute couture, "The Secret World of Haute Couture," is terrifically fascinating. Haute couture is custom-made fashion--not just runway looks that people bought for thousands of dollars at Neiman Marcus, but designer looks that are actually custom-fitted and sewn for their incredibly deep-pocketed customers. Obviously, this is a tiny group of women (interesting that men's suits are much more often custom-made, and it seems less of a big deal). We hear at the beginning of the video that "the haute couture is like a secret club, and many of the members don't want to let you in." It is an entirely different world of fashion from the one most of us inhabit, yet we all know about it and it is sort of the driving fantasy behind much of the fashion industry. I am SO FASCINATED to finish watching this documentary and get a peek into the very secret world of women who spend 5 to 6 figures on custom designer pieces and talk about things like their "voyage into haute couture." My, my, my. Watch! Discuss!

A Peek Into YSL....

I recently was talking about fashion-designer documentaries on Cathy Horyn's NYT On The Runway blog (which is always, always good food for thought), and afterward I had to add "Yves Saint-Laurent: 5 avenue Marceau 75116 Paris" to my Netflix queue. Now that I've watched the first half at home (apparently, once you lie down on the sofa to "get more comfy" while you watch TV, all subsequent watching is replaced by sleeping), I'm happy to report that not all design processes are like the big factory-like atmosphere in the design studio where I've been working. This film, shot understatedly by author David Teboul (who did a book of the same title) depicts the behind-the-scenes process of Yves Saint Laurent creating his Spring 2002 collection in his Paris studio. He determines the direction of the collection, and the feeling of it--the shapes, the silhouettes, the style--and his posse of serene, middle-aged-to-elderly ladies go off and design brilliant pieces to correspond with his vision. They then show him their prototypes, and together they edit, often stopping to tell each other just how marvelous or exquisite or perfect the item in question is (in very sexy French, of course). It's amazing how personal and intimate this design process is, and it really does restore a bit of my faith in the fashion industry and reassure me that it's not just a giant hype machine, after all. The one low note for me was the excruciatingly thin house model that YSL was using to try the garments on. I could count the ribs from her neck to her waist, and I could barely look at the gorgeous clothes she was strutting around in because looking at her was causing me physical pain. Ay yi yi. Eat a baguette, honey. Anyway, it's lovely to see YSL himself and observe his love for fashion and beauty and his appreciation for the beautiful work in his studio. I'm looking forward to seeing the last half of the film where things get closer to the deadline and we see the runway collection taking shape.

Last but not least, here's a fun WhoWhatWearDaily video tutorial on "How To Wear Shorts!" You thought you knew, huh? Step in, pull 'em up, remember to zip? Oh, BORING. Clearly, as fashion folk, we must make it way more difficult and spend all kinds of time puzzling over the BEST way to wear shorts in different situations. Here, two charming ladies with lots of makeup on and nervous smiles tell us how to look posh in shorts, which generally veer dangerously far into dweeby territory. You know what, though: once you get over the nervous smiles and heinously expensive shorts they feature, the points they make are actually useful. Because, come on, it IS really hard to wear shorts without looking like you're going on a hike to Dweebsville, so we can use all the help we can get.

Speaking of the heat and how-to questions, here's my current quandary: what kind of shoes do you wear in the summertime? I love the idea of open shoes that keep you cool, but flip-flops are just too open for me. I feel like my feet are getting coated in grime every step I take, and they make your heels all callused if you wear them often. Is it time to finally give in to the gladiator sandal trend? If Style.com had its way, I'd be running to Barneys to fork over a mere $165 for these Givenchy Jelly Gladiators. (Now, what was it about designer brands being, erm, high quality? If these lacked a Givenchy logo, I doubt Payless could charge over $9.99. Or am I being a spoilsport and missing some essential postmodern commentary on the hype behind fashion that these shoes actually make? Know what--I don't really care. Jelly shoes make your feet stink anyway.). What's your fave solution?

VOGUE vs. Sugar Salon (VOGUE Goes Down!)

I learned something today: Vogue magazine does not always tell the truth. This may not shock you, but I promise it's shocking for those who un-ironically refer to it as The Bible. I learned this today while I was getting a haircut today from a guy named Tommy with arms full of tats and a thick New York accent. He may not have been stereotypically flaming, but he was definitely a talker. I learned about the Red Sox jersey in the Yankee Stadium scandal (yeah, I know, I'm behind the times); about Sally Hershberger in person (she walks around hair shows and "hits on little girls"); and also about the time the salon got a call from Vogue.

The salon, Sugar, is a pretty hip little place on Sunset, not far from my house. They do shows of local artists' work, they have reasonable prices and they carry the requisite organic/weirdly-named hair products. Recently, they were featured in Vogue as having the best blow-dry in the area. According to the indignant Tommy, they do no such thing. They like to do dry cuts, so exactly what would they be blowdrying? I had read that blurb, and never dreamed it wouldn't be the case....

He explained that someone from Vogue called up a bit ago, saying "So, we hear you're a fab under-the-radar salon in some weird part of L.A. that's not West Hollywood! How cute! We're going to feature you in the magazine. Aren't you thrilled?" When the Sugar guys said "Um, thanks, but if you write about us, we won't be under-the-radar anymore, ya know?," Vogue was speechless. But they pressed on, asking when they could come by and do a photoshoot. They wanted to bring in models--with their hair already done by someone else--and have them pose in the Sugar chairs with the stylists. Huh whaa? Sugar refused, and so Vogue went on its merry way. Then up comes their totally wrong article about the nonexistent blowdrys, along with a quote from a girl who used to work there "for like a WEEK, as a receptionist, and she was a shitty receptionist!" Good fact-checking, Vogue.

As a result, says Tommy, the salon is now getting calls from fancy Brentwood, Bel-Air and Beverly Hills ladies inquiring about their services (ladies who usually frequent Frederic Fekkai or wherever else charges at least 7 million dollars per visit). What's hilarious is how scared they are of venturing east of La Brea. Some have even said "Oh, no, I can't bring my car there," and hung up, after finding out Sugar is in Silverlake (a very nice neighborhood, thankyouverymuch). Whatever, they'd probably get lost if they came, driving around in a fruitless search for a valet. Two brave West Side callers heard the S-word, then told Tommy that "Oh, then it must be a cool place, because I know Beck is from there." Beck? That's what they know about the other side of their city? That Beck, who now lives in Malibu or something, was born way over there in the savage boonies? Hee hee!

In any case, I got a laugh, a great haircut and feel far better about myself than I did this morning (isn't that the way? Haircuts are magic.). Now maybe I'll go finish the new issue of Vogue.

Solid Gold Rags: Spotted On This Blog, Also At Legit Stores!

Hey, remember Perry Shimon, who did a Style Snapshot a while back and is co-head of Solid Gold Rags, the rad tee shirt company? (He's also a big hit on this site, where dozens of people a day clock on his Style Snapshot in search of photos of Freddie Mercury.) Well, he may be a newcomer to L.A., but homeboy is already making it big. I opened up my email today to find a big, splashy notice from Satine, featuring Solid Gold Rags as one of their featured designers, alongside Stella McCartney! To quote their gushing note, "Creatures of comfort and style have been blessed by the perfect tee." That's a pretty major endorsement, since Satine is considered to be somewhat of a tastemaker. And when I clicked over to the shop's site, a bunch of the SGR stuff is already sold out. Congrats! Way to go, dude. (And in case you were wondering, my fave is the one below. Serge Gainsbourg & Jane Birkin! LOVE.)

This $95 silkscreened SGR! tank is already sold out at Satine. No fair.

The Fashionista Diet

I remember starting fashion school and assuming that my classes would be full of stick figures munching on celery sticks, and being surprised--sort of relieved and aghast at the same time, really--to find that they generally subsisted entirely on things that came in snack-packs, soda cans and economy-size bags. But I figured that was just because most of them were kids who'd never lived on their own before and weren't used to surviving without Mommy's cooking. When I moved into my job at a fashion design behemoth, I figured I'd really be in for some Devil-Wears-Prada-style colleagues.

stick figures aren't into stick vegetables

Fat chance! Are most of my coworkers attractive, shapely and well-dressed? Uh, pretty much, yeah. Are they living off salads and competing over early-morning gym slots? Hardly. I've seen more McDonald's, In-N-Out and takeout Chinese than I have anything green or labeled "diet." Sure, the office mini-fridge is stuffed with people's little yogurts and string cheeses, but I never actually see people eating them. I don't know if The Devil Wears Prada made it up or if New York and Conde Nast is just a whole different scene from out here on the left coast...but man oh man, my fears of being guilty for occasionally eating carbs (a frequent occurrence at the posh shop where I used to work, and all the other girls ate solely tuna salad and kale from Whole Foods--yes, really) have been assuaged. I feel like it's sort of a behind-the-scenes secret, and I kind of love it.

In or Out? Mmm...both.

So, for all those who are looking for the miracle meal plan that keeps fashion designers so darn trim, try this time-tested routine:

1. Wake up. Spend too long picking out your clothes and run out of time for breakfast.
2. Hit the drive-thru on your way to work. Remember that your co-workers will be mad if you don't get them extra hash browns alongside your McMuffin.
3. Work at top speed once you've arrived at work. Walk up and down miles of corridors in calf-strengthening high heels.
4. When it nears 1pm, ask who's going to lunch. Join someone who's getting something mass-produced and preferably topped with melted cheese. Or fries. Maybe both. Unless it's Friday, special lunch day, when huge trays of fettucine alfredo or fried Thai noodles are carted in to the office to share.
5. As the afternoon wears on and your boss gets ever-shriller, dig into your emergency drawer with the giant-size bag of Fritos. Or chocolates.
6. Hope that someone's having a birthday party or a baby shower so that you can fill up on cupcakes, cinnamon buns and that fabulous pan dulce that the nice Mexican sewing ladies bring. Hello, free dinner! Oh, and don't forget your third Starbucks of the day.
7. Go home and watch Celebrity Fit Club. Gosh, those poor people. Is it really so hard to eat well?

Personal Shoppers: Not Just For Rich B*tches

When her closet is full of nada, she’s sick to death of the stores, and her head is too jumbled to know what she’d wear even if she could afford couture…what’s a girl to do? Suck it up and head to a pro. I’ve always kind of pooh-poohed Hollywood starlets with stylists, because I can’t imagine giving up the pleasure of shopping for myself. Hel-LO, don’t you want to Express Yourself, not have someone express yourself for you? But when you don’t know how you want to do all that expressing, I have to admit that getting an expert’s input can be a good idea. When I decided to book time with the "contemporary collections" stylist at Nordstrom at the Grove, I was a little worried that it would be a skeezy experience, but it ended up being, as Borat says, a Great Success! It was free, she was awesome, and I ended up with stuff I love.

The best part of personal shopping, fer shur, was arriving to find a swishy little showroom all decked out with stuff for me. My friend who recommended Elaine (the stylist) had e-mailed her with what I was looking for, my body type and price range, so she already had a whole selection of dresses, tops and trousers ready in my size. I sat on a plush chair while she gracefully pushed clothes around on the rack-lined walls and explained what could go with what, what hadn’t gone out on the floor yet, what would look nice on me…I don’t know what else she said, because I was staring in the huge mirror and petting the velvet arms of the chair. But she definitely respected what I’d told her—I was looking for more interesting things to wear for casual/day, and I wasn’t interesting in bankrupting myself—and I immediately loved some of the things she’d picked out. Trying on clothes in a big private room, with enough hooks to hang everything on (are you listening, H&M?), and then coming out to ask the opinion of someone who actually has good taste and isn’t just trying to sell as many pairs of Gap jeans as possible is actually pleasant. Maybe even FUN. It’s definitely about five bajillion times more pleasant than the normal awful sweaty cramped trying-on experience, which I absolutely hate and which usually leaves me cranky and hungry. Elaine was honest about what worked or didn’t work, which was nice because I never trust my own eyes and need lots of reassurance so I don’t end up with a nasty case of buyer’s remorse. It was so nice. Oh yeah, and the mirror wasn’t a fat mirror, either. Thank you, Nordstrom. (It’s funny, because I remember the mirrors at the Nordstrom Brass Plum section when I was in high school being the WORST fat mirrors on the planet. I always ended up walking out without buying anything because it was such a horrifying experience.)

[this is not a nordstrom fitting room. but it is a really good idea. thanks charleston.]

I ended up with such a score—the best of which was a jacket that was exactly, exactly the thing I’ve been hunting for months and had given up on ever finding. It’s a blazer with a deep V and a super-nipped-in waist, which is perfect because I’m tall and always think jackets end up really boxy on me. Elaine had it out for me at the start, and I never would’ve found it myself. I was worried she’d try to force things on me, or not get my taste, or.... But no, it was just YAYYY PERSONAL SHOPPING! I would totally, totally recommend it (where else can you do this, other than Nord’s? Most department stores?), and there’s no risk because it’s freeeeeee. Unless you, uh, have great success and buy things. But that was the goal, right?

XOXO, MATERIAL GIRL (gaaahhhh when does Gossip Girl start again? I thought it was supposed to on, like, the 5th! Jeez.)

[Full disclosure: I’m sitting on my sofa (okay, FULL disclosure: futon) watching “Real Housewives: New York City.” AMAZING. They’re so tacky and ridiculous. Perfect timing—the one lady and her husband who look alike and spend every second together are now shopping together because “we’re each other’s stylists.” She’s trying on some horrendously ugly, tight, $2,250 dress with a hypnotic swirly pattern that somehow pulls your eyes right to the crotchal area, and her husband thinks it looks amaaaazing. Goes to show you pricey doesn’t mean pretty. It looks like it costs about 1/100th of its real price. Barf me ouuuut.]

Things I Love Thursday

Things I Love Thursday.

A List.

[bougainvillea]

• Springtime weather in L.A.! It's been sunny and dry and hot here for the past few days, and while I know it's an early reminder that we have baking-hot summer ahead, I love sitting outside on my back porch looking at the riot of fuschia bougainvilleas above the railing, soaking up the sun and pretending sweaters don't exist. Aww, a monarch butterfly just flew over my head. All that's left is for a trio of chipmunks to pop up and start singing Disney songs.

[transitional floral, paris. from the sartorialist.]

• Spring clothes! As I girly-shrieked about yesterday, something in me demanded a closet makeover, and I think one of the culprits was the sunny weather demanding appropriate gear. I had a delicious time last night trying on things that an expert picked out for me, and I even came away with something that was not black, or long, or voluminous. WHOA.
• Citron green. It's a sort of not-green, not-yellow, not-chartruese, but all of the above, color that is oh-so-hot right now. I love it because it's a little shocking, but also harks back to the early 70s. It's a little futuristic when paired with dark cool colors, but also can go with soft neutrals to be almost nature-inspired. Plus, it looks good on me. Score.
• Things I've Bought That I Love. No, not I, but Mindy Kaling of The Office fame. She plays the hilariously shallow Kelly Kapoor (photo) and is actually one of the show's very brilliant writers. One time she came into the posh boutique where I used to work, and she was looking for shoes to go with a yellow dress, and she was very absorbed in whether to go for gold or white, and her voice REALLY SOUNDS like it does on the show, and I was secretly freaking out like a dumbstruck fangirl, and it was AWESOME. Oh yeah, and she has this fabulous blog called Thingsiboughtthatilove.com. She's really funny and I want to be her best friend.

TTFN, kids. xoxo!

So Many Clothes, So Little To Wear

[she wasn't kidding when she said she had nothing to wear]

Have you ever felt like your closet, no matter how full of clothes, contains absolutely nothing you want to wear? That there is not even one tiny thing even resembling something you'd want to wear on your precious, fashion-conscious body?

Well, in case you couldn't tell, that's exactly how I've been feeling. Now, let's put this into context: I have a nice closet with several racks (I designed it with those Elfa things and even installed the whole damn thing myself). It's about twice the size of my boyfriend's closet, and I have a bureau too. The closet and the bureau are both packed with clothes, all chosen carefully and lovingly over the years. I've done overhauls, I've raked through and donated the losers to charity, and I don't hold on to clothes that are totally obsolete or don't fit me. So why is it that every morning, I face the dismal sense that I don't own anything that's cool, appealing, and really "me?" Well, part of it is that I'm forgetful and then I end up discovering awesome things I've bought and haven't worn yet. But god, am I really that much of a clotheshorse and general brat that I can never be satisfied?

After chewing on this important question, I've realized the issue: I'm not growing anymore. In fact, I haven't grown in quite a few years. So all the clothes I've bought since reaching full size (doesn't that sound like a puppy, or a cactus or something?) have stayed with me unless they've become totally uncool or unwearable. But I myself, my id, my esprit, HAS GROWN, YOU GUYS. Thank god. So my taste in clothes has changed, and while I may still objectively like stuff I own from eons ago, it doesn't actually mean that I'd ever buy the same thing now. Like, while you may have a favorite book from forever ago, do you still keep reading it over and over? Maybe every once in a while, but you probably get new books most of the time. I still love my handmade vintage dresses, but now I want nipped-waist shirts and long trousers, too. The other source of my problem is that, after working with fashion stuff all day and seeing every trend over and over, the last thing I want to do is go shopping and look at more-of-same.

Fortunately, my brilliant friend Dieu had the obvious idea to get outside help. I'm too mired in my own closet to be able to step outside and figure out what will solve my outfit woes, and I whined to her, "It's so much easier to tell other people what they should wear! I want someone to tell ME!" She pointed out that that would be entirely possible. And so today I have an appointment at Nordstrom to go chat with Dieu's stylist there, who will probably be able to size me up in about two seconds, far better than I could ever do myself. Then she can pull out all kinds of fabulous suggestions that will totally blow my mind and inspire me to wear new shapes and colors. I'M SO EXCITED YOU GUYS, LIKE OMG. It's going to be like Clueless where Tai gets made over, except hopefully I won't emerge wearing patchwork overalls and chunky platforms. Fingers crossed! I'll return with a full report. Just hold your breath 'til then.

Doc Martens Redux: Welcome Back, 90s!

[Marc by Marc Jacobs on Style.com--yes, this is a guy, but the trend applies to girls too.]

News flash: Doc Martens are back, kids! I'm not making this up--here it is straight from the horse's mouth (a.k.a. a top fashion editor at T Magazine):

"We saw it in Europe at Jil Sander and Ferragamo, but seeing it at Marc by Marc Jacobs makes it official. The shoe of next season is the chunky-soled Doc Martens-inspired lace-up. It looked great worn here with slightly short pants in a very post-punk, new-wave way. There was a lot of conspicuous ankle flashing. Now, with my spindle shanks, I don’t think I’m going try these at home, but they sure will look cool on those L-train kids.”

I don't live in Manhattan so I don't know if I might qualify as an L-train kid if, hypothetically, I were to live in Manhattan...but I sure hope so. I remember being in 8th grade and GAZING at the rows of Doc Martens on the shelves of an oh-so-cool little shoe store in Harvard Square. If only I could pull them off, I thought wistfully with my hands jammed into my corduroy overalls (yep, corduroy overalls), I would be as cool as that girl in my class who wore ripped petticoats and black boots and cut her hair herself. Maybe my secret love, who didn't brush his hair and wore a Kurt Cobain tee shirt, would see how totally awesome I was and we could walk around together kicking things with our massive boots. This romantic vision never materialized, though, and then Docs disappeared from fashion for about a million years and my chance was gone.

Or so I thought! Now they're back, and this time sanctioned by fashion's high-ups! Marc Jacobs brought grunge onto the runway way back then, and here he's up and doing it again, but leaving the oversized flannels behind. Good call, Marc. Why are we recalling the 90s, which most would agree was an era remarkably devoid of clothes that actually looked good? God knows, but man, I am ITCHING for a pair of new punky-color Docs. (Remember Punky Color? The hair dye that they sold at music stores that came in circus colors? I was a Manic Panic girl myself, but whatever.)

[via the doc martens website]

This article reports that Docs have been sported on British hipsters (part of the UK "New Rave" movement) since the Fall '07 (they're always ahead of us!), and guesses that "as the kids of the 80s are increasingly distracted making families and paying off mortgages I guess it makes sense that the kids of the 90s (now in their twenties) are in control of youth culture." We're in control? I guess so; how Joy Division of us. And how endearing that we're already harkening back to our youth while we're barely done with being youth. I'm going to be such a loyal member of my generation if I go through with it and get a pair! Though I don't know what to wear them with, since the original 90s inspirations tended toward flowered sundresses and I just canNOT do that. What would you guys wear? Maybe my favorite all-purpose black shirtdress? Yeah, totally. 90s in '09! It's going to RULE.

Why Are Snakes On Shoes So Hot Right Now?

That wasn't a rhetorical question. I'm just wondering, seriously, why are shoes with snakes on them the new it thing? At least, according to Piperlime they are (they kindly filled my inbox with the snake samples above). I know snakeskin has been used for shoes for eternity (Eve probably went back and skinned that serpent for some wicked sandals). But why the emphasis on actual snakes, like on the sandal above? Ladies are supposed to be terrified of snakes. They're creepy, slithery, poison-filled reptiles. But now ladies are apparently lining up for pretend versions to decorate their feet?  I just don't get it.

Is it even true? Style.com doesn't say anything about snakes for spring, but that may be because they're already squarely into Fall '08 features. Neiman Marcus stocks $1100 python Christian Louboutins and Nordstrom has these snake spectator pumps by Stuart Weitzman...

But doesn't the spectator pump look way more awesome in this version, which does NOT happen to be made of scary, deadly animals?

I think Piperlime just has a reptile fetishist on staff who way overbought, and now they're making up trends to help empty out the warehouse to make room for their famous Piperlime afterwork keggers. You haven't lived til you've seen the CEO drink too many wine coolers and start throwing Tory Burch flats.

Eco-Friendly-Trendy: Fashion Mags Go For The Green

[image: the lazy environmentalist]

The media moguls must've overdosed on green beer this St. Patty's Day, because suddenly every magazine I see has turned green. Maybe not literally, but covers on newstands all around town are trumpeting "THE GREEN ISSUE!!!!" as if they'd all gotten an urgent memo from the Magazine Honchos In The Sky alerting them that it was high time to cash in on the eco-friendly trend. I don't know if it's Earth Month or what--I'm far too busy and important to keep track of those things and my assistants are on vaycay--but it is kind of funny to see each mag clamoring for its share of earth-lovin'. Let's see how they compare, shall we?

1. Elle magazine. One of my favorite fashion magazines, actually, rivaling and sometimes beating Vogue for content. Cover: not green. Inside: Madonna! Simon Doonan sits down with Madonna to talk style and substance. Is there something I don't know about Madonna that justifies her being featured on both green issues here? Is she actually made entirely of recycled soda bottles? Green rating: NOPE. Then we have Eco-conscious Living (one woman’s quest to tread lightly on the earth). Green rating: sure, sounds plausible. Still, it smacks of "one woman's real story!" versus actual helpful info. Juice Cleanse (designer juice makes major claims: Maggie Bullock hits the bottle). Green rating: doesn't help the earth, just makes you skinny. Shalom Harlow (photos of eco-icon Shalom Harlow in nature's finest spring looks). Green rating: yeah, right. Photos do not equal photosynthesis. Earth Pledge Future Fashion Show (one-of-a-kind organic looks from 25 top designers). Green rating: OK, I'll accept organic clothing. Fair enough. Elle's 2008 Green Awards, celebrating "the people, products and concepts putting the planet in the right place." Congratulations, guys. What does this do for us? Oh, and then the Elle Sigg Auction fundraiser having something to do with selling off water bottles decorated by celebrities to benefit stopglobalwarming.org. Green rating: valid. This is the thing, though: most celebrities are famous for being in movies, not making great art. Does anyone seriously want to own a piece of Sienna Miller's artwork?

I'd say only about 25% of this "green" content actually relates to benefitting the earth in any way. Pathetic attempt, Elle.

On to Vanity Fair. Quite impressive! And I kind of like their Madonna-as-earth-dominatrix cover shoot better than Elle's goofy shot. Their green material includes Green Beat: Water, Water Everywhere (FIJI water is hoping that its environmental efforts—it claims to be going “carbon negative”—will get the eco-critics off its back); The Gasping Forest (The Amazon generates 20 percent of the planet’s oxygen, but global warming and deforestation are sucking it dry); The 2008 Green Guide ( No idea what a Silent Spring sounds like? Confused about Who Killed the Electric Car? Still not sure what Walden is, or what the heck Thoreau was doing there? Here are 50 environmental books and DVDs to set you straight, from Darwin’s “Eureka!” to Al Gore’s “Wake up!”). Green rating: tops! All-around green machine! It's all totally full of valid, relevant, kick-in-the-pants information! Amazing.

I photoshopped this myself, since 944.com didn't do me the courtesy of providing a handy cover image. WAY TO PROMOTE YOUR GREEN ISSUE. jeez.

I love that Vanity Fair's green issue also includes Evgenia Peretz's Eco Stroking ("I’m all for the idea that every little step helps. But can people please stop patting themselves on the back for their minor “environmentally friendly” efforts?"). That eco-ego-stroking is what Elle's issue is mostly based upon (both their own and their designers and readers'), and it's even more obvious in the hilarious California rag 944, whose green issue is also on newsstands right now. You can't read all of the magazine's content online, but you'd still think their current online front page would reflect some vague aspect of the green theme. And you'd be wrong. We do have a spotlight on "luxury condos setting new standards for oceanfront living in South Beach," and coverage of the Heidi Montag Fashion Show Debut at the Hollywood and Highland fashion center (WHAT?!? She has a line now? The gods must hate me. I can't believe it. I just looked at the pictures, and it's just embarrassing. Tank tops and miniskirts you could pick up at Forever 21, two for $15. She probably just went and bought the clothes there before her "show." I'm not even kidding.). But does anything vaguely earth-related even make it onto the 944 site? Duh, no! Green rating: negative ten million.

Obviously, Vanity Fair comes out the winner (though I'm keeping my Elle subscription still), but there's a big green elephant in the room that none of the rag mags have addressed: what about the 50 bajillion tons of paper used each month by these publications alone? Yeah, I said it. Literature is killing the planet. Go watch TV.

Things I Love Thursday

[obviously, I love headless Siamese twin ballerinas.]

Thursday again already? Holy moly, Charlie Brown. I recently started a new job and the days have been FLYING by. Which is good, I suppose--absolutely a relief after the days at my old job in the big design department, in which I'd start counting the hours remaining until 5:00 after about, oh, 30 minutes of being there. This wasn't helped by the fact that I was literally on my feet all day; I didn't have a desk, or even a chair. I stood at a high table, hunched over my designs--or else stood, aching, in line for the color photocopier--for eight hours straight. AWESOME.

In any case, though, things are looking way up and the fashion world, as always, has provided me with more solid gold nuggets of joy for y'all:

The way guys are dressing these days - When I was watching Clueless after my irresistible urge the other day, I listened fondly as Cher narrated this priceless section:

So okay, I don't want to be a traitor to my generation and all but I don't get how guys dress today. I mean, come on, it looks like they just fell out of bed and put on some baggy pants and take their greasy hair - ew - and cover it up with a backwards cap and we're supposed to swoon? I don't think so!

And I realized that, glory of glories, guys don't dress like that anymore. At least, not in Southern California. Seriously, when was the last time you saw painfully baggy pants? Painfully skinny pants, now, those are in abundance. But baggy pants are stupider and worserer, and I think they're pretty much gone. Medium-baggy standard-issue Levi's, sure. But no under-but belting. Praise be! And while I'm not a huge fan of the generic striped-button-down-with-printed-design-on-one-side that most dudes seem to have latched onto as their going-out wear, at least it's not a huge, gross tee shirt. Even guys who are forever wedded to casual clothes and embrace streetwear as their manna from above (sure, it's a tee shirt, but it cost $60! It's fashion!) are still looking a little more put-together than the sad sacks of 1995. Thanks, guys. My eyes burn less because of your courtesy in choosing outfits.

Speaking of my eyes, I am now helping them see with new glasses! And I love them! They're sort of Burberry's underplayed version of Ray-Ban Wayfarers, which I love. I'd get Wayfarer frames for my normal glasses--my coworker has them and she looks amazing (though perhaps that's more due to her being like ten feet tall and gorgeous)--but they've become so hipster-cliché at this point that I'd feel silly. And I don't know anyone who has these, so I'm not macking on anyone's style. I did, however, have to go to a mall to get them. The Glendale Galleria, in fact, which is A MALL to end all malls. Huge. Full of teenagers. About seven different soft-pretzel vendors. Very scary. It left me with such a bad taste in my mouth that I had to go eat massive amounts of Thai food with my boyfriend to get rid of it.

Bai Ling's blog - I didn't know who she was until I became hopelessly addicted to Go Fug Yourself, in which Bai just won the ultimate fug championship. This is understandable, since Bai has done basically nothing of note other than appear at countless Hollywood events wearing insane, insane clothing and then get featured on Go Fug Yourself. But she is the very best in the world at wearing insane, insane clothing, and at being generally insane overall. And she has gifted us, we lucky lucky public, with a blog entitled HELLO!. She talks about her life and posts a lot of photos taken in dark clubs with her Blackberry and writes amazing sentences like this one:

And the beautiful pink flowers, went to cloud 9 on the 42 floor last night, turning the whole buiding turning the whole city, had a wonderful dinner, watched the whole city blooming in the evening lights like the sea is on fire, beautiful, and I saw a magic behind the mountain, ghosts had a big party celebrate life and a little gentle girl's birthday, the light in her eyes, the smile that waves to me, was my Grandmother reborn?

God, I have so much love this Thursday I can hardly stand it. Here's some extra Bai Ling:

The Value of the Valley Girl

As I was driving home from work today on the lovely and scenic 10 freeway (heh), I had a sudden yen to watch Clueless for the gazillionth time. Ahh, that magical source of "As if!" and matching plaid miniskirt suits. It not only parodied SoCal teen life, it sort of created it.

As did its predecessor, Valley Girl, which I just conveniently read about in the L.A. Daily News:
"Valley Girl" at 25: Big hair is gone, but spirit lingers, fer sher!

[thanx cowboyz 'n' poodles!]

I've never actually seen the movie, which I'm realizing has been a massive omission on my part. I guess that, a la Clueless and "Whatever!", teens nationwide took the exaggerated "Val" slang (or shall I say dialect) and ran with it real, real hard. I'm sure you all know the very fabulous Frank Zappa song where Moon Unit does the Val thing--like, omigod--and I guess the movie based its characters and dialect on the song. Then everyone caught on, and idiotic slang spread 'cross the land like amber waves of grain. Which begs the question: if not for the song mocking a few silly girls isolated in the Valley, would we now still be saying "totally rad" in these here parts? Who knows, but whatever the case, Valley Girls are a diehard tribe now, with new generations skipping around (or, um, shopping around languidly?). Styles may have changed (shoulder pads and perms have given way to, sigh, skinny jeans and giant sunglasses), but general ridiculousness has not. Thank heavens--without 'em, we would be devoid of some AWESOME movies.

Not to mention ragin' outfits. I mean, look at poor Nicky Cage. His pathetic tie doesn't even begin to substitute for his missing shirt. And that hair is just, as my dear Cher Horowitz would say, a big ol' mess! However, if he were wearing a v-neck American Apparel tee, his outfit would actually be pretty hip right now. As would hers. Make those pumps in patent leather and throw a feather in her headband, and she could stroll the streets of Sunset Junction without feat. She might be a little ahead of the Valley, though....

I Can't Believe Crocs Still Exist.

I have just experienced severe trauma to the head. I was looking online for a case for my new phone, and this popped up and then all the veins in my brain exploded and my eyeballs also burned:

[you can spend $14.99 on this monstrosity at eliteXtreme]

Yes, guys and dolls, it is A CROCS CELL PHONE CASE. This is very not okay. I'm concerned about the prospects for our nation, if this is the kind of thing we are permitting our citizens to produce. If you know me at all, you've probably heard me get very rude about how Crocs are the devil's work. They are horribly ugly, undignified and there is absolutely zero reason anyone must wear them; there ARE other comfortable shoes out there. They're called sneakers. And don't think I'm just a big meanie who judges too harshly--heck, I will make exceptions for adorable little children in colorful clothing, whose cute little feet look just fine in cute little colorful plastic clownish Crocs. BECAUSE THEY ARE CHILDREN. Children also wear training pants and use pacifiers, but you don't see adults trotting around in either of those (except maybe a few disturbingly hard-core ravers).

The point is: even if one insists that Crocs are worth the ugly factor because of the comfort factor, how is it POSSIBLE to justify using something that hideous for a phone that doesn't even have FEET? Or, um, nerve endings or a bad back? It boggles the mind.

Money Can Buy Happiness...

...if, like me, finally emerging victorious from an intense search for shoes leaves you very, very happy.

Unlike most females, I don't really love shoe shopping. I think pretty shoes are nice and everything, but trying to find a pair to suit a particular need really stresses me out. I can never find the perfect shoe that I've imagined in my head, and everything else is either heinous or $795. Plus I hate malls, which are usually necessary if you're going on a shoe hunt. UGH.

Therefore, having a dream shoe in my head and then actually going, finding the exact pair, trying them on and BUYING THEM AND BRINGING THEM HOME AND WEARING THEM is like the Holy Grail. It's the most glorious, victorious feeling there is (short of actually doing something impressive, like winning a Nobel Prize). And, glory be, I had that very feeling just days ago. Remember my post about these shoes from a month ago? The picture of them lodged itself in my head and wouldn't take a vacation until I went to Macy's (wow, that shoe department was like the Land of Middle-Aged Ladies in Ugly Mules. It was a little traumatizing.) and found them.

[Nine West Elettra heels]

It's always a good sign if random shoppers in the shoe dept. compliment you when you're trying on the shoes. Though when a very old lady sidled up to me and said, "I just gotta tell you, those look fabulous on you," I was worried--I'm not exactly looking to impress her demographic. But, hell, she was old enough to have been around for Chanel and Halston and original Ferragamo, so probably her taste is flawless. Sure, she was wearing Ugly Mules, but surely if she didn't have bunions, she'd be stalking around in stilettos too. That's what I choose to believe, anyway, and now my new lemon-yellow shoes and I are a deliriously happy couple, the kind you hate that sits on the same side of the booth when they eat at restaurants. Single no longer, I am in the throes of major infatuation. It probably won't grow into True Love...but by then patent leather will probably be passé anyway.

Frivolous Fabulous Frolicking Friday

Somehow, between all that Top-Chef-watching and nail-polish-removing and time spent comparing different salads at Trader Joe's, Thursday managed to slip past me with no commemorative love-strewn post. So I present a special guest this week: F.F.F.Friday. Oh man, I totally didn't even think to put "Fashion" in there with all the Fs. I'm really losing it here. But, uh, TGIF, right? ANYWAY, here are some things you can click on while your boss isn't looking:

A Girl's Life, With Highlights - I remember when I first highlighted my hair. I was 13, my hair was down to my bum, and I wanted dark red streaks (classy, I know). My super-cool aunt took me to Sally Beauty Supply and then helped me mix the bleach and toner and color and give me my oh-so-90s 'do (in her bathroom, I believe). My 15-year-old sister, on the other hand, has had neon red chunks in her hair for a few years, and has certainly never touched a dye bottle herself. Apparently, she's not alone--please read this NYT article on tiny little children demanding full salon services (one mama took her 11-year-old to Frederic Fekkai?! PLEASE ADOPT ME.).

Music Stylists - Narratives of Music and Clothes - Ever wonder where runway shows get all their weirdo music? Here's one way: by using a music stylist. Yup, like Rachel Zoe for runway shows. This article from the Fashion Spot spotlights Labtonic, "a music styling team that works with fashion, design and entertainment companies." I had no idea! Honestly, I'm not sure how important the runway music is to the show's impact (especially considering how most of us only see photos, sans sound). But I guess wherever something CAN be custom-blended--air fragrances for stores, shampoo for your very special and unique hair, Caesar salad made tableside (OK, I love this)--people start figuring it should be. Perhaps I should hire an intern to make me daily iPod playlists every morning depending on my mood.

Sylvia - Possibly the best comic strip still running. The best. Thanks to Susan for reminding me I can read it online. And even though I personally don't really get the whole shoe-shopping addiction thing, I know I'm an exception.

Trend Notes: Prints Are Fading, While Stars Shine?

[aggh! this post didn't post last night when it was supposed to! CURSES.]

[thanks for doing my work for me, WhoWhatWearDaily!]

My fashion news sources tell me that prints are losing steam season by season. I'd never thought about it, but once I did, I realized that yeah, most people aren't walking around in anything other than solid colors. And for sure, the trends I've been into most are all about solid colors and definitely devoid of patterns. Not sure why this is...maybe people are letting the vintage-look trend peter out (a patterned blouse or dress can automatically signal "vintage" or be an easy fake) in favor of futuristic styling with solid colors. I mean, think about robots. Robots NEVER wear prints.

On the flip side, though, the hot new thing that occasionally performs as a print is--wait for it, it's incredibly new and exciting and unique--LITTLE STARS. Oh, wait. Weren't stars cool in, like, middle school? On tee shirts from Contempo Casuals? Right. Anyway, Karl Lagerfeld sent them out in ghastly stars-n-stripes combinations on the Chanel runway, YSL has made some Stripper's Paradise-worthy stiletto heels with cheap plastic-y stars tacked on them (these sandals, BTW, will run you over $800), and now the mass-market chains are chasing the star trend as fast as they can. What gives? I have yet to hear any fashion-savvy person praising little stars (except for ELLE magazine, or was it Vogue?, which gave the YSL sandals their own page dripping with editor drool), and multiple bloggers I trust (I Am Fashion, Thumbelina) agree that the trend is annoyingly childish and unpleasant.

My theory? People are drawn to stars out of some weirdly misguided urge to embrace patriotism with the new hope that comes with the presidential election this fall. It's like, bye-bye past and prints and President Bush, hello future and solid colors and perfect robots and wonderful Democratic American stars! I'm going with this, because it seems the kindest explanation for people's very, very unwise choices this spring. Perhaps all this delightful optimism is what accounts for the nauseating passion for florals this season, too? Let's hope so.