My Gay Italian Summer Dream Is Still Calling Me by My Name

More than six months later.

I feel like I've run into something painfully sharp. A knife? Have I been stabbed?

Oh? It's just the end of summer, you say? I'd call that just a bit more painful than being stabbed. Dramatic, yes, but also entirely honest. The end of summer feels like all of my joy and success is instantly stripped from my life and I only have the month of August to blame. I dream of this season for nine months a year; how is it already over?!

But then I remember—with summer ending also comes my ~*~big move~*~ to Stockholm. Yeah, that's happening today, and I'll be residing in a beautiful European city for the next FOUR MONTHS! The sharp knife turns into a dull one, maybe even just the corner of my notebook that leaves a tiny papercut. Papercuts suck for about five minutes, but they heal so quickly that I'll forget I even had one in two hours. Kind of like the end of this summer—I'll dearly miss the blistering sun and lazy, sweaty days for only some time, but then my transition to greater things acts like a band-aid to that temporary pain. I guess we should all move to trendy European cities post-summer break to relieve our sadness. 

But still, my bittersweetness lingers on the bitter part, as I have to say goodbye to breezy outfits and sunburns and getting freckles in spots that wouldn't normally get them unless they're exposed to sunlight for at least five hours. Also barely-there dresses, ice cream, and dancing to '80s pop (outdoors, obviously). Basically this entire list, or alternatively the narrative of Call Me By Your Name, the book and movie you thought I would stop talking about five months ago. Surprise! I actually still think about it at least three times a week since I saw it last December. My strange Timothée Chalamet phase is somewhat over (I, being a lesbian, was very confused with this infatuation), but my infatuation with this narrative isn't, and now that I was able to bring this into an actual, real-life summer, it feels all the more significant.

No, I didn't spend my summer in Italy and I definitely didn't fall in love. BUT! I did become more confident in my queer identity (thanks to Pride and my newfound interest in writing on queer topics), spent hours by a pool reading (and eating peaches, how on brand!), took a bus for quick weekend trips not once but three times, and had this strange sense of adventure that Elio and Oliver definitely had but I used to lack. Sounds like a gay Italian summer dream, if you ask me, minus the Italy part. 

But my style! That's what I've been looking forward to all these months—to bring that sense of effortless summer that each character perfects in the film to my clothing. I want to wear button-ups with only one button buttoned, damnit! Maybe a floral dress and easy shoes, maybe some Bermuda shorts. I want to show as much skin as possible! Go topless on a beach! Wear as much stripes as possible, and master the art of summer layering. I want shoes to be optional, and I definitely want shirts to be unnecessary. I sometimes even scroll through screencaps from the film while shopping, which can go so far (too far?) to imitation.

The shirt I'm wearing above was not only on my body at least once a week since I bought it in June, but it also directly imitates my favorite shirt that Elio wears (again and again) in the film:

The best part? It's vintage, so it probably is from the '80s. How authentic! But the worst part is that imitation is not personal style. How can I dig deeper?

Shorts are vintage and cut by me (find similar ones here). Top is from Urban Outfitters. Mules are by & Other Stories. 

Shorts are probably the staple of this film, do I just wear shorts more often? Trade in my mini dresses for shorts and billowy tops? Feels too easy, and too overdone—I own a single pair of denim cutoffs that I cut way too short and a single breezy top that I throw on whenever I'm too lazy to think about my outfit. I guess that means I have to raid some thrift shops until I find a pair that can actually act as acceptable pants, maybe swap the loose top for some loose shorts, even? 

I stumbled upon these hot pink and linen AND knee-length shorts while thrifting in Brooklyn when I was there for NYC Pride. I instantly purchased them after successfully trying them on as they were a) only $3 b) would be perfected with a quick DIY hemming and c) the perfect finish to my Pride outfit that I would wear two days later. A month after Pride, I saw these hidden in my closet and decided that they would transcend their single purpose for Pride and become the way to make all my gay Italian summer dreams come true. Paired with a tan tube top and my go-to mules (that I desperately need to replace), I felt inspired by the film but not imitating. I felt my personal style shine through the mix of feminine pink and masculine, well, Bermuda shorts, of all things. But most importantly, the essence from Call Me by Your Name that I loved so dearly is very much present. 

After taking this fashion risk I would have never attempted until now, even after reading countless Man Repeller articles on how groundbreaking the Bermuda short is, I felt that I could only wear shorts of this length for the rest of my life. CMBYN really knew what they were doing! I promptly bought some denim ones and cut just a few inches off:

Photo from my Instagram

and have officially decided that I would like to wear these throughout the fall and even winter, even though that will be fully impossible in the freezing winds of Sweden.

So, I guess my breakup with a dreamy, breezy summer is bound to happen soon. But, as always, one can always dream.

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My Entire Summer Wardrobe is Filled with Pink

The most shocking sartorial decision I've made, well, ever.

My entire life, I've played with the idea of femininity—through my actions, through my identity, and, most prominently, through my style choices. Probably every 20-something woman would say the same thing; in a world where femininity is both praised and demonized, questioning how much is too much, or if none at all is acceptable, feels like a staple of every woman's coming of age story. But when that woman (like myself!) is also questioning her sexuality, or if she even fits into the ideals of womanhood at all and wishes to experiment with different types of gender expressions, the concept of "what it means to be a woman" is very, very confusing. As carrying a deviant sexuality or gender already goes against all notions of what that truly means, at least based on the patriarchy's definition, my adolescent self who had no clue she would be labelling herself as queer ten years later used her femininity to overcompensate with what she was subconsciously yet also deathly afraid of.

We're talking long, blonde hair, dresses practically every day, and the liking of only so-called "girly" things—Cinderella was my favorite Disney princess, and I spent the entirety of my young, adolescent, and teenage life dancing ballet. I also only pretended to like camping and outdoorsy things when my family would force me on those trips, and sports still, to this day, only disgust me, unless you want to call competitive dance a sport or if you invite me to watch Olympic figure skating (which I will transform into a full-on fangirl for the latter, btw). I took these feminine tendencies into high school, too, where I became so feminine that I wore a bright pink tutu when I was Sugar Plum my senior year and decided to entirely swear off of pants when I turned 15 because they didn't fit with my girly style.

(We could also go into my darker past, where I forced myself to like unattainable boys from age 12 to 18 and called an attraction to a girl as simply a "friend crush," but I digress.)

Then, upon understanding my queerness, I suddenly hated everything feminine. I decided to stop dancing, I didn't wear a dress for six months straight, and I changed my 20-minute makeup routine into an under-five-minute one. I omitted every piece of color from my wardrobe, because apparently color is a so-called "feminine" attribute of clothing, and instead stuck to neutrals and muted undertones, especially come the winter months—how depressing is that? My old self had been obsessed with throwing bright hues into an outfit, maybe to overcompensate for not knowing who the fuck I was at the moment, but looking back, at least I was having a blast getting dressed in the morning. 

And then, it hit me—I've liked the art of style for over a decade mostly because, as I said above, getting dressed should be fun. Avoiding certain styles solely because they seem to clash with my identity is not only complete bullshit but also just downright boring. I attempted to rid all the femininity in my life for many complicated reasons, but mostly because it felt like a betrayal to my personal identity and style. However, it is possible to wear a shit ton of color and still carry a sense of masculine energy in one's style.

Apart from carrying a wonderful mess of androgyny, playing with color is simply an enjoyable sartorial choice to play with whether you want to experiment with the idea of femininity or not. I did a test run on this a few months ago, and I continue to throw in a splash of color with (almost) every 'fit this summer because a) #lovesummerhateeverythingelse and b) resembling different colors of the Pride flag during the queerest summer (aka June through August of 20gayteen) seems like the best way to showcase my membership.

But why pink?

Why?

Shirt is vintage, from The Break. Dickies pants are from Urban Outfitters (find vintage ones here). Sneakers are Vans.

The last time I remember myself consciously choosing to wear pink was in 3rd grade, when I had declared pink to be my favorite color. I soon abandoned the idea simply because my girly side began to fade at age 10 into middle school, where pink was replaced by greens, blues, and even purples, which I decided would be my new favorite color as it still carried femininity but was cooler, a little subtler. And then I ditched color altogether, and soon reclaimed it as a staple in my wardrobe only two years later. I went through a lot of style evolutions, as you can tell. 

But again.

Why pink?

You could pinpoint it to the moment when I impulsively bought these pastel pink Dickies last summer days before NYC Pride because I was in desperate need of finding colorful pants to go with my 100% Human shirt for the parade on Sunday. I thought they would exist in my closet as "those pants that I wore to Pride in 2017 but have not touched since," but they soon become a staple in my closet that I constantly slipped on. However, always with neutrals—never would I pair the pants with a bright red top, of all things.

But obviously, I've changed since.

Only recently did I stop associating color with gender and the divide between masculinity and feminity. Seeing men wear hot pink and women wear army green and everyone in between wear whatever they wanted gave me the realization that of all things, why the hell was color a gendered phenomenon? The concept of gendering most anything is strange—why are we labelling boats as women and why do some people simply refuse to respect people's they/them pronouns? Can't color simply exist as a way to express oneself without being sorted into the rigid binary of gender?

Yes, all of this is true—but I realized I've been shifting towards pinks and reds and other pieces like floral mini dresses because maybe I miss that feminine side that I used to be so heavily attached to when I was younger. I abandoned her because I was in a strange battle with my sexuality and felt that my previous connection to all things feminine was simply me being too afraid to admit to myself my true queerness, but now I realize that I loved that feminine side. Looking back, it felt like overcompensation, but now that I'm the surest of myself that I've ever been, all I want to do is reclaim that femininity as my own, as I now am redefining womanhood by being a lesbian but also deciding that I will always hold a strong tether to femininity. I still love dance, but I ditched ballet for a postmodern style that ignores antiquated gender roles seen in the more classical style. I could care less about sports and still find the outdoors to be a dark and scary place that I'd rather not partake in, and makeup, although I wear far less of it, excites me beyond belief. The above 'fit shows that I'm obsessed with so-called "feminine" colors and details like ruffles, but still throw in my personal style to the mix with my Vans, style of pants, and short hair.

And then came my final epiphany: it is possible to simply dip into the pool of femininity instead of diving head-first.

Should I make that my Instagram bio?


All photos shot by the WONDERFUL Geordon when I visited NYC last month.

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Love Summer, Hate Everything Else

The hashtag that swept the nation.

As I lay by a pool, preferably a rooftop one in NYC but realistically my campus one in DC, feeling the sweat drip down my back and the humidity cling to my skin, sipping on preferably a cold glass of Provencal rosé but realistically some good ol' H₂O to stay hyrdrated, wearing nothing but a bikini and cat-eye sunglasses that keep falling down due to the constant stream of sweat on my nose, I have realized that it is summer.

Finally!

I dreamt of it for eighteen months, I looked to cinema to calm my winter blues, I endlessly scrolled through Instagram just to catch some inspiration and to keep my hopes up while I dreadfully waited for the season to come. 

Now that it's here, I'm surprisingly not sure how to feel. The East coast skipped straight past spring and right into the heat of summer, going from 40 degrees to 85 in the span of one day. The lack of a transition period completely threw me off, and my summer dreams 180ed into an entirely different plan. My NYC rooftop instead became the same DC campus that made me hate winter, and the dream of summer became its sticky, sticky reality. DC humidity is real. But! I knew I had to continue dreaming the summer dream. I waited what felt like years for the three months of sweat and sun, so I was going to make it count.

Then I stumbled upon the hashtag #lovesummerhateeverythingelse, thanks to my fashion role model Leandra Medine Cohen who coined the term and started a revolution. I immediately started noticing all of the wonderful, wonderful perks of summer: 

• My birthday practically kicks off summer (May 31st, if you were curious). Also, Gemini season is arguably the best, right next to Cancer.
• It being 100% acceptable to eat ice cream every day, even when you're trying to be dairy free.

Doing my part to embody the essence of my greatest hashtag contribution to Instagram YOU KNOW THE ONE #lovesummerhateeverythingelse

A post shared by Leandra (Medine) Cohen (@leandramcohen) on May 29, 2018 at 1:47pm PDT

• It also being 100% acceptable to not wear pants or an actual top, especially when drinking rosé.

Thanks to all of you who engaged in me buying a non-swim bikini you did a good job

A post shared by Fanny Ekstrand (@fannyekstrand) on May 6, 2018 at 11:32pm PDT

• Or just ditching the top altogether.

first time in portrait mode 👣

A post shared by Summer Dawn (@summer.dawn) on May 29, 2018 at 1:00pm PDT

• The ability (and freedom) to spend days reading. And not for school, but just for the sake of reading.
• Way too much color, both because why not, and because Pride month is here!
• Those barely-there dresses that require nothing but a body but really only work between the months of May and August.

Soft, stretchy, saves 884 gallons of water and just a few inches shy of a tank top. The Annette mini dress. #summer

A post shared by Reformation (@reformation) on May 30, 2018 at 10:28am PDT

• Those tiny sunglasses that seem to hardly protect our eyes from the sun but look really cool.

found my corner

A post shared by Kaia (@kaiagerber) on Apr 1, 2018 at 1:09pm PDT

• Drinking approximately five La Croixs every day, and always having a backup in your bag. 
• The ability to finally play those songs that make you dream of summer without being sad, because, my friends, the wait is over.

If you've enjoyed my other playlist posts in the past, get excited, because they are officially becoming a regular thing! Once a month, that is.

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What to Wear When: Color Isn't Your Thing

Here's a solution: ...make it your thing.

Only about two years ago, color freaked me out, even so much to the point that I didn't want to be near it. Why invest in a piece of clothing that's far too flashy if it won't match with the rest of my wardrobe? When I bought a pair of shoes, I'd immediately go for black, and when looking at the general palette of my closet, it would be a mix of neutrals, muted blues, and maybe some pastel pinks and rusty oranges. Primary colors were practically nonexistent. But, as all styles change, especially through our coming-of-age stories, bright hues soon became a staple of my sartorial life.

Was it because I was simply exhausted from making up for the lack of color in my wardrobe with bright lipstick (and frankly, pieces that just did not fit my style whatsoever)?

Or was it this new surge in obsessing over Instagram influencers who were themselves obsessing over summer and the colors that followed the trend of #lovesummerhateeverythingelse?

The second sounds convincing, as there lies a whole bunch of photographic evidence:

This is my "Wellness" shirt

A post shared by Leandra (Medine) Cohen (@leandramcohen) on Jun 30, 2017 at 9:26am PDT

You could choose to wear one color in the form of lavender pants paired with some neutrals (if you count a white button-up embellished with fruits and veggies as a neutral),

kick it 🆙 because two dresses are better than one 💃 for @refinery29 @r29fashion pics by @jordantiberio @meganmadden link in bioooo #AlyssaShowsYouHow

A post shared by alyssa coscarelli (@alyssainthecity) on May 8, 2018 at 5:48am PDT

you could try TWO bright colors on top of the other, because two is better than one,

My second favorite fluid ☕️☕️☕️

A post shared by Fanny Ekstrand (@fannyekstrand) on May 13, 2018 at 3:04am PDT

or you could go with one color scheme (red in this case), but splay it across your entire 'fit.


No matter how I got here, I got here. The girl terrified of color has transformed into one who embraces it through and through. While I've resolved my fear, I know many haven't. Instead of introducing color into your wardrobe like a tsunami, it's best to do it in waves. One piece at a time! It's just like getting a haircut—if you have long locks and want to go full-on pixie, it feels a hell of a lot less scary to do it in phases (take me, for example). The same goes with color—if you slowly introduce the trend into your everyday wear, soon, you'll become the human version of a rainbow. Just in time for Pride month!

So! To show you all how to do this, I decided to revert back to my 18-year-old self and start from the beginning. I did exactly what I am telling you all to do now—start slowly.

More photographic evidence below:

Jacket and jeans are vintage (jeans from The Break). Bodysuit by American Apparel (rip). Mules by & Other Stories.

To put it simply, all you have to do to dive into the world of color is to wear color. Who knew!

In all seriousness, it only requires taking one piece that's bold (bright red, cobalt blue, gen Z yellow) and pairing it with neutrals. In a way, this makes the 'fit more interesting, as everyone's eyes go directly to that one piece. The rest hardly even matters, since people will be too busy staring at the singular piece of color. It's easier than you think!

In my case, I made sure to focus on the statement piece, which was this one bright red brocade jacket I discovered at my local thrift store (also handmade and stitched in Hong Kong in the 1950s, if you were curious). I crafted my outfit around this item, which is the trick to working with color—my favorite pair of vintage jeans, a simple black bodysuit, and my go-to summer shoes quickly fell into place. If the jacket were black, I'd be extremely bored and on my way to a business casual meeting. But instead, the red makes me look ready for anything. Isn't red the color of power? No wonder a red lip is the fastest way to immediately boost one's confidence. And the same goes for adding a touch of color to your look—I have a strong feeling it's scientifically linked to increasing your mood. 

Is it just me? 

Maybe it is. But what I do know is that you'll look a hell of a lot more exciting. That's all that really matters, no?

All photos shot by Tori.

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An '80s Summer Revival is Upon Us

All thanks to popular queer cinema.

Call Me by Your Name (2017)

Ever since November of 2016, I've been dreaming of summer. Yep. Almost 14 months of longing for a season that only lasts three months, meaning I've been thinking about summer for the span of almost five summers. Now that's depressing. But, according to popular media, the thousands of IG photos set in LA or Barcelona that praise summer, and the satisfaction most of us seem to get by wearing minimal clothing, it seems like I'm not the only one. My 16 and 17-year-old self would be laughing right now. I used to hate this season, but now, in the midst of winter, all I want is summer.

The appeal hit me in November of 2016, as I said above, when I watched "San Junipero" for the first time. If you haven't heard of it, where have you been? But I'll still explain: it's an episode of Black Mirror set in a beach town in the '80s filled with '80s music, a queer love story that doesn't end in tragedy, and summer looks that make me dream of the season for 14 months straight. First step: if you haven't already, watch this now. Go. Don't even finish reading this blog post; go watch it then return 61 minutes of cinematic genius later.

San Junipero (2016)

Did you watch it? Good. Now back to my point. You understand why all of it is so, in the simplest of words, enamoring? All I want to do is fall in love wearing breezy summer clothes, but only in the '80s. No other decade will suffice. Maybe this is why the runway is heavily pulling from this decade, bringing back the power suit and shoulder pads because nostalgia is just that powerful. Nostalgia sells! And maybe this is also why other cinematic pieces are also following this '80s summer trend—enter my other favorite queer love story, Call Me by Your Name, the film I've watched three times in the past three weeks and read twice in the past two weeks. Take everything from "San Junipero," switch genders, and amplify it all. "San Junipero" makes me want to fall in love in the summer in the '80s, but Call Me by Your Name makes me feel like I am falling in love in the summer in the '80s. Since this one's a bit longer (especially if you read the book), I'm not going to make you stop reading this post and watch it, but if you haven't yet, go buy tickets ASAP or spend the next day reading it before going out to see it.

Call Me by Your Name (2017)

It not only portrays the feelings of endless desire and selfless love in the span of one summer oh-so-perfectly, but it also holds a few of my favorite things: the scenery of Northern Italy; a mix of '80s hits, entrancing piano pieces, and heart-wrenching Sufjan Stevens songs; and a style that can be summed up by the word billowy, a term used in the novel to describe one of Oliver's (Armie Hammer) shirts. "San Junipero" made me dream of summer, but Call Me by Your Name made me long for it as I felt what summer should feel like in the 2 hours and 12 minutes it takes to watch the movie. So ever since watching the two, I've constantly been re-watching them, desiring that same bubbly feeling that I get that could only be a product of an '80s summer love story. Gay, that is (sorry, straight storylines, we've had enough of you).

Because I can't go on for years just re-watching these two pieces, I might as well find a way to make the hazy '80s summer last in some way. Finding the love of my life in the span of a short summer isn't necessarily feasible, so what about only listening to '80s music? That's a bit too much. What about moving to Northern Italy? A bit too random, at least right now. Maybe simply pull inspiration from the styles of each piece? There we go. Instead of just following typical '80s trends, these pieces seem to find the best, most refreshing ones, and while I can't wear practically nothing in below freezing weather, I can at least dream of wearing them when temps rise in the spring.

San Junipero (2016)

Bermuda shorts have never looked so good! I think I'll ditch my DIY cut-offs that I cut three inches too short and opt for some khaki bermudas. Oversized striped tee recommended, shoes optional.

San Junipero (2016).

And when the beachy breezes of the night hit, slip on a denim jacket. Fake glasses also optional.

Call Me by Your Name (2017)

Speaking of denim jackets, make double denim an '80s summer dream by pairing light-wash Levi's with a breezy striped button-down and a cuffed jean jacket.

Call Me by Your Name (2017)

And now that I mention stripes, why don't you just wear stripes 24/7? Maybe in the form of a Lacoste polo paired with denim, or instead in the form of a button-down shirt that's only buttoned twice with khakis. The key to flirting is to purposefully match with your crush but play it off like it was an accident, because stripes are so in right now.

Call Me by Your Name (2017)

Summer implies that almost-outfit-repeating is completely acceptable, making it possible to wear that same breezy button-down over and over again but this time, with even less buttons done and with a bathing suit that also acts as really short shorts. If you want a change, wear the same shorts you wore while swimming earlier that day and pair it with your favorite band tee (bonus points if your favorite band tee is a Talking Heads one, like Elio's (Timothée Chalamet)).

San Junipero (2016)

The bermudas are back! Instead of wearing a mostly undone button-down like Oliver, only leave the top button undone and tuck it into belted shorts. Pair it with a (you guessed it) denim jacket to lessen that business-professional vibe.

Call Me by Your Name (2017)

Here's billowy! Wear your best-dressed button-down with belted trousers on your first day of summer, but make sure to still leave most of the buttons undone to show off some skin or your jewelry. It's summer, remember? Also, make sure the shirt you wear when meeting your future soulmate is a good one, because...

Call Me by Your Name (2017)

...he'll ask to keep it when the summer comes to a close and decide to wear it everyday you're apart. Two birds with one stone: sustainable fashion and holding on to a lost love through their most personal possessions.

Call Me by Your Name (2017)

And when summer's gone, exchange the bathing suit for wool trousers and the summer button-down for a winter one layered over a turtleneck, because summer doesn't last forever and it just got really fucking cold.

What I've come to realize is that the sunny season is a dream-like state, which is what makes it so enticing, and these two pieces of cinema somehow translate summer to literally and figuratively feel like a never-ending dream that's fueled by love. How romantic! If only we could live in summer forever, but instead, responsibilities and negative temperatures face us. I'll be counting down the days: 161 more days until I can live in a dream again.

Call Me by Your Name (2017)

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The Versatility of Vintage

Both an alliteration and a fun fashion hack!

One year ago, I was frightened by the word vintage. Thrifting, Goodwill, second-hand shopping, the whole shebang. Wait, what?? 

When I was a mere 18 year-old, first entering the pits of college and living in a city (D.C., if you didn't know) for the first time, the idea of buying clothing that had already been worn freaked me out. Coming from a suburb of North Atlanta, I only knew Goodwill, or the southern-suburban version of Goodwill, to be more exact. What a scary place! I didn't know that good vintage finds existed. Yes, suburban Goodwills are filled to the brim with good (and cheap) buys, but that required the right amount of time, a ton of energy, and a specific mood that consisted of being able to be open to anything. Way too many requirements, if you ask me.

But then I went to Seattle this March, and everything changed. I learned that the certain art of thrifting actually wasn't that difficult to master—you just have to be really open minded and be willing to wear pieces in different, at times unexpected, ways. These are the things you're taught your entire life if you're raised by thrifting pros, but I wasn't so lucky. My mom was so unknowledgeable on the subject of vintage fashion that she even got rid of most of her wardrobe from the '70s, '80s, and '90s, assuming it would be worthless now. After some short-term anger at this act, I realized I was being a hypocrite—I don't even like vintage clothing. Why would I be mad at her for depleting her closet that was a thrifter's dream when I didn't even own thrifted clothing myself?

So—back to Seattle. This city is filled to the brim with thrift stores that charge you at reasonable prices (unlike NYC) and usually have excellent finds, unlike the suburban stores I was used to. My first official thrifted piece of clothing was my pair of vintage Levi shorts (which will be showcased below!), presumably coming from the early '90s, that started from way above my belly-button, just how I liked them, but reached to the very top of my knee caps. An awkward length, if you ask me. So my first thrifting lesson was applied—always be ready to tailor your thrifted pieces. The scissors came out, and I cut them myself that very day, transforming them from '90s mom to trendy NY summer blogger. I finally felt like a real thrifter, then the purchases kept coming. One vintage coach purse for only $3 and one black silk bandana later, I finally hopped aboard the thrifting train.

Living in New York this summer changed everything, too. It was a whole different game there—thrift stores practically raided the East Village, Williamsburg, and Bushwick, but each borough brought out a different kind of thrifting. Manhattan's was far too overpriced but carried designer brands (from Acne to Alexander Wang) and those it-pieces that every editor and blogger were wearing on a day-to-day basis. Bushwick was fortunately the opposite—similar to Seattle with the pricing, but a bit more East coast than PNW. Williamsburg fell right in between, where many shops were overpriced but held more of an artist vibe than a fashionista's. This plethora of options upped my vintage game even further, opening my world view to other outlets, like buying vintage through Instagram (which is an excellent invention, by the way). The opportunities to buy used clothing are endless these days, making me love the concept even more, and I haven't even mentioned how sustainable it is!

Yes, it's obvious that you can buy vintage practically anywhere these days, but what about how we wear it?

Vintage Dress bought at Antoinette Vintage. Shoes by Urban Outfitters (similar here).

Above, you'll see me wearing a midi, almost maxi, vintage floral dress that slightly resembles a mix of cool grandma and Little House on the Prairie. How tf am I supposed to style this without looking like the aforementioned persona? I could wear it alone with slides and embrace this lewk, ooooor...

Shorts are vintage Levi's (remember the ones I talked about a few paragraphs ago?).

I could wear pants! I hope you all were thoroughly surprised by my big reveal. 

Almost exactly one year ago I wore a dress with jeans for the first time and I felt a bit funky, but in a cool, sartorial way, and now, 365(ish) days later I feel like I've mastered the art of this technique. It usually only works with button-down dresses (at least to my knowledge), pairing this with high-waited pants vs. low will most likely look better, and showing a tad bit of skin makes the combo even more interesting. However, my main point isn't how to style dresses in a ~kewler~ way, but how to style vintage in a non-traditional manner. Unbuttoning more than half of the Grandma-esque dress just transformed antique into edgy. Where's my that was easy button? Oh, also adding shorts in the mix makes it socially acceptable, but this step is not the key in my hypothesis. The key really only lies in the dress—it was designed to be worn fully-buttoned, but altering this construct and only buttoning six of what feels like a million can do so much. No scissors or stitches required! Reworking vintage doesn't only mean cutting the hem of those vintage jeans or fixing some broken seams; it could mean just wearing a piece in a way it's not designed to be worn. This is when it gets kind of freaky: aren't there technically an infinite amount of ways to wear something that differs from its intended manner? 

Another perk: wearing lengthy dresses this way makes you feel like you're wearing a sartorial cape, making you feel so much more powerful than a typical dress.

How do you rework your vintage pieces? Comment your thoughts below!

Photos shot by Brisa, back when I was living in NYC.

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I Finally Understand Sartorial Uniforms

My first time ever using uniform in the context of style!

Mostly because I used to think the concept of a uniform is complete bullshit. Why would you want to follow a strict formula for dressing yourself when instead you could wear whatever the hell you want? I like the latter option better. With my opinion disregarded, the term has been used when discussing fashion ever since people started writing about fashion. I always viewed it, both in writing and real-life, as a cop-out—in writing, it would be the easiest route to dissect someone's style, and in real-life, it would be the easiest route to get dressed in the morning. Here are some examples in the media that always pissed me off:

• Parisian style always being analyzed as uniform dressing by usually looking at style icons like Jeanne Damas and literally just... copying them 
• Writers stating that finding a style uniform is the smartest way of dressing, while it's truly just the easiest
• The concept that people who choose to dress in their own style uniform on the daily are the only ones who 100% understand their personal style, leaving out all of the personal style kweens who dress differently every day

And a whole. Lot. More. Just google "style uniform" and the results are endless. This isn't necessarily a critique of those publications, as all three of those are three of my favorite fashion websites. They're simply writing what their audiences want, as everyone and their mother seem to find the style uniform as the most groundbreaking thing since sliced bread. My love for them aside, I just couldn't agree with their statements. I always felt that the smartest way to dress is to do the opposite, and wear anything that feels right to you, sans all the uniform bullshit and fashion rules and overdone trends, etc etc etc. People like Leandra Medine enforced this in me, but then other people like Courtney Trop with her relaxed yet sophisticated LA signature look and Alyssa Coscarelli with her sartorial NYC look usually featuring classic bottoms (hello, Levi's) and super funky and usually vintage tops seem to have their shit together by (mostly) following the uniform route of dressing, and something sparked within me. 

Maybe I didn't entirely disagree with uniforms after all! Apart from the influencers I saw on IG that were killing it with their outfit recipes, I truly began to understand the concept when I saw many people in the CMG office this summer follow outfit recipes as well. One would base their outfits around their favorite pair of Levi's every single day, one would always show up in a thrifted midi dress with mules, and another would always have this sleek, London style, which varied upon outfits, but always consisted of her leather jacket and some form of slides. This might sound like stalking to some, but I'd rather call it "seeking outfit inspo," or more accurately, "outfit stalking." Then something within me clicked. 

You can have more than one style uniform! Who knew. 

And I don't mean just two or three or ten. I mean, like, an infinite amount of style uniforms. 

Only a select few have a single uniform and honestly, that's just boring. Ten can be boring, too. But in reality, in almost everyone's wardrobes, lies an infinite amount of uniforms. How mind-blowing is that! Before I get too tenth dimension on you all, I'm going to stop with all the infinite nonsense because even my brain doesn't know how to process that correctly. Instead, I'll approach it in this way: it's not about the number of uniforms you have, it's about how you approach your everyday look. I used to, and still do to an extent, approach my look by waking up, looking in my closet, and picking out what felt right. Easy as a slice of cherry pie, but also, what if you have no clue what feels right? Enter the uniform. 

Inside the tiny, or large, depending on who you are, sector of our brain that is reserved for all things personal style/self-expression is an infinite amount of style recipes. Reserved for those who aren't in the correct creative mind to pull an outfit out of literally nothing. We go running to that place when we need a crutch or need help from our imaginary fashion fairy god mother. It's like the more personal and private version of scrolling through Who What Wear or the style board on someone's Pinterest—it's not copying one's outfit, it's taking fashion schemas that we're already familiar with and remolding them to make them our own. For example, if I woke up one morning wanting to embody a nonchalant French girl who hates accessories and loves easy (but dressed-up) shoes, enter one style uniform: a statement midi + mules. Another example: if I woke up another morning being in a pants + t-shirt mood but really didn't feel like putting on jeans, enter a uniform consisting of a graphic tee and colorful trousers. And so on. Lately, especially this past summer in NYC, I've felt more of my outfits falling victim to being a sartorial uniform, which is almost necessary in a city where style is a requirement. Although I've left the city, I still feel the impact! So commence a style uniform I've just recently invented, perfect for those end-of-summer blues:

a. the jeans that are glued to my legs all summer (and fall and winter and spring), even in the hottest of days, because apparently I'm a jeans kind of gal now

b. a v minimal top, preferably one that is easy to tuck into above jeans and does not require a bra, but also anything that's way cooler than a plain white tee or tank

c. some kewl shoes!! ones that make those jeans POP

d. a layering piece that is my go-to jacket this summer and can be worn three ways: arms inside arm-holes, arms outside arm-holes, or tied around the waist

And voila. An outfit is formed. 

Jeans are vintage Levi's. Bodysuit by Reformation. Shoes by Creatures of Comfort (similar here). Jacket by Madewell.

I thought this would be a one-time ordeal after I bought these jeans, as I've never been a jeans person, well, ever. But the uniform concept really stuck! Ever since I copped these bad boys, I've worn them at least three times a week. Laundry has been happening more than it should be. There are many wonders of this new approach to dressing, or the sartorial uniform approach—you can do it in oh-so-many ways (imagine this instead with a cropped wrap top, a jean jacket the same shade as those pants, and grandma pumps!!), and it's only one of a katrillion style uniforms you have. You can wear the uniform more than once (which is what makes it a uniform, yes?), but you don't have to wear it every single day. Sounds like the best fashion compromise ever: when you're too lazy to actually produce an outfit with no help whatsoever, but don't want to be an outfit repeater, delve into your secret stash of uniforms that will always save the day. This one happens to be at the top of my list, as it's perfect for that transition into fall fashion when it's still hot outside. And it also is a friendly reminder that wearing the same piece more than once is actually a good thing. Why would you purchase something if you're only going to wear it a few times a year? 

So yes, after too much research, philosophical thinking, ranting, and even pulling evidence from my own sartorial decisions, I finally understand the style uniform. Do you finally get them, too? Or did everyone understand them all along, and it just took me this long?

Photos shot by Venesa.

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Prints Prints Prints!

To make summer even more fun than it already is.

I have always been an advocate of mixing prints, especially when Leandra Medine declared it cool and Alessandro Michele declared it high fashion. But if you look at what I wear, this statement clashes with my actual style. When have I ever mixed prints, especially when they're loud and clashing? Hell, when have I ever worn a loud print alone? The furthest I'll go is gingham or floral, yet those are still fairly soft.

And combining the two? Never.

But just like the OG Justin Bieber song, never say never, especially with style. Because it's constantly evolving. Six months ago, I would have never done double denim, but this summer, I even styled four looks and was featured in a video about it.

Do you love denim so much that you want to be covered in it from head to toe? I know I do. I love facing a fashion challenge, which in this case is working double (or sometimes triple) denim into an outfit. Watch my video to see how I styled four versions of the Canadian tux. — @fracturedaesthetic

A post shared by obsessee (@obsessee) on Jul 24, 2017 at 8:01am PDT

Watch above for proof that style can never be stable! Aka the inspiration for my blog title I made back when I was 16 and had no idea what the fuck I was doing. I guess I wasn't as incompetent as I thought, as this thought still drives almost all of my style decisions. Like the one I made for this 'fit you're about to see in a few seconds!

My preconceived notion that prints on prints, especially of the clashing type, could never work vanished into thin air when I purchased a print you would never see me wearing pre summer 2017. Are you dying to see what it is? Wait for it...

Dress is used Reformation (bought on eBay!). Bandana by Madewell. Mules by & Other Stories.

Leopard print, of all the prints in the world, is the last thing I would wear, my former self thought only one month ago. But now I'm covered in it! I've come to realize that when I purchase clothing of second-hand nature, these items are things I would never be caught dead buying if they weren't used or vintage. This is one of the many perks of thrifting, as it forces me to try new things, such as going for that oversized look or purchasing a dress that imitates an animal. Like wearing fur, but minus the unethical part. I found this gem when I was scrolling through one of my IG follower's sale on eBay, as one fashion 'grammer normally does, and I immediately started bidding once I noted that it was both super soft and from Reformation. And now she's mine! 

Originally when I was waiting for it in the mail and brainstorming styling methods, I assumed I would need to keep everything else lowkey as this print was already too loud for my style. Maybe with a bandana, but a solid color. Loud prints + more loud prints were just not in my vocabulary. But the minute I put it on, I fell in love and was already feeling a little risky, so I tied my gingham bandana around my neck in cowboy style, one I've never attempted before until this adventurous day. Animal print plus cowboy bandana? How untame of me!

What I love most about this combo is that the two prints are so vastly different—the leopard screams '80s, not necessarily in a good way, and the gingham is v '90s, but in the soft and nostalgic manner. But together, they create this perfect mess that is just too good to miss. A perk of mixing prints: you get an end product that is completely different from the two (or three, or four) beginning pieces. Like a style recipe! 

Photos shot by Brisa.

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