The Power of the Blazer

I swear these things have superpowers.

Just before the fall semester had begun, I began to notice a specific trend—styling structured blazers in non-professional ways. Were the 80's finally back after years of rejection? Was business professional trying to be back in style, sans the whole three-piece-set suit aspect (unless you're into that)? Or, maybe more answerable, is androgyny taking over the likes (and styles) of people who were once completely opposed to the term?

With (or without) these questions in mind, it has now become more than obvious that blazers are back in fashion. Maybe they're too back, if that's even possible. Zara has an infinite amount of them and even has their own sub-category for blazers apart from outerwear; they're on every single fashion blogger, street style star, influencer, and person who is somewhat interested in fashion on Instagram; and now they're on me! I've succumbed to trends. Someone call the police.

My search for a blazer was not rooted in Zara's massive collection or my desire to imitate Spanish blogger María Bernard, but it was rather a quest that began when I noticed the resurgence of the vintage blazer at small vintage shops in Manhattan and Brooklyn this summer. After no luck of finding one that both fit me and one that I fell in love with, I took to Instagram, as one normally would, and scanned every vintage IG page that existed. Months of turning on post notifications for one too many accounts and DMing at every potential opportunity, I had found myself a vintage, wool blazer, all the way from Paris! How romantic.

Blazer, Levi's jeans, and slides are vintage. Lace slip by Urban Outfitters. Sunglasses by Lisa Says Gah.


Upon getting this baby in the mail over two months ago, my entire outlook on life changed. Am I being a bit too dramatic? Probably, but my excitement began when my DM to one particular Instagram account resulted in them finding me a blazer that hadn't even been posted to their page yet. I felt more than special—they had a reserve of vintage pieces that were practically on hold for people, like me, who came to them who had specific items in mind. As I claimed the piece before it even went on sale to the public, I knew it would have transformative powers. And as I slipped it on over a graphic tee seconds after opening the package, the myth of the superpowers became a reality.

Once again, am I being too dramatic?

Important background info is that I've never worn a blazer in my life until this one, making my strong reaction to the item completely acceptable. I had always associated them with strict business dress codes that I never had to partake in, making the act of wearing a blazer not one I wanted to associate with. But now! I want to wear this bad boy
every
single
day.

Which I did the first week I had it, if I'm going to be completely honest.

Slip it on over a band tee and jeans and sneakers, and you immediately transform a lazy look into an effortlessly cool 'fit. Wear it with a lace slip, vintage Levi's, and slides to hold on to that last bit of summer but still show you're ready for winter (as seen on me in the above photos). Layer it over a rust turtleneck with heeled ankle boots, and you transform into a fall trends kween. Pair it with a hoodie and add a leather jacket over the blazer, and you just mastered the art of layering in two easy steps. The options are endless. Just do anything but what you would normally expect from a business staple, unless you want to own that look and go full-on CEO. Because that's also completely taking over the fashion world. Pantsuits are cool now! And maybe the beauty of the blazer lies in just that—even if you're not a CEO, you could easily look like one.

Fashion is transformative, remember?

Photos shot by Maddie.

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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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