OMG, Monogrammed Clutches

If there's one piece of diction that's been a main-stay in my vocabulary since before I proactively began learning new words (shout out to Hot Words for the SAT), it's OMG. No need to point out that it's actually an acronym, you get the gist.

For a brief period in 5th grade, I used OMG so often that it only made sense to change my AOL screen name from sunnyelly to Omg265, whose numerical latter half has no connection to me whatsoever and was automatically generated by AOL. It wasn't long before I ditched Omg265 and settled on the generic nickname-random number combination that has since become my online identity: ellie2635.

Screen names aside, I haven't been able to kick the OMG habit. I insert OMG into sentences where Valley girls use "like" and most of my thoughts start and end with OMG. I have to censor myself when speaking so I don't sound overly excited at every minute life detail.

So it only made sense that when I saw the below picture in a J.Crew Facebook post this morning, my first thoughts were "OMG I need it." I didn't realize the post was an advertisement for monogrammed bags until I went to J.Crew's website and hopelessly searched for said clutch. On a related note, my lack of middle name makes monogrammed items an awkward option for me, so I might just have to buy myself an OMG clutch.

PS: Isn't it so obnoxious to see OMG written so many times?

You guys, Patagucci

We're in the throes of sale hysteria. How have you embraced it?

I, for one, couldn't wait until cyber Monday to take advantage of the online shopping deals that have greeted me every time I've checked my email this past week, so I logged into my newly-activated United Mileage Plus portal yesterday to ensure that with every dollar I spent online, I would receive 2 airline miles. If that's not killing two birds with one stone, I don't know what is. With a few clicky clicks, I bought myself a new fleece that was 30% off to add to my Patagucci collection.

Similar to my fascination with sneakers, I've always been attracted to members of the opposite sex who wear Patagonia jackets and whose first name is commonly a last name. I imagine that I bought my first Patagonia fleece from the men's section of Urban Outfitters 6 years ago because I had a crush on a guy who wore a similar one. It was a retro-looking royal blue fleece with kelly green piping that lasted me well into my freshman year of college. At my small liberal arts school, I became acquainted with hordes of boarding school alumni who wore pastel Patagonia fleeces, and I wanted in. I traded my retro pullover for a plushy mint green one, which I wore everyday for two months before realizing that I could be wearing more becoming tops that didn't come in toothpaste shades.

It wasn't until a couple of weeks ago that I fell back into a Patagonia stupor. A friend and I stopped at my neighborhood Patagonia store while taking my dog for a Sunday afternoon walk. Within one minute upon entering, the three of us lost our cool and became all sorts of overwhelmed by the sheer attractiveness of the store associates. As bearded James Franco look-a-likes tried to play in-store frisbee with my lackadaisal dog, I remembered why I had started shopping at Patagonia in the first place. I walked out of the store with the intention of returning the next week a little more put together, but not before deciding that there must exist a Patagonia scouting team that looks for attractive men to send free fleeces.

Below, a flashy Patagonia fleece paired with some equally flashy sale finds. Happy cyber Monday!!

Patagonia fleece, Joseph leather trousers, Holst + Lee necklace, Maison Martin Margiela bracelet, Alexander Wang oxfords, Equipment blouse, Prada wing tip sneakers, Pierre Hardy clutch

Boy Band Turtlenecks

I'm writing this from Montréal, a place so frigidly cold that I've so far avoided taking showers for fear of my wet hair freezing into molded curls. The room I'm in has a current temperature of 23 degrees Celsius, which is about 73 degrees Fahrenheit. I think I'd be better off if this were all in Kelvin. I'm sitting on the floor with one side of my body pressed against the radiator, and the burning sensation on my elbow is surprisingly comforting right now.

My first few hours in Montréal have made me realize the primacy turtlenecks should take in one's winter wardrobe. I used to scoff at all nape-concealing tops because they reminded me of the Lands End ones my mom would layer on my five year old self before dropping me off at ski school (a truly traumatic experience). Between the ages of ten and twenty, I considered turtlenecks to be an overly conservative vestiary option. "I'll reconsider when I'm 50," I'd say when they always found their way back into my closet courtesy of Santa Clause/my mom. But here I am, at the ripe age of 23, watching *NSYNC music videos in Montréal, thinking how badly I could use a turtleneck sweater. 

It's true.

I'm slightly embarrassed at the path I'm about to go down, but I recently rediscovered This I Promise You, and I've watched the music video enough times over the past two days to perform a comparative turtleneck analysis. As coordinated outfits are the leading indicator of boy band-iness, it only makes sense that every member of the fab five (excluding Joey) is wearing a turtleneck sweater, each of which is offensive in its own way. Lance's is hidden under a leather blazer that should take advantage of its highly flammable nature. Both JC's and Chris' are too fitted and ribbed, but Chris' eggplant color is more redeeming than JC's camel shade. As expected, Justin's sweater is the clear winner for its marled and cabled texture and its loose fit in the neck and shoulders. We should've been able to tell that JT would go solo based on his turtleneck taste alone. 

Linkin'

Okay peeps.

My blogue was chosen to be included in the Independent Fashion Bloggers (it's a thing, IFB of the world, #unite) Thursday blog round up. It's all very exciting and I hardly know how to celebrate, but whatever festivities I may have planned will be overshadowed by my #bday tomorrow. Part of the deal is that I have to post links to the 19 other blogs that were selected because crazy traffic-inducing things happen on the back-end when you link to other sites.

Serious disclaimer: I was not involved in curatorial duties for this shiz, so I do not know what those links lead to.

Oh, obvi gotta mention that my #WINNING POST was on JFK being a style icon.

Truly Gifted

It's somehow sad that Thanksgiving always gets the shaft for the holidays. Not as much fun as Halloween, not as much religious/global/ gifting/commercial opportunity as Christmas/Hanukkah/etc... But alas, we're all caught up in the holidays in the blogosphere. Between the gifts, the celebrations, the reflection of the year that's about to end, there's so much ground to cover! This week, we have a delightful round of holiday inspired posts to get you thinking about the rest of the year. Believe it or not... we don't have that much time left.

Links à la Mode: November 21

• Attire Club: A Guide To Creating A Lasting And Money-Saving Wardrobe
• Beauty and Sass: wrap your holiday look with these makeup color trends
• Beautify My Life: 10 alternatives to the basic cotton camisole
• Carly Tati: 70 holiday 2013 makeup palettes gift guide
• DeSmitten: DIY Celine Triangle Clutch
• DressCode:HighFashion: Charlotte Olympia`s Archie Comics Collection
• Fat in the City: My Love Affair With Blazers
• Fin & Foxtail: Gift Guide: How to Shop for Gifts at the Thrift Store
• Katie Like Me: How to Style Eyelet Dresses
• Kiri Yanchenko: Do It Yourself Popping Prints
• Metallic Paws: Making Work Outfits Fashionable
• Miss Monet: Style Inspiration: Ladies Who Lace
• Savagem: What does Transparency mean to you?
• Style Bizarre: 8 Things You Can Do To Feel Better Right Now
• Style Vanity: 15 Iconic Shoes of 2013
• The 11th Thread Blog: Thanksgiving Table DIY
• The Channeling Board: .John F. Kennedy: A Style Icon
• The Neon Blonde: How to wear denim on denim like it ain't no thing
• Trend Survivor: London Shopping and the Christmas Spirit
• We Are Ready Made: No Gender is the Future

SPONSOR: EastDane, SW3, Ad, Paige Novick, Kate Spade NY, Otte, Kismet Milka, Bill Amberg, Ben Minkoff, & Outsiders, DeSpain, Sarah Magid

The Time I Bought Men's Jeans

As Calculus talk goes, functions can have both local minimums and local maximums, as well as absolute minimums and absolute maximums. My friends like to take these terms and apply them to real-life situations. For example: "Omg, he completely snubbed me, whatta local min." Or this: "Guys, I just ate 12 donuts. Absolute minimum."

There's a fine line between what distinguishes a situation as a local vs. absolute minimum, and since I don't think of myself as a drama queen, I'm going to classify the multiple trips that I made to the Gap in the past 24 hours as a cumulative local minimum.

The Gap is right next to the subway that I take home from work. Every day I pass by the windows and think: a) I'm ethnic enough to have been a Gap kids model in my #youth, b) I could really use another oversized men's sweater. Usually I don't go in because I'm busy jamming to Robyn on my iPod and wondering what vegetables my mom is steaming for dinner, but yesterday I decided to stop in because I heard 'Bleeding Love' playing in the store and I really like 'Bleeding Love.'

Once inside, I was reminded about how much the Gap makes me want to wear striped scarves and buy my family Christmas gifts. I had drifted into the men's section to look for oversized sweaters when I came across a pair of men's jeans for $10.97.

"Gold mine!" I said to the petite man standing across the sale rack from me. I took the conversation inside my head and thought about how creatively cutting edge I'd be if I bought a pair of pants from the men's section instead of paying for "boyfriend" jeans from the women's section. Why spend $59.50 when you can spend $10.97, amirite?

I was too embarrassed to try the pants on and I had to get home to catch the aforementioned vegetables while they were still hot. I took the pants to the register, where five Gap employees rescanned the item number so they could find the same pair of magical sale pants. Anything for a sale, we all agreed.

When I tried the pants on in the comfort of my overheated bedroom last night, they wouldn't zip. My self-esteem balloon deflated in approximately two seconds. Yes, my mom's vegetable medley was more fibrous than usual, but these pants were way too small.

I went back to the Gap to return the pants this afternoon, but the salesperson (one of the five friends I made last night) explained that since they were final sale, I couldn't return them. I couldn't even get store credit. And I thought the Gap always gave store credit.

So, I'm stuck with a pair of men's pants. I'd save them for my future boyfriend (creepy), but I could never date someone who wore a smaller pant size than me.

Eff this. Whatta local min.

Cars as Coats, Coats as Cars

A couple of years ago, my friend and I went on a romantic two-day trip to Venice. We had snagged a four star hotel room for 90 euro per night that came with plushy robes, which we wore while we ate Magnum ice cream bars and taught ourselves how to mix Adele and Glee on Garage Band (you can listen to the final products here. Disclaimer: your ears will bleed). This introduction has nothing to do with the rest of the post, except to note that I once went to Venice for two days, where I noticed that everyone and his mother (but, actually) wore a Moncler jacket.

My Venetian-tripping friend and I spent a good portion of our time discussing where we would eat next and why everyone seemingly had a Moncler jacket. It didn't make sense. Surely, if Italy is in the economic crisis in which Angela Merkel et al. claims it to be, most of the Italians mazing through Venice couldn't afford a Moncler jacket. So we formulated a theory.

Most Americans consider cars to be status symbols. For those of us who don't live in this ratty (ha!) concrete jungle, the car that you drive is an extension of yourself. Kanye West sums up this American car-as-a-status-symbol theory pretty well: "What you think I rap for, to push a fucking Rav-4?" I take a little offense to this because I used to drive a red Rav-4, but back to Moncler jackets.

In Venice, people don't consider cars to be status symbols. If you don't have to drive anywhere, why would you waste your money on a nice car when nobody can see it? (This isn't my view, I'm just sayin'). The thing that people always see is your chosen piece of outerwear. So it only makes sense in the status-seekers eye that wearing a nice coat implies that you can afford a nice coat, so in short--you've made it. “Debt? What debt? I’m wearing Moncler. It’s shiny.” That's why everyone has a Moncler jacket in Venice.

I can't really remember what the point of this post was supposed to be, but I think it had something to do with me waking up this morning and thinking how much I wanted a light down coat, so I thought of Moncler. But here's what I want to know: are they really warmer than Uniqlo's ultra light down coat? Why buy one Moncler jacket when you can buy ten Uniqlo jackets? That's shallow. I hate myself.

Trendy Sweatpants

Thanksgiving is fast approaching, which means that it's time to broach the subject of elastic waistbands, and more specifically, sweatpants.

I cahn't believe I haven't let my incongruent thoughts flow on the topic of trendy sweatpants yet. I should've done it a couple of weeks ago when one of my friends called on me to find her a pair of neutral-colored, tapered-optional lounge pants. I found a pair from Free People, and I've yet to be reimbursed with the glass of wine-as-payment that was promised. That's okay, the same friend gave me a leopard print dress of hers without me sacrificing anything from my own closet last April, so I think we're even.

I've had a thing for trendy sweatpants since (ugh, here I go again), I went to France when I was 18. The French lycéens who me and my American friends paired ourselves up with in our week-long school exchange taught us three things I'll never forget: one can never wear too much bronzer (debatable), faux fur and pleather are wardrobe essentials, and there is such a thing as trendy sweatpants.

To the French girls, fashionable lounge pants equaled Adidas track pants, which looked really good on them and really bad on me. One of the girls had a pair of neon green track pants with baby blue stripes, which she wore with white canvas sneakers and a baby blue t-shirt. In retrospect, I see how this outfit can be construed as the fugliest thing ever, but at the time, I couldn't imagine my life progressing without a pair of brightly colored Adidas track pants. I got a pair of baby blue ones with white stripes and tried to wear them with different combinations of shoes and t-shirts but nothing clicked. I retired them for good after wearing them with chestnut Uggs. Brutal.

I made another attempt at trendy sweatpants a few years ago after seeing a cuffed heather gray pair from H&M. They were on sale, so I bought them. A couple of hours into the first wear, the fabric had stretched out to give me a very embarrassing case of dumpy butt. My friends noticed it before I did and proceeded to sing Prince Ali whenever I walked by because my trendy sweatpants had reincarnated themselves as Aladdin pants.

After two failed attempts to pull off sweatpants in a non-couch setting, I've given up. I can only hope that the pair that I found for my friend see her off with more luck.