Candy Corn

Dress (Plenty by Tracy Reese via Anthropologie - so old, similar here, here, and here), Blazer (Forever 21, similar here), Shoes (Zara - old, similar here, and here), Necklace (Dogeared)

Ages ago, back when I was a certified Anthroholic, daily I would pour over the Anthropologie website with a kind of diligence and devotion found mostly only in crazies—Mel Gibson in Conspiracy Theory status. I would chuckle to myself as I read the names of their cleverly-titled wares, with their obscure Art Historical and cultural references, and their expanded color palette (e.g. "Marpesia Kimono Blouse" and "Cerulean Dream Dress"). The fittingness of these names was undeniable (if you understood the references), but at times the copy could get exhausting—SOMETIMES YOU JUST WANNA SHOP WITHOUT A HISTORY LESSON—and slightly full of itself. Not to mention, no one would ever look at your blouse and be like, "Mmm that shirt...it's so fabulous...it's sooo...ancient-Greek-Mythological-co-ruling-sister-Queen-of-the-Amazon!" "I know, right?!" Whatever.

Anyway, this dress was appropriately named "The Candy Corn Shift," and the funny thing is, every time I wear it—and I mean every time—at least one person who is not my sister says to me (unprompted), "You look like candy corn!" which I always take as a compliment, rightly or wrongly. And I smile, because that random copywriter intern working for Anthro's website 4 years ago decided to call this dress what she did for whatever reason, and people everywhere, ever since then, seem to agree with her decision. I just find that kind of amusing. It's a stupid story, but it's the story of this dress, so there you have it.

C.R.E.A.M.

Gurrrl, lemme tell you...

Don't make a habit of crossing the street with your eyes closed.

T-Shirt (Urban Outfitters, you're welcome), Pants (Free People - old, similar here), Shoes (Zara, similar here), Watch (Marc by Marc Jacobs), Necklace (Dogeared), Bracelets (Madewell and Asos - old, similar here and here) 

Cash (really does) rule everything around me, guys. The mantra still holds true, even off of the streets of Staten Island, and in the manicured meeting rooms and mansions of Silicon Valley and San Francisco (especially if you let it...which I do). But we're not here to talk about real estate trends or per capita income statistics. We're here to talk about t-shirts.

My sister will tell you that I am slowly, but surely, trying to take over the world one cheeky t-shirt at a time, but I see my t-shirt domination as slightly more localized than that. I'd rather just rule the room I'm in, or the sidewalk I'm on. Nothing major.

My obsession with t-shirts has grown steadily over the last couple years, as designers have begun to incorporate the tried-and-true basic more and more into their collections in new and exciting ways, and as bloggers and street style stars have begun to creatively posit the t-shirt more and more as an outfit focal point.

This is all great. But you have to remember you can't just wear these guys willy nilly. Their simplicity requires that there be some forethought, some personal meaning and contextual consideration behind your t-shirt decision. (Yes, I just said that.) With the bazillions of random and more often than not annoying t-shirts that are out there now, it's easy to throw one on because you think it "looks cool" or "sounds cool" and end up looking like a douchebag (if I see one more "Keep Calm and something something" or "Frankie Says some bullshit" t-shirt on one more self-important, clueless teenager, I'm going to scrape my eyeballs out with my fingernails...and what I mean by that is really I'll probably just brood and stew silently beside them and throw shade so hard my face will hurt). So choose your t-shirt wisely and deliberately and probably don't buy it if you don't know who Eazy-E is.

So let's talk about this awesome t-shirt. My romance with rap is a (relatively speaking) longstanding one—trust me, I do not even try to pretend like this makes me any less of a princess from the 'burbs because it does not—and at the top of my list of lovers is The Wu-Tang Clan, with "C.R.E.A.M." sitting resolutely atop my list of all-time favorite tracks, ever. So when I saw this shirt, the desire that rushed through me was so immediate and all-consuming that I had made the purchase before my mind even had a chance to catch up with my hands. And despite the fact that the sight of this shirt on a Disney cartoon look-alike in 5-inch heels, with Shirley Temple hair and chicken arms probably makes most people laugh or think that I'm wearing it ironically or maybe also makes them feel sorry for me, I find myself unable to muster up the energy to care. They don't get it and they don't have to. Because I'm kicking their ass in the secret sidewalk t-shirt battle they don't know we're having anyway.

Photos © Rose Garrett

Chiquita Banana

Toro! Toro! Toro!

I die.

Dress (Unknown SF brand via Anthropologie - old, similar here, here, and here), Tuxedo Jacket (Mango, similar here), SHOES! (Zara - face is melting, similar here), Necklace (Dogeared) 

Remember THIS SITUATION? 

Well I bought those Zara mothers. I bought the shit out of them. 

And after only two wears, they've already paid for themselves in gaspy, excited compliments courtesy of passersby. They are indeed a bold statement, but one that must be made. 

And with this dress? Forget about it. With pieces that are this Carmen-Miranda-y, separately and together, the tux jacket plays an important role here. Not only does it highlight the black and the white in the shoes, and tie it all together top-to-bottom, but it also serves as a crisp, calming force that balances out the look and keeps things in check. Also, I just plain love a good tuxedo jacket. 

There isn't really much more to say because the shoes say it all, and then some. All that can really be said is that it's wearing this pair of shoes when I feel most like myself. 

Photos © Rose Garrett

Pinafore

Disney princess band-aid serving as leg swag here. 

Diaper butt.

UNIONBAY, ladies.

Overall Dress (Vintage UNIONBAY from Urban Outfitters, similar here), Blouse (Topshop - old, similar here), Shoes (Zara, similar here and here), Watch (Marc by Marc Jacobs), Necklace (Dogeared), Bracelets (Madewell and Asos - old, similar here and here) 

With the resurgence in the popularity of overalls this Spring has also come a resurgence in the popularity of all things that even remotely resemble a pair of overalls i.e. overall dresses, pinafores, rompers, jumpsuits, and the like.

That's where shrewd and ready-to-pounce retailers like Urban Outfitters (I've got nothing but love for you guys, I promise) come in to prey on our nostalgic propensities (in particular our intense and often flighty love of brands we used to wear when we were kids; for me this is UNIONBAY. See also: Lee, Doc Martens, Hush Puppies, ESPRIT...) and our tendency to call shit from 15 years ago "Vintage" so that they may rummage through the trillions of tons of Goodwill reject denim to bring us something like this little number at probably 5 times the price of what it would and should cost. (Urban, I told you! Nothing but love.)

Oh and best believe that shit worked on me like a charm. A refitted and resewn pair of "vintage" UNIONBAY overalls, hastily stitched as a dress and remarketed to me as a hip collector's piece for 50 bucks? SOLD. I most likely bought back the exact pair I owned in 2nd Grade, the pair I so vehemently discarded and banished to the Goodwill gods a few years later because HELLO, I WAS STARTING 6TH GRADE and UNIONBAY is obviously for babies, only now there's 3 feet less fabric along with no crotch, and my mom didn't buy these for me...and I'm totally fine with it.

But we're not talking about overalls, here. We're talking about pinafores. An entirely different beast. Suffice it to say that the last time I wore an actual pinafore I was most likely in OshKosh and finger painting. Because who wears pinafores in their adult life anyway? A lot of people actually. And that's because our moms knew what they were doing when they were buying our kinder-wear—those mofos are CUTE. Kyoot.

I've come a long way since my OshKosh-B'gosh-wearing-days, but I think Kindergarten Me would have appreciated this look (and my Disney princess band-aid).

Photos © Rose Garrett

Ziggy Stardust Goes to a Garden Party

Jacket (Zara, similar here), Dress (Moulinette Soeurs via Anthropologie - old, similar here and here), Shoes (Trouve, similar here and here), Necklace (Dogeared)

In addition to prints and martinis, next on the list of things I like to mix is well, stuff that typically isn't mixed. No, that doesn't mean pickles and peanut butter (although I might try that); it means mixing things like a silver leather biker jacket and a flouncy, floral tea dress.

This is not groundbreaking of course. Countless numbers of fabulous, ballsy women have been making these kinds of stylistic choices for eons - Iris Apfel, Debbie Harry, and Leandra Medine (Man Repeller) just to name a few in no particular order.

I don't presume to place myself anywhere in or near the same ranks as the likes of these ladies, however, that spirit of experimentation and the penchant for provacation are things that we share. 

You don't need a lot of working parts in an outfit like this (contrary to what I might otherwise argue) because the pieces each say so much on their own that some of the impact might be lost if you got carried away and started piling more and more on; all of the signals would get crossed and you'd end up with a jumbly, confused mess and the statement-making loudness would just turn into muffled jibberish. That's why the whole of this outfit is greater than the sum of its parts. That is, taken together, these pieces make an outfit that does all the talking for you without being overwhelming. The statement may be a little loud, sure—I'd argue NOT—but it's clear, and more importantly, it's interesting. And that is above all, what style (no matter what your style) should be, should it not?

When in doubt, just ask yourself: "What would Bowie wear?...(to a garden party)."

Photos © Rose Garrett