I hate when Blogger doesn't upload photos, especially on those days when you blew your last wad of cash on some amazing shirts (7 tops for $7, y'all!) and increased the quantity of black crewneck shirts/sweaters/just tops in general, y'all know what I mean, and ALSO got some madly needed color into your regrettably New-Yorker-pretension-inspired-neutral-colored wardrobe. Or on those days when you bought the first piece of lingerie-inspired everydaywear that you would actually consider wearing every day. Or when you've been re-reading the archives of Trashforce Reaper just because you can--and screw financial aid meetings and homework and rehearsal and freaking out about your impossibly hot acting teacher who thinks you're a huge fuckup--and, as a result, writing like a crazed cynical demonic gerbil on crack and quaaludes and all those things that people worried about in teen paperbacks published in 1995.
Anyway, after two fervent and wholehearted attempts at uploading photos (and you have to understand, these are some of the most perfect basics I've bought since this one misguided attempt back in June), I'm just going to ramble, and you're going to LIKE IT, BITCHES, because I'll reward you with some very rewarding links that haven't yet been put up on my list to the immediate right. Come to think of it, I probably won't add these links to the list on the right until about a week from now, because that would make this post pretty much obsolete, amirite? But of course, these are merely things other people have raved the shit out of on their own blogs, so this post may as well be obsolete, but let's consider it more of "a Jungian dip into the collective unconscious of fashion blogging" rather than "plugging the same wonderfully amazing shit that errbody and their regrettably style-unconscious mothers knows about". (P.S. My mother is super style-conscious, and is the happy exception to this rule. Can't wait to come back and dress you, Mater!)
SO. LET THE LINKAGE BEGIN.
1. Cheap JAP.
Amazing woman. What the hell. Why did I not discover her until about a week ago? Her thrifty cunning is well-nigh unmatchable, although I like to think I've matched it with my constant visits to Monk's Dollar rack (OH WAIT, did I happen to mention 7 shirts for $7, y'all?! WHAT NOW)(and hmm, maybe I forgot to mention that I picked up a 3/4 sleeve Banana Republic jacket for ONE DOLLA MAKE U HOLLA)(and maybe the cowlnecked sweaterdress, and the H&M polo that fits like a glove, and the Free People duster, and and and and etc.). H'anyway. She's amazing. Her style's nostalgic without old-fashioned, sexy without slutty, and DIY without messy. Luv it.
2. Garance Dore.
Oh come on, people. I can't NOT post about one of the greatest streetstyle bloggers of all time, who also happens to be smokin' hot but French enough to stay classy and demure even while not wearing pants? What a woman. Also, she's dating The Sartorialist (no need for linking in-post, just look slightly to your right), who is rather a hot hunk of mankind himself. QUELLE FUCKING BADASS. Pardon my French.
3. Trashforce Reaper (look up for the link, you lazy ass).
Basically, the person who I'm trying to write like/stalking now. She's hovering around somewhere inside that smoky-drinky-poor as fucky-but totally irresistible social circle that includes such gems as Kirsty Lee of That's Just My Vibe (now moved to Howl), Sandy, and Sanna. Aka all the people whose blogs I secretly lurk on and never comment on or follow because one, I have no idea how to use blogroll, and two, I'd feel too much like a poser following them around trying to absorb some of their innate cool through my lame boring American pores. WANT. SO HARDCORE. Even more irresistible because I have no idea what she looks like (though I did find one picture of her on somebody's blog covering her face and so I know she's a redhead with big eyes) and because her name is Philipa. COME ON.
Yeah, it's a short list, but that last one actually included like three other people so that should satisfy y'all. I'm off to eat Pork Sung and listen to Death Cab for Cutie.
P.S. Pork Sung is like dried meat, but it's dried in such a way that it's fuzzy. Nobody I room with likes it except for me and the girl who brought the enormous fucking jar into the dorm in the first place. I need to pay her back, because I've probably eaten about half the damn thing. As well as all her dumplings. In fact, I've pretty much eaten all my roomies' food. Such is the life of having no spendin' munies, except for that $7 which I was saving for a special occasion and just ended up blowing on moar clothing. I'M SO COOL.