A month or so ago, I popped into Hamlet’s Vintage – purveyor of the offensive $15 beat-up tee – on a mission: I needed tall, black, flat boots. Again.

In the past year alone, I have gone through not one, not two, but THREE PAIRS of tall flat black boots. When I say “gone through” I don’t mean I’ve lost them or damaged them: I’ve simply worn them out.

Maybe today’s footwear isn’t tough enough for the city’s mean streets; maybe I tend to stomp aggressively instead of tread lightly; maybe I have a slight Napoleon complex. Whatever. I was cast as the elephant in a childhood zoo-themed ballet production; it’s not like I’m morphing into some dainty graceful creature anytime soon.

It’s not like I haven’t tried to extend the lifespan of my last three pairs of tall black flat boots. All Dr. Cobbler does is prolong the inevitable: There is no chocolate coated miracle pill for bringing dead shoes back to life. At least, not after I’ve worn them.

When my last pair expired, I vowed to do things differently. THIS TIME, I would purchase boots constructed to withstand destruction; boots that looked at the subway grime and grey clotted snow and toxic puddles and scoffed ‘BRING IT ON.’

So I popped into Hamlet’s Vintage, discovered they were having a sale, zeroed in on a pair of tall flat black riding boots, paid their $110 sale price (not great, not awful) and thought it’d be smooth sailing from there.

The boots have been kicking my ass ever since.

The issue isn’t strength or durability – old school riding boots are built for post-apocalyptic conditions. The problem is that they’re designed to “follow your body’s contours” i.e. suffocate the lower halves of your legs so you look as though you’re one with the horse or whatever.

Well WHAT IF THERE IS NO FUCKING HORSE?

Then you wear them out for an hour and realize your feet are numb and your ankles are blistered because leather of this thickness and stiffness doesn’t even exist anymore and your entire lower legs, from knee to big toe are screaming in shock and protest. Then you go get Toughstrips Band-AIDs and they don’t work, so you try moleskin, except instead of putting it on your feet, you use it to line the interior of the boot for permanent padding. This makes wearing the riding boots bearable, and after three weeks of continuous battle, they finally start to soften and give. Then, and ONLY THEN, can you be pleased with the purchase you made one month ago. This is where I find myself today.

So, how’d my mother beat me at my own game? Check this Sharesies! courtesy of Mom herself:

Dear Cheap JAP,

I couldn’t resist sharing my fabulous good fortune with you.

Found these custom “Made in England” gems at my local shoe repair for $25.00!!!

They’d been sitting there for 3 weeks waiting patiently for their rightful new owner; yet unfortunately, every lady who tried to slip into them was immediately met with the sore disappointment of an unforgiving narrow leg. The couple who own the shoe repair aptly named them the “Cinderella” boot.

And so, in my fifty-first year the heady OOMF I received, when pray-tell they exclaimed, “you’re ‘Cinderella!’” led me straight to the decision to dress up as Betty Draper at the Mad Men Soiree I would attend on Saturday night.

And she lived, happily ever after.

Best Always,
Mother

Too cute. So cute in fact, that I’m almost not bitter at her snagging a pair identical to my $110.00 riding boots for $25.00. Almost.

Just kidding. She got me into riding boots to begin with; I got her into shopping cheap. That makes it a fair trade, methinks.

Way to go, Mom. Thanks for sharing.

I recently had an interaction that proved our gender is not nearly as bitchy as we’re conditioned to believe. Before I tell this warm and fuzzy story, let’s get the administrative shiznat outta the way.

ADMIN BIZNASS: I probs look like quite the hack right now, what with the lack of regular posts and all. Rest assured that I’m working on something guaranteed to imbue your shopping experiences with joy for years to come – something tailored to your comments, likes, dislikes and general needs. The SURVEY so many of you already responded to has proven uber helpful in this vein – muchos muchos grazias mi amigas.

(Those of you who haven’t yet filled one out are still obvs invited to do so: Just copy/paste the questions into an email, fill in your responses, and shoot it to cheapjap@gmail.com, along with your FIRST NAME, AGE, OCCUPATION and LOCATION. That last part’s in all-caps because I forgot to mention it first time around. Ooooopsies.)

Now, for the warm and fuzzy story.

Scenario: Lower East Side dive Max Fish @ 1am Sunday morning.

Inner Monologue: I’m out because my BF’s Texas relatives are in town, and it is my girlfriendly duty to help him entertain. But it’s cold and I’m tired and I shouldn’t be playing chess until 3am multiple nights a week – no, what I REALLY shouldn’t be doing is pretending I want to be out when I’m effing exhausted – whatever, none if it matters. One more hour and I can go home. It could be worse – I could be surrounded by bitchy women.

Cut to: Two super-cute girls periodically glancing in my direction and whispering to each other.

Really? REALLY???!!!

On the surface, it looks like these girls are trash-talking me – that was certainly my assumption at the time. In the past, I would have unleashed my death glare on them, and that would have been it. I’ve got a little more hope for humanity these days, so I did my best to curb the bitchface. Instead, I shot a non-invasive glance back. A small ‘Hello’ in the form of a facial expression, if you will.

Then, the unthinkable happened: The three of us became friends.

One of the girls smiled in response to my glance, grabbed my arm, and yanked me into the convo. The following ensued:

G1: I think we have the same shirt!
CJ: That’s all you were saying?! Phew! I thought…
G2: You thought we were trash talking – we weren’t!
G1: I totally knew what it it looked like, which is why I grabbed you when you looked over!
CJ: Thanks so much for clarifying, seriously. I thought I was about to have a really bad night.

A comparison of pinstriped button-downs ensued, followed by an in-depth analysis of Banana Republic vs. Uniqlo +J, followed by a collective assessment of both brands as good, but kinda overpriced. This prompted some healthy kvetching on overpriced clothing in general.

G1: The Barney’s Warehouse Sale, what’s your take?
CJ: Hell on Earth!
G2: I know! It’s like a picture of women at their worst.

We bonded over shopping tips and fashion quips for the bulk of an hour; contact info was exchanged, as were girl-crush hugs and air-kisses. I left the bar that night with two new, genuinely nice buddies and something else too: An understanding of how what we put out there affects what we get back.

Girls you don’t know are only your enemies if you view them as such. Give them the benefit of the doubt by not being on the defensive, and who knows? They might just turn out to be your allies.

We’re all in this together. Kumbaya, beotches.

Mmkay, so, where basic tees and tops are concerned, the quality and trend-factor of Alternative Apparel’s obvs on par with American Apparel. The problemo? Some of the styles cost upwards of $50 a pop. NOT COOL.

Yes, they go on sale and yes, Buffalo Exchange usually has some old Alternative inventory priced in the fifteen dollar range, but what if you’re super impatient and you want a current style for less circa NOW???

Let’s answer that question with another question: Did you know you can snag current Alternative Apparel styles at wholesale prices? Did you know it was possible to pay wholesale cost WITHOUT buying in bulk? Me neither… until I discovered a few wholesale t-shirt sites that (a) carry current Alternative Apparel styles and (b) don’t require you to purchase en masse. Bulk Wholesale Tees and gotapparel.com are my latest discoveries, and hot diggity DAMN, am I smitten! (Both sites carry American Apparel too – if only we’d known before the boycott! Sighs.)

Observe the below Retail vs. Wholesale comparisons. Retail pics on right, Wholesale pics on left. Visually identical, with one glaring difference – the left side pics cost a fraction of what you’d normally pay.

The Burnout Tunic

Retail: $38.00

Wholesale: $10.44

The Organic A-Line V-Neck

Retail: $32.00

Wholesale: $9.67

The Debbie Tee

Retail: $32.00
Wholesale: $10.32

Sidebar: Isn’t it refreshing to see women modeling t-shirts without looking like they’re competing in a wet t-shirt contest? Yes. Yes it is.

Because equating femininity with crotch shots and blowjob faces is, like, so last season.

TAKE BACK THE GENDER. BOYCOTT AA.

After you’ve joined the Facebook Movement Against American Apparel-clad T&A, feel free to create your own versions of the propaganda below.

And, just for fun, let’s compare/contrast some dude responses to my I-AM-WOMAN roars:

In response to The Slut Jig is Up, Jordan wrote:

so marry me please. i actually can not STAND what american apparel ads do to the status of women as consumers and as human beings. please post the link to the facebook campaign when you have it up and going, i will invite ALL of my friends.

What a dollface. Do we love him? Yes we do. Onto Matthew:

first-world, middle class, 1990s feminism.

Really, dude? Your misogyny isn’t offensive so much as predictably uncreative. You can get the fuck off my blog now.

So. I’m cooking dinner the other night for me and my BF, and I’m wearing American Apparel leggings and a top that doesn’t entirely cover my bum. He notes that I’ve got a cute butt for the nine thousandth time, and I’m flattered for the nine thousandth time, and it’s all couple-y and cute and nice. It’s not like he’s some random dude on the internet ogling my goodies under the guise of a “contest” – that would be creepy and weird.

Apparently, the entrants in  American Apparel’s Best Bottom Contest don’t feel the same way.

Firstly: let’s talk about the media’s treatment of a contest that reeks of female objectification (i.e. American Apparel’s other area of expertise). NBC’s The Thread’s coverage consisted of a cutesy title (Push for Tush…eew) and a regurgitated press release. Viralogy used the competition as a Social Media Case Study. Aside from the Tennessee Guerilla Women, no one else said boo. Another instance of American Apparel’s pushing the sex-and- body-consciousness envelope is old news… isn’t it?

Sexing up the average tee or tank is a brilliant marketing tool, particularly when you’ve got ethical manufacturing practices to fall back on. Bring on the come-hither eyes, the crotch shots, the nipple flashes, the blow job faces – as long as the chicks are in sweatshop-free clothes (or lack thereof), a morally questionable portrayal of women ain’t no thang. The ads obvs don’t do much to bolster feminine self-esteem, but that doesn’t necessarily mean they denigrate it either. If you want to argue that American Apparel ads have real-life consequences – that they result in a girl’s valuing her T&A over her I (her self, her intellect – take your pick) – you need evidence.

Evidence like the one thousand, one hundred and two women who’ve slapped their almost-naked asses online in hopes of becoming America’s Next Top Butt.

The Search for the Best Bottom in America isn’t a traditional AA ad campaign – it’s worse. This isn’t the brand objectifying women. This is women choosing to objectify themselves. American Apparel’s ads are designed to make us feel prude, to make us feel like we need to loosen up, to make us think that maybe if we weren’t so modest, guys would be as turned on by us as they seem to be by the girls in the campaigns. They make us forget everything that makes us more than the sum of our superficial parts.

American Apparel ads strip women of more than their clothes – they strip them of their humanity. They make it seem okay to let your American Apparel undie-clad ass define all that you are. The ads aren’t going to change any time soon. What has to change first is our response to them: We have to stop believing what they imply.

My lust for leggings is strong, but not as strong as my desire to stop being framed as a hipster slut, which is what I’m starting to feel like every single time I don a pair from AA.

If we want to be thought of as anything other than casual sex objects, we have to stop giving this brand permission to frame us in that context. How do we take back the gender? We pull the money plug. From this day on, I will not fund any more of this nonsense.

Want to join me? Stay tuned for a link to the Facebook Campaign. (Also for brand alternatives to AA. If we’re going to quit the line cold turkey, we need to find well-priced basics elsewhere: They will be our Nicorette.)

TAKE BACK THE GENDER – BOYCOTT AA.

I jacked this belt from an old Bogner Snow Suit of mi madre’s.

Attics are stellar resources for unconventional accessories.
(DSquared blazer, $16.00 @ Chelsea Goodwill.

This morning, I set out on a Google quest. Objective: To attain a general understanding of vintage price points in order to calculate the extent to which NYC-metro-based vintage rips off those who purchase it. This lead to a ‘wholesale vintage’ search, which affirmed my suspicions. More on that later, for the ‘wholesale’ component yielded something far more interesting than low prices for old clothes in bulk: It led me to liquidation.com, where the following shocking discoveries were made. Get ready to be DISGUSTED.

Liquidation.com auctions leftovers from the world’s largest retailers in bulk. The site divides electronics, housewares, cleaning products, children’s toys, books, auto parts – basically anything you could ever conceive of buying – into lots and sells them en masse to the highest bidder. Starting bid’s usually around $200.00. Let’s take a look at what’s for sale in Women’s Clothing and Accessories.

Authentic Coach/Dooney Bourke/Guess and More
Number of Units: 30
Current Bid: $387.00
Per-Unit Price: $12.90

Now, wait, this is confusing. How is it that THIRTY BAGS costing $100-$300 EACH get sold in bulk for a total cost of $387.00? Don’t retailers lose money by selling the bags at a per-item price of $12.90? I don’t have enough hard evidence to say NO, but my hunch is that those bags probably cost LESS than $12.90 a pop to make; a $100-plus retail price means that if they don’t sell new at full price, at 50% off, or at Filene’s Basement, they can be liquidated all the way down to $13 bucks a pop and still net someone a profit, because they still cost more than they’re worth.

I tried to upload one of the photos accessorizing this particular lot – a picture of a $268 tag attached to a new Coach bag. No dice, understandably so; the jackholes at Coach, Guess and Dooney & Bourke can’t have that shit getting out. Well fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck theeeeeem.

Addendum: The photo hath been snagged in smaller form. Observe:

Barf.

My jaw hit the floor when I learned of Alexander McQueen’s passing earlier today. Sad stuff. I’ve ripped on the McQueen’s price points in the past, but I can’t knock his talent – he pushed the envelope, and it made him one of the greats.

McQueen’s runway collections were more fantasy than reality but he did some fab, everyday Western garb too. The below would pair nicely with the leather fringe-infused cowboy chaps I found yesterday in my mom’s closet (I’m currently dogsitting for the parentals in Jersey).

Read more »

My extensive bitching last week re: astronomically overpriced vintage prompted the following anonymous comment:

You want THE BEST vintage in the city, I’ve got the place/s for you. Run, do not walk to Park Slope to visit a few places:

1. Odd Twin on the corner of Lincoln Place and 5th Avenue AND
2. Yona Lee Vintage store on 5th Avenue between Lincoln and Berkeley Place.
3. If you’re feelin’ it, a stop into the smaller than Williamsburg, but also great Beacon’s Closet in Park Slope at 5th Avenue and Warren Street. All are within a 5 minute walk of each other.

Prices are 1/3 what they are in Manhattan and the selection at both Odd Twin and Yona Lee are fantastic!!

I used to live two blocks away from Beacon’s Closet’s Park Slope location (which has it all over their Williamsburg store, BTdubs – a pared-down selection means it’s not nearly as overwhelming as its warehouse-esque hipster-riddled counterpart). I figured if she shopped Beacon’s, she knew what she was talking about, so I took anonymous’s advice and checked out her recs. They were SPOT ON. First round of kvelling goes to Yona Lee Vintage: This shop seriously blew my mind.

Yona Lee’s got a thing for 60s and 70s-era stock and MAN, does she know her stuff. The store has a boutique-y feel, fab retro decor, an abundance of flower-child fabulosity, and it boasts some of the most amazing clothes I’ve ever seen.

One of my beefs with vintage is its costume-y component; I appreciate authenticity but not at the expense of versatility. Yona Lee’s stock manages to achieve both – it’s vintage with a sprinkling of modernity. Or something. The best part? The bulk of the goods are under $100. Check it:

Canvas Flight Bag – $45.00; Leather Carryall – $85.00.

Patchwork Skirt, $65.00 (effing amazing, I didn’t buy it and I’m kicking myself – I hope it’s there when I go back); Peacock Print Maxidress, $120.00; Graphic Print Floaty Dress, $85ish; Plaid Trousers, $65ish (brain fart on the prices of those last two – apologies).

Corduroy Blazer, $45.00; Suede Purse, $90.00 (and TO DIE! You should see this thing up close – the detail is SICK); Vintage Yves Saint Laurent Sheer Print Blouse, $120.00 (so stunning, it almost justifies the price…almost, muhaha).

I realize most of the merch pictured is only under $100 in the technical sense. I snapped based on WOW-factor, but the average cost of what’s pictured is significantly higher than the store’s norm. Rest assured there’s a ton of blouses @ $28, blazers @ $45 and bags @ $40.

If you’re in the area, Yona Lee is a must must MUST. Fab stuff, genuinely nice staff and a cozy seating area complete with dude-friendly reading material (drag your boyfriend along, and he can ogle the fifties-era PLAYBOYS while you browse to your heart’s content).

Thank you anonymous!

Last week, the Financial Times explored Sustainable Fashion and actually had the cojones to ask “What does green mean?”

Green means eco chic! Green means good for the earth! Green means organic hemp cotton tees made from soda can tabs, which are like so hot right now for Spring! Or something.

At a Copenhagen conference designed to promote fashion’s environmental agenda, it’s unsurprising that the question “How do you define sustainable fashion?” came up. What was shocking were the responses. Let’s just say they were colorful, if not concrete:

Quality items that stand the test of time… a timeless handbag that you wear again and again, and can pass on… – Frida Giannini, Creative Director of Gucci

… a commitment to the traditional techniques, and not just the art, of making clothes. I work today in the same way that I first learnt in the ateliers of Balenciaga and Lanvin 50 years ago…clothes that are not only beautiful but extremely well made. – Oscar de la Renta

… locally sourced materials that don’t pollute in their creation or demise (preferably recycled) and with limited transportation to achieve the completed product. – Anya Hindmarch

… sustainable fashion is a contradiction in terms. It refers to how the fabric used for a new garment has been produced … I believe, we need to consider this issue from a more macro and profound perspective. Though a cotton may be unbleached, we need to examine how it arrives to the manufacturer or to us the wearer. What was the ‘carbon imprint’ of its delivery, for example? – Dries van Noten

At first glance, it seems like no one has any effing idea what they’re talking about. Giannini ignores the question altogether and defines ‘investment piece’ instead; de la Renta gives a nostalgic diatribe on the history of couture. Hindmarch kinda gets it, but fails to pinpoint the kinds of materials that don’t pollute in their creation or demise. Van Noten is the only one who says something of note, and no, I’m not talking about the part where he focuses on the ‘carbon imprint’ of transporting materials in lieu of addressing the damage his industry’s manufacturing practices wreak on the earth.

Sustainable fashion is a contradiction in terms.

BINGO.

Riddle me this: If a fashion outsider like myself can Google her way to an explicit answer as to what sustainable fashion is in two and a half minutes, is it plausible that the hacks quoted above can’t do the same (and by that I mean order their assistants to do it for them)?

I don’t THINK so. The luxury goods industry’s collective inability to define sustainable fashion isn’t a mark of ignorance. It’s a survival tactic.

Let’s cut to the chase of Wikipedia’s extensive article on what constitutes Sustainability by scrolling to the section on Materials:

Sustainable use of materials has targeted the idea of dematerialization, converting the linear path of materials (extraction, use, disposal in landfill) to a circular material flow that reuses materials as much as possible, much like the cycling and reuse of waste in nature. This approach is supported by product stewardship and the increasing use of material flow analysis at all levels, especially individual countries and the global economy.

The luxury goods industry’s existence hinges on creating the desire for excess, and on manufacturing and selling products designed to satiate that desire. It tells us to want something when it’s not yet available; we can’t have it, we want it more; it becomes available; we buy it; it tells us to want something else.

Dematerialization means reducing the quantity of materials required for a given product i.e. doing more with less. Apply this principle to an industry founded on the big M (MORE) and it doesn’t compute. The three Rs of sustainability are fashion’s ultimate saboteur.

Reorienting itself to one kind of green means the sacrifice of the dollar kind, and fashion no likey that. So the luxury goods industry masks the problem in soundbites and buzzwords, and enacts PR-friendly changes designed to promote the appearance of giving a shit beyond the status quo. It revels in organic/ethical/environmentally-friendly/eco chic, and claims green as its own by calling it the new black. Sustainability becomes its tort reform - a frivolous sideshow designed to distract consumers from what really needs to be done.

The grand poobahs queried in FT’s article are all too aware of this. I mean, what are they going to say, sustainable fashion means we all have to stop making new crap? Playing dumb’s a hell of a lot easier. Also more lucrative. But avoiding the question isn’t a sustainable solution (pun intended, har har).

Sustainable fashion is a contradiction in terms as it applies to designers, to the luxury goods industry, to new merchandise. Whether or not it exists in the form of thrift, resale, vintage and/or consignment depends on how you define fashion – I define it as “stuff you like to wear,” so to me, gently-worn merch in sync with my personal taste epitomizes sustainable fashion. It’s an answer for environmentally-conscious consumers. But it doesn’t do jack to address the luxury goods industry, and (more importantly) keeping the millions connected to it employed.

Is it possible for fashion to embrace its doppelganger, to produce sustainable goods, to do more with less?

You bet. (See?! I’m not ALL doom and gloom.) A workable definition of sustainable fashion exists – one that might even be realistic on an industry-wide scale. (Provided said industry takes its head out of its ass and admits it has a problem. Is there a Promises program for an addiction to creating epic amounts of waste in the name of fashion?)

Stay tuned for the next installment.

A reader recently asked why I don’t shop at Urban Outfitters.

I don’t know if it’s the music, the faux vintage and/or gimmicky tees, the uber-cute stuff at uber-offensive price points, or that my definition of SALE is rarely in sync with the stores’ reduced-price racks, but all of the above makes Urban Outfitters my personal shopping hell. I’m not saying I don’t like the clothes; I just don’t have the energy, dollars or patience to buy them in-store. This doesn’t mean I won’t buy them elsewhere.

Enter Beacon’s Closet, Park Slope.

The above skirt bears stylistic and material similarities to the Silence & Noise Sublimated Zebra Skirt, which retails for $38.00 and is currently on sale for $24.99.

What’d I pay for a gently-worn version of the same brand? $9.95.

I don’t know if Urban makes the Lux line anymore, so we’ll use another one of its in-house labels to deduce the original price of this garment. The BDG Flannel Pintuck Tunic retails for $38.00. Like its Silence & Noise brethren, it’s also on sale for $24.99.

The Lux plaid tunic cost me $14.95 – not a huge score in the grand scheme of things, but it fit like a dream so I gave it a go.

Why don’t I shop at Urban Outfitters? Because I can snag their stuff resale for less than its sale price.

‘Nuff said.

I’m a Zoe Report subscriber for amusement purposes only, and yesterday’s ass-kissing homage to Derek Lam’s $3950 Tie-Dye bag did not disappoint. It also contained an ad for Rachel’s “basically fabulous” list of wardrobe essentials. Let’s see what the maharajah of self-promotion’s latest Must-Haves are, shall we?

Firstly: “Essential” and “basic” are synonyms, so the title The Not-So-Basic Guide: 20 Wardrobe Essentials is inherently problematic. That being said, grammatical correctness isn’t exactly requisite for the celebrity style skill set, so I’ll let that one slide. Moving on.

Zoe says:

When it comes to footwear, a nude shoe is just as crucial for your collection as an amazing black pump.

A $300 nude shoe, that is.

Yes, this L.A.M.B. Z-Project Platform Pump is the bomb-diggity, but $300? Beotch please. You can get L.A.M.B. for less at Burlington Coat Factory (I’ve seen it at the Chelsea location); Century 21’s also a solid bet. If you’re not the kind of label whore who requires a L.A.M.B. nude pump, consider the below alternatives:

Dolce Vita Beam Pump, $143.95; Charles by Charles David Turvey Platform Pump, $134.95; Nine West Bonfire Pump, $88.95.

Chinese Laundry Keep Up Suede Pump, $72.90; Laura Brandon Patek Pump, $86.32; Harajuku Lovers Ian Pump, $89.90.

Stay tuned for more retorts to Zoe’s reports. Muhaha.

Yesterday afternoon, in the spirit of amping up my knowledge of all-things-secondhand, I did a walking tour of the Lower East Side’s vintage shops. To say I was nonplussed would be putting it lightly – appalled is more like it. The excursion was so infuriating, it actually made me want to go to yoga. I mean, I down-dog a few times a week anyway because I know it’s good for me, but it’s not like I’m ever dying to go to class. The prospect of devoting an hour and a half out of my day to health and inner peace (bah!) is something I usually dread.

Yesterday was a different story: One can only deal with so many nasty salespeople and stomach so many $150 polyester-print dresses before she totally loses her shit. I had two choices: I could block the experience out altogether and pretend it never happened, or I could go to yoga and emotionally disengage enough to write about it sans going completely insane. So I went to fucking yoga. Pfft.

My tour began with evil glares from the saleswoman at Narnia; said glares were likely a byproduct of my hightailing it to the SALE rack upon entering the store. (Beotch please, you’re making ten bucks an hour hawking old shit at astronomical price points – YOU couldn’t afford this crap without your employee discount. You want to judge me for my attempt to find something reasonable, go right ahead.) I noticed a lot of decades-old, no-name fugliness priced at over $100 a piece on account of being expertly preserved. There was also an abundance of premium designer garb. I’m not the kind of asshole who’s ever paid upwards of $1000 for Chanel or Lanvin or whatever; maybe those brands cost less in their vintage state, but $350 ballet flats aren’t what I’d call a steal. From a purely superficial standpoint, the boot and bag selection was killer – unfortunately, no boot or bag under $200 was to be found. BOO.

Next up was The Sweet Ones; a shop that was probs opened by the daughter of an aging rock star with too much time and money on her hands. The selection was costume-y to the point of lunacy – sequins and feathers and lace, oh my! Okayfine, it was kind of fun to browse, but an eighties puff-sleeved taffeta prom dress for $180? COME ON. The bulk of the eye-popping stock was priced at around $100, and utterly impractical to boot (avante garde dressers might disagree, but I’m not shopping for them, so whatevs). Also, demerits on the shoe selection – kitten and square heels, positively nauseating.

After that I hit Some Odd Rubies: A shop specializing in reconstructed vintage. I’m totally on board with the notion of creating new garments from old material – it’s uber eco-friendly, but I have yet to see it done in a cost-effective way, and this store was no exception. Vintage Aesthetic + Modern Silhouette = Stunning, and Really Effing Expensive. Most of the dresses were $200 or more, egads! Still, the store had a few noteworthy upsides: (1) a small sale rack of under-$50 items and (2) a genuinely nice salesgirl – a rare thing in this hood.

Cut to Daha, where the shopkeeper seemed irritated by my entry. Look, you want to eat your lunch on the job, I’ve got no issues with that, but you’re not allowed to be angry at me if I stop in while you happen to be gnoshing. I tried to make peace by complimenting her on the space and layout of the store (which, btdubs, is EPIC – it’s more loft-like, modern art gallery than vintage boutique) – no dice. She pretended I wasn’t there, which is fine as I prefer to browse undisturbed. Still, it was awkward. The clothes get a big fat meh – same overpriced polyester crapola. The boots, however, were a serious step up from its Lower East vintage brethren like WHOA. The selection was meticulously organized by size and color – hundreds of expertly-preserved pairs lined the perimeter of the space. I was pleased to find many in the $110 range – not cheap, but not ridiculous either, particularly for mint-condition vintage boots. I was impressed to the point of temptation, and might have tried a few pairs on… if the woman running the place hadn’t been such a standoffish bitch.

And THAT, dollfaces, about sums up the Lower East Side. I appreciate originality, preservation, clothes as ‘art’ and all that jazz, but not at the expense of my budget. I’m a consumer for whom cheap trumps all, crude as that sounds. I believe that if something’s been worn before, it should cost less than something you’d see at Searle or Scoop. Lower East Side vintage breaks the rule and is, heretofore, an offense to MY ART: The art of the steal.

You want well-priced vintage, hit Metropolis in the East Village. Stay away from the LES.

Dearest readers,

I don’t trust stylists, fashion insiders, mag editors or PR peeps – I trust YOU, the consumers, which is why I’m asking for your opinions.

If you’re interested in participating in the research component of my current project, please copy/paste the below questions into an email, fill in your answers, and send it off to cheapjap@gmail.com. Kindly include your first name, age, occupation and location (i.e. city/state) in addition to your survey responses.

Please avoid answering the survey in the comments section of the blog.

The survey Q’s are general and as such, open to interpretation. Write the first thing that comes to mind, and be as verbose as you please. Answers need not be NYC-based.

I intend on quoting the most entertaining of the bunch, so where humor’s concerned, go for the jugular. Be honest and unmerciful a la Lester Bangs.

Oy, that sounds a lot loftier than I intended. I’m taking a Mulligan:

Just have fun.

How often do you shop?

On average, how much money do you spend on material goodies (a la clothes, shoes, accessories) each month? I’m talking purely selfish purchases – stuff you buy just for you.

Scenario: You’re visiting a new store. What determines whether you browse and bolt, or stay and shop?

What’s cheap to you?

What’s reasonably priced?

What’s a splurge?

What’s a rip off?

What’s the best store, and why?

What’s the worst store, and why?

Spanks in advance.

Every three months or so, I suffer a crisis of faith re: my mission to get you gals shopping in the most fiscally, socially and environmentally responsible way there is (a.k.a. secondhand, obvs).

The inner monologue goes something like this: Resale’s an easy sell, but what about thrift? The notion of patience as the only thing needed to uncover hidden gems amidst tons of donated crap sounds like a warm and fuzzy crock of shit. Can I honestly endorse tackling a Goodwill if doing so means you might come up empty handed? Is that really fair?

When questions like these periodically threaten my entire approach to sartorial fulfillment, I hightail it to the dirtiest thrift within walking distance: The Salvation Army in Chelsea. I’d never recommend this store to a novice thrifter – the place hasn’t been dusted in decades, the racks are riddled with heinousness – it’s enough to turn off even a pro like me. But every few months, I suck it up and go. Why? Because if I can find something I love in decent condition HERE, in the underbelly of the secondhand universe, it rejuvenates my belief that anyone can thrift.

What happens whenever I perform the above exercise? I ALWAYS FIND SOMETHING – and by that I mean something so good, I might consider purchasing it retail. The something in this case was a C&C California extra-long sleeve turtleneck in navy (my fave color to boot). The garment was originally priced at $58.00, and is currently on sale for $14.90 online. What’d I pay?

The numbers don’t lie: I paid $3.99.

“Just so you know, none of the white-tagged clothes are on sale,” said an apologetic staffer at the register. I smiled and reassured her paying full price was okay by me.

It took me about twenty-five minutes of digging to snag the above. When twenty-five minutes and less than five bucks nets a brandtastic turtle AND a renewed sense of purpose, it’s time and money well-spent methinks.

The below Tresics top has the following pros: burnt orange/red color (always a plus for olive-skinned brunettes); thin, cozy material (great for layering); butt-covering length (plays well with leggings); a crazy-low price ($3.99 at Salvation Army, Chelsea. Word.)

There is, of course, one glaring con. The keyhole neckline.

The keyhole neckline is the least flattering of all necklines in existence – it ruins the fit of a top entirely, making one’s boobage lumpy and asymmetrical in the process (unless your chest is flat to the point of pre-pubescence, in which case, you should probably start eating). Who came up with this asinine styling detail? We have v-necks, crew-necks, turtlenecks, scoop-necks, boat-necks and cowl-necks. There’s already too much to choose from, so if you’re going to throw something else into the mix, it better be good. The keyhole neckline isn’t just bad – it’s an insult to breasts everywhere. It’s even more offensive than the mock-turtle (another piss-poor attempt at neckline diversification).

I bought this top for the explicit purpose of exorcising my rage re: the keyhole neckline. The battle involved scissors, hem tape, and a scalding hot iron. Here’s how I emerged victorious:

Step 1: Plug in iron; turn heat to STEAM function. While it warms up, scissor the front of the top into a wide V or U shape. Chalk a line from the shoulder to the center, or eyeball it if you’re a badass like me. (In order to remove the keyhole entirely, you must cut into the hem of the top’s neckline. Don’t worry about it. It deserves it.)

Step 2: Trim the neckline hem off the shoulder and back portions of the top, staying as close to the original line as possible. Bust out the hem tape (I prefer Heat ‘n’ Bond. (Note: Any no-sew hem tape that claims it works sans heat application is lying.) Cut two strips (length should roughly mirror the back-neck portion. Cut those in half down the middle. You now have four thin pieces of hem tape and a hot iron. You are READY.

Step 3: Turn the keyhole-free top inside-out. Hem tape is a bitch and a half, btdubs, but if you work on the inside of the garment, errors are virtually invisible. Anything’s better than sewing. Peel the paper off one of the pieces of tape and apply sticky-side down, about a centimeter from the edge of the neckline. Fold the part of the neckline you’re working with over onto the hem tape. Ready the iron in one hand; use a finger of the other to keep the fold in place. Remove it just before you get the iron down on the material, and try not to burn yourself. I can’t have that on my conscience. Hold the iron down for a few seconds before moving it back and forth. I highly recommend hitting the STEAM button periodically, in addition to ironing on high heat.

Note: My iron reads that synthetic materials should not be subjected to the STEAM function. It is lying to cover its ass in case I damage something and get mad at it. Cotton poly-blends are not synthetics in my book – if it’s got cotton in it, it can handle the cotton heat setting, and that means it gets the STEAM. Your hem tape might not set properly otherwise. (All of this is off the record – I don’t want you effing up your clothes on my account. Use your head. That’s that lump that’s three feet above your ass!)

Repeat Step 3 until you’ve worked your way around the re-vamped neckline of the top. Flip top right-side out; iron out front to smooth. Un-plug iron, let top rest for approximately twenty minutes, and go do something else.

Once heat-tape is fully set, put top on… BACKWARDS! You cut the tag out when you trimmed the neckline hem anyway – why not? (You can wear it with the wide V/U in front too obvs – I just dig the high-neck/low-back thang).

When you’re done, you’ll have successfully obliterated that unsightly keyhole into something like this:

May it rest in peace.

Fanny Packs have experienced something of a renaissance as of late. I’m a fan now, but that’s not why I purchased one last fall. The purchase was on account of a last-minute Halloween costume involving me as an American Apparel “model” (aka slut) and my boyfriend as Dov Charney. That’s right. Me – champion of the closet feminist anti-slutty-costume movement – crossed over to the dark side. Shameful, I know. Anyway.

I bought an American Apparel fanny for the occasion, and defaced it shortly thereafter by penning something like ‘AA slut oops I mean model’ in paint marker. The overall effect won over my fellow party-goers that evening – I suspect my bf’s fake mustache and creepy clear aviators had more to do with their amusement than my fanny pack.

The fanny was relegated to the back corners of my closet after that night, as it obvs couldn’t be worn in public in its gimmicky state. A makeover was in order, so I busted out some sequins, duct tape, silver paint markers, and my trusty Housing Works $5 Bag of Kitsch and got to work.

I was delighted by its new look.

I was also pleased to discover that fannies can be worn across the shoulder as opposed to at the waist.

It’s still fairly gimmicky, but whatevs.

I DIG.

I was in the middle of snapping blog pics the other night, when my BFF rang.

BFF: What are you doing?

Me: Trying to figure out if my Members Only leggings give me camel toe.

BFF: Just wear them with a long top.

Me: I AM, but it’s see-through.

BFF: So wear them with a DIFFERENT long top.

Me: But I have to snap an outfit with THIS top, and I don’t feel like changing. Meh.

BFF: Fuck it, man. Toe happens.

Me: So true.

BFF: Okay, so anyway, about this douchebag…

Me: Yeah, I almost Fbooked him so I could deliver a verbal bitchslap of the nastiest caliber on your behalf.

BFF: That’s very kind, but could you please not?

Me: Fine, but this is the first time I’ve had violent feelings toward a guy I don’t even know for being a jackhole to my friend.

BFF: What are you going to do, beat him up?

Me: Can I pleeeeease?

BFF: NO! But I appreciate the sentiment.

Me: Fine. Karma will get him in the end.

BFF: No shit. Anyway, I was calling because your post on the Golden Globes was a stellar pick-me-up on an otherwise shitty day.

Me: You read it? Yaay!

BFF: ‘I speak Diva.’ Amazing.

Me: You are the ONLY ONE who got that joke.

BFF: How could people not get that joke?

Me: I don’t know. Probs because it wasn’t as good as ‘Toe happens.’

Three Dots Sheer Sculpted Jersey Tee ($26.00 @ Buffalo Exchange); Members Only Leggings ($13.50 @ Buffalo Exchange); Leather Cuff ($15 @ Rags A GoGo); DIY necklace ($5 for materials); Celine Peep-Toe Pumps (price upon request, meaning don’t ask – they’re from my pre-Cheap JAP days).

Ahh, couture: a phenomenon in which outrageous perversions of clothing masquerade as ‘art.’ Maybe the concoctions are interesting, inventive, absurd, possibly beautiful. But they’re too unwearable for me to comprehend, and it’s hard for me to give a shit about things I don’t understand.

After skimming the photo galleries of this year’s entries into the unofficial competition among designers that is couture – a competition where the most expensive, hand-sewn, ridiculous garb reigns supreme – I’m still confused as to why fashion concerns itself with this antiquated stuff parade.

Some of the looks below might be deemed genius by industry insiders, but what do I know? I’m just a peon of a consumer who sees things sans rose-colored glasses. On that note, let’s take a good, hard look.

(Chanel)

Initially, I hard time getting past the testicular-esque buns and the blinding white tights. At left: A knit series of spherical blobs infused with lace and tulle, in a color scheme reminiscent of split pea soup. At right: Really Karl? REALLY? You KNOW you designed this necktie gown so you could prance around in it when no one’s looking, using your pony-tailed beauty as a means of distracting yourself from the fact that you’re STARVING. And what’s with the leash? Is that so you can yank your models away from the pre-show snack table?

(Armani Prive; Givenchy)

At right: One of many looks from Armani Prive’s Sailor Moon collection, which features a crescent lunar shape on every single fucking piece. I’m guessing the metal mesh material was really challenging to work with – it’s clearly a suit, but the fit leaves something to be desired, and by that I mean the model looks fat. At left: Givenchy got a little lazy this year, and ripped this look directly from the Cher Bob Mackie collection. Aside from the lampshade hat, obviously. That’s an original.

I usually balk at $200 dresses, but if the garment in question amounts to twenty-four dresses in one, it makes the price infinitely more palatable (if not less perilous for your budget). Hence the awesomeness of Butter by Nadia.

Upon learning of the convertible wrap dress phenomenon last year, I heard a little voice in my head. It told me this was a versatile, quality item, an investment piece to be splurged on, one I’d wear 24/7, one that’d be super fun to experiment with (I mean, 24 different ways to wear the thing! Oh, the possibilities…)… and somehow managed to ignore it.

(Chanting I-do-not-need-it-I-do-not-need-it-I-might-want-it-but-I-do-not-need-it to oneself over and over again helps in times like these).

Willpower, it seems, is a karmic mystery: Exercise it sans expecting anything in return, and ye shall be rewarded accordingly.

This dress is so boundless, it comes with an instructional video! After I inevitably master all twenty-four wrap techniques, I plan on inventing a few more of my own (all of which will involve shortening sans scissoring. Shocking, I know.)

Stay tuned for visuals. Eek!