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’m working on a project that necessitates your feedback if it is to be as epic as I intend it. (Also: I’m being vague on purpose so as to not have my ideas jacked by any generic shopping ‘experts’). I’m anticipating some blog slackage as a result of the aforementioned project; I’ll try to keep it going as best I can, but I gotsta prioritize this other thang for the time being (if you want to help me out on this front, email your Sharesies with stories AND PICTURES – they’re easily transferable and uber inspiring for your fellow shoppers.)

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 into an email, fill in your answers, and send it off to cheapjap@gmail.com. Spanks in advance.

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?

*Answers need not be NYC based. Write as much or as little as you please. Looking forward to hearing your thoughts

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!

In a post yesterday, Second City Style listed Socks ‘n’ Sandals as one of Spring’s Trends That Must Die, along with a picture of Chloe Sevigny donning the combo.

Cut to LAST JULY, when I said the following in Risk Taker, Rule Breaker: Chloe Sevigny

The initial appearance of any trend is rarely met with universal approval, if only because Fashion polices those whose style of dress contradicts its rules of the moment. Post-critique, the industry jacks the ideas of its biggest rule-breakers and later pawns them off as its own: Don’ts become Do’s and Out becomes In, Fashion gets to look original and we get an excuse to buy new stuff.

That Chloe Sevigny’s personal style has inspired more than a few trends isn’t the point. What ultimately matters is the source of her sartorial originality, a.k.a. her mastery of the art of Not Giving A Shit. Chloe Sevigny doesn’t dress to inspire Fashion; the fact that what she wears eventually shows up on its radar is simply a byproduct of her dressing to please only herself.

Chloe’s recent pairing of Socks With Orthopedic Sandals might seem like a total faux pas, so if you need to tear her down to feel sartorially superior, go right ahead. Just make sure you thank her a few years from now, when the Granny Chic trend inevitably hits the runway.

Mere months later and POOF! Socks ‘n’ Sandals is on fashion’s radar. Whatafuckingcoincidence.

While I’m on board with Second City Style assessment of the aforementioned trend as heinous, that’s not ultimately the point. The point is that fashion is an idea-thieving beotch.

That is all.

Let’s play the Retail V. Resale numbers game with the below Marc Jacobs Sweater.

If ever you’re miffed at the difficulty of selling to Buffalo Exchange (East Village), look at it this way: High buying standards on their end ensure brandtastic scores on yours. Over and over and over again.

OBSESSED.

Welcome to Retail V. Resale, a new feature where we examine the cost differential between new and gently-worn. (Spoiler alert: Cheap always wins.)

The Three Dots Sheer Jersey Sculpted Tee with Pocket is the kind of top that almost makes me a believer in heinously overpriced basics – it’s that awesome.

Luckily, tissue-thin brandtastic tees can also be shopped resale. Witness the result:

I’m trying to be more of a joiner these days, so I recently started a chicblog in support of the people’s fashion destination, a.k.a. Chictopia.

Big mistake. Huge.

Where style’s concerned, if-it-makes-you-feel-great-you’ll-look-great-in-it-and-fuck-what-everyone-else-thinks is my get out of jail free card, one that liberates us all from Do’s, Don’ts, Ins and Outs; one that makes an enemy out of anyone who seeks to criticize us for rejecting the rules – rules whose existence hinges on us buying more crap we don’t need.

This strategy might work in the land of Cheap JAP, but it doesn’t fly on planet Chictopia. Oh sure, anyone can join the community, anyone can start a chicblog, anyone can vote and anyone can upload pics of her outfits. Initially, it’s all very democratic.

Click on the Style Gallery, and all that egalitarian shit hits the fan.

Style Gallery Rules
To help the community build out a style gallery with quality photos and relevant posts, we only allow photos with more than 3 votes from Chictopia’s style council to be displayed here. Chictopia’s style council is comprised of members with more than 200 chic points. Our staff editors help facilitate the style gallery selection by making final edits based on lighting, photo content, and blog content.

This is not a democracy. It’s a Chicocracy.

Am I pissed that none of the photos posted to my chicblog (see above) have made the style gallery? Yes. Am I taking it personally? Also yes, because I’m an arrogant little beotch who thinks I know how to dress. At least I did, until I started actually looking at the individual photos that made the cut.

I know how to dress, but these girls know how to DRESS. They take risks, break rules, and their collective creativity puts everything I’ve ever seen in glossies to shame. The world of fashion might consider some of their outfits to be totally nutso. But they’re not dressing according to what’s In – they’re dressing to express themselves. Maybe it’s a blow to my ego that I’m not among them, but they’re practicing exactly what I preach. So I find myself in a bit of a pickle – intimidated and inspired both.

When we happen upon killer style – online or in life – we immediately feel threatened. Our hunch is that if she’s hot, well-dressed and confident, she’s probably a bitch, so we treat her as such. I do it; you do it; there’s no concrete answer as to why. We’re so afraid of being criticized, judged or shit-talked that we rarely allow for the alternative; that the source of our fear might actually be nice.

That alternative is all over Chictopia. Killer style gets complimented, those hailed return the favor, and there’s a warm-and-fuzzy aspect to every exchange. I’ve been browsing for weeks, and I still haven’t seen anything judge-y or mean. It seems as though women, when they’re bound by a common interest and interacting from the safety of their respective desktops, laptops and smart phones, aren’t all that interested in tearing each other down. They’d rather trade style tips than bitchy quips.

Chictopia’s got its share of inspirational style, but that’s not what keeps me coming back. It’s what it proves about us as women – that without the fear of judgment or criticism, we’re more apt to be allies than enemies. That’s more inspiring than the most inventive of outfits. Maybe it’s something we’re all capable of too.

Kumbaya, beotches.

Featuring two outta three of yesterday’s Goodwill finds. WORD.

Splendid Tee ($6.99 @ Goodwill thankyouverymuch)
Twelfth Street by Cynthia Vincent Slip ($6.00 @ Monk. I know. Redonkulous.)
Ponyhair Belt ($3.00 @ NJ’s Alcove Thrift)
Thick-Rib Tights ($4.99 @ Duane Reade, yet more durable than a lot of my pricier hosiery. I AM OBSESSED. Weird.)
Melissa Plastic Dreams Wedges ($99.00 @ Kaight)

Nextly:

RUEHL No. 925 Top ($6.99 @ Goodwill)
J Brand Shredded Jeans ($22.00 @ Buffalo Exchange, shredded by moi)
Ralph Lauren Purple Label Blazer ($an-arm-and-a-leg.00, as it was a souvenir from Mom’s last trip to Paris. Best. Gift. Ever.)

Oh, and this is what happens when you get carried away with Picnik’s photo-editing features:

Kinda fun though, riiiight? Right.

Had a solid browse last week at the 23rd Street Goodwill.

Warm, versatile and most importantly, cropped. Eighties!

The pics don’t lie: That’s a tags-on-new $52.00 Splendid U-Neck Puff Sleeve Tee right there. (Originally $51.00 online – the Anthropologie tag attached to the one pictured makes it cost a dollar more. Jackholes.)

Another new retail goodie that ended up donated. I know it’s new for two reasons: It’s in excellent condition, and the tag’s been snipped out. Companies spend ludicrous amounts on image-related PR – they can’t have people like me snagging their marked-up, unsold merch at Goodwill and telling everyone about it, so they snip out the tags as a means of maintaining whatever power they think their brand has.

So how do I know this top is RUEHL No. 925 in spite of its snipped out tags?

Because they missed one. Nice try though, corporate buzz-killers. Better luck next time.

You are all undoubtedly aware of my position on celebrity style: Its obvious irrelevance to your life and mine continually results in my inability to give a shit. Alas, my unwillingness to engage in smack-talking fashions donned by famous peeps, particularly during award show season, is none too good for my traffic stats. In the spirit of compromise, I believe I’ve come up with a strategy that is both (a) relevant to the culture of celebrity in which we live and (b) true to my view of criticism as unfunny unless deserved.

The glaring exception to the above are the Fug Girls (intelligence and writing skills go a long way in an industry riddled with authorities lacking in both.) For evidence of the rule – that those who can’t do, criticize – we must change the channel to E! and watch “Fashion Police: The 67th Annual Golden Globe Awards” in its entirety.

Stomaching the self-important dribble of the cast -

Joan “My face is the greatest punchline ever” Rivers
Jay “I’m GAY! Look at my POCKET SQUARE!” Manuel
Khloe “I love my sister’s D-list celebrity/ I hate her for being prettier than me” Kardashian Odom
Giuliana “There’s one thing better than being a famous person, and that’s being thinner than famous people” Rancic

-requires a steady supply of tequila, which I had the good sense to purchase for last night’s occasion. It’s high time these hacks got a taste of their own medicine.

The dialogue inspired by the below celebs isn’t just a series of vapid, predictable attempts at humor and/or at making fashion deeper than it is.

It’s a window into the souls of those spouting it.

Today, we deal not with text, but with subtext.

E! Fashion Police: Welcome to Judgment Day.

JOAN: She was in Inglorious Bastards… oh my god, and that’s what she should call her design team! Not even a chuckle from these people. I’d shoot them a look that says LAUGH NEXT TIME OR ELSE but I’m having some trouble moving my face.
JAY: The ruffles into the high waist, it was ill-fitting on her body. And really, who takes designers seriously enough to actually don a dress from the runway? That works like never. But that’s between me and my private thoughts.
GIULIANA: It was off the runway though. Which means she’s thin enough to actually wear something designed for anorexic models. HATE HER.
JAY: You did NOT just say that. But you gotta be careful with what you take from the runway to the red carpet. Authority accomplished. Thank you lucky pocket square!

JOAN: Considering she just gave birth to a baby… she looked… I will not say Fat I will not say Fat I will not say Fat… pretty good, ya know. But the ass, I mean… IS FAT! HAHAHA! I am losing my SHIT over here and NO ONE KNOWS! THANK YOU FACE!
JAY: I love the mermaid silhouette. I think it’s a perfect selection for someone who just gave birth. Giving birth. That’s disgusting.
KHLOE: She looks like Cinderella. I made a comment! Yessssss.

JOAN: Look at those bazookas of hers. I thought she was smuggling in two orphans to sell to Angelina Jolie! I. Am. Brilliant.
JAY: My biggest problem with the dress is the color… the beige doesn’t suit her… also, are those boobs or just fat? Or are they one and the same? I never know these things!
KHLOE: So much is wrong here, and like, just like the back fat and everything, I mean like we all have it but I think you just have to know how to dress for your body… if this asshole holding the camera zooms in on MY back fat…. my inner monologue isn’t quick enough to finish this thought. Whatevs. I’m on TV!

JOAN: It looked like Prince’s old purple prom dress… which he let me try on when we blew lines back in the eighties! Oh Prince, you DOLL!
JAY: Here’s the thing: She always looks better when she wears a longer bodice. In fact this made her look really short, like long legged/short-waisted… it didn’t fit well. Sometimes I get lost in my words.
GIULIANA: She’s too pretty for this dress… and by ‘too pretty,’ I mean ‘I see cellulite.’ Ha.

JOAN: She needs a subtitle person with her, that accent – I don’t know what she’s talking about! These Europeans… something’s up. Penelope, Sophia, that French chick… what’s in the water over there? I want it NOW.
JAY: This dress was fit beautifully, but guys, did you guys not think the mystic tan was a liiitle much? I should have been tanning on the beach with Javier. This hetero thing is so last season.
KHLOE: She’s frolicking on the beach with her hunky boyfriend all day long! Is two months into marriage too early to cheat on your husband?

JOAN: First of all, what is that growing on her shoulder? It should be lanced. I didn’t know that word until I saw it listed as part of my last procedure. Cosmetic surgery: Inspiring AND educational.
JAY: I think it’s art, I really do think it’s art. Donatella paid me to say that. LOVE HER!
KHLOE: Besides the sea urchins, the dress is perfect… OMFG I think I just used a, what’s it called, a metaphor? But it’s like coral growing on the woman’s body… another one, eek! But other than that it’s stunning. I sound smart on tee-vee, naa-na-naa-na-naa-naa.
GIULIANA: I obviously like the shoulder growth, so I gotta disagree. I thought shoulder growth would make my arms look smaller which is why I’m rocking this ridiculous oversize bow but, oh god, did I commit a faux pas too?! They’re looking at me and they hate me. Stop looking at me. STOP LOOKING AT ME.

JOAN: She brought two of her own golden globes! Did Jay say that already? Too bad, I’m stealing it. I’m Joan RIVERS. I do what I WANT.
GIULIANA: They were hanging out all over the place. I didn’t even see her face. Blinded by the faaaaat…I SO could have been a singer.
JAY: Well that’s what I said on the red carpet was that she brought her golden globes… Take THAT, Rivers…No wait I’m sorry I love youuu… I agree with you Joan. Please don’t eat me.
KHLOE: I mean the hair, the dress, is awful. But I fluctuated my weight, I know she does too, but I think I dress to what my weight fluctuates. I don’t speak English. I speak DIVA.

JOAN: She looked divine, she looked… another word for Fat, what is it?… heavy… YES, very… but it doesn’t matter. But it should. It’s hurting my eye lift. MAKE IT STOP.
KHLOE: I think she is a bigger woman, but I mean definitely a beautiful bigger woman. AS IF!
GIULIANA: She looked happy, she looked confident. I mean, you knew she was gonna win. Can we move on now please? All that well-fed confidence is making my stomach growl. Again.

JAY: THIS is how you do cleavage. See? It’s simple. Just be thin!

JOAN: It looks like Scarlet O’Hara made that dress. I do not know who this person is and I’m texting Melissa to find out.
KHLOE: For someone as tiny and thin and beautiful as she is… I hate her more than Kim… I mean if she can’t pull it off who the hell is gonna wear something like that? That’s it. I’m getting gastric bypass.
GIULIANA: You guys are not gonna believe it but I think the dress is beautiful. This was actually a best dressed nominee of mine! Maybe if I stalk her and lie about my age we can be besties, and then people will start to think I’m tiny and thin and beautiful too!

JOAN: Adorable. Cute. Pregnant. When did actresses stop planning their pregnancies around award show season? Those were the days. Perfect look for a woman in her trimester… or Mariah Carey. Aaaand I’m BACK. Zing!
JAY: With a lot of women who are pregnant, they wear these long flowy dresses… I kind of like the length. It suited her well and I really love the bodice and the asymmetry. Do NOT throw up JAY, DO NOT THROW UP, think happy un-pregnant thoughts, like licking the peach fuzz on Robert Downey Jr.’s baby-soft buttcheek…Mmmmm!
KHLOE: See just because you’re pregnant, you don’t have to look old. I can’t WAIT to be preggers and eat EVERYTHING. Like i think this dress makes her look so old, I wish she was in a gown, like, you feel pretty-pregnant, not old-ugly-pregnant. I’ll be pretty-pregnant… but not as pretty as Kim. Bitch.
GIULIANA: Matronly. I thought she looked matronly. And massive, hello?! I know she’s pregnant. But it’s no excuse.
JAY: Did you want her in something like skin tight? Must… Stop… Nausea… Ommmmm. Robert Downey Jr. Robert Downey Jr. Robert Downey Jr… Chase Crawford! YES!

JAY: Well he had a bit of a cold… Ice Ice Baby… he was actually flying out here on my flight… and he told me after we joined the mile-high club, tee hee, I WISH! I didn’t like the skinny tie. But I did like the fact that he wore a pocket square! He’s so young, so nubile, so inspiring. Sighs.
GIULIANA: I thought he looked super sexy, really great… I’d so be his cougar He’s definitely one of my best dressed nominees for men, and I love the hair off of his forehead, I mean sometimes it comes forward and I think it looked really nice that way. It looks like he just had SEX. With ME. Mrrow!

JOAN: I thought she looked very good… I mean for someone who bought from the Ellen DeGeneres collection! A man’s haircut and no plastic surgery is not funny. It’s making a mockery of the temple that is the red carpet. The nerve.
JAY: It looked cheap… kinda like Khloe… I mean it wasn’t well constructed.
KHLOE: The material is so cheap-looking… I would know… and, she just looks so uncomfortable in it though. I never am!
GIULIANA: She is such a funny woman but sadly, you know, the dress was funny too. No it wasn’t. It’s not funny that someone that ugly gets to be famous and I don’t. It’s not funny at all.

JOAN: She looks a little bust-heavy in this…Bust-heavy. I just pulled a fabulous new adjective for obese out of my fat-sucked ass! But she’s a gorgeous girl. And Melissa was pretty before her nose job. HA!
JAY: I think the problem here is this beautiful contrast waistband – which i’m a huge fan of – it’s not quite an empire waist – it’s just a little awkward… aaaaand I’m tapped out of officious style terminology.
KHLOE: I think she’s pregnant or I hope she’s pregnant and if so…oh, she’s not pregnant… Oopsies. I hope they still ask me back next year!
JAY: I think it’s totally where this band is hitting her… Cut to commercial, I can’t keep us afloat much longer!
GIULIANA: And this cut on a lot of women does give you this pregnant look. I mean, you gotta be careful. We’re all assholes. Oh well. At least I’m the thinnest asshole here.

Fashionista released the first images of Zac Posen for Target last week. Here’s my knee-jerk reaction to a selection of the JPEGs.

The Raincoat – dig the color, cut looks reasonably flattering. The Ruched Skirt – meh overall, demerits for an in-between length that makes 90% of legs look stumpy. The hat – why?

The Snap Tape Dress – uber original, stellar snap detail, destined to be the rock star of an otherwise mediocre collection. I am, however, wondering how the open, lace-up neckline will respond to the challenge of supporting real, live breasts. Outlook not good.

The Sailor Dress – pattern, length and styling get a plus. The socks/heels combo – heinously distracting to the point of obscuring all the above.

The Ruffled Dress – eyes are burning due to an overly enthusiastic use of ruched tulle. A belated holiday party disaster made more offensive by an audacious $79.99 price tag. Forever 21 a much more reasonable alternative to cheaply-made party garb. Boo.

The Gown – I like the print, but for $69.99? Beotch please.

The Moto Leather Jacket – a $200 offense to eighties style, why spend that at Target when you can get a legit vintage jacket of decent quality for the same amount? The Tuxedo Skirt – ruined by the bow tie. Like, we get it. The Tuxedo Bodysuit – What. The. Fuck.

Beats the hell outta Century 21. If you’re in the Union Square area at any point this weekend, do swing by. Designer goodies at redonkulously low prices abound.

Cure Thrift Bag Sale
Vintage & designer clutches, totes, hobos, satchels, wallets, purses, luggage and more!
Whether you’re looking for your next everyday carry-all, or just something fun to wear on a night out… we’ve got it at Cure.
Saturday & Sunday, 1/16-1/17

Some pictoral proof, for your viewing pleasure:

Now lookey, not EVERYTHING hits the under $20 mark that denotes true thrift. The Prada backpack’s tagged at $190 (those usually cost $700, minimum); the vintage DVF overnight bag’s tagged at $175. But the bulk of the merch is under $100 and in mint condition to boot. I DIG.