CheapJAP

Label Whore

Ooh La La Leather, Ha Ha Ha Price!

I wasn’t in the market for a leather jacket when I stopped by Beacon’s Closet yesterday afternoon. It’s not like I haven’t lusted after my fair share - I mean, c’mon - but I know better than to torture myself over things I def can’t afford.

I also know better than to look a gift horse in the mouth. I don’t know what happened as I was perusing my fave store’s coat rack, but it was some mythical shit: The seas of tweed and wool parted, and there it was. A lean mean leather dream from the uber JAPtastic Joie. Too small from the looks of it, but certainly worth a shot.
As I stuffed myself into the coat, I recalled a suede, fitted, BCBG jacket I’d once owned that resembled a potato sack after a mere six months of wear. As leather is equally stretch-prone, I figured if I could get the stiff, barely-worn Joie buttoned, I could break it in enough to wear it sans suffocation. I bought it, and spent the remainder of the afternoon in it. After a few painful hours, the coat was roomy enough that I was able to do exactly what I’d envisioned the moment I saw it: Channel Trinity and tear up the Matrix.

This coat’s retail value must have been upwards of $600, as it’s not only Joie, but also boasts double the leather of a bomber jacket. I paid $39.95, which makes this perhaps my most epic steal ever. Hopefully this magical shopping experience rubbed off on the jacket itself, and wearing it will enable me to defy gravity and fly helicopters and stuff. Someone’s gotta fight the good fight.

Nifty Thrifty

Thrift Goes Corporate, Thanks to AA

Hating on American Apparel isn’t the most challenging of tasks. There’s the prevalence of camel toes in tights and leotards; the idea that oversized fake glasses-plus-nipples-equals-sexy; the $10 Le String intended to shape the $38, too-true-to-its-nameLe Sac Dress; the pervy-is-the-new-black trend illustrated by variations on the doggy-style theme. A world where the saggy-eyed apathy of a lethal bender is always In and partied-out promiscuity is always cool lends itself to a certain, erm, lack of responsibility: It’s all fun and games until somebody gets knocked up and blames it on a billboard.

And yet.

In the entirety of my wardrobe, there is one item without which I could not dress myself: Lame-Matte High-Waisted Leggings in black, no contest. In, Out, I don’t give a shit; if leggings aren’t pants, I’m bottomless at least three days a week and more than okay with it. I feel all kinds of awesome whenever I wear them, and feeling awesome is always In, yes?

Until recently, the aforementioned leggings were the sole source of my commitment to AA. Then I wandered into their Flatbush Avenue location and happened upon California Select.

Initially, I rolled my eyes and Oy-Veyed to myself: Was AA really pulling an Urban and manufacturing pretend-vintage clothing? Then, I noticed that every single piece was different, that the California Select racks looked more legit thrift than faux secondhand. I grabbed the nearest Unisex Tee-Clad employee and drilled him for answers.

CJ: Explain this California Select biznass to me.
AA: It’s American Apparel’s vintage/thrift line.
CJ: I see. So you’re manufacturing “vintage” clothing.
AA: Nope. Our buyers hit flea markets all over the country. The stuff they find is California Select.

Exsqueeze me? Baking powder? Did Sustainable Shopping just go corporate in a big way? As someone all too familiar with the challenges of shopping a flea (the weather-related issues, the figuring out which vendors are decent, the constant suspicion of being ripped off), I’m eternally grateful for anything that makes the process less of a bitch. American Apparel’s culling the best of America’s gently-worn goods takes the headache out of the equation. I’m happy to pay a few bucks more for convenience, especially when much of the line starts at a reasonable $9.99.

All items pictured currently on offer at California Select’s Ebay Store. As of now, the line is only available Select-ively (tee hee) in the flesh, (see this list of retail locations for more info) but I have a hunch it’ll be everywhere soon.

American Apparel’s ads might glorify irresponsibility, but their business practices do no such thing: The company was hailed as a shining example of Corporate Social Responsibility even before California Select. Their decision to, in essence, mass-produce previously worn clothes proves that they’re as environmentally conscious as they are socially. It also affirms my assessment of Sustainable Shopping as the next big thing, and hot damn! do I love being right.

DIY Dallying

Tarty in St. Barty

If I had to sum up the stylistic inclinations of St. Barth’s in three words: High-Class Prostitute. Wet T-shirt Contests - Bad; $300 Transparent Bikinis - Good. So, in the spirit of the skin-revealing atmosphere, I cut this Marimekko for H&M Maxidress into a Mini. And used the excess material to make a do-rag, but I’m probs too white to call it that sooo…. head scarf? Does that work?

While the dress obvs looked better long, its original length did nothing for my five foot, two and a half inch frame; it rendered me downright shrimpy.

Note to self: Maxidresses are only chic when you’re tall enough to not trip over the hem.

Plus, I’ve always wanted to wear a do-rag. I mean head scarf.

Economic Shitstorm

Old Habits Die Hard Or Not At All

Ahh, December 31st. An eve where we vow to be better, more responsible people and seal the deal with all those toxins we’re soooo not consuming in abundance next year, and then proceed to crash without taking off our eye make-up and stumble out of bed the next morning toward a greasy brunch intended to settle our still-liquor saturated tummies (totally acceptable because our diet doesn’t really start until the second - phew). Later, we’ll spiral into a web of self-loathing at last night’s regrettable behavior, a horrific guilt balloon that can only be popped via stiff martini at the day’s end. Resolutions, indeed. Let’s not forget that when Mimi sang “It’s Gonna Be A Happy New Year” alongside her fellow we’re-not-gonna-pay-RENTers, she did so while on the hunt for her crack dealer. In the words of the wisest waiter I’ve ever worked alongside: Same shit, different shovel. And this brings us to Vou…Voug…It That Shall Not Be Named!

The January cover of Vogue boasts Cheap & Chic ways to look fabulous whilst enduring this tres DRAG of a recession. One would think that the mag that put the Eff in Fashion could come up with a less exhausted phrase for our oh-fuck-we-can’t-spend-money-on-designer-shit-now-what era, but I digress. Let’s see what pearls of wisdom Anna & Co. have to offer this time around, shall we?

Shop Sustainably*
You mean like carry an easy-to-fold canvas tote in my purse so I can use it for groceries and stuff? Ha. HA. Canvas - how plebeian! Why not try leather, specifically Chanel’s distinctive leather tote, instead? I don’t know, assbags: Maybe because it’s $1,525 plus-tax.

Pile It On
“It” being neon, sparkly Missoni bangles that retail for $150 - $500, give or take. I’m down with mismatched accessories. What I’m not down with is ludicrously expensive plastic and/or privileged spawns of designers who masquerade as such by wearing Grandmommies’s dresses to really cool parties with really cool people. Talent ain’t always hereditary, dollfaces.

Tighten Your Belt (or something to do with belts or waists - I obvs disposed of the tome in disgust post-read and now can’t recall the exact phraseology)
This tip implies spending less money, but the belt referenced isn’t one you already own; it’s a Marc Jacobs metallic wrap-around number that retails for over $600, if memory serves. A trendy excessory that costs more than a handbag. Awesome job, ladies. Awesome job.

Other offending suggestions include, but are not limited to: $800 laptop bags, $1200 pendants - because organization and accessories never go out of style or something - and, my personal favorite, a Lanvin Orange Patent Leather Sneaker as a $695 way to “Improve Your Carbon Footprint.” It’s chemically-altered leather, for fuck’s sake.

Vogue’s continual failure to grasp the concept of Practical Fashion once worked to their advantage, but as of late, it’s rendered the publication increasingly ridiculous. Version 2009 looks a whole lot like version 2008.

Same shit. Different shovel.

*Shop Sustainably…hmm. Sounds remarkably similar to Sustainable Shopping, no? Methinks you whoreface editrixes over at Conde Nasty might be reading my bloggy on the sly, what with the ill-disguised phrase poaching and all. I’m usually a very giving person, but the buck stops with you. The age of Fashion is over. The time of the Cheap JAP has come. (Yes, that’s a Lord of the Rings reference. If you thought I was cool before…)

I Love A Good Story

Resort Wear MY ASS.

So, I’m in St. Barth’s, courtesy of my way-too-nice parents. Merry Christmas to ME. I’m going to attempt a few days off from the land o’ the blogosphere, but I’ll be back in full force on the 30th, so fret not, my little chickadees.
I’ll sign off with what I purchased in preparation for my vacay: A whopping three things from Tar-jay.

 The Mossimo Black Boyshorts and Tubini (around $30 - the brown version pictured wasn’t on sale, boo-HISS) can be worn together as a bathing suit; the Tubini also works as a top. And these Mossimo Ruffle Long & Lean Tank ($9.99 each) are a nice step up from my usual wifebeaters, what with the ruffles and such. The black one proved a lovely canvas for my recent Iron-On Felt Letters fetish too.

Joy to the world! MWAH.

Heel Schpiel

Cool Boots for Cold Days

When you’re the kind of jackass who dons ankle boots and legwarmers for the first storm of the season, you’ve got two choices: (1) Ignore your damp feet and suck it up or (2) Get some new footwear, STAT. I found myself in this very situation last Friday; gift shopping in a disgusting blizzard, dodging dirty slush and ice, knowing full well it was only a matter of time before I fell on my ass and ruined the white, wool BCBG coat Mommy got me last Chanukah. My feet started going numb as I exited Uniqlo, and I realized if I was going to survive the eight blocks down Broadway to American Apparel and the trek back to Brooklyn, drastic measures needed to be taken. And by drastic measures, I mean buying weather-appropriate footwear impulsively and out of necessity. I shuddered at the thought; then again, I was probably just cold.

I’ve had my eye out for a pair of Rain Boots Cool Enough To Not Look Like Rain Boots for quite some time. Who knew I’d find THE ONES exactly when I needed them? Yet there they were, in the window of one of Soho’s many shoe stores; I started feeling all warm and fuzzy even before I tried the Cougar FIRE Boots on, and I knew they were what I’d been subconsciously waiting for. A black, zip-up, all-weather boot with patent leather trim and ribbon detail might have won me in and of itself. But the thing had a WEDGE HEEL, and a totally walkable one at that. I hadn’t just found rain boots cool enough to not look like rain boots; I’d found rain boots that made me TALLER. Ye shopping Gods hath smiled on me again!

The Cougar FIRE boot was originally around $110. I paid $99 - an unimpressive number based on the fact that the rest of the store was 50-75% off - but I’m more than okay with that, as I’ve worn them every single day since their purchase. Even my dogs seem enchanted by them.

Unfortunately, Buster and Zimmie are bigger attention whores than me, and in the process of hamming it up for the camera, obscured the point of the shot. But you get the idea.

DIY Dallying

The Art of Gift Giving: Iron-On Felt!

Now, while the PC term “Happy Holidays” technically includes Chanukah, most of my tribe understands that our version of Christmas is what Tofurkey is to Thanksgiving: A meatless substitute that pales in comparison to the real thing. We still do gifts, but they’re never from Santa. Sniffle.

This year, Mom, Dad and Little Bro Matt all got versions of my own go-to apparel (because I can’t possibly imagine a better gift than the opportunity to dress like me!). Alas, one can only get so excited about Uniqlo Heat-Tech Shirts and American Apparel Tri-Blend Tees, so I took things up a notch by lettering their gifts with the most frequently uttered phrases in our house.


Dritz Iron-On Touch Letters (no sewing required, obvs) were my weapon of choice. “You ASS!” is beloved by us all, but it went to Mom for her continually impassioned delivery; Matt got “EFF OFF” because it’s my line and - like “fetch” - I’m trying to make it happen with America’s youth. Dad’s shirt - not pictured because he’d already worn it out of the house pre-photo shoot - reads “Big Piece of Chicken” a la Chris Rock, whom he’s fond of quoting. Truer words were never spoken.

After everyone recovered from shock at my having used an iron (a) by choice and (b) without injuring myself or others, they had a nice chuckle over their new garb. Is there a better present than laughter? I don’t THINK so.

Merry Whatever to you and yours.

Economic Shitstorm

The Goliath of Goodwills Versus…ME.

En route from my tailor the other day, strutting down Flatbush Avenue Ext., I stumbled across the biggest Goodwill I have ever seen. As I assessed the interior, I was overwhelmed by a mixture of awe, trepidation and nausea not unlike what I experienced on my last trip to Century 21. If I couldn’t find something, ANYTHING, in this vast, Motley Crue of castoffs, it would call the entirety of my secondhand shopping prowess into question, and that was sooo not happening. So I put on my headphones, got in the zone and - to the tune of Feed the Animals - tackled the place rack by rack.

Looks like two pairs of colored jeans and a patterned dress, right? WRONG. So effing wrong. Drum roll, please.

Marc Jacobs, Built by Wendy and Lily Pulitzer, respectively. ‘Nuff said.

I’m well aware that scoring at Salvation Army and/or Goodwill is rare; the bigger the outlet, the harder it gets. The only reason I uncover the pearls in these seas of fugliness, time and time again, is practice. While I neither expect nor recommend that you spend as much time in the field as I do, one hour per week going through the racks at your resident beacon of charity castoffs does wonders for your shopping skillz. Slowly back away from The Hills (that’s what DVR is for!), get your ass off the couch, and give it a whirl. Seek and ye shall find, young Skywalkers. Seek and ye shall find.

DIY Dallying

Space Saving Decor

Clutter-free walls are supposed to make one’s shoebox of an apt feel larger than it is. Whatever. The starkness of mine bored me to tears; henceforth, my walls became a canvas for my clothes and accessories, and a means to save closet space. The eye candy of my wares should be displayed, if only for me to admire. This is my art, people.

Tools: Huggable Hangers, 3M Utensil Hook.
Possibly two of the most brilliant inventions EVER. Huggable Hangers are a no-brainer - they free up closet space and maintain the shape of clothes, making those cumbersome wood ones entirely irrelevant. 3M’s Utensil Hooks are designed for kitchen tools, something I’m not overly familiar with, obvs.

But they work equally well for purses, belts, dresses, et. al., provided you follow the instructions. You MUST press the adhesive side of the hook to the wall for a solid 30 seconds and wait ONE WHOLE HOUR before hanging anything on said hook. Amazingly enough, these little suckers do zero damage to your wall when you remove them - pull straight down on the bottom tab, and they pop right off!

LOVE IT.

Label Whore

The Afterglow of Buffalo

I scored big with my Buffalo Exchange Store Credit. Huge. It’s ridiculous, really, that I arrived at their East Village location with unwanted clothes, and departed with Miss Sixty, Alice & Olivia, Nanette Lepore, and Theory. This is obvs due in part to my shopping skillz, but fret not, chickadees. Remember what I said before? They’re Overstocked. More than enough to go around!

Photographic Evidence of Excellent Price Points

The Theory top was $15; the Alice & Olivia Dress was $36; the Nanette Lepore pants were $28.50; the Miss Sixty tag isn’t pictured because I accidentally threw it out, oopsies. Also $15.

I’d like to take a moment to reflect on my last trip to Marshall’s, when I did not buy the $39.99 Theory button down. If I had, upon seeing the $15 tag on this much cuter version, I would have KICKED MYSELF. Restraint has its rewards sometimes.

Outfits and further descriptions on all the above to follow, but first, let’s briefly assess the damage (or lack thereof). The subtotal of all four items was $94.50. Not bad, but certainly not what I’d been planning to spend. My store credit of $51 meant I owed BuffEx a grand total of… $43.50.

An Alice & Olivia dress, a Miss Sixty top, a Theory button-down shirt, and a pair of Nanette Lepore pants for FORTY THREE DOLLARS AND CHANGE.

Weeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!!!!!

Sartorial Etiquette

Tips of the Day

Rae wrote:
Yeah… it really depends on the location, though. One location might have Diesel and Free People, another might have mostly Forever 21 and Gap… nothing against those brands, but I don’t really want to pay $6 for a used F21 top, right? In any case, if you sell and then don’t find anything you like, remember that you can also get a voucher for your 50% and take it to another location.

Deb wrote:
and if you’re curvy or plus size you can shop the same way now at Re/Dress NYC - the only vintage + resale store that caters to women wearing a size 14 + up (and a size 10 in vintage dresses + tops).
viva la resale! thanks for highlighting the importance of shopping in these places.
xox from another cheap jap

From Ra Ra ReSale! The Buff Bandwagon., 2008/12/17 at 12:01 AM

I Love A Good Story

I Wore a Spanx Unitard and I Think I Liked It

I recently inherited this Spanx Unitard from Mom’s lingerie drawer and discovered that it is, perhaps, the most impractical garment ever concocted. You can’t wear it as leggings because of the “double cotton gusset that opens to make life easier when Mother Nature calls,” aka the pee-hole (I’m not peeing with my pants on; I don’t care how effective that gusset is). And forgoing the gusset means removing everything you’re wearing over the top portion of the Unitard whenever you wee. Tres DRAG. Unless…
Spanx’s 79% Polyester and 21% Lycra Spandex/Elastane blend is impressively effective at smoothing out jiggly bits, so much so that a fitted turtleneck can be worn UNDER the top portion of the Unitard with little to no bunching. Kind of looks like a chic little vest, no? I added RL Ralph Lauren shorts (gifted to me by the uber-stylish Ellie in exchange for my promise to clean her closet) and another pair of Mom’s boots (on loan for two days, MAX)…so the bulk of the outfit is either free or stolen, depending on your perspective.

I never thought I’d encourage an undergarment that retails for $88, but over the past few days, I’ve become kind of obsessed with the Unitard. Like wore-it-two-days-in-a-row obsessed. Putting it on is like being enveloped by a safe, warm, spandex security blanket. Or something.

Nifty Thrifty

Hats Off To Meeeee

H&M Beanie = Good.

Sustainably Shopped H&M Beanie = GREAT.

Hat, Beacon’s Closet, $8.95.

Word.

Economic Shitstorm

Ra Ra ReSale! The Buff Bandwagon.

For those not in the know, Buffalo Exchange is basically an amped up, national version of Beacon’s Closet. It’s taken me this long to jump on the Buff Bandwagon because, until recently, their only NYC Metro Area store was in the Other Brooklyn, aka Williamsburg. While I’ve built up a tolerance to oversized, clear-lense glasses (and to those fun judge-y glares behind them…I will not hate hipsters I will not hate hipsters…), I start to lose it once the two-hour mark hits, and it takes that long just to sift through the disorganized shitshow that is Buff Exchange Brooklyn. After a few visits to the new East Village location, however, I can confidently say I am hooked for LIFE.

This is not to imply that the overall experience was without its snags. I’d arrived with two bags of mine and my mother’s un-worn and/or gently-used castoffs, anticipating substantial store credit in exchange. The buyer assessed me goods and deemed approximately one fourth of them worthy of Buff Exchange’s racks. ONE FOURTH?! My stuff was as good, if not better, than almost everything they sold. What the eff was going on? The wardrobe-related insecurity all over my face didn’t go unnoticed by the buyer, who responded with a surprisingly sympathetic look. “Your stuff’s great…it’s not that…it’s…” I felt like we were breaking up. She leaned in closer. “It’s that we’re, well…overstocked.”

Overstocked. This meant sellers like me were taking the 30% cash option instead of the 50% store credit option. I was open-minded about those of the clothes-for-cash ilk until I realized that their selling for cash fucks with my ability to sell for store credit. SO NOT OKAY.

Let’s explore this logically: If Buff Exchange buys clothes from you - clothes you’ve previously purchased and worn - there is a better-than-good chance that their racks offer wares in sync with your taste. Say they take $100 worth of stuff off your hands and you get $50 in store credit or $30 in cash and take the cash option. Know what inevitably happens to that cash? You spend it all and then some on an H&M dress. Buff Exchange has H&M dresses too…and Alice and Olivia and Castle Starr and Banana Republic and Nanette Lepore and Diesel. I saw a navy Diane von Furstenberg wrap dress for $28; I had to touch it to make sure I wasn’t dreaming.

Buff Exchange and stores of its ilk have a great thing going, but they can’t stay in business if you’re too chicken shit to sift through the racks. I watched their staff sort through six other people’s bags before mine, and hot damn! are they meticulous: No missing buttons, screwy zippers, pit stains, unintentional tears or funky smells allowed. Everything on those racks is almost-new or close to it. Nothing is going to bite you. Yes, it’s a little more work to find things here than in a fast-fashion chain, but you’ve got a little more money to spend; that makes it more than a fair trade. Buck up, and buy back from the place that’s so generously enabled you to unload some of your castoffs in a fiscally and environmentally responsible way. Or I’ll get you, my pretty, and your little dog too, for effing it up for the rest of us.

(Get ready to FLIP OUT when you see what my $45 in store credit got me. EEK!)

Oy Vey!

Stupid and “The City.”

Wait, a spin-off of The Hills reminiscent of Sex and The City?! What an ingenious marriage of youth, NYC and Fashion! So cutting edge, so fresh, so faaaahhbulous dahling. Gag me with a spoon.

I didn’t realize the full-retardation of Carrie Bradshaw’s cavalier attitude toward money - one that ultimately made me cringe even more than her cliched observations on all things Man - until I moved to her hometown. Her spending habits did more damage than even her faux-female empowerment act: Episode after episode, she squandered her menial writer’s salary on Manolo after Manolo, all too willing to pay full price. Only in the world of fiction could this irrational combination exist, but we bought it anyway, and sunk ourselves into debt right along with her. Where shopping’s concerned, SaTC’s heroine might just be the worst rolemodel we’ve ever had. And - in a monumentally stupid move - MTV’s about to unleash her spawn in the form of one Whitney Port. Recession, Shmecession.

According to Page Six, “It takes women as young as Whitney and her carefree cohorts to let us relive those frivolous, halcyon, spend-crazy days of Sex and the City. ‘We all need clothes, obviously, but to be fashionable right now is an extra,’ Whitney says.”

(…is an extra, what, exactly?) I don’t doubt that “The City” is Whit’s reality, but it’s not mine and I’m way too self-centered to give a shit about anything extraneous to me, obvs. I don’t need to see “The City” (see, like SaTC, without the S!) to know it’s like reading a fashion mag; its only lasting effect is that it leaves you thinking you *need* the apparel, shoes and accessories you’ve just seen. And that’s exactly what MTV’s banking on with this hot mess of a half hour.

I don’t know when being a young, cute girl in NYC became consistent with being a jackass about money. The only thing you need to acknowledge about money in your twenties is this:
You. Don’t. Have. Any. Yet. (If you do, in excess, it’s probably not your own. Moochface). This doesn’t mean you sacrifice living in the moment and/or shopping; it means you stop associating spontaneity with impulsively buying expensive crap.

Look, Whit, my beef isn’t with you. I’m sure your PR gig at DVF snags you all sorts of free goodies, so I’m going to give you the benefit of the doubt and assume that trench coat you obviously needed was a bonus, and not something you blew your entry-level salary on.

This is *reality*, right?