Dressing myself is fun. Dressing a mannequin is FUNNER.

I mean, come on, you know what it’s like to put outfits together: You lay it out on the bed; you think it’ll look amazing; you try on the combo; it looks like hell; you repeat the exercise until you’re out of steam; you resort to one of your standbys; you vow to never play dress up when you’re trying to get out the door again. Maybe that’s just me and I’m a total nutter. Whatevs.

Most apparel looks radically different on the hanger than it does on the body, but outfitting a mannequin gave me a whole new outlook on playing dress up. When you’re the model, the arduous task of dressing and undressing coupled with the self-criticism that tends to go along with trying on clothes results in one thing: Fear. Nothing kills creativity and boldness like being afraid of how it’s going to look. And while dressing a mannequin didn’t obliterate the insecurities exacerbated by trying new things, it changed my perspective on the whole getting dressed thang. When something doesn’t look good on us, our first instinct is to kick our own asses: We’re always too short, too fat, too pale, too old, too whatever. When something doesn’t look good on a dummy, you realize it’s not the body that’s the problem – it’s the garment. Maybe it’s ill-fitting, maybe it’s a weird pairing, maybe it’s made by a designer who’s ignorance of the female form is unparalleled (see Marc Jacobs). Granted, our dummy’s a size 4, which is still a far cry from the average American woman (size 14). But it has boobs, and it’s a lot more realistic than the less-than-zero mannequins gracing most retail stores today.

I’m not suggesting you go out and buy a dummy to avoid all the crap that arises whilst trying to get dressed. I just think reminding ourselves of the obvious when we do so – that more often than not, it’s not us, it’s the clothes – is a solid idea.

Where the eff was I? Oh riiiight – this outfit! Pairing tweeds and animal prints AND studs is kind of wild, and certainly not something I would have thought up sans the freedom afforded by the glorious headless dummy.

Apparently, it worked: A customer came in a few days after the outfit had been on display and asked to try on the skirt. I took it off the mannequin for her (unlike Goodwill, Housing Works and Angel Street Thrift Shop, we DO sell things from our window display on the spot ): She loved it, bought it and left giddy over her material buzz. The naked-bottomed dummy gave me another chance to play dress up – an activity that, thanks to AuH2O, isn’t quite as scary as it once seemed.

Outfit deets: Vintage Tweed Peacoat, $14.00; Moschino Cheap ‘n’ Chic Cardigan, $28.00; Luella for Target Miniskirt (hand-studded by yours truly), $28.00.

What the eff do I wear under this transparent vintage slip schmata?

I snagged the aforementioned slip at Zachary’s Smile’s Attic Sale a few months back; were it not for the awesomeness of shapewear, I’d still have absolutely no idea how to wear it.

Where the risque business trend’s concerned: Keep it dark. Keep it simple. And keep it short without exposing your hoo-ha.

Enter Shopbop Lookbooks: No Fall Trend Report is more drool-worthy or relevant to my personal taste. Shopbop doesn’t just have a knack for highlighting the best of Fall’s apparel, accessories, handbags and shoes; it manages to style the goods in ways as creative as they are wearable. I’m not saying go out and buy the site’s latest and greatest – the prices attached to its goods exemplify material obscenity. Browsing Shopbop Lookbooks is a look-don’t-touch exercise only. We look; we note; we hit a thrift, resale, vintage or consignment store; we review our notes; we find a version of a coveted thing for a fraction of its shopbop price!


Here’s a breakdown of one of the site’s coveted looks, and some tips on how to shop ‘it second hand.

Cadet Set

Right now, I’m reveling in the crisp respite from the stifling city heat. I’m thinking about boots and tights and outerwear; I’m thinking it’s all kinds of awesome that my fave buy-sell-trades stock according to season; I’m thinking about the glory of finding a $350 Theory cashmere sweater for forty-five buckaroos.

I don’t have enough room in the fashion section of my brain to think about what I’ll be wearing next April – I live in the present, for fuck’s sake. How, then, can I reconcile next season’s looks with this season’s outfits?

By highlighting the select few that manage to transcend seasonal reality.

A word on trends: Like love in The 40 Year Old Virgin, they’re a mysterious fig. I tend to view trends as an urban fashion myth – if the same thing were In season after season, we’d be robbed of an excuse to buy more crap we don’t need, yes? Yes.

This doesn’t mean trends should be ignored altogether; it simply means they’re to be taken with a big fat grain of salt. Trends aren’t rules so much as potential nuggets of inspiration.

Here’s a breakdown of some NYFW Spring 2011 ready-to-wear trends versatile enough to inject creativity into your winter wardrobe choices.

You’re welcome.

1.White Out

Yes, it’s fine to wear white all year round, particularly if you’re an attention whore a la moi. Tone down the Spring factor with black opaque tights; badass it up with motorcycle boots or something of the platform ankle bootie ilk. In terms of shoulder coverage, a cropped pleather jacket would make for a stellar pairing. White now, woo woo.

2. Prairie Dawg

Do the long floral thang in fall via riding boots and a denim jacket. If you’re a full-on trend whore, swap out the latter for a shapeless, nineties-era flannel (shown with a similar Charlotte Ronson dress last week. No, I don’t get it).

3. Short Suits

I’m obvs psyched that shorts are now considered appropriate office apparel, but if you’re wary of the trend, try a dark-colored pair with tights in a similar shade. Also follow the proportions pictured – the long-cut blazer puts it all in balance. Wear with flats or pumps, depending on dress code leniency. Heeled knee-high boots + Shorts = Potential Slut Factor. I’m just saying.

4. Loungerie

Lingerie as outerwear is not to be taken seriously a la the above. I’m not suggesting you go full nipple or anything: Sheer nightie stuffs are to be treated as layering tools only. Throw one on over a shift dress and cinch the whole shebang with a belt. Cool beans.

5. Canadian Tuxedo

Because anything that used to be a faux pas should be embraced as evidence of fashion’s ridiculousness. Particularly if it’s an all-year-round thang like denim. Loves it!

All the above is par for the NYC summer course. What’s not? 103 degrees. That’s another way of saying it’s HOT AS BALLS. This year’s record-breaking heat and humidity obvs begs one crucial question: How the eff are we supposed to get dressed?

Walking the streets in a wet bathing suit might be an option, if we weren’t talking about a city with a highly concentrated male creep factor. I’m in no mood to fend off cat calls and leers from sweaty onlookers, particularly when I’m already pissed at the weather – I might do something rash, like preemptively pull the trigger on my pepper spray.

So, if we want to dress for ludicrous heat without looking like we’ve stepped out of an American Apparel ad, what do we wear? eHow’s How to Dress for a Heat Wave has some decent suggestions, one of which we’ve all heard before: Wear light colors.

Light-colored clothing reflects the sun, which keeps heat away from the body, while dark colors absorb the heat and make you feel even hotter.

Related anecdote: My parents just got back from a trip to Israel – a trip that included daily desert treks. Dad wore light colored shirts on said treks, which did nada to minimize body heat. Sick of schvitzing his face off, Dad did something bonkers: On the final trek, he took a cue from the locals, and wore black instead. He found that he wasn’t just comfortable; he barely broke a sweat.

RIDDLE ME THIS: Why does a heat-absorbing color (black) cool the body more effectively than a heat-reflective color (white)?

Answering the above required a bit of geekery, and by that I mean I browsed an array of Physics Forums to figure it out. You’re welcome. After sifting through much scientific mumbo jumbo, I happened upon a question similar to my own: Why do Bedouins wear black robes? (Bedouins are a predominantly desert-dwelling Arab group, FYI, and yes, I had to google that too.)

Black clothing absorbs sunlight and the heat radiating from your body, but if it is loose-fitting, and there is wind, the wind convects the heat away faster than it is absorbed. White clothing reflects sunlight, but also reflects internal heat back towards your body, so the net effect under identical conditions is less cooling than if you wore black. Desert-dwelling nomadic people such as the Tuaregs wear loose-fitting black clothing, and have been doing so for a very, very long time. If there were an advantage to wearing white clothes, you’d certainly expect they’d have figured that out by now.

A quirky conversational exchange accompanied and further explained the above answer.

If you are packing for a trip to the desert would it be better to pack light or dark clothes? The answer is not a simple as you might think, as Don and Yael discuss.

D: Hey, Yael, check out my new white linen suit. It’s going to keep me cool on my vacation to the Mojave desert.

Y: That is one snazzy suit, Don.

D: Oh, I’m stylin’. Plus, everyone knows that white reflects heat and black absorbs it. Yes, if you’re out in the sun, you’re better off wearing white.

Y: Not always, Don. After all, Bedouins, the nomadic people who spend their entire lives in the desert, wear black robes.

D: But that doesn’t make sense. Dark surfaces get warmer in the sun than light surfaces. You’d think the Bedouins would have figured that out by now.

Y: Don, Don, Don. Things are never that simple. You’re right that the air underneath black fabric warms up faster than the air underneath white fabric. At the same time, though, black fabric provides more shade than white fabric, and this decreases the amount of light that directly reaches the skin. Plus, a lot depends on the type of clothing you’re wearing. You see, warm air rises. And when it does, it’s replaced by cool air. And if you happen to be wearing a robe, all that movement of the warm air creates a breeze that sucks up cooler air from the bottom of the robe and pushes it out the top.

D: So wearing a black robe is like having a suit with a built in fan.

Y: Exactly. But again, the key is that the robe is loose-fitting. Otherwise, there isn’t enough room for the air to circulate.

Hilarious, adorable AND educational – if I’d had a text book like this, maybe I wouldn’t have gotten a C- in Physics. Bygones. Now, NYC doesn’t exactly have desert-esque winds, so I can’t honestly speak to whether or not loose-fitting black clothing trumps loose-fitting white clothing in this climate. But it seems as though white – what with its tendency to reflect heat back onto your body and all – is not the only answer. A loose-fitting black garment coupled with an occasional breeze might be a preferable alternative, methinks.

To test the aforementioned theory, I’m heading to Goodwill in search of a black linen maternity dress or derivation thereof. Function trumps Fashion in temps like these.

Smoking update: Eleven days, NO CIGGIES. The first three days were a bitch and a half, what with my body withdrawing from chemicals and all. On the fourth day, I started feeling like myself again. And on the sixth day, I did something I hadn’t done in two solid years: I went for a run. Two and a half miles later, I was fully sold on quitting for good.

Kumbaya, beotches.

I also had the pleasure of meeting some of the glossy’s editors in person, who couldn’t have been nicer or easier to work with. It appears bitchiness isn’t a prerequisite for working in fashion. Either these girls are an exception to the rule, or I don’t know everything. I’m thinking it’s the latter.

I guess I can’t be right all the time.

I make it a point to buy sandals that don’t eff up my feet. This is a worthless exercise. I don’t know if the fashion footwear industry’s engaged in a conspiracy in which style and comfort can’t coexist or what, but every sandal I purchase inevitably wreaks havoc on my heels and toes. The resulting blisters and cuts prompted a gasp on behalf of my lovely Nepalese nail technician as I settled into the chair for my pedicure.

Pedi Lady: What did you DO?!

Cheap JAP: I bought new sandals, and my feet are mad at me.

Pedi Lady: Did you put anything on them?

Cheap JAP: I’ve been putting Neosporin on them for weeks. I wear Band-AIDs to keep them from getting worse. Nothing is working.

She shook her head, as though saddened by the sight of sandal-mauled feet, and seemed deep in thought as she worked around the cuts. After the soak portion of the event was over, she nudged me away from my magazine.

Pedi Lady: Can I try something for this? (motions toward cuts)

Cheap JAP: Sure. Whatever you think is best.

She nodded seriously, as though readying herself for an outburst to come. She then proceeded to squeeze straight-up lemon juice all over my feet.

Cheap JAP: WHAT WAS THAT?! It burns! It burns like acid!

Pedi Lady: I’m sorry, I’m sorry (blows on feet, which does approximately nothing to minimize the pain), I’m sorry… it was the only thing to do.

Cheap JAP: Does it work?

Pedi Lady: Oh, yes. It’s the best thing, lemons.

I woke up the next morning to new feet. Weeks of dogged Neosporin application hadn’t done jack to reverse the damage; one application of lemon juice later, I was en route to recovery.

The natural skin remedy bestowed on me by the Nepalese nail technician wasn’t a fluke. I’ve used it many times in the weeks since – best thing ever. The moment a scratch, blister or cut becomes visible is the moment it gets doused with good old fashioned citric acid. It hurts like a beotch, obvs. But the sting subsides as quickly as it comes on, and the perks extend beyond quickly healed skin. Lemon juice is more than an anti-infective; it effectively treats blackheads, clogged pores, and even minimizes the appearance of scars when applied regularly.

This summer, when sandals inevitably eff up your feet, do yourself a favor and skip the obligatory trip to CVS for Band-AIDs, blister-busting adhesives, skin-healing ointments, scar treatments, et. al. It’s all crap designed to distract you from going the non-product route. Hit the supermarket for lemons instead. No chemicals, no packaging, no fuss. Your feet (and your wallet) will thank you.

Sometimes, the juice really is worth the squeeze.

What? I fully intend on toeing the slut line until I no longer feel comfortable in hemlines that fail the middle school arms-by-the-side test. I’m also from a state that takes the notion of class and turns it on its head. Viva la armpit.

Where was I?

Oh riiiiiiiiiiight. The mini-dress.

My first thought when I saw this particular mini at Second Time Around last week was what the EFF is going on with the hem? I only tried it on out of sheer curiosity: The ridiculous elastic bubble ruffle adorning the bottom was simply too intriguing to pass up.

Would an elastic hem make the dress stay in place? Could it adequately prevent the unintended crotch shot? Might it negate the need for spandex bike shorts altogether?

Yes, yes and YES.

In order to fully comprehend the brilliance that is the elastic hem, one must trust in its powers and don it sans spandex. I did this the other night. The dress stayed in place for the duration of the evening, which included a ten minute walk to the bar in windy conditions. No risk of crotch shots, no bike shorts required. DIG IT.

Mmkay, let’s talk brand and cost. The elastic hemmed mini hails from audrey 3+1 – a relatively cheapie (also possibly defunct) line whose dresses retail for around $38.99. What’d I pay at STA?

Under $20. Niiiice. I initially paired the dress with only a Zachary’s Smile belt (five buckaroos, Attic Sale). Then, I decided to dress outside the box and add some crazy. It’s summer, and I’ve been in neutrals for far too long.

I KNEW the Tibi Jacket was a good move!

Colors! Prints! Eek!

P.S. Those wedges are amazing and perilous and L.A.M.B. Bought ages ago at Burlington Coat Factory. Can’t walk in them for shit. Love them regardless. Close-up to follow.

The Last Time I Wore Ridiculously High Heels, I was en route to see a band on the LES, mere minutes away from leaving my apartment. Hair, makeup and outfit were doneskies – all I had to do was put on my totally badass DKNY Patent Leather Platform Mary Janes and get out the door.


I’d snagged the shoes a few days beforehand at Second Time Around (the fabbiest, most reasonably priced consignment shop in all of NYC – stay tuned for full-on kvelling). The thrill of scoring a pair of $300 heels for a mere $65 made the question of whether or not I could actually walk in them seem irrelevant. I tried them on and did a two-minute lap around the store. They made my heart sing and my feet say You’ve got to be kidding.

I should have listened to my feet.

Bad Shoes and the Women Who Love Them is an eye-opener of a book – one I read before I donned those ridiculously high heels (one I WISH I’d read before I purchased them. Obvs.)

Whilst paging through the PDF copy, I found myself in sync with author Leora Tanenbaum‘s feminist take on feminine footwear. Think about why we wear high heels (‘high’ meaning three or more inches). They make us feel statuesque, powerful, sexy and independent… for all of twenty minutes. After that point, our feet start to cramp. Our ankles start to wobble. Our toes ache, our heels blister, our plans get delayed due to an emergency stop off at Duane Reade for band-aids – you know the drill.

The reality of wearing high heels is riddled with irony. You can’t take the subway, you can’t stand for long period of time, you can’t keep pace with your fellow walkers. You’re not fully mobile, so you probably shouldn’t travel alone, because you can’t run away if you get attacked (that’s my New York paranoia talking – whatevs, better safe than sorry).

All the above amounts to high heels robbing you of everything they promise. So why do you still wear them? Why do I?

Pain alone isn’t enough to deter us from shoving our feet into unforgiving footwear, and that’s exactly why Bad Shoes is a must-read. Apparently, high heels compromise more than comfort – worn consistently over time, they compromise the shape and functionality of your feet. Leora’s extensive research in this regard amounts to a big fat CAUTION sign. Her book might not convince you to give up heels altogether, but the personal accounts from women who’ve suffered irreversible physical damage in the name of fab footwear will make you consider wearing them less.

I had the pleasure of chatting with Leora via phone to get the inside scoop on the writing of Bad Shoes. Here’s some snippets from our interview:

So, why shoes? What prompted you to write this book?
I’m forty now, and when I was thirty-eight, my feet started to hurt. I was like ‘Huh, that’s weird’… They hurt even when I wore flip flops or flats. I made an appointment with a podiatrist and got diagnosed with bunions. I’m not the type of person who goes around tottering in high heels every day, so the fact that I got bunions made me think about other women, and what might happen to them. You don’t think that something you wear in the name of fashion could possibly cause harm physically. What I learned was shocking.

Can you wear high heels and still be feminist?
Yes! I would never tell women, ‘Don’t wear high heels.’ It’s just a question of not wearing them all the time. Where the Alexander McQueen Armadillo shoe’s concerned – I would venture to say nobody should ever wear that shoe. Not only is it bad for you to walk in; it’s bad for you to stand up in. Putting aside that extreme, unattainable shoe: If someone wants to wear five-inch platforms for two hours when she’s sitting down eating dinner, fine.

Why do you think women buy bad shoes?
The problem starts with shoe manufacturers. They make the mold too narrow across the board because we, as a culture, have a belief that women’s shoes should look dainty. Manufacturers are scared that if they make shoes that fit women properly, women won’t want to buy them. So it’s not entirely our fault that we buy and wear shoes that are too narrow for our feet. That’s what’s available.

What brands of shoes would you recommend for women who want to wear heels sans damaging their feet?
I’m hesitant to endorse any one brand, because everyone’s feet are shaped differently. Go to a good old fashioned shoe store, get your feet measured, and try on twenty different pairs. Shoes are like jeans that way. Once you find a brand that works for you, stick to it.

Note: In spite of being in agreement with everything Leora said, I still found myself trying to get around what her book makes perfectly clear: High heels are bad for your feet, and the best way to head off permanent damage is to wear them less. Leora didn’t sugar-coat it.

What about orthotics? If you wear orthotic inserts with high heels, does it minimize the damage?
No insert can be a long-term solution. The better approach is to limit wearing high heels altogether.

What if I wear comfortable heels that aren’t higher than two inches?
You might be able to walk around in them all day. Some women have better feet than others. (Long-term effects) sometimes depend on luck and genetics. But the research across the board says…
…that I have to deal with being five two and a half and not wear heels on a regular basis.
Exactly.

The launch party for Bad Shoes and the Women Who Love Them kicks off tomorrow at Tip Top Shoes, from 6 – 8pm. Stay tuned for the full deets on the event (and on the contest attached to it, which involves winning a free pair of stylish, practical shoes that won’t muck up your tootsies. Yaay!).

While I remain torn between the allure of wearing impractical footwear and the reality of what they do to your feet, I’d be lying if I said Bad Shoes didn’t have something to do with what ended up happening the last time I wore ridiculously high heels.

Cut to me, trying on those badass DKNY Platform Patent Leather Mary Janes, about to take them out for a night on the town. The ankle wobbling started as soon as I put them on. I nearly face-planted on the walk from my bedroom to my bathroom. I ultimately realized that if I wore them out, I’d be too preoccupied trying not to fall on my ass to hear the music, much less have a good time. So I swapped the five-inch platforms for two-inch wedges, trading a painful evening fraught with danger for a fun, carefree night.

I’m still bonkers for the DKNYs. Whether or not I’ll ever be able to walk in them is another matter.

I figure I’ll take Leora’s advice and wear them out to dinner… where I’ll probably face-plant en route to the bathroom.

Whatever. I’m bonkers for the style now, particularly in the form of these Robert Rodriguez puppies.

I was still in denial re: harem pants when I edited this photo, as I made a point to call them “slouch trousers” in lieu of what they really are. Same diff.

Robert Rodriguez Pants – harem and otherwise – retail for around $286.00. Ra-ra-resale and yaay for a SICK Buff Ex score. Secondhand and on-trend.

Loves it!

I usually stick to tops at this particular location; I popped in a few weeks ago, saw that all pants were marked at $2.99, and made an exception.

The beauty: Trovata High Waist Cords
The beast: Nylon Patterned Crazy Pants

My Uncle Chip donned a similar pair of crazy pants for the bulk of the eighties, which he likely accessorized with a terrycloth sweatband a la Richie Tenenbaum (yes, he is THAT COOL). He passed them onto my little brother a few years ago; I didn’t have the good sense to fight for them then. Uncle Chip: This one’s for you.

In other news, the weather’s been all kinds of shitty as of late. Spring storms: This one’s for you.

Attics are stellar resources for unconventional accessories.

(DSquared blazer, $16.00 @ Chelsea Goodwill.)

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).

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.

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.

Also: Many of you have asked after the origin of the stunning, buttery, over-the-knee boots pictured a few days ago.

The brand: Tashkent by Cheyenne

Retail value: $600.00+

What I paid: $145.00

For full deets on this epic score, see Resale Realizes a Buttery Boot Dream.

When you’re on a tight budget, extraneous purchases often come with a side helping of guilt. If shopping is to be fun, we must get the guilt OUT. Ranked in accordance with the level of guilt our purchases are apt to make us feel, the Triad looks like this:

3. Fast Fashion

-trends-for-less + environmentally unsound = some guilt

2. Responsible Retail

-reasonably-priced staples + eco-conscious brands = less guilt

1. Thrift

-cheap material thrills + recycling others’ castoffs = zero guilt

Just a theory. In other news: No, you’re not hallucinating – I chopped off all my hair.

After ten years of doing the long locks thang, it was time. New year, new ‘do and all that jazz.

To those with long hair considering a change: DO IT.

It takes a fraction of the time to style; it’s a lot more fun to experiment with; it will make your life easier and better.

(FYI: Post-cut ponytails can be donated to Pantene Beautiful Lengths.)