Obsession: sunglasses

I used to hate the way sunglasses looked on me! It was the hardest thing to find sunglasses that didn't make my cheeks look huge and my mouth look tiny. Oddly enough, I have recently begun a new obsession with sunglasses. Perhaps I am finally making peace with myself and accepting my big cheeks and small mouth for who they are?...psh, no! Below are my favorites and what they "say": 

My "super-fab granny glasses with an old Hollywood style", acquired at a San Francisco music festival for $5

My hipster "all I wear is American Apparel and Urban Outfitters" glasses, acquired in Paris from MANGO for $19.99

Notes From Paris

So, it's been a while since the first post but in my defense I have to say that since my roommates and I have moved in we've endured a series of apartment mishaps including but not limited too: power outages, unbearably squeaky bunk beds, doors that will not shut or open, doors without locks, keys that do not open doors, lights that mysteriously turn off, and finally... Internet that was installed and then promptly quit working. The past two weeks I've been slumming it in cafes around the greater Shattuck area in search of wireless Internet and the perfect iced white mocha. I simply keep repeating to myself the amount of our incredibly low rent like a mantra that will keep me afloat "$475 a month, $475 a month, $475 a month...". Now that I've finally begun to settle in I have decided that it's time to take a moment to reflect on my Parisian escapades so here it goes:

You can imagine the amazing amount of people/fashion watching I did and had I had more guts and better language skills I would have taken photographs of everyone I saw to put up here. Unfortunately, it is a bit rough explaining to a non-English speaking stranger that you would like to post a picture of them on the Internet without crossing some sort of global boundary from friendly stranger to touristic stalker. So instead I will contribute my latest nugget of wisdom that I came to realize while wedged between loud seventies prints at a vintage stand in a flea market in Paris. My friends and I were combing through racks of vintage dresses when Taylor came across an amazing turquoise dress with a rose pattern, deep pockets, a full skirt, a sweetheart neckline and a criss-crossed back complete with buttons (as pictured above next to a beautiful Parisian fountain). When she tried it on and came out from behind the flimsy curtain dressing room it was clear that it fit perfectly...it was made for her!!! It only took me a few minutes to find my dress from within the chaos, a black wispy silk dress with a gold rose pattern, loose top, fitted waist, and collarless neckline. After we haggled both dresses down to 20 Euro (and I bought a pair of purple suede ankle boots) and left happy I realized what it is that I love so much about vintage shopping: it is the process of finding your perfect match in clothing form. Like finding the perfect boy, you can't just go pick out a generic type (or size), you have to try on a whole bunch before you find one that looks as if it was made for you. There's something about struggling through a line-up of funky hit and miss dresses and tops (or boys!) until you find the special one that hugs you perfectly. For a reasonable price you get a dress that no one else will have and for that reason I cherish my mismatched collection of house-wife fifties and go-go seventies dresses. I have to admit I've developed a relationship with the elderly lady who owns the local vintage store in my hometown and she regularly gives me discounts because of my frequent visits. Nothing can cure the no-boyfriend blues like sifting through mountains of floral patterns, dainty gloves, veiled hats, and old belts until I find an item that falls under the soul mate category more so than my ex-boyfriend ever did!

                                                                                           

bacchanal

I just arrived home from a summer full of random beauty and semi-dangerous adventures while roaming around europe and i now have four days (thats a lie, I now have two) to unpack the remnants of my summer indulgence and repack myself into my new apartment in Berkeley and into the mindset of a collegiate co-ed. So being the bacchanal* little girl that I am I decide that it would be a good time to.... start the fashion blog i've always wanted to write!!!! Of course, this is the logical answer to the amount of responsible tasks I have at hand. So lets start the introduction.... You might have guessed that I procrastinate, I love making black and white prints in the darkroom and have an affinity for all photography in general, I have huge calluses on my feet from dance, there is nothing I love more than finding the perfect dress at a little vintage shop (There will for sure be a blog devoted to my vintage obsessions later), I have developed a habit of randomly walking up to people introducing myself and making new friends, I am half-swiss and just to be cliched I eat an abnormal amount of chocolate and cheese, I want to work with refugees or displaced people especially youth (or at a fashion mag...same thing!), I do production for the fashion magazine at my university, I have an obsession with big earrings, I wear my moms old pin striped leggings from the eighties, I lay on boulders at the river, I listen to my i-pod while staring out the train window, I secretly write poetry that no one ever reads, I would like to date a boy that plays the cello, I like wine, I used to have a pony and rabbits and chickens and ducks and even cows, now I just am trying to be fashionable, get over my ex-boyfriend, and get in to the classes I need to complete my major. So thats pretty much me in a blog! there's more to come about my fashion obsessions and all things related. I think I will be posting a lot about music, books, art etc and things other than clothes themselves because I believe that fashion is a culture and not just something you wear. After all, in fashion we are selling an image, a lifestyle, not just a dress or a pair of pants.

*For those who don't know and in order to clarify the title of this blog, Bacchanal and Bacchich means the followers of or having to do with the Bacchanalia, a Roman festival celebrating Bacchus, or Dionysus, the greek god of wine. This god (and this festival) symbolize indulgence, madness, and ecstasy. Normally they included massive amounts of wine, music, and dancing with the purpose of ending worries and troubles. Essentially the Bacchae were a cult of women who took part in orgys of sorts and worshiped Dionysus. Dionysus was and is a huge inspiration to many artist, musicians and poets because he is a symbol of "the fundamental, unrestrained aesthetic principle of force, music, and intoxication versus the one of sight, reason, form, and beauty" (this is quoted from wikipedia people so it must be good). Therefore, I use the reference Bacchich in my blog because I'd like to believe that in my youth I lead a somewhat indulgent, wild, sensual, hectic, and beautifully unrestrained life reflected in everything I do right down to the quirkiness of the clothes I wear. yes people, this entry has been the most intellectual stimulation i've had all summer....