Parting sartorial advice, and no sweatpants ever

When my mother dropped me off for my freshman year of college, she gave me a hug on Bigelow Boulevard and whispered in my ear, “If you become one of those kids who wears sweatpants all the time, I won’t let you come home.”

The four years since my mother’s stern advice have flown by faster than Heidi Montag’s disastrous plastic surgery transformation, but I can confidently say I’ve learned a lot during my stay at Pitt. So I present to you, for my final column, a list of lessons. Some of these things I’ve said before — others I’ve just realized recently. They are all of equal importance. (Except, perhaps, the bit about skirt lengths. That you can feel free to ignore.)

Generally speaking, when people offer advice, I assume they’re not talking to me. The bits and pieces I do absorb, I struggle to keep at the forefront of my mental repertoire and only consider from time to time.

So I offer you this advice, knowing quite well that you might not listen to it all. “Sam is talking to someone else,” you’re thinking. And that’s OK. Head for the Sudoku. If you’re willing to put off studying for finals a little longer, though, here is what I’ve learned and what I’d advise:

1. Always thank the people who matter. To my roommates who have patiently waited for me to pick out an outfit all these years, thank you. To the professors who didn’t say anything when I slipped in to class late because I couldn’t decide on said outfit, thank you. To H&M, which has provided me with an endless stream of closet additions, I thank you most of all.

2. College is a time of consumption. You eat when you’re bored, spend money when you’re stressed, drink when you’re celebrating (even if you’re just celebrating the fact that you made it to Thursday). I’m not going to tell you to stop drinking — I’m no hypocrite — but I will tell you to watch your spending. Buy what you can’t live without. It’s possible to have a closet of things that are absolutely extraordinary if you don’t waste money on things that are positively dreadful.

3. Don’t overwork yourself. Sometimes it’s better to let yourself relax before you dive into an important assignment. Fact: Facebook stalking is a perfectly acceptable form of procrastination when it is used to look through the pictures of friends who dress well. There’s a whole world of outfit ideas to absorb by clicking though recently added photos.

4. I should say that my biggest accomplishment of college was learning the appropriate usage of the em-dash and to differentiate between its and it’s. In actuality, my biggest accomplishment was learning to apply eyeliner on the inside of my eyelids. It’ll make your Friday nights so much better, I swear.

5. Laugh at your own mistakes, but really, try to look your best at all times — you never know when you’ll be on camera. There was this time I accidentally thought it would be a good idea to film a Dating on Demand profile (curse you, persuasive Comcast recruiters!) on a night I hadn’t washed my hair. Embarrassing doesn’t even begin to describe.

6. When buying a new dress, always double check the length. I have had some near-disasters with night wear that could have easily been avoided if I had bothered to walk out of the dressing room and look in a three-way mirror. On the other hand, if any of you ladies enjoy walking down Oakland Avenue as the object of loose-moral mishaps, then don’t double check at all. The shorter, the better.

7. I recently borrowed (OK, basically stole from the trunk of my friend Alex’s car) a collection of New Yorker writer Malcolm Gladwell’s essays. In the preface, he says the best people to interview for a story are the ones who don’t have a reputation to protect. “Self-consciousness,” he says, “is the enemy of ‘interestingness.’” It is true — both in story telling and fashion. Think about it: The people who have the most compelling style are the ones who aren’t worried about protecting their image or conforming to a certain socially acceptable “look.”

I spent a whole lot of my undergraduate career being self-conscious — worrying that I wasn’t smart enough, talented enough, well-dressed enough — and you know what? It all really doesn’t matter. The second you stop worrying, good things start happening. I promise, you’re interesting just the way you are.

I think I’ve enjoyed college more than should be legally allowed, so it’s terrifying that it all will end in less than a week.

I’ve met some remarkably talented people who I’m privileged to call my friends, and I became, roughly, the person I always wanted to be.

The next wave of my life is still up in the air but there is one thing I know for sure: It is very possible to get ahead by working hard, but it is so much easier when you’re dressed the part.

To my fellow breed of anti-pajamas-in-public types, I raise a pumped fist and say, “Solidarity.” To the rest of you, remember: Sweatpants are never the answer.

I get you.

Before I begin, please don’t laugh at me.

I’ve harbored this weird obsession with fake glasses for the past year. I know they go against my anti-hipster bent, but what can I say? I want in on the cult.

It all began in London. While studying abroad, I spent nearly every Friday morning perusing Portobello Market — a huge outdoor cluster of street vendors in Notting Hill. At the market, there was a sunglass stand owned by this hilarious vendor who always wore giant plastic clown glasses. He’d help everyone figure out exactly which pair they should buy — throwing frames around the tent and giving customers a thumbs up or a thumbs down.

Once, I put on a pair of square fake glasses and peered into one of the stand’s tiny mirrors. I loved them, and I waved down the owner for a second opinion.

“No, no,” he said. “You look too serious in those. You look like my doctor.”

“Oh,” I said. Reluctantly, I put them down, bought a pair of huge tortoiseshell sunglasses and tried to forget about my craving for fake specs.

I had all but given up on my dream of looking like a bookish young coed until a few weeks ago, when I borrowed my friend Justin’s pair of plastic glasses for a day.

Immediately, I became re-infatuated and went out to buy a pair for myself. But thus far, they’ve been sitting on top of my dresser with the price tag still attached ($6 at Forever 21, if anyone’s interested). I’m chickening out — I’m too afraid of people making fun of me when I wear them.

Fashion, after all, is the most basic form of nonverbal communication — without a word, your dress can convey your personality. So what would fake glasses say about me? Either that I’m an extroverted attention craver or quiet and reclusive. You take your pick.

And it’s not just glasses. A few weeks ago, New York Magazine’s fashion blog, The Cut, posted an entry about the slowly evolving sweatpants trend.

But before any of you late sleepers get too excited, these aren’t the kind of sweatpants with “PITT” screen-printed down the leg. These are made of cashmere or high quality jersey and cut to look like much trendier pants.

The Cut’s article detailed how the trend started (with designers Alexander Wang and Isabel Marant) before explaining its paradox: To the untrained eye, they look sloppy and ridiculous, but to those in the fashion know, they look ahead of the curve. For all we know, everyone will be wearing harem sweatpants two years from now.

Despite my constant outcries against dressing like a slob, I actually kind of like the new iteration of sweatpants. But here’s the thing: Even if I did muster the courage to buy a pair, I’d be worried about how other people would perceive them — always fearing someone would cast me one glance and say, “Oh look, you’re a slob too.”

That’s the thing about fashion: For every person who praises your bravery to rock something different, there’s going to be someone who laughs hysterically at you the second you walk by. It’s up to you to decide who’s worth listening to.

As for me, I’m still trying to put on my brave face and wear my fake glasses in public. If and when I do muster enough confidence to head outdoors, please, I beg of you, be kind.

Shopping always a gamble

I’m standing in the three-way mirror of Banana Republic, and it is not my finest hour. My dressing room is a veritable graveyard of black-suiting separates. This room, my friends, is where pencil skirts and slim-cut trousers came to die.

“I have my first real job interview on Thursday, so I’m, like, stressing, you know?” I whimper to the sales associate. “Everything has to be perfect.”

I have her cut pocket threads and bring me different blazers as I rotate in front of the mirror, smoothing seams and deciding which one makes me look the most employable.

I try on the same suit at least three times before I ask to put it on hold so I can look in other stores. I avoid glimpsing at anything that isn’t black wool, despite the fact that spring florals are far more fun to shop for.

“Your interview is on Thursday? Kind of late notice,” the lady at J. Crew mumbles to me. Note to everyone: Don’t wait until the week of your first important interview to find the ideal suit.

An hour later, I’ve found nothing better. I return to Banana Republic, pick up the suit I left on hold and wince as I swipe my check card. Fashion Catch-22: Suits are expensive. You need a job to pay for these suits. You need these suits to get a job. Someone should start a revolution where tunics and leggings are appropriate business attire.

As I walk back out to Walnut Street, I keep thinking about what that J. Crew associate said to me. “Your interview is on Thursday? Kind of late notice” rings over and over in my head. Was I wrong to wait until I actually needed a suit to bother buying one? Suddenly, I find my sartorial carpe diem — “Don’t buy what you don’t absolutely love or need” — severely challenged.

In recent years, I have been openly self-congratulating about my will power for saving my dollars for the clothes I really want. I do not have drawer upon drawer of things I don’t wear. My wardrobe might not have substantial variety, but I’m also not calling my mother once a month to ask for more money because I couldn’t resist scooping up H&M’s sale rack every weekend.

My mother, also a fashion lover, grilled the “buy what you can’t live without, leave the rest” mentality into my malleable brain at a young age. She taught me to choose quality over quantity.

There were a few years, admittedly, that I ignored her advice. Upon getting my first job (I worked at a sporting goods store. I know. The irony that I once knew how to fit people for shin guards is not lost on me.) and subsequently my first income, I spent an unreasonable amount of money on crap at the King of Prussia Mall. Once I realized what a pain it was to dig through piles of ugly retail mistakes, I vowed to keep my pennies until I decided what they were worth spending on.

Another lesson that my mother has continually tried to teach me — which I am just now realizing I should follow — is that it is always worth spending money on the perfect classics when you find them.

Many people insist, my mother included, that it is worth buying things like evening gowns when the deal — rather than the occasion – strikes. The likelihood of stumbling upon the perfect dress when a black tie event pops up out of nowhere is slim to none. Plan ahead and peruse the racks every now and then until you find something you love and you’ll likely be the best-dressed attendee.

But where do you draw the line between purchasing something “because it’s a steal and you’ll need it in the future” and buying something “because it’s a steal and you only think you’ll need it in the future?” “I’ll wear this all the time” is the mantra of the over-indulgent.

That isn’t to say there aren’t some occasions that are worth shopping for in advance — job interviews obviously being one of them. I also would have appreciated buying some summer clothes before the weather suddenly became unbearably hot a few weeks ago. I was completely unprepared to switch out my winter staples.

Shopping is, essentially, a gamble. The only advice I can offer is buckle down, calculate your odds and be as honest as possible with yourself when you ask, “Will I really wear this?”

Fashion more than dressing the part

When people ask me what my major is, I’m perfectly OK with saying, “Writing. I study writing.” It might not be the most lucrative program, but I’m proud of that identity. Do you finance majors get to sulk around in dimly lit coffee shops and contemplate the meaning of existence — for a grade? I don’t think so.

When people ask me what I like to write about, however, I hesitate. I’m reluctant to respond, “Fashion,” partly because whenever people ask, I always seem to be dressed like a complete slob. Can’t anyone ask when I’m wearing a cute blazer and not an oversized t-shirt with flat hair?

But I’m also reluctant because there’s a certain stereotype associated with people who center their thoughts on fashion — that they’re ditzy.

Now, I’m certainly not declaring myself a great intellectual mind. On the contrary, my mental capacity is fairly limited. I don’t understand the intricacies of the stock market, and bioengineering is a complete mystery to me. However, I am confident enough that my intellectual capabilities are at least greater than, say, Stephanie Pratt’s.

Back when I used to watch “The Hills” in the hopes of gaining some kind of insight as to how the fashion industry worked (I didn’t), I remember being astounded that this bimbo could maneuver her way into a fashion PR job. The real issue I had, though, was the message she was sending to avid “Hills”-watching girls everywhere: You can be a complete and total idiot and make it in the fashion world.

The perceived connection between unimpressive mental abilities and fashion is nothing new. I theorize that this stance is derived from a pre-feminist attitude that women should look pretty and nothing else. Ever since, fashion has retained a bad rep as an interest for those who have the time to bother with it.

But what qualifies something as an “academic” interest anyway? Art enthusiasts are certainly never questioned intellectually, and isn’t fashion, essentially, art? There’s so much brain power going into the industry that it requires creative and business-minded individuals alike. If the fashion world were actually run by a bunch of idiots, we’d all be running around in paper sacks.

And so I declare that if you are a blog-reading, magazine-studying, fashion-obsessed being like myself, it’s OK. I believe that it’s possible to be smart and still into fashion. So the next time someone asks what I write about (so long as I’m not wearing a sweatshirt and Vans) I’ll proudly say, “Fashion.”

Thrifting a soothing experience for stressed sartorial souls

Like legions of other graduating seniors, I consistently vacillate between a job search-induced state of panic and an eerily uncharacteristic come-what-may attitude. Worrying about how I’ll support myself after graduation has become a gruesome daily task.

Incidentally, my lack of income creates a Catch-22: There’s nothing that could calm my trajectory-related freakouts quite like a substantial update to my wardrobe. Yet nothing launches me into a bigger frenzy than realizing I haven’t a dime to spend on said wardrobe updates.

As a result, I am left scrounging for the cheapest way to add new clothes to my closet. Enter thrift shopping. Contrary to popular belief, thrifting is good for more than Halloween costumes and embodying the homeless. However, if either of those are your objectives, thrift stores are quite the treasure trove.

To a certain breed of germaphobic, polyester blend-fearing types, thrift shopping might be the equivalent of water torture.

A hobby best reserved for those those with the patience of a boyfriend willing to sit through the midnight screening of “Sex and the City 2,” thrifting is not for the faint of heart. You have to deal with bad lighting and a diverse mix of fellow shoppers. Once, my friend and I witnessed someone vomiting in the dressing room of our local charity shop. No one said getting cheap clothes was easy.

The feeling of finding something perfect for under $8, however, triggers a special kind of joy that only thrifting can fulfull. If you’re willing to take on the challenge, I have some advice to make your consignment-combing a little more tolerable.

Ever since Urban Outfitters popularized sloppy chic, thrift stores have become a veritable jackpot of steals. I recommend going to Urban first to get ideas, then heading over to Goodwill to scoop everything up for an eighth of the price.

Speaking of steals, ignore the price tags. They’ll encourage you to buy things you don’t need. Looking at the racks with a creative eye is crucial to finding one-of-a-kind pieces — but don’t get carried away. Rhinestones, overzealous use of pleats and printed corduroy should all be avoided. However, I probably would’ve said the same thing about acid wash a few years ago, and now I’m in love with the look. I admire all of you who have a sixth sense for future trends — you’re biologically wired to shop in thrift stores.

Going in a good mood is paramount. For example, I made the mistake of going to Goodwill the other day cranky and uncaffeinated. I passed up a $7 navy Oscar de la Renta blazer because the thought of going to the tailor to have it taken in overwhelmed me.

Learn from my blunder — don’t pass something up just because it doesn’t fit perfectly. However, if the necessary tailoring or dry cleaning is going to end up costing more than buying the item new, don’t bother.

Girls, don’t feel limited to the women’s side of the store. Some of my favorite thrifting finds came from the men’s racks. Button down shirts and sweaters can double as tunics or dresses (depending on how tall you are) and their sequin-free belt selection is far less tacky.

If you’re looking to make money rather than spend it, I also have some recommendations for selling your tuckered-out clothes at consignment stores.

First things first: Accept the fact that you are going to be ripped off. A friend of mine once sold a pair of barely-worn Ugg boots to Plato’s Closet and only got $20. This isn’t a get-rich quick scheme, people. If you want a bucket of money fast, I suggest you track down someone who advised Martha Stewart during her insider trading debacle without getting caught.

Secondly, don’t expect Avalon Exchange to take your hole-filled gym T-shirts and flared jeans you haven’t worn since the seventh grade. Cleaning out your closet is great, but be realistic about what should be taken to the trash and what should simply be donated.

Once you put together a pile that is worth selling, make sure everything is in decent condition. If a button is hanging by a thread or there’s a small hole in the sleeve, fix it. Repair pilling fabric by skimming over rough spots with an old razor. It’s worth taking the extra five minutes to spruce up your merchandise — it vastly raises the likelihood of scoring some cash.

Like most things in life, buying and selling used clothes requires patience, determination and a high tolerance for the smell of mothballs. Happy thrifting, my friends. Search hard enough, and I promise your hard work will pay off.

Oscar Fashion

Ah, award season — that wonderful time of year when anyone possessing a loud mouth, Twitter or the ability to update her Facebook status can fancy herself a fashion critic. “So-and-so looks like a bloated sausage dressed in duck feathers,” the remote-wielding Tweeters will likely type.

“Anyone can get all dressed up and glamorous, but it is how people dress in their off days that are the most intriguing,” designer Alexander Wang’s website reads. From the looks of the red carpet, I’d argue that it’s a little more complicated than that. Judging from the legions of fashion disasters that parade their way down the paparazzi trail, even “somebodies” can barely get dressed up and look glamorous.

Celebs with mega-budgets for gowns and stylists seem to have mega-troubles pulling themselves together. Christina Hendricks, I’m looking at you. The “Mad Men” star’s curvaceous figure is the kind of challenge a “Project Runway” contestant would throw a hissy fit over. For the Golden Globes, Christian Siriano stuffed her into a nude, ruffled, asymmetrical number that landed her at the top of the worst-dressed list. Hendricks, why not try something in a darker color without all the extra volume this time around?

At the Golden Globes and Grammys, warm-toned ruffles were all the rage. You couldn’t swing a trophy without hitting a cascade of frills. In moderation, the look is great. But when applied with a heavy hand, the ruffles look like a cake ready to trigger a sugar overload.

Max Azria’s Hervé Léger bandage dresses are still turning up on the carpet, and while I appreciate the slimming effects as much as anyone, I think it’s time for something original.

I understand it’s a challenge for stylists to find something that’s equally flattering and fashion-forward without being so avant-garde that the celeb looks crazy. Evening gowns generally limit opportunities for styling creativity. This year, however, I think celebrities should stick to simple dresses and focus on interesting accessories. After all, due to the economy, that’s what every woman in America is doing these days.

Like Alexander Wang, I’m far more interested in seeing how celebrities dress on their way to the airport than on their way to their seat at the Academy Awards. But I can’t help but wonder who will seal their identity as a fashion industry darling and who will end up in a photomontage of the most bizarre gown choices of all time come Oscar night? Only Sunday and the E! fashion police will tell.

When bargain meets luxury

When people say they’re “really into fashion,” they mean one of three things: 1. They’re into the industry — people who go into magazine editing, styling and PR. 2. They’re into clothes, meaning they care about dressing well. 3. They’re into labels, meaning their taste level is probably questionable, but they think that if they carry something expensive, it will compensate.

Here’s the thing. Being label-obsessed does not equate a respectable interest in the fashion industry. There is devotion to quality, and there is devotion to the label lifestyle. They are entirely separate entities.

Here’s another thing. Designers, the poor things, don’t make a whole lot of money. Like any creative field, reaching success takes a heaping tablespoon of talent and a whole lot of luck.

So fast-fashion retailers like H&M, Target and Topshop believe they found a way to please everyone: luxury designer collaborations. Each store has a constant rotation of guest stars who design one-time capsule collections. Relentless shoppers go crazy for the opportunity to buy up the designer duds. Case in point: H&M’s autumn team-up with Jimmy Choo sold out within hours.

On the surface, this luxury/discount relationship seems like the ideal scenario. The industry insiders finally get a chance to afford the designers they spend their time researching and promoting. The people who like to dress well get an opportunity to buy something that’s potentially more interesting than the average lot on the racks. The people who like labels get to stock up on things they can wear and proudly say, “It’s Anna Sui.” The designers get to make some extra cash.

In actuality, I think everyone loses. I have never once — really, not once — been blown away by a fast fashion/luxury designer collaboration. Sure, the stuff looks great when it’s in the marketing campaigns. However, when you actually get to Target, you’re touching inexpensive fabrics. It just doesn’t seem worth buying simply for an extra name on the tag, no matter how previously devoted to the designer you were.

Really, you can’t blame the designers. They can’t help that they’re used to creating beautiful things on a large-scale budget. They are forced to sacrifice their creative integrity in order to fit the expectations of whomever they’re designing for. Which is why I enthusiastically applauded Hedi Slimane when I heard he wasn’t interested in doing a collaboration line anytime soon.

The one-time Dior Homme designer had a heavy hand in the boys-in-skinny-pants phenomenon, but then he gave up designing to turn to photography. He told Style.com that he didn’t “like the ‘capsule’ collection trick. ... There is something terribly cheap about it. This validation is somehow dodgy, since fast fashion, with few exceptions, is quietly ripping off all it can, including brands that are too small to defend themselves.” Rock on, Mr. Slimane. I couldn’t agree more.

Luxury, in the truest sense of the word, is meant to represent quality. Top-of-the-line fabrics, perfect fit, comfort, long-lasting pieces. When a luxury designer makes something for a budget retailer, however, all of that is lost. It would be like if Mercedes created a $2 toy car. Sure, the label is there — but its not going to get you to where you want to go.

Yes, collaborations are an opportunity to get a designer’s name out to a new demographic. I’m sure the average Target shopper doesn’t know a whole lot about Rodarte. But are these shoppers really going to start buying the designer’s full-priced line once the collaboration collection sells out? I highly doubt it. What exactly are these discount lines achieving? A bunch of girls running around in poorly made clothes that are a disgrace to the designer’s name?

I say cut it out with these collaborations. I’m sure there are plenty of fashion school graduates who could create something budget-friendly and well-made for Target. Give those people a job.

When someone asks who designed my outfit, I’m completely OK with saying, “I have absolutely no idea.”

I know what boys like.

Kick off your heels, girls. It turns out the blisters and sore arches aren’t worth it after all – guys aren’t going to like you any better if you’re standing at a bar three inches taller than usual.

Curious to know what guys actually want to see girls wear, I sat down with my friend Sean and grilled him for his token male perspective. I would like to take this opportunity to defend that Sean is not an asshole. He’s just, you know, a guy and I asked him to be candid.

Also, before anyone gets into a girl power, we-don’t-dress-for-male-attention tizzy, allow me to preface with this: I know I am blithely ignoring the homosexual demographic as well as those rare males that do, in fact, understand fashion and respect a girl who can pull off drop waists and fur coats.

Let’s not go on and on about how there’s more to people than just looks and it’s all dependent on personal taste and yada yada yada. All that stuff is for another day. For right now, I’m strictly talking stereotypical heterosexual lust.

Anyways, back to that thing about ditching high heels. Sean reports that guys “can’t tell the difference and it’s annoying to hear you complain about your feet hurting. It’s not worth it. Ever.” So there you have it. Scoop up some flats.

“Things that take attention away from your face are bad, but maybe that’s because I’m easily distracted. Dressing like you’re clearly trying to impress someone, like you want everyone to think you have money is no good,” he says.

So constantly shopping for the latest trends and spending hours putting together the perfect outfit isn’t doing anything to help find a boyfriend? According to my friend, not really

“Girls really feel like we care about their clothes but as long as they don’t look like Pippi Longstocking or they’re showing off their lady lumps, we don’t notice.” Oh. Ok, then.

As for beauty and hygiene, there aren’t a whole lot of surprises. “I don’t want to know that there’s a lot of makeup and you look a fake color,” Sean says. “Pounds of caked on makeup isn’t pretty. Shower before class, I know when your hair is greasy.”

If you’re headed out to an evening soiree, it turns out wearing the tightest, shortest dress you can find doesn’t mean you’re going home with someone. By night, Sean recommends that girls should “Look approachable. Wear something fitted but not so tight you can see everything. I don’t want to see it all before I’m ready to see it. I mean I don’t walk around with my underwear hanging out. It’s better to be more conservative than too loosy goosy.”

While trends are completely lost on the average male specimen, their carnal desires pay the most attention to how things look on a girl’s bod. “Don’t try to fit into things that clearly don’t fit – know what works on your body,” he says.

By day, Sean says to wear something casual but not loose and baggy. “You still want to look feminine, not like a dude.”

Well, sorry to break this to you Sean, but New York Magazine’s fashion blog, The Cut, reported this week in a post titled, “Go Ahead and Get Fat Next Fall,” that baby doll tent dresses are going to be all the rage next season. So at least you won’t have to worry about seeing anything you’re not ready for.

There's a dichotomy between the fashion industry and sex. No one wearing a pair of harem pants or shoulder pads is trying to get catcalled by construction workers anytime soon. But why is that? Why are the trends considered most fashion-forward also completely repulsive to the average heterosexual male?

Is it a class thing? Is blatant sexuality something of the lower class? God forbid a high-end designer creates something that looks like it could be marketed to a hooker. Or is it because half of the industry elites were weird and awkward while they were growing up and never felt comfortable with sexuality?

Sure, sex sells. But when it comes to fashion, androgyny is a goal. After all, we’re talking about an industry that routinely sends boyish, reproductive-organ-deprived models down the runway, usually wearing something that no guy would ever want their girlfriend to wear.

So I guess a girl has to decide which is more important – dressing to attract or dressing for self-satisfaction.

As for my own theory on what to wear to draw attention? Well, I have a firm psychological belief that people are hard wired to like those that care about their own happiness first. Wear what makes you feel like a hot piece –whether that’s a slut-tastic mini dress or an oversized sweatshirt. No guy is going to enjoy perpetually answering, “You look fine,” if you repeatedly try to impress him and ask if something makes you look fat.

So listen to Sean, don’t listen to Sean. If it sounds like you’re wearing exactly what he likes though, let me know – I’ll give you his number.

Top 10 of Fashion Week 2010

It’s New York Fashion Week, ladies and gentleman — which means the fashion world’s glitterati (redundant?) have congregated in New York for eight crazy days and nights to celebrate and preview the completion of the Fall/Winter 2010 lines. Tomorrow the festivities will end, and legions of editors will jump on a plane and head over to England for London Fashion Week. It’s a rough life, keeping up with all this fashion, but somebody’s got to do it.

Attempting to summarize everything that’s happened thus far at New York Fashion Week in this modest corner of The Pitt News is essentially an impossible task, but sometimes a girl has to put on her lipstick and try, right? So here we go, my top 10 of Fashion Week 2010.

1. Alexander McQueen, R.I.P.: In one of the most tragic starts to NYFW possibly ever, Alexander McQueen, maker of all the things elegantly edgy, was found dead in his home last Thursday. Reports say it was suicide. Why is it that the most brilliant minds are also the most tortured? McQueen, you are a legend and will be forever missed.

2. Relocation, relocation, relocation: Sadly, this will be the last year the Fashion Week tents will be pitched in Bryant Park. Starting in December, the shows will venture over to Lincoln Center. Guess the designers on “Project Runway” can’t repeat, “I just want to make it to Bryant Park” anymore. “I just want to make it to Lincoln Center” doesn’t have quite the same ring to it.

3. Who invited you?: Generally, Fashion Week is for the editorial elite and die-hard fans of fashion. This year, however, a new demographic attempted to slip its way past the velvet ropes. Everyone’s favorite pop cultural phenomenon (but really, aren’t they a little two months ago?), the cast of the Jersey Shore, was rumored to have requested fashion show tickets. Newsflash, my Seaside Heights darlings, unless Carolina Herrera decides that Bumpits are the next vision of elegance, you aren’t getting in anywhere that matters.

4. Beyond the clothes: Anyone who’s managed to catch an episode of “Kell on Earth,” Bravo’s brilliant new series about fashion public relations mogul Kelly Cutrone, knows that it takes a whole lot more than clothes to make a fashion show work. The presentations have to create an atmosphere — the lights, the runway, the goodie bags — all have to be on-point. One of the week’s big production winners for me was Erin Wasson x RVCA, who showed in a carpet and furniture store. The models were serenaded by a live performance from Yeasayer, whose quirky international-tinged sounds were the perfect pairing for Wasson’s hip beret-topped T-shirt and legging looks. If you haven’t listened to Yeasayer, and you’re looking for something new, I highly recommend checking out their new album appropriately titled Odd Blood.

5. Velvet Revolver: Fashionista blogger Britt Aboutaleb wrote “A Rant on the Proliferation of Velvet” yesterday and I couldn’t agree more. Velvet, unfortunately, has become one of the runaway trends of Fall 2010. Now, I haven’t worn the stuff since my days of Tuesday night cotillion back in middle school, and I hadn’t really planned on purchasing any swathes of the unflattering fabric anytime soon. Aboutaleb says the fabric “looks cheap — and I don’t mean inexpensive,” and I’m right there with her. While I frequently have a softening toward trends I hate in the beginning, I’m not sure if my opinion will budge on this one.

6. Fashionably early: Perhaps the most shocking move of NYFW was Marc Jacobs’ show starting five minutes early. Known for sending his models down the runway up to two hours late, Marc pulled it together and got things going in record time. There was a slew of fur-trimmed coats, a penchant for cutouts and a shimmery cardigan that I absolutely must have.

7. Alexander Wang: If you’ve ever worn an oversized grey T-shirt, torn jeans and a black beanie, you have Alexander Wang to thank. The designer revolutionized casual-hipster-cool, but this season he did something a little different. To largely mixed reviews, Wang debuted a line of uncharacteristically buttoned-up suit fabrics. He made some peculiar proportion choices, showing cropped blazers over corsets and velvet boots. While the risk factor is admirable, his best strides were when he stuck to monochromatic knits and leather pieces.

8. Haiti Relief: Because the fashion world never turns down an opportunity to do something charitable on a big scale, Naomi Campbell hosted “Fashion for Relief Haiti,” a show that benefited the earthquake relief efforts. Model Agyness Deyn got a little too excited about the endeavor because she fell not once but twice during her stroll down the runway. Oops.

9. High buns, matte nails and nude faces: Good news girls. If you don’t plan on having time to put top coat on your nails or wash your hair next semester, don’t worry about it! Hit those snooze buttons because low-maintenance beauty is here to stay. Rag & Bone and BCBG models walked with clean faces. Ruffian, Behnaz Sarafpour and Catherine Malandrino pulled hair into super-high knots, and matte nails were all over the place. Rest up, ladies.

10. Alice Ritter: After clicking through more shows than I’d like to admit (God bless Style.com and its commitment to posting every show faster than you can click your Louboutin heels), I’ve settled on French-born Alice Ritter as one of my favorites. Her blend of plaid, stripes and tweeds are exactly what I want to turn to every fall.

To all the magazine editors teetering around New York’s icy sidewalks, I commend you. Nina Garcia, I hear you wiped out on the way to a show. Don’t worry about it, girlfriend. I haven’t been a vision of grace in the midst of Snowpocalype 2010, either. I’d much rather be trying to crash Charlotte Ronson’s fashion show than pulling on my decidedly unglamorous snow boots and trudging to class. I guess we can’t have everything.

Shopping is best when done as a solitary experience

I can’t watch movies with other people. At least movies that aren’t “The Hangover” or “Miss Congeniality.” Any movie that’s even the slightest bit more highbrow I have to watch alone. If other people are around, I can’t focus on what I’m watching. I get obsessively preoccupied with other people’s reactions and worry about their reactions to my reactions.

For example, if my fellow viewer laughs at a mediocre line, then I feel like I have to laugh so he or she won’t feel stupid. I wish I could say that this tendency is some grand personality component that has to do with validating other people’s emotions, but it’s probably just insecurity.

I much prefer watching movies on my own. I can laugh when I feel like it and get teary without feeling awkward about it. I can get fully absorbed into the mise-en-scènes or whatever mumbo-jumbo film professors like to go on and on about.
Similar to my movie-watching tendencies are my habits as a consumer. I can only go shopping by myself.

Moseying around stores with friends is fun and all — especially if you just want to drive sales associates crazy and browse your way through an entire rack of sunglasses without any intention of buying a pair — but when it comes to hardcore shopping, I have to be alone.

Trust me, you wouldn’t want to be around when I have my sights set on a wardrobe overhaul. It’s not something you want to witness.

This is how my shopping experience goes: Step one is caffeination. The most integral part of the shopping experience, a strong cup of coffee is what separates the shop-till-you-find-it from the check-one-store-and-leave.

So I get to the mall, my caffeine buzz at full-throttle and head to the stores I can’t afford. Looking at $500 cardigans that don’t have missing buttons and loose threads refines my taste and makes it less likely that I’ll buy a lot of crap later on.

Once I’ve successfully ended my cravings for polyester blends, I head to the budget retailers. This is where it gets ugly.

I’d like to take this opportunity to apologize to all sales associates who have ever had to work in the fitting room on a day that I’ve entered their store. I know, I’m a huge pain in the ass. I’ve worked in retail and I am, in fact, my own worst nightmare.

I head in and slowly comb my way through the racks. I only pick up what I’m instantly drawn to and make commentary for everything I see. “Are people really still wearing t-shirts that proclaim they love their boyfriend? Who would buy anything that looks this cheap? This dress would make Kate Moss look obese.” I get annoyed with the obnoxiously giggly teenagers and people who block the mirror while I’m trying to decide if I can pull off hats.

By the time I reach the back of the store, I realize that I’m holding four black t-shirt dresses and scold myself for not thinking outside the box. So I return to the front of the store and start over. This time, I convince myself to look more closely at everything and pick up stuff I don’t already own in three versions.

I head to the dressing room where the poor girl who’s working back there explains that, “Sorry, you can only take in six pieces at a time, but I’ll hold these extra 12 things out here for you.” So I head in, invariably hate everything and make my way through the massive pile of stuff that I mistook for necessities.

Sometimes I won’t like anything, but I feel so guilty about trying so much on that I’ll keep a few things, tell the sales girl I love them and then hang them back up myself.

I then circle through the store again and make sure there is nothing left to try on (there isn’t) and start digging through the accessories. At this point, if someone has braved accompanying me on my shopping trip, she grumpily taps her foot by the door and repeatedly checks the time on her cell phone.

Shopping alone is simply better. I can focus, and other people don’t convince me to buy things I don’t need.

I tried to research my theory that shopping alone affects how much money you spend and what you buy, but I didn’t have any luck. So if any grad school out there would like to give me a full scholarship to study shopping behaviors, consider this my personal statement.