Love letters: Shopbop edition

My dearest Shopbop,

My adoration for you has grown quietly over the years. Whilst a young, broke thing in college, I would scroll through your lookbooks, searching for ideas for my rather lackluster wardrobe. Whenever I desperately needed some jumper cables for the uninspired portion of my brain, this did just the trick.

I never did order anything from you, at least not until about a year and a half ago. I bought a pair of Cheap Monday sunglasses, and they arrived to my house in lightening speed. Unfortunately, they looked like absolute crap on me. So back they went. (For free, no less! God, why does every store not have free returns at this point? Don't they get that online shopping is the future and should be made as convenient as possible?)

Then a few months ago I went through this anxiety-ridden phase where I realized I had no clothes that were really representative of my age and I was always dressing like I was in my early 40s. So I placed an order for a gazillion different knit dresses when there was an extra 20% off sale promo and again, they arrived quickly. And some of them were even on hangers! Do you know how much that warmed my heart? I am so lazy about hanging up new clothes. That requires going to the basement and finding a spare hanger and that is too much work so I usually leave new purchases on a chair and say that I'm just absorbing their beauty and newness. Right.

Obviously the houndstooth-printed box was a huge turn-on for me.

 So anyway, all the pretty new dresses arrived and I spent two hours trying them all on and settled on two. Ironically, I've only worn one of them once. It turns out trying to dress young just isn't my thing. But whenever I buy something I really love (and I really do love both dresses!) I always end up getting loads of wear out of them, even if it takes awhile. So I still have faith.

Now, Shopbop, I turn to you again because I need some jewelry. Specifically, jewelry that doesn't give me hives. More specifically, a gold choker and some dangly, neck-elongating gold earrings. You see, I usually buy my accessories at Forever 21 (like I said, I'm young and broke) but it turns out my skin can't handle nickel, and it turns green and I get rashes on my neck and my earlobes start to ooze. (Sorry, TMI.)
So I'm doing my usual order-a-million-things-then-send-back-what-doesn't-work deal. And I love you for being so cooperative with my crazy, picky shopping habits.

If you want to buy anything for me on my wishlist, feel free. I certainly will comply most happily.

Shopbop, thanks for your patience, quick and free shipping, and houndstooth-lined boxes. Rock on.

Truly yours,
Sam

Sunday Confessional

Yes, I have four different kinds of cuticle oil.

1. I compulsively apply cuticle oil throughout the day. Maybe it's because I'm always staring down at my nails typing away on the keyboard, so I'm perpetually reminded of how ragged-looking they are and it kind of ruins my self esteem. And since manicures are m.f.ing expensive, I just keep laying on the cuticle oil. Seriously sometimes five times in one day. It's an obsession. Recently I bought the Sally Hansen VitaSurge cuticle gel. It does the job, but it has these little orange bits (like those things that are the best part of using hand sanitizer!) that sort of get stuck in the sides of your nail and are bothersome. So I would maybe just stick with the regular oil next time. Moving on.

2. Until last week, I was terrified of using a foam roller. I always thought that the people at my gym who used them looked like a rare crossbreed of embarrassing and pretentious and I like to just try and look as normal as possible while I'm working out. Unfortunately, I went and effed up my right IT band last week and because I don't particularly love limping around like a grandma with a hip replacement, I looked up some videos and started foam rolling. Of course, just to confirm my worst fears, a guy I have a mild crush on walked by while I was mid-hip roll and now I'm mortified because, seriously? It's just not even possible to NOT look awkward on a foam roller. I've accepted it. But seriously dude, why couldn't you walk by when I was showing off my superior flexibility during post-cardio stretching? Or how about after I've spent 45 minutes in the locker room straightening my hair and putting on makeup? Since when are you even a member here, eh? Nevermind. Moving on. 

3. I am completely, 100% baffled by the concept of life balance. It's implausible to me. (Also implausible: marriage before I'm 57 years old. My mom suggested that I could be married in the next few years [read: she wants me to move out as soon as possible] and I laughed in her face for hours. No way, Mamacita. It's you and me and slumber parties and hair braiding and ghost stories until I'm on Medicare and finally making millions!) Anyways, I have no idea how to juggle friends and family and work and other work and staying healthy and sane. How the HELL do working mothers do it? How do they not gain 800 pounds, forget the definition of a hair brush and cry themselves to sleep at night? Oh, most of them do? Ok, well that makes me feel better.

The retail blues.

I know there are a million land-locked, middle-of-nowhere-dwellers that would kill me for saying this, but I despise the King of Prussia mall. It's a mile away from my house, but I've reached a point where I'm near-protesting its existence. Yes, it's a nice place. Yes, it's convenient and has almost every store you could ever ask for (but seriously, could we get a Zara already? My faith would be restored. Just saying.)

If you aren't from this area, allow me to explain. The King of Prussia mall is [allegedly] the stuff that shopping dreams are made of. It boasts over 400 different stores, eight department stores, and none of that amusement park crap like the Mall of America. This is clean and simple retail euphoria. 2,793,200 square feet of it. That's a lot of floor space.

But the selection inside those walls is totally lacking. I head to the mall every couple of weeks, just to browse around and try things on and see what strikes my fancy. But nine times out of 10, I leave empty handed. I'm an infamously picky shopper, but seriously? Shouldn't a place as famed as the biggest mall on the east cost have something more to offer? If I was, say, an insecure 14 year old with no personal style, I'd be in heaven. Dark wash jeggings, ill-fitting miniskirts, and cotton cardigans in boring colors are everywhere. The mediocre picks appeal to the masses, which I understand is a safe bet for retailers. But while the store buyers are convincing middle-Americans to come in droves, they're simultaneously alienating fashion-forward shoppers. Unless, of course, you want to head to Neiman's and drop a cool couple grand on a few trendy pieces. Personally, I don't have that kind of cash.

Listen, all I want is for H&M to start stocking the awesome stuff that they generally reserve for their urban locations. Some strong shouldered jackets and faux fur, you know? I understand that those pieces don't sell as well, making it financially risky to put on the shelves. I get it, H&M, I do. 

But as the selection in the mall stays consistently crappy, they're going to lose me as a customer all together. I can't imagine I'm the only one around here to feel this way. In fact, I've overheard other trend-savvy shoppers lament about the options in KOP retailers. To compensate, I've begun to do my shopping in better locations -- Suburban Square, flea markets, and, most recently, downtown Philly.

Last Sunday I took the train into the heart of the city and waltzed around Walnut Street before I had to head back to the suburbs for work. And let me tell you, it was way more fun than a morning at the mall. I'm a strong believer that an ideal autumn afternoon is spent in dark denim and a cozy knit poncho. (Ironically, I picked mine up at the H&M...in the mall.)

Hudson jeans, Jessica Simpson leopard flats, H&M poncho

Wouldn't you rather look at this than the inside of a mall while you're shopping?

Reinvention

Do you know what's really strange?
I'm not going back to school at the end of the month.
It's weird as hell, you know? Not being a student anymore. My whole life, I've identified myself as a student. I'm an "adult" now. I'm a "working professional" now. Dude. It's just so weird.
I swear in the past month I've become an entirely different person. Well, not so much different as just a more mature version of my former self. I've been through some rough stuff and some really great stuff but through it all, I've had the pleasure of being surrounded my wonderfully giving people. I consider myself unfathomably lucky to have the friends that I do, each of whom are unfailingly generous with their reminders of how much they support me. If you don't have friends like this, find some. Stat. You're missing out.
In addition to attempting to become a more positive-thinking, generous person (I've spent way to much of my life prioritizing myself. Thank God that mentality is coming to a close.) I've been spending a decent chunk of my free time strategizing how to revamp my wardrobe.
I think my last semester of college was about the lowest I'll ever go in terms of physical appearance standards -- I rarely left the house in anything that wasn't leggings, a belted, over-sized button-down, and greasy hair. But now, much to the relief of all people who have to look at me on a daily basis, I'm starting to feel like myself again.
I've entered the corporate battle field armed with a troupe of pencil skirts and slim-fitting button downs. I adore dressing up.
I'm giving myself a few more weeks to save up money and allow the King of Prussia mall to empty of back-to-school-shoppers before I head out to purchase my fall wardrobe. But because I graduated from a large research university, there's not a single thing I do without doing heavy-duty investigating first. So naturally, I've been spending hours pulling from magazines and blogs and retail sites. I have a large stack of tear-sheets on my desk, which I will eventually get around to gluing into my inspiration book. In the mean time, I'll share my digital mood board with you (click to see it full size):

At the beginning of every season, I have the same realization: Preppy-with-an-edge never fails to appeal to me. My style has upgraded a lot over the years, but essentially it's still the same. The retail choices this season are hitting the nail right on the head for me -- classic items, nothing too trendy, very fit-conscious.
My shopping list as as follows:
-Utility jacket
-Fur collar
-Leopard print handbag
-White blazer
-Navy suit
-Grey jeans
-Turtleneck dress
-Leather jacket
-Black straight cut pants
-Boxy tweed jacket
-Wedge utility boots
-Motorcycle boots

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?”

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.

Forever 21 the fashion equivalent to ghonorrhea

Let’s discuss this thing currently going on in New York called Fashion Week. For months, the fashion world has been preparing for seven days of unbridled chaos. Diehard fans leave their comfy shoes and moral standards at home as they attempt to beg their way into the Bryant Park tents. (“Really! I left my fashion show ticket at home! I swear I’m on the list! YES, this is Valentino!”)

Because of some unfortunate logistic issues, I wasn’t able to spend the weekend in New York. Not that I’d be able to do a whole lot once I got there since, you know, I don’t work at Vogue, but I wanted to witness the overall spectacle firsthand.

Instead, I celebrated Fashion Week from the comforts of my own home. I wish I could say I drank copious amounts of champagne and marched around town in towering heels. The reality was far less glamorous. I clicked my way through the Spring 2010 shows online — blissfully blister-free.

Viewing all the runway glamour has triggered an overwhelming desire to completely overhaul my wardrobe. Suddenly, everything in my closet seems so ... last season.

This is a common problem for me. I have a tendency to get sick of things very quickly. Before a song’s play count hits 10, I can’t hear it anymore. I wear an outfit twice, and I’m over it. This has caused some to assume I’m a tad pretentious. These presumptuous folk are actually quite wrong — I just get bored easily.

The unfortunate downside of this affliction is that I’m broke. I’m a junkie with no means to get her fix. I have a hard time accepting the fact I most likely will never afford the beautiful, luxurious clothes I crave. It’s depressing. Really — go on style.com and watch some of the shows. I’d recommend Karen Walker, Boy by Band of Outsiders, Helmut Lang and Jenni Kayne.

You’ll have a much easier time sympathizing with my situation after you’ve seen them. It’s probably for the best I wasn’t present at any of the shows. I would’ve started shrieking and been asked to leave, which would’ve been, to say the least, rather embarrassing.

I’ve decided to write a few letters, punctuated with desperation, to various designers. I’m volunteering the arduous task of cleaning up their post-Fashion Week messes by taking some of their extra clothes off their hands.

Since responses are about as likely as me getting an “A” in math this semester, I’m forced to find reasonably priced additions to my wardrobe elsewhere. Here’s where I need to employ some impulse control: fast-fashion chains.

Slews of stores make mega bucks from replicating designer duds. The garments are usually of disastrous quality, but since they’re dirt cheap, you convince yourself to buy things you neither need nor look good in — bad news all around.

Now bear with me for just a moment as we flash back to the SATs and look at an analogy: Fast-fashion chains are to style schizophrenia what promiscuity is to venereal diseases.

When you’re exposed to too much low quality crap, you end up making bad decisions. So this is my PSA: Save yourself for the pieces that are really worth it. You’ll end up with a killer closet and no regrets in the morning. A cohesive wardrobe makes getting ready on the fly — even for an 8 a.m. recitation — a total cinch.

Stores like Forever 21 encourage you to buy things that aren’t your style. They’re aware of it — that’s why their return policy sucks. Sure, that awkwardly cut frilly top in the back of your drawer only cost $12.99, but those little impulse buys add up. With the $100 you spent on a few pieces that have unraveled in the wash you could’ve gotten a pair of decently made shoes that go with everything.

Before approaching sale racks or cheap chains, think about what you really need. Commence your shopping sprees with a critical eye. I suggest flipping through magazines right before shopping so you can pick out items that appeal to you and stick with them. Don’t let a smooth-talking bargain sway you.

Now, I’m certainly no saintly Forever 21 virgin, and I’m not going to launch into a sermon about cost-per-wear. Sometimes fashion mistakes happen.

Clean out your closet, learn from the stuff you’re throwing away and move on. So go forth my nimble little born-again shoppers. Be smart and always use protection, because Forever 21’orrhea is a horrible thing.

A little studded slice of heaven

Remind me again why I don't own these? Oh, right. I don't have $428. Bummer.

Just the excuse you were looking for

If you're a student in Pittsburgh this weekend, skedaddle on over to SouthSide Works for their college weekend. Feel free to indulge in a little I-survived-the-first-two-weeks-of-classes treat for yourself. You deserve it.

Budgeting and creativity the new recession trend

Something strange happens the summer before your senior year of college. Things slowly begin falling together as you gradually embrace the notion of independence. Suddenly, the most generic advice grows distinctly clear.

People tell you to do things for you--no one else. People say to study what interests you-- not what someone else wants you to do. People say to spend time with people that bring out the best in you -- not waste time with those that don’t. The sage advice is about creating a sense of self and, in this case, a sense of style.

Regardless of your year in school, there's perhaps no better time to find what works for you--and forget everything else. Forgo spending money on trends in favor of what makes you look your best. Wear what suits your personality and body type. Wear what pleases YOU.

"There are few things in life more pleasurable than shopping, but there is also enormous joy to be had from repairing and revitalizing," said Rita Konig, a contributor th the now-shuttered Domino.

She was actually talking about furniture at the time, but it also rings true in fashion. This year is far less about trends and more about putting creativity to use and modernizing what you already own. Dig around drawers you haven't opened in awhile. Spend some time shopping from your own closet instead of the mall. Not only is it cheaper, you'll end up with a style that's completely different from everyone else.

Usually there's nothing that thrills me more than back-to-school shopping. It brings me back to the days in elementary and middle school when, on one fateful day of August, my mother would hand me a catalog and a pen. I'd circle everything I wanted, then carefully narrow down what I wanted badly enough to buy.

Ironically, back then I hated the mall. I associated it with tagging along on my mom's tedious trips searching through racks of business suits. Those were my tomboy days, when I rejected the glittery pinkness of Limited Too in favor of leggings and oversized graphic tees (my favorites were endangered animal ones sold each year as an elementary school fundraiser.) Not much has changed since then. This duo is still my go-to ensemble on lazy weekends and nights spent in the library.

This year, I'll be rejecting the mall again. My aching bank account has forced me to pull out clothes I haven't worn in years and look at them in a new light.

If you are dying to buy something new, you're in luck. Last year's high fashion trends are still trickling down into cheaper chains. It's easy to score key pieces at affordable price points.

When composing your shopping list, consider a few trends: Leather and tough detailing. Think exposed zippers and studded anything. Layer on chain necklaces--personally, my favorite accessory. Try a bold pair of jeans—acid wash, distressed, or brightly colored. They’re all more versatile than you think and can make an otherwise simple outfit look far more fashionable. Hit up consignment stores to partake in the monopolizing 80s trend. Strong, sculptured shoulders have generated into a full blown trend since Balmain’s now notorious military jacket debuted last year.

Head to the stores (or your closet) and try things on. Keep looking until you find things that are perfect for you. Put pieces together in a way you never have before. The results may surprise you. After all, college is a time of trying new things and finding yourself.

So welcome back, kids. Here’s to a fashionable year.

Shopping Report

I'm not that into historical site seeing. Monuments and buildings generally don't mean much to me. Terrible, I know. I love going to modern art museums, but nothing quite acclimates me to a different culture like shopping. (And Mom, if you're reading this, don't fret. I did go around and see all the boring stuff too. And I've been careful about my purchases here, mostly because I wanted a chance to see as much as possible before I decided what was worthy of my poor old dwindlin' dollars.)
If you're lucky enough to be heading to London anytime in the near future, this is where I recommend you go:

1. The markets: absolutely the best way to shop over here. You can literally find anything, (including this really classy nurse uniform, as elegantly modeled by my flatmate in Camden) and its guaranteed to be unique and generally not too expensive. My favorite is Portebello Road [pictured above]; it has a great atmosphere and inspiring aesthetic. The cheapest (and craziest) is Camden Market--a good place to pick up souvenirs for friends. East London markets are a little more expensive, but spend a Sunday browsing Spitafields, Sunday Up, and Brick Lane markets and you're sure to find something.

2. The vintage stores: Londoners have great style, meaning their consignment stores are chock-a-block full of great stuff. East London has the highest concentration of vintage shops--Blondie, Absolute Vintage, and Rockit are the major ones. Pretty much every neighborhood has a range of second hand stores, stocked with everything from designer scores to stained tees.

3. The boutiques: I read through travel books, magazines, and websites and made a long long list of boutiques I wanted to visit while I was here. Honestly, I haven't seen half of them and don't really mind. It's impossible to see (or locate) all of them. The best thing to do in London? Take the tube somewhere, get out, and walk around. Fashion cardio. Wander in and and out of any store that catches your eye. Covent Garden, Notting Hill, and east London all have a dense population of cute places.

4. The chains: The greatest thing about European chains is that they carry trends long before their US counterparts. It's easy to find really cool stuff for really cheap prices if you shop around enough. My favorite inexpensive chains are Primark, Dorothy Perkins, Next, Topshop, H+M (I swear it carries completely different stuff than the American stores. Way, way better.), Zara, Office, Joy, and Uniqlo. So basically, every chain. I never want to shop at the King of Prussia mall again.

Regardless of how much you actually buy, wandering around the shopping areas in London are overwhelmingly inspiring. (at least the less-touristy areas. Do not, I repeat, DO NOT head anywhere near Oxford Circus on the weekends. You'll have an anxiety attack and regret it.) You'll get loads of style ideas from the store displays and other shoppers. So much better than flipping through a magazine or catalog. Though the UK has a reputation for bad customer service, I've found the people working in stores and market stalls to be incredibly friendly. However, this could just be because their intrigued by American accents.

As for my purchases, this is what I've gotten (not counting lots of souvenirs and such for other people): two dresses (a simple grey shift and a feistier leopard number), two belts (a white elastic one and a jaguar one), tortoiseshell sunglasses, charms, and a very gigantic black sun hat (that's the black thing looming in the corner.)