Chamber of Secrets (Part 1)

I feel like blogging is one of the most narcissist sports one can take part in other than that of maybe pagents or the all fearosome record store owning. Let's be honest, have you ever been to a record store that isn't owned buy some 25 year old UC Berkley dropout coveting a sonic youth tshirt and the stench of cheap pot? I thought not.
Anyway, I thought that there could be no other thing that could tribute blogging narcissim than posting pictures of where I sleep and have panic attacks: My room (I know you all were probably thinking the bathroom because, obviously, everyone knows that fashion blogggers live in bathrooms)
Although originally I was super hesitant to take a bunch of pictures of the chairs which my ass sits on and my compulsive hoard of creepy stuffed animals, I finally came to the realization that my room is just another glance into my style. My room, like in the beach boys song, is "Where I go and tell my secrets to." It's chaoticness and smelliness reflects my personal style pretty well.

This is my vibe wall. It used to be covered in posters from plays that I was in back when I used to get parts in shows. Now those posters are in my closet. I suppose there should be a more metaphorical explanation as to why I did that. However the real reason is that I got bored of them and though this display was "pretty"
I feel like I should make a note about my wallpaper. It's pretty significant in the grand scheme of things. It came with the house when my family bought it years back. I remember being mortified by it. Now, years later, I've finally appriciated it. Mainly because it looks like something from a psychiatric ward or prehaps a 1970's movie.
part of the display on my dresser. I'd like to point out that those tubes of glitter are actually full of blood from the last unicorns.

This sampler is kind of my mantra. Whenever I write papers I think about what the sampler says because it makes me feel better when I screw up.  My grandparents used to be in the antique industry so we have, to put it in the words of a kid my age "a bunch of old shit that smells funny"

My image wall. I've been curating it since I was in about 7th grade, when I started it it was primarily composed of seventeen magazine "editorials"

This is probably the coolest thing I own. I don't feel worthy of it though so I rarely wear it.
This is my archive of fashion related books. I understand how pathetically small it is. 

Organization at it's finest. 

Part of my shoe collection. 

My closet door. Recognize some of the art on it? It's from Butch. 

Yeah I really epitomize a 1960's sci-fi writer with my lack of organization and overall nut-job way of life.  
Dis is my angel. I rescued her from the attic. Fun fact, I can actually play guitar pretty well (not to toot my own horn but hey that's what I'm hear fer) 
This is where I actually live. The rest of the images are fake. 
Well, That's all I have for ya today. Sometime next month I'll do a part 2 post of my room because this is only half of it. You haven't even seen my hoard of shit yet. 


Your yellow pants are tacky therefore I want them

Coat: Vintage Lilly Allen. Shoes: Doc Martens. Socks: Happy Socks

Hey losers.
So today I was feeling like a genie or whatever so I was motivated to take outfit pictures. Considering the fact that I've basically been in a rut all spring break this was HUGE news. I don't know what it is about break. I either wake up and just stay in my uber sexy flannel pajamas all day or wake up and decide to dress like Carmen Miranda.
I have no idea what is wrong with me.

I credit my evil teen hormones (I feel like I use them as a scapegoat waayy to much. Always blame something that's out of your control. ALWAYS!)

Due to my random burst of energy I decided to meander for a while because ya know, the suburbs cause me to become sooooo *introspective*. Also because I heard Yeezy being blasted really loud and I wanted to see what all the hubub was about/ live vicariously through the hoodrats in my town. HOODRAT POWA!

Boy I just love eating pizza in the bathtub and hearing the sounds of teenagers having ragers that I wasn't invited to.(This might be the reason.) Music to my ears fosho. The perils of teenagerie.

So, as I was saying before I started getting all disgruntled, I walked into the wooded area in my neighborhood when I found this ├╝ber badass tree fort that was calling my name. It was even more awesome because there were a bunch of nasty used tampons covering the ground so therefore it was ideal to take overly gaudy photos. I feel like I am the queen of gaudiness. Unintentionally of course.

Now on to the actual outfit aspect of this post.
I found this coat on a recent pilgrimage to my mothers closet. Upon seeing I immediatley felt chills because when you pop the collar out pimp style it looks like the Virgin Mary dress from Christian Lacroix's infamous Fall 2009 Haute Couture collection. Well not really but whateva. It also reminded me of the video from Grimes' (omg Claire Boucher is my sweet angel) Oblivion

Alright guys thats all. Time to eat more hot slizz and sit in my cave editing Butch submissions (Btw thats going to sent out to all who want it early this week. Email me if ya want one)


Oh and p.s: I was interviewed Brittney and Daisy and it was awesome. I'd be more humble but I'm secretly a big ass narcissist. (Not really but get at me)'
P.S.S: I now have 162 followers between bloglovin and GFC. You guys are the best :DDD


I'm Still New

Top: Milau. Skirt: Vintage. Tights: Gift. Scarf (in first photo) Vintage. Hat: Vintage. Shoes: Doc Martens. Sunglasses: Target.

So, as you can tell I haven't really posted a lot lately. A lot of that time I've been doing some self exploration. I've had to take this hiatus to simply learn about who I am and what I'm here for.
During that period I began to take what I've learned from blogging and applied it to my daily life. I left my usual "sarcastic bitch" personality and temporarily traded it for one that was overly self aware and a little less cynical (I know...GASP!)

However when I tried this new "mask" on, I think I was more freaked out by my surroundings. I instead found myself significantly unhappier. As a social expirement, I tried the whole "pretty thing" I was tired of listening to people telling me how much happier I would be in a pair of jeans and heels.

The results weren't necessarily as "euphoric" as I thought. Instead I realized I was right all along. As a teenage girl I feel like I'm always seeking some form of respect from my piers. There is something weird about being "liked" by other kids. I feel like this all revolves around material possesions, like clothing. People assume stuff about you by the way you dress. Like, because I dress kind of offbeat I'm considered someone who draws too much attention to herself on purpose or having to deal with other negative insights.

I'm not saying this is just happening to me, because it really isn't. I feel like teenage moodiness is kind of contagious.

Like in the Smith Westerns song "still new" I'm still new to this whole teenager thing. Sometimes I just wish it was over but at the same time I know I'll "Live Through This."