Wednesday, July 30, 2008

High Fashion Haiku: A Wheeze-Worthy Purse

Cute bags make me gasp
This beauty gave me asthma
Where's my inhaler?

Pierre Hardy Purse, 5 million billion dollars god damnit!,

Tuesday, July 29, 2008

It's Inadvertently Ask Daddy Likey!

Well, as promised, it's time once again for Inadvertently Ask Daddy Likey!, in which I scour the Google search terms that led people to my blog and respond to some of them in a helpful Q&A format. If you'd like a slightly less confusing explanation, click here, and if not, read on (as always--search terms--verbatim--in bold italics, and my responses below):

Inadvertently Ask Daddy Likey!

400 year old diet secrets
I've heard that plague and famine have waaaaayyy better results than LA Weight Loss.

what does chocha mean
Your mother never told you? Gosh, you see? When this stuff isn't taught at home all the responsibility falls on the fashion bloggers. Chocha = vagina. There, I said it.

i have super bad gas daddylikey help me
I just read this out loud to my boyfriend, who said, "I remember a girl in high school who used to load up on Beano whenever she had a date with her boyfriend." Does that help?

how do i snag a man in high school?
As much as I would like to say, "Just be yourself and the guys will come right to you like flies to a sticky self-esteem fly trap!," the fact that I was very much myself in high school (Cranial Pursuit champion! Diehard
Wishbone fan! Sufferer of persistent dandruff!) and snagged...hang on a second let me count...uh huh...carry the 2....oh yeah, NO men in high school makes me hesitant to lead you astray. My advice: snag a nerd or wait it out. I guess you could also try Beano.

lindsay lohan doing the crabwalk naked
Well, that's very specific. I'm assuming you wouldn't be interested in Lindsay Lohan simply naked or, perhaps, doing the crabwalk clothed? Yeah, me neither.

how to make tights less tight
That's a kōan, right?

do stripper shoes stretch out?
I hope so. They don't look particularly comfortable straight out of the box.

dresses for short stalky women

I would think that something dark and flexible would be best for activities such as climbing through windows at night and watching people sleep.

has anyone tried sublime bronze from l'oreal?

Ooh! Ooh! I have.

tampons at your boyfriend's house
Try hiding them in plain sight a la
The Purloined Letter. Stash a few on his desk with his pens and pencils; slip one into his cigar box; toss a couple into a nice green bean salad. He'll never notice!

what happens if you wear body shaping underwear for too long?

Horrors beyond your most morbid nightmares. OK, OK, I'm kidding. Your lungs will collapse, though.

how much leg to show at church
I'm a huge fan of the Show Some Leg for Jesus philosophy.

why all kids should tuck in their shirts! a must see to believe!

Yeah, I would definitely need to see this to believe this. But hey! I'm loving your enthusiasm!

what are interesting conversation for an 18 year old?
In the name of research, I had the following conversation with my very own 18-year-old brother, Devin:

Me: Hey.
Devin: I'm calling you from work so this better be important.

Me: What's your favorite animal?

Devin: Umm...the mountain lion.

Me: Why?

Devin: Because it's majestic and wild and it represents America and the west. I like the west.
Me: Would you say that this conversation was interesting?

Devin: No.

There you go.

Monday, July 28, 2008

Friday, July 25, 2008

Don't Show-cha Your Chocha, Volume XIII

Ah, nothing brightens up a tough week like a long overdue edition of Don't Show-cha Your Chocha! (Well, 60 affirming comments from my amazing readers helps too--thanks again!)

So let's get right to it, shall we?
(Amazing new readers can click here for the storied origins of DSYC.)

First off, Elena sums up this picture with a sentence that may become this feature's new slogan:

Either this girl is missing some necessary female anatomy or it's just simply scandalous.

Reader Rachel spotted this lil' (literally) number while browsing the Betsey Johnson website:

She says: There is NO WAY anyone could wear that thing as a dress without something underneath. The model is doing a lovely crossed-leg pose, of course. I'm actually a little disappointed in Betsey Johnson for this- I feel like her dresses are normally just the right kind of short.

From Kat, an extremely chic yet still chocharific outfit:

I found this quite amusing...the model obviously doesn't though.

Princess Poochie came across some classy high fashion chocha from the Sartorialist:

At least homegirl is ownin' it.

This model, on the other hand, is not ownin' it:

As Claudia points out: Lucky for the model, she didn't have to show her face!

Danger, Gossip Girl! Danger!

Says Nicole: Stuffing her hand in that abnormally huge pocket to give some coverage. Nice move, Leighton.

The brave Abbey takes on Aggy for this egregious Chocha offense:

What is there to say? That is quite obviously a shirt, and her seemingly jaunty pose is cleverly designed to prevent inevitable chocha exposure. I know everyone thinks Agyness Deyn can do no wrong, but seriously, she needs to wear something that provides more adequate coverage of the lady bits.

Josefina calls this a "Whoops! Too late!" edition:

Yeeeepp, I'd have to agree there.

Sophie says: Here are some DSYC sightings from, you guessed it, ShopBop:

Nice subtle-hem-pull-down, girlfriend! Almost had us fooled that you're feeling comfortable and covered. Almost. Actually, not at all.

And finally, Gwyneth Paltrow seems to have been a bit confused during the Iron Man promotional circuit and thought she was promoting a different film called Exposed Woman, because sweet jesus did her chocha get a lot of air (and I don't mean airtime, I mean actual air) these past couple months. I got quite a few emails on the topic, so I'm going to post the photos and the fantastic reader comments in one cluster for maximum enjoyment:

Here she is a a premiere, in a fantastic dress that is actually a fairly short shirt:

Jayca: Oh boy. Or should I say, "Damn, girl!" I found this on Perez Hilton (I'm so sorry, brain cells), and had to alert the DSYC police. One almost wants leggings - even on the gracious on Ms. Paltrow - at this point. Actually, this may not even qualify in the "Don't" part of this feature (I'm so sorry, eyeballs).


Tara: You can actually see the curve of her ass check through the angle of the dress. This epidemic really needs to be stopped.

Next she did a spread in Harper's Bazaar where she forgot a lot of the components of an outfit:

(The text reads: "I don't want to look like a mother who doesn't care.")

Sara: I don't want to look like a mom who doesn't care that she is showing her baby maker!

Paula: If she rotated six inches this would be a whole different kind of magazine.

Eritia: Gwenyth Paltrow on July's Harper's Bazaar cover would definitely be pulled over by my hawkeye vice principal and made to change into gym shorts if she attended my high school. To quote my history teacher: "If I can see butt cheek, then it's time for some longer skirts ladies."

Amen, Eritia's history teacher, amen.

At the risk of sounding uncouth, there's a lot more chocha where that came from, so expect another volume of these risque gems fairly soon. And keep sending me your finds--they're getting better and better!

Wednesday, July 23, 2008

Update: Whiny Douchebag Edition

Sorry for being completely MIA this week. My adviser revealed to me a couple weeks ago that actually I wasn't quite graduated, and to remedy this I would need to fulfill 4 popular culture credits, stat (priorities, right?). I made a joke to my boyfriend that I would probably end up in some random class like History of the Guitar.

When I went to register, the only popular culture class left open this summer was History of the Guitar.

I begrudgingly signed up and went to my first of 16 daily classes on Monday. By Tuesday, in a desperate attempt to make the History of the Guitar relevant to my life, I had also signed up for a daily guitar playing class, determined to become the next Janis Joplin and be able to lecture anyone, anytime about the cultural significance of the vihuela. So far I can play a G, three times in a row if I'm lucky.

In other news, a local right-wing talk radio host got wind of Nick and my appearance in the Times (see post below), and decided, inexplicably, to give a shit. On the air, using our full names, he tore us apart as lazy, whiny, entitled hipsters; examples of everything that's wrong with the youth of America today and especially of Portland. As a result, we are currently being vilified by his minions in different corners of the blogosphere, with people ripping on me for, among other things, having a hyphenated last name (apparently it's a "pathetic marker of a whiny creative class female"), and Nick for working at Starbucks ("Try getting a real job, douchebag"). Good stuff.

I wanted to say that I really appreciate all your kind and supportive comments. Every time I saw forty straight comments calling me some derivative of "dumb whiny bitch" on another blog I was able to come back here and see forty positive ones, which was awesome. I love you guys!

Stay tuned for Don't Show-cha Your Chocha, Inadvertently Ask Daddy Likey, handing out some "Brilliante Weblog" awards, and more lazy, entitled whining--you know, the usual.

Sunday, July 20, 2008

Extra! Extra!

My boyfriend Nick and I are featured in the Sunday Styles section of the New York Times today, talking about how we couldn't afford to take our planned vacation(s) this summer due to crazy-ass fuel and airfare prices, so we just went out to dinner instead.

I had a lot of fun with the whole process, from talking to the writer, Alex, to having our picture taken outside Nick's work while the entire neighborhood gawked ("What on earth is that man doing with such a huge camera?"). I maybe look like I have a mild case of lockjaw in the final product, but Nick looks hot, and the simple fact that my picture is in the New York Times with the caption "They'll Always Have Pasta" is enough to make me cry with joy.

You can read it online if you want to, but as Alex said, it would be better if you bought a copy, or ten-thousand.

I can't wait to see it in print!

Saturday, July 19, 2008

Reader Poll Follow Up: It's Usually a Nice Day for a Black Wedding

Well, the votes have been cast, and a verdict has sort of been reached in the Daddy Likey Nice Day For a Black Wedding? Poll.

The vast majority of votes were evenly split (like, really evenly--right now it's 227 to 231) between the passionate proponents of the little black dress in all wedding situations and those who say it all depends on which black dress (and possibly just as importantly, which wedding).

As I mentioned on Monday, I'm leaning toward the latter, because, for example, this dress would probably not be the best thing to wear to, say, a traditional summer wedding:

But it would be absolutely perfect for that renaissance faire-themed wedding you have coming up (the one with the invitation inked on a parchment scroll).

And this would probably not be the best thing to wear, ever:

But little black dresses can be so classic and chic, it would be a shame to throw out the option. I think a simple black dress looks just right in the fall and winter months, especially at evening weddings. For the summer, it can definitely work too--just go for pretty details, eyelets, and lighter fabrics. I really like these next two options which also happen to be fairly cheap:

Helena Eyelet Dress, $35!,

Tiered Full Dress, £85.00,

And like many brilliant readers pointed out, accessories can make or break the outfit, so try a pink shawl, gold clutch, or bright blue shoes (although a bright blue shawl, pink clutch, or gold shoes would be just as good).

Speaking of brilliant readers, be sure to check out the comments from Monday's post, as they contain a wealth of wedding fashion wisdom. Here are a few of my favorite tidbits:
As long as you're not showing a ton of cleavage or your chocha, everybody will be paying attention to the bride anyway. Its all about love, man, not the dress.

Absolutely... unless you go around telling people you're wearing black because you are in mourning for your stepbrother's lost freedom.

Black heels to funeral, metallic to wedding.

I am, by no means, a clothes extremist. But if you can't dress up for someone's wedding, don't go.

[Black] might be okay after six, on a Saturday night, in Manhattan. Other than that, I wouldn't risk it, not even for spite.

My friend had a Goth wedding & black was not only fine, it was practically mandatory.

I certainly think if the bride spends her time brooding over your dress, she's marrying the wrong damn guy.

I believe it's fine to wear black to a wedding as long as the dress isn't funeral-y but my mother begs to differ. Of course, she is biased since the groom at the wedding she last attended wearing black attempted to kill the bride not long after the wedding.

Thursday, July 17, 2008

Metallic Teal Eyeshadow, Save Me From Myself!

At the risk of losing all credibility (or did that happen already?), I have a confession: I dress really badly in the summer. For serious. I'm such a drama queen about the heat that my daily style consists of ribbed tanktops, cutoff jeans, and lots of whining. Chic, right?

Taking a style quiz with my friend Katelyn the other day and scoring somewhere between "boring" and "more boring" (unfortunately it didn't take into account my vehement denial: "You wait til it gets cold! You wait til I can wear bright yellow tights!") and living in constant fear that I'll run into one of my readers while dressed only slightly better than Kevin Federline made me realize I need to step up my game.

I decided to start by switching up my sad summer makeup routine (currently: mascara, powder, whining about being sweaty before 10am). So a couple days ago, I piled on some metallic teal eye shadow (MAC paint pot), and I loved it so much I did it the next day, and I'll probably do it today too. I love the bright summery color, and I'm really impressed with MAC's staying power (these pictures are from the end of a long, sweaty day).

I think it adds enough pizazz to excuse my pitiful daily uniform through the next heat wave. And you wait til it gets cold! You wait til I can wear bright yellow tights!

Wednesday, July 16, 2008

If You've Got Some Extra Time...

...or even if you don't, cancel your plans and listen to Thomas' debut podcast. It's funny, fashion-forward, enlightening, and he sounds a hell of a lot like Ira Glass minus the long pretentious pauses, which is my one beef with Ira Glass.

Five Men's MEN'S FASHION First Impressions

As the title so confusingly suggests, today I decided to add a supreme twist to that old favorite, Five Men's Fashion First Impressions, and get the men's impression of a men's fashion item (this is blowing your mind, right?).

Behold, the "Tight Sag" by Soulful Commandoe:

Rachael from It Was Funny In My Head sent me this picture along with the following email: "OK...I blogged a bit about these things a while back, but can't stop thinking about the horror. Are they serious?? WTF are they supposed to be? Are they a joke? Thoughts from your guys?? (Would Robert Downey Jr. Junior wear them??)"

Here are the thoughts from the guys (and an answer from Robert Downey Jr. Junior):

Brother, age 13: They remind me of those Ocean Spray commercials- what those guys in the cranberry fields would wear, except they are too badass for cranberry farmers. I know! They're what punk cranberry farmers would wear!

Father: Patently stupid. It seems like you could have a few bricks in your pants and nobody would ever know it.

Boyfriend: Uuuhhhhh...One of the uglier things I've ever seen. It also reminds me of, you know when girls get the double boob? When their bra is too tight? This is like, double butt.

Brother, age 21: They combined all the worst features of really trashy men's jeans with all the worst features of really trashy women's jeans and added suspenders to the whole mess. Pretty awful.

Brother, age 18 (aka Robert Downey Jr. Junior): Umm...(laughs)...First impression--it looks like something a hip Daniel Plainview would wear.
Me: Who's Daniel Plainview?
Brother, age 18: Psh! Daniel Day Lewis' character in There Will Be Blood.
Me: Aha. Well, would you wear them?
Brother, age 18: I'd wear them if I was wading in a swamp.

See more pictures of these crazy-ass (literally) pants here.

Want the opinion of a few good men? Send me a picture and I'll make it happen!

Tuesday, July 15, 2008

Comment of the Week

I can't stand punctuation errors (especially when I find them on my own blog - makes me feel like someone just walked in on me while I'm getting out of the shower).


Dear J. Crew,

You charge $500 for a corduroy blazer, so it seems like you'd have a little extra cheddah to spend on, I don't know, rudimentary grammar classes?

Cuz this is pretty egregious.

I'm already upset that I bought a $60 sweater from your sale section when I had a fever. I'm really not in the mood for irresponsible apostrophe usage.


Monday, July 14, 2008

Reader Poll! Nice Day for a Black Wedding?

Dear Daddy Likey,

My stepbrother is getting married in mid-September. I'm going traveling at the end of September and so am trying to save as much money as possible and not buy things that I don't need and that aren't travel-related. I've got a lovely dress that I think would be perfect for the occasion but the problem is that it's black (and the floral version costs £80). I don't know if it's really inappropriate to wear black to a wedding.

It won't be a super traditional wedding but I know the bride will be wearing a pretty semi-traditional dress, and she wore black to our parents' wedding a couple of years ago. This is still a bit of a sore point with my mum, although she thinks I should wear my black dress in September which I can't help but think is an opinion driven by spite.

I don't know, what do you think? Is it inappropriate to wear black to a wedding?

Black Sheep

Dear Sheep,

I hope you don't mind, but I'm feeling the profound urge to poll:

So, what do you think? Is it OK to wear black to a wedding?
Yes, but only for spite.
No. Way.
Depends on the dress.
Other (I'll explain in the comments) free polls

I'm would vote D myself (a lovely perfect dress is perfect in any color, right?), but in the spirit of the election season, I'm fully prepared to adjust my beliefs and principles based on public opinion. I will issue my final decree (and fashion advice) at the end of the week.

p.s. Your mum sounds awesome.

Saturday, July 12, 2008

I Will Follow You

I started a new Tumblr blog to post the stories, pictures, and other cyber scraps that don't quite fit on Daddy Likey. All the cool kids were doing it (ahem, Tricia, Cate, Alec, Lindsay), and since I love nothing more than copying the cool kids, I thought I'd get in on it too.

Feel free to check it out, and if you're a Tumblr-er (?), make it known so we can follow each other!

p.s. Longtime residents of Oregon may know the origin of my Tumblr title, but it still doesn't make any sense.

Thursday, July 10, 2008

Martin's Fears, Confirmed

One time, about a year ago, this guy caught my cousin Carl and me rifling through his garbage can, and he chased us away screaming "I'll put a boot in your ass if I catch you here again!"

You know, I haven't seen Carl in a long time.


Steve Madden "foxiee" ("raccoonee?") boots, $110,

Wednesday, July 09, 2008

Riding the Bus with My Nightmares

I apologize for my blogging absence. I've been on a family vacation and the internet connections have left much to be desired (like, maybe, a connection).

So, in order to attend my friend Rachel's annual Fourth of July Extravaganza, Nick and I missed the first couple days of the vacation. Since we are good/cliche/poor Oregonians and don't have a car, my mom offered to pay for a couple of bus tickets to get us here. And that bus ride, my friends, was a ride I'll never forget.

In order to best convey the suffering, here is a minute by minute recount of those harrowing hours:

The Bus Diaries

1:30 Approach the bus. Driver cordially exclaims, “You must be Nick and Winona!” “Why yes, we are!” we say, beaming. Wow, first name service? This is going to be a great trip!

1:31 Board the bus, which is empty except for a white supremacist sitting in first seat. He seems to be in a good mood. We sit down and I whisper to Nick if he noticed the white supremacist. Nick replies, “You don’t know that he’s a white supremacist. White Pride tattoos can mean a lot of things.”

1:35 Make a stop in Gresham. I’m overcome by an epic smell and look up to see a man and woman boarding the bus. The man is carrying a baby and the woman is carrying a garbage bag. The woman sits down in the seat across the aisle from me. The man and baby sit down in the seat right in front of me. The baby starts crying. Suddenly the bus feels extremely humid. And what the hell is that smell?? I’m trapped.

1:40 The woman begins emptying the contents of her garbage bag onto the seat between us. Curious, and trying not to vomit as the smell grows exponentially, I look over and see a vast and painfully pungent sampling of the Carl’s Jr. menu—western double cheeseburgers, nachos supreme (with extra sour cream), three large fries, and a full drink carrier.

1:42 Woman begins her feast. She does not appear to be sharing.

1:50 Baby dramatically spits his pacifier onto the bus floor. “Oohhhh no, daddy! Why’d you let him do that?” woman screeches at the man as she puts aside her greasy smorgasbord, and waddles up the aisle to retrieve the soiled binky. She picks it up, and, without hesitation, puts it in her own mouth, slurps off the dirt and hair, and sticks it back in the baby’s mouth.

1:51 Woman continues eating. Bus continues heating.

2:15 Bus driver gets on microphone and asks if it’s too hot. “YES” everyone on the bus yells. “What?” the bus driver says. “YES” we say again. “Hmm, I can’t hear you,” the bus driver says, and turns off the microphone.

3:30 Bus pulls into a mini mart in a small central Oregon city for a scheduled food stop. I actually push an old woman out of the way in order to get off that humid cheeseburger chamber of horrors as fast as possible (hey, I’m not proud of it, but it had to be done). I stumble into the open air, gasping for my life.

3:31 Nick and I head into the mini mart to get something cool to drink. We grab some gallon jugs of water and get in line, only to find Ms. Carl’s Jr. herself paying for Odorous Food Binge: Redux. The counter is piled high with beef sticks, chunks of cheddar cheese, teriyaki jerky, generic brand “Steak Fries in a Bag” (how does that work, exactly?), two liters of Mountain Dew Code Red, and Sprite.

3:35 Leaving the store, I ponder whether I could just settle down in this town and make a new life for myself. Did I ever like my friends in Portland that much? Hadn’t I always wanted to become a cattle rancher?

3:36 Nick forces me onto the bus. I decide that I hate him. There are three more hours to go.

3:45 Woman reaches over me to give the man a beefstick. “Here, daddy, give baby his beefstick!” she says. As she digs into her bag of steak fries, the man eats the beefstick.

3:47 Woman looks over at “daddy” and baby. “Hey!” she screams. “Daddy! You ate his beefstick!” “No I didn’t!” says daddy. “Yes you did! It’s gone! Where did it go? YOU ATE IT!” “NO I DIDN’T!”

3:48 I am in the middle of a full-blown domestic dispute. Over a beefstick. What has my life come to? How did I get here?

3:49 It’s about to get so much worse.

3:50 I hear splashing and tapping and wheezing coming from the seat next to me. After much trepidation, I look over to see what in the hell this woman is doing now. OH MY GOD. Using her Carl’s Jr. drink carrier, she is hastily mixing up a concoction of SPRITE AND BREAST MILK. She funnels it into the baby’s bottle, and, as the bus careens down a bumpy road, passes it over our heads to daddy. We hold our breath. For a few reasons.


3:55 I get out my journal and start making a list of things I’d like to do before I die.

4:15 Woman gets on the phone and starts having a screaming-loud conversation about the exact amount of money she won in a car accident settlement. “EIGHT! No, eight THOUSAND! DOLLARS! Yes!”

4:45 No better time to break into those Carl’s Jr. nachos supreme that have been fermenting on the hot bus for three hours, right? Liquid sour cream drips down her chin onto the floor by my feet.

4:50 Nick gets out his journal and starts making a list of things he’d like to do before he dies.

5:30 SO close! Almost there! What else could happen? I call my brother to tell him to pick us up at 6:30.

5:31 While talking to my brother, I hear the scariest words I’ve ever heard coming from the seat next to me: “Daddy, do you think I should I let it breathe?” Before I even know what she’s talking about, I drop the phone into my lap, curl into a fetal position and whisper “no no no no.” I can hear my brother’s voice faintly, “Hello? Nona? Are you there? Hello?”

5:32 Daddy nods that she should let it breathe. I have never hated anyone more than I hate daddy in this moment.

5:33 I look over (how can I not?). Woman begins to unwrap wet gauze from her severely burned hand. She coils the stained material in the same Carl’s Jr. cup she used to mix her breast milk. She waves her shriveled digits inches from Nick’s face and declares, “I think it’s infected!”

6:30 We finally pull into the parking lot of our final destination. My family is there waiting for us. They are greeted as liberators.

Updated to add: In response to numerous commenters who posted something along the lines of "DEAR GOD PLEASE TELL ME THIS IS A JOKE," I'm sorry. It's true. All of it.

Monday, July 07, 2008

Blogback Mountain

A fantastic summary of my friend Meg's experience at our fourth of July bash.

A fantastic summary of things we discussed at our fourth of July bash.

Caroline has alerted me to a horrifying, click-at-your-own-risk, NSFW, Don't Show-cha Your Chocha that might be more aptly called Don't Photoshop Out Your Chocha.

Send Princess Poochie your best Shoe Story and win a Zappo's gift card! Do it do it do it!

Krisatomic rocks it out.

Smaggle Style has quickly become one of my favorite blogs--SO creative, funny, and stylish.

Ambika's got a fever, and the only prescription is this necklace!

Karla is so cute that if I saw her in person I would probably do something stupid like hump her leg. And it would probably be the last time I saw her in person.

Gala deserves a leg-humping too. OK, OK, I'll stop.

And finally, here is a transcript of the inner monologue that occurs every time I visit Style Bubble:

First Day: Gasp! OK, yes, this is it. This is my favorite Susie outfit OF ALL TIME. No doubt. FOR SURE. God, she has nice legs.

Next Day: Gasp! Alright, nevermind, THIS has to be my favorite Susie outfit of ALL TIME. Aaahhh the colors! Like a perfect sunset!

Day after that: Gasp! Wait, no, this is it! Damnit, Bubble! Stop messing with my head!

Friday, July 04, 2008

Fight the Powder? Not Anymore.

I don't know why I bought Clinique's Almost Powder Makeup. Well, that's a huge lie. I do know why: I bought it because the salesgirl was wearing a lab coat which made me believe anything she said, and she said that buying this powder would change my life. She also waved a free gift in front of my face and said it could be mine if I pre-ordered the powder (it has been documented here before that I have the willpower of a particularly impulsive Jack Russell Terrier).

And so, despite the fact that I have never bought or liked powder makeup, I became the owner of an allegedly life-changing compact full of it.

This poor impulse purchase languished in my makeup drawer for quite sometime until a couple weeks ago I realized that my usual tinted moisturizer was not doing so well in the summer heat.
The color didn't match my darker skin tone and the liquid formula was routinely transforming into a sweaty sludge.

Panicked at the prospect of choosing between no skin protection in the searing heat and spending another $30 on makeup, my mind flashed to the lonely green compact. It wasn't liquid, and it was already paid for. Perfect.

I brushed some on over my sunscreen and while it didn't save the polar bears, it kind of did change my life: it was light and flattering and evened my skin tone beautifully. It didn't turn into sweaty sludge on contact. It didn't clog my pores. It didn't make me look like Sean Patrick Flanery in Powder, which was a huge plus. (In other news, I just realized that Sean Patrick Flanery's initials are SPF--coincidence? no. way.)

Perhaps it's only so great because it's Almost Powder Makeup rather than Powder Makeup, but whatever the reason, I've been wearing it almost every day (heh, heh, see what I did there?). I'm pretty sure I'll go back to tinted moisturizer in the winter (the idea of scraping powder onto my ashen January skin is enough to give me nightmares), but for now, I'm quite happy with my excellent, impulse-purchased complexion.

Wednesday, July 02, 2008

Dear Daddy Likey: Don't Make Me Pull A Kim Kardashian

Dear Daddy Likey,

I'm so happy that you've found a swimsuit that you love, and that flatters a part of your body you're not thrilled with. But I have a different problem altogether. My waist measurement is a 26 but my hips are a 42, meaning that I don't mind wearing bikinis because my stomach is okay, but my hips and thighs are all wobbly and squishy and dimply. (Cute, I know.) And there is NO swimsuit for that problem! I hate having to wear a sarong until the second I get into the water, and I don't want to go all Kim Kardashian and actually TAKE A TOWEL INTO THE WATER WITH ME, but I don't know what else to do!

Please help me! Are there any creative solutions? I can't think of ANYTHING!


Stacy Sa-Wrong

Dear Stacy,

I'll be honest. My response to your query started out along the lines of, "Own it, girlfriend! Don't let anyone make you feel bad about your squishyness! Woo! Girl Power!" But then I realized that if I asked someone for advice about swimwear that camouflaged my stomach, and they said, "Wear a bikini! Own it, girlfriend! Don't let anyone make you feel bad about your Jack Black-sized gut! Woo! Girl Power!" I would have to track them down and strangle them with a conservative one piece.

So, with that in mind, I came up with a couple more realistic, less annoying suggestions for you.

Swim Skirts and Swim Dresses

For many of us, the term "swim skirt" triggers traumatizing visions of frumpy grandma suits, but a couple weeks ago, my friend Jess bought this swimsuit and showed me the light:

It's even cuter in real life, seriously. The gold details around the bust and the ruching at the waist really stand out.
Black Gold Stud Halter Swimsuit, ON SALE for $39,

When she came over to show me and take a dip in the pool (which, because it's located in a condo complex with a large retiree population, has seen its share of scary swim skirts), I was blown away: it was glamorous, flattering, unique, sexy, and SKIRTED. And here's the thing, it wasn't glamorous, flattering, unique and sexy in spite of the skirt, but the skirt actually contributed to all of those things. Paradigm. Shifted.

My beautiful plus size readers can enjoy Jess' lovely swimsuit above and the equally chic skirted suit below:

Hot-Pink Star Print Halter Swimsuit, also ON SALE for $39,

This one is so cute I want to wear it everyday, not just to cover up a little extra junk in the trunk:

How cute would it be with a simple black bikini top?
Coral Floral Flirt Skirt, $28,

Adjustable Gottex Skirted Bikini Bottoms, $74,

If you like the look of the skirt above, but prefer not to spend so much, this two piece set is only $18:

Going Dotty Swimwear,

How freakin' amazing is this swimdress? You could wear it to the Oscars, and then go for a dip in the pool, and then wear it to the Grammys. SO chic.
Anne Cole Swimwear Shirred One Piece, $112,

Also check out this amazing DKNY swimdress, which is kind of cuter than any of the regular dresses I own, on sale at Macy's.

Board Shorts

These can be a little tougher to work into your swim wardrobe unless you already prefer a more athletic look, but with a million different cool prints and varied lengths, you're sure to find one that fits your style.

Board shorts are a much better option than wearing a towel into the water, if just for the simple fact that you won't be clinging to a giant waterlogged piece of cotton while sinking to your death and shrieking "Don't look at my thighs!!" Pair them with a bikini top or slip them over a one-piece, and you've got yourself a hip-covering and functional swim ensemble.

Here are two bright and crazy options (my personal favorite), but just google "boardshorts" for about seven billion different options, including solid colors, designer, and knee-length styles.

Billabong Flower Child Board Short, $38,

Roxy Polka Party Boardshort, $37,

Feel free to share your suggestions for Stacy in the comments!

Tuesday, July 01, 2008

An Imagined Conversation Between Myself and This Shopbop Model

Me: So, how are things?

Shopbop Model: Good, good. Things are good.

Me: How's the family? The family good?

Shopbop Model: They're fine, yeah, they're doing well.

Me: Good. And work? How's that going for you?

Shopbop Model: It's really great. This shopbop gig has got me some other offers and I think it's gonna be a really good year for me.

Me: That's fantastic! How about your love life?

Shopbop Model: Umm...Actually it's not so good. It's really bad, to be honest. It's kinda hard for me to talk about, but, well, I walked in on my boyfriend having sex with my mo--


Shopbop Model: What?


Shopbop Model: Wait, this? No, no, this is a dress.

Me: Yeah, that's a towel.

Shopbop Model: But it costs $500!

Me: Yeah, that's a really overpriced towel.

Shopbop Model: But it has sequins!

Me: I bought a sequined towel once. From Hilo Hattie. It said "MAUI" on it in silver sequins. And it was a towel.

Shopbop Model: Really? Why would you buy a sequined towel?

Me: I don't know. It hurt really bad so I gave it away.

Shopbop Model: Good call.
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