Thursday, October 24, 2013

Smoke and Mirrors

Romper mania
and pet peeve nombre deux.

I have been outright vocal at how I cringe at the term blogger whenever anyone asks if I blog. If being a pseudo-amateur-writer-about-clothes-style-and-personal-business could be summarized into another word, I would gladly embrace it. I find the term blogger too mainstream and has made itself into an actual industry. Take no offense, if this entry pops out of your feed it can be at least one of three things: we have a mutual respect for 1) blogging as a hobby, 2) fashion is just a serious business as music, food or art 3) or if you simply stumbled upon my site: you're just another blog lurker like me. Go ahead, try it, call me a fashion blogger and i'd be livid in a split second.

Welcome to the Blogging Monopoly, b*tch. Ever challenged yourself to question the sole purpose of putting out a blog? Whether it's for showcasing personal style or creativity, or simply for reconnecting, what do you think sets you apart from the 736482947 girls who author a blog then? There is the local fashion blogging scene and then there is a bloggatory (blog+purgatory). When someone mentions the term blogger in a contemporary context, why does it exude a mainstream, capitalist vibe when really, the rest of us just want to have a virtual space to scribble on? Not everyone intends to make a name, yet people look upon (/down on) you (yes me, a "blogger" enjoying the limbo aka bloggatory) as a struggler, trying to push their own blog up in the fashion blogging scene. It's almost an unprecedented joke how the term blogger became synonymous to, excuse the profanity, fame-whore, label-whore, what have you

People look at blogs as a personal, superficial, quasi-narcissistic online space headed to the direction of commercialization (if they can make it that far). But really, some of us just want to live a life; a well-documented life at that. Excuse me while I throw in some more excuses :) I author a blog; kind of like how Professor Dumbledore dumps his thoughts for the day in a pensieve or how Carrie Bradshaw spews her frustrations in Sex and the City. Same difference. Besides, I love fashion so might as well put a stake on my style by documenting it. But THIS cannot solely raise me to the ranks of fashion bloggers, because I am not one. I just blog. I author a whatever blog. My introversion coerced the need to channel my energy into something creative -- whether it's ranting, lusting or lashing out on life's cruelties.

So much for an introduction. This outfit will start a series of my romper rampage. Who ever invented onesies must be having some serious mixing and matching problems. A playsuit is a hit-or-miss article of clothing; it can either look put-together, or it can be tacky roadkill waiting to be obliviated by the next big trend. I am particularly picky when it comes to playsuits and they have to meet 2 criteria before they can join my growing family of playsuits: 1) it should be stylishly uncommon and 2) it must, MUST be comfortable because crotch rape is a serious crime!

This playsuit obviously met both criteria. I have never encountered a dressy cape playsuit with overlapping lapels. It was a sure-purchase from the moment I saw its entire Topshop-goodness. I am in love with the brand-always have, always will. I went for the overkill with layered chain neckpiece and I couldn't care less if it weighed a ton. The works.
Topshop leopard cape playsuit | Prada ballerinas | Balenciaga City

All Killer. No Filter. Okay this is lame

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