Category Archives: Walk, Walk, Fashion Baby

[stereo]typically, i might be a stereotype.

Yesterday, during mornings with Poof:

Poof: We’re here so much, I feel like we should know their (the barista people) names.

Me: Are we here that much?

Poof: Basically. We’re probably almost hipsters.

Poof: (to the guy making coffee): Would it creep you out if we told you we like the way you brew?

Poof and I were at our regular seats at our latest favorite place.

MadCap Mocha in all it's glory.

MadCap Mocha in all it’s glory.

We normally head to MadCap on my mornings off, sit in the window seats, people watch, and instagram our coffee. I guess it’s kind of hipster, depending which filter you use on instagram.

Me: You are basically wearing Beatle boots. That seems kind of hipster.

Poof: Says the girl wearing combat boots and skinny jeans.

Me: …touche.

I debated the situation as the day continued.

I mean, sure I was rocking combat boots, but I’d been wearing combat boots since the 90’s.

I had a pair of these from GUESS that I basically wore straight through junior high. I also had a sleeveless white cotton shirt with a hood that I wore with the boots for whatever reason. WALK, WALK, JUNIOR HIGH FASHION, BABY.


I get to work and ask CW to document my outfit, for blogging purposes.

Me: Am I a hipster?

CW: [Takes photo.] You kind of look like a hipster.

Me: But the question is if it actually makes me a hipster.

I felt like I was in the hipster version of the You know you’re from Michigan when…jokes that Jeff Foxworthy does.

You might be a hipster if…

Hipster L.A.

So, then I’m heading to Harvest Health Foods, listening to The National and thinking that hell, if I am a hipster, then I guess maybe I’m kind of a hipster.

It is what it is.

I find what I need and head to the checkout. The cashier has multiple piercings in each ear. She’s wearing plaid and has a button on her apron that says “Hugs, not Bombs.” Her glasses are plastic, and when she steps out to bag my items, she’s wearing TOMS.

My inner monologue tells me that she might be a hipster, and so I smile at her, thinking that we might be kindred spirits if I’m a hipster and she’s a hipster.

Cashier: …that’s a nice jacket.

Me: Thanks.



Inner Monologue: I don’t think she actually thinks it’s a nice jacket.

Me: It’s pleather.

Her: Of course it is.


I can hope and I can dream, cuz I am full of…full of…full of…

It’s funny, after a wedding actually happens, I spent next month or so just saying that they should totally throw a wedding every weekendAll the hubbub in getting up to the wedding is over, and the end result is so awesome that you really forget about said hubbub.


SoccerGirl requested that the Bridesmaid wear nude shoes with our dresses. Which was well and good, and I was all of course I can wear nude shoes, until three days before the wedding when Poof and I both realized we don’t really have appropriate nude shoes.

This prompted the hubbub of a shopping trip – of finding nude shoes, and texting SoccerGirl pictures of nude shoes because it turns out there are a lot of nude shoes out there, and trying on nude shoes, and finally buying nude shoes. Then eventually, there was the hubbub of trying on said nude shoes with said bridesmaids dress because you really should see how it looks all put together.

You know, just checking and stuff.

I get to this step, and I put the dress on and the shoes on, and send pictures and snapchats and tweets and think to myself —

Said shoes and said dress.

Said shoes and said dress.

YesI can rock this.

After this whole process, I go to get out of the shoes and the dress, because it’s Michigan, and it’s cold, and my family has this thing where we don’t turn on the heat until after it snows, and it’s only November and it hasn’t snowedand this dress is strapless, and-

And I’m like. Mother. Fucker.

I start yelling at my mom like Will Ferrell in Wedding Crashers because it’s seriously really cold and I’m seriously really stuck.


Mom: Stop yelling. You’ll wake everyone up.

Me: It’s so cold.

At this moment, I get a tweet back to my #GirlProblems twitter plea.

Me: This guy says I’m flirting on the internet.

Mom: Tsk. People shouldn’t flirt on the internet.

Me: I wasn’t even flirting!

Mom: If you flirt too much, people won’t like you.

Me: I’m not flirting.

Mom: People who are like that just have low self esteem.

Me: …

Mom: …

Me: …

Mom: …

Me: …unzip me?

Rules of Fashion and Humor

“I haven’t blogged lately,” I lament to Poof over my Benedict Timothy from Brandywine’s. It’s corned beef hash covered with eggs covered with Hollandaise sauce and it’s 200% delicious.

Poof is noshing on an omelette, which she’s affectionately named “n-omlette.”

“Blog about today,” she tells me. We’re dressed up to do photos for her fashion blog, which is our Tuesday/Thursday Mommy day routine. Sometimes it feels good to get out of the yoga pants. “Blog about wearing white after Labor Day.”

“But wearing white after Labor Day isn’t funny!” I argue. “White pants aren’t funny, unless you know the unlucky person who looks like Moses parted the red sea in her pants. And with my luck, it would be me, which means it wouldn’t be funny to me, so I wouldn’t want to blog it.”

We pause for a moment of silence – to all those women who don’t know when their TOM is and have ruined a good pair of white pants.

Balancing Act

Balancing with my bike thighs.

Post breakfast, Poof takes a photo of me trying to balance on a curb.

I’m failing, for one thing, for another, I realize my pants aren’t even white-white. The tank top I’m wearing is definitely white, but the jeans are just a shade or two off. They’re cream. Or ecru. Or off-white. Or…

“I’d call them more of a winter white,” Poof tells me.

White/White vs Winter White/White

White/White vs Winter White/White

“So they’d could be funny. If you happened to lose me in the snow,” I sigh.

“That’s why you should probably wear them after Labor Day.” Poof tells me.

Well. I’m silent. I have no response.

Touche, Poof. Touche.

Fashion by the Soon to be Invisible Woman, come winter. Sweater from Rachel by Rachel Roy at Macy's. Tank Top from Express. Jeans from Old Navy. Boots from Macy's.

Fashion by the Soon to be Invisible Woman, come winter.
Sweater from Rachel by Rachel Roy at Macy’s. Tank Top from Express. Jeans from Old Navy. Boots from Macy’s.

Life imitates FRIENDS. Also. Mooning.

The Place: Wolfgang’s.

The Day: Labor Day.

The Cast: Myself, the Boo, and HanSolo.

The topic: TV Shows.

Conversation as follows:


Han: Meh, I was never really a FRIENDS fan.

Me: Are you kidding? ANY MOMENT IN LIFE. ANY MOMENT. Can relate to a FRIENDS episode. THE ONE WITH THE ANYTHING.

NEW STORY. The Boo is in school. Full day, kindergarten. I walk him everyday with his backpack and lunchbox and it’s adorable. But this means that my Hotch and I have these mornings to do kid-free things like go outfit shooting for her blog (and occasionally mine).

This past Tuesday, we decided to venture out for breakfast before walking around Eastown, because I love Wolfgang’s. Wolfgang’s is the food of the gods.

The sitting and eating and conversation was great. Post eating, we headed out to a gorgeous fall day. The sun was shining, the air was crisp, and the wind was blowing.

And Poof and I were dressed like this:

Morning Dates

Skirts. Fun and flirty.

We made it through most of our photo shoot relatively unscathed. We took photos. We found fun new places to take photos.

Poof: This alley is awesome looking.

Me: This alley looks like homeless men have peed in it.

Poof was right. It was a cool looking alley.

Poof was right. It was a cool looking alley.

But then. As most stories go, things have to happen.

And do you know what skirts do in this beautiful fall weather?


The Place: Wolfgang’s.

The Day: Labor Day.

The Cast: Myself, the Boo, and HanSolo.

The topic: TV Shows.

Conversation as follows:


HanSolo: Meh, I was never really a FRIENDS fan.

Me: Are you kidding? ANY MOMENT IN LIFE. ANY MOMENT. Can relate to a FRIENDS episode. THE ONE WITH THE ANYTHING.

The one in which L.A. moons Eastown on a Windy Day.


You’re welcome, Grand Rapids. You’re welcome.

Sunnies: Target. Sweater, Skirt, and Kneesocks: Forever 21. Boots: Francesca's. Ass: 100% L.A.'s

Sunnies: Target.
Sweater, Skirt, and Kneesocks: Forever 21.
Boots: Francesca’s.
Ass: 100% L.A.’s

What Not to Wear

I’ve heard there’s a TV show by this name, but considering that we haven’t had cable at my house since about 2009, I wouldn’t really know. What I do know, however, is that getting dressed is such a pain in the ass.

Poof, SoccerGirl, and I decided last week to go out to eat. Which was a great idea. So great, that we decided we should dress nicely and wear heels since we barely ever get to do that (Except for Poof because she’s a fashion blogger and stuff). But seriously. I’m always in scrubs.

I wanted some damn high heels on my feet.

At least, I did, until it came down to D-Day.

Poof texted me a number of times throughout the day asking what I was wearing.

My silence is due to me having no freakin' clue what to wear. Besides like, clothes.

My silence is due to me having no freakin’ clue what to wear. Besides like, clothes.

I tried to think of my closet and envision what I could wear, but then my head started to hurt because I hated everything single thing in it.

Poof: Did you decide what you’re wearing?

L.A.: No. I think I’m just going to go naked.

Poof: Just wear what you’re wearing now.More Questioning

L.A.: I’m literally in underwear. This isn’t even allowed in public.

Poof: I’m going to burn my whole closet.

L.A.: OH. I want to do that too.

Poof: Did you know you can burn Doritos as kindling? And it makes multi-colored fire?

L.A.: I have heard that. We should burn our clothes AND Doritos. It’ll be a big colorful fire.

Poof: Done.


Poof: But what are you going to wear tonight?

A timeline of my evening before going out.

6:21 pm: Get home from work. Acknowledge I will not wear scrubs to dinner. Take off scrubs.

6:23 pm: Glare at closet.

6:25 pm: Candy Crush marathon.

6:35 pm: Above conversation with Poof. More angry glaring at closet.

6:41 pm: Try on outfit 1.

6:43 pm: Outfit 2.

6:45 pm: Outfit 3.

6:52 pm: Outfits 6, 7, and 20394803948.

7:00 pm: Stare at floor in dismay.

Rejected Outfits

7:01 pm: Cry because I don’t know why I have so much laundry to do.

7:03 pm: Put on outfit. Hate it. Leave bedroom.

7:05 pm: Walk out door. Lock door. Realize I have no make up on and have not done hair.

7:05 and 30 seconds pm: Decide I’ve come too far.

7:10: Officially leave. Decide to later write blog. Decide to probably not do laundry.

L to R. Poof, SoccerGirl, L.A.

L to R. Poof, SoccerGirl, L.A.

7:30 pm: Don’t worry. We were both clothed and complete ladies in public.

10:21 pm: Mostly.

Oh, and fast forward a week. Repeat process.




Same story. Different event.




P.S. You can for real see exactly what Poof wore. Here it is. 

The Troubles with Second Base

Training for my 10 mile run and going to Zumba have really started to give me results for my physique. I don’t look like a body builder, but I feel like a much healthier person.

There is only one part of my body that hasn’t had much transformation because of working out.  And really hasn’t since 5th grade.

People… that would be my chest.

I’ve never been part of itty bitty titty committee and I should be feel blessed, but there are down falls to having a chest.

Table cloth or a shirt…

I’m a petite person except for my chest. Most cases I have to purchase a size bigger to give my two chest roommates space to breath. Having to make this accommodation makes me look like I’m wearing a table cloth instead of an actual t-shirt. The table cloth curse also occurs, I do not own a white shirt that doesn’t have a stain on the chest area. It never fails… I put on a  shirt and ten minutes later a stain magically appears on my chest shelf.


Running blind…

I’ve been running 3 times week to get ready for my race, but I have to plan my laundry days so I have enough clean sports bras. Ladies with chests don’t have the luxury to run free. It’s could turn into a disaster. If I don’t strap down my precious cargo I could injure myself. Things could start flying around uncontrollably, hitting me in the face.


Victoria does have a secret…

It’s slim picking when I go bra shopping. Since I don’t have to fake it to make it, I don’t get the choice of the colorful fun bras at Vikki’s. I get stuck with three choices: white, tan and black. The fun bras usually have too much padding, giving too much push-up. If I were to risk wearing the bright colorful bra with padding, I could endanger myself by being suffocated with my two attached boulders. I like breathing so I stick with the bland pickings.

huge bra gigantic humongous large funny

Long live the bigg girls.

You could fit a small child in there. I’m talking about my purse.*

A few new blogs that I’ve been reading have done this post where they take the contents of their purse, and artfully display what’s in it, and it’s actually very fascinating to me.

I’m like…wow. They’re so organized. Their purses are so cute. They carry around very little. Meanwhile, I’m walking around with so much stuff that I could get kidnapped and be fine for the next few days by the amount of stuff I carry around.

Their blogs are aptly titled: What’s in my bag: Vacation/School/Uni/Etc Edition.

What’s in Camie’s Bag — from

So, after some hemming and hawing I decided to do my own post of this.

Mine will be aptly titled:

What’s in my bag: I’m a hoarder Edition 

Here is my purse. My kid fits inside it.

Here is my purse. My kid fits inside it.

Or maybe: What’s in my bag: Why I have back problems edition.

Here is all the shit inside it.



This is what is in my purse in no particular order.

  • Matching wallet — I’m particular. I like my bra to match my underwear. I like my wallet to match my purse.
  • Random receipts — because a trash can is always too far away.
  • #LettersFromLA — if I’m out shopping, or not shopping, or doing something that’s not shopping while I’m actually really shopping and see something kitschy that I want to mail to a pen pal, I’ll throw it in my purse to remind me to mail it. And then probably forget about it.
  • Guitar picks — because the guitar just didn’t fit in the bag.
  • Ticket Stubs — I always say that I’ll scrapbook things like this so I save them. Plus, they’re fun to mail off sometimes.
  • Make up — when I say make up, I mean “lots of chapstick because I forget I already had one in my bag.”
  • Sunglasses — Multiple pairs. See make up.
  • Cameras — Multiple cameras, multiple medias.
  • Hockey laces — just because.
  • ALSO: snacks, a blue power ranger, my missing set of spare keys, mittens, my kid’s hat, passport pictures, and A DOLLAR, GUYS. I FOUND A DOLLAR.


*Yes, my uterus also applies, as I have had a small child basically growing** in my uterus.

**Full-on growing. Not basically growing. Growing babies is hard.

The World is Ending and I’m Turning 25.

So I just have to state how amazing my best friend/co-blogger really is. I’m so happy that I have her in my life to keep me sane and to keep our blog alive and well. Bravo, L.A.!!!

I apologize for my absence. Life gets going for me and I get writers block, making it hard to keep in touch.

This morning I received some snail mail from the Secretary of State. The state of Michigan politely reminded me that I’m turning 25 on December 23rd, and my driver’s license will expire. I do wonder if I have to renew since the world is ending on the 22nd. I will have to call customer service and ask. Maybe they have the answer on the ‘Frequently asked Questions’ section of their website.


I have been alive for a quarter of a century. Such a monumental moment. I have reached my quarter life crisis. How should I deal with this dilemma? Buy a sport car? Date a younger man? Get hair plugs?

No, none of these excite me so I decided to list the 25 things I have learned by the age of 25. Drum roll, please….

  1. A smile can get you a long way.
  2. If a guy says others think he is an asshole, then he is an asshole.
  3. Never regret paying for an expensive pair of jeans. No one will ever complain that your butt looks too good when wearing them.
  4. Pay attention to how a guy treats his mom. He will treat you the same way.
  5. Love as hard as you can. And never regret it.
  6. Nothing is ever final in life.
  7. Always be overdressed.
  8. Enter every room like you’re in technicolor.
  9. Find your signature perfume.
  10. Write down your goals. You will complete them if you do.
  11. Quit the job you hate. You didn’t want to be there anyways.
  12. Find a reason to laugh at the bad moments in your life, then you will only have good memories in your mind.
  13. You can live without the guy you thought you couldn’t. And you will be happier that you did.
  14. Kill your competition with kindness.
  15. Don’t date him if doesn’t tell you that you look nice on the first date.
  16. Asking questions is the most intelligent thing you can do for yourself.
  17. Always step out of your comfort zone. The mystery is the best part.
  18. Don’t date him if he doesn’t make you laugh.
  19. Your best friends are your true soulmates.
  20. Time is an enemy and a friend. Accept it.
  21. Start a dance floor wherever you go.
  22. Laugh at yourself before others can.
  23. Having a good hair day is like winning the lottery.
  24. Always apply more mascara.
  25. Look at the world differently each day.

After writing this list, I think I have found inner peace if the world does supposedly end on the 22nd of the December.

I’m ready to celebrate my life at the age 25. Who wants to join my party? But, I refuse to scream YOLO…

Bike, bike, fashion, baby.

If you follow me on twitter…

if you don’t, WHY THE FECK NOT?!

…you may have noticed me and one @Beausaphine of the awesome waxing all sorts of philosophical about those damn Newsies.

Newsies is a great Disney movie that once starred Batman, AKA Christian Bale, who is probably really pissed now that he’d didn’t decide to be in the musical version. Newsies basically dance and sing and deliver papers in one giant package of awesome. Also, they’re in knickers the entire time. It’s pretty much team awesome.

Newsies, Knickers, and a whole lotta splits.

One Halloween, I actually dressed up as a Newsie, which basically meant I was a [sexy/skanky] Newsie, since that’s how Halloween works.

CoSi: What are you supposed to be?

L.A.: I’m a Newsie!

CoSi: Aren’t you supposed to be in knickers then?

L.A.: Yeah, but I’m a girl, so I’m a [sexy/skanky] Newsie.

Now is the time to seize the day, etc.

It was kind of disappointing then, that I wasn’t rocking the knickers. I was letting down all the Newsies. I proceeded to hope that knickers would make some kind of comeback, besides on a stage in NYC.

Then, this went down.

Kid in office: Hi, I’m [Kid in office] here for an appointment.

Long silence.

L.A.: …did you bike here?

Kid in office: …how’d you know?

L.A.: my dad does the same thing when he bikes.

Way to go, Dad.

Knickers. They’re baaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaack.

It’s T-SHIRT time.

I know you won’t admit it, but you’ve probably seen the big muscles/small brains of Jersey Shore walking around chanting about how It’s T-Shirt Time!

Well, it is t-shirt time. Only I’ve made my own t-shirts, and did not record myself getting dressed. You’re welcome.

Last weekend, I headed out with Alto to this Bottom40 event that happens every couple months in Grand Rapids. I’ve gone twice, and it’s tremendous fun. Namely because the events are themed, and I love themes.

So, with the help of GoldDust via iMessage, I dressed up in my best impression of Yo! MTV Raps, which ended up being a fly girl copy from In Living Color.

I do not dress like this on a regular basis. Shirt: G by Guess. Shorts: Forever 21. Tights: Betsey Johnson. Shoes: my mom in the 90’s.

Despite the fact that I hate my stomach, the outfit went over well, and I actually got lots of compliments on my shirt. The shirt is G by Guess, and I love it, and I’m glad I bought it, but let’s face facts. Normally, I would not pay $29.50 for a shirt that doesn’t even hide areas of my body that I hate. So, in true L.A. does craft time fashion, GoldDust and I packed up the equinox and headed for the craft store!

Step One: Supplies

Fun colors make any design you do pop a little more.

We went to JoAnn’s Fabric, but really any craft store will have basic plain t-shirts for cheap.

You want to buy one that is baggy on you. Try them on in the store. It’ll give you a feel of how much extra fabric you’ll have to work with. I went with an adult male small. I cannot stress enough–if you are recreating a shirt to fit you better, do not buy a fitted shirt. You will be making it to fit — don’t buy it that way!

Cost: $10 for 4 t-shirts

We also bought some Singer scissors. This fabric isn’t difficult to cut, but if you’ve got crappy scissors, you’re going to be wasting more time and energy.

And you’ll get pissed off, possibly throw scissors, cut someone you love, and go to jail.

Get some good scissors.

Cost: $7.99 for 3 scissors.

Step Two: Chop, chop.

There’s a good chance you won’t use any of the finished edges on the shirt, so I always cut those off first the edges of the sleeves and the bottom hem. Those are thicker and harder to cut through, so it’s best to just dispose of them. Then, if you haven’t really don’t this before, it helps to turn the shirt inside out and trace out the outline that you want for your neckline and back. The outline I did just sheered off the sleeves entirely and gave the back a razorback. 

Remember when you trace a design on to make it a little bigger than you want, because you might have to cut off the lines you draw.

Step Three: Designs and Embellishments

I wanted that fringe look, so I cut about five inches in length, an inch apart. The strands will get longer as you pull as them, so it’s best to cut them shorter than you want. After that, I knotted each strand right up next to the body of the t-shirt. If you’re doing knots, make sure you tie them the same way every time. That’ll give it a more uniform look and won’t look as messy.

Up close and personal with fringing.

Step Four: Try it on.

The best way to have it fit the way you want is to try it on. Figure out any spots you have to edit. I decided I wanted mine to have a tighter neckline, so I ended up tying a few more knots to make it fit me better.


My finished product was made for approximately $6 bucks, once you divide the cost among the four shirts I made altogether. A lot better than $29.50, huh? Once again, feel free to follow me and chat me up on Twitter if you’re interested in me making one for you — @LA_thegirl.

And next time on t-shirt time…GoldDust and I rock out our own version of the skull tees.