R.I.P. Michael Jackson, King of Pop and Fashion Trailblazer

In an age of prefabricated pop stars with their forgettable tunes and unremarkable style, it's all the more poignant that we must bid farewell to one of the most original, influential, and talented performers of all time. I've been an unapologetic MJ fan my entire life; I vividly remember sporting I ♥ Michael Jackson shoelaces in my sneakers when I was only about six or seven years old, and a trip to Disney World in Florida when I was nine involved no small amount of trickery in order to see Captain EO more than once without waiting in the long line each time.

Image: GPL Teens

Of course, there was the iconic red leather Thriller jacket I tried to mimic for Halloween a few years ago, a costume which was better in theory than in actual execution.

Image: Tinypic

In my opinion, no one wore a fedora quite like Michael. Please don't challenge me on this one.



Finally, what's a Michael Jackson tribute without a little moonwalk? Rest in peace, MJ.

Hump-Day Hunk

I'd like it noted that today marks the seventh consecutive day of rainy, muddy, miserable weather here in lovely Beantown. On the upside, the flowers are blooming like mad and the greenery resembles that of a tropical rainforest.

However. Northeasterners are not typically known for their geniality (case in point: once, while Derek and I were searching for a wine bottle opener at a Safeway supermarket in Portland, Oregon, not only did an employee ask us if we needed help finding anything, he walked us over to the wine accessories, helped us find the one with the best price, and asked us if we were having a nice night. We were incredulous. That was over a year ago, and we still talk about it), and seven straight days of gloom does nothing to alleviate that fact.

So, somewhat unsurprisingly, we Bostonians are feeling a bit crabby lately, not to mention a little resentful that we are being cheated out of what's usually the nicest time of the year, weather-wise. So I post today's Hunk in the hopes that the sky will clear up and the temperatures rise, at least before it frigging snows again.

Image: J. Crew

Bad Fashion Song Lyrics

The music industry and the fashion industry are often inextricably linked. For better or for worse, musical styles influence fashion trends (you'll remember a brief period in the early 1990s when wearing your jeans backwards didn't seem like a completely nutjob thing to do), while fashion is frequently used as a medium for expressing a preference for a particular musical genre, sometimes to the point of reaching cliché status. Perhaps unsurprisingly then, song lyrics regularly reference personal style, fashion, and of-the-moment clothing designers. It is here that I'd like to make a regular feature calling out the worst offenders; that is, fashion-oriented song lyrics trying really hard to mask terrible songwriting. This will be fun!

Now for our first offender, Katy Perry:

Image: MakeHerUp.com

She's "Kissed a Girl," and she's just "One of the Guys"; she's basically what you would get if Maxim magazine and a roomful of seventeen-year-old boys were hired to come up with an idea for a new female performer. Painstakingly styled and "safe" enough for mainstream radio, she's the summation of a thousand cheesy frat boy fantasies. Oh, and her songwriting is atrocious. From her new single, "Hot n Cold":

You change your mind, like a girl changes clothes.

I'm not sure which is worse: perpetuating stupid gender stereotypes or making incredibly weak analogies? If a concept is so profound or important to you that you must sing an entire song about it, then wouldn't you think of something more original to say? This is just plain lazy. I've done better with a bottle of wine and some magnetic poetry.

Readers, what do you think? Do you have any bad fashion lyrics to pass on? Tell me!

Monstrosity of the Week

One of the unforeseen side effects of having a slight presence on ye olde Interwebs is junk e-mail. I've been fairly lucky thus far with no harassing messages or strange solicitations; I did however, receive this gem a week or so ago (the letter itself is in bold text and my comments are in italics):

Hello my lovely dear friend

Oh, why hello there.

Hope your enjoying the good atmosphere of the day accordingly

I haven't looked at a barometer, but sure, the atmosphere of the day is just peachy.

i know it might surprised how i got your email address, it was while surfing the net that i discovered it

What's actually surprising is that you were able to find my e-mail address while under the impression that people are still calling it "surfing the Net."

then i derived interest and decided to drop few couple of mine words to you. first and foremost, i want to use this medium express myself once again to you. my name is miss anita Aliyu, single young girl, searching for a mature man with good sense of humour, also will appreciate each other start having a good relationship with a real love, caring, understand and honest man

I'm a female fashion blogger with questionable levels of maturity and a decent sense of humor, so I'm not sure I can help you directly, but...

please i appreciate you endeavours contact me directly in the above email address so as to enable me sending my pictures directly to your email box for further introduction

Decent, caring, honest guy with a sense of humor and no objections to a mail-order bride. Access to BabelFish a plus. Got it.

shall be very glad reading good news from you soonest and God bless as you do comply. kiss.

I sure do attract the weirdos.

Dear Ankle Boots, I Barely Knew Ye

You'll remember my post from a week ago, in which I ache for a certain pair of black leather cutout ankle boots. Last Sunday, I took some of my hard-earned birthday money (hey, I had to physically age to receive it, it is hard-earned), marched straight into the Cambridgeside Aldo store, and tried on the coveted ankle boots.

Here they are, looking hot hot hot right out of the box.

This is where things got complicated.

I squeezed my right foot into a boot a half-size bigger than I typically wear and stood up. I was under no illusions that it would be at all comfortable; I was correct. Oh, but were they ever chic! The saleswoman stood by as I teetered around the mirrors, looking at the beautiful shoe from all angles. I carefully tried on the left boot which was even less comfortable; not only is my left foot slightly larger than my right foot, it's also the foot I injured back in November. I stood in front of the mirror again, ignoring the slight tightness in my left ankle and admiring all the extra height they gave me.

These babies were high. Possibly the highest heels I'd ever worn (an honest five inches, according to my tape measure). I could already visualize the disapproving look on my physical therapist's face when the saleswoman spoke up. "They're our last pair in eight-and-a-half," she said. "Plus, you have 30 days to bring them back if you change your mind."

Needless to say, I brought the boots home with me. I tried them on again with similar results. I'm in love with the edgy look of them, they have that wonderful new-leather smell, and of course, I enjoy being five inches taller, but my stupid ankle is simply not in agreement with my fashion sense.

I am planning to return the boots some time next week, hoping that the old expression If you love something, set it free applies, in which an identical pair of boots with a lower heel will eventually be introduced. One can only hope.

Hump-Day Hunk

My good friend Chrissy turns 28 big ones on this lovely June day, so today's Hunk is dedicated to her and her #1, James McAvoy:

Image: VH1.com

Happy birthday Chrissy!

Monstrosity of the Week

Lately, Madewell has been all about the ex-boyfriend. Last month it was jeans, now this:

But I think I understand the rationale here. If I guy I was dating ever sported denim cutoffs with rolled cuffs, he'd become my ex-boyfriend pretty quickly.

Though he could keep the cutoffs.

Hump-Day Hunk: Zack Morris/Mark-Paul Gosselaar

I have to admit that I always loathed the Zack Morris character. Scheming, womanizing, and totally cheesy, he represented everything I disliked in a guy. Let's also not forget his uniform of white high-top Cons basketball sneakers, tapered jeans, and blouse-y button-down shirts (one of which was torn wide open by a lovelorn Screech, leaving me, the sheltered ten-year-old viewer, totally scandalized).

After Zack/Mark's appearance last night on Late Night with Jimmy Fallon, however, I experienced the feeling you sometimes get when you run into someone from high school, many years after graduation:

Image: The Cinema Source

I call it the "Wow, he got hot" phenomenon.

Branding is Everything

The Wrong Brand is a small New York-based operation that makes and sells t-shirts with well-known corporate logos; the catch is that the logo design itself has been swapped with that of another brand. A clever idea indeed, with one particularly sobering design standing out:

The Wrong Brand Saks Fifth Mart, $18.00

In light of news reports predicting the demise of the luxury retail market, along with Wal-Mart's somewhat unsurprising strong sales figures during the recession, not to mention their tendency towards complete world domination, maybe this idea isn't so far-fetched?

Cold Toes, Empty Wallet

You know, I wasn't really sure where I stood on the whole cutout open-toe boot-sandal type deal (if it's hot enough for a sandal than it's too hot for an ankle boot . . . or a shootie, if you will, ugh) until a few minutes ago, when I laid eyes on the most beautiful cutout open-toe boot-sandal type deals I ever did see:

Aldo Parrin, $100

Now, I like your blog quite a bit, FashionToast, but you just cost me a hundred buckaroos.

Flashback Monday

Found this on YouTube after AdAge mentioned what a disappointing flop the advertised product was:

The product: a hamburger packaged so that the hot beef patty was on one side of the box, far removed from the lettuce and tomato so that it would not wilt the vegetables . . . the burger disappeared from menus years ago.



Luckily, the Miami Vice pastel clothing trend went with it.

Bits and Pieces

Life for me began anew yesterday afternoon: I attended a career fair. Wearing heels. I was so excited I snapped a photo (my editorial styling isn't as good as Katie's, but I think I did okay):

I paired purple ultrasuede shoes from Nine West (I wish I had these shoes in a rainbow of colors, they are super-versatile) with a black Banana Republic short-sleeved jacket and a cicada brooch, a recent eBay find (I only enjoy bugs when they're made of Swarovski crystals).

Click here and here if you are new to this blog and have no idea why the simple wearing of heels would make me so giddy. As you'll see, this was a hard-won battle.

Carolyn will probably be thrilled to hear this news, but El Stinko is no longer an odorous part of my life. One of the handles broke off in my hand last Friday night, beads spilling all over my living room couch. For $14, I guess I got what I paid for.

Then, on Saturday, Derek rid himself of a t-shirt older than our relationship (circa pre-Y2K), but not without ripping it, Incredible Hulk-style, from his body. Boys.

Hump-Day Hunk: Birthday Edition

This week's Hunk is perennial favorite Shaun El-Abd:

Wait. There's something not quite right about this picture. Hmm.

There! Much better.

Oh, and it may not be ice cream, but this isn't too bad.

It's My Birthday Week*!

I rang in my 28th birthday this past Monday, sharing the day with fellow Geminis Alanis Morrisette (!), Morgan Freeman, and the late Marilyn Monroe. The day itself started out great. I enjoyed the beautiful sunny weather by going for a morning jog, and ended up finding a crumpled $10 bill on the ground on my way home:

Huzzah!

Alas, a Monday birthday means I spent most of the day by myself while Derek was at work, so he took me out to dinner on Saturday night followed by some entertainment provided by three curious blue men, who, despite having no ears, had an incredible sense of rhythm.

This one shook my hand and posed for a photo, but didn't say much. I think his silence may have been due to the no-ears thing.

On Sunday we checked out the SoWa Open Market, a collection of artists, designers, artisans, and antiques dealers selling their goods in a massive parking lot and trolley barn in the South End. Derek found one of those old Roman brushy helmets (does anyone know what these are actually called?), and tried to look Romanesque as I snapped a photo.

Little-known fact: the ancient Romans were die-hard Terriers fans.

Finally, a sort-of early birthday present pour moi: I just started writing a Boston Style and Fashion column for Examiner.com, in which I dispense advice on various matters of style. If you have a style-related dilemma, chances are good I've been there too, so please check it out!

* As a kid, my parents told us that birthdays last for the entire week. Just because I'm now an adult doesn't mean I can't continue the tradition, does it?