Scrap-Person

When I was little, I had this really weird habit of wanting to be just one “type” of person. A perfectly encapsulated stereotype of a human, 100% of the time found in some movie I liked. And it usually never made sense. Some of the people I remember wanting to be are: a gladiator (guess what film that one was from?), a grease monkey, a glamorous lady, and Alison from Judy Blume’s Just as Long as We’re Together because she was always nice and everyone loved her.

And then I grew up, and nothing changed. Okay, a little changed–I stopped caring about making my personality like people from books and movies (because I’m AWESOME) and mostly wanted to look/dress/have hair like people from books and movies. So I’d go all bananas on one style for a few weeks, then move on to the next one. Bada-bing. But some notable characters stuck out, and so these are the people whose style I steal in some kind of twisted self-scrapbooking way:

Brigitte Bardot

Brigitte is my girl forever. She’s gorgeous, crazy, timeless, and her clothes are un-fucking-real. I love her giant hair and raccoon eyes, but it’s her outfits that go into my WildHearts scrapbook of life.

Candice Swanepoel

Scrapbook element: makeup. After all, if you’re going to have face-paint inspiration, who better than a Victoria’s Secret model?

Ballerinas

They’re the reason I love black tights. Ballet clothes are so pretty and simple and effortless and, sure, look way better on anorexic dancers than the average person, but who said I was average?

Bohemians

I forgot to add “gypsy” to the list of things I really wanted to be when I was little.

I’m bored now. You’re probably bored too! Or, if you’re an American, you’re probably too busy watching your dad blow off his fingers with a firework to read this post.

 

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The New, New Sexy?

There is this really awkward battle that all magazines seem to be waging about what is sexy. Splashed across every Cosmo and Vogue are “sexy secrets” and tips on how to look sexy this season and blah blah blah. That’s good. That’s great! I love sexiness, and advice about how to have more of it is always A-OK with me.

But. I’m just saying, I think somewhere in the past forty years or so, what actually constitutes “sexy” has changed. For the worse. Take a look at this month’s Runner’s World‘s cover girl, for instance.

Now, before you get all up in arms saying that Runner’s isn’t a fashion magazine and isn’t touting sex appeal and you break a key from slamming on your laptop so hard, relax. I fully and totally agree with you, but I am just using that as one of many examples of how the standard of what looks good has changed. The editors at Runner’s picked someone they obviously thought was attractive and had a good, fit body. Similarly, Miss Wintour’s bella counterpart threw Karlie Kloss in her latest edition of Italian Vogue, and she might not have the jogger’s creepy six-pack, but she is one hell of a string bean.

OKAY. So now we have established that people–specifically, media moguls, since most guys I know would still rather date a curvy girl than a stick–today find no-waisted, four-pounds-and-fit girls attractive, but for the love of God, what about the fine felines of the 50s and 60s? What happened to my girl (as ever) Brigitte Bardot? What about everyone’s favorite sexpot, Marilyn Monroe? Betty Grable? Sophia Loren? Anita Ekberg? I mean, I fully admit that I have a total love for all things vintage, and that includes the way-sexier, thirty-thousand-times-more-appealing stars of the past, but come on. Scroll up and look at Ms. String Bean, and then have a gander at BB here. (Ooh, I just realized, it’s KK vs. BB!)

Right? Right. Brigitte (and Marilyn, and Betty and seemingly every other famous lady in the past) had a waist and hips and breasts and didn’t look like you could draw her body by tracing a ruler. If I’m not mistaken, most people don’t find rulers sexy. All I’m saying is that I think Ye Olden Days had a higher class of woman–sexier, better-dressed, and all-around more attractive than the stabby-boned/overly-toned celebrities who are popular now. And I miss it, and fuck all of you, I’m going to wear vintage skirts and Bardot eyeliner until the end of time.

*Disclaimer: 1.) There is nothing wrong with being skinny. I know plenty of girls who are not naturally born with curves and could eat a horse and still be Ruler Girls. Not their fault, and it doesn’t mean they’re ugly. But…I’m just saying, I’d take Brigitte Bardot’s body over theirs any day. 2.) There are plenty of curvy, gorgeous women today, but to be frank, I don’t really trust that 90% of them are REAL in the Age of Implants. To the other 10%, kudos.

Ooh La La, French Beauty Secrets

If you’re a regular reader of this blog, I LOVE YOU! You’re not one of the hundreds of people who found it by Googling “tumblr daddy fuck me” or “lion blowjob girl giving” (two real and horrifying terms people used today, according to WordPress–I don’t know what a lion-blowjob-girl is, nor do I want to). Anyway, what I meant to say is, if you’re a regular reader of this blog, you probably have noticed that I like French things.

Stripy t-shirts, their classic style, their crazy fuck-you-ness, and those bonkers accents–they’re all great things. (Plus, a post about French things is the perfect excuse to throw up some pictures of my girl BB!)

But aside from all that, they also are allegedly some of the most gorgeous people in the free world. In a totally different, eclectic sort of way. Or something. This is all from the Internet machine, people, so if you’ve been to France and they’re all hideous slags don’t get mad at me. But it is a stone-cold, not-just-stuff-I-found-on-Google fact that they are skinnier than everyone else, and that’s usually prettier than being wicked obese, so ha!

Annyyyyhooo, after my extensive researching, I have concluded that other people who write blog posts about French beauty secrets have pretty much come to the same conclusions, so I’m going to steal all their ideas and bundle them up in one giant stellar post of beauté. (Hey, it’s fair–they stole them from the French first.)

  1. Moisturize. Maybe just stick like 5 IVs of fluid in you at all times. Everyone seems to agree that French people are like sponges. They drink a fuckton of water, they toss on moisturizer like nobody’s business, and they like to shower (contrary to my former beliefs that they weren’t too keen on the whole hygiene thing). [Also, I guess they like cold showers and washing your face in cold water, because circulation, and science, and something-or-other?]
  2. Use a lot of creams and magic potions and stuff. This goes back to #1. They’re apparently crazy about their skin, which means they find some super-great face wash and stuff and use that religiously. And then they use lotions and powders for everything fucking else–they even have bosom cream. (Yeah, I didn’t typo that.)
  3. Don’t wear a lot of makeup. And I know you’re thinking, look at BB, but she picked one thing to emphasize–her peepers–and pretty much left the rest be, except for some neutral lipstick. The French aren’t into the whole flawless face thing; they just want it to look sexy and natural without it being obvious you used 18 products to get there. ALLEGEDLY.
  4. Try not to be a big fatso. How, asks the person eating three pints of Ben & Jerry’s as they read this? (Just kidding, that’s me. No, it’s not, it’s you. Shut up, just read!) Apparently part of their staying-thin secret (besides that they walk every-fucking-where and exercise a lot of portion control) is that they are vain as fuck. They want to look like hot French mugs, first, and second, they always dress up everywhere, even to take out their trash. So you don’t really want to blort out when you’re wearing a garter belt and nice clothes, ’cause you feel disgusting. So there. Mrs. Ben & Jerry’s, maybe if you change into a skirt suit, you’ll put the spoon down.
  5. Be a sexy bitch all the time. See #4–they just try and look hot 24-7, unlike us lazy Americans/Brits/Haitians/Russian spies, and trying pays off. Almost anyone can look good if they put effort into their appearance, and the French are way into doing so.

So there you go, now you can look like a gorgeous French lady, with the added bonus of shaved armpits! (I’m just kidding, they apparently do that. Except they wax them instead. So get on their level.)

Every Celebrity I’ve Ever Been Compared to, Ever

Something about my face makes people compare me to other people. I don’t know why, but I get a lot of “you look like blankity-blank” nonsense. Which is usually flattering, but on the rare occasions it hasn’t been I just stare at them while trying really hard to look attractive so that they’ll go, “Oh, you know what, you don’t actually look like [ugly] blank, you look like [super sexy] blank!” And then I will stop holding my face perfectly still and say, “Why thank you.”

My favorite one to get is Brigitte Bardot, for obvious reasons. She’s French, she’s drop-dead gorgeous (which is a really creepy expression, but I love it anyway), and of all the people I’ve been compared to I like her the best. She’s my style icon, to boot (by which I mean, my excuse for wearing lots of cat’s-eye liner and high-wasited things–no one argues when you say, “Well, Brigitte Bardot did it!” And if they do argue they’re a dick).

Plus, we have a lot in common, looks-wise: we both have a squarish jawline (so attractive–but I don’t really mind it, because if Minnie Driver got into movies with that octagon she calls a face than not having a perfect oval head seems a small price to pay for the rest of us), big eyes, big lips, and blonde hair (which I cut, intentionally, with Bardot bangs). And if this all sounds really conceited, fuck off, because if you’re still reading this it was conceited from the first sentence so don’t go getting all shirty about it now. (God, I love calling people shirty. It’s not even an American expression, so whenever I say it to my friends no one understands. But it is GLORIOUS. I hope “pants-y” comes around as a synonym for “uptight tool.”) What was I saying? Oh yeah, how me and BB are incredibly attractive twins–our heights are an inch apart, and if the Internet is to be trusted, she’s a 36B to my 34 (although she looks a bit more equipped in the bazoonga department than that to me, but what am I, a traveling boob expert?).

Long, self-absorbed story short, I like being compared to her because it makes me feel prettyyyy, so pretty, something something something prettyyyyy and gayyyyyy!

But there are other individuals I’ve been compared to, and some of those are less flattering. By a lot. When I was a lot younger (and, I like to think, before my face was fully formed into the glorious object it is today), I got Uma Thurman a lot. I can still, tragically, see why some people might say that, but I haven’t gotten in years. And I once got “Paris Hilton, but without the nose!” Also when I was younger, I got compared to Hilary Duff, but in all fairness that was by a group of black girls at a charter school who rarely saw white people (and that’s not racism, just a statement of fact). I rarely saw black people when I was younger, but since I’m not a dick I didn’t call them all Raven Symone.

Diversity.

Those are all the less-attractive celebrities I’ve been compared to, unless someone said something horrible like Rosie O’Donnell and I blocked it from my memory or something. Besides Brigitte Bardot, I get compared to Scarlett Johannsen sometimes, which is highly complementary but not crazy-accurate (although any time I get bored and do some “celebrity face match” I get her), and Sarah Michelle Gellar (also not accurate, but I love Buffy so I’m okay with it), and once, very misguidedly, Kiera Knightly.

So now the People of the Internet know (kind of) what I look like. And that I am extremely vain and never forget a compliment. Maybe if someone does a face mashup of BriUmParHilarScarSarKie it will look just like me. (Although if you do that, a. You’re creepy, b. You have an extreme amount of time on your hands, and c. Please send it to me.)

The 90s Are Back…With (Scrunchie) Vengeance

So, something horrifying is happening: I’m witnessing the first so-old-it’s-new-again fashion revival of my lifetime.

You know what I mean. Stuff from the 80s has come back in style (read: neon colors, those weird jackets everybody seemed to wear back then, cocaine), and stuff from the 70s (stacked bangle bracelets, resort wear, platform shoes), and obviously a lot of stuff from before then is just classic and will always look good (a hat tip to you, Brigitte Bardot).

And if you’re thinking, well, fuck you, I don’t see anyone walking around wearing neon jackets and platform shoes, you either need to make more fashionable friends or crack a magazine. Also, obviously, the stuff that’s in style now isn’t straight-up out-of-the-80s-can; it’s just stuff that’s clearly influenced by those wacky decades past. Case and point.

Kreayshawn is one 80s-ass bitch.

But all of that stuff is before I was born, for the most part, so I was like, phew! I won’t have to see people walking around in overalls and weird floral prints with giant scrunchies in their wet-styled hair! The 90s won’t come back in style for a looooong time!

I was wrong.

The above picture is from Miu Miu’s Fall/Winter 2011 campaign, and it doesn’t really get more 90s than that. Strong-ass eyebrows, an unflattering coral lipstick, a dress with embroidered flowers and a hint of veleteen-ness, frizz-waved hair, and of course, that quilted bag.

I mean, whatever, fashion is nothing if not cyclical, so I guess the 90s had to rear their ugly head sometime. And I am totally on board with crop-tops and high-waisted stuff. But I swear to Baby Jesus, if I see someone wearing butterfly clips, I’m going to personally rip every single one out of their head.