Tag: fashion

My third Fix arrived, and I would’ve been happy, except I had worn my Frye flats all day, so my pinkie toes were balls o’ burnin’ flame. (Seriously, what do I do about this? I sprinkled anti-chafing powder on my feet about five times throughout the day. Am I wearing the wrong size or something? Size 7s commit foot-murder on me, but I flop around in 7 1/2s like an 8-year-old who’s raided her mom’s closet. I’m committed to finding something I can wear other than flip-flops, but Jesus.)

I opened the box and tore apart the tissue paper. (One thing I’ll say for Stitch Fix is they do it up with the packaging—make it feel like an event.) First thing out of the stack was this little number:

I heard a tiny tick as I lifted it up. On the tile by my feet was one of those brass-looking “buttons”. I figured it was just an extra, you know, like they put in a tiny ziploc on the tag, so you can sew the spare on if one comes off. Because you’re definitely a seamstress.

WHY DO THEY EVEN DO THAT? Everybody knows you’re not gonna sew that button on. Everybody knows you’re gonna put it in a drawer until you move, and then it’ll go in a box labeled Random Crap, which you’ll shove into the attic at your next place, thinking you’ll get back to it at some point. But Some Point never comes. In fact, you move that box six more times over the years, and then when you break your hip, and your ungrateful kids move you to a nursing home, and they dig through six Random Crap boxes looking for swag, they wonder why the fuck you kept an assortment of random buttons and those magnets for ambulance-chasing lawyers that you peel off phone books before you recycle them.

Well, turns out it wasn’t a spare button. It was one of the buttons from the sleeve, and two more of them fell off as I was trying on the shirt. They weren’t sewn on, just pasted, and clearly not that well.

Though the fit didn’t do anything for me—kinda made me look pregnant—I liked the print and maybe would’ve kept it, but hell if I’m gonna hot-glue-gun buttons onto a brand new shirt. Not my job. It went back.

Between the fading pants of the first Fix, and this button-sloughing top, I’m a bit concerned about the quality of items that Stitch Fix selects.

Next up, more skinny pants:

I liked the chocolate color, but these pants were really clingy. I know, they’re skinny jeans—they’re supposed to cling—but they didn’t do anything for my shape. No lifting or supporting in key areas. The look was less slim fit and more defective sausage casing. Sent ’em back.

Moving along:

This filmy tank did not flatter—kinda made me look pregnant. And besides, I already own a hot pink tank top that kinda makes me look pregnant. Bye bye.

One of the nice features of Stitch Fix is you can write notes to your stylists, so last time I had written something like:

My friend Kate, who knows about these things, says I should try to incorporate some ‘statement jewelry’. Not that I know what that means, but she has a pair of earrings that are 2-inch white owls, so maybe that? I don’t do bracelets but can work on wearing earrings, necklaces, barrettes, scarves, and belts.

And they sent me these:

To their credit, they probably wouldn’t have made me look pregnant, but they’re not statement jewelry. They’re, at best, crappy mall kiosk jewelry. Back they went.

Was it to be a complete bust?! Was I going to send the whole enchilada back?!

No, once again, a dress came to the rescue:

Goddammit with the dresses though. Would my poor, poor inner thighs survive?

WELL, on the recommendation of a couple readers, I had ordered three pairs of Bandelettes—lacy, garter-like whoozeewhatsits—that are supposed to preclude chafing… and they did! Rubbery strips on the inside keep them in place, so though the lace pilled a bit, I ended the day with nary a hot spot. (And if my thighs weren’t 28″ in circumference and riddled with cellulite, they’d probably be sexy.)

And for #ThrowbackThursday: The stuff bucket I purchased 20 months ago is dying a painful death. Or at least the handles are.

I wonder if Stitch Fix does purses…

Stay tuned for future Fixes!

And if you want to try Stitch Fix yourself, please use this link because they’ll give me a $25 credit, and in return I’ll give you an internet high-five or smooch, your choice. 

______________________

Like Avid Bruxist on Facebook.
Follow Avid Bruxist on Twitter.

Read my other stuff at Fat CrossFitter and Baby Happy Pants.

Weird. Found myself actually kinda looking forward to receiving my second shipment from Stitch Fix. Who is I, and what even where happening? Hold me. I’m cold.

But before we get into that, let’s talk about me trying to Make Fashion and achieving a victory, a semi-victory, and a decided non-victory. First the victory:

I sent this picture to Kate. “How am I doing? Too much grey?” I asked.

She said, “You’re doing it!” and went on to praise the “pop of color” and “elongated foot line” of my shoesies. Sure! I meant to do that! Fayshun!

The flats were $$$$, and they still rendered my feet meaty nubs, but I’m going to keep wearing them because $$$$.

The semi-victory:

To my credit, I knew it didn’t work. I just couldn’t articulate why. (I mean, aside from the flip-flops–I had to give my feet a day off to regrow their epidermis.) Kate said the shirt’s elastic waist doesn’t do me any favors–“hits and blouses at the wrong spot”–and the tank throws off the proportions even further. I don’t know what any of that means, but she does, and that’s what’s important here.

To the Fix!:

This blouse has weird shoulders, but I don’t own much print stuff, so I kept it. The pants are super comfy, and unlike the last Fix’s, they’ve held up in the wash. I still think my lower half looks like an ice cream cone in skinny pants, but maybe the frozen dessert treat look is fashionable?

These flats too left red burny spots on my feet, but I like ’em. Gonna make ’em like me, if I have to use crutches to do it.

This filmy tunic is an awful lot like another filmy tunic I bought awhile back on oldnavy.com clearance, and both are meh. I would’ve returned it and the earrings in the next photo, except with the Buy Five discount it would’ve saved me only eight bucks. I’ll find somebody who wants the shirt.

Last thing:

Kate: “Daaaaaamn, son! Put on some sexy times shoes and bring allllll the boys to the yard!”

I guess what she’s saying is that my Tom’s flats won’t cut it here, but I feel like I should get points for wearing something other than flip-flops.

As a general rule, I don’t wear dresses. The chubrub is real and painful, even when I lube up my inner thighs and lube ’em up good, but I wore spandex shorts under this, and they precluded any fires in my nether regions.

Plus, one of my (male) sixth graders said, sort of matter-of-factly, “I thought you were going to a royal ball when I saw you in that dress.”

Stay tuned for future Fixes!

And if you want to try Stitch Fix yourself, please use this link because they’ll give me a $25 credit, and in return I’ll give you an internet high-five or smooch, your choice. Thanks to the readers who already did this! You contributed to the bringing of boys to the yard!

______________________

Like Avid Bruxist on Facebook.
Follow Avid Bruxist on Twitter.

Read my other stuff at Fat CrossFitter and Baby Happy Pants.

First, my style guru had the audacity to move to D.C. two years ago to be with the love of her life. Then came the babies, and I’m not saying I had kids specifically so I’d have an excuse never to go clothes shopping, but it’s a side benefit, for sure.

Lo, it seemed that my desire to be fashionable without putting in any effort was a pipe dream. I was regressing to my daily Old Navy t-shirt habit. Frumpmom was triumphing.

But then women I knew kept posting online about Stitch Fix, a web-based service that shops for you and sends the clothes to your house, and I was all, “GIVEITTOMEIWANTIT.”

I filled in the profile, outlining my style (ha ha, as if), describing my body type (ass so fat that you could see it from the front), and specifying what I wanted/needed for my wardrobe (less special occasion wear, more work clothes).

A crisp package arrived a few weeks later. That weekend, Kate, the aforementioned guru, was visiting from Our Nation’s Capital. “Kate,” I said, and gestured to the box.

“Stitch Fix!” she said.

“Mm-hm,” I said. “Came a couple days ago.”

“You haven’t opened it yet?!”

Sigh. I wish I were a person who delighted in new garb, but it still feels like a chore, and OH MY GOD, I’M AN INSUFFERABLE CITIZEN OF THE FIRST WORLD SORRY SORRY SORRY.

Kate and I sifted through the stuff together to see what I should keep and what I should send back.

First up, a t-shirt, more or less. Not t-shirt material–more knit?–and, like, forty-something dollars, but pretty much a t-shirt.

I liked the color and thought it fit OK, but Kate’s lip curled. “Mullet-hem,” she said.

“Is that bad?” I asked. She said she just didn’t, as a style, love it, and I’ll admit business-in-the-front-party-in-the-back is not the most flattering for my body type.

So why did I keep it? Read on.

[Side note: It’s not lost on me that those jeans suck. They’re too long and just blah, but until the fine folks at Stitch Fix send me some denim, I shall wear them, and you can’t stop me.]

Next up, this dress from Collective Concepts:

Considering my next date night is… lemme check… the 12th of Never, I decided to wear the dress to Meet the Teacher.

My colleagues were like, “Whoa! You clean up nice!” and I did feel good. I wore my wedge heels for an hour and a half without a medical emergency; I finally put to use the statement belt I bought more than two years ago; and I even put on makeup.

I give myself an A+ for effort and some sort of non-failing grade for execution.

Moving along. The stylist really tried with these stretchy petite Margaret M dress pants.

And they’re definitely comfy, but as you can see, they give me elephant knees. Also, since they were too long for capris and too short for actual pants, and who has time to go to the tailor?, I had to DIY a hem job.

Also, after one washing, they were significantly faded. Like, they look like old pants now. They were the most expensive thing in the lot! $98! That’s so many of the dollars! Thumbs down.

[Note: Again, I’m not stupid–I know that utilitarian flip-flops are not the footwear of choice for this outfit, but I can’t wear heels all day, and I have yet to find a pair of flats that doesn’t scrape all the skin off my feet. Suggestions welcome.]

The last two items were this lace-front tank from Paper Moon and Kara hammered coin silver necklace. The shirt has a sheer back (cami required) with a silver zipper. I. love. it.

The necklace is fine (I’m ACCESSORIZING!), but $34?!

In fact, all the items seemed pricey to me, but that’s probably ’cause I wear Gap jeans and Old Navy t-shirts 90% of the time.

I kept the whole shebang because Stitch Fix gives you a 25% discount if you take all five things, and I liked each item just enough to justify 75% of its cost.

But this model of purchasing is unlikely to be sustainable because the bill came to over $200, and that’s a lot to be spending on clothes every month. Or maybe it’s not? How much do you people budget for clothes?

Stay tuned for future Fixes!

(And if you want to try Stitch Fix yourself, please use this link because they’ll give me a $25 credit, and in return I’ll give you an internet high-five or smooch, your choice.)

______________________

Like Avid Bruxist on Facebook.
Follow Avid Bruxist on Twitter.

Read my other stuff at Fat CrossFitter and Baby Happy Pants.