This was a very cool weekend, and today I’m celebrating by succumbing to my every 1960’s mod fashion fantasy. Here’s what happened:
Friday: I went out for Japanese with my boyfriend. Does it seem like we go out for Japanese a lot? Because we kind of do. But that because its always fun and delicious, and more exciting than the dining hall.
After that, I met up with friends and went to this thing with a chocolate fountain, and then we ended up leaving campus with a big group of people and going to a…wait for it… Jewish metal party, held in the basement of someone’s shed. Not just held in the shed, held in the basement of said shed. This experience was delightful, not because it was classy or high-quality in ANY way, but because it was so quintessentially bizarre. There was a neon menorah on the wall. There were dudes
flailing in a violent way moshing. There was really shitty beer that was mostly foam. Everyone was wearing their scarves around their face because the dancesturbators moshers were raising so much asbestos-laden dust. But it was definitely interesting, and there was a trampoline, so… not at all a loss.
Saturday, the Jewishness continued, with Shabbos lunch at the home of my professor/advisor. It was all delicious and kosher and I listened in on faculty gossip and learned of many an interdepartmental scuffle while eating challah. He also has an adorable toddler, so that was nice too.
All of which leads me to today! I needed the aforementioned advisor to sign something, so I trundled back to his house at the unholy hour of ten, and then went back to bed and slept til one o’clock to make up my sleep debt from various weekend events. So once I woke up, I sort of decided to temporarily wash my hands of academia (though finals are fast approaching) and just spend the day slacking off and indulging my inner Twiggy. I side-parted my hair, and broke out the liquid-liner for some cat eye action. Add some vintage, a pair of leggings, and loads of mascara, and you have…. a half-pint college girl trying to evoke Twiggy whilst being far too short!
The outfit is not super-visible, thanks to the inherent limitations of Photobooth. What does this tell you? That I really need a tripod for my camera, or a friend willing to waste time taking pictures. But more on that another time.
Clotheswise, I am wearing an outrageous 1970’s blouse that I got at the vintage shop I worked at this summer, The Clothing Warehouse. Its sheer, its polyester, and it has some sort of latticework on it, interspersed with occasional flowers. The collar is slightly popped for disco affect (sorry, 1960’s). However, it is about four sizes too big for me, so I can wear it as a loose shirt dress over my front-seam Zara leggings, bringing us back to Twiggy-ville.
On the jewelry front, we have my oversized, non-functional Mia Farrow watch, a pair of black, lava-rock earrings by Margaret Wiberg, and my ever-present top earring studs and nose ring. The shoes were my Canadienne leather boots, but they barely count, since they aren’t in the picture.
I’m fairly convinced that this was a good way to spend my day. I have no illusions that I will magically grow to Twiggy height, or suddenly acquire her cheekbones, but realistically, I wasn’t going to get any school work done anyway. Much like the Jewish metal party, I conclude that this experiment was not at all a loss.