gimme, gimme, gimme a man after midnight

it's new year's eve, kids! now i want everybody to go get schwasted and stumble home at dawn in the highest heels you own (because driving would be irresponsible). see you in 2009!

oh mama, can this really be the end?

the christmas tree's days are numbered and the wrapping paper's officially been stashed away for another year of hibernation, meaning that we're deep in the middle of the last week of the year, the lull between holidays meant for gorging yourself on leftover christmas cookies and watching the best, worst, sexiest, funniest, most outrageous, etc. moments of the past year on television. i usually detest this week, though i suppose it has its merits - downtime and reflection and all that jazz. still, it's just lacking in energy, if you know what i mean.

in the spirit of self-reflection, this week is also prime time for making new year's resolutions, those ubiquitous promises we make to ourselves to become a better, sexier, funnier, more outrageous, etc. person in the new year. the cynic and the optimist in me are have something of a conflict here. i mean sure, today is the first day of the rest of your life and all, but i can't pinpoint any positive aspect of my personality that i can directly trace back to a new year's resolution. but what the hell.. according to charles olson via how i became hettie jones, "what does not change/ is the will to change," and who couldn't use a little bit of self-improvement?

THE USUAL SUSPECTS

i just so happen to be a sloppy, unorganized chick with a huge talent for procrastination. i can go over a month with doing laundry. getting dressed in the morning is nothing less than a scavenger hunt. i've long given up using notebooks and other such nonsense, choosing instead to keep my life in admittedly haphazard files on my mac. and i don't know anyone who spends as many hours awake as i do and gets less done. this all needs to stop in 2009 - immediately.

MONEY MATTERS

remember that scene in breakfast at tiffany's when holly and paul 'fred' varjak are at sing sing and sally tomato's balancing her accounts? if anyone took a peek into my account book - yes, i actually keep one - it would read just as pitifully. this also should probably stop as soon as possible, though it runs right up against my next resolution.

AESTHETIC PLEASURE

chalk it up to watching four seasons of sex and the city during this break, but i'm starting to realize there's no time for convention and no room for rules when it comes to fashion. let the games begin. and while i'm stepping up my sartorial game, i should probably dedicate some attention to my hopelessly bare room up at school. i get all caught up in the decor limitations of the house, and end up not decorating at all. here's to creating a selby-worthy room of one's own.

and speaking of a room of one's own, i want to dedicate more time to writing. the most obvious place for that to start is on this blog. december was a good month for pandora's closet; i promised myself twenty posts, and for once i'm going to meet that requirement. i'm no susie bubble, but i do want to continue to post more often. that said, if anyone has comments or suggestions for the next chapter of pandora's closet, let me know, i'd love to hear it.

what are your new year's resolutions?

ticktock, ya don't stop

picture it. my house, 3am.

insomnia's hitting me hard, and i can tell i'm going to be up for awhile. i figure i might as well browse some spring collections, since back in september, i purposely refrained from keeping tabs on them - i was on this "live in the fashion moment" kick and too busy fleshing out my fall wardrobe.

3:10am: i'm picking out shows at random, lingering on each look and letting impressions really sink in because, well, i have that kind of time. i'm ambivalent about daughters, and phoebe philo, i love you, but i'm kind of digging hannah macgibbon at chloé.

3:30am: i decide to check on he of the cheeky slogan tees and more than a passing resemblance to color me badd's bryan abrams, mr. henry holland himself. laying eyes on agyness deyn in flowered mom jeans, i raise a skeptical eyebrow for all of five seconds before i'm sold. while topshop's been using my childhood fashion templates as runway fodder, house of holland's apparently been dabbling in my childhood fashion aspirations. while i didn't have the artistic ability to sketch floral denim, i can recall talking my mom into buying me a pair, shorts with a high waist and rolled cuffs. this was around the same time i won the battle for a pink blossom hat.

3:37am: long story short, house of holland has got a stronghold on my nostalgia, and i've fallen for it, hook, line, and sinker. i'll look through the collection several times tonight, but not before i settle on look number four, laura biokhina in the sickest pair of jeans i've seen in quite some time: low-slung light denim slashed into a simultaneously sloppy and neat polka-dot pattern. i immediately begin searching for them with all the quickness my high-speed internet will allow.

3:52am: my research reveals that they went on sale at selfridge's in london in september, but i can't seem to find out where they're currently on sale. insomnia and shopping addiction converge dangerously for a moment when i make a complete impulse buy on these re-issued 1966 levi's.

4:00am: and then it hits me. diy. i've had many a diy inspiration, but rarely an execution. but so help me, with this blog as my witness, i'm going to have a pair of polka-dot cutout jeans within the next few weeks. consider it a new year's resolution.

4:05am: i consider using men's jeans for a slouchy fit throughout the leg, but seeing how they sit so well on the model's hips, i realize i need something more fitted. unfortunately, aside from a brief flirtation with flares back in the day, pretty much all of my jeans are form-fitting.

4:10am: then i remember the bottom left drawer of my dresser, filled with unworn clothes that i once thought feasible for some kind of alteration. i pull out a pair of ancient black gap jeans. you know how they used to - or maybe they still do, i don't know - have the tags specifying what kind of cut it is? flare, straight leg, boot cut..? well, this pair says 'reverse' and for the life of me i can't understand why, unless it means they took a good fit and reversed it. it sits high and tight on the waist, is loose around the hips and thighs, and fitted around the lower calf. the leg inexplicably stops above the ankles. i can understand why i packed them away, but trying them on again, i start to think that maybe i could make them work..

4:13am: i tell the pack rat inside me to stop rationalizing. i haven't worn these jeans in the years since i was forced to buy them - i can distinctly remember my vehement protests - and i'm not going to. until i find a better pair, i'm cutting these babies up.

4:20am: back at my computer, i scan the runway image again, cursing style.com for only providing detail shots of certain collections and not others.

4:30am: i'm slowly gravitating towards gojane.com and other shopping sites again, seeking to spend money i don't have. i realize i'm going to have to call it a night, or my bank account won't live to tell the tale.

4:50am: i'm still browsing online stores.

5am: i finally drag myself to bed. it's so quiet in the street that i can hear the five am ferry signaling its departure to all who care to listen. i fall into a fitful sleep, with visions of polka dots and bright leggings dancing in my head.

she's so unusual

if you can imagine the outcome of a love affair between daphne guinness and paris hilton, you've probably met my friend jessica. she's four foot eleven inches of pure eccentricity with a thing for fashion, which jumpstarted a friendship between us the summer after high school. we spent every weekend pounding the downtown pavement in search of thrift and vintage shops, and though we never had much money, we somehow never went home empty-handed. it was great - jessica was my fashion antithesis and half my size, so we'd rarely find ourselves lusting after the same piece. i'd snag the cutest fifties black and white gingham wiggle dress, while she'd fall all over herself for a mid-calf length pink/purple/aqua tulle number that even she couldn't find an appropriate occasion for. i'd always make futile attempts to try and rein in her wild sartorial flings, but i soon realized you can't tell an heiress what to do - the rest of us are just along for the ride.

it's hard to pin jess down style-wise, but a good starting point is all things girlish and bright (see that blue betsey johnson confection of a dress for reference). true to form, the girl's got a major thing for juicy couture, despite all kinds of protests and reasoning to the contrary. but with stores and boutiques - and fashion shows and publications and auto manufacturing plants, etc. - shutting down left and right, jess was starting to get a little worried about the future of her beloved juicy outpost on fifth, until she came up with a backup plan. i'm scouring style.com when jessica says:

"omg, so now that juicy is going downhill, i think it's time for me to move on to bigger and better things.. something more mature.."

intrigued, i ask her what she's gravitating towards. jessica says,

"hellz bellz and married to the mob."

".. hmm."

well, i don't dislike either brand. in fact, i'll admit that it was only a year ago when i perused the mob website, admiring the brazen logo tees and wondering just how i could style them so that the irony shone through, rather than misplaced hoodrat bravado. but then i forgot all about the brand, and i've gotta say, on second glance, i've lost a little bit of that lovin' feeling. now hellz bellz on the other hand.. i haven't checked them out in awhile but i was pleasantly surprised by what i found.

their holiday collection is inspired by mae west, presumably on behalf of her being an original bad ass broad. i was smitten from the start, not least of all because that redhead model in that lumberjack plaid reminds me of some photos of taylor i took almost exactly one year ago. but this jacket has such an interesting shape, i almost want to revisit the trend. in fact, nothing in the collection is especially groundbreaking, but the cut, fit, and details - chains on a simple black satin bomber jacket? okay! - are the real draw. and on a somewhat unrelated note, i love all the eyewear in these shots! unfortunately, they don't seem to be on sale anywhere. so in the end, i had to concede to jess, as usual, and as it turns out, she might not be the only one making hellz bellz part of her wardrobe in the near future.

while we dream by the fire,

MERRY CHRISTMAS, HAPPY HOLIDAYS, AND MUCH LOVE FROM PANDORA'S CLOSET TO ONE AND ALL.

exaccctly.

i'm obsessed with this video. finally, someone understands how i feel. thanks, sara.

baby did a bad, bad thing

picture it. herald square, tuesday afternoon, the day before christmas eve.

the streets are teeming with tired shoppers. at macy's, the halls are decked and the aisles are packed, but i've chosen to focus our efforts here in the sprawl because i happen to have a macy's card and everything in the store is perpetually on sale. josie and i are armed with nothing but a little bit of plastic and a mission: finish christmas shopping without making any personal purchases. in the hours to come, josie will succeed in this mission while i fail miserably.

the damages: ralph lauren cashmere scarf (my dad's was so gorgeous and soft to the touch, i couldn't resist getting one for myself), victoria's secret pajamas, one pair of cream and brown wayfarer II's.

i never stood a chance. while we ran in circles looking for gifts, i kept spying this swoon-worthy pair of wayfarers that elicited all sorts of happy images in my brain.. old school cadillacs and road trips on route 66, and you all know how i feel about a good vintage vibe. i remarked in jest that if i ever got through my christmas list, i'd celebrate with those shades. hours later, i did just that. it was an absolutely unnecessary purchase, and i'm now an officially incorrigible consumer whore, but since the goods are already in my possession, let's bask for a minute in the glory and delight of these shades, shall we?

and that's that. now it's no sleep 'til brooklyn for me, as i'm off to spend christmas eve with family and open gifts at the stroke of midnight. have a safe and happy holiday!

OBAMA IS THE NEW DENZEL

via wwtdd

just sayin'.

i was tagged over at j'adore fashion to list seven personal details about myself so that readers can get to know me better. i'm pretty down with this tag because aside from the fact that i like fashion and all things vintage and wear black all the time, i'm starting to think it might be pretty easy to see me as a sort of one-trick pony, y'know? so without further ado, seven (basic) personal details about yours truly.

one// i was born and raised on staten island, new york.

if this draws a blank look from you, i don't blame you. if this draws a look of disdain from you, i still don't blame you. it's the fifth borough - they aren't actually numbered, but trust me, if they did, staten island would come in last. it's the least populated, least diverse (mostly italian), most suburban, and majorly lacking in cool points. i went to high school with hundreds of overly tanned, thickly accented girls with a penchant for acrylic nails, north face jackets, coach bags, nameplates and velour. most of their middle names were marie. the good news is, not only did i make it out unscathed with some great friends, i managed to retain a modicum of good taste, too. luckily for me, i'm a north shore resident, which is home to its own scrappy brand of indie cool, though it has yet to take up the hipster torch. i think the scene is improving, though, and i have dreams of coming back one day and revolutionizing the island, nightlife hotspot by nightlife hotspot. until then, you can find me on the ferry, making my way to manhattan.

deux// i spent fifteen years in catholic school. in uniform.

and i don't have nearly as many complexes as people expect me to because of it. despite my decidedly staten island high school experience, i generally enjoyed all of my pre-college education. i never got whacked over the knuckles with a ruler, and i can count on one hand how many nuns i've had as teachers. i don't even have that much catholic guilt - go figure. i will admit to one side effect of the experience: no matter how good some people look in jumpers or pleated plaid skirts, i just can't bring myself to try the trend. it just feels too like business as usual. been there, done that.

tre// i'm a junior at harvard majoring in english.

english and american literature and language, to be precise. i'm considering minoring in studies of women, gender, and sexuality, and over the summer i wrapped up my language citation in french (hah. i still get anxiety over formulating a sentence). before that i tried out a ton of other things, including social anthropology (eh) and economics (ugh). come to think of it, i have a penchant for doing things not according to plan. before harvard, i was dead-set on going to columbia and nyu was a close second. acceptance to the three schools was a clusterfuck the likes of which i haven't seen since, but when the smoke cleared, i was at the big h. it's quite an experience being here - i can't think of anywhere else where you have to navigate through throngs of tourists to get to class - and it stresses me out/drives me crazy at times, but i get by with a little help from my friends.

quattro// i'm terribly shy. except for those times when i'm not.

i've always been "painfully shy," as mamdukes likes to put it, but when i was little i had the weirdest habit of crying when showing up to a party with lots of strangers, for instance, but then crying at the end of the party because i'd gotten used to everyone and didn't want to leave. in the sixth grade, i made a concerted effort at learning to be more outgoing, and succeeded for all intents and purposes, but there's still no rhyme or reason to when i'll be a walflower or a chatty cathy. and being drunk has nothing to do with it - i don't drink.

cinco// i'm prone to obsessing over random things.

here's how it usually goes: something mildly interesting catches my eye (or ear). i think, 'whoa! why haven't i devoted inordinate amounts of time and effort to becoming an expert on this before?!' then i hunt down all kinds of related media and immerse myself in said topic. this has happened with: andy warhol, flappers, disney, assassins, lsd, astral projection, nancy drew, the sixties, fashion, charles manson, breakdancing, the fifties, elephants, bob dylan, vampires, the eighties, barbie, basquiat, the merry pranksters, vogue, las vegas, skateboarding, coco chanel, the olympics, the beatles, the bible, hippies, billie holiday, paris, hip hop, urban legends, audrey hepburn, the weather underground.. the list goes on. some topics have become lifelong interests, while others have faded into obscurity, but ask me sometime what my obsession du jour is, and i'll always be glad to spit some knowledge.

šest// i'm not very photogenic.

i don't know exactly what it is that makes some people come out fantastically in pictures all the time, but i can say without a doubt that i don't have it. i work hard to look presentable on film, and on this blog for that matter. that said, i've developed a sort of affinity for my ever-growing collection of quirky photos. find me on facebook and you'll see a ton of them. i don't believe in untagging.

sieben// i enjoy laughter more than shoes.

and that's saying a lot. make me laugh, and i'll be your best friend. seriously, that's pretty much all it takes.

i hope you all feel better acquainted with me now.. it was good for me, was it good for you? good. as always, i'm going to break the rules and open this tag up to anyone who would like to share a bit of themselves with the blogosphere.

andddd i'm out.

private eyes, they're watching you

via thecobrasnake

it's good to know that mr. west is upholding the tradition of promoting impossibly unreasonable eyewear.

my late night visit to thecobrasnake ended in a purchase at thecobrashop - twenty dollar sale, couldn't resist. i ended up snagging this rad jacket, lest anyone doubt my newfound devotion to the eighties.

maybe today i'll actually get some shopping done for other people..

cue the synthesizer

i'd say my fashion design aspirations began at about the age of.. nine? mama bear bought me something called the crayola fashion design studio for christmas, complete with a portable drawing desk with light, stencils, colored pencils, tracing paper, a texture board, fashion templates, and stickers. it was great - you could pair an acid wash denim jacket (scrunched sleeves, of course) with a triple-tier flouncy miniskirt, and top it off with some two-inch pointed toe pumps. then you could choose the face you wanted to trace on.. maybe the girl with the side ponytail secured by a big triple-tier scrunchie, the one with the bright eyes, pouty lips and dangly earrings? and finally, you could stick on some extra accessories and go to town with the colored pencils.

i stayed inside the lines for awhile, but my refined young palate quickly decided that all of the looks were just too passé for me. i mean, we were approaching 1998 here! i simply could not be dealing with this fluffy, frilly, geometric-patterned, shoulder-padded nonsense. i tossed the templates aside and immediately began sketching my very own spice girls-inspired, clueless-infused ensembles. i never looked back.

..or i guess i did. it's no secret that i now revel in the fineries of eras gone by. in fact, topshop's spring09 collection, which is practically every single one of my crayola fashion design studio templates come to life, is one of my season favorites. there's no pretense involved, just pure fun, chock full o' eighties, and so help me, this eternally black-clad, doc-rocking girl wants to get in on this pastel party. toss me my white jeans and pumps, would you? the rompers are already in the suitcase and there's some mirrored shades over there.. if you'll just tear up that old shirt, i'll be able to tie up this rat's nest - you're a doll. i'm off to london, it's going to be a cruel summer.

a '54 convertible too, light blue

dear santa,

i'm trying.

i went out christmas shopping today with the best of intentions, and managed to cross three people off my list! but i bought two dresses for myself, so i guess i need to work on that whole selfless spiel.


and then one of them was a perfectly respectable blue sweaterdress-type thing, but then the other one was this little number, which i'm sure you think is downright tarty, but it's just the style, you know? i'm growing up, and sometimes a girl just needs to look hot - don't judge me. anyway, this dress made me think of the girls in the video for poison - you know, bbd, "never trust a big butt and smile"? so i was dancing around to vapors, fight the power.. things of that ilk, trying to catch that whole vibe, and then my flash started going crazy and making these ghostly photos.. kind of like i was the ghost of hop hop past! anyway, what i'm trying to say is, don't write me off your list, okay? next time i go christmas shopping, it's gonna be all about giving to others. promise.

sincerely,
me

(kind of) free at last..

friday's house formal was a lot of fun, thanks for all the well wishes! turns out more than a few girls were wearing floor-length dresses, but i had a ball kicking up my heels with a short hemline anyway. once those festivities drew to a close, i cranked out my final colonial american lit paper, fifteen pages on propaganda and the commodification of race in virginia. then i began packing as my mom was due to pick me up to go home for christmas break. i'm back in new york now, with a very special addition to the family..





angrily asking me to bring the photo shoot to an end..
meet dylan! he's an eight week-old domestic shorthair and the new love of my life! he kept me up all night crying for attention, so hopefully tonight will be a bit better, since i still haven't recovered from my sleepless night..

no need for formalities

tonight is my house's winter formal. with the way my workload's been lately, i'm sorry to say that i'm not even that excited; at this point, it just seems like another thing on my to-do list. despite my dry bank account and severe lack of time, i'd tried to make it work, so to speak, in as short a time as possible. i was drawn to comfort colors, grey and navy, in a major way. i opted for simple gray flats, because hobbling around in sky-high heels all night requires a little more dedication than i've got to spare tonight. i feel so comfortable in this, i wonder if i'll look utterly casual to the rest of my housemates.

tell me about the sunsets in sweden and the laws of eden

here at pandora's closet, i feel like i can't talk the talk without walking the walk, so after all my gushing the other day, i knew when i opened up my closet this morning that i needed some knits in my life. this sweater dress did the trick, though it was more humid and rainy than bitterly cold today, hence the bare legs. baller points to anyone who can guess the inspiration for my poses (the link is not quite so much a hint as just a word i chose to link to the song of the day).

as of this writing, i've worked my way back to early april, diligently checking out and commenting on everyone's blogs who have ever commented me. oh, and you can now follow my blog with bloglovin´ if you wish. i'm sloooowly getting on top of this blogging thing..

baby, you'll freeze out there

first and foremost, vampire weekend and black kids were indescribably amazing, so i won't even try to. if i figure out how to post a video, i will, but until then i will say that their cover of this song was so divine that my roommates haven't played anything else for the past twenty-four hours.

it was a long time coming, but winter is finally here with a vengeance - stinging winds, numb extremities, and all that jazz - and i can't say i'm pleased. i'm writing from underneath piles of blankets, waiting to regain feeling in my fingers, and though they're functional enough to flip the light switch, i simply can't believe that it's already so dark outside. i've never spent a winter further south than new york, and yet i've always suffered from a profound sense of bewilderment and unpreparedness when the cold weather rolls in. i just can never wrap my head around the concept of bundling up, when all i ever want to do is frolic cutoff-clad in the sunshine. but i figure now's as good a time as any to start stockpiling winter gear, especially since as if it weren't bad enough here, the roommates and i are talking about heading up to montreal for our winter break at the end of january.



notice a pattern? the other day while badgering cameron about what he wants for christmas, he answered (in true cameron form) techie-type gadgets, to which i replied that i wanted to give him something.. warmer. for clarification, i tried to explain that cold weather and the christmas season make me think of warm, cozy fires (a completely idyllic projection since i've never had a fireplace), hot chocolate, and fuzzy fabrics. call me old-fashioned, but a very small part of me actually wants to experiment with winter florals (unless it's those earwarmers on the left) and lacy details when the winter winds come a-howling. deep down, all i want to do is burrow into wooly knits, supple leather, plaids and flannels. i actually told cameron that i wanted to get him a "wool-and-leather-type gift," though i'm sure he had no clue what i was talking about. and since i can't readily conjure up a knitting whiz in my circle of close friends, i'm taking my search to the marketplace. yokoo's etsy shop is an absolute dream, but with scarves priced upwards of $50, i'll probably search for a cheaper alternative until i have some christmas money in hand - too busy trying to stretch my cash out as long as my gift list. on the other hand, that minnie bow at right, is probably going to be bought within the next couple of days. i'm in love. oh, and under armour - so necessary.

and now i begin to pick up my major slack in the commenting back arena.. i'm coming to your blog, kids, and i'm reading posts and leaving comments, too.

i've had dreams of boston all of my life

a false statement, but a fitting one, nevertheless, as i'm finally going to see vampire weekend (with the black kids) in concert tonight. back in june, they played for free in central park (with kid sister of all people!), but i was flying out to paris that morning. crestfallen in the city of lights, i learned that they were playing in paris during my time there, but as a part of a multi-day concert festival, my class schedule conflicted with that show, too. but after chasing them around the world, at last our schedules coincide! actually, not so much - i should probably be studying for my exam tomorrow, but hey, you only live once, right? right.

the lovely marina of still better and worse has tagged me to name six unimportant things that make me happy. i wrote them into a little piece about one fine day when i'm done with school and, if only for a little while, able to relax and enjoy life as it comes.

half past something and eyelids flutter open of their own volition, she hasn't yet bothered to acquire a clock and for the first time in years it doesn't matter. high ceilings and wide windows project boundless light onto pieces of yesterday strewn across hardwood, folded up in newsprint and hidden within envelopes. in a far corner, cedar contours on a pristine guitar quiver unsteadily, propped up against a stack of boxes. willing it from her bed to stay standing, she muses that perhaps today she'll finally learn a chord or two.

gathering her slim stack of mail from the floor, she tosses aside official-looking envelopes in favor of a postcard from overseas, thumbing the glossy side while rereading its short, sweet message. extracting the fashion & style section from the times, she notes that cathy's discerning eye is sharp as ever, but in need of something sentimental, she focuses on the modern love column. squinting in the sunlight, she absentmindedly plucks a pair of shades off her nightstand and sits them atop her nose. catching a glimpse of herself in the antique mirror on the wall, the haute/bas wayfarer and bed head look prompts a chuckle. the sun's momentarily gone behind a cloud and she transfers the sunglasses onto her stuffed bedfellow's snout, shielding its button eyes from what may come.

p.s.: as always, the tag is open to anyone and everyone!

breakin' my back but it's all good

not gonna lie, the heels stayed on for all of five minutes before i remembered i'm in cambridge, where the cobblestone will ruin your shoes if you're foolish enough to wear them out.

i'm about to be start some hardcore paper writing (representations of race in colonial american literature - hot), effective once this post gets published, but once i'm done with that, i'm going to do some blog upkeep, so if you've ever dropped me a line, a belated reply is on its way.

A Knock Off the Old Block

[hey guys - so upon a more thorough perusal of the article that went to print for prim. magazine, i realized that large chunks of information are missing in some places and some sentences have been edited to the point that they're unclear and/or awkward sounding, so here's what the article should have looked like, posted below.]

They're not hard to find if you know where to look: on Manhattan's street corners and busiest thoroughfares, often in the vicinity of fanny pack-toting tourists. You'll find them on display, or sometimes tucked away beneath a bulky tarp, vendors suggesting in a tight-lipped murmur that you take a look at their wares. They present a compelling bargain: quilted Chanel totes, Dolce&Gabbana shades, Balenciaga motorcycle bags, and a seemingly endless assortment of luxury goods, all to be had at a sliver of their usual prices. Granted, the products aren't actually manufactured by the fashion houses whose logos they boast and the quality of the merchandise is questionable, but it's still a tempting offer at first glance. A second glance, however, will reveal that if something seems too good to be true, then it probably is. Counterfeiting - in all its forms, and not just that of luxury goods - has been estimated to cost the city $1 billion a year in unpaid taxes, and its profits are often linked to organized crime.

New York police have long been engaged in an active campaign to quell the deluge of fakes, and though you can't do jail time for snagging a faux Louis Vuitton, they are encouraging the public to direct their money away from supporting such dubious enterprises. Unfortunately for designers, Canal Street-style counterfeiting and its clear-cut parameters and consequences are anomalies in the world of knockoffs. Replace city street commotion with an air-conditioned mall, and even if the fakes are just as egregiously copied from the runway, it's a rare occasion when designers have the unmitigated support of the law on their side. If a well-established retailer like Forever 21 turns out a reworked Fendi clutch or Mayle dress, the onus of protecting creative intelligence often falls upon the designer and not the government, as fashion design has yet to enjoy the protection of copyright laws. The Bush administration was once staunchly opposed to a bill guarding intellectual property, claiming that it would create "unnecessary bureaucracy." Displaying an apparent change of heart, the president recently signed the Prioritizing Resources and Organization for Intellectual Property (PRO IP) Act, "a bill to enhance remedies for violations of intellectual property laws." While its stipulations include an appointed enforcement official and greater consequences for violators, the act's direct effects on the fashion industry remain to be seen.

But where police commissioners and city comptrollers bow out, industry watchdog blog Fashionista steps in, with plenty of posts dedicated to outing knockoff purveyors, including a popular feature called Adventures in Copyright. The blog's anti-knockoff stance has drawn both supporters and detractors, while shedding light on just how subjective the entire debate is. Some visitors to the site are offended by Fashionista's "pretentious" and "sanctimonious" disdain for knockoffs, calling attention to their hypocrisy in "fawning over Zara and J.Crew's Balenciaga blazer knockoffs" and instructing readers on how to create Prada-like earrings, while simultaneously bashing Forever 21 for bringing runway style to the masses. Where exactly is this thin line between inspiration and knockoff?

ABS founder and design director Allen B. Schwartz has said, "There is no such thing as an original design.... To me a spaghetti strap is a spaghetti strap, and a cowl neck is a cowl neck." His viewpoint serves his own purposes well, considering that ABS has long been the go-to brand for affordable versions of the red carpet gowns worn by celebrities on Oscar night. But these sentiments also ring true for the average consumer, who isn't necessarily willing to make a research project out of each personal shopping trip, and therefore may not be able to determine whether or not the A-line shift she's bringing to the fitting room has been copied from another designer. The government appears to be similarly perplexed by the question of inspiration versus copying, with the U.S. Copyright Office stating in 2006 that it "does not yet have sufficient information to make any judgment whether fashion design legislation is desirable." Even so, timing is everything. Maybe designers can't stake a claim to a particular garment feature, but the success of labels like ABS and ASOS - which stands for As Seen On Stars - is grounded in their ability to produce a knockoff quickly after a design originator has created something new. In other words, Allen B. Schwartz isn't going to try out spaghetti straps or cowl necks in any season unless Valentino or Christian Lacroix has done it first.

Though many shoppers might purchase knockoffs unwittingly, there's a growing number of consumers who, as fashion becomes increasingly visible and accessible, prowl their local stores in hot pursuit of them. High prices combined with ever-changing trends leave several fashion-forward girls with practically no other choice. New York City's anti-counterfeiting campaign warns that buyers' money is funneled towards criminal activity, but what can prevent fast fashion's worldwide consumer base from acquiring knockoffs? Since knockoff profits don't fund corruption in the same way that counterfeits do, it's principally the original designers' profits who stand to suffer. Or does it? If Topshop and Forever 21 stopped copying runway looks tomorrow, would Marc Jacobs' profits see a significant jump? Probably not. With such drastically different price points, it's not likely that someone who buys knockoffs can easily make the leap to high-priced designer apparel.

The artistic value of original design remains a worthy knockoff opponent. For the time and effort that goes into creating and showcasing the looks seen during fashion week, in magazine spreads, and draped upon the lithe bodies of Hollywood starlets, a cheap, poorly-made imitation hanging limp on a store hanger amounts to nothing less than piracy. Unfortunately, the designers whose artistic merit we seek to uphold and protect are not always above such acts of plagiarism. Earlier this year, Marc Jacobs paid an undisclosed amount to Gösta Oloffson's son Göran, who discovered that Jacobs had blatantly copied his father's 1950's scarf design depicting the Swedish county of Härjedalen, simply replacing the original red script logo with his own name. A tipster informed Fashionista that a handbag used in Anna Sui's Fall 2008 Ready-To-Wear show appears to be an exact replica of a vintage piece. Designers like Zac Posen and Diane von Furstenburg went to Washington, D.C. in 2006 to argue for a three-year protection staute on fashion design. If this statute were to come to fruition, vintage pieces would be fair game for copying. Yet until then, when Anna Sui sues Forever 21 for ripping off her work, her own apparent lack of artistic integrity makes her claim a bit hard to take seriously.

One of the most valid arguments against knockoffs and counterfeits may be that of sweatshop and child labor. Counterfeit goods are almost exclusively manufactured in unsafe and unregulated conditions, and for retail chains to churn out runway rip-offs while the current trend is still hot, retailers sometimes resort to quick and dirty methods of manufacture as well. Sadly, buying well-made, higher-priced goods does not erase the possibility of sweatshop labor. Several high-profile fashion houses including Gucci and Prada have come under fire for outsourcing work to companies where illegal immigrants work for less than minimum wage.

And with that, the wildly indignant protests of designers are lowered to a muddled and grumbling din. At its core, the fashion industry is built on a foundation of business, and the supposedly vast gap between original design and lowly knockoff is, in reality, not all that large, and a guilt-free buy is hard to find. Curiously enough, some theorists have proposed that knockoffs serve the unexpected purpose of pushing the envelope and enabling design originators to increase innovation. After all, hackneyed trends die quickest, leaving it up to designers to create the "next big thing" each season, further affirming their collective status as tastemakers and arbiters of style. Fueling the creative process by generating a desire for something new, the knockoff - for better or worse - has acquired its very own position in the fashion hierarchy.

[kudos if you can guess which labels the items in each of the above images are knocking off!]

look at the sun, sinking like a ship

the sad truth is, when the nights are long and the days are busy, i can't be bothered to experiment with color.. or anything else for that matter.

i'm reading the scum manifesto which make me think of andy warhol which makes me think of popism where lesbians hold each other close at a party and dance to this song.

my foray into the shiny world of sequins continues with this edun tank via gilt groupe. gilt is such an apt moniker for that site, no? i usually feel just so once i've purchased something from there. at least i can feel good about its sustainable fabric and manufacturing.

POSTSCRIPT, HOLD THE PHONE: my article is now out in prim magazine - they edited it quite heavily for length, but it's there nevertheless! page 23, kids! i'll post the full version of the article tomorrow..

numbers twelve and thirty-five

the forecast called for rain and temperatures upwards of sixty degrees. i tried to dress appropriately. of course it didn't begin to rain until after i had traipsed about campus in rain boots for eight hours.. long day.

for a pre-new year's resolution, i'm going to try and post a bit more on this blog.. what say, minimum twenty posts in thirty-one days of december? crazy talk, i know, but we'll see how it turns out.