Results tagged “fashion” from Overlooked

The list of endangered species is growing, and--as we all know--it is becoming harder (and harder) to get your hands on a good, rare bird. There is a solution to this problem. Although my bird smuggling experience has not spanned seas, I have fallen upon an object that facilitates avian obtainment--and since I love to help my fellow criminal--I've decided to pass my knowledge of this object along to you.

You will succeed in your plight of bird entrapment, but please do not disclose your successes to me. What you wish to do with an endangered animal is not for me to know; my only concern is that you get it. I do not wish to read about your plans of trick teaching, and I do not want a copy of your famous Goosepacho recipe--no matter how yummy it is. Just take the advice below, and you'll have your Goose before you can whisper "bump it."

The "Bumpit"--n. a plastic hairpiece, not to be confused with pump it: to amp up the volume, e.g. "pump it up!"; bump (1): to accidentally hit someone; or bump (2): a soon-to-be celebrity child--was created for style, but soon became the smuggler's golden (or nude-ish colored) ticket. The Bumpit's extended, half-moon shaped band allows you to create a large space between hair and Bumpit, cradling the bird within. A middle head position will provide a front hair mass to sweep over both Bumpit and bird--this will allow you to sneak past any airway security, or zoo personnel.

How you will appear to others.

An Inside View.

I understand that the above bird looks a little anxious. If you are fearful of a bird squawking giveaway, simply slip a tranquilizer in their feeding time crackers, and you're good to go. They'll stay nestled in your Bumpit hair-cave, and you'll get away with your bird-loot. "But is it stylish?", you ask. The Bumpit looks great on all types of hair, and all types of Janes--it's not just for glamorous models. Watch the video below to see how Big Happie Hair can contribute positively to your image, your self-esteem, and your animal heist.

If all goes according to plan, I will make an overly dramatic exit on a holiday--or other day of significance--and ruin it for everybody; then I will resurrect on Halloween--like any proper ghost, ghoul, or member of the undead clan--to scare the bejesus out of little children. But--save for the maggots crawling out of my ears and nostrils--I want to look good when I pull myself out of the grave.

What is the first thing someone sees when you rise from the dead? Your coffin. The coffin is your way of making a first impression, and I want mine to bear upon the urethra. It may also detract attention from the creatures living in my portas--I am sure they will want their privacy. Personally, I think the conception of Creative Coffins is genius.

The makers of Creative Coffins understand that rising from the dead is not a trivial dealing, and that a recurring coffin is like a recurring Minnie Mouse costume: tired and boring. This may be an issue when your coffin is built to last, but not when it is cardboard chic, like all Creative Coffins are--and like each one of my future coffins will be. Now that Creative Coffins are around, each year I will be able to rise with a trendier, scarier, more shocking piece.

Hey, maybe I'll even achieve posthumous fame--another reason why a Salem's lot box just won't do. I am all about rotting with my coffin--not just inside it.

Here's one: at the end of this past September, I had a crystal clear vision of yet another hipster fashion trend to come: saddle shoes. However, because I am lazy (or is it just typical hipster indifference?), my prediction post went unwritten, and according to Hard Liquor, Soft Holes, it seems I have been scooped. Curses!

(Just so you know, I was hep to this groove, man--and I had a timestamp to prove it. Now I'm the last one to leave the party, just like Pauly Shore.)

However, despite my tardiness, I still maintain that over the coming months, saddle shoes will become even more prominent in hipster populations. First and foremost, there is the huge (huge!!) nostalgia factor--everything old is new again (see: USB mixtapes, Tim Burton's Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, Reebok high tops). For those of us who weren't lucky enough to have them the first time around, owning saddle shoes as an adult can be perceived as ironic (though is that in the standard way or the Alanis Morrissette way? I can never tell): this particular footwear epitomizes youth culture--not only in the classic 1950s, rosy-cheeked, sock hop sort of way, but also in the more accessible "the identical twins in my fifth grade class each had a pair of these but I never did and I was SO. JEALOUS." way that is so very integral to hipsterdom today.

On a more practical level, however, saddle shoes are totally the perfect accessory to your (sub)urban lifestyle. Not only does their supple and durable leather mean that you're completely protected from even the most perilous of PBR spills, but you're also ready to take it to the bowling alley at any given moment (even if it's only the Wii version). And finally, what better way to concretize that old-tymey spirit than with a shoe that is so comfortable, you'll be able to trudge through waist-deep snow, uphill both ways--at the peril of being consumed by brontosauri and T. rexes--just to get to school and earn that education!

So, all you hipsters, because I'm late on this one, the next time I go tromping about the Burg, I expect that you'll all be decked out in your finest saddle shoes and I'll do some recruiting for my new gang. But you'd better get your applications in early because word on the street is we're getting Members Only jackets next year. You heard it here first.

The crowd is growing restless as we wait on these models from the sample site showdown between Gilt.com, RueLaLa.com and the latest newcomer ideeli.com.  Gilt, the current holder of the Golden Diet Coke Can, is defending her title. She's waif-like, but wiry. We've even heard stories of Gilt eating a whole vegetarian mini-burito by herself in order to beef up for this bout!

RuelaLa is a little confused; sometimes she comes to the ring with a Fendi handbag (great weapon of choice among the modeling community), but lately she has been wearing Puma sneakers and throwing dishes from Villeroy & Boch and WMF cutlery.  We're not sure how she plans to attack the Gilt machine; her mojo is more SmartBargains than Champs Elysées.

And new to the ring today is Ideeli. She's been to Paris. She's heard of Milan. She's in New York.  She's got her Fendi sunglasses for the subway and she's swinging an Yves Saint Laurent handbag today, just gunning for Gilt with hate in her eyes.

Our contestants are in the ring, and the bell sounds.... Get Ready To Rumbbblllllleeeeeee!!!!!

Ideeli comes out of the corner and goes right for RueLaLa, boxing her ears with that Yves Saint Laurent and a Lanvin handbag that seemed to come out of nowhere. Ideeli, in that Dolce & Gabbana sarong, is not up to the same fashion sense as RueLaLa and her Christian Dior shoes, but she is feisty! Gilt looks shocked for not getting the attention and runs at the two rivals pummeling each other with open hand slaps, nails extended.  You can hear that all the way in the nosebleed seats!

Gilt does an amazing double impact bash, windmilling her Badgley Mischka handbag and knocking both of them off their spiky high heels.  They go tumbling, and Ideeli breaks a heel of her Coach shoes.  The girls both look completely enraged, and OMG!  Ideeli breaks off her other heel and throws it at RueLaLa!  RueLaLa is now limping off to her corner for some Diet Coke.

While Ideeli gloats over the departure of RueLaLa, Gilt seizes the opportunity. She leaps and bowls Ideeli over, tearing her sarong.  Ideeli grabs hold of Gilt's See By Chloe jacket and pulls her over, landing on top.  She just threw Gilt's John Varvatos sunglasses into the crowd and they are just clamoring to get a hold of them.  It looks like this might be it for Gilt; she's taking a beating from Ideeli, but wait! RueLaLa just bolted from her corner, tumbling into both of her nemeses - knocking out Ideelie and herself in the collision!

That's it folks, it's over!  Gilt stumbles up and waves her arms high in triumph, bangle bracelets practically falling to her shoulders since her arms are so skinny.  Her trainer just came over with a fresh Botkier handbag and she is beaming from ear to ear over this victory.  Gilt takes home the Golden Diet Coke Can Lightweight title again!

What a fight and good night!

I'm not sure what the kids are up to these days, what with their fancy portable video game consoles and expensive cell phones, but back in my time, we had a calling. And that calling was to be the sole purveyor of addictive confectionary treats that were only available for a few months out of the year.

For one glorious month during first grade, I joined the ranks of those prized citizens known only as the Girl Scouts. It was a whirlwind of badges and after-school meetings and sit-upons. As previously mentioned, I was a shy child (that's right, Steve, I'm calling you out again!), and it was nice to be a part of a social group. However, as was often the case with much of my hypoglycemic childhood, things were about to take a dark turn.

It all started with the stupid dance badge. I was timid and didn't want to dance, and yet I still wanted the badge. Was that too much to ask? Apparently it was, for I never received said badge, a fact which my injured six-year-old self has never forgotten. But this was not incentive enough to quit (though nor was it incentive enough to try harder in manner of countless movies centered around underprivileged youth for whom dance is their only outlet).

No, that incentive came perhaps a week later, following that year's cookie sales. Aimee, one of my fellow Girl Scouts, one of the sisters, made fun of me for only having sold cookies to my family. I'm pretty sure it was that very day that I packed it up and told my mother I didn't want to go back. As a practical and un-soccer-mom-like mother, she had no objections and asked few questions (the cookies were already ordered anyway: her sweet tooth was guaranteed sustenance for at least the next few months).

It is for these very traumatic reasons that I prevent the newest Next Big Thing in hipster fashions: The Girl Scout Sash. I'm sure there are scads and scads of twentysomethings who are still trying to get over their scouting days, and what better way to do that by embracing the very thing that caused you pain in the first place? Furthermore, the Girl Scout Sash is fully customizable: it can be decorated with the normal badges (I can finally have that dancing badge after all!) or with all manner of ironic buttons.

Remember, hipsters: if you can't beat 'em, join 'em!

About the time when girls were bringing Caboodles makeup cases to sleepovers and wearing slap-wrap bracelets, best friends everywhere finally found the perfect avenue with which to express their devotion: the Best Friends Necklace.

Two half-heart pendants that when put together form a single heart, the best friend necklace was the elementary school equivalent of a wedding ring. It bonded you and your best pal for the entirety of that school year (at least!) and it let others know to back off - you were taken. A shy and withdrawn child ever since Steve B. pulled up my skirt in kindergarten while I was handing out snacks to the other students (you hear that, Steve? I'm publicly outing you!!), I in particular felt the sting of not having a best friend with whom to share the necklace, which in my mind was the ultimate declaration of friendship.

Based on my experience, which I'm sure was one shared by many, I would like to state here today my theory for the Next Big Thing in fashion: the resurrection of the Best Friends Necklace. Given the hipster tendency towards irony and the fact that true hipsters are traditionally characterized by a sense of alienation from society, I can see few other more perfect means for them to display not only the omnipresent love of nostalgia, but also, if you were to wear both halves of the necklace at once, the sentiment of being perfectly outside society!

Just remember, when they start selling them at Urban Outfitters, you heard it here first.

Sometimes you come across domain names that give you no idea what type of product will be sold there (I'm looking at you, fogdog.com). Thankfully, that's not the case with bigfurhats.com. Their name is exactly what they sell.