iFriendship isn't quite as good

Look how much we love each other

Hello, everyone. I've all but abandoned this blog, so I guess this post might come as a bit of a shocker to some of you. The truth is, I don't know where else to write the things running through my mind; the Internet has given us the chance to be heard at the cost of having to outshout millions of others. So here I am, whispering, hoping for catharsis more than accolades.

Have you ever felt lost in your own time? Sickened by the beeping of machines, your friends' glazed smiles on Instagram, the redness in your eyes from too much screen time? I know I have. For days, weeks, months, I'm a content teenager lavishing in all our age has to offer. But then, all of a sudden, I look around and realize that I can't tell if I'm awake, or in some twisted dystopian nightmare.

I know this sounds raving mad (probably). But think about it:

How much time do you spend in the real world?

1. When you like something, do you:
a) Share/like it on Facebook;
b) Tweet about it;
c) Write a blog post about it;
d) Tell someone about it, face to face?

2. When it's someone's birthday, do you:
a) Congratulate them on Facebook;
b) Twitter;
с) Instagram;
d) In real life?

3. When you want to talk to a friend, do you:
a) Message them;
b) Text them;
с) Call them;
d) Meet up with them?

If you got mostly d's on this short and simple test, then allow me to congratulate you: you're a full-time resident of the real world. In all other cases... Well, welcome to the Lonely Cyber club.

What's that, you aren't lonely? You have over a thousand friends on Facebook who regularly like your status updates? Oh, yes, I'm sure they're the kind of friends who would stand by you through thick and thin.

You may think I'm rambling on and on, but I do have a point. I guess I just want to ask this:

In the pursuit of easier ways to connect with each other, did we forget about the inital goal?

Today, we can reach a friend across the planet, visit exotic sites without setting foot on foreign soil, discover people with interests similar to ours, all with the click of a mouse. And yet, somehow, these new technologies seem to have pushed us apart, breaking our unity, instead of bringing us closer together. The mere fact that I'm typing these words instead of ranting aloud to a friend proves this, I guess.

I suppose there isn't much more to say. I just wish we could somehow remember the beauty of laughter and fresh grass under our feet, and actually enjoy the moment instead of rushing off to Instagram it.

Yours,
Alice

This Side of Paradise

I suppose everyone has a certain special book that has acquired the status of their favorite through the years. For me that book is This Side of Paradise by F. Scott Fitzgerald, who is my favorite author to boot, which makes this literary masterpiece twice as important to me.

Now, I know very well about the whole Gatsby boom these days, which naturally has little to do with its value and much, much more to do with the impending movie release with DiCaprio, everyone's old favorite after Titanic. I have no desire to evaluate his talent as an actor (never having seen his work - I haven't watched Titanic to date out of pointless teenage principle) but I hate, hate, HATE the increasing hype. I can just visualise the weeks after the movie release: thousands of hip teenagers facebooking, tweeting, tumbling about their undying love for The Great Gatsby and Fitzgerald, even though they had doubtfully read the book, not to mention anything else by Fitzgerald.

I know I sound like a snob. It's partially intentional because I see no other way to get my thoughts across. I guess I'm just afraid of the typical sequence of events (that at only 17 years of age I've seen numerous times) that had followed anything remotely successful in a sickening vertigo. Let me tell you about this process, and halfway through my explanations you'll be nodding in agreement and finishing my sentences.

(1) The trailer is out, collecting 2374893275 Youtube views. It's passed around via social networks, repeatedly tweeted, discussed and critiqued by both amateurs and professionals. After a few days of this the public is sufficiently warmed up to this new cinematic addition.

(2) The public has from a few months to a year to warm up some more. The movie is taken to Tumblr level, the screenshots discussed, the actors dissected, and, naturally, the smart posers have already started their game by then. Manifestations of love for an author whose work they've never read are quite common at this stage.

(3) THE PREMIERE! HOW FANTASTIC! THE EFFECTS, THE ACTING, THE CLOTHES! LET'S LOVE THIS MOVIE TILL THE END! OMG THE GUY WHO WROTE THE BOOK IS A GENIUS!!!

(4) A few months later, the hype is so fanatic that a small group of fed-up individuals is formed to criticize the movie that everyone loved so much as well as the obsessed fans. The opposition slowly grows, hurling sarcastic and bitter critique along the way.

(5) A year later, the movie is such a drag. What did everyone see in it, anyway? It's cliche to like it now, which is why no fans are left except for the teenyboppers and those too slow to realize it's no longer COOL to like it. So dies the hype.

Maybe now you understand by distrust for a blockbuster based on my favorite author's most popular novel. I don't want something private that I love, a voice that speaks to me no matter what situation I'm in, to get engulfed first in a sea of enthusiastic yet ignorant well-wishers, then in a similar crowd of ignorant antagonists. I can't bear the idea of it.

Perhaps you think I'm just selfish and don't want to be mistaken for someone who only recently acquired an interest for his work. Well, that too.

Anyway, I should probably stop being macabre and wait for the movie. In the meantime, here's a set I made based on This Side of Paradise intended to reflect my vision of Rosalind. She's definitely not my favorite character (I choose Eleanor), but I like her sharp tongue and the way she deviates from the typical debutante. Plus she's daring. In reality, though, my reason for choosing her was her integral role in the book; she's basically the principal female heroine if one has to be chosen.

The set isn't ideally tailored to the 20's, so don't blame me for historical inaccuracy - it's a more modern look with vintage elements influenced by Rosalind's more playful childish side meshed with her love for a luxurious life. The main piece is sort of the way I pictured her famous pink dress, the one she first meets Amory in.

LINK

I suppose that's all for now. I really recommend the novel to anyone who hasn't read it yet - it's brilliant.

'I know myself - but that is all',
Alice

Channeling 'Cry-baby': Wanda Woodward!

"Oh Wanda, you sure is pretty in them tight clothes, all painted up 
like trash! "


Now, I don't know if I've told you this before, but I'm absolutely obsessed with the 1990 movie 'Cry-baby'. But then, I don't think anyone can remain indifferent towards it after watching - the characters are so lively, the music so rockin', and all of the decor and situations so deliciously tacky that, face it - you either love it or hate it.

Now, I tend to analyze everything from a sartorial point, which is why I've decided to attempt to recreate the style of my favourite (or possibly all) the characters from this delightful John Waters classic. (If I'm beginning to sound like a stuck-up movie critic person, that's because in reality, I'm not half as nice as I seem on the Internet. I'm a pretentious asshole. Deal with it.)

My absolute favourite character would certainly be Wanda Woodward. She's basically the epitome of cool: with that constant 'too good for you' bitchface, her slow sultry way of moving around, and her few but remarkable phrases, she's hard to miss. "You wanna learn about America, Inga? In America, we like boys! We like hot boys! Boys with roaming hands and rushing fingers! "


Like some very gifted person once said before (sorry I don't remember who anymore) Wanda's style is basically bad-girl pinup. There are three very significant elements to her style, however, that should be accented: hair, specific clothes and POUT. ALL BEHOLD THE POWER OF THE ALL-MIGHTY WANDA POUT.

Everything depends on how far you're prepared to go, ranging from all-out cosplay/ideal portrayal to a casual interpretation of her style.

First off, if you really want to get that signature Wanda look, you'd better get your hair all voluminous and wild. I'm pretty sure hers is moderately curled in a classic pin-up style, partially ratted, perhaps with a few strands of fake hair. However, this is extreeemely time-consuming (true story from a gal who once spent an hour untangling her hair after ratting it wildly) and damaging to your hair; furthermore, you can't exactly do this every morning if you don't want to spend over an hour on your hair alone. Therefore, I'd suggest just a few spritzes of texturizing spray and - this is reeeally important - two barrettes pinning up the sides of your hair like Wanda's over here:

They will automatically give the rest of your hair a more voluminous look! Isn't that neat?

Next up are the clothes. The main thing to keep in mind is the color scheme (red, white, black) and the silhouette (extremely tight-fitting). I can think of two options for you, aspiring Wanda, on the spot. The first is a classic pin-up ensemble, the second is a lot more modern and tailored to our century, but believe me, it has the same smashing effect!

LINK

LINK

And the last element of Wanda is, as you know very well by now, THE POUT. Here, unfortunately, you're on your own: the pout cannot be taught, it can only be flaunted. I'm sad to say that although a certain degree of practice can help, it's generally hereditary, which is why so few of us rock the awesome POUT.

Anyway, that's all for now. Stay tuned for more cryin' babies! 

Toodloo,

Alice!

vintage hollywood horror time

I recently got re-obsessed with Polyvore. I added the 're' because I was pretty crazy about it two-three years ago. But, as things usually happen (at least in my world) I lost all my usernames and passwords and stuff so I had to create a new account from scratch. Thankfully, life in this bountiful Internet era is very pleasant and simple, so I was back on track in mere seconds.

I used to be terrified of anything that even hinted at being of the horror variety, but I recently started watching thrillers and mild horror movies, which has made me slightly more immune to their ah-factor. So now, I thrive on adrenaline.

This summer I decided to focus on something creepier than the typical floral/boho/tropical getaway themes you can generally encounter in magazines. I know scares are generally reserved for colder months, but face it, what can be creepier than being pulled underwater by a cthulhu-like beast? And can there be a stranger variety of horror movies than the one where a group of kids plans a road trip to their uncle's old cabin in the woods only to be gobbled up by fierce zombies? You gotta admit there's beauty in easygoing holidays gone wrong. Or maybe I'm some rare sort of psycho. I dunno.

LINK TO ORIGINAL

Polyvore is a lot speedier, more modern and easier to use these days, which appeals to my non-tech-savvy side, and it's always been convenient because you don't have to go to the trouble of finding every single image's original source. And yet! Polyvore people, why do you have to make me feel like such a loser the second I make my first set? 

You know what happened? I got a like. Right after creating my first set. Seriously. Seconds after. Excited, I clicked through to see who appreciated it so much. And you know what I saw?

 FML am such a FOREVER ALONEZZZ

...actually, that sounds way too unnatural to be something for a real teen to say. Ah well, mission failed. *goes back to knitting*

Have a good life, yall!

PS: Oh, fun fact! I pasted a block of my writing over here and was told that, apparently, I write like H.P. Lovecraft, author of 'Call of Cthulhu'! I guess that's also what inspired me to write about these themes. I should probably read the book, too; it's pretty classic.


PPS: I tried I Write Like on a few chunks of my novel-in-progress and got the same result twice in a row! TALK ABOUT A COINCIDENCE, right?!?!

PPPS: I eventually got so inspired by this polyset (a neologism by moi; so cool, huh?) that I proceeded to paint my eyes bright blue. Below are pics from a half-look that's sort of a super tacky 80's version of 50's pulp sci-fi horror movies, if that makes sense? My top is super awesome polyester with a velvety feel from M & S (who knew they had anything remotely trashy, right?). My hair SHOULD be permed but the summer heat's made me too lazy for details.

high school hellcats on the ruuun

Hello, Internet people. I guess this post is basically a testimony to my unending naive hope for a bright future. Or maybe just boredom. I don't know. In any case, there's little use in rambling on and on about my limited readership, so I guess I should just get to the point, right?

Lately I've been feeling extremely fed up with all the clothes I've worn for the past year, even my whole image. All of my LB looks are pretentious quality photos of a hubris-stricken teenager striking generic poses. I guess they're kind of pretty, but I AM SICK AND TIRED OF BEING CONVENTIONALLY PRETTY. A few days ago my angst reached new heights: my frantic hands reached for the scissors, begging to chop of my hard-earned mane of hair off at the root. I drew things all over myself in an attempt to look less human. I don't know what prompted this, but somehow being merely a regular girl like everyone else I know is no longer enough. And posting typical Lookbook-worthy photos is sickening.

I want to focus on reflecting the vibes I feel around me, pull inspiration from the world I live in and my own fantasies and the books I read and the bad soap operas I chance upon on TV. I want to dress like no one else, but mostly LIKE MYSELF. Why is it that it's so hard?

Anyway, back to the present... I shot a few pics the other day wearing my new romper slash pyjamas. There's actually a funny story behind it: I was sure the pretty white star-sprangled thing I found on sale at Topshop was a regular 50's-style romper UNTIL I GOT TO CHECK-OUT. The cashier smiled sweetly at me, saying that underwear and PJ's were unrefundable. And then the reality of it all dawned on me... That same lady nearly kept me from buying the earrings I'm wearing in these pics, too. Bitch.

(I kind of hate this one's Lookbookyness, but it'll have to do)

So here they are. I added loads of graininess and then chickened out. What I particularly love about rompers (I have two) is that they're ridiculously comfortable. Plus they take about three seconds to slip on and you're ready to go! Seize the day! Conquer the world! Whatever you want! Cool, huh?

Oh, fun fact: soccer is my absolute favourite sport. I can probably watch She's the Man for a bajilliion days in a row and never tire of it. I was actually positive I was brilliant at the sport until a few days ago, when my younger bro's playmate pwned me SO HARD. So these days I just stay at home in the safety of my own front yard and throw around a soccer ball with no witnesses. Yes, I know, I'm a sore loser.

This one probably shouldn't be my favourite, but it is, since I've always drawn a creepy sort of satisfaction out of stupid-looking pinup girls. So now I'm one of them, looking like I don't have a thought in my head. How cute.

Anyway, ta-ta
Alice

hey guys, it's me again

Yeah, I'm back. Did you miss me? Didja? Didja? It's going to take a lot of self-control to contain the whiny adolescent entity within me sobbing uncontrollably. It's like there's me, and there's my darker stereotypical teenager side that's always lurking around nearby, ready to settle in whenever I get a little on edge. Freaky.

Anyway, closer to the point - INFINITY+1 got pushed out of the way since being raw and real is getting harder and harder for me these days, so I decided to get back in touch with my teenage side and return to this blog. After all, here I have a small but devoted (I hope) following of people who just might be curious about what I have to say.

But the format's got to go.

I really like the glitz and glamour of this blog, but it's time for me to show my other sides, too. Like unphotoshopped photos, diary entries, pressed flowers, that kind of stuff. I don't even know if I'll be able to bring this ol' blog up to the standards I've set for it, but I guess it's worth a try? I suck at being honest and straightforward, but I might as well try.

I'm staying at my cottage right now, and every day I spend here is spent at the local lake. Now, this is one creepy lake. It brings back memories from all the thrillers you've seen, and Pirates of the Caribbean 4 (for some reason), mermaids, underwater monsters and corpses with rocks tied to their ankles wearing white Virgin Suicides dresses and flowers in their hair. It's a place to perform witchy rituals. I guess all these associations have to do with the water: it's black and absolutely OPAQUE. When you swim through its icy midst, you can't see the bottom. I love it more than anything.

Recently I've noticed that I've become more attached to horrible things, lost my fear of horror movies and even ENJOY (!!!1!!@1) swimming in this lake. What happened? I have no clue. Anyway, here are some pics that portray me as a drowning victim of Black Lake's mighty power. 

So... Let me know what you think of the new me? Maybe drop by to say hello? 

INFINITY+1

Hello, guys. This is just a short post to tell you about my new blog. It has very little to do with fashion; it goes beyond anything I've ever written before. I plan on discussing everything there is, both intellectual and mundane. I'll understand perfectly well if you don't want to even look at it - after all, there will be no pictures of sparkly nails or pink dresses. And if you comment just to be noticed, not even reading the post, keep in mind that I won't reply. I'm sorry. I'll keep on posting here occasionally, but my mind requires something much more stimulating right now.

This blog is rather personal. But you can go ahead and read it.

http://infinityand1.blogspot.com/

XOXO,
Alice