and it's been a while

but we're back. hold onto your panties, folks.
we're a year older, a year wiser, and a year bolder.

take five

so you may have noticed a suspicious lack of posts in recent days. maybe you've reacted by falling into the grief cycle, and are currently looking at this post through tearful eyes over a pint of Chubby Hubby.  more likely, though, you're wondering why i'm even bothering to say anything about our absence because you've been too busy celebrating by living life to its fullest in naught but leggings and/or sixteen layered bandanas.  

the fact of the matter is, we're on spring break. it's not that there's a lack of people to judge in our respective hometowns (i'd even go so far as to say that that's emphatically not the case), but more that our brains are kindofreally exhausted. if you can possibly avoid it, you should never judge before you think. 

in short...we'll be back. 

- cee

weekly round-up

in one corner, we have high school mallrat boys in sweatpants-

it's raining outside. yeah, i know. whatever. happens to the best of us, even girls.

but there is no excuse, unless you're five and ridiculously adorable, for you to have tried using your sweatpants as a life raft.

you're rapidly approaching full-grown-man-hood and there really is no reason for all this wetnessinyoursweatpants.

in the other corner, we have the girl wearing the MOST adorable dress of all time OVER the ugliest grey sweatpants god ever thought of creating.

i mean, for really, it should be like a sin.

you just violated my soul, a bit, with that beautiful dress and those THINGS.

dear miss,

your hat is dirty, old, and frankly kind of gross.

actually, it's kind of surpassed the region of gross and now more dwells in the region of cess, crust, and gnarly.

also, it has things stuck on it. THINGS! it's like you've got your own dashboard going on up in there!

Self mockery

Something a little unusual, I just HAVE to question my judgment this morning: (nearly) open toed ballet flats. I mean, REALLY? While this wouldn't have been a problem if I were staying inside of my classroom today but it just so happens that we were out on the athletic fields. At 9am. With ice. No gloves.

Crazy? Most definitely.

weekly round-up

1. this week's award for ingenuity and innovation in fashion choice-

flannel pajama bottoms + hippie skirt + dress + military issue jacket= eternal warmth.

you just brought the fashion concept of layering to an all-new level.

however, the ice you walk is rather thin: one more layer and you WILL look like a slightly more colorful edition of the michelin man.

2. this week's award for most masochistic choice of apparel-

goes to you, dear sir, with the skinniest jeans ever sown.

my legs, even with all their experience with control-top hosiery and skinny jeans, call out in pain every time i glance at your peg-- i mean, legs. i myself just recently discovered that it can be cool, hot, sexy and comfortable to invest in a pair of pants in your own size.

i have also found that i can wash them more often because i can fit into them afterwards- no fatpantdance.

3. this week's award for bravest choice of legwear-

goes to you girls with the metallic leggings. you have good legs, yes, this is true. but it must have taken all of your morning muster and physical wherewithal to squeeze last-night's-thighs into those tightreflectivefuckers.

for seriously, i'm jealous. i might have chosen a longer tunic, but... you rock those metallic sausag-- i mean, leg casings.

4. this week's award for most dangerously-out-there choice of apparel-

goes to you girls rocking the american apparel shortshortshortshortyshortshorts. with NOTHING underneath. in mid-winter. with flats. and knee-highs.

i mean, to be honest, the exposed portions of YOUR legs were telling MY brain that they were cold. and i saw you from across the room!

that's some intense fashion commitment. i have difficulty wearing shorts in the summer because of the whole awkward-thigh-friction-thing-factor.

maybe you've got the right idea, though, wearing theshortshorts in the wintertime. i feel you. decreased friction-factor.

8:39AM: Recipe For Disaster

Morning Madness:

1 black pea coat (2 sizes too big so that you cannot see your arms)
1 pair of brown hiking shoes (as sturdy as they get, the stronger the better)
1 blue skirt (The ends must be completely destroyed and shredded to pieces)

Mix all together with a touch of sunlight and grogginess.

Serves: One

CAUTION: MAY CAUSE OTHERS TO JUDGE YOU

pardon my asking,

but aren't those turquoise things you are wearing underpants?

i know i'm being presumptuous, but i guess i've spent my whole life assuming that the one true, lasting law in fashion is that undies go UNDER things.

leggings, pants, skirts, dresses, jorts, bellbottoms, evening gowns. what HAVE you.

i'm beginning to feel like i don't even care anymore.

FINE.

WEAR your UNDERWEAR over your leggings

Judges You Like A Hipster, Comment Box

everyone- let's just all calm down.

we recently received a comment on one of our posts that was entirely out of line. this blog is largely a commentary on fashion. we are respectful in our posting, and make every effort not to alienate anyone on or off campus.

these comments are meant to be satirical, not mean.

it is our right to say what we are saying, if you are offended by it- don't READ it. this is a part of what makes the internet such a beautiful place.

we're not posting pictures of anyone, and we request that you have a little self respect and not post any either.

rude, tasteless, disrespectful, and just plain mean comments posted on our blog targeting anyone will deleted immediately.

thank you,

the ladies.

now, back to work.

3:16PM: Center of Campus

You thought you could get away, but I saw you.

And I judged.

Who in their right mind would wear silver leggings? Hunny, those are things that only Posh could pull off. Judging by the rest of your outfit those were not a conscious fashionable purchase. Who knew what you were thinking when you pulled green shorts over them?

Recommendations: Buy some real pants. They're much warmer. And we won't judge you for those.

Cheers!

Weekly Round-Up; The Usual Suspects

in every crime of fashion, we find time is inextricably involved.

cut-off jorts (jean shorts) originate in the late 1980s and early 1990s and don't belong anywhere else but themed dance parties and period movies. no excuses are accepted for the wearing of these bastardized jean mutants. unless, of course, one involves michael j. fox and altogether unfortunate time-travel circumstances.

suspect #1: student in dining hall on green street. cut-off jorts, ill-fitting beige leggings, hiking boots. black led-zeppelin t-shirt.

no time machine or aging 80s teen film stars in sight.

we all wore elastic-waist jeans and corduroys in elementary school. it was humiliating, yes, but we were growing children and thusly, such articles of clothing were deemed somewhat socially acceptable. we dealt with the heinous ugly of these pants by wearing sweatshirts to hide the waistband in question.

suspect #2: student in seelye hallway proudly sporting a "this is what a feminist looks like" t-shirt tucked into high-elastic-waisted acid-washed jeans tucked into rainboots.

yes, these pants DO make you look bloated, middle- aged, and miserable. would like to request that you discontinue representing feminists until you get your wardrobe under control.

6:45pm: putting away dishes

Dear girl,

Do you not know that you can't wear a vomit green floral print skirt with blue softball socks? Also, are those pink pantaloons popping their frilly ends from under your skirt? Your sweatshirt is cut up but you still have a hood. Hm. Black Nike sneaks. Klassy.

I judge you for walking outside looking like that. You had it coming.

Cheers!

5:45 PM, Dining Hall on Elm

my dear child, 

that's quite a few capes you've got there.

so, while it's still so damned cold outside, may i suggest that instead of layering useless felt capes you invest in a nice warm winter jacket (read: REAL CLOTHES)?

thank you, ma'am, and good day.

7:15 PM, Green Street Dining Hall

one, two, three, four- watch them all walk in the door.

since when have black leggings, boots, colored tunics, and sweatshirts become our national uniform?

they teach us in elementary school that ingenuity, creativity, and innovation are the hallmarks of american society.

i'd really like to know why we don't see much of that customary free thinking at this institution of higher learning.

6:15 PM, Green Street Dining Hall

"Well! Last night I made out with a homeless man. I mean, I didn't know he was homeless. I mean, he was WAY hot. I didn't realize until after that... he was dirty."

we're judging you, my child. we are SO judging you right now.

college law number one: look before you drunkenly leap.

12:08 AM, line outside house party

there are so many things i could say right now. i could comment on how that jackass you were with was wearing a jacket that was so small it legit came up to his nipples. i could give a saucy remark about how your skirt was so damned short it actually was dancing northwards of your delicate lady parts whilst you stood still. i could mention that this same jackass was actually not attractive, and you totally knew it- we could all see it in your eyes, but you wanted to get laid, and you knew you would have no better chances tonight.

but i'm not going to comment on any of that.

i just wanted to say.

in what HELL-hole of a discount shoe store for the elderly did you find those godforsaken shoes? i mean, REALLY? you tried to get laid in those orthopedic bastards? holy shit, kid. i'm surprised you found homeboy with the high waters.

for real. consider some sweet slingbacks next time, with a slender heel. stacked heels with a square toe are SO fucking unbecoming and dated. that's why some poor elderly lady abandoned them at the salvation army to BEGIN with. she probably ran away in her stockings screaming "... AND STAY OFF!"

i suggest you do the same.

Brit Brit Attack

After reading the most unfortunate article in Rolling Stone about Britney Spears (where she is surprisingly not blamed for all the shit she's done). It is my sad duty to inform the writer of that article that people MUST take responsibility for their actions. It's always nice if we can blame someone else for our own actions but Brit Brit has most definitely crossed the line between having a fucked up life and fucking up her own life.
On that note: here's to celebrating the most delicious gossip a girl could ever read in OK! or similar trashy mags.

Cheers!

EDIT: we at JYLAH are in a bit of disagreement regarding said Media Icon. Two of our esteemed editors are convinced that Ms Spears is the product of the worst of American tabloid culture, whilst the writer of this entry is clearly blaming Brit herself for the current spiral she is in. We ask that you, the readership, do some research (i.e. http://www.dlisted.com, aforementioned Rolling Stone article), and let us know what you think. There's no fun without a bit of polarization..

a compliment

i know. it's rare. WOW, i mean. a COMPLIMENT. holy shit. somebody break out the red stripe.

but in all honesty, i am a serious fan of your l.l. bean duck boots.

they're not exactly anything special or scintillating to look at, that's for sure, but they have something special. they're classic, practical, and fabulously refreshing to look at in this age of oversized hairy pink moonboots and uggs.

i congratulate you, friend, on your choice of footwear. well played, my friend. well played.

the murky depths of facebook

you have 43 photo albums, but after some extensive research (read: stalking), i've come to the conclusion that they're identical. there is NO REASON why there should be 43 albums of sporadic makeout sessions with your friends from odd angles. also, it's quite obvious that you were Under the Influence during these photo shoots, so really, only a couple pictures of you sprawled on your hallway floor are necessary.

i hate to say it, but this holds especially true because none of you are all that attractive.

reality bites, kids.

-cee

EDIT: further research has revealed that there are 57 albums, not 43. FIFTY SEVEN.

jesus h, let's all just calm down.

it's been a long time coming.

i actually feel bad saying this.

see, i've begun to think that you really believe that your hat is cool. but the time has come. i must burst this hat bubble of yours. to an extent, it is entirely understandable that you would think your hat was awesome. your hat IS one of a kind. it's one of a kind, but just not cool. or neat, or awesome, or becoming.

it's purple, it's felt, and it doesn't fit your head.

we'll work on the ill-fitting kitchen-curtain-floral eighties muumuu you wore with hiking boots and dirty socks last tuesday later.

9:52 PM, Campus Center

so, you know the statement you were trying to make with that filthy new mullet of yours?

yeah, that's the one.

no one gets it. and i do mean NO ONE. it might be a concept a bit too advanced for today's collegiate society. but i think it's more likely that maybe it's just too damn easy for us to misread as "i would be more comfortable living as a sewer rat. however, this hairstyle is the easiest alternative i could find."

buy a comb, some shampoo, and move on, kid. it's never too late to start looking human. if martha stewart can do it, you can too.

dear media monsters,

please leave michelle williams, her family, and the family of the late heath ledger alone.

there's a little word a famous singer once crooned about- "respect". use it sometimes.

there is a fine line between respectful dissemination of information and pathetically blatant greed, and it has become clear that you are not walking it well. 

6:15 PM, Dining Hall on Elm

you wear that cape, kid. you wear it with pride. you cavort about in this damn arctic climate of death practically naked in the elements and you LIKE it.

don't worry, no one's laughing.

because when you go to bed tonight with no friends and cold feet at least you can say:

"DAMN. i can't feel my toes, but i'm SO fucking glad i wore the cape today."

hey, you.

yes, you.

the blonde in the leggings and ugg boots.

that's ENOUGH. it's OVER. it's safe now. you can bring the pants out of hiding.

see? isn't this GREAT? you CAN cover your ass and keep your feet warm at the same time!

i've begun to think this is what makes the 21st century so damn awesome.

12:02 AM, Dining Hall

our world may be going to hell in a handbasket, but it's still early february. winter.

it's cold outside. i'm surprised that the two feet of snow outside wasn't a dead give-away, but there you have it. it's 34 degrees fahrenheit out there. cold enough to freeze the ass of a monkey.

this is why i suggest that you tuck your midriff safely away under your shirt, tuck your sandals back beneath your bed until spring and invest in some nice sturdy winter shoes and carry along on your merry way.

so, here's the thing

we all have those mornings where staying in bed for an extra half-hour seems like a better idea than getting up, dressed, and bathed for life. showers at times do come in a far second to fulfilling a deep need for early-morning rest.

we all have days when we must go closet-diving for our last remaining article of semi-clean clothing- which is, invariably, a conveniently forgotten shrunken t-shirt in pale-chartreuse from sophomore year of high-school. that may or may not have been purchased at wet seal with allowance money.

in any event, some mornings all of us have difficulty preparing for life. it's ok. it's a fact of life.

however, if your hair is going to be tangled and matted and greasy like that... PUT IT AWAY. hide it. put it up. they make hats, headbands, hairbows, hair clips, headscarves, hair ties, and a veritable plethora of other assorted hair accessories for precisely THIS reason.

no excuses.

sort of like skorts

skirts weren't made to wear over jeans.

so please don't wear them over jeans.

some things were meant to die in the 80s

like those glasses. if they're big enough to cover three-quarters of your face and are majorly interfering with your mullet, then they've kind of become a problem.

a huge, colored-plastic, magnifying problem ON. YOUR. FACE.

for the love of christ, consider some smaller frames.

also, the whole croakie action going on around your neck is entirely unnecessary. like, for real. i have difficulty believing that there is even the slightest possibility that you could ever lose those glasses. even if you tried. they're massive, plastic, and purple. tying them to a red cord about your neck just seems so, i don't know, redundant. useless. weird. those massive dinosaurs are going nowhere fast.

also, it might be about time to re-consider that mullet, while you're at it. you're not middle-aged, male OR driving a truck professionally so i'm pretty sure that's not the image you wish to present of yourself.

a note to the general collegiate populace

SHUT.

THE.

FUCK.

UP.

about your damn life experiences. i mean, we all have them, we just choose not to share them in the middle of class.

also, i'm relatively certain you're not the first person to have realized that this american studies course does not touch on international issues. however, i'm relatively certain that everyone else who realized that and cared didn't SIGN UP FOR IT. so quit your damn whining.

School Rules

I don't think I'd ever say this, but I really really am glad I am back at school. Seeing people who are so diverse in what they wear and act is extremely refreshing. Sure, you might see a group of hipster clones wandering around or large sunglasses being used a little too much.

But the thing is, everyone has such a refreshingly different personality that even if they might dress similarly you can't mistake one for another.

Also, while I was painfully abstinent over break, in the few days I've been here I've developed a few new crushes. Wooo!!!

YEAH COLLEGE!
To be said with the same voice as "Yeah Toast": http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ru_FIwX1tb8

Harper's Bazaar said so!

NEWSFLASH: Leggings are out. So last season hun, get yourself some pants.

Duh.

EDIT: Judges You Like a Hipster does NOT judge you based on your body type. We firmly believe that there is a fashion for every body and you can look very glamorous. Calling someone fat is not ok!

hygiene

dear fellow humans,

before you deign to participate in modes of public (and private) transportation, please remember to bathe.

love, the masses.

3 pm on a friday--haunting an old stomping ground

one of the main reasons no student likes to leave their collegiate bubble is that s/he often realizes that whatever rules they play by at school aren't necessarily the ones their old zip code abide. this is only one of many reasons i'm not a fan of my suburban new jersey town, but this was the one that had me dreading returning to my old high school to pick up my sister.

unfortunately, i had good reason. every unoriginal girl who sported Ugg boots and teal Juicy tracksuits from That Clique in my grade has apparently been replaced by girls who find their calling in "edgy" hooded sweatshirts (i.e. black + roses and skulls) and leggings as pants. 

i watched as they flocked into closed circles to compare text messages for approx. three minutes before i gave up and fled to starbucks. i was sure that i'd find solace in enough cinnamon-sprinkled foam to make myself forget what i had seen, but i was sadly mistaken-- there was a line out the door of legging-clad girls from the middle school.

to aspiring sienna millers everywhere-- i judge you. because you fail.

-cee

The plaid factor

If Tim Gunn says it's hot, it must be!

Heidi Klum was spotted wearing a PLAID ruffled tunic. Tim gave it two thumbs up! Congrats, sweetheart, you truly are a revolutionary in the fashion world!

As for Lindsay Blowhan: plaid tights are out. Congratulations, you have officially convinced the general public that you do not own pants (and you still look bad without them). Tim Gunn says: BIG FAT NO.

I am glad to report that the chicest hipster style is slowly taking over Hollywood.

Congratulations!

Sorority Girls

I guess you could say that I have come to a sudden realization: sorority girls don't dress well. I was terribly mistaken when I thought otherwise.

You, Miss Sorority Sister, have lots of money to spend. It's just a proven fact. So why dress like you don't know what's black and what's brown?

PS: Elle Woods always dressed well.

PPS: If you don't know who that is, you should consider hipsterdom. Seriously.

12:54 AM, Regal Cinemas

fat police officers do not make me feel safe.

10:02 PM, google

hipster erotica?

something tells me that this could be kind of gnarly. like the inside of a hipstertruckerhat.

like elk, hipsters roam together.

so why the hell do i always see your emaciated being sitting in front of thislittlecoffeeshop alone? get the memo, kid. hipsters are only cool when moving en masse.

dear britney,

yet again i find myself stumped by your brilliance. or, rather, what i have chosen to see as your brilliance.

wearing your old wedding dress to buy a car with a paparrazo?

this could mean SO many things. you could be making SO many statements.

a. i am completely, and utterly, insane. off my rocker like nanny crocker. three sheets to the wind.

b. this is my old wedding dress. i wear it to buy my lame-ass paparrazo boyfriend's car. oh, wait. i mean, help him rent himself a new car.

c. you wanna piece of me? i'd be willing to sell it to you.

britney, i think it is time we moved our relationship forward.

that is all.

also, sorry about the spawn of federline. not gonna lie, they kinda brought down your glam factor.

a darkened movie theater-- 4:20-6:30 pm

look, the only reason i didn't tear your heads off your shoulders after two hours of burping and talking through every moment of tense, artsy silence was because you didn't get the student discount like your behavior suggested, but the senior discount. seeing this movie was probably the highlight of your new year. thanks to you people, though, it was emphatically not the highlight of mine.  it turns out that the coen brothers are weird enough without quavery squeaks of "oh nooooo, it's the BAD GUY!" whenever javier bardem showed off his monk haircut on screen (note to readers: aforementioned "bad guy"is in almost every scene).

in conclusion-- elders, if you can't respect a spanish heartbreaker blatantly fishing for an oscar in the dusty west, i sure as hell can't respect you.

-cee

3:16 PM, carpool line

hipsters have children? also, if i were you, i'd be thanking thegodofeverythingholy that he/she/it has to wear a uniform.

believe me, it's for the best. promise.

7:45 AM, Harvey

Under no circumstances is it appropriate or cool not to be wearing a bra.

Don't deny the power of the brassiere.

5 PM, Starbucks

dear sir,

most of us have difficulty taking young children who believe in unicorns seriously.

you are not a young child, and that is most definitely a unicorn on your shirt.

step away from your soy latte and walk outside. take a breath or two of reality. believing in unicorns is just like believing in vice president cheney- genuinely pathetic and generally unsafe.

College bookstores are evil

As much fun as it is to support the institution that sucks your money to look fashionable with your Alma Matter proudly displayed on your chest. It's just. Not. Cool. Do you want to look like the Michelin Man? College food is unkind but that is no reason to dress in one solid color.

Do yourself a favor, TJ Maxx is cheaper and cuter. Plus you can buy ten times the things there than you can for one outfit at your friendly local bookstore.

Think about it.

[Executive Edit: while an illustration of the Michelin Man provided for a visual representation of the ideas presented in this entry, it scared the bo peeps out of me.  i actually had to sleep my way through a nightmare in which i played a game of pool with the Michelin Man only to have him smother me between his many, many folds of fat when he lost. gross. --cee]

10:25 AM, Glenwood

ma'am,

i saw you again today. typing on your blackberry whilst simultaneously careening down a hill on an old rickety bike is no small feat. snaps for that. yet again, you achieve things most humans could never dream of accomplishing.

however, i must admit, your biking habits worry me. blackberry-ing and biking without a helmet, i fear, is a terrible recipe for disaster.

also, it's winter. get a jacket. that sad-looking piece of cloth is not proper outerwear, i'm afraid to say.

that is all.

8:56 PM, Whole Foods

i saw you. i mean, it's not like you were making an effort to stay inconspicuous in this great southern land of everythingbathed, everythingpolo, and everythingjuicycouture. snaps for your great resolve in remaining creative in this stifling atmosphere. i congratulate you.

however, why? why would you do such a cruel thing to what was once an innocently ancient tweed vest safely tucked away in some hidden bin at salvation army? intuition tells me that poor piece of attire (suitable only for the elderly) never thought it would find itself so uselessly draped upon this emaciated chest of yours, sir. 

this, paired with your acid-washed skinny jeans, a brown felt hat, and a carefully chosen notsowellknown indie band t-shirt, begs the question- do you WANT to look homeless? with all the epochs of fashion you have hanging on your skinny bones, you look nothing more than a terrifically skilled dumpster-diver-- able to acquire a full ensemble of clothing in only two city blocks.

don't get me wrong, i adore skinny jeans. on a good day, it seems like they can flatter almost anybody. even acid-washed skinny jeans can be pulled off well. however, even the most flattering, attractive, well-made pair of acid-washed skinny jeans do not look good worn about the asscrack.

plumber's butt has never been fashionable, sir.

one last thing. those snazzy sneakers you were sporting had no soles.

dear britney,

please be my best friend. forever. we can stuff cheetos down each others throats and act a crazy all over beverly hills. we could run around together in our scivies at the most inopportune times. you could use my sanity, i could use your money.

a match made in heaven.

sincerely,

me

hey, you.

yes, you. this morning, i judged you as you tastefully styled each piece of your dirty hair in the mirror. i judged you as you filled your mason jar with coffee. when you stepped out your front door in your old-school sneakers, i judged you. i judged you as you hopped astride your thisismemakingastatementbike and rode off into the sunrise with that old-school backpack of yours hanging limp and uselessly on your back.

why would i judge you so?

because you're a goon, that's why. because you NEED to be judged. your very existence as a hipster practically BEGS for judgement.

i guess what i'm trying to say here is that the absurd "otherness" of hipsterdom intrigues me. it beffudles me. it challenges everything i have learned and like to think about this world.

and as you judge me, a member of the greatignorantmasses- unenlightened about the merits of wearing grandpa's sweaters and listening to radiohead, i judge you.