The art of the compliment

I love compliments. Seriously, they light the fire to what is called my ego. And admit it, you love them too.

You're hot. You have the best butt. You're so smart. You smell nice. I love what you're wearing. It's weird, but you remind me of Adriana Lima*.

Compliments are good for the soul. They never cease to warm my insides. The more specific the compliment, the more bonus points you score.

The problem is discerning which one's are genuine and which ones are the I-want-to-sleep-with-you-and-if-it-means-telling-you-pretty-things-then-so-be-it ones.

But the compliment that seems to bring about mixed feelings among us ladies has to be:

You're cute.

I was talking to a friend a while ago and she brought about how she doesn't think "you're cute" counts as a compliment. It is more something you say when you can't tell a girl she's hot and "you're cute" acts as a kind of safe medium. I agree with her to an extent. Cute isn't exactly the best compliment to give to another. For me, cute stirs up images of kittens and puppies and unicorns that you want to put in your pocket and carry around with you. Or those real life anime looking girls with big huge alien eyes and frilly clothes.

But then again, I take it. And I don't mind it. It doesn't exactly make my panties wet or whatever, but hey, I say thank you all the same.

However tell me I'm smart and gorgeous and the best thing since grilled cheese and I'm yours**.

*The proper way to give this compliment is actually the other way around (i.e. Adriana Lima reminds me of you).

**Not really. Do you really think it's that easy. But it's always nice to hear. And it'll make me like you more. Especially if you add in the grilled cheese part.

Can you please spell 'Gabbana'?

In regards to shopping and buying clothes, my boyfriend tells me I am "beyond hope" and "a lost cause" everyday. Which is a complete exaggeration people. I mean, just because I want pretty much everything, doesn't mean I have an addiction does it?

Okay so I acknowledge that I have a teeny little minuscule shopping problem. I don't know where the line is but I'm sure I've crossed it. In fact, I'm way past the line. I've hiked, climbed mountains, and swam oceans passed the line. If it weren't for my amazing money managing skills I'd probably be up to my head in debt right now.

Also, putting that last collage together (see last post) obviously shows that I have too much time on my hands.

I watched The September Issue over the weekend, which follows the behind the scenes activities of Anna Wintour and Vogue's making of the annual September issue. An interesting point that Wintour makes is when she acknowledges that people who love fashion are often seen as superficial or mocked for caring so much about the type of clothes on their back:

"Just because you like to put on a beautiful Carolina Herrera dress or a pair of J Brand blue jeans instead of something basic from K-Mart it doesn't mean that you're a dumb person."

It reminds me of the scene in The Devil Wears Prada, where Anne Hathaway's character scoffs at the magazine she works at and ridicules her coworkers behind their backs for being so invested in clothes and the minuscule details surrounding the industry, until finally, Meryl Streep puts her in her place. (Which means she told her to get off her high horse and gtfo of her face).

Obviously caring about how you dress and having an interest in fashion is not a crime, and thinking that people who do are stupid or idiots is a pretty poor and unfounded generalization. I've also noticed that people who love to shop are also seen as being tied up with being frivolous or lazy, which is probably the most untrue generalization I've heard.

If anything, my incessant spending habits fuel the fire to work harder in order to finance my wants.

Anyhowl, I know my blogging habits have been pretty rare lately. Hopefully I'll have time to blog more often as I'm off for two weeks before my Spring classes start up. Happy Tuesday people.

Phobias, part I

As far as I'm concerned, there are two types of people in this world: People who know their clothing color limits when it comes to dressing and those who don't.

Now before all of you in the latter category come at me with pitchforks, I have a confession: I have an extreme fear of wearing bright colors in general. One look into my neutral wardrobe should be enough proof. I am slowly trying to accept some colors into my wardrobe slowly, but it is a work in progress. Also I should mention that an exception to this is floral or plaid prints.

Basically, it's like a phobia. This phobia is so great that I even try to cut most of the color out of boyfriend's wardrobe. He should never leave me unattended at his apartment or he would come home to find his wardrobe destroyed and in ruins. This condition even has a name. It's called Chromophobia.

But the upside is that I can handle a little bit of color now. One bright colored piece paired with neutrals (blacks, greys, navies, whites, and any variation in between) is my rule/limit. It's some sort of brain mechanism where if I wear more than one bright colored piece, I think I would throw up or start having the shakes and smashing windows. Olivia Palermo provides an excellent example of how it should be done:



But god forbid those who insist on pairing bright color with bright color. As well, some colors are unforgivable in general and will never make their way into my wardrobe.



I’ve learned to accept these kinds of bright colored dressers as people, even though I think it’s disgusting and plain, downright wrong. I try not to judge them too harshly. I try to understand why someone would buy a pair of skinny jeans in bright green. It's beyond my understanding but I try to deal with it nonetheless.

More often than not, I have caught a great, beautifully cut top while shopping, only to be let down because it is a dreadful color like fucking magenta with yellow stripes running everywhere . So to all clothing manufacturers: If something is good the way it is (read: in beautiful neutral colors), for the love of baby jesus, let it be. Let it be.

But not all people think this way. So do you know what I have to say to all you colorful dressers in your 80's color t shirts? The world would be a much better place without you. Stop this insanity right now. The world does not work this way! If this little trend catches on, people are going to start replacing all the beautiful neutral colors with the Crayola palette.

The solution to lying liars who lie.

I once had the interesting experience of having a pathological liar as a friend. Unfortunately when we first met, she wasn't Pinocchio and so there was no way for me to spot this particular personality flaw right away. However, when I found out about her lying ways, instead of feeling angry that she lied about multiple things, it only gave rise to feelings of pity and charity. And of course, questions of my gullibility.

Which is why I have decided that these pathological liars need to come with BIG warning indicators. Or at least ominous music. Wouldn’t that be increasingly helpful? Especially when it involves the opposite sex.

Imagine this scenario: You are at the bar or club with your friends, having a drink and suddenly the door swings opens and he walks in. You know the one. His dark hair is slightly tousled as if he has just gotten out of that gorgeous convertible, his features are chiseled, and everything about him is full of promise. He walks over to you, with just the right amount of confidence in his stride, and gives you a smile that pretty much curls your toes it has so much sex appeal.

However, as all this is happening the ominous music cues and consistently gets louder and louder until you simply cannot ignore it anymore. Sirens go off in your head and you tell him, no way Jose.

Approximate time you just saved: 1 month - 1 year.

Movies do this all the time. This is why I can never understand why the poor women consistently dates the man who abuses her over the many long years, is really a criminal in disguise, or is a business man who has four other wives in four other cities. Don't they hear the ominous piano notes that accompany him whenever he enters the scene? Is it so difficult? Seriously, they're pretty damn loud.

This would also be especially helpful for my boyfriend, not because he's a liar, but because of yours truly. Like when I get angry. When I get angry, I feel like I can win any and every argument because I have the powers of irrational thought on my side. So before my anger with him plateaus, the foreboding tones would start and he could run as far and as fast as he could away from me.

Easy peasy, right?