I call this look I Wish I Were Audrey Hepburn (some more Lookbook hype love?) because, well, I wish I were Audrey Hepburn. :) Tried to go for a gamine-type look, a sort of cross between Funny Face (one of my favourite movies) with a jacket that might have fit in Sabrina. Whatever, it made more sense in my head when I was culling together this look.

Short houndstooth jacket: gift from Mum from Korea
Pants: H&M
Sunglasses: FREAKING CHANEL GAAAAAAAH. These sunglasses terrify me. I wear cheapos because I lose, trash, or break all my sunglasses somehow. This was a gift from Mum (because I cannot afford Chanel), who thought 25 was a good age for my “first” couture item. Oh Mum. I love you. Also I AM NEVER WEARING THESE GLASSES EVER AGAIN THEY SCARE ME SO MUCH.

Good gracious, I have a fat face! I have a tendency to get jowly, like a bulldog, when I gain weight. Also, I am starting to look old. Yikes! Is this the quarter-life crisis people talk about?

In slightly more positive news, I can now fit comfortably into my tight black pants without the waistband digging into my hipbones, yay! Weight loss is so weird; usually my face is where you notice all weight gain/loss first, but this time, it seems to be my limbs. When I get to my comfortable weight again, I think ought to reward myself with something. Give me suggestions! Books are good rewards and good incentives, so list books you’ve loved that you think I should reward myself with when I lose 6 more pounds.

I wanted to go for a girl’s take on a boy’s take on a man’s suit from the 1960s. Sort of. For makeup, I tried to go for a Twiggy-style cut crease, but wasn’t quite so successful. Alas. But…ORANGE LIPSTICK! YAY!

Blazer: Mum bought it in Korea for me
Shirt: H&M
Shorts: Also from Korea–it’s amazing my ass fits in this
Tights: Also from Korea
Shoes: Payless
Belt: Banana Republic
Sunglasses: H&M
Lipstick: MAC Vegas Volt

This is actually the first outfit I posted to LookBook (can I get some hype love?). That website intimidates the hell out of me; everyone is so freaking thin and for some reason I associate fashionista thinness with judginess.

Whatever, I am currently on a quest to lose 22lbs, although it is less for thinness than for the sake of running (and my knee). To my absolute horror, when I started running last year, I gained 7lbs! (And then some since my last checkup.) And before any of you tell me it’s muscle weight, IT ISN’T. My doctor sadly disabused me of that notion. According to my doctor (who is a runner and a marathoner herself), many people gain a lot of weight when they start running because they overeat and aren’t burning as many Calories as they think they are. Phooey.

I am slowly but surely bringing my weight back down to normal levels. I have been more or less the same weight my entire adult life (give or take a few pounds), so it was a huge shock when I had stepped on the scale back in October at the doctor’s office. I’ve lost 5lbs since I started diligently working at it two and a half weeks ago. Only 7 more until I get back to “comfortable”, and then 5 more to get to “normal”.

Once I get back to “normal”, I hope to lose 10 more pounds to see if I can’t shave some time off my miles. This is the year I’m in the marathon, and while my first goal is to FINISH AND NOT DIE, I would be lying if I said I didn’t want a decent time. And by “decent”, I mean “before they stop timing”. I want to finish in under 6 hours; ideally, I would like to finish under 5. My times have been steadily improving with all this practice, thank goodness. This weekend I have a 5K, the very same race that I began on when I first started this whole Tryathon venture. I hope to beat my time from last year. I think I can do it; I’ve been on track for it.

Why am I talking weight and fitness on a style post? Well, it’s my blog and I can whine if I want to, whine if I want to, whine if I want to. :)

It did! And we had many options to choose from, including a few Baby T-Rex didn’t see because I forgot I had them. (For instance, I rediscovered a corset + bustle that used to be a really hideous prom dress that I just cut three-quarters of the skirt off.) So what if I’m 25 years old and still enjoy playing dressup? So what if I go through life pretending to be a different character everyday? Today’s character: Schlubby Dancer. I am in leggings, leg warmers, ballet shoes (not flats, shoes), a tank top, oversized shirt, and sweatshirt. I am Schlubby Dancer a lot, especially on the weekends, because her clothes are the easiest and most comfortable to wear.

Maybe I’ll make style posts a regular Saturday or Sunday feature, the way I attempt to do with Photo Fridays. I can call it Shamelessly Sartorial. Or something. Earlier this week, I was Springtime Asian Schoolgirl. Warm weather turns me into an anime character. I wish I were lying.

Anyway, I’ve been feeling very uninspired in the sartorial department lately. As far as vanity goes, I’m pretty freaking proud of my looks, although you wouldn’t guess it from the effort I’ve been putting into it lately. Hoodies! Jeans! Absolutely no makeup!

Sometimes I ponder through ideas better by drawing them out, so I threw together a quick concept sketch with some pieces already in my wardrobe to see if I can’t push myself into caring a little about my appearance. (I care, I just can’t find the energy at the moment.)

Sketch and photos under the cut.

I call this look Country Mouse, City Girl

For some reason, I’m really into milkmaid braids. I haven’t had hair this long in over two years, so I figure I’ll do something cute with it instead of tying it into a ponytail all the time. (I never wear my hair down; I look better with my hair away from my face.)

My attempt at wrangling my hair into milkmaid braids last night. Somewhat successful. (Not really.) Photo is in black and white to reduce the ugly incandescent cast.

My hair is still a tad too short to fully complete the look, but I quite like it. I often put my hair in pigtails or French braid it, but this is something different. I also used to wear my hair in the Tsukino Usagi/Sailor Moon odango/”meatball” style, so I like to view this as a funny hybrid.

Do you know what's difficult? Shooting yourself with a prime lens when you can't see how the focus turns out.

This morning I tried to get in a few full length shots, but was pretty unsuccessful. First, it’s hard to shoot yourself. Two, I made the mistake of trying to use my 50mm prime lens. Three, there are no real places in my apartment I can photograph myself and showcase what I’m wearing without furniture or artwork getting in the way. (I have no blank walls in my apartment.)

Trying to get a shot of the makeup, which is pretty subtle, but I tried to give myself a youthful look.

If I’d thought about it, I would have chosen a light pink coral gloss to go with it. Full but light brows, some mascara, a little coral blush for some color, a little bit of highlighting powder for that “dewey glow”. Et voilà! Simple and quick.

From a mask and makeup test a few weeks ago.

My mother once accused me of living in a made-up world of stories and fairytales. Of course, I found this vastly complimentary, but Mum actually intended it as a criticism of how I dress. I stand convicted. As you might recall, last year Bear and I went as a gangster and moll from the 1930s. This year the med school itself gave me a theme: masquerade ball.

Photos from the night (and the process of getting ready) below the cut.

The night before prom I stayed up late watching the men’s free skate competition (yay for Evan Lysacek! boo for Johnny Weir getting robbed) while cleaning my makeup brushes and painting my nails.

I haven't worn glittery nail polish since I was 12 years old.

(The late night would come and bite me in the ass again later.) I’m not someone who wears a lot of nail polish as I’m a chronic nail biter, not to mention I have the hands of a 9 year old boy. Even as I type up this entry I keep thinking my hands belong to someone else.

I begged leave off work a little early (and because Cap’n Sweet Valley is the bestest boss in the world, I did) and got to New Brunswick around 3:30. I set up camp in a little unused attic room in Bear and Oz’s apartment to serve as my boudoir.

My dress waiting to be worn.

Because I had to do The Inimitable Bex‘s hair and makeup as well, I began my preparations extraordinarily early (and we were still a little late, oh dear).

I wore no makeup at all that day.

I wore no makeup whatsoever (not even concealer) before I began getting ready. Why couldn’t I have gotten the good Asian genes, like clear, glowing skin and awesome, straight hair? Speaking of hair, I had a last minute change in plans as I wasn’t too happy with the curls from my test run.

My hair is like the lotto. Some days I win with it sleek and straight, but most days I lose terribly with a wavy mess.

I worked on Bex’s “updo” first, which took quite a bit of improvisation and a judicious amount of hairspray and bobby pins as she has the thickest, straightest, most gorgeous-yet-stubborn hair in the world. In the end Jack and I managed to wrestle it into a slightly punked-out French braid with a low side-ponytail. Then I set to my own hair, which is also thick, but unlike Bex’s, it’s easily styled. (My hair is sometimes too easily suggestible. If I braid my hair for two seconds, it’s crimped for the rest of the day.)

Jack calls this 1960s bed hair.

I decided against the tight, ringlet curls and decided looser waves were more flattering on my face. I bought a curling iron with a bigger barrel (1.5 inch diameter). Jack calls it 1960s bedroom hair. It is indeed very voluminous. I had to work it without a decent mirror or lighting, but I think it turned out all right.

I have no features on my face, but that's because I haven't painted them on yet. I do, however, seem to have great cleavage going on.

And then the dress, which took some wrestling, wriggling, and two other friends to help zip me up. Also, here’s a tip to people searching for methods of portion control: SPANX. Oh my god. I’d never worn them before and I probably will never wear them again.

Makeup achieved! Soon this shall all be covered by a mask.

After we were gussied up, we made our way to the Grand Hyatt for prom. I made us fashionably late, but in my defense, I had to ready two other people in addition to myself.

Bex and Oz! One year ago we set them up on a blind date for this very event. Aw, happy anniversary, kids.

We made our way to the open bar and ordered beer and wine as we learned last year they watered the liquor down considerably. I opted for a glass of merlot to drink with dinner, but this may have been a mistake on my part. I got drunk within seconds and then practically slept for the rest of the evening. Going to bed late and waking up early for a 3 mile run tends to do that to a girl. Add a glass of red wine and I was finished.

I am drunk, but not naked in this picture. Even though I look it. Naked, that is. And probably drunk too.

I received a lot of compliments on the dress (just as last year I received a lot of compliments on the flower in my hair) and felt curiously over-exposed the entire night (the fact that I look naked in most of the pictures probably doesn’t help). The dress is fairly conservative with a full knee-length skirt, sleeves, and a bodice, but the off-the-shoulder and revealing neckline combination made it feel almost indecent. I’m bringing sexy back, Victorian style.

Me and Bex in our masks! I still look naked, but she's rocking my high school prom dress.

Somehow Bex and I missed the memo that purple would be the vogue colour this year. I couldn’t count on all twenty fingers and toes how many girls I saw wearing very similar dresses: jewel-toned purple, strapless, short, Empire-waisted, with interesting structural elements in the form of architectural ruffles.

Me and my handsome Bear on the dancefloor. At last, a picture in which I'm clothed!

After the night was over, we headed to another club for the after party but didn’t stay too long as the house music was crap and I actually fell asleep in the corner. Yep. I was that girl you saw passed out in the corner of a guido club in New Jersey wearing a vintage 80s floofy dress and a mask. Aren’t you all jealous?

We might have ended the night earlier than last year, but it was still fun, and the best part of the evening was coming home, taking off that goddamned Spanx, and snuggling up with my Teddy Bear and a White-Harp. Mrrrr.

(Not really. Except kind of really.)

Masquerade! Paper faces on parade!

I started this blog long before I was ever in publishing, but slowly and insidiously, the industry has infiltrated my entire existence–including social media. Cap’n Sweet Valley has me tweeting and Facebook-ing as part of my job description (not that I mind) and when I come home, it seems that all I can discuss/think/eat/breathe are books. I used to have hobbies! What happened to them?

I don’t miss much about being unemployed: the crippling bouts of depression and feelings of futility, the uncertainty of what I was going to do with my life, the fact that I was often eating ramen noodles, but damn if I don’t miss the endless amounts of time to devote to whatever creative urge moved me. And I have a lot of them: photography, art, animation, webdesign, piano, guitar, music, and writing. But more than that, I used to be frivolous! I liked being frivolous! What happened to frivolity?

So I devote this blog entry to frivolity. Exhibit number one: Med school prom!

What I wore to med school prom last year.

Last year I went to prom with Bear dressed in a fabulous orange bias-cut dress, pretending we were a gangster and moll from the 30s (I like to dress up).

Bear and I doing our best Prohibition look. All Bear needs is a gun.

Because I don’t like to repeat myself, and because this year’s theme is masquerade (last year didn’t have a theme), here is what I’m wearing this year.

Masquerade Prom!

Thankfully I was able to recycle the shoes and the faux-fur stole, and the dress is a vintage party dress from the 80s that once belonged to my mother. It is a size 8 and I can barely breathe in it. I bought a pair of Spanx from Ricky’s (along with the mask), but found out I had accidentally bought a pair for people who weighed 240lbs or more. I was proud of myself for having gotten away with paying so little until I stepped into Sephora and bought the entire Urban Decay makeup section.

Glitter eye makeup!

Nevertheless, I am pleased with the final look, even if I can’t seem to get a decent shot of its glittertastic goodness. Because of the dress, I was aiming for Sarah’s hallucinogenic ballroom sequence in the movie Labyrinth, complete with the requisite enormous hair. Now, if I can only convince Teddy Bear to dress up as Jareth the Goblin King…

And Frivolous Exhibit Number Two: LOST THE FINAL SEASON. Psychic Roommate and I are having a low-key get-together with some friends. We have decided to dress up tonight as our favourite characters: Psychic Roommate as Charlie and me as Ben Linus. I’ve got the glasses, khaki pants, dress shirt, and possibly even a fake ham, but I am sadly lacking the receding hairline, bulging watery eyes, and lack of eyebrows. Oh well. I love you anyway, Ben!

I will also say that I am absolutely thankful it’s the final season because I can finally quit this show. I have a bad track record with TV shows; they’re like abusive relationships I can’t get out of. I’m also somewhat of a serial monogamist when it comes to television. I KNOW they will hurt me, but I’m loyal so I will watch to the bitter end. (And the endings were bitter in some cases. Why must you hurt me in this way, X-Files?)

That is all. I will most definitely return with work-related posts in the future, but I felt as though I needed to find the shallow girl I know lives inside me.

Sometimes books make me want to eat whatever the characters are eating. My friend Katranna (and Jo March of LITTLE WOMEN) have both mentioned THE PICKWICK PAPERS by Charles Dickens as a book that makes them hungry. In my case, when I was young, it was the REDWALL series by Brian Jacques, which would delve into the mouthwatering details of deeper’n'ever pie, otter hotroot’n'shrimp soup, and other culinary creations that made my indifferent-to-everything-but-bad-food mouth salivate with cravings.

Such was not the case of Laurie Halse Anderson‘s WINTERGIRLS. WINTERGIRLS practically made me go out and eat a few doughnuts (and I don’t even like doughnuts) out of obligation.

Review of WINTERGIRLS by Laurie Halse Anderson

Wingergirls by Laurie Halse Anderson

It’s been a while since Lia and Cassie were best friends, let alone spoke to each other, but on the night Cassie dies—alone—in a broken-down motel room, she calls Lia 33 times.

Lia never picked up.

What follows is a heart-wrenching, emotionally-harrowing narrative about two girls who’ve dealt and are dealing with eating disorders. Cassie was bulimic and Lia is anorexic. But it’s more than a novel about girls wanting to be thin; WINTERGIRLS delves into the fragile mental and emotional state of these girls, their thoughts of perfection, their normal-dysfunctional family dynamics and how that affects their disorder. Cassie’s death has re-triggered the worst habits in Lia again and how her ED affects the family members in her life, especially her little step-sister Emma, is hard to read about. Lia has been into rehab twice, but as with anyone who has suffered a disorder, wanting to recover is the first step. Lia does not want to.

The novel is told in slightly-fractured prose, reflecting Lia’s fractured state of mind. It gutted me, because for all I wanted to smack Lia upside the head for being so stupid, part of me could understand and even admire her false-strength and her resolve. Admiration and disgust conflicted within me as I read, but I never stopped wanting Lia to get better. Laurie Halse Anderson owns my soul. I loved SPEAK, which reached into my chest and ripped out my heart, and now WINTERGIRLS decides to do the same. It also slapped me in the face and told me to go eat a doughnut.

So, so, so recommended. Just make sure you read with a box of tissues as well as doughnut-holes.

Speaking of altering appearances—but on a much lighter and much more vain note—I’m considering getting coloured contacts. Why? No particular reason. Last year I chopped all my hair off for the hell of it and this year I figure I’ll try something different.

(Warning: VANITY follows.)

I’m always torn about changing anything about my appearance because 1) I like how I look and 2) I am really, really lazy. Have gamine hair was fun while it lasted, but alas, hair grows (and mine grows ridiculously fast) and getting it trimmed every six weeks was taking its toll on my bank account. It’s the same reason I’ve stayed away from dyeing my hair (and I’ve always wanted to try platinum silver-blonde or bubblegum pink).

The other thing is, I sometimes look at photographs of myself and think that maybe leaving every au naturel would just look better. I like my natural hair colour and I like my eyes. Anything else would look like I’m trying too hard, which isn’t really the point. In the back of my mind I can hear my mother accusing me of dressing like a cartoon character (which is actually kind of true). My inner 16-year-old responds with But I just want to look speshul and diff’rnt!

Naturally me!

I wish hair colour and eye colour were as easy to change as clothes. Because I like my colouring, I want something subtle. Yet, there’s part of me that thinks To hell with subtle! If I’m going to do it, I may as well go all the way, no?

When I was little, I used to want to be blonde with green eyes and I firmly believed that I’d somehow achieve this by the magical age of 16. Remember, this is little JJ, who had no concept of genetics or even race. One day in preschool they taught us about black and white and I was sort of confused by this, so I came home and talked to my mother about it.

LITTLE JJ: Mum, I’m white, right?
MUM: …what?
LITTLE JJ: (looking at the colour of her skin) Well, I’m not black.
MUM: No, you’re not black. But you’re not exactly white either.
LITTLE JJ: (completely and utterly confused) I don’t get it.
MUM: (facepalms with a sigh)

After I read ANNE OF GREEN GABLES, I decided that I wanted to be redheaded. This was before the proliferation of sassy redheads in YA novels. But green eyes were pretty constant; besides, Anne also had green eyes before they became grey. I still think green is the prettiest colour for eyes, possibly because it’s rare. I surround myself with green-eyed fathers (Dad), boyfriends (Bear), friends (The Inimitable Bex), and fictional characters (Harry Potter). So I decided to go Acuvue (my contacts brand) and see what I’d look like with green eyes using their makeover tool.

Jade Green: Too much?

Put next to each other like this, I kind of like how strikingly black my eyes look. (My eyes are not that colour, alas—apparently black is not an actual eye colour.) I also look a little too much like Bear. (How unfair is it that a half-Indian boy could come out with such beautiful green eyes and extravagantly long black lashes? IT IS TOTALLY UNFAIR).

So, as Anne grew older, her eyes turned grey and my interest in eye colour shifted. Not to mention I was also reading Homer’s ODYSSEY at the same time as THE WITCH OF BLACKBIRD POND by Elizabeth George Speare, both of which featured characters with grey eyes: Athene and Mercy. Also, does anyone else remember the book THE GIRL WITH SILVER EYES. Silver’s like grey, right? If I had grey eyes, I could move things with the power of my mind! (It’s sad, really, how much books have influenced every part of my life. Or not.)

But since both green and grey are really obvious changes, I thought about a lighter shade of brown. Golden eyes! Those might be even rarer than green or silver ones! Also, Honoré de Balzac wrote about une fille aux yeux d’or.

It's still in the brown family...right?

But I still worry about it being too IN YOUR FACE. My eyes are indeed very dark (not quite so black as the photo makes them seem). There are a variety of other options: hazel green and chestnut brown for the least noticeable changes. I actually really like the chestnut brown, but there is that inner 16-year-old who keeps whispering why not go all the way…?

I am on an upbeat Joni Mitchell kick that I must sing to myself since Endymion the iPod has fallen into his enchanted sleep at last and cannot even be restarted. I have been having no luck with my Apple products recently, but in all fairness, Pantalaimon the iBook is nearing 5 years old and Endymion is even older still. They have had a good run of things. Soon I shall buy another laptop using Bear’s med student discount and get a free iPod with my purchase. Score.

Last night I came home and slept for 12 hours and it was glorious. Last night my mother also sent me a package of some recent fashions in Korea because she had just come back from a business trip. But because I immediately zonked out, I decided to open up the goodies this morning.

My first thought upon opening my package was Did my mother just send me an old lady blouse?

Mum, she has never led me astray before. Even if our fashion tastes don’t quite align, she has a unique sense of style that is age appropriate for her, but also has an eye for what might look good on me. To have sent me an old lady blouse, well, that’s something else altogether. Mum’s eye is going.

In the package we also had a really cute cropped faux-leather jacket and a white hoodie which tells me two things: 1) Mum still hasn’t lost her edge and 2) that she voluntarily sent me a hoodie of any sort means she is losing her mind. (She had thrown out every single one I owned when I still lived with my parents.) I am not sure what to think.

So I tried on the old lady blouse and discovered that it is simultaneously old lady and little girl. It has slightly Victorian detailing down the front and a high little girl waist (the blouse is long–more of a shirtdress, really) with a very vintage from-the-30s pattern. Ah, I think my mother was trying for the Depression-chic that seems to be sweeping the nation (and Korea, apparently). Unfortunately, as soon as I put it on, I looked like a reject from the Blossom show. This just goes to prove that fashion does rotate in 20 year cycles: the early 90s have made a return! I just need flowered leggings and a floppy straw hat and I am good to go.

Alas, I have no floppy straw hat or flowered leggings, so I made do with skinny jeans, my goth black ballerina flats, and a cropped vest. I am doing my best end-of-the-New-Romantics look. I just need a hat. I still haven’t decided which one in my collection best suits. Mum is enforcing my latent hipster-ness. Oh, Mum.

Bear and I doing our best Prohibition look. All Bear needs is a gun.

The closest to a full length photograph of my dress. What you can’t see: the train, my gold shoes, and my gold toenails. Bear wanted to wear a vest with his outfit, but we couldn’t find one in time. We totally forgot about the suspenders. :(

Bex channels her inner Greek Goddess.

The best thing about this dress? (Aside from the back that the colour is gorgeous and the cut flattering?) It was $36 at Banana Republic.

Close up of our makeup.

It took a long time to make my makeup seem subtle. I did Bex’s makeup as well. The false eyelashes? Made it through the entire night; I was impressed. Check out the scary red lipstick! Not visible in this photography: my cleavage. I cropped it out.

Bex and me at the Hyatt waiting for the open bar.

Another difference between med school and high school: free alcohol. It was fairly watered down but still, tons and tons of free booze!

Bex and Oz

The Inimitable Bex and the mayor of the first years Ozvaldo Zumba. Why is he the mayor?

Then we hit up the dance floor.

Because this popular stud can rip it up on the dance floor.

We're all cheering Oz, Oz, Oz, Oz!

The DJ was spinning some good tunes and for a while I could forget my aching feet.

Bear and me on the dance floor.

Bear and I were ripping it up on the dance floor, although I spent a good deal of the night worrying about my train. I eventually had it hiked up around my knees. Isn’t my Bear handsome in his hat and suit?

Dan looks so bombed in this photo.

The drinks were watered down but you can't tell in this picture.

After prom was over we went to a nightclub down the street and staggered home around 2am. My feet still ache, but man was it a good time. :)

My Mrs. Coulter outfit

This is what I’m wearing! I love my dress; I’m so smitten with the colour. Gold shoes, white elbow length gloves, faux fur stole, white rose in my hair…I’m excited!

My makeup

Here is the Scary Red Lipstick. I like 30s makeup on my face better than 20s. Ignore my weird hair; it just wasn’t behaving and I couldn’t get it straight again (even with a straightener). Therefore it is going straight back.

And now I’m on my down to New Jersey to see my Teddy Bear. Yay!