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Death By Leggings.

March 2, 2017 Rachel Callahan Denim Drama, Don't Listen to my Fashion Advice

Leggings make me feel dead inside.

Yet I still have exactly 8 pairs.

It’s true – even the sequins don’t make them better.

As I sit back and ruminate on where I went wrong in life, I must surmise that I fell into this slippery slope because of running. Running leggings are amazing. Compressing in all the right spots and freeing in the rest. They are so fantastic that they make all other waistbands feel downright oppressive, and I never feel less jiggly and as if I actually have a firm body than when I’m wearing running leggings. This, along with the fashion world changing to a leggings-based environment, created this heinous situation in my life. This vacuous space in my fashion story. This embarrassment to myself, and one day when they look back on pictures, this embarrassment to my children.

But leggings leggings are not running leggings. Maybe some are, but none of the brands I’ve tried out compare. They compress my lumps and bumps with the efficiency of a stretched out two-sizes-too-big pair of non-control-top pantyhose. And when I pull them up over my twice-c-sectioned belly, I immediately feel like all my everything is put on display, and I look like the identical twin sister to a bag of Idaho potatoes. When I turn around and see the sheer length of my backside – from waist to upper knee – I shudder with horror and feel like I’ve turned away from everything I believe in.

I quickly pull on an oversized, long, solid colored, shapeless top. And sigh.

How did I find myself here?

What happened to my bold prints and the snappiest of denim? What happened to structure and slimming lines and flattering stitching?

I peek in my closet where many of those things still exist, albeit with dust perched atop the hangers.

But oh, the effort. Compared to my up-and-done leggings and boring flowy tops, the waistbands and belts and camisoles and buttons feel. So. Exhausting.

Then I moan with horror.

Is this what it means to let go of myself?

To forget what it’s like to care about fashion?

HAVE I GIVEN UP MY IDENTITY??

Then I look around and see women everywhere, young and old, having reproduced and not, doing the same thing.

And I let a relieved breath go.

It’s not just me.

Maybe this year’s fashion is the fault of the cesspool of bubbling pus that was 2016 for America. The national situation was such that it left us no energy for zippers and spanx.

It’s not the first time this has happened, after all. There were the giant sweaters and stirrups* in the early 90s (I had a light brown baby poo colored sweater that could’ve comfortably fit my dad. I wore it everywhere, proudly.)

*confession: I miss stirrups. That band on the bottom of my foot felt downright pleasurable. But I shudder to think of their effect on my now belly.

So, fashion is obviously cyclical.

In a few years we’ll all be back to structured shirts (that haven’t had their shoulders mysteriously removed), bootcut jeans (shaped ever so slightly different and given some new clever name like ‘gram jeans or something), and maybe even heels.

So I say we go ahead and usher in the next fashion cycle.

Rebel.

Throw away those leggings (stop! no! Not the running ones! Just the soul-sucking ones.), pull out our lonely denim, suck ourselves into those foreign and bizarrely restrictive waistbands, and

Bring.

Fashion.

Back.

In just a few minutes.

Because these leggings are so comfortable…..

A Round-Up of the Random.

January 30, 2017January 29, 2017 Rachel Callahan Photographical Oddities, Weird Strange and True

Let’s have a round of not-at-all-important distraction, shall we?

As I’m sure you can tell by the way I live my life, designer copy paper is an absolute requirement. So thank goodness Staples had this deal on Cynthia Rowley’s designer case of plain white copy paper.

…Because my paper deserves better than to come in a standard box. And it should absolutely be locked up in a security box so nobody swipes it before I get there.

We have some extremely interesting realtor names in this town, and now we have balding aliens to add to the crazy. I guess the real estate bubble on Mars finally burst.

There’s nothing like studying Alabama History and learning that Hernando De Soto was a horrifically awful person who ravaged our state, murdering and stealing his way through it in the attempt to find some vast amount of hidden gold, to take the fun out of Family Fun park.

No. Not Awesome.

This pig has thigh gap. And I do not. The world is broken.

Filed under “cars you do not want to rear end.”

This is the home screen of my son’s iPad. I feel like I should go ahead and be looking into mental institutions for his future residence.

Who hurt you, Noah?

I went to the library to escape politics for just a second and read words unrelated to our current state. I failed.

And then I failed even harder.

I’m so glad they put that warning on this book. I once had a friend whose child’s brain LITERALLY exploded from doing one of these without parental supervision. But then again, who doesn’t have that friend?

I feel like TMZ should have Googled the phrase “popping a squat” before utilizing it on dear Prince Harry.

And now I can’t erase the mental image of Prince Harry wearing these shorts(?).

This billboard caught my attention the other day. First for the fact that waist trainers are something that apparently belong on a billboard. Then for the verse reference.

For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a tiny waist.

And finally, my Text of The Month award goes to….my sister-in-law.

Good thing he has superhero powers to fight germs.

What are You Wearing, New Year’s Eve?

December 30, 2016December 29, 2016 Rachel Callahan Don't Listen to my Fashion Advice, HauteLook, Weird Strange and True

New Year’s Eve is a fashion must, especially when you’re a mom who has no plans because her husband is attending a College Football Playoff Game.

You better look good for those kids covered in Christmas Candy Dust, ya know?

(For the record I could have absolutely flaunted my fashion fantasticness at said College Football Playoff Game, but I politely turned down the offer. My willingness to go to football while having a complete lack of interest does have a price ceiling, and certain seats are just too expensive for my butt to rest while I stare listlessly at my phone begging the end of the fourth quarter to arrive. Instead, my Dad will come over and watch the game “with me” while I stare listlessly at my phone and the children run magical circles of melted-chocolate-powered-energy around both of us.)

So, fashion. As usual, I turned to HauteLook to dress me for this momentous occasion.

And, as usual, I found what I was looking for – and a whole lot more. So I brought a few things for you to wear, as well.

Perhaps you’re looking for the perfect spot to wear on New Year’s Eve.

No, not the perfect spot to wear something – the perfect spot to wear.

If you don’t have time to order, this is a great craft to let those kids you have help you with. Just find a completely sheer shirt that you used to have use for in some prior exciting life,

Then get your kids to cut out a giant circle out of white construction paper, use a bit of glue, and BOOM!! Fashion.

Alternately, this is a great costume for a Dr. Seuss party.

I will not eat it in a pot,
I will not eat it in a spot.

And then, change into this outfit and…

I will not eat it in suspendered culottes.

But really, nothing says “I’m partying hard on New Year’s Eve” like the back of your pants resembling the front of a 1991 seriously Long Butted pair of dress pants.

Would you rather distract everyone waiting for the ball to drop with your own balls? Then this next shirt’ll do it. Especially if you bling it up a little with your daughter’s craft set and make every one of these pom-poms a tiny spinning disco ball.

Okay, okay I get it. You’re not all staying at home with young children for New Year’s. (Chris promises to be back well in time to kiss me at midnight, so Alabama better not go into overtime.) If you want to be a little fancier than I plan on being, I assume this is what all the young people are wearing these days.

I am not, however, appreciative of them making the off-brand version of “Rihanna” out of my name.

Need to imply a pop star’s name without actually using it?
Just stick a Rach on it!

I know that cold shoulder shirts are all the rage this year – either to hate or to love, depending on your personal beliefs.

But how do we feel about cold armpit shirts?

It’s not really an issue I was ready to face as a human being. How about you?

Thanks to the cold shoulder craze, we have all sorts of body parts that are jealously wanting to get a bit chilly. Let’s do a quick bullet list.

We have the Cold Clavicle Sweatshirt, perfect for moms who want their sweats and their sexy at the same time…

The Cold shoulder / arm / midriff and…

back shirt. How DO these women wear a bra?

The cold “Let’s Put a Tassle on it” shirt,

The cold “Please Don’t Choke Me” shirt,

(In case you wanted to understand how it was connected…I cannot imagine how constrictive this shirt feels.)

The Cold Curtain Shirt,

The cold shoulder AND forearm sweater,

The “Stripes O’ Cold” Dress,

The Cold Hearted shirt,

And, my favorite cold product of all time,

The Cold Lower Thigh Denim Dress.

It’s as if someone said, “This dress is covering too much. Like nearly every inch of her. We need more skin.”

And in response, one of the designers, strung out on a bad cocktail of crack cocaine and French Fashion Education, said “I know JUST the skin to show!”