A Very Special Girl Friday

I'm so excited to introduce you to the littlest, cutest, sweetest Girl Friday we've ever had on the blog:

Beatrice Severn was born last Friday evening, a few weeks early! We're all doing very well and enjoying sweet time as a family, loving on our new little baby.

Things will be a little quieter on The Twenty Ninth for a bit as a result, but we'll be back in a week or two with a new series about finding the perfect tee shirt... stay tuned!

The Curse of the February Sandals

via Target Does It Again

It's not my fault. It's because of those sneaky 60 degree days that just pop up all of a sudden in the middle of February and early March and remind you that there is life after snowstorms. I. I. I. Just can't help myself. Especially when rows of new sandals at Target whisper their summer siren song, begging me to try them on... to smell their fake leather new shoe smell... to take them home...

The past two years, I've been suckered. I bought sandals in February, convinced that when April or May rolled around and I could finally wear them, that I would LOVE them. That I would wear them with EV-eryTHING. That I would be SO glad I grabbed them at the store before they went out of stock.

Not so. It is a curse. But still, I buy them. I buy those sandals, convincing myself with thoughts like, "It's a promise of SPRING! It'll remind me that warm weather is coming! They'll bring happiness! They'll break the monotony and despair of 40 degree days!"

And then something happens between the rest of February and throughout the cursed month of March. The wait for spring seems interminable. The weather continues to be frigid. And the brilliance and perfection of the promise-sandals die a slow sad death as they wait in my closet.

Then one day, when it's balmy and perfect, I try on everything I possibly can in an effort to make those dang sandals work. And they don't. I wear them once or twice, trying to appease my buyer's remorse, all the while mourning my muddled winter-headed stupidity in buying those ridiculous sandals. I swear I won't do it again next year.

But so like these sandals just showed up at Target, and I like you know like really like them and think they'll be like so versatile and I can already picture what I'd wear them with and I think I should buy them now even though it'll be weeks before I can wear them, but I know I'll regret it if I don't, and it was so warm this weekend...

Besides, it's March now, not February, so I'm safe, right? Good, because I bought them. Now all I need is a pedicure!! Aaaaand sandal weather. But that's beside the point. Reckless abandon here.

Happy Monday; go get yourself some sandals!

A fun little something...

My post about styling for Bittersweet was featured on their blog today! If you haven't made your way over to their site to learn more about their magazine and their cause, this is a great chance to do so... the work they're doing is inspiring and worth reading about.

Styling for Bittersweet Creative

In December, Bittersweet Creative contacted me asking if I'd be willing to style an upcoming staff photoshoot for them in January, to be featured in the winter issue of Bittersweet Zine. The Zine is a quarterly publication that uses art to tell stories of current social issues affecting the Washington, DC community. They ask different local artists to contribute to each magazine, and as it says on their website:

We feel like those stories of hope, joy, and selfless service will empower our readership with a high-level working knowledge of various issues while also inspiring people to engage in issues in a meaningful way, using their unique skills, talents, and experience.

I was immediately on board -- I've been hoping for ways to use my love of art/styling for the "greater good" and Bittersweet seemed like the perfect way to do just that.

For the photographs, the girls at Bittersweet wanted to be sure to communicate the closeness of their staff "family," as well as their approachability and their individual personalities. So I started thinking through an overall look and theme for the shoot, knowing I'd be working with a setting that included vintage furniture and exposed brick.

I loved the idea of playing with the meaning behind the organization's name: Bittersweet. They define it on their website as "creating beauty and balance from unlikely/opposing elements." My thought was to layer neutral pieces of clothing with multiple & opposing textures and then add small pops of color/jewelry in order to subtly evoke that idea. I came up with a Pinterest board of basic outfit ideas to send to the staff, along with some guidelines for them as they shopped their closets for clothes to bring as options.

Once I got to the shoot we needed to work a little faster than anticipated, so I didn't end up using a number of my plans, but that was fine! It became more important to make sure they were all in coordinated outfits that expressed their personalities and worked with the setting in order to get a good group shot within the time constraints we had. 

All the clothes!

Behind the scenes. (Photo by Steve Jeter)

In the end, we got a great group picture (as well as some individual portraits) that turned out beautifully, thanks to the photography of Steve Jeter. Personally, I had So. Much. Fun. The experience of picking out clothes, thinking on my feet, trying different pieces, matching up multiple outfits and pairing them with shoes and accessories for four different people was an amazing artistic challenge. It only confirmed that styling is something I love and want to do in some form as I move forward with my life. I was thrilled to have this opportunity and can't wait for more just like it!

I also can't wait to share the finished product with you once the winter issue of Bittersweet is printed and published!

New Year, New Hair!

It was time. I guess my current thirst for color isn't limited to just clothing and just fuchsia (spelled it right the first tiiiime). There is no way I would go fuchsia on my hair. At least. Not all over my head. But the point is: my color craze has manifested itself in a new way!

Ombré highlights might not seem crazy to you, but as a hair color virgin, let me tell you this is the result of a year's worth of me hemming and hawing. I know, it's a little wimpy of me. But I did it, and I love it. Kind of liberating.

Up dork factor to 10, I know.

Excuse me while I freak a little and do a happy dance. And bring on 2013! Happy New Year!

PSA

Over the past few weeks, I've been starting to feel a little boxed in by the niche I chose for my blog back in August. Don't get me wrong -- I'm enjoying the focus on fashion, and I really appreciate the reader support. But I find myself wishing for a more all-inclusive space in which to be creative.

I'm changing it up again (just a little)... because I must spread my wings and fly.
Actually because it's my blog and I can change it up when I feel like it. Yaay.

You've probably noticed I've been throwing more random writing posts in here and there, along with the "Currently Loving" type posts (and maybe you asked yourself what the heck those have to do with fashion?). The 29th is going back to its roots: a place where I can write, as well as a kind of inspiration board/curation of things I enjoy -- everything from clothes to art to writing to styling to color palettes -- whatever I'm stuck on at the moment.

Here's the thing though:

• I still plan to keep up with the Girl Friday interviews here and there. 
• I still want to answer your style questions. 
• I'll probably still share cheap finds because that's the kind of thing I love.

So all these things aren't going away! But the blog just might not be as fashion-condensed as it has been.

If you were only here for the fashion stuff, no hard feelings if you move on. If you were reading to make fun of me from the comfort of your living room you might want to stick around... I'll probably be providing you with some more material since I'm broadening my scope a bit. If you were here because you're my family and you're proud of me no matter what I put on my blog, thanks forever.

So here's to sparkly new blog headers, styling pretty clothes, the lovers, the dreamers, and me.

The 5 Houses of Halloween

Here's hoping you're cozy and warm inside on this hurricane-y Monday! Since I know you're looking for something to do between watching alarmist weather reports, scarfing down "Hurricane Necessities" (i.e. Ho-hos, fun-size packs of M&Ms (they were on sale!), and Cheetos), and waiting for your basement to flood, here's another little trip down Casey's Memory Lane. Also, it includes some Halloween advice. Besides, with Sandy trekking up and across the coast, who knows if Halloween will even happen in the eastern half of the US? So keep popping those M&Ms and escape into a land where Halloween still exists. This is my hurricane gift to you.

My Halloween memories mainly smell like Three Musketeers and Milky Ways.

We'd eat chili and cornbread every year, wait for it to get dark as we excitedly pulled on our costumes (over our turtlenecks, to ensure we were warm enough), and then wander into the dark neighborhood, my dad close behind with a flashlight. When our plastic pumpkin buckets were mostly full, we'd head back to the house to sort through the loot, dispose of any Mary Janes and black licorice, and eat as much candy as we could before Mom and Dad issued their "HOW MUCH HAVE YOU EATEN THAT'S YOUR LAST PIECE" warning.

What could make or break Halloween were the houses you hit up for candy. Growing up in a townhouse community was the best -- hundreds of houses crammed together. Of course, with that many houses to choose from, you knew you'd knock on the doors of some duds. I've found that houses at Halloween can be divided into one of five categories, and can tell you a lot about the people handing out the goods:

1. Porch light turned off, fence locked, shades drawn: Clearly scarred by Halloweens past, devoutly religious, or those who don't want to risk getting mugged by overly aggressive and germy children. Don't even walk up their driveway or steps -- assess from the road that there is no sugar to be had and move on. 
2. Bucket or basket on the well-lit porch: These people hate the sound their doorbell makes, still don't want to risk getting mugged, or are watching TV show premieres in the basement and want to guarantee they only have refill candy during commercial breaks.
3. Might-as-well-give-out-raisins stingy: Dentists, granola moms, economists... there's nothing worse than "here's one Dum-Dum lollipop" unless of course you do end up getting a box of raisins. Or a mini bag of pretzels. What the heck. Have you ever MET a kid? Were you ever a kid yourself?
4. The regular houses, with non-spooky decorations: They have kids or grandkids who are also out trick-or-treating, usually toss a couple fun-size candy bars into your plastic pumpkin, and comment on how sweet your costume is, even if you're dressed like a face-melting zombie.
5. The kid's best friend: Generous handful: Also read, Home of the King-sized Candy Bars. Typically adults who are still kids, who are more dressed up than you are, whose houses are decorated to the nines with fake cobwebs, and who are more interested in freaking trick-or-treaters out with their man-sized Mickey Mouse costume (yes, this happened) than commenting on whatever you're dressed up as. Worth it. 

Here's to hoping trick or treating still goes down on the East Coast! And if it does... be the good house on your street, for crying out loud.

Halloween Costumes I Have Known & Loved

The race to prepare for Halloween began October 1. My siblings and I had a matter of weeks to come up with and put our costumes together -- my parents were strong believers in "making our own," so we didn't run off to the store and grab the nearest princess or superhero costume. Preparing for trick-or-treating was a painstaking and creative process. If our costume was more clothing-based, we spent afternoons rifling through our dress ups bin and our parents' closet, looking for pieces that would add to the realistic quality of our get ups. If it was materials-based, my parents would provide us with the necessary cardboard boxes, trashbags, or egg cartons and help us execute our masterpieces.

Over the years, I was a reporter (dad's trench coat), a princess (in the pic above -- my mom altered her gorgeous lace dress to it fit me), a die (yes, my sister Erin and I were a pair of dice. Picture skinny legs and arms sticking out of square cardboard boxes fighting to get out the front door... it was awesome), and, in turn, The Purple Crayon (my sister's sporting it in the above picture. Mom made it for my older brother, and growing up, it was a rite of passage to be the Purple Crayon for Halloween. Every single one of my siblings has worn it, and my mom still has it waiting for the grandchildren to grow into it.).

As I got older, my modus operandi year after year was to come up with an initial plan at the beginning of the month, and then at about 5 o'clock on October 31, change the whole thing. My ever-patient mother helped me come up with last minute costumes many times (the trench-coated reporter was one such costume... another involved a kimono and some eyeliner). One year, I wish I had changed my idea last minute. I was 11 or 12 and getting cocky, so I came up with what I thought was a fool-proof plan to throw on an easy costume in order to get the maximum amount of candy with the least amount of effort. I got one of those goofy pumpkin leaf bags that people use for outdoor decoration, cut leg and arm holes, stuffed it with newspaper so I'd look like a jack-o'lantern, and trussed it up around my shoulders and neck with tape or something. I hadn't thought through the fact that as I gallivanted from house to house, the leg holes on my second-rate costume would begin to widen. I slowly lost newspaper throughout the evening like an incontinent child, and by the end of the night, I looked like a jack-o'lantern after it had sat on the front porch weeks past Halloween. That was the beginning of the end of trick-or-treating for me.

I love that my parents saw Halloween as an opportunity for us to build and create. My siblings and I collectively have worn some incredible homemade designs (robots, Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, bags of jelly beans...), and I think we anticipated trick-or-treating all the more as we plugged away at making our costumes here and there, day after day after school. I hope to give Violet the same kinds of Octobers as she grows up: creative, anticipatory, and full of memories.

This Summer's Bracelet.

(This year's bracelets. The gold one was a gift.)

I make and wear a friendship bracelet or two every summer, and have since I learned how to make them in elementary or middle school. At the end of each August, the threads are fading, matted, and full of memories from the past 3 months.

A friendship bracelet doesn't just add a summertime vibe and personal touch to my warm-weather outfits. It's also allows me to wear a little collage of the colors that are currently inspiring me, and be a little mismatched.

But these bracelets are mainly about the memories. My sisters and I would spend summer afternoons knotting bracelets together, and now my youngest sisters are carrying on the tradition. Last year, my little sister Laura made me a bracelet. It ended up being pretty special, since I wore it through the last few months of being pregnant with Vi. It's in her baby box now, just for fun.

This year's bracelet carries memories of Vi's first experience with the ocean, her first birthday cupcake, countless walks through the back streets of our neighborhood, a Coldplay concert, sitting in the sun at the pool, and ...starting this blog.

It was a good summer.

Here We Go.

Well, the cookies worked. (I mean, really, have chocolate chip cookies ever failed anyone?)

Surprise, I'm making more changes! But this time I think I've figured out what I really want to do with this blog and I'm excited about it in a way I wasn't before.

I changed my About page to reflect the new direction The Twenty Ninth will be taking, but here are some specifics on what you can expect. (And if this makes you want to hightail it back to the website you were browsing before you clicked your way over here, that's cool too: fly, be free.)

I really want this blog to be for and about real people who enjoy fashion and/or want to learn more about it. I look at fashion as a kind of art, and I get excited when people discover their particular style and put their own unique spin on what they wear. My hope for this blog is to encourage you to be yourself while inspiring you to be adventurous when it comes to your style and wardrobe. Here's how I want to make that happen:

• Interviews with friends & family who have honed their personal style
• Q & A with readers (see below for more on that)
• People watching: describing & recreating outfits and discussing what makes them work
• Random personal stuff: style mishaps; clothes & trends I'm excited about and want to try; things I've learned about fashion, the industry, and shopping; tips & tricks; pictures & stories; things that have nothing to do with anything...
• Clothes for Cheap: high end lookalikes, tips on sales/deals, ideas for achieving your look for less moola

I want this blog to become a fashion-loving community. But to do that, I need your help - I want (and let's be honest, need) to hear from you:

• With questions about how to work with what's in your closet: if you've got clothes you're not sure how to style, or if you're in need of outfit ideas, I'd love to work with you!
• With questions about where to look for a particular piece, or where to find cheaper options.
• Questions about fashion in general - I want to keep learning about this topic, so if you've got questions, I'll do the research for you.
• About blogs, art, outfits, etc. you've found inspirational and think others might too.

How does that all sound?
I'm excited to get started.

Progress Report

To be honest, I'm still feeling muddled as I blog. But I don't want to stop, especially because I'm gaining traction and honing in on what I want to do with this little corner of the interwebs as I write and delete and post and retract. It's all helping me narrow my focus down, even though that means I'm toying with your emotions, leading you on wild goose chases, and probably making you toss and turn at night as you try to figure out just what I meant when I posted that thing about the shirt that one time.

My point is. If you're still hanging in there with me, know that I appreciate it.

Are there any type of posts in the very short week that I've been doing this that you've particularly liked? I think I know what changes I'm going to make, but if something is working for you readers, I want to know. If you have a second and are feeling loquacious, drop me a line!

Meanwhile... I'm going to keep thinking it all through and probs go make some chocolate chip cookies as I ponder.

So this is awkward...

...but I'm still trying to figure out what the purpose of my blog is. After a couple of evenings of brainstorming and mindmapping, I think I'm inching closer to what I want to do on here. I've yanked some things, changed some features, considered getting a face tattoo...

That last one was an exaggeration.

Hence, I've updated my tagline and about page. Read more here, if you're interested! Annnnd thanks for hanging in there with me. Hopefully my blog will bloom from an awkward middle-schooler with braces into a fulfilled college graduate over the next few weeks.

How I Figured Out What Dolce & Gabbana Was, and Other Fashion-Related Things

My journey into being a fashion junkie started very slowly. The boat barely left the harbor until I was in my later 20's. But there are several moments in my short fashion-loving life that are momentous, and got me to where I currently am.

When I was about 14, I wore a black sweater with a long corduroy skirt to church. I thought I looked sophisticated and put together. (Although now I'm not entirely sure why I did - I think I also wore faux suede clogs with this outfit.) An acquaintance's simple question, "Are you feeling okay?" seemed kind enough, but what came next changed my view of fashion for the next 6 years. I told her I was feeling great. She said, "Oh, because you look a little sick. Maybe it's because you're wearing black." And that did it. Besides having to sit through the entire church service feeling self-conscious and green, the fashion corner of my fragile little tweenage heart was slightly crushed that day. Convinced that I turned a deep shade of seasick green anytime I so much as looked at black, I proceeded to adopt brown as my neutral color of choice, with the occasional navy thrown in. (In later years, I ditched the boring brown and gravitated more toward gray, and my love for this color has remained to this day.) But it wasn't until a few years ago that I realized almost everyone around me, despite their skin tone and hair color, could pull off black. I had been listening to that tween friend's fashion advice in my head for too long. So I forayed into the forbidden, purchased a simple black cardigan, and things have been better since.

I was involved in community theater during those same formative years. The costumes were always make-do-with-what-you-can-find sort of get ups. For one character, I ended up wearing brown knee socks and black "leprechaun shoes" as my siblings lovingly called them. (These shoes were what I had deemed the height of fashion for a tween that year - the arguments I had with my mother over wearing them with dresses instead of a nice pair of black pumps are now legendary.) I knew the brown socks with black shoes wasn't an ideal combination, but I was wearing a long skirt and I didn't think the audience would notice. But a cast member did. The cool high-school girl who played my older sister in the show, with her gorgeous freckles and cigarette smoke-laden breath caught a glimpse of my socks and shoes one night between acts, and said to me, "Black and brown - that's a big fashion no-no." Up until that time, I hadn't realized that fashion no-nos were that serious. I knew that jean jumpers, sneakers with dresses, suspenders, and no white after Labor Day were typical fashion no-nos, but brown socks with black shoes as a costume? That was nuanced. That was advanced. I took this to heart.

When I reached high school, I realized that the fashion ante had been upped. No longer could I get away with just any brand of tennis shoes. They had to be Adidas, and they had to have stripes on the side. Unfortunately, my baby-sitting money was going toward my savings account so I could go to college and buy a car, leaving me with little discretionary income. The extra spending money I had was going toward contact lenses, so I could ditch my geeky glasses - this was non-negotiable. So Adidas sneakers remained elusive. I tried to do my best to fit in. When everyone was wearing college logo hoodies, I tried to substitute with a big gray crew sweatshirt I found for pennies at Wal-Mart. The attempt was unsuccessful, if you couldn't guess. When flares were really in, I again canvassed Wal-Mart in an attempt to find the cheapest pair I could. This "re-creating on the cheap" is an ability that has been honed and developed over the years and serves me well now, but it was pretty touch-and-go in those early years.

Fast forward to late high school. Some cool friends took me under their wing, and introduced me to American Eagle and Old Navy. If it weren't for them, I probably would've been condemned to wear Wal-Mart mom jeans and 2 for $10 ribbed long sleeve tees from Kohls for the rest of my life. They still tease me about it to this day. In my gratefulness, I don't mind. I had hit the motherlode. Sure, I could only afford the sale rack, but finding these stores was like cracking some kind of style code I'd been working at since freshman year. THIS is where all my friends were getting those jeans with the little winged embroidery stitched on the back pocket! (Of course i didn't ask them; I didn't want to seem like I was the ignorant walking fashion faux pas that I was.) I remember walking into Old Navy and seeing and smelling that rainbow wall of flip flops for the first time. High on the scent of rubber, I could barely contain my excitement at the adventures in color that awaited me. Luckily, my characteristic indecision prevented me from going too crazy on the color combos, so I was unwittingly spared from looking like I was shopping for a 7th grade beach trip.

American Eagle and Old Navy got me on the straight and narrow, but there were trials and tribulations over the years. I stuck closely to what I saw other people wearing as I learned about what I liked and what I could afford. I left Wal-Mart behind me and explored the mall, casting my net wider and wider, discovering other stores. I went through phases. I dressed like a high-schooler into my early 20's. But, thanks to the internet (did you know you can Google how to pronounce 'Louboutin'?), the Disney Channel (don't mock; I'm baring my soul here), a dose of The Devil Wears Prada and shows like Project Runway, I began to love fashion. I don't claim to know what I'm talking about: my fashion "teachers" aren't necessarily reputable sources, I don't own anything high-end, I didn't go to Parsons, and there are days I still look like a Wal-Mart ragamuffin. Maybe we can safely call it a hobby?

But it's been a fun ride so far. I've learned to re-create looks I like on the cheap, try new styles, build a wardrobe that works together, and set parameters for myself (neon jeans? Yeah, no). Some might call me a wannabe, which in my mind translates to "a weak-minded individual who gives into fads and doesn't know what they like." But i know what I like - I just like a lot things, and I'm constantly looking for new things to try. If I see something styled in a way I like, I'll try it. I don't want to be tied down to one kind of style (although, like everyone, I have things that I gravitate towards, always... like gray tee shirts). Fashion is a kind of art - a pursuit of beauty, a scrapbook that you wear, a way to play around with colors, textures, and patterns that doesn't involve stretching canvas over a wooden frame. I have far to go, but I'm loving it.

My Collage Years

I learned at a young age that I was no good at drawing. Sure, as a kid I prolifically drew my little heart out in scribbles, doodles, and girls in white dresses with blue satin sashes, but I never created great masterpieces. The perspective was off. The eyes weren’t right. The horses looked like cows, the cows looked like UFOs.

During my teenage years, I began making cards. I grew up making birthday cards for family members using stencils and stickers (which provided a crutch to my poor drawing skills) but at age 14, I was ready to up the ante a bit. It started slowly – I used old photographs and greeting cards, catalog clippings, some stickers, and my trusty gel pens to create one-of-a-kind collaged notecards. They were basic, but different, and the design always contained at least one word that denoted the type of card it was... so I called my makeshift business One Word Prints.

I had fun putting pieces together and creating themes, and began to fill a shoebox with scraps and mementos to have on hand for future art, and I took several art classes. As my love for collage grew over the years, so did the size of my projects. I made framed prints, journals, mini 'scrapbooks' for friends, and of course, cards. Which pretty much brings us to present day. I don’t claim to be an expert in the field, but I know what looks right to me, what colors work together, and what makes me happy.

And my designs are just that – a mixture of associations, colors, and themes, inspired by my world, my experiences, and the things I find beautiful. But creating a beautiful, quirky, and unique product is just part of it. Authenticity is also a very important consideration as I make artistic choices. I want the materials I use to echo real life and to be pulled from real life, which is why I don’t subscribe to the “scrapbook” culture of pre-cut pieces, pre-printed papers, or cheesy stickers.

Each scrap I choose for a piece has been carefully collected, torn, and placed, so you can be certain that any collage of mine that you admire or collect has been handmade with love & care.