Harling Ross - My Tomayto

Since my summer internship is a big part of my life these days, I spend a good bit of time thinking about what I want to wear to work. Work outfits can pose certain difficulties for me seeing as I must reign in my rowdier sartorial leanings, so I'm one of those lay-it-out-the-night-before kind of freaks.

Thus, with the hope of opening up the challenge of dressing for work to further discussion outside my own brain, today is the first installment in a five-post series chronicling my office ensembles and the thought process behind them. Ultimately, I want to chat about the ways in which you can dress appropriately for work without sacrificing style. While I am working in fashion this summer and therefore my office dress code veers toward the flexible, I think the techniques for creating a look that is not only suitable for the workplace but also visually interesting are pretty universal. For each post in the series, I will introduce a different technique. You can just sit back, relax, and throw popcorn at me.

For my first look, I decided to explore one of my failsafe office style tactics: borrowing from the boys. In this case, the borrowing was quite literal: I swiped a blazer from my dad's closet. (NB: the prospect of sharing clothes is a strange yet effective antidote to any daughterly psycho-traumas related to growing up with a petite father).

The best thing about a slightly-too-big-just-don't-care men's blazer is the versatility it can give an outfit--even something as simple as draping it over your shoulders or tying it around your waist immediately changes the entire look, taking you from the office to post-work drinks with friends in one swooping swoop.

In general, I think the key to incorporating menswear touches into a workplace ensemble is picking one masculine statement item and building around it, or else you risk looking too kitschy. I chose a jacket, but alternatively you might opt for a great pair of tailored slacks, a crisply oversized white button down shirt, a cable knit cotton sweater vest, or even leather loafers. It goes without saying that your menswear piece of choice doesn't actually have to be made for or owned by a man. A lot of women's clothing is inspired by menswear, so you can probably even shop your own closet.

Menswear pieces are great for the office because they typically have a lot of structure, which automatically raises your outfit to a certain level of sophistication. There's a reason men have basically worn a variation of the same idea for centuries, and there's a reason We With The Bra Straps are plundering their style more and more--menswear is polished without trying, and that's kind of enchanting.

Obviously I like to weave in some contrast care of a few feminine elements as well (cue floral print dress and lace-up high heels), but I think it's safe to say the blazer still steals the show, if only because it takes up more than half my body and is a particularly alluring shade of sage.

Now tell me yo strategies, especially if you're one of those lady style freak magicians who can actually make ties look cool.

Brooks Brother's blazer, vintage Steven Stolman dress, Tabitha Simmons shoes, Hermes bracelet-turned choker.

For further LOLZ, awkward silences, and tomayto throwing, follow me on twitter and instagram.

Wouldn't it be nice if we could simply sashay into our places of work dressed in old, butter soft pajama tops and fleeced sweatpants with elastic waistbands so compellingly stretchy they could easily accommodate all nine months of gestating another human plus a couple burritos?

Perhaps there is an office out there at which this kind of sartorial behavior is permitted--even embraced--but in a world where Mark Zuckerberg gets flack for daring to wear a hoody to his meetings, it's logical to conclude that workplace style norms fall in a more formal camp.

As a general rule, structure tends to be a key characteristic of formal style. Tailoring, seams, darts, boning, stiffer fabrics--these structural elements give clothing a certain polish that will pretty much automatically put your outfit in a sophisticated and office-appropriate category.

Today, in the second installment in my five-post series on dressing for work, I am demonstrating these [bold and wild] claims by way of an Alaia dress so majestically boned and fitted it is practically workplace style on steroids. When I wear it I feel like a slightly toned-down Effie Trinket en route to admonish Katniss for her misplaced hair strands an conquer my summer internship while I'm at it.

A great, well-structured dress (a.k.a. no bandage numbers) that fits you perfectly (a.k.a. the opposite of what you wear while consuming cookie dough) is a staple piece for any office wardrobe, methinks. This particular dress gets bonus points for demurely covering my kneecaps and making me feel like Betty Draper pre-divorce.

Ideally, your super cool structured work dress of choice should be simple enough that you can wear it every week and make it look different each time. In this case, adding a colorful vest and white pumps instantly changes my entire look even though I'm still wearing the same dress. Piling on some interesting jewelry or a rad cropped jacket would have a similar effect.

Plus, there's something to be said for the state of mind that structured clothing seems to engender, at least for me. I feel focused. Sophisticated. Sharp. Ready to work while simultaneously looking the part, and that's a pretty powerful thing, even if it's all in my head.

Alaia dress, Tory Burch sandals, Trina Turk vest, H&M pumps.

For further LOLZ, awkward silences, and tomayto throwing, follow me on twitter and instagram.

I embrace MANY if not MOST stereotypical expressions of womanhood, from heart-ing hummus to frequently comparing my leg stubble with that of other ladies purely for sport. In light of these self-confessed tendencies and my recently documented efforts to examine workplace fashion, I felt compelled to address perhaps the truest embodiment of female existence in the context of office style. Yes, m'ams and sirs, today, in the third installment of a five-post series on dressing for work, we will be taking a gander at what is widely recognized as THE definitive staple of professional women everywhere: pencil skirts.

What is it about a pencil skirt that practically shouts, "Yo, wear me to your place of work, girl"? (And what is it about my brain that prompts me to personify fabric?). After giving it some thought, I'd have to say that the pencil skirt has become such a universal symbol of working women's style because it happens to possess two very significant characteristics that do not often simultaneously occur in an article of clothing: 1) it accentuates and (dare I say) celebrates the female form in ways that should be obvious and 2) it is still quite conservative. Boom magic formula?? I think yes.

With that inimitable combination of utter femininity and tailored professionalism, the pencil skirt reigns supreme among workplace wears.

And lucky for us 21-century adopters, pencil skirts just keep getting better and better. Cooler and cooler. Niftier and niftier. They now come in awesome, out-of-the-box prints (I'm looking at you, Peter Pilotto and Clover Canyon), and they've also acquired a fresher, younger appeal with endless possibilities for versatile styling thanks to mavens like Jenna Lyons whose sequined-pencil-skirt-cum-white-crewneck-tee pairings have morning commutes looking a lot more exciting.

Today I opted for a more casual ensemble care of a half-tucked gray t-shirt, but the beauty of a good pencil skirt is that is looks great with pretty much anything, from a muscle tank to a classic button down.

I think what we have on our hands is something I like to call a "Work Style No Brainer Item" (you can compliment my knack for original phrasing whenever). Get on board, people.

Club Monaco t-shirt, Etro skirt, Miu Miu pumps.

For further LOLZ, awkward silences, and tomayto throwing, follow me on twitter and instagram.

Pause for a minute and conjure in your mind the image of 2013's prototypical working woman. What does she look like?

Answers to that question would probably be pretty diverse, but I'm guessing they'd all share at least one significant commonality: Severe Pattern Deficiency (SPD). I won't deny the simplistic appeal of a black skirt and white blouse, or a navy suit, or a charcoal grey sheath dress, but I would also like to make the point that professional workplace fashion CAN and SHOULD include patterns! And not just unassuming florals or sedate stripes--I'm talking bold patterns--real eye-socket shockers. Statement-making, fun, and colorful patterns mixed together and spun into unexpected creations that skate the fine line between clashing and captivating.

Yes, friends. Patterns are toterly allowed in the office. Hence, for my fourth installment in a five-post series on dressing for work, I will be force-feeding you indoor-labor-appropriate pattern combinations like it's my job (GET IT?? Please laugh.) The key to pulling off a mixed pattern work look is maintaining sophistication--which means avoiding Everything But The Kitchen Sink Syndrome (another very real disease I contract on average 1-3 times per closet visit).

Here's the ish: when it comes to dressing for work, women tend to equate professional with, well, boring. (I blame infomericals. And the Taliban.) Nevertheless, HEED ME when I say it is very possible to get rowdy with prints and remain office-appropriate. Heed me. HEED ME. (Okay now punch me.)

Rules and methods for mixing patterns abound, but I fall into a hippy dippier blending camp involving my wardrobe, a blindfold, and tequila.

JK, MAN. My advice is to contemplate the direction of your outfit and select pieces that share a similar or complementary characteristic--like color palette or pattern scale. Each article of clothing you're wearing should relate to the whole picture in some way.

Using my outfit today as an example, you can see that the jacket and skirt have a similar, small-scale pattern structure. Also, since they both feature a neutral color palette, I can go kind of nuts with other aspects of my ensemble--ergo, the introduction of my crazy paisley violet shirt a.k.a. fashionable vertigo.

All in a days work, my friends. (GET IT?? Please laugh--one more time.)

J. Crew jacket, Etro shirt, Herve Leger skirt, Jour shoes, bracelet from Italy.

For further LOLZ, awkward silences, and tomayto throwing, follow me on twitter and instagram.

For my fifth and final installment in a five-post series on dressing for work, I attempt to successfully climb the high-heeled Everest of office style challenges: wearing a skirt suit. Oui, freaks. This is real and it is happening. What's more, not only am I wearing a skirt suit, I am wearing a semi-vintage-y skirt suit with a consequential potential for early aughts stodginess that is only amplified by the fact that the skirt portion of the suit in question is visibly a bit long on me. Such are the hardships one must face when raiding the closet of a significantly taller maternal figure.

At any rate, I needed a knee-slapper finale for my dressing for work blog post series, and the skirt suit called to my loins from the depths of my mother's armoire. "Have your way with me," it beckoned. My 21-year-old brain said no but my middle-school-headmistress-circa-2000 heart said yes.

And dudes, the inner headmistress always wins.

That being said, making the skirt suit look more youthful was my biggest hurdle. As always, I wanted to put together an outfit that any dope Gen Y ladyperson in her life's prime (like myself obvs) would be excited about wearing right here and right now. So I went on an aggressive counterattack against the suit's capacity for stuffiness. My weapons of choice? A graphic tee and cool-ass medallion necklace.

Low and behold, with these additions the skirt suit looked like it had just returned from a guest stint on TLC's now-defunct television sensation 10 Years Younger, which is an unnecessarily weird way of saying that the suit was now suitable to outfit my young and zesty professional self.

So here's my advice, kidz: embrace the skirt suit, but make sure you de-Margaret-Thatcher-ize it first. Opt for t-shirts, funky shoes, and blinged out hardware. Beware of silk camisoles, kitten heels, and pearls.

AND THAT'S A WRAP. Go do work.

Chanel skirt suit, Zara t-shirt, BCBG pumps, vintage medallion.

For further LOLZ, awkward silences, and tomayto throwing, follow me on twitter and instagram.

Guys! It's August 1st, my internship is almost over, and yesterday I received a SENIOR PACKET from my institute of education in the mail. Where has the freaking time gone?? would probably be a really cliche thing to say right now, so instead should we just go ahead and talk about the above Elle France editorial from 1977?

First of all: I know, I know, there's a boob. I saw it, you saw it, the person who happened to be passing behind your desk at work saw it. But now that we've acknowledged the presence of secondary sex characteristics, can we please discuss the amazingness of these photographs by Oliviero Toscani? Because they are very possibly the best thing since sliced Challah bread made into French toast. How can I even describe the aesthetic exhibited in this shoot? Daisy Buchanan meets Little House on the Prairie meets Lawrence of Arabia meets South of France meets wallpapering man? That's the best I can do at this juncture of fragile mental limbo that falls somewhere in between still digesting what these images mean to my style evolution and make me look like that immediately.

So what is it that draws me to this editorial so viscerally? In part, I am obsessed with the effortlessness of it all--the undone buttons, cuffed shorts, rolled sleeves, knotted shirts, lopsided bow tie, obvious wrinkles, and akimbo nipples. It exudes a sense of haphazard, waifish cool that is styled yet still believable. Paradoxically, its glamor is the consequence of its simplicity. Not trying is always, always the new black. And in this case, the new white. I love how the fashion here is not ironic at all, yet it manages to convey a distinct sense of humor. Where is 2013's version of that subtlety?!

I think that on the eve of big life changes and my consequential effort to hang on to every last ounce of this particular summer while it lasts, I'm craving style that transcends current trends and exists outside what I tend to see over and over again on the internet and modern magazines. In fact, I don't even want a particular style, I want a particular IT--or more precisely HER. I want to step into the persona and the feeling that these photos embody for me, the visual story of a woman whose confidence is not a product of what she wears, but rather, the source of it.

Hopefully you are able to empathize with what I believe to be the often interchangeable evolutions of life and style in my subconscious. If not, can we at least develop some kind of inside joke about the majestic appeal of a glittering lizard-adorned crotch?

For further LOLZ, awkward silences, and tomayto throwing, follow me on twitter and instagram.

side part, big hair, blonde, wavy, jean jacket, romper, vintage, 90s

Dudes. Something rad is going on with my hair right now. It's got kind of a "Drew Barrymore in the 90s if she was your babysitter" type vibe. Big, blond, and uncharacteristically piecey, my mane is newly conducive to creating that epic, tossed-over swoosh perfected by the likes of Molly Ringwald in her Brat Pack heyday and Michaela Bercu on Anna Wintour's first Vogue cover. In other words, I have suddenly entered into a league of cool girls with the best bedhead there ever was. The bad news is that my freshly minted status is undoubtedly temporary--only as good as my next hair washing. Unless of course I take the necessary steps to recreate my current hair situation, which I will obviously detail for you below because this is a teaching blog for teaching stuff:

Step one: Whip out your musical listening device of choice and put on some topnotch tunes. I am a big fan of Songza's "Vodka Escapades: Ladies Be Pre-Gaming" playlist which, yes, is a real thing and probably a full 8 on the 1-10 scale of possibly insulting, but ultimately it's a great collection of songs for exercising your body.

Step two: Go for a run. Or, you know, move around a bit until you achieve a medium amount of sweatiness.

Step three: Take a shower and haphazardly wash your hair so that it is undecidedly clean yet decidedly reeking of rose petals. After toweling off, slather your locks in buckets of Moroccan Oil.

Step four: Get your mother or parent of choice to insist on your presence at a black tie ball for which you will need to get your hair put into an updo of the "polished Lynette Scavo" in the front and "outdoor wedding" in the back variety.

Step five: Actually end up having a good time at said black tie ball (against your will), therefore prompting you to literally dance like no one's watching even though lots of people are watching until the band stops at midnight.

Step six: Fall asleep without taking down your updo.

Step seven: Wake up feeling like someone who's just slept with her hair in an updo.

Step eight: Ignoring the soreness that will be radiating throughout your neck area, remove the 1,000,000 bobby pins that were conscripted to hold your hair creation in place the night before.

Step nine: Smooth out any nests and/or apartment complexes and/or tangles.

Step ten: Freak out because your infamously difficult hair has never looked so cool. Run around your house and force all of your relatives to acknowledge that you have achieved the holy grail of textured nonchalance atop your head. Contemplate ringing up Daria Werbowy and being all hey girl, I know ur secrets. Finally, sit down on a soft surface and come to terms with the knowledge that your hair will probably never look this perfectly un-perfect ever again. Carpe diem accordingly.

drew barrymore, kate moss, 90s, big hair, side part, biker chic, jean jacket

georgia may jagger, editorial, side part, big hair, pink lipstick, all black, mini skirt

So, friends, that's what I'm doing. I'm carpe-ing the freaking diem out of this hair situation while it lasts. Case in point: yesterday's post-work playtime ensemble (pictured at top) was inspired by my new hair's kinship with the child stars of the 80s and 90s, hence the highlighter floral print and oversized denim jacket. Tonight I might opt for a Georgia May Jagger look with big earrings, bright lips, and a mini skirt. Tomorrow, maybe my hair's inner Kate Moss will emerge with an all-leather ensemble worthy of her best biker-chic outings (summer weather can suck it--this hair is bigger than all of us).

At some point, will a kind friend please come pry the dry shampoo out of my cold, dead hands?

For further LOLZ, awkward silences, and tomayto throwing, follow me on twitter and instagram.

For as long as I can remember, my mom has been a frequent wearer of big hats. When asked, she claims this habit was not in force until her more mature years--a solution to repairing or at least discontinuing the damage wrought by many youthful summers laying out to roast and a lifelong aversion to the greasy sheen of your average sunscreen that she maintains to this day.

Furthermore, my mother's dedication to statement hats, like all of her more permanent style fixations, has manifested itself in the form of a very extensive and diverse collection. She has hats for her hats, this woman. And each one is different: plain straw, zestily patterned, visored, clay bead-adorned, striped, upturned, downturned, felt-tipped...in their entirety, they could conceivably constitute the stylistic marriage of Scarlett O'Hara (the early years) and Dr. Seuss Does Easter.

For the longest time, I turned my nose up at the idea of wearing hats. "Put this on! Your nose is getting sunburnt," my mom would advise, offering me a stiff red straw sombrero-gone-rogue from her plentiful reserves. "No thanks, former womb," I'd reply, "I'm just gonna walk around with this towel draped over my face because it's a much cooler look and I am a teen."

However, friends, at the ripe age of 21, I will confess that the world of hats has taken on a sudden and infinite appeal (whether or not this change in perspective is related to my exit from teendom is yours to say--but aren't most auspicious things?)

It's true though, I am all the about the hats right now. Big hats, small hats, cool hats, fat hats I LOVE THEM ALL and no this is not the introductory sentence to a politically correct children's book that discusses the importance of diversity and acceptance in metaphorical terms (although I could write that so hire me). For the time being, I am talking about real live hats on hats on hats on my very literal head.

A nifty thing I like to do to accommodate both my hat obsession and intractable millenial narcissism is wear particular hats that correspond to particular emotions or moods. Like, this past weekend I was feeling very low-key and semi-nautical because it's summer vacation and I'm in Rhode Island (yo), so I walked around in a faded blue baseball baseball cap emblazoned with a tiny sailboat, possibly making an ass of myself because the shape of my face is ill-suited to the confines of your average baseball cap but not caring because I'm a feminist style pioneer does that make sense??? Alternatively, I might opt for a visor when I'm vibe-ing on irony, an oversized straw sunhat when I am feeling languidly mature, and a cowboy hat on days when my insanely DGAF, fun-loving persona manages to temporarily overwhelm my usually dominant potential for anxious introspection and sarcastic commentary!

What I'm trying to tell you is please stop wearing your hearts on your sleeves, noobs, and start wearing them on your heads. It's modern, super fun, and medically guaranteed to strengthen your brain muscles.

(JOIN ME):

From left to right: Kreisi Couture, Lanvin, Asos, Eugenia Kim, Roxy, Florabella, BCBG, Eugenia Kim, Lalu, Polo Ralph Lauren, Anthony Peto. (NB: I purposefully excluded beanies from this round-up because IT'S STILL SUMMER, you animals).

For further LOLZ, awkward silences, and tomayto throwing, follow me on twitter and instagram.

summer fashion, mixing prints, liberty of london, isabel marant, theory

So, why reluctant? People, fans, & lovers: calm down I'm about to tell you.

I'm kind of basically pretty much over summer fashion. I'm sick of tank tops and sandals and pastels. I'm ready for cable-knit sweaters and loafers and oxblood. BUT I am also aware that it's totally still August, the beaches of America continue to draw crowds of human specimens, birds are chirping with seasonal glee, and temperatures seem likely to remain balmy for the foreseeable future.

summer fashion, mixing prints, liberty of london, isabel marant, theory, marilyn monroe, skirt blowing up

Ergo, I'll give you airy cotton even though I'm dreaming of mohair. I'll throw in a floral print or two despite the fact that my fantasies are currently devoted to black watch plaid and tweed. I'll limit myself to a single layered-on jacket, but I could easily pile on three more (FYI).

summer fashion, mixing prints, liberty of london, isabel marant, theory, legs, suede sandals

Blah blah blah mix up some prints, stick on a pair of sunglasses, grab a cool necklace for pizzazz purposes and you're good to go. You get the picture. Summer fashion. Woot. We're done here.

Now can we talk about how what I really want to do is hole up in my room with the air conditioning on full blast and wear lots and lots of sweaters? And knee socks? And a neoprene turtleneck? Let's all do it together and live tweet our experience with glove-adorned fingers.

summer fashion, mixing prints, liberty of london, isabel marant, theory, blonde hair, beachy waves, statement necklace

So anyways there's your summer fashion post. But dammit if it wasn't reluctant.

(P.S. should I just shut up and go eat a popsicle already??)

Theory jacket, Etoile Isabel Marant blouse (available on eBay), Liberty of London skirt, ISLO Isabella Lorusso shoes, R.J. Graziano necklace, Anthropologie sunglasses.

For further LOLZ, awkward silences, and tomayto throwing, follow me on twitter and instagram.

From ages 5 to 14, I attended an all-girls day school in New York City. It was there that I received your typical late 90s/early aughts education, from perfecting the art of--(wait for it)--cursive to anxiously digesting our sixth grade supervisor's announcement that it was time to start wearing deodorant. Now that my brain is on the brink of graduating, I can say that these formative years of schooling alongside my fellow female creatures served me well--I can read and write and play Cat's Cradle and even do some math stuff. But important curriculum staples aside, my time there blessed me with an entirely different yet equally life-enhancing skill.

You see, from ages 5 to 14, I also had to wear a strictly enforced uniform. My school's dress code was pretty standard fare--pleated jumpers and blouses in lower school, kilts and collared shirts in middle and upper school. I essentially spent my days surrounded by varying shades of green.

Note my sultry sock-rolling technique

So getting back to the point of this endearing narrative, I learned a special skill: how to maintain a unique sense of style amidst a sea of (very literal) uniformity. Ladies and g's, it was not an easy task. It took many years and many cafeteria muffins to perfect, including some inevitable trial and error. Take the time in fourth grade I decided to forego the green uniform shorts we were required to wear underneath our green uniform kilts. What an innovative choice! A bold and silent rebellion! I thought to myself. That afternoon, my entire class received the rare privilege of visiting nearby Carl Schurz park as a mid-day treat. Being an excitable and limber burgeoning adolescent, I headed straight for the monkey bars and promptly swung myself up so that I was perched on top of them, legs dangling. At that exact moment, our chaperone (30-something Irish Catholic cop-resembling male science teacher and incidental girlhood crush of yours truly) decided to look up.

Babies cried. The sky darkened. Jesus laughed. The teacher delicately reminded me that we were supposed to wear green uniform shorts under our green uniform kilts.

Learn from the blunders of others, people! Whether you're a kilt-clad student or a denizen of some other uniformed lifestyle (e.g. bobsled team member, lifeguard, investment banker, candy striper), heed my words and treasure these nuggets of stylistic wisdom. From the depths of my humble experience, here are SEVEN foolproof methods for exhibiting zesty fashion statements while remaining in uniform and even concealing your underwear:

1) Accessorize. This is an obvious one. If clothing options are out of your hands, at least slap on some stupid-cool bracelets and rings to mask their helplessness.

2) Apply fake tattoos. Subtle smiley face on your ankle? Obnoxiously humongous dragon around your torso? Guys, guys, guys: you get to choose.

3) Put on some patterned socks or tights. I'm talking polka dots here, people. Alternatively--on a bold day--pink camo.

4) Get creative with fingernail polish. Self-explanatory instructional media here and here.

5) Make your hair awesome-er. Ideas: clip-in purple streak, Baby Spice pigtails, dreadlocks.

6) Wear your feelings on your face. By which I mean, do fun stuff with makeup. Nothing says uniform? what uniform? like a rebellious red lip.

7) Embellish. Three words: glue, rhinestones, go.

If you get any flack whatsoever from figures of authority real or imagined, please direct them to this blog.

For further LOLZ, awkward silences, and tomayto throwing, follow me on twitter and instagram.

STOP WHATEVER YOU ARE DOING, ANIMALS. Put down your utensils and sign off of twitter. Take a seat and hold your breath. I am in possession of some major information.

After many moons of careful research and testing, I finally found a fresh solution for ushering an outfit from day to night! Despite what many fashion magazine columns and Google searches might have you believe, the key to accomplishing this delicate transition is not portable eyeshadow or a statement necklace or even bra straps that change color according to how many alcoholic beverages you've consumed.

Patient friends, the answer is quite simple: a detachable collar.

Unconventional, I know. But hear me out.

When I spied this Missoni dress on The Outnet and added it to my shopping cart in a panicky haze induced by the website's warnings that only one was left in my size, I didn't fully process the fact that its collar was removable. Little did I know that a revolutionary solution to the demands of a 24-hour sartorial cycle was about to arrive on my doorstep. A few days later, I unpacked the dress and examined its unique neck attachment. It slowly dawned on me that what I held in my hands was pure, unadulterated, functional genius.

With the collar on, the dress is perfect for daytime. It has a quirky, almost Wednesday Addams-esque vibe that I am really digging for fall. When I wear it I feel a sharply dressed toddler à la Alexa Chung, and that's all I can ever ask for. With the additional help of some Superga sneakers and a cropped sweater, I'm good to go from morning to late afternoon.

Once the evening has officially begun, I can snap off the collar with the practiced flourish of an elderly Burlesque dancer. It's super fun and scandalous. Collar-less, the dress is ideal nighttime attire. It instantly jumps from casual to polished like some kind of magical unicorn. Throw a blazer, heels, and a furry creature purse into the mix and you've got yourself a Grade A ensemble for post-sundown activities.

So there you have it. The solution to one of womankind's greatest conundrums in under 500 words. As a reward, I only ask for a somewhat large trophy and also maybe an iPad.

For further LOLZ, awkward silences, and tomayto throwing, follow me on twitter and instagram.

And so, like the resolute bralessness of my 90-year-old grandmother, September is in full swing once more. As such, I am back in DC for senior year schoolage and if you think the consistently stifling humidity is going to stop me from fully committing my mind particles to the intensive think process that is fall fashion you are gravely mistaken and possibly weird. At this point in the My Tomayto timeline, we have pretty much fully established that fashion is, more often than not, a question of identity. When I ask myself "how should I dress?" what I really mean is "who do I want to be?" With the onset of fall, this sentiment rings truer than ever. Instead of identifying with individual brands like I did this summer (cough Isabel Marant cough sneeze cough jazz hands cough), September has engendered a phase in which I find myself gleaning inspiration from specific stylistic personas. These personas are mashups of runway offerings, street style smatterings, and my general mood du jour. They are what I want to wear and who I want to be. Literally.

So, good people of planet Earth, allow me to introduce you to my strange and beautiful assembly.

1) Wednesday Addams

wednesday addams, alexa chung, peter pan collar, trench coat, ankle booties, shirt dress, ear cuff, headband

I was never much of an Addams Family fan (they creep me out), but I can definitely get behind Wednesday's girlishly somber style. My interest in her iconic garb is most likely the direct result of my newfound obsession with Peter Pan collars. I can't get enough of them. To transition the Wednesday look into 2013's version of nonfictional life, I gave it a quasi-Alexa Chung vibe courtesy of a trench and rad ear cuff. I think the above collage maintains the best of Wednesday's aesthetic (see: aforementioned collar; black dress; macabre innocence) while circumventing any potential for costume-y-ness.

The Kooples dress, Steven Alan trench coat, Topshop boots, Annelise Michelson ear cuff, vintage Chanel headband.

2) Off duty model

off duty model, cara delevigne, beats headphones, waxed skinny jeans, oversized coat, saucony sneakers

I can never pursue a modeling career on account of my unpronounced cheekbones. Yes that is the only reason also please don't worry my mom still thinks I'm perfect. However, this crushing reality check does not preclude me from stealing the mode of dressing that so many models have come to adopt as their "off duty" look: tomboyish tanks, skinny jeans, sneakers, and a coat so oversized it could easily accommodate two of these genetically blessed runway stompers. Huge, trendy headphones are an additional staple seeing as models prefer to drown out the sound of laypeople chewing their food with the dulcet sounds of Taylor Swift's vocal chords. Kidding! Sometimes they listen to Drake.

Zara tank, Étoile Isabel Marant coat, sass & bide jeans, Saucony sneakers, Beats by Dr. Dre headphones.

3) Scottish lass

plaid, kilt, cropped sweatshirt, elizabeth and james, fall style, fall fashion

I'm also really into plaid right now. Plaid? For fall?? HAHAHA O THE HUMOR. Alright so wearing plaid is not the most radical seasonal style cue, but I will take it to the next level by suggesting that you dress yourself in a full-on uniform of tartans and checks. Do Gwen Stefani proud.

Elizabeth and James sweatshirt, Joseph skirt, DSQUARED2 pumps.

4) Fashion-conscious Italian male

menswear, italian men, the sartorialist, fall style, fall fashion, tailoring, monk shoes, oversized cardigan, shirt dress

DO YOU read The Sartorialist? Scott Schuman's pioneering street style blog is a bastion of imagery displaying fashionable folks (both famous and not) doing fashionable things (i.e. walking, texting, gazing into the distance). Recently though I am particularly enamored with the pictures of men that appear on this site. Namely, Italian men. If the first thing that popped into your head when I said Italian men is a tableau of some oiled up skinny dudes in skintight soccer t-shirts and cuffed denim capris... okay, okay, VALID, but I'm talking about a different breed here, people. Same tiny European country, totally different aesthetic. They coexist side by side. It's like a Dr. Seuess book or something. Anyways, the Italian men that are featured on The Sartorialist have impeccable style. Theirs is a rare, perfect world that successfully favors quality over quantity. Think impeccable tailoring, rich colors, and consistently awesome loafers.

Tsumori Chisato shirt dress, Acne cardigan, Attilio Giusti Leombruni loafers, Marni necklace.

5) Phoebe Philo's lady

phoebe philo, celine, stella mccartney, jil sander, see by chloe, fall style, fall fashion, sophisticated, turtleneck sweater, midi skirt

For the uninitiated, Phoebe Philo is the Creative Director of Celine. She is everything. Her vision of femininity and style is the bomb, and this fall, I am deeply interested in becoming a product of her well-documented genius. In an ideal world I would simply be Daria Werbowy, but since that is not a likely possibility, I will settle for emulation. Based on the contents of Celine's recent collections, I can deduce that Philo's lady is a creature of clean yet edgy sophistication. Said lady opts for heavy, luxe fabrics. She can wear both classic and unconventional silhouettes. She somehow makes a completely neutral color palette seem bold instead of boring. She has no desire to dress like a teenager. (FYI: I purposefully avoided using any clothing from Celine to create the collage for this persona because I wanted this outfit to be less about the brand and more about Philo's vision-- aspects of which can be found in many places. Want a shortcut? Google Zara's fall 2013 look book.)

Stella McCartney turtleneck sweater, Jil Sander skirt, See by Chloe ankle boots.

For further LOLZ, awkward silences, and tomayto throwing, follow me on twitter and instagram.

gossip girl, back to school, fashion, style, primary colors, preppy, uniforms

For those of you who still partake in the wonders of institutionalized education, do you have any criteria for what you wear to class? As a college student, I place a big emphasis on comfort (see: the opposite of how characters on Gossip Girl dressed for school). ZOMG COMFORT?? COLLEGE?? REVOLUTIONARY! I know, I know. But seriously, sitting through an hour-long lecture in skintight shorts or boots that make my feet ache is never, ever fun. Same goes for wearing bracelets that jingle too much when I'm writing or a really itchy sweater or too many layers or a super cinched dress that requires special posture in order for breathing to occur. It's hard to concentrate on how many dactyls are in a line of poetry when all you want to do is remove your clothing as soon as possible, right?! I still have mild PTSD from a particularly long chemistry lab and a particularly unforgiving waistband.

So yes, while I will readily sacrifice many physical comforts for the sake of wearing amazing 6-inch heels to a party (worth it) or a corseted top when I'm going out to dinner (double worth it), at this point in my educational career I try to avoid any fashion-induced irritation during class. I like to be able to slump in my chair uninhibited when I'm taking notes and jog with ease to the nearest coffee shop between commitments and hoist my backpack over my shoulders without worrying about tearing something. Aren't I an absolute treasure??

That being said, I don't just walk around wearing Lululemon all the time. C'MON GUYS. That would booorrriinnggg. My love for comfort and my love for clothes are not mutually exclusive, even when I'm at school (excepting that time I studied abroad and became a complete slob!). I'm not saying that I always look like the bee's knees at 9 a.m. or whatever, but most of the time I still have a lot of fun getting dressed. Comfortably.

As such, I'm gonna put my money where my mouth is by which I mean I'm gonna put my hopefully interesting school wardrobe choices where my body is by which I mean I will be documenting what I wear to classes for the next week ON THIS BLOG. Did you get all of that? Starting Monday, you will be privy to the stuff that clothes me and the thought process behind it as I make my merry way to class. You will get behind-the-scenes info on what I'm wearing and why. You will watch as I masterfully combine comfort and style like some kind of real life Hermione Granger magic person. It will be grand. Maybe I'll even discuss my recent confrontations with adult acne because this is a sharing blog for sharing things. ONLY TIME WILL TELL. Who's excited!?!?

P.S. If anyone is wondering why I am awake right now despite going out last night and not having Friday classes, it is because my neighbors own a demon terrier birthed straight from the underworld whose barking knows no fatigue or shame. I'm open to suggestions re: silencing it forever but maybe not with violence because I actually like dogs.

For further LOLZ, awkward silences, and tomayto throwing, follow me on twitter and instagram.

denim pencil skirt, zara, school style, school fashion, back to school, steve madden, blonde

Happy MONDAY, ya dopes. For the commencement of our made-4-school outfit postings, I give you: that time I tried real hard to make a denim pencil skirt work for school and accidentally ended up looking kind of like a polygamist!

But hey, yo, trial and error is a beautiful part of this life we live unless you happen to be a plastic surgeon for celebs or a professional diamond chiseler.

So anyways, my attire. I was striving for French countryside chic--sort of an earthy Sandricourt with a dash of "I baked seven crusty baguettes this morning which is why I smell like flour and sensuality." Yah know? Instead I might have landed myself squarely in the coveted position of sister wife #3. You could also argue that I actually look more like a mom tourist on vacay in the big city with my sensible skirt and strong will to survive, but I would really need to be wearing Tevas to make that persona plausible.

Or maybe, maybe, there is there more to this outfit than meets the eye. Perhaps you can detect a slight nod to Isabel Marant on top and an echo of Acne on the bottom? Hmm?? Hopefully my classmates will think so. But what are YOUR thoughts? Please keep in mind that I use self-disparagement as a shield and all I want is your undying validation and love and maybe a cozy suburban home and a couple of kids and surround sound speakers.

Something I realized today while deciding what to wear under the duress of a promised back-to-school special of outfit posts is that it's really not always easy to simultaneously feel comfortable and look interesting and blog-worthy and school appropriate, especially when the weather is insane bananas hot and a jorts/tank top combo seems like the obvious choice. In fact, it can be downright challenging. This denim pencil skirt begs for heels and a cropped jacket, but I had to forgo these delicacies in favor of both being able to walk to class and managing my body temperature. Practicality, man.

Soooo day one of my back to school ensemble parade: thumbs up or thumbs up? I'm clearly having a tough time deciding.

Zara blouse, Zara denim pencil skirt, Steve Madden sandals, Hermes bracelet repurposed as a choker.

For further LOLZ, awkward silences, and tomayto throwing, follow me on twitter and instagram.

the kooples, loafers, camo, red piped, moccasins, slippers, school style, fall fashion, back to school, zara, kelly wearstler

September is here, school has started, and you are in need of some comfortable yet awesome footwear suited to your scholarly pursuits of walking to and from class, posing next to giant inflatable mascots, and squashing mosquitos. You are also a) sick of wearing sandals all the time because it's fall now dammit b) lovingly embarrassed by how much you've already worn your Supergas or comfy-chic sneaker equivalent in the last two weeks c) uninterested in the completely barefoot lifestyle of monks and that weird kid on facebook or d) all of the above. SO WHADDYA GONNA DO?

Day 2 of my back to school style postings is here to answer that question, because I love a good fashion quandary and they tend to love me back, especially when it comes to blog content.

LOAFERS, people! Moccasins, brogues, oxfords, and slippers are also acceptable answers here. A good loafer is the ultimate back to school staple in the sense that it literally carries you out of summer and into the autumnal months with a dapper 'tude that is pretty much unmatched by any other seasonal footwear option. (If my fruity shoe hyperbole in that last statement made you want to gag, I'm afraid you are not ready for what I have to say. Retreat to your rainbow flip-flops and go build a last-ditch sandcastle.)

I am particularly obsessed with this pair of loafers that I purchased at The Kooples when I studied abroad in London last semester. First of all, they are composed of red-piped camo. Second of all, they ushered in a new, post-wedge sneakers era for my feet, and that is no small matter.

For my loafer look today I am rocking a fall color palette worthy of four weeks from now when it actually starts to feel like fall. Truth be told, I might change out of this leather skirt and into jean shorts later because my upper leg quadrant is feeling kind of toasty. In the meantime, I am enjoying the marriage of contrasts between my ironically faux-sporty tee, edgy yet still feminine skirt, and metro masculine loafs. All I need now is my signature Model Student facial expression of loin-burning intellectual curiosity, and I'll be ready for class.

Zara t-shirt, Kelly Wearstler skirt, The Kooples loafers.

For further LOLZ, awkward silences, and tomayto throwing, follow me on twitter and instagram.

Is there anything as magnificent as a super comfortable dress? Tell me you know what I'm talking about, people. (A casual cotton masterpiece so freaking flowy it always has your back circa five hours into the day when your slowly slumping physique needs an extra dosage of mystery?? A dress so easy and lounge-worthy it makes you want to forgo the crotch-digging antics of shorts FOREVERMORE??)

I'd say that most female humans with whom I happen to be acquainted own at least one go-to comfy dress and if YOU do not your bod has not yet tasted the taste of true freedom which is a major shame and should be remedied immediately.

Personally, I possess multiple. They're that good. Let me tell you the reasons, in case you're unconvinced, weirdos. A comfy dress is a universal treasure not only because it will give you extreme power over mens in the sense that their legs are bound by inseams for eternity and yours are free to dance like tiny angels, but also because it is one of those elusive garments that both feels good AND looks good. Bonjour, happy marriage of form and functionality, amirite? The world and internets runneth over with comfortable, casual dresses that also happen to be downright appealing to the eyeballs. And! And! They're, like, absurdly time-saving. When you can reduce your outfit to a single item (give or take a jacket or shoe for added interest and/or necessity), you're adding minutes to your sleep cycles. BAM. Ergo, henceforth, and thus, the casual comfy dress is a perfect option for back-to-school ensemble renderings. Jesus and Harry Potter are hugging right now.

NB: Despite the probable structureless-ness and simplicity of your uber comfortable dress of choice, please don't be afraid of looking sack-like or boring as your make your classroom entrances because hello have you heard of colorful patterns and accessories?? Yes, yes you have. The dress I am wearing today is basically a tropical alcoholic beverage in cloth form. It also happens to feel like a weightless cloud of ease and joy hanging on my willing frame. Zest and comfort are not mutually exclusive: LESSON. For further embellishment, I've contributed my DIY cutout backless denim jacket, a couple of vintage Chanel flower brooches, studded gladiator sandals, and a ponytail so huge and high it could incubate another species. Man, school is cool.

Postella dress, Joe Fresh jacket with a DIY twist, Steve Madden sandals, zombie stare courtesy of my gene pool.

For further LOLZ, awkward silences, and tomayto throwing, follow me on twitter and instagram.

Guys, it's hot out. You get it, I get it, we all get it. Temps topped 90 degrees today in DC, and I am needing to purchase some new deodorant A.S.A.P. because I dropped mine this morning and it broke all over the floor and I had to get real creative with my application process. Yeah. My subsequent walk to class across campus felt vaguely like sealing myself into an envelope filled with pure oppression. All for learning!

Yet hold the phone, young ones. It might be steamy outside, but it is actually very very chilly inside. This weather differentiation is artificially orchestrated thanks to the modern wonders of air conditioning. Just FYI. You might very well be sweating from your widow's peak to your ankle bones until you enter a building and suddenly BOOM you've apparated to Kate Upton's Sports Illustrated covershoot in Antarctica. Except you're not Kate Upton and you never will be.

SO anticipating these drastic temperature changes can pose somewhat of a challenge when it comes to getting dressed. But never fear, brethren, for we are all scholars here. My personal approach is to bring a spare jacket with me to and from my various commitments like a regular Swiss Army knife-carrying boy scout of burgeoning preparedness.

In case you are wondering, my mental activity surrounding said spare jacket goes something like this:

[Outside]

Why the ham did I think I would need this jacket it is hot as DRAGON MOUTH

[Inside]

Oh man goosebumps everywhere this jacket is my everything what is warmth?

Moral of my story? Bring the jacket. Even if your idiot, overheated self tries to convince you to leave it behind as you are walking out the door. TRUST.

Professional tip: to transport the jacket until it happens to be needed, tie that sucker around your waist. Your hips, being hips, are unlikely to perspire significantly.

Zara jeans, J. Crew top, Zara jacket, Dolce Vita sandals, Hermes bracelet-temporarily-turned-choker.

For further LOLZ, awkward silences, and tomayto throwing, follow me on twitter and instagram.

There's an elephant the size of Cara Delevingne's left eyebrow in the room that is this blog and it goes by the name of NEW YORK FASHION WEEK. Did you think I was ignoring it? Well, I kind of was. You see, as a mere layperson female specimen with an unimpressive inner-thigh-to-lower-ankle ratio who doesn't do stuff like wear sunglasses inside or shell out for the latest whimsical Sophia Webster clutch or tweet things to the tune of 200,000+ favorites or use under-eye concealer, I am confined to watching the various fashion week proceedings on my Instagram feed as opposed to from a tangible front row seat. NOTE: this is not me complaining! I love fashion week as rendered via social media. It's fun and filtered and there are no lines. Plus, I finish out every single day with nary a foot blister. Life is a crispy and golden nugget of contentment!

Nevertheless, my involuntarily removed voyeurism poses a slight problem in the sense that I write a fashion blog and thusly am somewhat obligated (by the demands of my very own self particles) to cover the happenings of fashion week(s). Because, hey, they are kind of important in the world that this blog portends to admire and discuss. Right? HOWEVER, loons, herein lies the problem: any runway summaries or trend round-ups that I have the secondhand capacity to provide could easily be found in far superior form on Style.com. Not only that, but I find these kinds of basic, ubiquitous collection rehashings to be majorly boring in most cases. I would much rather look at pictures of the looks in a collection myself and secondarily experience the show in a visual sense than read someone else's verbal takeaways, even if he or she was actually present at the runway.

Therefore, in favor of keeping your beloved eyeballs forever entertained and never, ever snoozy, I have made the executive decision that any fashion week coverage on My Tomayto must be a) unique, b) exceedingly interesting and important to the contents of human brains from here to Zimbabwe, and c) representative of my mostly weird and occasionally relevant outsider's perspective. OR I WILL NOT PUBLISH IT! Based on these illustrious criteria, I am hoping that anything fashion week-related that you read here will be the kind of zesty and original content that you can't find elsewhere on the internets. If I can't come up with anything worth your while, I'm sticking to the usual programming. Dealzies? I can't wait to continue our sensual journey together.

For further LOLZ, awkward silences, and tomayto throwing, follow me on twitter and instagram.

Tell me truly, friends and foes, is there anything more classic--more androgynously chic--more casually crisp--than a white button down shirt? It is one of the few articles of clothing that has never gone out of style. With the combination of its longstanding history as a go-to wardrobe staple and an uncanny ability to seem definitively "modern" in the context of pretty much any post-corset decade plucked at random, the white button down is an unquestionable power player. It is basically the fashion equivalent of your favorite, seemingly ageless great aunt who inevitably sharpens the minds of others with sound advice and salacious vocabulary lessons.

As you are most likely aware, many iconic females have donned the iconic white button down in times past and present. I mean, Diana Vreeland? Carolina Herrera? Uma Thurman as Mia Wallace? Legends. Nevertheless, the wearer's fame has never overshadowed the glory of the shirt. They are equal players. Co-conspirators in classic. Two muses contained in one lovefest. It's so rad. Are you feeling this moment with me??

Conversely, the white shirt is also a veritable wo(man) of the people. Not only is it the sartorial fodder of icons, but it is also a favorite of laypeople such as yours truly. Eternally reliable companion to the job interviewee, lady luncher, paint-splattered artist, leggy European, geek history major, and beach-bound goddess, a white button down takes everyman multitasking to a whole other level.

Ergo, when I personally put one on, I feel like a newborn babe full of historically chic potential and I'm all like LIFE, I AM YOUR CANVAS. PAINT ME.

Although I have worn my white button downs (yes, I do have multiple) with many different ensembles and for many different purposes (work, school, the circus, etc.), today's styling is pretty universally applicable. If you thought it couldn't get more classic than a white shirt, how about a white shirt paired with Levi's cutoff jean shorts and sneakers hmm?? I also threw in a red lip to keep you heathens on your toes. Now if only I had the prolific profile of Daria Werbowy and Stephanie Seymour's hand clutched tight against my gently chiseled midriff...

Ralph Lauren shirt, Levi's shorts, Superga sneakers, Venessa Arizaga friendship bracelets and some random ones from Morocco. Photo cred: JPC.

For further LOLZ, awkward silences, and tomayto throwing, follow me on twitter and instagram.

Ironic fashion is a lot like candy corn: cheap, kitschy, confusing to most people over the age of 30, deliciously artificial, easy to purchase in bulk, and temporally trendy.

So what happens when you eat too much candy corn? Well... you're probably going to want to brush your teeth.

DO YOU know what I mean??? Probably not. I'm terrible at metaphors. Plus, I'm talking about candy corn and it's not even October so I really need to cool it. BUT, beautiful insects, let me try to explain. Because this shiz is urgent business.

For the last year or so, I have been an eager consumer of ironic fashion. I bought the graphic t-shirts, I wore a sequined sweatshirt, I paired gym shorts with Givenchy, and I lusted after the Charlotte Olympia book clutches. In other words, I drank the effing kool-aid. And, guys, it was FUNZ. Thanks to irony, I was able to wear silk pajamas outside the privacy of my home and call it fashion, and for this I will be forever grateful.

But quite recently, I've had a strong urge to put down the candy corn and brush my teeth. In other words, the BACKLASH has arrived, baby-- at least in my personal brain region. I want to cleanse my palate and by that I mean my wardrobe.

I'm ready to hang up my ironic, Chassidic Jewish man-esque hat and dive, newly unadorned head-first, into cable knit sweaters, tailored outerwear, loafers, peter pan collars, classic button downs, and investment accessories. In conjunction with these new interests, I have unconsciously narrowed down my sartorial color palette of choice to a handful of core neutrals: black, white, gray, cream, navy, and oxblood. Most shockingly of all, I've developed an abrupt and inexplicable urge to wear ballet flats-- despite the fact that I swore off of them circa junior year of high school when the preponderance of Tory Burch Revas on my New England boarding school campus was reaching its peak. Yet here I am, five years later, the subject of my very own self-induced Streisand effect. In banishing the ballet model from my feet, I have inspired and strengthened the subsequent craving. (Hey--remember wedge sneakers?? I decided don't like them anymore! Talk to me in half a decade! LOL!)

I guess I shouldn't be surprised. Most trends and movements--in fashion or elsewhere--are ultimately a reaction to what came before. We humans are a bunch of fickle and repetitive mofos, which is why our current mode of subversiveness can often look pretty familiar. In the end, cutting edge is another way of saying the opposite of what you'd expect as of somewhat recently, and that's why even a pair of conservative shoes can suddenly be so damn exciting.

Image credit.

For further LOLZ, awkward silences, and tomayto throwing, follow me on twitter and instagram.

Dressing For Work: Menswear Pieces

Dressing for Work: Structured Style

Dressing for Work: Pencil Skirts

Dressing for Work: Mixing Patterns

Dressing for Work: The Skirt Suit

Vintage Elle France + Navel Gazing

This Hair's Life

Girl Meets Hat

Reluctant Summer Fashion Post

In Uniform

The Detachable Collar

Fall Style Personas

Back to School Fashion 101

School Style: Trial and Error

School Style: Loafer Edition

School Style: Comfy Dress

School Style: Spare Jacket

Fashion Week Elephant

The White Button Down Shirt

Fashion Backlash