Fluttershy - Working In Background

What to Wear to a Holiday Party in this Doorway!

I don’t know about you guys, but I’ve been invited to a lot of holiday parties. Hosted by me. Of which I am the exclusive (e.g., only) attendee. In this doorway.

What does one wear, bearing in mind that first impressions are more important than second or even third impressions?

First of all, I look amazing!!!!! Photos by Mz. Tchouster duh.

Luckily, before I even heard about this party, I was already really into standing in front of black doors wearing all black. It’s one of the top-rated things to do in Carnegie Hill.

Which reminds me: in all the New York neighborhoods in which I’ve lived, I’ve had millyunz of local blogs to choose from, from the hip and bustlin’ LES to the up-and-combovers Prospect Heights to that great metropolitan punchline Park Slope. But there is actually no Upper East Side blog.

EXCEPT MINE!!!!!!!!!!

Acknowledging my dominion over the virtual landscape of this prized zip code, I will move on and tell you what I’m wearing.

And what I’m wearing is, a black droopy blazer jacket thing from Pixie Market; a dress from Nasty Gal, my mother’s Chanel Belt (they get them in every once in a while at Decades if you’re jonesin’ hard for one) that I wear as a necklace with a Mark McNairy tshirt south of 14th Street; Bebaroque tights that are covered in crazy fancy sequins because when I put them on it’s like “And in that moment, I swear we were Beyonce”; and some Dani Black shoes from like four years ago.

Actually all of this is from like four years ago, and was a favorite outfit of mine to “GO OUT!!! to cool frat parties!!! 18 to get on the boat, 21 to know true genius!” in college. Yeah, it looked sort of weird then, removed from its Black Doorway context. But now it looks fine, even though it’s all four years old. Or at least I’ll tell myself that, because right now I am in this thing where I am afraid to buy things that aren’t Manolo Blahnik mules or old books.

Is anyone else in this thing where they are afraid to buy things that aren’t Manolo Blahnik mules or old books? Let me know in the comments section I don’t have!!!! (AUDIENCE ENGAGEMENT!)

Regardless, get the look!


When I moved to New York with nothing but a suitcase, a dream, and a hose, I immediately realized that if I wanted to achieve anything approximating greatness, I needed to join the Junior League or start a fashion blog. The latter seemed more prudent, and less in keeping with the expectations of my family, so that’s what I went with. 

Now that I’ve lived here for a full year and have aged like a fine wine to twenty-freaking-four-years-young, I realize something far more important: I need to start a Biker Girl Gang.*

*Without bikes.

I need to start a Biker Girl Gang in which all members wear their hair in swoopy pompadours. All members will have seen every episode of Jem and the Holograms but also every episode of Jiz and the Mammograms.

And I need us all to wear this:

When I put this outfit on, all my wants and desires crystallized. Because in this Biker Girl Gang, we are going to wear backless Risto vests with white button downs that have lime green fringe haunting the back like some freakish baroque fantasia and flimsy lace skirts from The Most Pixie of Markets. Accessorizing with Lizzie Fortunato bags and Jenni Kayne flats will be de rigueur. 

Over our outfits, all of us in the Biker Girl Gang will need to wear BADASS matching jackets like this Anna Sui one that has hit me like a truly great woman might’ve hit Hemingway: it makes me want to write better and drink less gin and generallybe a better person because it is so beautiful and amazing and when I see it I blush and laugh awkwardly and don’t know what to say despite my tendency to talkitytalktalk.

Then we are going to stand around like this and say things like, “Do you think the moon landing was real?” And then we are going to watch documentaries about whether or not the moon landing was real, and then afterwards we’ll stop at the Monkey Bar for a drink and then we’ll all go on a field trip to the Frick and look at that Ingres painting and put our finger on our chins and be like “UUUUNNNNGGGHRUHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!” One of our members will have gone to the New School and she’ll say something terribly unclever about the ethereal nature of Countesse d’Haussonville’s limbs and the one who went to Barnard will turn to the one who went to Princeton and whisper, “Did she even study Mannerism?” And then we’ll nickname the New Schooler The Mannerism Repeller. (I wonder if she could get that sewn on the back of her Anna Sui jacket?)

But who will be in my Biker Girl Gang? See that sad face? It’s me, on the street, in Brooklyn, wondering if I’ll ever get my Biker Girl Gang. Please submit all inquiries re: participation in Biker Girl Gang to pizzarulezzz@gmail.com or via Twitter at @rsevillet. In the mean time, I’ll be watching this, listening to this, and, of course, dreaming about this

Risto vest from Assembly / pushBUTTON shirt and black skirt from Pixie Market / Selima Optique glasses / Lizzie Fortunato bag / Jenni Kayne flats from Fivestory NY 


Fashion has been giving me mad thoughts lately, one of which is that The War on Drugs is amazing, like really truly good, like so good that over a year after I first got Slave Ambient it still sounds like space aliens beaming down boss sounds from another galaxy. Like the rolling surf rock drumbeat that explodes into ’80s Springsteen thwacks at the beginning of “Baby Missiles” still makes me think “HECK YEAH.”

But The War on Drugs is transcendentally good. Like a year ago I had the world’s worst ever fashion job in fashion but I got to hear The War on Drugs for the first time, and The War on Drugs is so good that I sometimes wish I were back in that job because it would mean I’d be hearing The War on Drugs for the first time again because even though it’s good now it was even better then.

What this has to do with fashion and this outfit is just like, temporality, man, because this dress is just like-uh that.

Like this dress is really good. Every once in a while I make a little section of my closet where I put the best stuff, including stuff I wear all the time like this black Carven skirt that goes poof and a colorblock Sonia Rykiel dress that makes me look like a cool mom, and some stuff I don’t wear often but that’s just insane to look at like this Comme des Garcons bubblegum pink parachute dress. This dress is in there in a major way and probably will be until the end of time, because every time I wear it I geek out heavy over its weird baggy top and the flowing mullet action and the print, which is a floral print in the same way that, like, Berlin is scenic. 

Since I bought it, I’ve worn it once every weekend, sometimes through the whole weekend, and every time I wear it, it feels like the first time I wore it when I bought it two months ago. And YET!! sometimes I sit around gripped by the absurdly short-sighted nostalgia that grips all millennials, thinking to myself, “I miss two months ago, when I first tried this on in the store and angels and archangels joined together to sing a beatific cover of Egyptian Shumba because this dress rules so hard.” 

These boots are like that too. They were the first thing I bought from Oak and I wore them to frat parties in college and was the Girl With the Boots because they are pretty like portentous for a frat party. Especially in the Ivy League where jeans and straplezz topzz are the order of the day.

I would ask you if you have anything like that in your closet or your life but I don’t have comments on Pizza Rulez because I am afraid of anonymous internet commenters. I cannot afford to let haters keep me off my grind. But if you do have anything like that and you need to talk it out you can always find me on Twizzler or drop me a love note at pizzarulezzz@gmail.com or stand outside my apartment with a stereo hoisted over your head, playing The War on Drugs.