hide & boutique.

It's been my mission to explore every clothing boutique and thrift store in downtown Athens for some time now. The past three years to be close to exact. My tendency to procrastinate - what I prefer to call working well under pressure - led me to hit up all of them in one day, a meager month before graduation. I went in search of a dress. Here's what I found:

Community.

An unassuming door, a winding flight of stairs, and another door later, a secondhand women's clothing and accessories boutique appears, promoting local and sustainable fashion with reworked pieces and vintage originals located in a sweet loft above Jittery Joe's overlooking North Campus and Historic Downtown Athens. In short, I wish I lived here:

community.

Or instead of my giant run-on description, this tag neatly summarizes what this boutique is all about:

The owner is a tall hot blonde German woman. No boutique snobbery, just friendly and genuinely welcoming, which never goes out of style. I saw this lovely number in the revamped section and tried it on even though it was a size 4, but even vintage has its limits I guess. I had to hold my breath to fill out the dress with my expanded diaphragm, but I quit the swim team after a week back in 7th grade and never smoked anything in my life, so my lungs never got the training necessary to hold up this gorgeous dress:

goodbye, beautiful :(

Dynamite

Next door neighbors with Community, give or take a floor, this thrift store featuring new, used, and local goods was way bigger than I expected from the tiny door that leads into it. I think I spent the most time in here, but it seems this is all I have to show for it:

these reminded me of sarah.

Highlights from other boutiques:

you can't really tell here, but this dress @flirt was an impressive shade of evergreen.

beading on a potential grad party dress @flirt.

i want this dress from pitaya for my actual grad ceremony.
with my red patent leather stiletto pumps.

or these round toe pumps, also @pitaya.
i'm obsessed with velvet lately.

And to round things out, I went to a coworker's CD release show at the Caledonia after my meeting:

tumbleweed stampede @the caledonia

And played a trombone for the first time! Thanks to the trombone player at the far right who gave me a crash course after the show. Really amiable group of guys. Fun show. Fun day. Super tiring. I was once again reminded that I hate shopping and I love Athens.

one dollar.

This week at school, a thrift store explosion had evidently taken place in the Tate Plaza. That is to say, some student organization was selling sackfuls of secondhand goods for charity. One might normally respond to such an auspicious event by grabbing everything in one's size and asking questions/permission/forgiveness later. Ever since the sad state of my savings account, however, I have had zero desire to shop, much less dig through mystery meat clothing. 

But curiosity got the better of me, and I had to take a look.

one dollar!

Yeah. A dollar. This dress was cheaper than anything else you see in this photo. Except maybe those Office magnets on my mini-fridge in the background. Those were possibly also a dollar.

A bit last season but plain enough to work into a lot more to come (the dress, not the magnets). And the best part -- it looks like it was never worn, which is very probably the only circumstance under which I'd buy something white secondhand (Ignorance is bliss, and ignorance is hard to come by on a white garment). 

The more this week progresses, the more I pat myself on the back for mustering up any motivation to shop. There is, of course, the obvious fact that I can't really wear this dress until next year -- and by then I will probably forget I own it -- but somehow buying a dress that's cheaper-than-the-lunch-you-packed-from-home kind of suspends the relevance of that. Now, only 144 more days 'til spring...

And on that note, happy Fall Break! Also known as Friday...

Here are some pictures of all the different outfits I can make with this dress to celebrate.

field service.

teacher.

40s housewife.

little house on the prairie.

summer reading.

So versatile!

public service announcement.

I have a whole queue of posts about other, more relevant things that I was going to publish next, but being stuck at Tate with my air quality at the mercy of the guy sitting next to me has caused this post to supercede all the others.

This is a post for smelly people. A public service announcement of sorts. The announcement? You smell bad. The public service? I have kindly compiled a questionnaire to help diagnose your problem.

1. Are you fat?
2. Do you sweat a lot?
3. Do you make a habit of eating pungent ethnic foods?
4. Do you sweat a lot AND make a habit of eating pungent ethnic foods?
5. Do you have bad hygiene?
6. Do you put your clothes in the washer/dryer and forget about them and wear them after they dried in the dryer?
7. Do your parents plant mothballs in every single closet of your home...

a little organic chem review: naphthalene, aka mothballs.

If you said yes to even one of the above questions, you probably smell. Bad, in case that wasn't clear. (Side note: This is not to suggest that just because you're fat, sweat a lot, or eat pungent foods you smell bad. That would be stereotyping. And stereotyping is mostly bad. If, however, you make a habit of letting your undried clothes dry in the dryer and wearing them, you will without question smell bad. That is not stereotyping. That is fact.)

Scent is the strongest sense tied to memory, according to a reputable source (Old Spice commercial, circa 2004). Don't be remembered as the smelly kid. Kindly do yourself and everyone else a favor and take frequent showers, use antiperspirant despite its potential contribution to Alzheimer's (it's mostly genetic anyway),  promptly put your clothes in the dryer and make sure they've dried all the way so you don't smell like old rag, and throw out all the mothballs your parents plant in your closets. You can't beat moths anyway. They will always win.

Just look what they did to Dave's argyle sweater.

may or may not be Dave's sweater. or even Dave. but something very similar happened to his very similar looking argyle sweater.

http://www.ehow.com/info_8435616_do-moths-make-holes-sweaters.html

Addendum: There are so many empty seats here.

Guess where Smelly McSmellsalot sat...

http://luckybogey.wordpress.com/category/humor/page/4/

two wongs can make it white.

OPENING DISCLAIMER: NAME(S) HAVE BEEN CHANGED*

This week at the English meeting:

Me: *raises hand for Bible highlights*
Bro Williams: *sees me* "Oh! Sister...Ching?"
Me: ........
Bro Williams: *realizing that's not right* "or..Lee....?"
Me: .............................

my face expression:

except instead of Karen imagine a 300-pound black brother.

There are only three Asians in the Athens hall. Our last names are all Kim...

In all seriousness, though, it can be pretty hard feeling grounded when you're going back and forth between halls all the time. And cities for that matter. I've been going to the Athens service meetings for almost (or over?) two years now, and having two sets of everything is great and all, but mostly it gets to be pretty annoying. Or confusing...disorienting...almost depressing even. People start to forget your name or never learn it in the first place because they don't know how long you'll be around. Nevertheless I think I can say with confidence that I'll miss the long drives by myself once I graduate. 

In conclusion:

in case you're like me and hate reading, here's the cliff's notes: "We personally thought Asians would love this T-shirt."

Happy new service year and three-day weekend everyone!

*No they haven't.

grape juice.

As my inaugural post, I feel like I should talk about my parents. No reason other than that they are hilarious. So instead of ever actually going to see a doctor, my parents, like every good, stereotype-spurring Korean, watch a TV show that just features a doctor. Which is equally sufficient, really, as long as they keep popping multivitamins like they're candy. Anyway, my parents take everything this doctor says with no granule of salt. None. So naturally, they endorse something new every week that will stop the onset of I guess death, more or less, and then my mom puts it in every meal for the next month.

Last month it was carrots, mainly carrot juice. This month: grapes.

fresh squeezed grape juice.

Now supposedly grapes fight fatigue. Nominally, this sounds like a more promising month than the last (People thought I got real tan this summer. It's possible that I just had too much beta carotene). Well I quickly realized that, much like orange juice, grape juice can also be made with or without pulp. My mom managed to make the analogous form of it by blending the grape seeds right in with the rest of the juice.

extra pulp.

Nothing finishes out your dinner like having to chew your drink. Love you, mom.

my momz.

I make her cake. She makes me grapeseed juice. We have a healthy relationship, no pun intended.