The First Day of School/ What are You Passionate About?

So I was going to write one of those blogposts apologizing for not writing more and then listing a bunch of excuses for why (I was in Spain! It was Summer! My laptop was abducted by a watermelon with feet!), but then I realized none of you want to read that. Even though it's all true. Instead I thought I'd write about the emotional roller coaster that is the first day of school.

For those of you who don't know, Bella and I will both be Juniors this year. Sadly for us we live in different states so we cannot be Juniors together. Junior year is known by many to be the WORST YEAR EVER, a distinction that is only multiplied by the fact that I go to a crazy college prep school that firmly believes in its lifelong goal of giving its students stress ulcers. I know it's somewhere in the school motto. I just know it.

Anyways, the first day of school in Elementary and Middle School is a really happy day where you go to all your classes and do fun activities and get to know each other playing the name game. Not so in High School. These are the big leagues! Everything you thought you knew at the end of last year has been magically wiped from your memory and you traverse the loud, confusing halls in a daze.

• Fun Fact: This is actually my first time going back to a high school. So it was my first non-first-day-ever. Exciting stuff. Also a bit less exciting.  

This year, the biggest difference is that almost all of my classes are going to be awful and hard and I'm freaking out and they assigned homework the first day and ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

Ok I'm back. Every teacher wants to know things about their new students. Who are they? What do they do in their spare time? What are their strengths and weaknesses? And what better way to find those things out than through a questionnaire?!!! YAY! Because every student likes to think of adjectives to describe themselves, or even worse, answer the vaguely worded question: "Who are you?"

I think no one says it better than Olympic swimmer Ryan Lochte. 

Let us all keep in mind that he is an international figure who has given hundreds, if not thousands of interviews. If that's the best he can come up with, I don't know what you expect from me. 

One question got me thinking though. It was an average, run of the mill, "What is your passion/ what do you love?" I didn't give it too much thought and just jotted down "running" to fill the space because it's easy. I run three seasons a year! Of course I'm passionate about it, right? Nahhh. I kind of hate running. But also it's the best. 

Later though, when I was on my team's 5-mile run in 97* heat, I did not love running so much. At the end of the run, my team met on the beach to stretch and jump in the water, and that's when I realized. One of the things I love most in the world is the beach!

I'm lucky enough to live in a place with miles and miles of lakefront with gorgeous (yet sometimes pretty sketchy) beaches. Puzzle that one out and try to guess where I live! 

I went to the beach with my best friends yesterday, and it was one of the best times I had all summer. Not just for being with friends, because we lazed around my attic a lot too this summer. It was rivaled only by my time on the beach in Spain, where I would go and read a book for hours or go on walks and swim with my (sadly much older) cousins. Wow. It's been a very parentheses-y day.

The beach is the best! Which is why it's so important to save it. Next time you go to the beach, please pick up your trash. Or if you're there and see a piece of trash lying near you, be a good person and throw it away. Don't just stop there! Take reusable bags to stores when you remember, or if you're going to multiple shopping destinations just get a bag from the first store and fill that with all the things you can. I understand that it's not always possible not to use plastic bags, but avoid it when it is! Plastic bags look suspiciously like jellyfish from underneath, which may not be a problem for us but is a huge problem for our friends the sea turtles. Green sea turtles have a diet consisting of mainly jellyfish and seaweed, and when they unwittingly take a bite of a plastic bag they often choke to death or become caught in the handles, thus also dying. Despite conservationists' efforts to release more baby sea turtles into the wild every year, populations are dwindling as sea turtles slowly die out. I don't know about you, but I want this little guy to have a future. 

Do what you can to reduce runoff from your lawn by not using artificial fertilizers, because that facilitates the growth of blue-green algae, an algae incredibly harmful to swimmers and lake inhabitants alike. Also, ride your bike places! Not only do bikes run on human body fat instead of expensive and environmentally harmful gasoline, but riding a bike every day is guaranteed to give you nicer legs by the end of the month. Fact. We can't let our beaches get gross and polluted!

I love the beach. What are you passionate about?

Some Advice

A koala should run for mayor. Then when it gave a concession speech after losing it could be like, "Why didn't you vote for me? I have all the necessary koalafications!" And then people would being a chant, gradually growing louder and louder until all you could hear was the roar of their voices crying, "RECOUNT! RECOUNT! RECOUNT! RECOUNT!" The winning mayor would find himself unable to face a recount in a race that he now saw so clearly should have gone to his opponent and hand over his mayoral keys to the city. The crowd would then hoist the koala up on their shoulders and attempt to make it dictator for life, only for the koala to calmly remark, "Wait. You're not really koalafied to do that." The populous would let out an enormous cheer that rivaled all others in history and proclaim their lasting admiration for such a humble, talented koala as they stampeded to a field of eucalyptus in celebration.

Years later, in a job interview following the koala's long and successful mayorship, the interviewer would ask, "So, you won the election. But what makes you qualified for this job?" And the koala would reply, "Don't you mean..... koalafied?" "HIRED."

It pays to be a koala in a recession.

Robots

Turns out we don't have any viewers. Most of you guys are robots. That sucks.

FINALS WEEK

Looks like Blue Umbrella Chick beat me to it, but here we go.

Finals week is fondly known by all students in high school and college as THE WORST WEEK EVER. The stress levels are through the roof and its hard to find a single person that hasn't developed a bit of a nervous tick, no matter how cool they seem on the outside. For example, today I saw a boy playing air drums. This might've been perfectly normal if he hadn't been playing two inches from his eyes and staring at his fingers with his eyebrows intently furrowed and a chemistry binder spread out in his lap. See what I mean? Everyone goes absolutely bonkers.

Most high school students I know (and I go to a school full of overachievers) would do anything to escape finals week. Yesterday I found myself wondering what would happen if I slipped into a mysterious coma that ended right after finals week was up. Surely a life-threatening medical emergency would be better than this? The answer was no. I believe that staying out of those types of situations should always be a priority.

But the best part of finals week for me has been discovering my yearly coping mechanism. Last year I chose to reread all of the Harry Potter books because I decided that I would much rather be a wizard than deal with reality. It was also a week full of copious room cleaning leading up to my finals, so that by the time I actually had to take them my room was immaculate and my closet was fit to burst with all the things I had "cleaned" out of the room's actual living space.This year, I was forced to write a nine page paper on the Magna Carta. About four pages in I cracked and all my thoughts gained a British accent. This is only the beginning, so I'm actually quite terrified for what's to come. All I can do are copious math reviews and positive thinking at this point. So, good luck my dear readers. I know you have an inner genius inside just bursting to get out. Unleash that genius and be spectacular! I believe in you, my loves.

Final Exams

Finals are approaching my dearest readers! You know what that means: this goody two shoes will be studying ALL WEEKEND LONG. Never mind that yours truly has A's in all of her classes (heh heh, lots of 90's and 91's... stressful) I will be freaking out nonstop for the next 9 days. I will be drawing up study sheets, writing cheat sheets in point 4 font, reading entire sections of my textbooks, and lashing out at those who interrupt me. I am just a paradox of organization, aren't I? WRONG!Though I will be doing all of the above, I will also be partaking in the most destructive activity known to human kind: procrastination. This means that all weekend I will be cleaning, reading 'fun' books, gardening, and shopping. It's a virtue, I know.
By the end of Sunday, my room will be spotless, i will have my outfits picked out for an entire month, I will be the best read person in Wisconsin, and my (currently barren) garden beds will be bursting with blooms. Unfortunately, I will also have studied for a grand total of twenty minutes... 

....But hey, at least everyone else is in the same boat, right? Right?

Sexy Noses

I must say, I feel extremely strange writing this, but I have recently realized just how amazing noses are. It all started in ceramics... Currently, I am crafting an epic triple face vase (it is what it sounds like, a vase with three faces sculpted on) with my talented pottery partner, Mara. It's actually working pretty well! She's quite good at crafting mouths, as well as eyelids, and I specialize in eyeballs and noses. At first when I began sculpting the two noses I thought "Oh, this will be easy! They're just noses! All the same."

Oh, how wrong I was! The longer I worked on the noses, the more obsessed I became! I started with simple noses, but as I progressed I realized how much personality is in each nose. By the end of the day, one of the noses I was commissioned to do was severely hunched, with a wart at the nape between the eyes! It was extremely fun to make, especially the flaring nostrils... The second nose was lumpy and fat, with notably small nostrils and a thick Roman bump at the middle, quite fascinating actually.
Needless to say, for the rest of the day I was spellbound by the noses of my peers. I literally could not take my eyes of the noses! I spotted adorable button noses, bent and broken ones, and one especially attractive, absurdly straight one. In fact, I was literally checking out the latter nose, don't judge me... The possessor was significantly creeped out, but it's okay because guess what! My nose is cute too! I've got that stereotypical 5-year old nose, a ski-slope bridge and a button tip. Come to think of it, Clara Bear also has a great nose! It's a little Roman and its got a cleft tip! You go girl!
Yes, I know what you're thinking "Wow, she's a real nose-obsessed creep! I think I'll stop reading this blog now..." But stop. Do not act all high and mighty with me! I just happen to have noticed what many mortals have overlooked: Noses. Noses, noses, noses. They're beautiful. It sounds weird, but think about it: noses are planted in the exact center of our faces! Besides our eyes, our noses are the first attribute that people notice about us. And, contrary to popular belief, there is no such thing as an unattractive nose! Even if your nose is currently 'out of style' (psh, as if) that just means it has personality! And if your nose has personality, I envy you because I wish I could sculpt it.

Shuffle Three Steps to the Left

 "You, scoot over here!" and "Cross your arms! No-uncross them! Cross your fingers instead!" It's exhausting. The shuffling and stepping and scooting, and the arms around waists, I just don't know anymore.

I'd just like to take a moment to address the awkwardness that is group pictures. As a member of various teams, I am constantly put in positions where it is deemed appropriate to take a group photo of everyone awkwardly smiling at the camera. Don't get me wrong, I'm all for that photo op when everyone's really happy and it's a moment you want to immortalize forever.

Recently one of my favorite photos ever was taken at the conference track meet. For the first time in history, both the boys and the girls teams won the meet. As the results were being announced, none of us expected the boys to win and we were all just really happy that the girls had and that the boys were probably coming in second. The moment the announcer declared, "And in first place, we have..." everyone lost it. It's the happiest I can remember myself being in a really long time. That's a moment we should have forever so of course lets take a thousand photos. We all had really huge natural smiles and were standing close and hugging by choice, not because we were arranged that way by some photographer or well meaning parent.

Here we are, in all our glorious blurriness. 

The photos I don't like are group pictures. Imagine this: you're innocently doing an activity, such as sitting on the carpet of a hotel room, chatting with your friends about a certain member of the track team's amazing arms, when suddenly, someone's mother pop's up with her iPhone and says, "Oh, lets take a picture!" In this moment, a candid might be cute of us laughing and painting nails. Alas, this is not the case. Invariably we end up standing with our arms around each other smiling forced smiles and capturing a contrived moment forever. 

Still not feeling it? I can give you another example. There we were, innocently attempting to bowl, when suddenly someone decided to take group pictures of each team. We had to stop all the games and stand together in a line, posing for a camera with our bowling balls. In this case, the candids of me bowling were even worse than the team photo, which is quite unfortunate as it is. 

I think the real reason I hate group photos is because as a person, I'm not very photogenic. This is true to the extent that when I get a good photo of myself I'm tempted to stare suspiciously at it several times a day to try to determine how it got that way. 

I say this not to fish for compliments (Oh no, you're SO photogenic!), but to reason with myself as to why I hate group photos so much. It's just that whenever I pose for a photo, I seem to undergo a drastic change and start to look really weird. It's not the same with candids though. Usually I look like my usual awkward self, but once someone got a photo of me laughing which was cool. I was probably way overexcited about that. 

This problem is compounded by the fact that basically all of the people I hang out with are very attractive. I'm not sure what happened, but somewhere along the line I accidentally made friends with a group of highly beautiful people. In photos they always look perfectly on point, while I'm usually the one weirdly dancing in the corner of the frame or making some odd face since they caught me before I smiled. It's a struggle. 

Check out my secret code! It's a Caesar cipher and the clue is clearly hidden in this post. It's basically why I wrote this entire thing the way I did, sorry about that. (Not sorry).

Zrz, brx dfwxdoob wrrn wkh wlph wr ghfrgh wklv! Ru glg lw rqolqh, brx odcb olwwoh jhqlxv L olnh brx. Wkh zrug ri wkh gdb lv zkdfndgrr, ghvfulelqj pb eurwkhu zkr jrw rii wkh exv wrgdb, ehjdq wr vlqj derxw wrdvw, dqg surpswob uhpryhg klv vkluw ehiruh jhwwlqj lq wkh fdu. L olwhudoob kdyh qr lghd zkdw kdsshqhg wr klp exw L krsh wklv lvq'w klp ehfrplqj d whhqdjhu, wkdw zrxog eh edg. Edqdqdv dqg lfh fuhdp, qhyhu gulqn rudqjh mxlfh diwhu euxvklqj brxu whhwk dqg dozdbv vwrs wr vphoo wkh olodfv. 

Much love! 

ATTENTION!

I would like to take a few moments today to appreciate perhaps the best holiday in the world: Mother's Day. Yes, my unsuspecting readers, this is a Mother's Day post. Deal with it. Along with Father's Day (which is coming up shortly!) Mother's Day is one of the two best holidays EVER. My mom is actually the coolest person in the world! Truly. This week she braided my hair into a headband. 7 girls asked me how I did it. That's right, my mom can do the best hair ever. She can also cook the best pies on both sides of the Mississippi, teach middle school demons, paint flawless portraits, and even handle a high school sleepover that spills into Mother's day (heh-heh). She is amazing. I love my mom, and I'm sure you love yours too! That's why today, I challenge you to appreciate your mother as much as possible. Here's a few things you could do to show her how much you care:

1. Mow the lawn
2. Make cinnamon rolls
3. Write a heart-felt card
4. Walk the dog
5. Walk the cat
6. Walk the hamster
7. Make soup!
8. Get a tattoo of her name on your back (in calligraphy lettering)
9. Run a marathon topless so everyone can see your kickin' tattoo
10. Bake three different varieties of cupcakes
11. Give her a foot massage
12. Take her to a salon for a pedicure to remedy your bad foot massage...
13. Breakfast in bed!
14. Lunch in bed!
15. Dinner in bed!
16. New sheets for the food stained bed
17. Paint her nails
18. Send her flowers
19. If you're a girl: Don't wear a halter/crop/tube top, booty shorts, mini shorts, or shoes with a heel exceeding 1 inch
20. If you're a boy: Button your shirt so I cannot see your belly button. Wear a tie!
21. Text her small compliments over the course of the day
22. Tell her you love her

  If you're still reading this post, then get off your butt! You should be off frolicking in meadows appreciating your mothers! Oh, and please, someone do numbers 8 and 9.

Oh, Referees...

Oh, what a wonderful day I have had! My beautiful, iridescent unicorn of a soccer team just won our first tournament! Currently, I am incapacitated by a real bugger of a cold, but did that stop me from driving all the way out to nowhere land in the cold, wind, and rain to play three games back to back? No! You see, I am of that fortunate mindset that illness can be ignored and it will just disappear. This uppity attitude has never worked well for me in my sixteen years on this earth, and today was no exception. With a disgustingly mucus-filled nose, a cough that sounds suspiciously similar to a Great Dane's howl, and a lung capacity of about 0.3 milliliters, I trudged through 150 minutes of soccer. Ow. The injustice of this tragedy was lightened only slightly by my teams resounding victory (to which I contributed a grand total of NOTHING), and I will tell you why.
Referees hate us.
I don't know why this is, but it's true. Referees hate my team with a burning passion. They have no reason to be: we foul very infrequently, are quite polite to them and the other team, and are  never obnoxious on the sidelines. But they still hate us. Throughout the three games of this morning, a gross amount of incorrect fouls were called on us. For example, in an especially unfortunate circumstance, two girls from another team both ran at the ball in our 18-yard box, both obviously wishing to score their first goal of the game. They collided with a loud smack and lost the ball to one of our defenders. TWEEEEEEET! The idiot Ref called a foul on us! My poor coach tried to tell him that no, in fact the collision was caused by the stupidness of the other team, but apparently the Ref was both deaf and mute, because he took no notice and proceeded to hand the opposing team a free kick. Eighteen feet away from the goal. Voila! She scored.
This was only one of the numerous ridiculous calls on our team, but it gets worse! We were repeatedly fouled by the other teams and the Ref never called a single one. One poor talented member of our team was everything but beaten-up by angry defenders - still, no call. There was even an instance when a girl literally palmed the ball down to her feet in order to trap it. Guess what? Apparently her fingers magically don't count as part of her hand because NO HAND BALL.

So, my dearest Referees whom I have had the pleasure of encountering today, I'd like to thank you. You, my dearest Refs, have shown me that there is love in this world! Because you obviously must love the other teams a TON to ignore so many fouls and fabricate even more.
Hugs and Kisses!

A Plea to the School Board

Dear School Board,

I must warn you, by simply reading this post, you are subjecting yourself to a possible contraction of my disease. But, no! Don’t stop reading! That is why I am writing to you, I must warn the public of the endangering and very real malady that has manifested inside of me. I shall refer to it as “Tuberculonctitus-Ameniatic-ulomy”, as there is not yet a name for this deadly virus.

Sure, doctors claim that I reside in a body of health, but they are mislead by charts and tests and false-information. Sure, my family believes I am feigning my symptoms, but they are merely in denial (which is understandable, due to the looming possibility of my death). But I swear, by my life (that shall soon be no more, because of this cursed virus), that I am telling the truth.

Let me relate to you my symptoms: Cold sweats, sore calves, dry mouth, raspy throat, runny nose, smelly feet, a double ear infection, spells of dizziness, home-work induced nausea, fingernail fungi, a rapid beating of the heart, brittle hair, a large appetite for cheetos, a pinkish-purple rash on my hip (which is not a bruise from soccer), and itchy eyes. I also seem to have contracted a rare form of chemistry-exam allergy.

I pity the poor soul who is subjected to this torturous disease. I would not wish this sorrow upon my worst enemy! As an exemplary student, I can attest to how this affects my learning abilities. I can not focus, my vision blurs when attempting to concentrate, and my mind is in a permanent fog. As you can see, even if  you did send me to school, it would be in vain for I would derive nothing from the usually stimulating curriculum.

If any other students contracted this illness, I would never forgive myself! Their grades would most likely suffer, not to mention their happiness and well being! I can’t even begin to imagine the catastrophic effect this virus would have on our school if a TEACHER caught it. Our brilliant learning facility would fall into ruin! Educators would be unable to teach, resulting in the undereducation of the students. The wrath of Tuberculonctitus-Ameniatic-ulomy would no doubt prove apocaliptic.

In your best interest, I urge you to let me remain at my home today, and not attend school. I will surely infect other students who wish to learn (not that I don’t wish to learn...), which would be absolutely devastating. Please, disregard the physicians, educators and familial members who try to convince you to force me to attend school. They do not understand the magnitude of this illness. I do not wish to be a hazard to my peers health, I want to preserve West’s student’s health!

Please, dear, healthy School Board, allow me to stay at home today. I would like to recover quickly from this malady, or if fate decides, die in the peace of my own home.

Most illy yours,

BluE umbreLLA chick

Life Punched Me in the Eye

Just when I thought I had life down pat, I walked through an entire day of school with eyeliner only on one eye. This was only magnified by the fact that I was an hour late and wearing pajamas. I thought, Man, I'm so sneaky wearing this eyeliner so no one can see how tired I really am! 

You guys... I think they knew. 

Leave Us Comments!

Today I logged on and noticed that we had *gasp* readers! Not even my grandma saw this coming, and she is supposed to believe in me always. I'm sure many of those views come from me obsessively clicking on the blog to see how the words look on the fancy template thing, but we really appreciate anyone besides us reading this! I know it's too soon to have a thank you scene (It hasn't even been a week. How sad is that?) but I'm having one anyways. Hehehe!

Sad for us though, no one has commented. Besides ourselves. It's almost like liking your own photo on Facebook, except in this case the comment was totally relevant and added so much to the story. Check it out, it really did. So here I am, inviting you to comment on our blog! Please guys?

This is a map of my heart, and I am adding a new color for people who leave us comments. You are truly lovely.  

Ok, I got the heart of the internet... So sue me. It's incredibly accurate and I still love it. 

Track is Ruining My Life (but We Are Still in Love)

I'd just like to take some time today to blog about a topic very dear to my heart: track. If you don't run, you'll have no idea what I'm talking about. I suggest immediately logging off of the internet, putting on a pair of sneakers, and jogging off into the distance like the motivated human being I know you can become. 

For all of you who actually do run, or were just too lazy to take my suggestion and go offline, this is for you. 

I originally joined cross country as a freshman in high school because the team was 180 people strong and it was the only co-ed sport, thus making it a wonderful social opportunity. It turned out to be the most amazing thing I've ever joined, and that is on a list including Pinterest and the middle school student council. Seriously, check out my Pinterest sometime. Not to brag or anything, but I have 4 whole followers. I'm kind of a big deal. 

Anyways. Back to track. After joining cross country, I promptly fell in love with running, and we have been unhappily together ever since. Joining the cross country team inevitably led to me joining the track team, where I became a sprinter in order to avoid ever having to do mile repeats again. Track isn't one of those "fun sports" you hear people talking about; you know, the ones people watch? Football, soccer, volleyball, pingpong... Track is more of one of those mental torture sports for anyone not associated with the team that is forced to attend an entire 7-hour meet. It's also a very individual sport where you strive to improve your own times and then race against others to see who can run in circles the fastest. 

At this point, you're probably thinking I couldn't have possibly made track sound any more fun. But wait, it gets better! Our practices typically consist of running to a crowded track, where we are subjected to warming up with humiliating drills including "clap skips" and "zombie walks" in front of all present. We then commence the workout, which usually includes sprinting as fast as you can around the track, receiving your time and a skeptical eyebrow raise from the coach, and then jogging back to the start. This exercise is repeated several times until we can't feel our legs and our lungs are basically on fire. After that, we jog (walk) back to the gym where we meet our coaches, who drove back in their car, and stretch together. The one really lovely thing about being a sprinter as opposed to a distance runner is that our practices are usually much easier and we almost never have to do ab workouts afterwards. Ha!

During almost every practice, I find myself wondering why I put myself through it. Why don't I just quit track and join badminton? I often think to myself. But then I remember that badminton is not a real sport and I'm also very uncoordinated at any sport involving a ball. Which is basically all of them. 

For those of you who are still hanging in there during this long rant-y post, I salute you. Ten points to Gryffindor! I'm also assuming a lot of people checked out already, so to them I just say this: 

And no, Mr. Rogers did not get arrested for being a pedophile. That was Barney. Get your facts straight. 

Another thing about track is that it monopolizes your social life. After spending two hours at practice, then having to go home and finish your insane school workload, your social life during the week will consist of sadly staring at Facebook photos of people having more fun than you. Friday nights usually consist of someone calling you to hang out and you saying, "Sorry, I'm actually at a track meet!" and then hopefully adding to the dial tone, "Some other time maybe...?" 

After all this, why do I do track? Why do any of us? It's not because we have a deep passion for running in circles. It's because track is awesome. 

No matter where I look, I could never find a better group of people than these. Even if you're not super close, everyone on the track team is like a super cool family that you get to spend every afternoon with. That's the best kind of family, because you only really have to see them for two hours a day and they mostly don't know where you live. At track I think you become really close to people you would probably otherwise never even talk to. And even though running is basically an individual sport, I've never seen that much teammate support anywhere. I think it's because your individual performance doesn't affect how they do so they just want you to be happy. Not like soccer, where I bet everyone secretly bullies the goalie when they let in a shot. That's the ugly side of soccer that the cameras don't want you to know about. A goalie probably experiences way worse stress-related hair loss than any other group of athletes combined. Except maybe ballerinas, I don't even know what they do. 

Additionally, if you run track, you've got the best body. Also, running clothes are basically the most comfortable clothes on the planet. I suggest wearing some. If all that isn't enough for you, track is incredibly cheap compared to most sports (all you need is a pair of shoes) and requires no special training. You just kind of go for it. All runners exude and aura of happiness after running, also known as a runners high, which is caused by an endorphin rush to your brain. Endorphins are one of the hormones produced that make you happy. The other one is seratonin, which is found in dark chocolate. Runners can eat as much chocolate as they want because they work out. Think about it. 

So consider running as a thing. Even if right now you just want to walk around the block a few times, a little goes a long way! RUN FOREST RUN! If he can do it so can you! And if you're in school, join the track or cross country team. It'll be the best thing you ever do for yourself besides home facials. But we'll save that for another time.

Bolo and Ascot and Bow Ties, Oh My!

Bolo and Ascot and Bow Ties, Oh My!

A Men’s Fashion Editorial

In case you haven’t noticed, it has somehow become uncool to dress nicely. Among the younger generations especially, it has become popular to look as if one does not care about their appearance. Unruly hoodlums strut their outdated stuff in sagging pants and exposed undergarments. Sophisticated arrow-part hair has been pushed out of fashion by mussy, bedheaded looks. This, my friends, is a catastrophe. Where are our Kerry Grants? Our attractively put-together, impeccably dressed icons? They have waned tragically into obsolescence, replaced by messy haired, saggy jeaned, sleepy eyed models. It is appalling that such an event has taken place. Passing the fashion torch to such style challenged underachievers is like electing your class dropout to the presidency!  We must band together, my dear impressionable fashionistos, and reclaim fashion for what it used to be: the ultimate refinement of men’s apparel design.

Now, don’t get me wrong: a little style savvy smudge to give your outfit some dramatic flair is good. Spontaneously placed belts and precariously cocked fedoras are what give men’s fashion edge and life! But drooping pants, wrinkled tees and unlaced sneakers are the antithesis of fabulous. So hike up your britches, iron that shirt, tie those shoes, and let’s talk about fashion. Rule number one for a streamlined outfit: absolutely no sneakers with dress pants. Loafers and jeans are fine, sneakers and denim are completely acceptable, but runners and khakis are a no-no. Rule two: when in doubt, vote for a button up. If your dresser drawers are just too tough to handle at the moment, don’t dig through them for last week’s Dr. Who tee (though that is definitely a marvelous piece to have on hand) instead grab a crisp collared shirt.

This universal piece is like a blank canvas; you can do whatever you want with it! First, there are the colors and patterns. These witty shirts are famous for their various styles, and their universal shape allows nearly any pattern to flourish. Next, there are the buttons. The possibilities are endless! Unbutton the top clasp or two if you just want to relax. Undo three buttons if you want to wear a necklace (don’t worry, necklaces are manly and way under appreciated). I do discourage you from pulling a California beach boy move (*ahem* David Hasselhoff) and walking around with 5 or (gasp!) all buttons undone. This is an extremely cocky move and I can assure you all girls will steer clear from you by any means possible. Finally, if you are just too amazing for words, button that shirt all the way up to the collar! This is perhaps the best of all button possibilities, not only does it make you look like Jay Gatsby (a stylish fictional billionaire who threw the best parties and is now being brought to life by none other than Leonardo DiCaprio) but it also opens the possibility of wearing a tie, which, aside from dog, is man’s best friend.

Ties, ties, ties! Let me tell you something about ties: They are the epitome of bazinga. They cause the wearer appear suave, polite, and cool. Not to mention, they come in a goldmine of varieties. Whether you opt for bolo, ascot, bow, or classic cravat, these little buggers will add desired flair to any outfit. Each variety says something different about the wearer. Bolos suggest a southern gentleman; bows scream distinguished sir; ascots propose psychedelic dude; and classic cravats claim timeless beau. Match your personality (or desired aura of the day) to the style and hit the ground running!

Once you have chosen your style of tie, be sure to pick the proper color or pattern for your outfit. Bolos are simple: change the charm to fit the occasion. For ascots, I would suggest a paisley print or brightly pigmented shade; if you are brave enough to sport this tie you have to go all out, no neutral browns for you. If you choose a tie of the bow or cravat persuasion, then you’re in luck; these ties are by far the most versatile of the cravat family! With such straightforward designs, these ties tend to work with most any color or pattern. However, choosing the perfect tie from such an overwhelming realm of possibilities can be intimidating. How could one possibly sift through the infinite options and pick the perfect tie? Our dear friend Mills, tie extraordinaire offers some advice.

Bella: First, what is your preferred style of tie?

Mills: Personally, I’m not very interested in Bolo ties, while they work for specific occasions, I don’t vouch for their everyday wear. When I dress up, I will wear a Cravat, though it is too dressy for a casual occasion. Neckties are quite versatile, and many people use this tie all the time. However, they are quite businessy, therefore I steer away from them. I personally prefer Bow Ties, they work for any occasion (you can wear them with jeans or a tux) making them extremely versatile. In addition to this, they are a unique way to add a splash of color to your outfit. Also, just knowing how to tie one is cool!

B: When did you first start wearing bow ties?

M: I first started wearing bow ties on a regular basis about half a year ago. I literally spent half an hour on youtube figuring out how to tie one before I could get it!

B: What colors would you suggest for bow ties?

M: It really depends on the outfit. With a white shirt, nearly any tie will work, whereas if you are wearing a patterned shirt, it can be very difficult to match a tie to it. Basically, just don’t clash. With basic white shirts, bright colored bow ties work best.

B: What patterns work best?

M: In my opinion, everyday casual bow ties should be worn in patterns, as solid colors can come off as uptight. Dots are my personal favorite, though the one rule with dotted bow ties is; don’t mix them with a patterned shirt! With striped bow ties, color coordination is especially important, as multiple colors often mix in a striped bow tie.

B: Are there any no-nos regarding bow ties?

M: The only real no-no for bow ties is their width. In general, thinner bow ties are better. You really don’t want to be wearing a clown-sized tie to school.

B: What kind of ties are in your possession?

M: I have a wide range of bow ties (about 20), about half of which are black and white or vintage. The other 10 are my fun ties (with patterns, etc).

B: What is your favorite tie?

M: I have this one vintage bow tie, it was my grandpa’s, that I especially like. It’s red, white, and black plaid and while it is a bow tie, it does not look like one. Instead of flaring out at the ends like bow ties usually do, it narrows. It’s a very unique tie!

B: Well, thank you Mills!

M: No problem.

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