Grace & Style Read online

  Round, moon-pie faces: The shape of your face is very reminiscent of a whole uneaten pizza pie. It’s a delicious crowd favorite, usually associated with group activities and communal fun. With that, you want to avoid triangular-shaped glasses of any kind. They remind people of individual slices of pizza, which, contrary to the full pie, are usually associated with solo activities and depression. They’re also associated with the Illuminati and the food pyramid, which are linked to depression.

  Oval, Bert-like faces: The shape of your face is very reminiscent of Bert from Sesame Street, or an unbroken egg, both of which have been used as educational resources to warn children about drugs. That said, you want to steer clear of aviators and steam-punk goggles. Aviators remind people of that movie Avatar, and it’s difficult to watch that movie without feeling like you’re on drugs. Steam-punk goggles are associated with raves, which are also hard to endure without feeling like you’re on drugs. Also, one of the greatest aviators of all time was Amelia Earhart, and she never looked that great in her steam-punk-esque pilot goggles.

  Oblong, heartlike faces: The shape of your face is most similar to an upside-down triangle, reminiscent of a guitar pick or a heart, both of which are associated with love and relationships. Therefore, you want to avoid any phallus- or genitalia-shaped glasses. The combination of your heart-shaped head and phallic frames will cause yourself and others to think about recent relationships, and those thoughts usually spark too many complicated feelings to manage in public—like the lingering bitterness you still have because your ex pointed out that you’re a raging narcissist with control issues? Feelings like that.

  Square, Lego-head faces: The shape of your face is as wide as it is long. It’s most similar to the shape of the apps on your iPhone’s home screen, or a piece of bread, which are two things that often challenge a person’s self-control. With that in mind, you want to avoid round frames. Round glasses are very reminiscent of Harry Potter, which, when combined with your square head, will remind people that they can’t simply cast a spell and eat all the bread they want without consequences, or magically add nonexistent features to their Instagram app. Your round frames will be a sobering reminder that we’re all only human.

  my jewelry MVPs

  I LOVE JEWELRY

  Jewelry is an easy way to let the world know

  you’re trying to make your ensemble more interesting. Or you’re trying to cover a stain on your shirt. Or you’re trying to use shiny objects to distract from your emotional baggage. Jewelry is fun!

  It’s also stressful. There’s so much jewelry out there and so many ways to wear it, where do you start? When do you add things? When do you take things away? What combinations work best? It’s like cooking. And cooking stresses me out. I either add way too many ingredients or absolutely none and decide to order in. To me, people who accessorize well, just like people who cook well, are very impressive. They seem to effortlessly know the best combinations, and when I see their outfit (or taste their food), I’m just like “Well, duh, yeah, that’s great. Where did you learn how to do that, witch?” And then I have to apologize for calling them “one of those real witches” to their face.

  Unfortunately, I don’t know the art of accessorizing well enough to give you effective tips or techniques.

  Phew, what a refreshingly self-aware book this is!

  That was my impersonation of you reading this book. I’m sorry if it seemed offensive. Moving on. (But, like, it was a pretty good impersonation, right?)

  What I can show you are the MVPs I reach for on a regular basis. I’m fairly terrible at the jewelry pairing-and-layering thing that a lot of trendy-lady-strangers on Instagram seem so good at. I mean, my idea of pairing a wine with dinner is literally “any wine” with “any food.”

  Consequently when I add ornaments to my outfit, seventy times out of sixty-nine, I go for one major statement piece (most often a necklace). It gives off the effect of accessorizing in one easy step. It’s like bringing a store-bought cheesecake to a dinner party. It’s always a crowd favorite, and people put you on the same pedestal as the woman who spent six hours laboring over individual gourmet mac-and-cheese bites. Take that, Krysten with a y! I often wear a lot of solid or neutral-color outfits, which lend themselves perfectly to statement necklaces. I also love adding statement necklaces to overly casual (aka sloppy) T-shirts in an attempt to look trendy and like I have nothing to prove. It has that same level of unexpected punch as deep-fried ice cream. It’s trashy and tasteful and though you’ll never understand the science behind it, you love it.

  HERE ARE MY PRINCIPAL PIECES

  Statement Necklaces: This lion’s head statement necklace from Topshop has been one of my signature go-tos for years. I love that it mixes metals and that it’s interesting. It’s loud and simple, which is the exact opposite of how I would describe my own personality. I’m so quiet and complicated I annoy myself. This was the first necklace I let myself splurge on at Topshop a few years ago. It was almost $30 and that was an Insane amOunT OF mOneY to spend on an item I would most certainly instantly lose or ruin. I am especially poor at managing jewelry, which is why I don’t value it the same way a lot of other women might. I can barely keep track of my passport, let alone various tiny pieces of metal. In the past, family members have gifted me nice pieces of jewelry to celebrate things like my college graduation, but my track record with nice things keeps me from ever wearing them. They become anxiety grenades: boxes that I have to try to keep track of because I KnOw the gift giver will ask me at the next family party how they’re doing and I’ll have to pretend that “They’re great, I’m just not wearing them today because I wanted to give them a break.”

  But this lion necklace was the first pricier piece of jewelry I bought in an attempt to treat my adult self. Necklaces were noticeably the item of jewelry I wore most frequently, so it only made sense to start investing in those. And this particular piece was the start. It’s humble and bold and trendy and timeless. I’ve worn this necklace to book signings, TV tapings, conventions, nights out, and in too many videos. I’ve worn it so much that the gold is fading to silver and the silver to gold. It’s a piece that a broad spectrum of people have complimented, both fashionable and fashion-phobic. I should probably find a replacement since it’s showing its age, but I’m planning to stay loyal until it falls apart completely. So, if you see me wearing this, please pretend it’s new.

  This winged necklace was bought around the same time as the lion, but from H&M, so it was slightly cheaper. In addition to the lion’s head, these two statement necklaces represent my overall jewelry aesthetic as well as the average level of care I take in my accessories. I’ve worn it just as much as the lion, which you can see from the mixed metal gradient that has developed. When I first noticed that happening, I got bummed and stopped wearing this piece, thinking it had run its course. But because of my forgetfulness, I never actually threw the piece away and have now convinced myself that the decomposition makes the necklace look purposefully aged, like it could be an authentic eighties heirloom. Like the Metallica T-shirts that fifteen-year-olds buy from Forever 21.

  In addition, my pineapple necklace is my accessory aesthetic to the core. I was in Toronto for an Internet festival in 2013 and saw it in a Topshop. I fell in love so hard so fast. It’s showy and stupid and fashionable and funny. I immediately bought it and wore it with a sweatshirt to a bunch of my events that weekend. I loved it. Not only did I get compliments on it, but also when people hugged me too hard, it hurt. Style and self-defense? Sign me up forever. However, in the signature fashion of my signature items, I broke it immediately. The closure chain fell off in the middle of a meet-and-greet, which was easily rectified because it could be hooked closed to any part of its main chain. But then one of the pineapples broke off. Which was a bummer because the necklace wasn’t cheap. But it can still be fixed; I just haven’t fixed it in the last two years, for some reason. I guess this is an elaborate note to myself to fix it. So, if you
see me wearing this, please commend me on fixing it.

  Sentimental Items: I have very few sentimental items, especially jewelry, on account of my awful track record at keeping small possessions. I also have an ability to “stash and trash” like no other. I don’t know many other people like this, so please enlighten me if it is common, but I’m above average at both gathering too many things (stashing) and at throwing eVerYTHInG away at once (trashing). It’s a very extremist mentality. I’ll keep a bunch of T-shirts from ten years ago thinking there’s some sort of nostalgia surrounding them, but as soon as the nostalgia wavers, I’ll throw all of them away, along with 90 percent of my entire wardrobe just to get a “fresh start.” At my house, spring cleaning happens twice every season. However, these two jewelry items are special because significant people in my life have gifted them to me and I’ve managed to keep them in decent-ish condition. I’m practically a real adult!

  My grandmom left me the pocket-watch necklace after she passed. I remember sitting on her lap when I was really young, maybe seven or eight, and she showed me what time it was in her tiny clock necklace. I was so in awe of it that I simply responded, “Can I have that?” I had never seen a necklace like it before and I wasn’t one to selfishly beg, but apparently I could bluntly demand. My grandmom laughed and simply responded, “When I die, Grace, you can have this.” And I don’t remember ever talking with her about it again. After she died, when I was in my midtwenties, my dad told me she left me something, and sure enough, it was the tiny clock necklace. Turns out my grandmom loved martinis and keeping her word. I love this necklace but I hardly ever wear it; it’s become more of a personal conversation piece. I love knowing I have it and I love knowing where I got it. It’s my small slice of special.

  Same with the gold ring I have with the emerald stone. A significant other gave it to me during an extremely formative time of my life. The difference is, I wear the ring almost every day. It’s a lovely reminder of what “caring” means, both from the person who gifted it to me, and myself because I’ve been able to care for a nice item over a significant amount of time. The ring represents something very sweet and personal and inspirational.

  The Cheap Stuff: In addition to statement necklaces and a couple sentimental pieces, inexpensive rings are my go-to accessories. Aside from my emerald ring, my ring collection is composed of cheap, kitschy costume pieces all damn day. I buy a lot of them from H&M or Forever 21–type places; I go for low-cost, trendy pieces that I’m okay with eventually losing. Because I will. And I wish I could say I constantly lose my possessions because I maintain some spiritual practice about all things being transient, but I lose my possessions because I maintain irresponsibility. I like rings that make a subtle statement; comical pieces that allow a stranger to focus on my quirky sense of style rather than my poor sense of smell. These items are always in rotation because I’m constantly forgetting them in various hotel rooms and random bags, or corroding their weak patinas with various showers and random laundry washings. So, if you see me, remind me to take better care of my rings.

  vintage grace

  MY BAG, MY BODY, MYSELF

  When I was in sixth grade, I made my first foray into the field of bags.

  Sixth grade was the highest grade of our elementary school; after that, you moved on to seventh grade at the regional high school, which brought together students from three districts. So as sixth graders, you felt pretty badass. And even more badass because at the end of that year you got to take the annual sixth-grade class trip to Washington, DC.

  The class trip to DC was a big deal. It was a day trip. Meaning it wasn’t our average midweek field trip where we’d shuffle onto a yellow school bus to see some old cannons or cheesy Civil War reenactments. Nuh-uh. For our end-of-the-year DC trip we were taking a GreYHOunD bus with, get this, aIr-cOnDITIOnInG. We’d leave early Saturday morning from the parking lot of our South Jersey school and return late Saturday night. It was the most time we’d spent away from our parents (unless they volunteered to chaperone—gag!) and the most time we’d spent with each other IRL. It all felt very adult. Our pre-hormones were raGInG.

  All of us girls had been planning our outfits and accessories for weeks. It was as exciting as prepping for a dance . . . during the daytime . . . outside . . . in the early June heat . . . while pretending to be interested in the Washington Monument. It was my first-ever day trip and the first real trip that I didn’t have to bring my backpack for. We didn’t need any books or folders, so it wasn’t necessary. But surely I needed a bag. Girls need bags. It’s simple physics. So I went to the mall to choose the perfect thing. And BOOOOOOY, did I. I walked right into Claire’s fashion jewelry and accessories and I bought myself a backpack shaped like a stuffed-animal frog with a zipper just below its neck.

  F*cKInG. naILeD. IT.

  I got home, ran to my room, threw the frog over my shoulders, looked into my dirty, smudgy mirror, and thought I was HOT sH*T (or whatever the midnineties equivalent of “hot sh*t” was). Mind you, this was the peak era of the Spice Girls. Pleather and glitter were gods and anything tacky was trendy. Thus my absolute need to own this bright green furry frog backpack.

  The Saturday of the DC adventure came and I woke up and got myself together. I have no memory of what I wore, but it didn’t matter because my frog bag was the real hero. Though the actual contents of the frog were pretty pathetic: a disposable camera (and not in a hipster way, again, Pre-InTerneT), some money my mom gave me for meals and souvenirs, a notebook, and some cheap lip gloss. But the frog held all of those essentials without a single struggle. The frog was too good.

  We arrived at the school and started piling into the Greyhound bus bright and early. A few friends complimented my frog and those who didn’t were thinking about how cool it was in their heads, I could just tell. The bus-loading scene was an energetic frenzy of who was sitting with who and where (we’d been choosing our bus buddy for weeks through notes and various lunchtime/recess debates). We were finally all settled and on the road. Immediately, drunk on parentless excitement, everyone started busting out their disposable cameras, wasting tens of photos. Caught up in the commotion, I whipped open the throat of the frog (a gruesome place for a zipper, in hindsight) and grabbed my camera to take a couple terribly angled shots. And after I returned my throwaway cam to the belly of the beast, I tried to close up the throat. No dice. The zipper was caught in a huge tuft of green frog fur, and no matter how hard I, or my bus buddy, Crystal, pulled, we couldn’t get it closed.

  FIVe mInuTes InTO THe TrIP anD THe FrOG was BrOKen.

  I wasn’t one to call attention to myself, even though the initial purchase of the frog suggests otherwise, so I spent the rest of the day trying to play off awkwardly holding the backpack over one shoulder so my precious belongings wouldn’t spill out and others wouldn’t see that the zipper was broken. Sadly, I never wore the frog again.

  I did (and do), however, continue to experiment with bags. They’re one of the most useful accessories a person can own. A handbag is the storage closet of the soul. They’re miraculous things, really. They can hold tampons and secrets all at once. They can be private and practical and personal, and fashionable and functional and difficult. I think they’re truly a reflection of the human they help. For example, my first bag was a useless, broken plush toy, and currently most of my bags are full of trash and receipts and empty travel-sized bottles of Poo-Pourri. I may as well be carrying around a tiny hand mirror.

  grace expectations

  THE SIX BAGS OF THE ZODIAC

  Which bag are you?

  Traditional (structured) Shoulder Bag

  YOU: You’re well thought out, you’re classic, you’re traditional; you’re practical with a sense of style. You’ve always been there for the people who need it most even though oftentimes they don’t see how much you do for them. Some say you can be uptight, but others say that in the right situation you can be easy, breezy, hands-free sleazy! You’re good at what you do and you�
��re not trying to be something you’re not. You can be simple and you can be showy. You can be salt and you can be pepper. Hell, you can be paprika when you really want to be. You’ve got the best of both worlds. And the worst. Your work can be repeatedly effortless or completely irregular. You can be monotonous and mischievous. You’re creative and uninspiring. Exciting and ordinary. Fashionable and a faux pas. You’re the first choice and a charity case. You’re fun and humdrum. What a life of contrasts!

  YOUR LOVE LIFE: Your love life is a roller coaster. It’s up, it’s down . . . it’s gone in the morning (HeYO!). You’re either tethered to someone for life or a whirling dervish of romantic disaster. You keep it all inside, but you can only hold so much. You’re always there for others; it’s about time you found your own shoulder to lean on. You’re one in a million. Literally. Probably one in millions. Billions, even. Don’t let that faze you. Find your match. Find someone who will appreciate you. Someone who will take care of you. Someone who will build you up and show you off. Someone who’s proud of you and knows what you’re capable of. You may have found that already without even realizing it.

  YOUR FUTURE: Expect change in the most consistent way. When Jupiter aligns with Saturn’s fourth house on the eighteenth, you’ll feel a sense of tied-down freedom in all aspects of your world. Be on the lookout for cats. All kinds. Everywhere. They’re the key to your happiness. Also, don’t be downtrodden late in the month when Venus shines through Pluto’s moon phase and you find out all your friends got tattoos without you. Their tattoos are ugly. And that’s not you. You’re a classic. And don’t forget to reconnect with the family unit—they might hold the key to your love life this summer. Or they don’t. Just don’t forget about the cats.