Aliya S. King

So, as we all know, 2009 is the year I step my game up.

My natural fashion compass currently dials towards Schlump.

When I have to get dressed up, I feel confident that I can be sharp and well put together.

This is a Yay. I don't care what anyone has to say.

Go me! (Except that red belt kind of bothers me. It has a black belt that goes with it. But I wanted a splash of color to play off the white. Oh well.)

It’s not dressing up that trips me up. I think I’ve got that under control.

It’s everyday dressing that I have a problem with. As we all know, I’m a freelance writer. I work from my living room sofa or my small office nearby. Right now, I’m wearing TH’s college sweatshirt, gray sweats from Target and some striped tights I found in TG’s sock drawer. It’s the everyday me that needs help. She’s the one who ends up wearing costumes like this:

And this:

And she's smiling, like this outfit is all good. Poor thing.

Or this:

Rainboots, sweats and a corduroy blazer. Jesus take the wheel.

And on a good day, something like this:

I need a go-to wardrobe. Remember Garanimals back in the day? I need a wardrobe like that. Easy mix and match. But alas, I gotta work with what I’ve got.

I went to Santa Fe this week to write a travel story. And I stocked up on a few cute dresses at Target before I left. (Target is your friend, people. TARGET IS YOUR FRIEND).

I reached out to Lil Miss Brown to get her thoughts on my gear in Santa Fe and she said:

“I thought you stopped blogging.”

And I said, “What are you talking about?”

“You posted about not blogging anymore,” she said.

I don’t know what she’s talking about. But at any rate, she’s swamped with work this week. So I’ve asked the lovely Claire, from FashionBombDaily to weigh in. (Can you be unfashionable with a name like Claire? Of course not.)

Claire spared no punches. Gulp. Herewith: my week in Santa Fe:

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Fellas. It’s your turn.

Meet Shydel James. By day he’s an analyst at New Jersey Transit. By night, he’s an actor and a freelance writer.

Oh. And when he was 16, he was a student in my African-American History Class at Clifford Scott High School in East Orange, New Jersey. He was the class president. I was the class advisor. We go back like that.

Oh. And he’s been my personal assistant for three years, doing everything from calculating my expenses, additional reporting for my stories and faux-sitting Tog. (Faux-sitting means her ass better be already asleep when he gets there and I better have some snacks and cable television at the ready for him. And if she wakes up, oh well too bad. And no diaper changing. Ever. That’s faux-sitting.) And he doesn’t transcribe. Ever. Will just straight up say, um, no. not doing it when I tell him I need it done. Even though I pay him. What is that?!

Anyway. Del is a snazzy dresser. Even as a teenager. I liked the way he put things together but I’m curious about what Lil Miss Brown, (and all of you), will have to say about his style.

Herewith, Mr. James’ steelo this week. And Miss Brown’s thoughts. Enjoy.

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I am a fashion reject. Back in January, I wrote a post about how I wanted to step up my game and dress like a grown up–even though I work in solitary confinement as a freelance writer.

I’ve never been a fashionista. I like clothes. But I’m never sure what looks right on me. I’m too lazy to try things on and I feel like I never have the money to buy things that I think would make me fly.

Truth is, flyness is an attitude. A way of life.

And that’s not me.

I can pull it together for a night on the town. But in my day to day life, how I’m dressed doesn’t figure very prominently.

Until now.

A few months ago, I took a good long look at myself. (And my closet). And I did not like what I saw. Grubby sweats, ratty jeans, flats from Target that were run over, t-shirts that didn’t fit, dresses that were too big, too small, too old.

It’s frivolous, I know. And in the grand scheme of things, who cares what we’re wearing?

Work with me. I need a minute to be frivolous and completely gratuitous.

I asked my good friend, we’ll call her Little Miss Brown, to critique five days of outfits for me. Little Miss Brown is an executive at a luxury goods retailer. And she’s effortlessly fly. Always.

I told her to be no-holds-barred.

My goal is to look chic, pulled together and slightly sexy, (but not too sexy), every day. I’m almost 36. I have two children. And I schlep them both around a lot.

My hair’s going gray. And I can’t get in the gym as often as I’d like.

I’m getting old.

But that doesn’t mean I have to look like a schlub.

Herewith, everything I wore this week. And LittleMissBrown’s verdict. Gulp.

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