How to Dress Like a Fashion Stylist

Guest Post by Sophia Smith.

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Looking perfectly fashionable and chic like a celebrity does not take much. All you need is a personal stylist. But hiring a stylist is not something ordinary people can afford so easily. Luckily, a lot of them are willing to share their secrets with the rest of the world. Here are our favourite tips from fashion stylists.

 

Start with the Basics

One of the things many stylists agree on is that timeless pieces should be the foundation of any woman’s wardrobe. Of course, a few trendy new garments that are close to your fashion sensibility are always welcome, but being fashionable does not necessarily mean buying more.  Instead, your focus should be on quality and comfort

Start with the Basics

 

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In addition to being a win for your style, with perfect cuts that flatter your figure, these classic pieces are also a win for your wallet since they stop you from replacing your entire wardrobe every season with mass-produced fast fashion. Also, they are a win for the entire planet. If you stick to sustainable clothing brands you can rest assured that the materials they use are organic and that their production does not harm the environment.

 

Here is our top 5 classic fashion checklist:

  1. Little Black Dress – Made famous by Audrey Hepburn, the LBD is an everlasting symbol of grace and style. What is so special about it? Well, we have 2 words for you: body-flattering and black.

 

Little Black Dress

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  1. White T-shirt – This endlessly versatile piece of clothing can be worn with jeans or tailored pants, and look ever so chic in either combination.

 

  1. Breton Top – Take a white T-shirt, add some blue stripes to it, and you get a high-end fashion staple piece. This chic top was ‘discovered’ by Coco in 1917 and its popularity only seems to grow with time.

Breton Top

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  1. Wrap Dress – Or the one dress to fit them all! Wrap dress owes its high demand to the fact that it flatters all shapes and sizes.

 

  1. The Perfect Coat – To round up your looks, find a perfect coat. The styles of coats are very diverse and it is hard to say which one is the right one, but the accent here should be on quality and neutral colours anyway.

The Perfect Coat

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Shop for Your Size and Shape

So, you have found your perfect dress and bought it without even trying it? Wrong! Very often, a garment that looks perfect on the hanger or a mannequin turns out to be not so flattering to your body shape.

Shop for Your Size and Shape

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Always try things before you decide on purchasing them. Even when something does not seem like it will fit you, you cannot really be sure before you try it. And make sure to try different sizes. Many women buy loose-fitting clothes hoping that they will hide their flaws. In reality, they deprive your figure of any shape and make you look bigger.

 

 

Shop for Outfits Not Pieces

Avoid buying single pieces just because they are on sale, or they look cute. If you cannot think of at least three outfits you can wear a certain piece with, just pass it. You will appreciate this when you have an emergency and need to find an outfit combination fast. Keep this in mind especially when buying shoes and bags. If you always shop for shoes and bags at the same time, you will never again mismatch them.

Shop for Outfits Not Pieces

 

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The bottom line is to be comfortable and to like what you see in the mirror, but even more than that to be critical enough to tell when something is not working for you.

Any fashion tips you would like to add?

 

 

Author BIO:

Sophia Smith is Australian based fashion, beauty and lifestyle blogger. She could be described as fashion addict and life lover. She writes mostly in fashion and beauty related topics, mainly through blogs and articles. Sophia is regular contributor at High Style Life.

 

Find her on: Facebook  Twitter  Google +

The Thing Is by Ellen Bass

The Thing Is

by Ellen Bass

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to love life, to love it even
when you have no stomach for it
and everything you’ve held dear
crumbles like burnt paper in your hands,
your throat filled with the silt of it.
When grief sits with you, its tropical heat
thickening the air, heavy as water
more fit for gills than lungs;
when grief weights you like your own flesh
only more of it, an obesity of grief,
you think, How can a body withstand this?
Then you hold life like a face
between your palms, a plain face,
no charming smile, no violet eyes,
and you say, yes, I will take you
I will love you, again.

I loved him, and he broke my heart, and it is the saddest story of my life.

The Shower That Washed Everything Away

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My oldest is 5 years old, so that means I haven’t celebrated New Year’s Eve in any significant way for six, pregnant, breastfeeding, infant, toddler, kid years. But this New Year’s Eve, I was lacking all of these things because the kids left for their father’s at 4pm not to return for another day. I started the evening with a long overdue shower.

I’ve been in a bad place for a while, maybe two months in all. Divorce mediation was in October. Most of November was trial prep, and there was a TON of exhausting, tedious prep accompanied by ginormous checks that needed writing. My attorney wheeled all 7 of the 3 inch binders to court on a small dolly and I now join the millions of American’s in credit card debt. Then, there was a three-day trial in December. (Did I mention that only 5% of divorces make it to trial? Because that’s a statistic that I’m sitting on the wrong side of.) Then, I spent 6 days without my babies before Christmas and then celebrated (RE: cried, wallowed, white-knuckled through) my first Christmas as a divorcee. And finally, there will be one last day of trial in January because hell hath no fury like a financial expert who’s asked to part from money.

But it was New Year’s Eve. The night when we get to wash away all that dirty mess of the past and celebrate the possibilities that come with a shiny New Year. I love it. I’ve always loved New Years. I love that for ONCE I get to be okay with the idea of change. That it’s perfectly okay (and encouraged!) to party into the wee hours of the morning, sipping champagne and acting like a fool all in the name of letting go and embracing the possibility of a brighter tomorrow.  At least for one boozy night we can all clink glasses and agree that change is good, even if we all go back to clinging to our pasts and the familiar routines the very next day. It’s liberating and I love it so.So while I was taking this shower, I thought about these things. Then, I thought about the last time I celebrated New Year’s Eve in a significant way. It was 2008. We were in Costa Rica. We were supposed to attend a party on the rooftop of our small hotel but the utilities system of this Costa Rican beach town was taxed too heavy for the second night in a row, and because there was no electricity, there was no party. My husband and I sat on a darkened rooftop, alone, overlooking a darkened town and listened to the revelers in far off places. We watched the fireworks and all we had to eat was one apple. I thought about that trip. One of our many trips to tropical places. I thought about the night before New Year’s when we had dinner in town, and when the lights went out, we went to the beach and stood by strangers at a bon fire. Drunk, I ran into the ocean with a skirt on holding it up above the waves. I still swear a crab bit my toe in the dark. I thought about what a good time we had together.

Until that moment I hadn’t allowed myself to think about anything good we had. I’ve had so many feelings toward my ex in the past few years, and love was way far down on the list, but standing in this warm shower on New Year’s Eve I allowed myself to feel this emotion. Before I even knew what I’d done I looked up and I said out loud, “Holy shit. I used to love him,” as if this idea was the most foreign thought I’d ever come up with in my whole life. The very next moment I felt my entire body exhale. It was if every cell let go of whatever it was holding onto and whooshed down the drain. It was visceral and real, and I’d never felt anything like it in my life.

I loved him. I loved him. I loved him. Under all this self-righteous anger and disappointment and white-hot fury of the past year, there was this deep, ocean of sadness that came riding in on the tiny pieces of my broken heart. All this time I had not allowed myself to feel my own broken heart.

After my body released, I nearly fell over right there from that tidal wave of sadness. It came at me from every direction, all at once. I put my hand against the wall to steady myself from the sudden piercing pain I felt of allowing myself to feel my broken heart. I cried for two days, and went unshowered for two days, afraid of the ghost which found me in there.

I didn’t go out on New Year’s. After that shower, I stayed in. I ate a peanut butter, banana and honey sandwich at midnight with a bottle of bubbly I found in the downstairs closet left over from the days when we were together. I watched Netflix. I let off a white Chinese lantern I’d saved from the Fourth of July. And I did it alone. It was painful, and beautiful, and cathartic and it made me ache all over. I had finally let the sadness in, and it cleansed and suffocated me all at the same time. Because I did love him.What came as more of a shock, was after this moment, I started to believe not only that I could forgive him, but that I already had forgiven him. Along with the gut-twisting, rush of sadness, there came a deep vessel overflowing with forgiveness.

Forgiveness for him being a flawed, imperfect man, because that’s all he is — that’s all we all are. Forgiveness for all the wrong he’d done and all the apologies he never gave, and never would. Forgiveness for all the anger and accusations he tossed so lightly in my direction over the course of a year. Forgiveness for his lack of respect, for not loving me, for not being capable of vulnerability or being able handling mine with care. I even felt like I’d forgiven his parents for abandoning me in this city where I moved to be near them, where they were my only family for eight years. I felt I’d forgiven them for saying and writing horrible things about me to the professionals thinking they are defending their son without a thought toward what they were doing to their grandchildren’s mother. Forgiven all of them for not ever seeing me, really seeing me after all these years.

And the forgiveness train didn’t stop there. Because I acknowledged and forgave him for being a flawed and broken man, I forgave myself, too, for the very same thing. For all the times I couldn’t just let it go and forgive sooner. For all the times I had to make my point again and again and again. For all the times I shut down out of sheer exhaustion from never being heard. For all the ways in which I was wrong. For not allowing them to see me, really see me after all these years.

All of this happened because I allowed myself to let go of the anger and feel the sadness that comes when we hone in on the Painful Truth with a capital P and T. And the Painful Truth of this matter is…  I loved him, and he broke my heart, and it is the saddest story of my life.And even though much of what he’s done is not okay, and never will be okay… I’m going to be okay. The past is gone, today is a brand new shiny day, and even if it’s not great… it’s still going to be okay.

((Raises martini glass))

To possibilities. If only for a little while, I will embrace change like an old, kind lover; letting go of the past, appreciating what I have right in front of me, and looking forward to a bright, bright tomorrow. Cheers.

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