I really hate ballet flats & other thoughts
Welcome to a new series: Current Closet. I decided to do this for two reasons: 1) because I haven’t talked about clothes in a hot minute and 2) it will give me some kind of routine each month, which is kinda nice sometimes.
Today’s lesson: Some things I hate, some things I love.
You will never see me in a pair of ballet flats. Maybe It’s because I’m 5’2, or maybe it stems from my sister being a ballet protégé and I have almost zero dancing ability, but I hate them. I don’t like how they look on your feet, I don’t like how flat they are. Maybe it’s the way they elongate your feet in a most unflattering way. Maybe it’s how they never look natural or effortless, always like you’re trying to be conservative and neutral, but failing. Or maybe it’s the jealously towards my sister. It’s probably that. A little bit of me dies every time I see her go en pointe.
At twenty and three-quarters — because it matters, people! — I don’t know much. My dad likes to say that the gap between what you think you know and what you actually know is never wider than it is between ages 17 and 25. Unlike other things he’s said (that I shouldn’t date until I’m 30, shouldn’t kiss a boy until I’m married, that wearing denim cutoffs doesn’t count as wearing pants) that one actually rings true. I don’t know what I’m doing, not in life, not in love, not in the outside world.
What I do know for Certain is that I. Hate. Ballet. Flats.
Style is funny. For a while my mom just took care of it and it was all skirts and tulle and tights. And then I began to take a little bit of charge and it became leggings and hoodies and sneakers simply because I had no idea what I was doing. And then it became about my high school uniform and trying to funk it up with headbands and pins and neon spandex to wear under the skirt — high school was weird.
And then I went to college and winter went away and I suddenly fell in love with my leather jacket and never really took it off. And then I fell in love with silk tops and ripped tights and I got my tattoos and I bought a pair of leather pants and things kind of took off. And now here I am, like a mess of everything all thrown together.
In my twenty years of life I have come to gather a few Rules of Style a la ManRepeller.com
RULES OF STYLE – JULIA MARZOVILLA
- No toes: I have actually throw out all of my open toed sandals. A peep toe is fine, cute even, but full toe is never good. Something about the way they move.
- Cut it out! – Cut outs, on the other hand are sexy as hell, especially in shoes. Give me literally any kind of shoe with the side cut out and they’re mine. I once spent wayyy too much money on these Jeffrey Campbell booties, and I’ve worn them almost every day since.
- Yes to Ankles: I think a little ankle really elevates everything. Ankles that funny lower ribcage area, and shoulders.
- Chunky Heels: Simply because I can not yet move elegantly in a pair of stilettos.
- Leather: Pants, jackets, everything. Leather for every weather.
- Jackets: I just bought this one from Topshop and I’m in looove.
- Black jeans, always. I like these. I have two pairs: ripped and normal, and they make me look like I have a bum even though I 100% do not have a bum. They’r also boyfriend approved — there’s gotta be some weight in that, right?
- Adidas: This is really becoming a problem. I really shouldn’t buy anymore running shoes unless I actually plan to start running. Whelp. I also bought a pair of these, because I’m #basic.
(I probably could have smushed #5 and #6 together but #YOLO, amiright?)