Your loving gives me a thrill.

...but your loving don't pay my bills, now give me mooooneeeeyyyy.

It's unhealthy that for every single situation I will ever go through, there will be a suitable Beatles song. It's not very productive because I'll end up spending half my life singing along to a song about something instead of doing that something.

Quite a few of you in the 666 Brooch giveaway (126 entries and counting) said I should do more purchase posts, so on to the purchasez:



AA Disco Pants (Ebay, $60), Union Jack belt ($4)

MY GODDAMN AMERICAN APPAREL DISCO PANTS FINALLY ARRIVED. I lost my banking key card this morning, and in the frenzied fury that ensued, involving me tearing the house apart and taking 5 minute breaks to throw things at the wall and lie on the ground moaning in frustration, the deliveryman came past bearing these sweet, sweet, long overdue pants. I wore them for the next 3 hours, studying, making Easy Mac, tearing the house apart again in the hope my key card would materialise, and finally dancing to The Kinks until I realised that I was spending more time touching my pants than I was studying. These pants are insane. They're actually PANTS. And they're so so so tight but at the same time the most comfortable pants that have ever touched my scaly, Winter-afflicted legs. How is that even possible?

I just realised I wrote a whole paragraph on a pair of pants. Needless to say, I'm in love.



Thrifted tulle kid's dress that I cannot even fit over my boobs so I'm probably never going to end up wearing it ($4) and thrifted trashy parrot button-up that makes me feel like a rich businessman holidaying in the Carribean ($3).



Thrifted too-small brogues ($5), Plaid high waisted skirt ($4), Boy's khaki green (is that even a colour?) high waisted tapered pants ($3)



Oversized purple button-up ($5), AGAIN, ANOTHER KID'S DRESS THAT DOESN'T EVEN FIT ME. I need to stop buying kid's shit. Who am I kidding? ($3), Tokito petal skirt from Myer ($50 on sale, bought with birthday gift card)

Below: Thrifted cream tapered pants ($12), plaid tapered pants ($5)...yeah I'm getting a bit obsessed



Aaaand finally, what I look like in the middle of study. Sleepy, awake only on fear of failing and Red Bull, messy, half-up, half-down hair. And my study station - if you've been reading long enough, you'd remember that I used to study on the floor. I still do. My set-up is just far more sophisticated and less holy-shit-I'm-going-to-get-back-problems-when-I'm-64. Speaking of studying, in the coming months, my blog posts are going to become less and less coherent, delayed, and rushed. Why? Because blogging takes ages and my textbooks stare at me from the floor like I've murdered someone. I can hear them whispering, "You're fucked for the HSC". So, I'm sorry in advance.

Also, I'm on Facebook now, like the page and I'll send gnomes to your house (pleasant gnomes). It'll mainly be for blog/shop updates. And now I'm going to wrap up this post before it spirals into the next century. Why is this post so long? Why am I asking so many rhetorical questions?

Vast.

Christopher Kane has been Tumblrin' lately and has tapped into the hipster psyche, because the hipster inside of me wants to do a big bellyflop into these prints and take a mad intergalactic space swim. It's no secret I have a bit of an obsession with space prints (me and every other teenage girl that exists...), and I'm a sucker for digital prints. Digital prints would rock my world if they didn't cost $800000 and my soul, and were thrift-able.



I just have a problem with the shoes - they look like a fusion of 90s pornstar bedroom slippers and a craft project gone wrong more than anything else. Give me some sculptured wedges and I'll be geared and ready to travel to the edge of the universe.

Oh, and WOW at all the entries so far. I didn't know you guys would be so keen. Thank you for all your flattering comments (my ego is the size of Saturn right now), and your half hearted attempts at criticism, you no-good, too-kind, generous followers of mine, you. I'll work on what you guys have said so far - what you want more of. But the header is here to stay. What other blogger has a pair of legs, a squirrel (?) in a band uniform, a space babe, a deer and a film camera in one header? It's, like, all the elements of a good day combined into one image.



Christopher Kane Resort 2011

666: Brooch Giveaway.

So, last night during my note-making and red bull-dranking (for the sake of rhyming), I checked my blog and lo and behold: 666 followers. I know people usually do giveaways and celebrations when they hit whole numbers, but what's the point in that? I'm here to celebrate the fact that my worshippers are all minions of Satan. I hope you guys enjoy your complimentary shaky-red-bull-afflicted-mouse-made devil horns. Complimentary devil horns: just one of the ways that my blog enriches your life (I know I'd be stoked).

But on to the actual giveaway. (I hear you cry, WHAT, JESS? There's MORE? I was pretty happy with the complimentary devil horns).



I'm giving this amazing vintage carousel horse brooch that I got off Etsy. It was way more expensive than a brooch should be, but I will probably never wear it again so I might as well pass it along to one of my lovely readers.

What you have to do:
1. Make sure you are following me either via Google Friend Connect (the "Follow button on the uppermost bar on my blog, or down the sidebar) or via Bloglovin.
2. Leave a comment telling me what I could improve on (no seriously, guys, I need constructive criticism e.g. what you want to see me post more of, less etc), how you're feeling and your e-mail.
3. Either I will use a random number generator or I'll number my bunnies and make them race each other (depends on how much I feel like procrastinating) to determine the winner.
4. I'll pay for the postage, and it's open to everyone around the globe (meaning if you're from Uzbekistan and you had doubts, join in).
5. Follow me on Twitter or Facebook if you want. Look at me, e-whoring myself like nobody's business.
6. That's all.
7. Complimentary dot point to go with your complimentary devil horns.
8. It'll finish on the 8th of the 8th (August) to keep with the recurring number theme.



It's the same one I wore here (Dead Hearts):


P.S. GUYS, I didn't mean to offend anyone with the whole 666 thing. I know you aren't a Satan worshipper.

Well dressed males.

I'm at home, trying to study. Instead, I'm watching Valentine's Day, looking at street style photos of well dressed men who are 1. too old for me, 2. 59248592km away from me, 3. probably only exist in the realm of my imagination and online.

It sucks that 99% of all the guys my age are under the impression that dressing well is synonymous with "BRO I'M NOT A GAY LORD", "Nah man I can't wear those pants IT RESTRICTS MY TESTICLE FREEDOM, FORREALZ."

STLYECLICKER, The Sartorialist, Mr. Newton, STREETFSN

Intergalactic, you and me.

First off, I got Jinxed!. Yay.



Because I'm going out approximately 0 times for the next 17 years of my life...I'm going to take every opportunity I get to dress up. I wore this to a local restaurant in Bankstown. Here's how it went down in my household last night:

"DUDE ARE YOU FUCKING READY, YOU TAKE 17 YEARS TO DRESS."
*Jessica steps out of room*
"..."
"..."
"..."
"Are you serious?"

I love my family. And when I was trying to take outfit photos, it was so ridiculous because my sister spotted my elderly neighbour walking out of her house (which I was, coincidentally, STANDING IN FRONT OF, in THIGH HIGHS) so we had to awkwardly leg it back to my backyard and camp out until she retreated back into her den for good.



The cape made me feel like a superhero, or the grim reaper. Like the grim reaper had a baby with a super hero and their arms got tragically removed in a shark-related incident. I felt like a death eater. For real. Courtesy of Black Milk Clothing, who seriously make the best shit in the worldddddddd.

Thank you to We Love Colors for the rad thigh highs. Before this, I don't think I would've ever imagined wearing stripy clown thigh highs. And for Australian residents, they have free shipping over $30, so check them out for more warm leggy goodness.





Cape Black Milk Clothing
Skirt: Material off ebay, my friend constructed it.
Leotard: Supre.
Socks: We Love Colors
Dodgy, dogy heels: Payless, 600 years ago.
Belt: Thrifted



One of my favourite books, my new best friend, my butt.

Love is no big truth.

Just a quick post before I return to the mountain of essays that await me in the depths of my bedroom (5 in total). I know, another lovey dovey so-cute-I-could-puke photography post. Deal with it. I like looking at pictures of people kissing. Creepy? Nahhhhhh.

Expect a ridiculous outfit post tomorrow - I'm going out to dinner with the family tonight and I've decided to push the limits of my parent's incomprehension at my dress sense.

Also...ADELE?! Goodness. She's like Duffy but less in your face/more depressing. Favourite song on the album.



Untitled by bunnyy jenny



Untitled by hαyley



Untitled by *couleurs*



17/365 - Love in the city by Zoe - trope (Zoe Cusker)



Watch those hands Mr. by Darien Chin



Snow White and the Seven Dwarves by r9M



Untitled by emily hayward



* by clumsy bird

Junior Jess.

Let me introduce my sister. Jennifer, 12 years old. First year of high school. My outfit photo slave. She knows how to cook. I don't. My sister basically takes care of me, and I love her for it.

She takes my outfit photos for me (and hates it), she helps me find things I've lost (which happens about 7 times a day), she critiques my thrift finds. She also dresses like a tomboy. And I decided to style her, I thought she looked like the qtest thing ever. She hated it.





Wearing (all from my closet, minus the shoes):
Shirt: Cotton On Body
Skirt: Thrifted
Belt: Thrifted
Bag: Thrifted
Shoes: Payless Shoes

BUY YOU A DRANK.

The only reason my title is a T-Pain song is because APPARENTLY, this outfit is majorly prostitute. As in I look like a baby prostitute (MEAN GIRLS REFERENCE, ANYONE?). I didn't realise until I put my trench coat on and it suddenly hit me...leather look leggings with mesh cut outs, leather platform boots, and a motherfucking TRENCH COAT. I looked like a prostitute. Consequently, on the train trip home, I am so sure that 70% of the people sitting in my carriage probably took one look at me and said (mentally), "Poor girl. Her life is so unfortunate. I can't imagine what it would be like to have to resort to prostitution at that age."

So. My brain flow: prostitutes > stripping > I'm in Love With a Stripper > T-Pain (is it even by T-pain?) > LET ME BUY YEW A DRANK OOOOH WEEEE OOOH > Gets stuck in my head for the next 17 hours.





White blazer: Thrifted
Peach silky "curtain" (Thanks, Aaron) top: Tattoo
Leather look mesh cut-out badass leggings: Black Milk Clothing
Black platform boots: Birthday babies.
Jewelery: Mostly F21.
Bag: Thrifted.

Hey! For once in my life only, like, 20% of my outfit is thrifted.





These leggings. So amazing. So, so amazing. I've been a big fan of Black Milk Clothing ever since I opened my blog (one of the first things I ever blogged about), so I was super stoked when James from Black Milk Clothing sent me a few pairs of what are most possibly, the best leggings in the world. Seriously, check out their new body suits. SO. BAD. ASS. I'm dying for The Spaceman/The Moonwalker, but it's sold out. Poop on my life.

A huge thank you again to James for these rad leggings, despite the numerous comments I received about them:

"Are those boots?"
"Are you wearing pants?"
"PROSTITUTE."

Nonetheless, they're currently the best thing in my life right now.

Watch out for that tree.

Button up shirt: Thrifted.
High waisted shorts that used to be weird mid length pants: Thrifted.
Fake docs: K-Mart.
Chunky scarf
Satchel: Thrifted
Grainy pictures: Sorry! I oversharpened them accidentally.
Leather J: Sunnygirl

What I wore to go to ~coffee school~ and pretend to be a barista for a day. Seriously, so amazing. They just gave us unlimited supplies of coffee and milk and we made cups of coffee and just threw them out immediately. Being the stupid asshole I am, ignoring the fact I DON'T KNOW HOW TO MAKE COFFEE, I was hungry...so I kept drinking the cups of coffee I was making. Consequently, my stomach punished me for the rest of the day by giving me mind bending cramps.





Explanatino of the title: My friend Jess decided that in this outfit I looked like Jane from Tarzan. Cool beans.