The Little Bra Company

I have small boobs. That's a given, once you look at me. When I was in middle school, and all my friends' boobs were coming in, I excitedly waited for mine. They never came. Over the years, I've gone through many stages of mixed emotions on my little boobs, but have come to appreciate and actually prefer my smaller chest over more voluptuous ones. Small boobs are more high fashion (when have you seen a Vogue editorial with DDs?) and I don't need to wear a bra or even bikini top with serious support like gals with probably C+ boobs do. Plus, big boobs just aren't my style (side note: I actually am really fascinated with big boobs. I love them, but they're just so not me). I just feel like I would be really uncomfortable with them and afraid that I'd look like one of those heavily-made up skanky Asian chicks. Many girls can pull off big tatas - I am not one of them.

However, small boobs aren't without their disadvantages. While it's nice to have a smaller chest for the reasons stated above, finding bras and bikinis can be a laborious task. Growing up, I always wore Victoria's Secret because they were the go-to brand of every teenage and college girl. They were younger and prettier, unlike the matronly bras at many department stores. But I really, really didn't know my size. I'd start out with 32A, because that was always the smallest size, but then would sometimes purchase 34A (totally wrong!). A couple times I was measured to a 32B, and one time a few years ago at Bloomingdales, the lady measured me to be smaller than a 32, but told me they only carried 32. So I then started buying 32B bras. But even after purchasing all these bras in a plethora of small sizes, they almost always gapped at the top of the cups (especially when sitting), and looked too big for my body. I rarely bought bras anymore - the time-consuming failure of a search had turned me into a bra-pessimist. Woe was me.

The bras that fit the best until TLBC. From top to bottom: Victoria's Secret Pink Push Up Bra 32B, Victoria's Secret Dream Angels Demi Bra 32B, H&M printed bra 32B, The Little Bra Company Yvonne 30B

Then one day, I randomly came across a video on YouTube and discovered The Little Bra Company. These bras are made especially for petite women and small boobs such as my own. After much debate and research on bra styles and sizes, I ordered the mocha Yvonne Bra in a size 30B. When I received it, I finally knew what a properly-fitting bra should be. It was almost perfect - maybe slightly tight in the band and a smidgen small in the cup, but I'd read they stretch, so it was fine. I did the LBC's scoop technique, and lo and behold - I was boobilicious! Or more accurately, I gave off the impression that I was boobilicious. From the side particularly, my boobs actually looked somewhat big. Not only did the bra fit, the bra was pretty. The lace detail on the band and the straps adds a nice feminine touch, so if I ever wanted to wear a shirt where they may be exposed, I wouldn't need to worry about thick ugly lactating-bra style straps showing. I fill out the cups and there is no gapping. Finally, I'd found a bra that fit. And because I was so excited, I wanted to get many more. Next on my list? The Lucia, possibly the Sascha if a strapless is needed, maybe the Nicole for something more fun?

I've recommended these bras to my fellow small-breasted friends and will continue to do so. Just as big boobs need specially designed bras, so do little ones. Now if only TLBC expanded to swimwear (hint, hint)!

For reference, I am 5'4", approx 97 lbs, size 24/00/XS, extra narrow torso.

Vintage Peignoir

The only thing I miss about my old, odious job from 2008-2011? The House of Return thrift store on Washington, just a minute away from the office. It's a no-frills type of place run by some lady with lots of makeup and heavy brown bangs who really isn't too friendly, but who cares? This is a Jewish thrift store, not Barneys. As long as she isn't a total heinous bitch, I don't mind. I can usually find something great and unique here, and that alone overrides the lack of customer service. Of course this type of store isn't as edited as a place like The Way We Wore, and you have to dig through lots of faded black Express dresses from the mid-90s and shoulder-padded Escada suits to find your silky beaded tops, but it's totally worth it.

Anyway, after a short day at work a couple weeks ago, I decided to make the trip out to Culver City and take a gander at what was in store. Immediately, I found this lacy, perfectly flowy peignoir set sitting in front of their "designer" rack. It's by vintage designer Tosca, and similar or exact peignoir sets like this go for $200+ online (under $50 for me!). I pictured myself in this, perched at my mirrored vanity whilst spritzing perfume on or powdering my face with a big, exaggerated pouf. I had to have it.

The picture obviously doesn't do it justice. It's super pretty and delicate, with pearl buttons, and is in excellent vintage condition. Once I get my own place, I will wear this and float around my apartment with a cigarette and glass of champagne in hand. I mean, what else would you do with a peignoir set such as this?

P.S. The cigarette is all for looks. I think smoking is one of the worst things in the world, next to bleu cheese and dentists.

BBMine

So... I'm a bad Asian. I can't speak my language, I'm bad at math, and I just bought my first BB cream. And I love it (the cream).

About a year ago, I posted about Laura Mercier's Tinted Moisturizer and how much I loved it, that I had found a makeup product I would happily smear all over my face. And while I do love it, for some reason, I just never really wear it. I still have the tube, but I don't wear it regularly, or even once a month. I think it's because although I do like it, it's not very matte, and it makes my face feel kind of slippery or wet or something. I know, I know. This can probably be fixed with some loose powder. But I really don't like the feeling (and look) of a lot of makeup on my skin.

That is, until I bought the Missha Perfect Cover BB cream last week. I was at the Japanese store inside the mediocre Westside Pavilion mall, and picked it up in shade 23. It wasn't a complete impulse buy - I had researched this particular BB cream before and had the same cream in shade 27 in my Amazon cart. 23 was the darkest shade the store had (for all the Asians who want pale, porcelain skin), but I wanted to buy it anyway because it was available in person.

As it goes whenever I get new beauty products, I went online immediately for reviews. I had heard that Asian BB cream shades were slightly grey and that was what worried me most since I'm tan with yellowish undertones. Another concern was that I seemed to be darker than most of the reviewers who used this shade. Most recommended shade 23 for NC25-30 skin tones, and I think I'm more of an NC30-35+. But surprisingly, this BB cream was fine. It comes out of the tube greyish, but oxidizes into my skin without any major issues. It's thicker than my Laura Mercier TM, but it also leaves my skin more matte, and really doesn't feel like I'm wearing anything on my face. It evens out my skin and covers minor flaws like undereye darkness. And the best part? The SPF42, and the supposed fabulous qualities it has - anti-aging, whitening, and overall evening out of the skin.

And even though shade 23 works fine for me, I'd probably still try shade 27 because I do think it would be a better match overall. I've read it has more yellow undertones and is more suited to those who are NC30+. I think the 23 may leave a very slight grey cast on me, but nothing that anyone would really notice unless I pointed it out. I would also recommend the Asian brand BB creams over the American versions. I've heard the American ones are just glorified tinted moisturizers without as many skin benefits, and I always like to use the version closest to the original as possible.

So far, I've worn it every weekday (I avoid makeup Saturday mornings/afternoons) and I haven't felt like I did with the Laura Mercier - somewhat wet, and afraid that if I touched it with anything, it would leave a big orange/brown smear. We'll see how long this honeymoon period lasts. I find it really hard to continuously use certain makeup products on a daily or regular basis. Aside from eyeliner or mascara, everything else just kinda sits in my bag and expires (hello Tom Ford Indian Rose lipstick). But so far, so good!

Update 3/19/13: Still loving and wearing this BB cream on a week-daily basis! I think the combo of high SPF + slight coverage did it for me. It's more than just a makeup product, it's a skincare product as well. I just ordered the 27 from the Missha site, however, so we'll see how that goes. Hopefully it'll make me more glowy.

Updates

Fall trees in LA!  Off Barrington, south of Santa Monica

Cliche...

Time - where has it gone?  Clearly it hasn't been spent on my blog! 

It's been over a year since I've moved back from my brief (but exciting) 6-month stint in NYC, and it feels much less. I haven't even been back for a visit due to career/job stuff, family issues, and weather. I still miss it, and often have dreams I'm back there again (a strange, dreamy NYC that is really not NYC).  

Though the professional fashion part of my life has been put on hold indefinitely, I'm pretty satisfied at where I am now. I've had many past jobs with horrible work environments, and never one that I was mostly satisfied with. It was always one of these, or all: lazy coworkers, people who blame you for things because they can't take responsibility, lazy, cowardly bosses, bitch bosses, unmotivated people, etc. So far (knock on wood), I have none of these people at my job now and it is glorious. Like I've said before, it isn't a seemingly-glamorous job filled with fashion weeks and clothing samples, but for now, it's probably the best I could have hoped for.  I mean, it pays! Crazy, right?

As for fashion... for now, this is being practiced in my personal life. Before this job, it had been over a year that I made real, consistent money (with the exception of the one month fashion week freelance) and I so missed the freedom to shop.  It seems like this has been a constant battle with myself, but I'm really trying to spend less on the cheaper, "fast" things, and focus more on the long term. For me, that means no trendy things like studded jackets, neons, pastels, bib collar necklaces (these should go away), polyester lovelies from H&M and F21, etc. Instead, it's more basic items like higher quality knits, silk blouses, anything without uber-trendy details. I'm also trying to wear everything in my closet. I have probably ten or more articles that I've never worn that I'm "saving" for unknown, nonexistent events. I'm making it a point to break these out and wear them. Life is short!

I really need to add more pictures on my blog, but all I have are phone shots!  

Until next time.

Issues

Somewhere in the midst of business lunches at Sur and constant planning meetings at work, my team (I have never worked in a place where I was on a "team") has gotten to know me as someone characterized by many "issues".  These "issues" aren't as serious as they seem.  They're more like pet peeves, quirks, and stories I've remembered growing up that have shaped me into the peculiar person they know me as today.  I'd like to share some of these here.

I've never been an athletic person.  I think it's partially genetic and partially because I always associated athleticism with masculinity, and I'd always been a girly-girl - the kind who put things like dollhouses and Easy Bake Ovens on her Christmas list.  In school, I hated P.E almost more than math (but still hated math most).   Growing up, I would find any excuse to skip running the miles on Monday (forged period-cramp notes from my mom), and looked forward to the end of required P.E. after the tenth grade.  I've been very open about this over the years, but when I was in elementary school and more insecure around kids who just loooved P.E., I pretended to be just as enthusiastic.  Just to be fair though, P.E. in elementary school was a lot different from P.E. in middle or high school.  It didn't require earning a letter grade while sweating in hideous clothes (shapeless heather grey tshirts and blue knee length shorts - probably the most unflattering colors and styles I've ever worn) that sat and stank up my locker for a week.  No, physical education in grades 1 through 5 were given as a "reward" for good behavior.  Secretly, I wished that everyone behaved horribly so we could always skip it since for me, P.E. was more of a punishment than any kind of reward.  But my rotten classmates would often behave well and bestow the ill P.E. fate upon me.  So we'd play games like Capture the Flag or Heads up Seven Up on rainy days - games that I had no problem with because I wasn't really required to do much.  But then there were the other games - the games that made me feel sick to my stomach in anticipation of them, mostly because of my inaptitude and the embarrassment that was to come from it.  I would even try to use this sick fear feeling as an excuse to get out of participating with my teachers.  Unfortunately, they saw through these tactics and almost always made me play ("oh just plaaaay, have fun!").  Although it was an excuse to prevent humiliation, the sick stomach feeling was very much real.

These fear-inducing games were ones that put each kid in the spotlight - dodgeball, Steal the Bacon (hate), and one in particular I remember too well - baseball.  It was the third grade.  With the exception of this experience, I'd say third grade was a good year.  I loved my teacher Miss Reilly - she was young and pretty and super nice - and it was the year I got my Samantha doll.  But I was 8-9 years old and raised by FOB parents who probably didn't even know what all-American things like I dunno - spaghetti - were until they moved here in the 70s.  So I knew what baseball looked like, but I had no idea how to play it.  I think Miss Reilly went over the rules and such really quickly, but I still didn't understand it.  I was fine when I just stood far out on the field while the other team hit the ball (batted?) and I would just kind of half-ass run towards wherever it went.  But then it was my turn to hit it and I had to actually perform.  I remember thinking to myself "so I swing the bat, then run?  When do I run?  Do I have to hit the ball?  What if I can't hit the ball and everybody is staring at me?  What if I can't run fast enough?"

I don't quite recall every detail of this particular incident because I'm positive most of it has been pushed into a Freudian area in my brain, but I do know that I either swung the bat and ran, or was already on one of those bases and would run whenever someone else attempted to hit the ball.  But...I wasn't supposed to run, because apparently you're only supposed to run when someone actually hits the ball.  But I did anyway, and all the kids and my teacher were yelling at me, "GO BACK! Go back!"  Go back?  When was I was supposed to run?!  Confused, I ran back to my base.  But then someone would swing, and I would run, and again I'd hear "GO BACK, GO BACK!"  I was so lost.  How do you play this dumb game?  And I remember my dear Miss Reilly yelling at me in her sunglasses and wedge sandals, gesturing with her hands for me to go back, go back.  But I just kept running at the wrong times, because I didn't get the stupid ass sport, and over and over again it was "GO BACK! GO BACK!"  I was maybe only eight years old, but I know my face was all red out of pure humiliation and my mind was filled with WTF.

To this day, I still loathe P.E., and more specifically, baseball.  Yeah, I haven't taken a P.E. class in about ten years, but it's experiences like these that remind me of my disdain towards forced athletic participation.  I'm not sure if I'm the only sad child who has a story like this, but I'm hoping more unathletic children will share their traumatizing stories.  These on-the-spot type games put too much pressure on timid little kids such as myself, whom would have much preferred to have stayed inside playing with Samantha dolls or reading The Baby-Sitters Club.   Baseball is so painfully boring anyway.

I know I probably come off as totally physically incompetent, so just as an FYI (whether you believe it or not) - I was the only girl who was able to compete against the boys in the 7th grade high jump, and I kick ass in HORSE.

But don't get me started on volleyball.

All Work and No Play

I was hoping that the next time I posted would be something more exciting with pictures, but I really don't know what I'd post pictures of since my life the past month has been mostly consumed by work.  And unlike my most recent work history in fashion and in glamorous offices (WhoWhatWear), this job is a lot less glitz.  I mean, unless you want a picture of Fresh n Easy's logo?

But I really don't mind it.  Somewhere in the craziness of my current job, I turned a year older.  It was pretty anti-climatic.  I remember birthdays as a kid were always such a big deal.  Even the actual day felt special.  I'd wake up and I could tell that THAT particular day felt different from all the others.  I'd usually have an outfit picked out the night before, cupcakes or rice krispie treats prepared for my class, and I'd measure my height on the wall before going to bed and in the mornings.  Now they just feel like any other day, and they come and go so quickly.  Maybe at a more significant age (thirty isn't far and very frightening) that *special* feeling will return.  Or maybe it'll just welcome me with gray hairs and crow's feet.  I hope for the former. 

This job is super detailed and a lot of work, but the environment is pretty positive and so far I'm enjoying it.  My heart is still in fashion and will always be, but it's just not the right time for it - at least not professionally.  I still pursue it on a personal level, however, and have taken great pleasure in being able to financially support it again, even if just a little.

I'm going camping with the family this weekend.  I know, what the eff?  We're not campers.  I'm definitely not a camper.  I prefer civilization, hotels, and heels to I dunno, tents, bears, and those hideous velcro-strap hiking sandals.  I haven't started yet, but I have a feeling the packing part will be the most difficult for me.  Sister Moddy told me to not pack anything "cute".  So I pack all my ugly stuff?  Like t-shirts I've gotten for free from old jobs and "workout" shoes?  I think she even asked if I have a windbreaker.  Uh, no, actually I do not.  When will I have ever needed a windbreaker in my non-camping life?   And we're going on several hikes.  I haven't "worked out" since I've returned from New York.  Wish me luck.

I should sleep.  It's almost 2am on a Tuesday night.  I napped from about 7p to 11:30p tonight and work tomorrow again at 9.  Which means I'm completely re-integrated into my full-time work routine.

Vogue

I just had to pass up an opportunity to intern (unpaid, but of course) at Vogue. It sucked (the passing up part, not the opportunity).   

Picture is of Vogue Germany because I like this cover, but the internship would have been for American Vogue at the LA office.

Someday maybe I will figure out how exactly to combine passion + money.  I often wish I were super interested in accounting (impossible).

Work

So I got a job (finally!), and it may not be THE job, but it's decent enough and the location in the Pacific Designer Center is great. Christian Louboutin is walking distance (dangerous) and there are tons of places to eat in the area (Tender Greens, Urth Caffe).  Plus I get 18 days off a year, 4 additional summer days, one floating holiday, and that whole week of Christmas/New Years.  Yay!

I've been busy busy at it though, trying to learn everything since it's a bit different from what I was doing at my last media jobs. At my desk now gobbling down a Trader Joe's caprese salad for lunch. Thought I'd just give a quick update...