MC & MK 4evar
On the way back from a Galveston weekender for my roomie's birthday, I declared to everyone in the car that I would like to be nominated for What Not to Wear on TLC. The idea sounded good at the time; I had been daydreaming/kinda sleeping during the long ride home, stuck in Houston traffic. While my (stylish) friends totally vetoed that idea later (they said I dress cute already, keke), the idea of "building" a wardrobe still sounded very attractive. And if I did this on my own, I don't have to look like a bumbling idiot on national television (except I don't get $5000). Plus, I've heard what my voice sounds like on tape, and let's just say that I'm not too far away from sounding like Bea Arthur (may she rest in peace).
The reason why I need to start building a wardrobe is because I am tired of wearing grubby, maroon Texas A&M t's with flip flops. There was a time in my life when I thought I was too good for flip flops and never even owned a pair (seriously). And then A and I decided to go on that cruise last summer, and that's when I realized I didn't own any shoes that could stand to be sopping wet and not grow mold on it later. So I bought a pair of Reefs, and that pair of brown cardboard and I have been inseparable ever since.
Another reason is that once I DO buy nice things, NONE OF THOSE NICE THINGS MATCH WITH EACH OTHER. I've never been fond of being matchy-matchy, like wearing a green shirt with the same green for eyeshadows, but COME ON. How the hell am I supposed to work with 3 navy shirts and 3 pairs of dark jeans? And bright, printy tents for shirts and sacks for pants?
To find out where I went wrong, I started thinking back to the time when I didn't care for designer labels and wore whatever my moms bought me from TJ Maxx and Gap. And I am always trying to figure out ways to work Mariah Carey into my entries, so I will timeline this evolution of a wardrobe with MC's singles. You can be the objective judge of when things went bad with my clothes.
NOTE:
This is probably the longest post I've ever written. And sorry all the videos I uploaded from Youtube are crap, because the good ones don't let you embed. Greedy bastards.
Birth-4th grade
I used to wear my cousin's Pierre Cardin hand-me-downs (that brand was the shit in Korea) and Korean clothes with awkward English printed on it (examples: "KIDS-CHILDREN" or "BEARS MAKE ME FEELING NICE"). I was also unfortunate enough to not be exposed to the mega diva just yet. I always felt like there was this hole in my life that needed to be filled by a songbird who sings about luv and uses a thesaurus to rhyme. Little did I know...
4th grade
When I first arrived to America, my uncle and aunt took a picture of me at the Little Rock National Airport, and my sis and I were sporting undershirts with more Konglish gibberish on it. I still didn't really care about what I wore, because I was under the harsh rule of my mom, who would later become The Fashion Dictator of the Kang Sisters. She would later ratify dress codes that outlawed hoochie tops or hot pants. The Kang Sisters fought and cried for the right to wear hooch-wear from 2000-2005, and the Dictator finally gave up in 2007, because she had more important things to do. Like scheming to bring back the younger Kang Sister home after she realized she wanted to wear skanky stuff AND stay out after midnight. Still no sign of MC.
5th grade
My cousin (who gave me her Pierre Cardins) came to live with my family in America to go to school here. I still wore stiff button-downs from Gap, but my pant size grew astronomically with the onslaught of puberty. To hide my tiny bewbs and large hips, I started to wear XL Winnie the Pooh shirts with stretchy pants that let me eat and made room as I pleased. My cousin let me borrow her copy of Daydream from Korea, and my love affair with Mariah began from there.
6th grade
Seriously, finish this video. This is when she used to front and pretend to like dancing:
I started losing the hip fat from puberty, and my boobs were AA's by then. I only had one pair of jeans and thought that was normal until I visited a friend's house for a sleepover and learned that girls usually keep 5 pairs of jeans to choose from. My one pair of jeans from American Eagle seemed even more tattered and stretched out, compared to my friend's Abercrombie jeans that had premade stains on it. I listened to a lot of MC's old songs on her #1's album, and I'd learned to like "Someday" and "Vision of Love."
9th grade-11th grade
Rainbow, Glitter, and Charmbracelet just went over my head. MC continued to live in a land with rainbows, unicorns, and Hello Kitty while I listened to John Mayer and Coldplay to drown out my angsty sobs from arguing with my parents about how often I can go out (once a year, if I was lucky) and how long I can stay out (until 8pm). I also liked to wear tight yoga pants to school, and my dad was not cool with me letting the world know I was wearing an ill-fitting thong under it. I finally moved to Arlington, Texas, during my junior and my hatred for my parents grew, because they told me only a week before the move, just so I could pack in time.
12th grade
Because I lived in a city with more than freaking 50,000 people, I found stores like Wet Seal and Banana Republic. This is when my wardrobe got confused, because my inner fob loved BR but the cheap teen in me wanted to shop at Wet Seal and F21. And THE EMANCIPATION OF MIMI finally proved to the world that MC is hip and happenin' again. She continued to look pretty and sit in front of a wind machine while only showing off the right side of her face.
College, year 1-year 2
Just like any good college student, I stocked up on bright polos and A&M t-shirts to wear with 200-dollar jeans. I also started wearing Hollister (*shudder*), because it seemed like the right thing to do. Little did I know that Hollister shirts fall apart after just one washing, and that everyone knows when you bought that graphic t because everyone and their mom (LITERALLY) wore it last summer. MC was MIA, because she was working on her latest masterpiece, E=MC2. I also stopped arguing with my mother about stupid shit, because I lost interest in tube tops and booty shorts. I also found out in college that my mom is in touch with reality more than I had previously thought.
College, year 3
This is the year I met A, and the summer before that, I got a lot of allowance but stayed at home because I didn't really have anything to do, so I went shopping instead. I experimented with expensive muumuus, weird sandals that weren't flip flops, and chunky jewelry (my Mrs. Roper phase). A still liked me despite my Goddess look, and once we got comfortable, I stole his Mavs shirts and wore his boxers to sleep. MC was still working on her new album.
Now
I don't wear muumuus anymore, but I keep wearing shirts and dresses that hang like sacks. It doesn't help that this kind of crap is "in." Am trying harder to wear more fitted, flattering shirts for a grad student look. A look that says, "Hey, I don't do beer pong anymore." I am still rocking out to this song when I decide to work out once a week:
