Short Cuts and Red Lips

Surprise: I cut my hair short again!

My hair is curly and thick, and, in the summer, often feels like I've wrapped my head in a mohair throw. I couldn't take it any longer. I showed up at the salon for a trim, threw my eight pounds of hair over my shoulder, and eyed the scissors longingly. My stylist (Julien Farel, if you're wondering) promised me he could cut a bob that, despite my hair's texture, would be wash-and-go.

I'm not dumb. I've had bobs before, and I've devoted hundreds of hours to disciplining them all with straightening irons because, left to its own accord, my short hair ends up resembling a yield sign. But I decided to take a leap of faith: A) Julien has done magical things with my hair; B) The combination of heat and humidity was starting to give me impromptu dreadlocks; and C) Dreadlocks can work on some people...but are mostly gross.

So I got this cut, below:

It actually almost kind of looks like the style in the photo, so long as I apply a healthy handful of Fekkai Glossing Cream to it every three hours. It also helps if you, like I, are legally blind in one eye. Nevertheless, success! I just have to keep hair products in my purse and maintain a 10' berth around all hoses and sprinklers and, um, rain. But give me credit: I'm not showing up to work with a topknot. (Don't even get me started on topknots. Nubby little topknots are the sweatpants of the hair world.)

However, I was nervous that, besides a triangular head of hair, a bob would put me in the "matronly" zone. (I'm turning 23 on Friday. Therefore, this is a legitimate fear.) Long hair is more feminine—so feminine, in fact, that my grandmother once said I looked like a "sexy hussy," which she meant as an well-intended insult. Insult or not, I was afraid I'd lose that along with the six inches of split ends. The fix? I took a cue from the same photo above and am now married to a dark red lip; my favorite, for both color and wear, is Chanel Rouge Allure Luminous Intense Lip Color in Inimitable. I layer it with balm to dilute the intensity and take the Gaga look down a notch. Note: Don't use lipliner unless you do like the matronly vibe.

Next up: Growing in my eyebrows. Also, posing. And the possibility of rompers. (All inspired by the above photo.)

Photo credit: UFOs Over Baghdad

All About Ombré

The other day, I went ombré.

See! Look! I did it!

I also spent two days trying to decide how I feel about it. I'd never gotten highlights or done anything besides dump a box of red hair dye on my head in college, so it was a bit of a shock. The wonderful Aura Friedman at the Serge Normant at John Frieda salon started the color higher up (just about even with my eye line) to accentuate the layers I hadn't previously appreciated or even really noticed. I love that the effect is really subtle, as we went with a chocolate-toned caramel color. Good to know: if you have dark hair and eyes as well as a warm skin tone, it's a safe rule of thumb to avoid going any lighter than the color of your eyes. Who knew?

What do you think? Would you go ombré? I'm just EXTREMELY relieved that it did not turn out looking like Miley Cyrus's dip-dye job..

The Perfect Pout

What's your favorite shade of lipstick?

Lipstick is, by far, my favorite product to try; it has an immediate effect that brightens and energizes the entire face. Plus, since I dress fairly casually (read: like a schlub) most of the time, a swipe of lipstick is the easiest way to look pulled together and somewhat polished in less than five seconds.

As much as I would love to love pink lipstick, it just isn't happening. I'm so obsessed with the neon-bright hue of Giorgio Armani Sheer Lipstick in Pink 8 that I just keep it on my desk and play with it a few times a day. And then I cry. But orange-red shades just flatter my skin tone more, and because Tangerine Tango is Pantone's much-publicized Color of the Year for 2012, orange-red lipsticks keep rolling across my desk (and incidentally, into my purse)(and my desk drawers)(beauty editors are the original hoarders). All I wear is FACE Stockholm Cream Lipstick in Gladje and Laura Mercier Crème Lip Colour in Tangerine. Both are hydrating, flattering, and saturated with color.

I think a staple lipstick shade is so telling about one's personality, almost like how your favorite kind of chocolate reveals something about you (mine is milk with almonds, for the record). I found a deep purple lipstick by Dior that I just KNEW had to go to my best hipster friend, because she's the only one cool enough to pull it off. So which is your go-to shade? Pale pink? Dark, classic red? 

Photo courtesy of: Eva Green Love

In the Summer Sun

Do you tan?

This weekend, I read this article in Self magazine about three women who give up the tanning bed. I've always been fairly consistent with wearing sunscreen in the summer, but thanks to my job, I'm now positively manic about it. One woman in the article said that she would "reconsider salons" after learning about alternative ways to reap the (few) benefits of UV light, such as vitamin D and serotonin boosts. Yes, reconsidering the tanning salon might be a good idea.

I'm vigilant about slathering sunscreen on my face and neck every single morning (I like Mario Badescu Oil Free Moisturizer SPF 30 and SkinCeuticals Ultimate UV Defense SPF 30), but I do admit that I'm not as careful about the rest of my body—specifically arms, legs, and ears. Do you use sunscreen every single day? I'm always tempted to skip when it's cloudy, but I have it so grounded in my routine that I rarely do so.

But to be perfectly honest, the best part of wearing sunscreen? Smelling like you're at the beach when you're (sadly) nowhere near it.

Photos courtesy of: Maudelynn's Menagerie and Sun Dance, both via Modern Hepburn

Style Set for Spring

This cool, cloudy, and hovering-in-the-50s weather isn't exactly my ideal, but here's the perk: it's perfect for wearing a leather jacket. I have a cropped, black leather jacket that I adore, but Chicago weather was never in-between enough (while I was there, at least) to really use it. It's the Goldilocks of fabric: leather doesn't provide enough warmth for chilly weather, and in anything above 70 degrees, it becomes your personal sauna of sweltering, sticky PAIN. (That's not hyperbolic). Therefore, the past few days in New York have brought glorious moments of just me in my leather jacket.

But let's be real, I'm looking forward to days with my leather jacket and ombré hair. That's right. It's been fashion editor-approved and happening soon. (Actually, my fashion editor is coming with me). (I have severe separation anxiety from which my bosses are not excluded). I've only colored my hair once and accidentally turned it a dark plum shade, so I'm a little apprehensive. However, I love ombré in all of its manifestations, so I figure I should try it out before I'm too old to play with my hair. Are you yay or nay for ombré?

Photo courtesy of: Dulceida, via From Paris to London

The Signature Look

I'm a huge fan of Garance Doré; I think she's witty, personable, and unbelievably charming. I'd like to make her my best friend at some point. One can usually spot her signature topknot hairstyle, and when I saw the above street-style photos, I got to thinking about signature touches, whether they be Alexa Chung's shoulder-length hair or Freja Beha Erichsen's (guys, you knew it was going to head in this direction) leather jackets.

I don't have a signature touch. Sometimes, I straighten my hair before work. When I remember to do so, I'll swipe on Nars lipstick in Casablanca. Mostly, I just let all of my makeup fall off before going home and washing off the remnants before bed. I feel like I should implement a signature something, but the intent to do so seems fraudulent and a little forced. One of my bosses has a perfectly frizz-free bob regardless of rain, shine, or monsoon, and the other wears bright red lipstick on the regular. One fashion editor likes to wear ankle boots with opaque black tights and flowing, floaty minidresses. I doubt any of them set off with the motivation of making each her signature look.

I can let nature run its course, but I don't want my signature look to be dark skinny jeans and chapped knuckles. Should I just let a "signature" happen or try to influence it with purposeful applications of mascara (for doll-like lashes) or orange lipstick (à la J.Crew catalogues)? Is a signature even a signature if you've lifted it from the pages of popular clothing store ad? Probably not. Earnest Sewn and a perpetual need for hand cream it is.

Do you have a signature look? I'm just going to wait for mine to develop on its own. Currently, I'm crossing my fingers and hoping to God that frizz-free, humidity-immune hair somehow happens.

Photos courtesy of: Chicago Street Style and The Photodiarist.

Your New To-Do

Are you feeling blue? A little down? Like a party popper? Unpoopular? (If you have no idea what I'm talking about, watch this RIGHT NOW. Then come back and finish reading.) Brighten up:

1. Soak in a bath for an absurdly long period of time. Bring a good book and clean, fluffy towels.
2. Swipe on red lipstick. It will boost your confidence so much that you'll smile at your reflection in every single window. Don't you feel better just thinking about that?
3. Organize your desk. A happy byproduct: your thoughts will be a tad less chaotic.
4. Order a cappuccino...to stay. No need to go on your merry way when there's foam to stir and sip. Sit down. SIT. DOWN.


[photo cred to 1, 2, 3 and 4]

Speak Now: On Fashion

“Girls do not dress for boys. They dress for themselves and, of course, each other. If girls dressed for boys they’d just walk around naked at all times.”

- Betsey Johnson




Sometimes, it seems that not everyone takes my work as seriously as I do. Some don't consider it serious journalism, or they assume that I spend my days playing with lipstick.

Others think that fashion doesn't demand the same rigor and attention that topics such as politics and international events do. This may be true to a certain extent, but I don't think it means that fashion and beauty are insignificant. I believe that both are related, and both have an impact on how you're perceived and how you carry yourself. You can't judge a book by its cover, but you also can't discount the benefits of making a good first impression. I got my job thanks to a great first impression on a beauty editor who made a wonderful first impression on me (clearly). Beyond that, how you perceive yourself informs self-image and confidence, both of which are vital for everything from job performance to learning ability. Beauty is one of the most accessible ways for women to boost self-confidence in even little ways, whether it be by swiping on lipstick or spritzing perfume. Is this less important than the third victim of Herman Cain's alleged sexual harassment or the verdict of Dr. Conrad Murray's trial? Should this easy way to improve a woman's self-confidence go ignored?

Fashion, too, goes further than the spectacle of runway shows and passing trends. Throughout history, it has reflected culture and identity. It can denote the values of an era (high-collared dresses of Victorian wear) and social status (constrictive corsets, representative of the repression of women). Fashion is a form of expression of all of these things, as well as a manifestation of individual beliefs and tastes. Often, fashion is painted as a trivial indulgence, but it's a freedom and a privilege to be able to wear what we choose. It has its excesses and controversies; find me an industry that doesn't. At its core, though, fashion is a way to present and represent yourself in a subtle and unique manner. Regardless of where you're from or how much you earn, you can define yourself with what you choose to wear.

I've struggled with this for a bit—people don't consider fashion and beauty writing to be hard-hitting journalism or an intellectual field. I may not be reporting on a precedent-setting court case or giving a how-to on the newest version of the iPhone, but, in my own small way, I'm providing the tools for a woman's improved self-perception and increased confidence.

Plus, I play with lipstick about 4% of the time—and that 4% is awesome.

[photo cred here]

At First Blush

There's a new makeup trend. I find these things out while I'm working. When I say "working," I usually mean painting my nails for a mini photo shoot or getting my eyelashes dipped in something or other. Sometimes, "working" means writing. I understand if someone wants to reach their arm through the computer and cyber-slap me.

Anyway, as I was saying: new makeup trend. Blush is on the up and up—literally. It's gone from the apples of the cheeks to the cheekbones and now, to the temples. Here's a prime example:

Pretty? Yes. Easy to pull off? No. Depending on placement and saturation, blush at the temples can have a sickly effect. Worst case scenario, it resembles a rough case of pink eye. Which is neither cute nor comfortable.

However, a few tweaks make it surprisingly easy to try in real life. Just keep a few things in mind: don't wear eyeshadow. At this height, blush does double-duty as rouge and eyeshadow. Secondly, try sweeping it from the cheekbones to the temples, as shown below. That way, you get the best of both worlds. Lastly, commit. A wimpy patch of pink is going to look exactly that: wimpy. Here, the perfect real-world execution of this trend:

Would you be game to try? Or is it too over-the-top?

[photo cred here and there]

Nailed It + A Giveaway

You know what feels great? Getting a fresh manicure and

waving your hand around like you're the Queen of England.

You know what also feels great? Persuading 200 poor Google followers/fellow bloggers to read my endless prattling about my life and/or objects that I find pretty. To celebrate, I'm throwing my very first giveaway: two fabulous Estée Lauder nail lacquers. The first is Metallic Sage, a very of-the-moment green-grey hue, and the other is Purple Passion, a vibrant lavender shade.

To enter, you must a) be a follower of Mellow Fever and b) comment on this post with your email (if it isn't available in your blog profile). If you Tweet about it, tag it with @deannapai and a link to this post for a second entry. A winner will be randomly selected on Friday. Bonne chance, mes petits choux!


(open to US residents only, sorry!)
[photo cred here + courtesy of Estée Lauder]

Note to Self

Don't forgo a little polish in the morning...

...because you never know when you're going to find yourself in Goldie Hawn's apartment, having a conversation with Melanie Griffith and sipping lemon water. When I interned at Allure, whipping out my favorite Nars lipstick in Flamenco became second nature. Now, I'm lucky if I can get clothes on before I tear out of my apartment, Tasmanian Devil-style, and run to the office/a meeting/an event. I realized today, while sitting on Goldie Hawn's couch and thanking God that I didn't wear an old Theory dress that totally has a stain on it, that I just feel more confident and put-together when I swipe on a bit of makeup (and don't wear clothes that are in dire need of a dry-cleaning). Hi, red lipstick. Hi, mascara. Hi, primer. Hi, laundry detergent/dry cleaner around the corner from my apartment. Let's play.


[photo cred here]

Feathered Fancies

I'm going to be up front about this: I'm pining for feather hair extensions. I'm fairly easy on my hair; I dyed it once, a color I thought was auburn but actually closer to an unfortunate shade of purple. My mom convinced me to go back to dark brown by pointing out that my hair didn't match my eyebrows. After that, that was all I could see in the mirror (my mother knows me very well). In comparison, feather hair extensions are a breeze.

However, this desire for feather hair extensions does not mean I want to look like I got on the wrong side of a pack of pigeons or was dragged backwards through the brush. For foolproof feathering, here are a few tips:
1. Neon pink feather extensions look like neon pink feather extensions. They also look as though you tried too hard to fit in when you went to a B-52s concert (in the hopes of hearing Love Shack played live, of course).
2. Therefore, find feathers that are as natural-looking as possible, ideally with shades that riff off your own hair color. This set of five loose feathers can work with anything from dirty blonde to dark brown.
3. Wear feather extensions with your hair loose and casual. These are not for the workplace (unless you're a beauty assistant)(eh, eh?)(just kidding)(kind of). Avoid perching a flock of feathers in upswept hair; a few can be elegant, but the look can turn a bit madcap, à la Marie Antoinette. She wore so many miniature birds in her updos that they had accompanying cages.
4. Don't have time for DIY feather extensions? A pair of long earrings, such as these pearl feather earrings, accomplish the look in seconds.

The key here, as with so many other things, is to keep it subtle. I am not a bird. I'm just a human being with a really big weakness for feathers.
[photo cred here]

Snip Snip

Have you seen Jennifer Aniston's new haircut, the grown-out bob? It makes me want to pick up the scissors and do terrible things. My hair is the longest it's been since seventh grade, when I chopped it into a pixie cut after a particularly devastating Valentine's Day dance, and now I'm itching for something like this. It looks so fresh and ten times more youthful than the classic bob, and I love how beautifully it frames her face. If I were to do it, I'd definitely need some side-bangs action, à la Heidi — mostly because I wouldn't know what to do with my hands if I wasn't constantly brushing my hair out of my face. 

What do you think of Jen's new do? (Allure interviewed her hairstylist, Chris McMillan, here if you're interested in knowing more).

[photo cred to 1, 2]

February Wishes

Here's to hoping February will be a little brighter and more sparkly than January! A few ideas to help you last til spring:

1. Blow a charming little kiss...
2. ...while wearing a pale coral lipstick (my staple is Nars in Casablanca).
3. Brush up on a classic book, like The Great Gatsby, and pretend you're actually a flapper.
4. Get bejeweled — more is more, especially against a simple black sweater.
5. Add a delicate bow. Just because you enjoy imported beer doesn't mean you're not a lady.

Also, since I clearly love to write lists, here's my first piece for Listicles! In the form of a list, no less.


[photo credit clockwise to 1 via Musings in Femininity, 2 and 3 via Patterson Maker, 4]

Lanvin Loves H&M

It's retro chic and back to the '50s this winter, according to the looks from the Lanvin ♥ H&M collection runway show. I'm usually wary of wearing both a bright lip and accentuated eyes, but these are subtle enough that I think I could take the plunge. I think it's the fact that everything else is just so groomed and polished, from the perfectly arched eyebrows to the flawless complexions. I'm back in New York for Thanksgiving, and I'm so incredibly pleased to be going to get my eyebrows waxed in about two hours because well ... they need it. Plus, the timing is perfect to try out this new look for Thanksgiving dinner. With lips like these, no one will suspect that I'm the one swiping all of the cranberry sauce.


I had the most awful time getting home yesterday. The flight was ideal, particularly for Chicago — an hour and a half long, no layovers, no delays. My sister and I arrived with an hour to spare, and as we were checking our luggage, I realized that my ring was missing. This isn't just any ring. It's a silver snake thumb ring that I found for five Euros in Rome, and I'd worn it every single day since I was fifteen. My dad had mentioned that he thought thumb rings were the tackiest jewelry on the planet, so this was my own personal and very tame teenage rebellion. After going through security, I emptied my bag on a chair to search for this ring, which was nowhere to be found. I crumpled up on the floor of the airport, sobbing while my sister tried frantically to console me. I  eventually collected myself, sulkily refused to wipe the trails of mascara running down my face, and left the terminal to go back to the curbside check-in, but the ring wasn't there either. I gave it up for lost, miserable and furious that I didn't take better care of it. Later that night, though, as I wriggled out of my jeans, my ring flew into the air. I've lost some weight (particularly in my hands, for some reason — is this not the most pointless place to lose weight from?) and as I was pulling my pants on yesterday morning, my ring had slipped off and settled comfortably in the pant leg of my Earnest Sewns. The moral of the story is to buy a reaaaaally awesome present for my little sister, who put up with the weepy, complaining, and utterly despicable me like a champ.

[Photo cred to French Vogue]

Bonne Chance

I found this via A Cup of Jo and I can't stop watching it. The dreamy French melody, that pale orange lipstick, and her bright smile are enough to make me want to buy every single thing in J. Crew. Lucky for me, I'm about five feet from the beauty closet and approximately ten seconds away from poaching a citrusy lipstick like hers. Full disclosure: I also want to spin around in my underwear with some Charlotte Gainsbourg in the background.

Braids, Refreshed

Ever since Alexander Wang featured thick, rope-like side braids on his runway, they've been everywhere. Not only is my hair not nearly long enough to rock them, but they remind me of fishtails, which remind me of a time in Barcelona that I was served an entire fish for dinner, scales and all. Lucky for me, I was handed some inspiration from the Cherry Blossom Girl, who opted for a neat, thin braid and the sweet embellishment of a feather:

I love how subtle the braid is; it blends in with the rest of her hair and doesn't make a huge statement so much as add a touch of delicacy. Plus, I've been on A Midsummer's Night Dream kick (so much that my first two children will end up being named Peaseblossom and Mustardseed - probability that they will hate me, about one hundred percent) and a sweet feather or bright ribbon would indulge this obsession quite nicely. I'd even like to braid several small strands before pulling my hair back into a messy bun; it seems like it would be such a simple way to handle grown-out bangs. I'm definitely going to take advantage of this, although I may leave out the feather once I start my internships.

[photo cred to The Cherry Blossom Girl]

Scissor Happy

I had hair that reached halfway down my back until one traumatizing Valentine's Day dance, way back in middle school. The boy I had a crush on danced with another girl the entire time, so naturally, I cried buckets in the bathroom until my mom came to pick me up. The next day, instead of getting a trim, I asked the hairdresser for this:
Yeah, my parents had a coronary. I pulled it off pretty well for an eighth grader, although I had to field piles upon piles of hilarious (but still mean, let's face it) comments. My eyes looked bigger. I looked older, maybe pegged for around fifteen years old. The best part: everyone looked at me when I walked into a room. My twenty minute routine turned into a two minute blow-dry, and my head felt so light that I carried it higher.
After a while, though, I was tired of being saluted (Marine reference) and wearing only teeny sparkly clips in my hair (which inevitably fall out), in an effort to "spice things up." How do you spice things up when you have nothing to spice up in the first place? So I moved on to this:
Flapper stage? Lasted a reaaally long time. I fell into a groove of cutting my hair short, letting it grow out, and then cutting it again. So on and so forth. The bob, though, saw the most action and, though it required the largest amount of maintenance for my naturally wavy hair, was probably the most flattering. My eyes still looked big and I looked like a girl: ding ding winner! Until I got sick of all that hair and cut it like this (on the left):
Maybe it was my torrid love affair with Freja Beha Erichsen. I mean, it WAS my torrid love affair with Freja Beha Erichsen. If you're an uncool college student, it only makes sense to idolize a cool fashion model. I wouldn't say I rocked this look.. I more swayed it. I really loved it, though. When I had this haircut, no one ever bought me drinks or asked me to dance. If I had to walk through a particularly unsafe area of Chicago, I would don Nike dunks and a hoodie in an effort to look like a boy. Short hair made me feel invincible and untouchable in a way that throwing my hair into a ponytail never would.

Now, my hair is past my shoulders for the first time since eighth grade, and I won't allow myself to touch my scissors because I know it will result in a monogamous relationship with a hat. My sister loves haircut #1. My mom prefers haircut #2 ("Don't you want to look feminine?"). I love all three of them, and hence have a problem. What do you think?

A Return

I had no idea that anyone read this blog; I try not to pimp it out on my Facebook because I don't want to become patronizing with it. But when I stumbled across it for the first time in months and saw recent comments, I blushed furiously.

Details of the moment: It is Easter, which means that it is April, which means that because I live several feet from one of the Great Lakes, my hair has reached epic Diana Ross proportions.

Ideally, I would've pulled off this cute number:

And oh, I wanted it so badly. I'm a huge sucker for the French "My hair is like this naturally" look. I struggled for about two hours, armed with a single bobby pin and two hair elastics, before realizing that my hair is about four inches too short. After crying for a while, I consoled myself by trying out a ballerina bun a la Charlize Theron, who is not French but managed to saunter her way into a J'Adore Dior commercial.

I'm not French either, and I also dabble in sauntering. Did it work? No. In my defense, did I have less than four minutes since I'd wasted two and a half hours on the other style? Yes. But this is perfect for those windy, humid days in Chicago; my hair won't whip into my face or reach a two-foot wingspan.

Happily, this correlates to the next post: hunting for a tutu. Why? I don't know yet, but I promise I'll find a reason.