Showing posts with label 90s. Show all posts
Showing posts with label 90s. Show all posts

Wednesday, January 13, 2016

The Best Things To Wear With Your Hard Rock Cafe T-Shirt

pic via etsy

At the pinnacle of '90s glamour, there was one clothing staple -- the Hard Rock Cafe t-shirt. Whether you selected the classy combo of white, flat gold, and chocolate brown colorations, or something a little more avant garde (like above), you had to have one of these mofos.

Once you had chosen your fine treasure, you would then be confronted with the biggest and most important decision in your life -- no, not what to name your future children or your adult career path -- how to wear your fancy HRC tee. Here is your style guide.


Because who doesn't love to hear their thighs swish about, singing the songs of the south(ern parts of your body)?

Knee-Length, Cuffed Bongo Shorts

pic via ebay

 To simultaneously highlight and smoosh your kneecaps.

A T-Shirt Ring

Bonus points for tortoiseshell, because it's classy as eff.

A Blossom Hat

When crushed velvet and gigantic faux foliage collide, the world wins.

A 29' Woven Leather Belt

It can never be long enough.

Slouch Socks

Warning: there are a lot of fetish pictures of slouch socks, so don't google that shit.

Keds with Those Curly Shoestrings


A Shitload of Tendrils

The thinner the tendril, the closer to Satan.

Or a Rat Tail

Actual Satan?

With a Crystal Pepsi in Your Hand

Because this tasted like cream soda made a baby with cola flavors, and everyone wants to sip on that.

The Sounds of "Cantaloop (Flip Fantasia)" in Your Ear Holes

I still have this CD single. It was the best dollar I ever spent.

Along With These in Your Ear Holes

These are timeless earring MVPs.

This concludes the most useless thing you'll read today. Or in your extended-by-cutting-edge-technology-well-into-your-100s lifetime. Bye.

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Monday, December 21, 2015


In the best thing you've ever heard in your life news (no, Koala Yummies aren't coming back), Vulture has just reported that the possible/questionable/it's-just-a-vibe-I-get douche James Franco will be remaking everyone on the planet's favorite movie, Mother, May I Sleep With Danger. Merry Christmas, Happy (belated) Hanukkah, and Happy (early) Kwanzaa.


This person.

You know, this human being.

The person that's always keeping it 100 on the streets. Totally real. (Tor-tally Real?™)

Just stays keeping it all the way real.

Speaking of real talk, I have this shirt. Bye forever. Or until MMISWD reboot is presented to my eyeballs.

Be honest -- is today the most exciting day of your life? If you say no, I don't even know you.

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Wednesday, September 16, 2015

7 Times Tonya Harding Was Your Unconventional Beauty Muse

Whoever created this photo deserves at least one of Nancy Kerrigan's medals. (Too soon?)

Here's a true fact for your ass: I'm a low-key stan for Tonya Harding. Her story is just so crazy over-the-top that you can't help but semi-fall in love with her. She has some kind of Amy Fisher/Pamela Smart xtra-lite appeal to her that I can't explain with actual words that make sense. But just know that she lives in my heart.

(P.S. If you haven't watched it, go watch that ESPN doc on the whole Harding/Kerrigan deal. It's amazing. You know it has to be if I just recommended something from ESPN.)

My favorite thing about T Hard is her whole vibe and style. This is a woman with beauty MOMENTS. Here are my favorite times.

When She Had Those Bangs.

If you never had bangs that looked like fledgling sparrows were nesting in them, your ass didn't have BANGS. Pair them with white eyeshadow and you've got yourself a solid, solid look.

And That Scrunchie.

Tonya was like the kaweeen of scrunchies. Her (imagined) hair routine was like: blow dry with one of those tiny Conair dryers that get up to 989852093845 degrees while brushing through your perm, do bangs, slick back into tight ponytail with a handful of LA Looks gel, tie hair back with a giant (preferably velvet) scrunchie, and call that shit a day. Flawless.

And Also That Scrunchie. (With an Assist From That Blush.)

I told you -- queen of scrunchies.


Signs that you aren't effing around with your French braid: it starts at your eyebrows.

And This One Eyebrow.

Speaking of brows, this is a natural one. Hey dude, it's been a minute since I've seen one of you.

And This Eyeliner.

The Hard learned she was a "Spring" skin tone and went to MF-ing town with that blue eyeliner. Went to all the towns. She was so pleased, that she let Nancy borrow one of the royal scrunchies.


I dare you to find one single thing that isn't perfect about this. I DARE YOU. This should hang in the Louvre.

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Thursday, July 16, 2015

Lazy Blogging: Read Something I've Already Written (90210 Edition)

As evidenced by my Brenda Walsh t-shirt in this picture (and my 9485398525943 previous mentions), I am a big fan of Beverly Hills, 90210. So, when I got the chance to write a 90210-themed beauty slideshow for Allure, I was like:

If you are firmly on Team Brenda, like it's a '92/'07 hybrid year, you can go check out "The Best Throwback Looks from Beverly Hills, 90210" here. If you're Team Kelly, my condolences. Please don't get shot with a stray gang bullet and get amnesia.

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Wednesday, July 8, 2015

I Made Every Single Late '90s/Early '00s Beauty Mistake, Let Us Never Forget These Lessons

What a time to be alive, what a time to be alive. I'm going to keep it real on these blog streets -- coming of age in the '90s and '00s was a hideous experience. I'm not trying to diminish other time periods to get your first period, but these decades were trash. Maybe not even worthy of being called trash. Like, trash juice.

There were so many horrendous beauty things considered acceptable, and even desirable, during this time, that it's almost hard to remember them all. Thankfully for my brain (but not for my pride or my eyeballs), I have photographic evidence of all of these tragic missteps. Let's journey back in time to relive all of the magic bad shit, with the top five things I learned from my late '90s/early '00s beauty mistakes.

Lesson #1: There is such a thing as too blonde.

While living in the era of Pam-Anderson-is-QWEEN, it was hard to grasp the idea that hair can be TOO blonde. That's like saying Baywatch running is TOO slow-motion. Or Tommy Lee steers a boat with his ween TOO well. That can't exist.

But when you're dyeing your hair every two weeks with platinum box dye from Walgreens until it's the color and texture of cotton-flavored cotton candy, it's time to re-evaluate your hair color choices. Life is not a Christina Aguilera "Dirrty" video. I didn't learn this lesson for roughly eight years, but it's still a lesson to be learned.

Lesson #2: There is also such a thing as too big and dangle-y of a belly button ring.

I really tried in earnest to find a picture featuring one of my most giant belly button rings, but I guess that disposable Kodak camera got lost in life's shuffle. Small gifts. We'll just have to use this pretty run-of-the-mill dangler as evidence.

Early ought belly rings were at least the size of a strip of bacon, and sold at a minimum of 27 malls kiosks per every shopping mall in America. This was before you were bombarded with flat iron kiosk employees. This was even before flat irons. Just use your imagination, youngsters.

The variety in the rings was dazzling, literally. Every belly ring was bling-ier and more grandiose than the next. Do you want an actual bedazzled license plate of your home state to be tethered to your abdomen? You got it, dude!

How nubile belly button skin was not ripped apart by these monstrosities on a daily basis has to be at least the 31st wonder of the world. Please don't repeat this trend, youths.

Lesson #3: Wearing a Playboy bunny head sticker in a tanning bed should be avoided at all costs.

Okay, so you can't actually see the Playboy bunny-shaped area of untanned skin on my hip, because my hooded, sleeveless top from Wet Seal is thankfully covering it, BUT IT'S THERE, LURKING.

I recently read that use of tanning beds has dropped dramatically in the past few years, and halleloo for that. Don't eff with that mess. But back in the tanning heyday of '90s/'00s, there was a weird and disturbing phenomenon of people putting stickers on their bodies and tanning to create temporary and usually ridiculously-themed shapes on their sexy parts, like skin Lucky Charms.

Why did humanity take part in such an unnecessary and dangerous activity? I don't know. Maybe I'll donate my brain to science, like a formerly-tanned, tacky, non-serial killer version of John Wayne Gacy.

Lesson #4: Using a drill on natural nails 
probably isn't a great idea.

LORD JESUS, LOOK AT MY NAILS. You would've had to pry the chocolate brown, long-as-hell, square, acrylic nails from my cold, dead fingertips of late '90s me. I loved those bitches almost as much as I loved a festive choker.

Not only did they look atrocious, they were a real dick when it came to my nail health. My nail tech used a nail file attached to an actual drill on my real nails, like we were posted up in aisle three of Home Depot. I am not a medical professional, or really any kind of professional, but that cannot be good for your nails. Why this was so widely practiced and accepted in the nail world at the time remains a mystery bigger than Big Foot's whereabouts.

A big, acrylic thumbs-up to you, too, big guy.

Lesson #5: Eyebrows may never grow back, so be 
conservative with those tweezers.

I look back at pictures of myself from these decades of yore and deeply mourn for my lost eyebrows. Where were they? What had I done to them? Were they crying, and that's why they looked like a teardrop?

I was lucky in that my brow follicles didn't just up and quit my face. I know plenty of people that are completely unable to grow eyebrows now, thanks to tweezer abuse of the '90s and '00s. Kids of today, please know this: eyebrow styles come and go. Leave your GD brow hairs alone for the most part.

Bonus Lesson: Diamonds are forever. So are tramp stamps.

I'm not at all against tattoos. I think they are beautiful. But I happen to hate everything on earth after (at most) two years, so tattoos are a terrible idea for me. Especially when the only one that I have is a circa-'99 butterfly, forever hovering over my aging ass crack. It's like a constant butt billboard that screams, "Life: Proceed with caution because this too shall pass."

Please share your horrendous '90s and '00s beauty mistakes with me, so I don't feel so, so alone.

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Wednesday, December 17, 2014

Tomorrow Is The Final Episode of Serial, SO WHAT WILL HAPPEN, SARAH???

Warning: Some whispery f-words in video.

This is kind of friggin' perfect.

For all of my fellow Serial crazies, tomorrow shall mark the end of the Mail Kimp end. Will anyone ever think of payphones ever, ever again? Will Adnan's big cow eyes ever be free to make BBQ sauce without having to use maple syrup? Did Jay get a good nap in? Why doesn't Mr. S like brandy? What even is brandy? If this is just a big-ass Best Buy commercial, I'm going to be PISSED.

via funny or die

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Tuesday, December 16, 2014

Who Would You Rather: The 90210 Dudes Edition

I'm kind of a Beverly Hills, 90210 nut, as evidenced by this picture of me wearing a Brenda Walsh mugshot t-shirt that my friend Sarah bought me. Because of my particular brand of crazy brains, I've spent an inordinate amount of time thinking about the dudes of BH High. That sounds illegal, but everyone on that show was, like, 42 during the show's run, so stop judging my ass.

All of this pondering led me to compile a list of pros and cons for each 90210-type-of-bro, so we can find out, once and for all, who would you rather?

David Silver

BAG sporting a unibrow starter's kit

  • Many awkward hair phases.
  • David and Donna were so gross, as told by this video, which is one of the more horrific things even burned into my eyeballs and ear holes.

    BRB, vomiting and bleaching the Earth.

    Bottom Line: Whatever, I can't even keep up this front. DAVEY WAS THE WORST.

    Brandon Walsh

    B Dubs, the stern years.

    • He did charitable shit like bring homeless men home for Thanksgiving dinner and had relationships with Kelly Taylor.
    • He was well-beloved by crazies (Emily Valentine) and bores (Andrea Zuckerman) alike.
    • He had the privilege of sharing a womb with Brenda.
    • He had the second-best dude hair on the show. (Except for that short-lived mullet. Hard pass.)
    • Just..This...

      • He did horrible shit like have relationships with Kelly Taylor.
      • He got kind of judgey over walking Earth treasures Brenda Walsh and Valerie Malone. 
      • These sunglasses fill me with a deep and fiery rage. There's something so Wilford Brimley about them that make me want to throw hot oatmeal.

      Bottom Line: I like Brandon. But do I LIKE like Brandon? Like, loins-like him?

      Dylan McKay

      Okay, so this was IRL Luke Perry, BUT I DON'T CARE.

      • Please see above.
      • That voice.
      • He had the best hair that's ever even graced a friggin' TV screen.
      • He had rough times, but had a heart of GD GOLD.
      • He almost pulled this look off. And that's a lot of look.


      • That tramp-ass-tramp Kelly Taylor.
      • He doesn't love me.

      Bottom Line: Everyone loves Dylan McKay. If you don't, you aren't a living human being. Shit, even ghosts haunting old Victorian-era mansions probably love that mofo.

      Steve Sanders

      Steve loves coochie cutters, and he cannot lie.

      • Steve kind of gave zero effs about ANYTHING.
      • He had a weirdly sexual confidence about him.
      • Semi-unrelated, but, uhhhh....
      • Ian Ziering did this in my life, so major bonus points:


      Bottom Line: Current-day Ian Ziering? Hot. Steve Sanders? Not.

      Conclusion: Please, this was all a flimsy, farce-filled, flim-flam facade! And you fell for it. MUAHAHAHHA. DYLAN MCKAY 4EVA.

      How much do you still love Dylan McKay, one to eight trillion?

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      Tuesday, November 11, 2014

      Oh, Hell Naw News Of The Day: Ariana Grande Is Remaking "The Boy Is Mine"

      A photo posted by Ariana Grande (@arianagrande) on

      This is the face of a person that thinks that they are above the Brandy/Monica laws of nature. I think not, ponytail! Ariana Grande and Jessie J ARE REMAKING "THE BOY IS MINE" AND EVERYTHING IS NOT OKAY.

      Ariana Grande is one of those people that seems to be just a general annoyance to me. I don't know what it is, I really have nothing to base these feelings upon, it's just a thing. Like an orange. It's just something that exists.

      But this has crossed the MF-ing line into something that is personal to me. "The Boy Is Mine" is one of my songs. It came out in 1998, which was my junior year of high school. (Save the comments for your mom-ments, I don't want to hear about my elderly nature.) My friend Jodell and I learned all of the lyrics, and would play each part (I think I was Monica) and sing our faces off, long-ass acrylic nails waving in the air while we drove around in her teal Eagle something-or-other. (RIP Eagle something-or-others.) Here's a visual, so you can imagine me during that era:

      Try not to jump off the nearest bridge in a fit of jealousy. You can clearly see why I don't want this time in my life tarnished by the likes of an Ariana Grande and her clip-on ponytail. Has Ariana Grande ever worn a Contempo Casuals sheer button-up top while driving around in her Honda Civic that she worked overtime hours for so she could get the gold accessories package? I think not. Homie didn't even live in a time before flat irons. I mean, look at my hair in that picture. Those are hardships.

      I DO NOT co-sign this tom foolery. Leave the OGs to their OG-ing, Grande.

      via vulture/my friend Kelly with the tip-off

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      Thursday, July 31, 2014

      Rihanna Wears A Sexed-Up Version Of Our Favorite 90s Outfit

      Linda Perry shows homies "What's Up?" by wearing boxers shorts in the 4 Non Blondes video

      I can quite vividly remember the hot ass mess fashions of the early 90s. Almost in a traumatizing flashback-y (flashwhacky?) kind of way. So when I peeped this picture of Rihanna wearing dudes' boxers as shorts on Huffington Post, my heart died a little, in a way I wasn't sure if it would go on. (Hurry, someone get me the Heart of the Ocean and see if it's true or not.)

      WE CAN'T START WEARING BOXER SHORTS SHORTS AGAIN, MAN. I just can't go back there. I have really accepted a plethora of 90s garb...again. But the cost of this trend is (emotionally) too damn high. I won't go back to 1993, with me begging my mom to buy me packs of boys' plaid flannel boxers to wear with my Equate-brand soccer sandals and tube socks. IT'S TOO MUCH.

      Don't let this happen, humans. I'm too old for this shit.

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