Post Less, Live More?
Hay hay sexay,
In case you haven’t noticed, my Fauxionista posts are increasingly less frequent. My lack of stylish (not-so) humble bragging is due to my amazing life getting more amazing with amazing work and amazing stuff. I AM STILL VERY WELL DRESSED, I just can’t promise weekly insight into my insanely good looking life. Most likely I’ll be posting monthly or whenever I feel it cause YOLO or whatever.
I’m in LA for the month which is lovely. Here’s me waiting for my friend outside her apartment, we were going to walk to the medical marijuana store so she could get me some treats. I was going to take more photos but like I said, I went to the medical marijuana store for treats aka I did nothing the rest of the night except eat vegan gluten-free pumpkin pie and write some really prolific spiritual thoughts in my journal. I don’t want to jump the gun here but I’m pretty sure I’ve got life totally figured out.
Shirt: vintage $5 from L Train Vintage in Brooklyn
Shorts: Levi’s $10
Booties: I wear them all the time, enough already.
Hat: Got this off a mobile shop (not like cell phone mobile, it’s a store on a van) in downtown LA $30
Between the pot, the laid back LA vibe, and my sweet “was she in the movie Almost Famous?” outfit, hippy Giulia was in full effect. Just because I rock leopard and gold like a mutha-fuggin’ righteous east coast babe, it doesn’t mean I can’t jam out 1998-style to Phish, I CAN AND I WILL. I went to Ithaca College, I used to make hemp necklaces, I owned a hacky sack. Not that hippy Giulia doesn’t exist in NYC, oh she does. She chants loudly in kundalini yoga, she mostly eats organic, she can see past the grime and garbage and still cry about how damn pretty the skyline looks at sunset. It’s just between my fear of wearing sandals in Manhattan (city puddles are riddled with feces and broken dreams) and my fear of forever living in an apartment the size of a handicap bathroom stall, it can be slightly harder to feel all chill in the city. Sigh, in an ideal world Brooklyn would be 10 miles from Malibu. So when folks ask "do you like NYC or LA better?" I say "I like wherever I’m at in the moment.”
Damn, dats some real hippy shit gurl. Wow, I really am the coolest.
Speaking of cool, follow me on Instagram grozzi Even if I don’t post weekly here I will for sure post a bunch there.
There’s Faux Place Like Home 3: Bodysuits Are My Bestie
It’s gotten to the point where 50% of my wardrobe is vintage Lea Rozzi and I love it. Not only are her clothes gorgeous, in great condition, and fit my body like they were tailored made (I guess technically my mom tailored made me) but wearing her stuff makes me feel closer to her (as if that’s even possible, we talk every day and I love her beyond words). When I wear something of my mom’s I carry myself with a little more pride, as if I am carrying on her stylish legacy one polyester piece at a time. This week it’s all about the bodysuit.
Bodysuit & belt: mom’s vintage
Aaah if only I had white high waisted pants and a floppy crocheted hat to top off my version of her outfit (also currently in NYC it’s less white pants and more snow pants weather). Man, is she a cutie. That’s her on her honeymoon to Bermuda and everything in her honeymoon album was chic and unique. This bodysuit is not anything like your average American Apparel number (which I also love and will get to in one second, like CHILL ok?) It’s got this weird texture like a bed cover for a baby’s crib, puffy colorful pastel oval dots and convenient snaps at the crotch for bathroom events. (Bathroom events, sounds like my butt is giving a concert).
I think bodysuits are one of the most flattering comfortable things to wear. They suck everything in and highlight everything you want to stick out (yes I’m talking boobies). And they are the perfect walk of shame outfit to pick up if you don’t have time to go home and shower (gross, but also I clearly have experienced this if I am writing about it and judging it, or rather judging me, or rather who fucking cares). Bodysuit’s are a new top plus clean underwear for the price of one! Now you can bang someone, grab a bodysuit in the morning and off you go- so fresh n’ so clean n’ hopefully not pregnant! Hooray!
I own lots of bodysuits. Don’t believe me? WTF, fine here is a photo weirdo.
Not only are they comfy, flattering (especially the ones with low cut backs, I’M BRINGING SEXY BACK, get it? High-five!) and great for tramps but they also make me feel like a dancer. As a kid who quit everything. Literally I tried every activity and sport and class and quit the second it got hard I was out. And my overprotective yet stylish awesome I’m-not-blaming-her-but-therapy-has-shown-me-where-all-my-flaws-come-from mom enabled my quitter behavior since the second I’d wail "I can’t do a cartwheel in gymnastics! I don’t wanna go back" she’d do anything to make her baby (emphasis on the word baby) stop crying including letting me stay home from practice so I could eat Celeste microwave pizza and watch General Hospital.
So I never even showed up to dance class as a kid which is a shame since I am an awesome dancer. I can’t really follow steps or whatever but give me a little weed and lot of bass and I am a magical fairy on the dance floor. So wearing bodysuits makes me feel like the pro dancer I should have/ would have/ could have been.
Speaking of dancers, this is everything:
Not only is that clip (and sweet Vine loop I made) the best dancer/confrontation scene ever in the history of sitcoms, but Three’s Company gals knew how to rock bodysuits and not just in ballet class.
Added bonus: bodysuits also make you feel like a baby in a onesie, a sexy baby in a sexy onesie.
However bodysuits are not perfect, they have their flaws which is mostly sweat. Oooooooh gurl the pit stains these mutha fuggin’ tight things create are epic. Also after a while the crotch starts to sag. Also, they can be a bitch to maneuver when you’re drunk and in a bar bathroom. But the pros (looking hot, feeling like Janet Woods, not having to worry about underwear) out way the bad.
One warning though, be careful where you wear your bodysuits! I don’t wear a bra with my American Apparel ones because of the backless style and because they are so tight and my boobs are so perky the stretchy fabric naturally lifts up my knockers. Day-to-day, at a bar, etc that’s cool but on stage let’s say at Cap City Comedy club in November wearing a black and white striped bodysuit under bright lights that make your top sheer and flash your nipples and aerolas to the entire audience is a no-no. Yes, I learned the hard way. Good thing I had a good set and have a good set. Your welcome Texas!
(ps. Mindy Tucker took that pic of me on the right, she’s the best)
I spent last week in Austin, one of the best cities on the planet: I ate lots of BBQ pork, smoked lots of weed, and had loads of fun performing at Cap City every night. And of course, I went shopping. Lucky for me my super stylish and bargain shopping expert Melissa Masello aka “stealfinder” just moved to Austin so she took me to all the coolest and cheapest shopping spots then styled this jazzy and budget friendly lil’ numba (Melissa is a fellow Boston native so we are allowed to friggin’ talk like that.)
Top: American Apparel (got it at the outlet $20)
Skirt: Vintage from Goodwill ($6)
Bag: Leather Roberto Cavalli tote from Goodwill ($10)
Shoes: My same ol’ same ol’ Ecote booties that are falling apart
Sunglasses: Betsey Johnson (a splurge for me at $80)
My shopping goal in Austin was to get cowboy boots, but this pair that I wanted cost over $1,500. I wanna start a Kickstarter campaign to get these boots, get it? Cause you kick with boots? Right? (Send me money).
Melissa also had her eyes set on an equally pricey set of booties. Here she is snuggling with them.
Awww they look so cute together!
The high price tags took us to take a drive to the Goodwill where I kept finding dresses I already owned, apparently my taste is “donation bin friendly.” It was there that this skirt came to be mine. It was actually part of a dress suit with a matching heavily shoulder-padded jacket but I had to pass on the jacket due to it’s intense sweat stains, and just snagged the better and less sweaty half of the set, this skirt.
I kept my shades on for these pics not just because my Betsey frames are dope but because I have such terrible circles under my eyes (aka Rozzbags) from lack of sleep and water combined with too much pot and desert (and also dessert, they have some excellent all natural vegan bakeries in Austin).
I wanted to rock a fully purchased in Austin outfit for this post but this American Apparel lace top just went so nicely with the skirt as per Melissa’s magnificent direction. I got it a few weeks ago at the American Apparel warehouse in Soho. The only downside is that it gets really smelly from sweat, like really really polyester smelly. You’d think that because of all the lace holes it would air out your BO but nope, it still makes me stink like my dad on the dance floor of my wedding (my dad didn’t wear deodorant to my wedding. We were in the middle of the twist when I got a whiff and assumed it had to be a waiter because my dad wouldn’t not wear deodorant to my wed…oh wait yea it’s my dad. I was so embarrassed by my dad, but then I got divorced 13 months and my dad was so embarrassed by me, guess we’re even. Yay! )
Here’s a closer pic of the top and skirt’s lovely details and a closer pic of my lovely breasts that live under all that stinky lace. Also that’s my Catherine Weiztman tiger necklace that i’ve mentioned on this blog at least 20 times. I don’t change up my jewelry too much other than adding a little more gold or removing a little gold.
The skirt has a very forgiving elastic waist which was great considering my previously mentioned pork intake. I imagine the woman who first owned this skirt (suit) was very Claire Huxtable. It’s always interesting to think about who owned your thrifted items before you. Hopefully no one died in this skirt, the last thing I need is a haunted skirt in my life. We all remember the haunted cargo pants incident of 97 right? Exactly.
It was really windy when we were taking photos in front of Melissa and her hubby’s adorable house hence this glamour hair pose pic. Am I sexy and sexual and sexy sexual or what? Fun fact: my butt is extremely itchy in this photo. I’ve had a dryness issue going on lately and when I went to see a doctor about it he accused me of being a hypochondriac. Who the fuck makes up a butt itch? I responded verbatim “don’t you think if I were a hypochondriac I’d say my stomach or head hurt not my butt? What do you think this was a ploy to get doctors all over New York City to look at my ass?” The doctor did not have a reply, what an asshole, both him and my asshole. The only thing that soothes the itch is olive oil soooo I put olive oil on my bum hole. The good news is if I hook up with a guy and he wants to do butt stuff it’ll smell and taste like salad. A little “tossed salad” if you will. (I am so grateful my parents do not know how to use the Internet).
Also at Goodwill we found these awesome leather cowboy boots for $20! They fit Melissa’s petite foot and not my wide dogs. However that didn’t stop me from desperately trying to shove my size 8’s into these size 6’s. It was like when they used to bind little girl’s feet in China, like exactly the same thing.
There’s my new tote, it’s in a cactus in case you couldn’t tell. It’s as if the cactus is hugging my bag which was nice to see since cactus can usually be a real prick. ZING! BOOM! I JUST WON AT COMEDY AND AT LIFE IN GENERAL!
And now here’s me and my new outfit with the cactus, hooray! Thanks for an awesome week Austin, I can’t wait to come back!
Hay hay, sorry I didn’t post last week! It was my birthday and I spent 7 days eating, drinking, indulging and being ultra super all sorts of kind to my older yet wiser self. One of the best gifts you can give yourself is kindness (plus lots of vodka, sloppy make-outs, and a new tattoo).
It was a really special birthday, not only was I born which is like the best thing ever, but also I was strongly reminded of how much love I have in my life. Someone (who I wasn’t getting along with at the time) once said to me in a strange insulting way "well I’m not as lucky as you and have all these great friends" as if I magically found amazing friends on Ebay (which I wouldn’t be surprised if friends were for sale on Ebay). I responded "I’m not lucky, I worked hard to attract good people and to maintain these relationships. I give a lot of love and so I receive a lot of love" (Great bragging Rozzi, now when the fuck are we gonna talk about fashion?! Hold on! This is all related, I swear). What I’m trying to say is, I am an awesome human being AND I know a lot of awesome human beings (including you dear reader of this blog, unless you’re that rando weirdo on Facebook who made me a home video for my birthday of himself in his apartment reading my bio to me). So be a genuine human, love yourself, and you will attract genuine loving people into your world. Go get ‘em!
Oh but wait, before you go - let’s talk more about me!
Sweater: Vintage from The Lost & Found Variety Store
Jacket: Pins & Needles from Urban Outfitters
Necklace: Birthday gift from adorable comedian Christi Chiello
Fuzzy photo/angry face/cool bathroom bro: ME.
In keeping with the spirit of loving friends and good folks, this week’s outfit is all about credit where credit is due. Not only do I have dope pals but I have lots of pals who make, sell, create, cool things.
This cozy cute wool hat that I am wearing like Dumb Donald from Fat Albert (is the Fat Albert theme song in your head now? Great! Now start singing it all jazzy n’ shit like you’re Alicia Keys. Fun right?) is the creation of Gianna Simone aka LAmeUP on Etsy. She is an actress friend of my sister’s who also makes these great affordable custom hats. I got mine in a week, girl can knit fast! Order yours here. (And yes I know in my last post I wore a hat covering my eyes as well, it’s my new thing and/or I was sick of looking into my iPhone screen while trying to take natural looking selfies)
The necklace was given to me by the fantastic Christi Chiello who I just met her back in August at a great show called Back Fat Variety (check it out). As I watched her dazzle the crowd with her irresistible charm and fucked up point of view I instantly knew I needed to make her my friend, and boom! she’s at my birthday party with a “Trust No Bitch” faux gold necklace in hand. I love my gold and I love the word bitch, so this was a friendship match made in gold bitch heaven.
The sweater was a sweet find at The Lost & Found Variety vintage booth at Brooklyn Flea in Williamsburg. One of the owners Steff and I met at a mutual friend’s wedding in September where out of the blue she said “I have a leopard print pantsuit I think you’d love.” Uh YEA I WOULD! It was like she a style psychic, a Long Island Medium but for animal print. She saved the pantsuit for me to come check out the next Brooklyn Flea, sadly it was way too big but alas this star print sweater (one of my top five favorite prints after cheetah/tiger/leopard) found it’s way into my arms and heart. It’s batwingy and bad ass.
Here’s a better pic of the sweater, well better because you can see more of it but worse because my mirror is filthy. The jeans are Levis that I got for $10, the butt is falling apart but I refuse to let them go. Same with the booties, the insides are torn up but they are so comfortable and versatile that I will wear them till they disintegrate off my feet.
Topping off the outfit is a mischievous ”I just ate peanut butter with my fingers” smile and a fake leather jacket aka NOT A VEGAN JACKET. Look, I understanding marketing but enough with stores and brands advertising faux leather as vegan as a way to up the price (vegan leather is ethical and thus pricey!) “Vegan leather” is just a fancy word for pleather and I will proudly wear good quality pleather while eating a burger (organic grass-fed free range of course). This piece of garbage jacket is from Urban Oufitters, I love the cut aI hate that I keep finding pieces of pleather in my hair (it’s shedding cuz it’s cheap yo). One again, until it disintegrates I will wear it and wear it well.
Oh I mentioned I got a new tattoo right? (Yea you did Rozzi, why ar you asking when you can just scroll up and confirm what you already know? Jeez) Well here she is.
It was done by the wonderfully talented Karen Rockower Glass at Eight Of Swords in Williamsburg Brooklyn. Karen is an old friend from college who just so happen to have a sketch of rose she wanted to tattoo on a good friend and I just so happen to want a rose with snow on it on my forearm. I had been fantasizing about this tattoo for years and Karen executed my vision perfectly. Check out Karen’s other work and book an appointment with her here. The rose in the snow is inspired by St. Rita, the saint of impossible miracles and the saint that my gorgeous grandmother Nonna Civita would always tell me to turn to when I doubted myself. Nonna Civita was one of the first people to show me what unconditional love was, she accepted me and believed in me and for that I am forever grateful and inspired.
Oh man shout-out city just made a pit stop into sentimental city! TEARS! Let’s make a U-turn.
Last but not least, style soundtrack!
I tend to get obsessed with a new song and over play it till I go mad. This month that song is Picky Bitch Checklist (I told you I love the word bitch) by my new Twitter BFF Jungle Pussy. The hilarious and darling Mehran Khaghani posted a link about Jungle Pussy on Facebook, I clicked, I listened I fell in love. I immediately took to Twitter to express my love and request she send me the track (I couldn’t figure out how to download it) and the woman replied and now we are friends for life. Listen to her fierceness here.
Alright bitches, now that I have armed you with links galore go on n’ git yourselves familiar with these fantastic shops/folks and get familiar with your heart so that you can be spoiled rotten with friends, love and light. Awwwwwwwwwww (stay tuned for info about my seminar “how to be perfect and loved and almost like Giulia but never exactly like Giulia” coming this spring).
I love how the universe works. Last week I post about my love of hats, that Friday my gorgeous friend Vanessa Liberati (who runs Gitana Rosa Gallery in Williamsburg Brooklyn) gives me an original one-of-a-kind hat designed by Chicago based artist Lewis Taylor aka Yams.
I am kind of obsessed with it.
I’m also kind of obsessed with a magical woman I met at the gallery who does life coaching focusing on female sexuality and told me I have a lot of male energy. I grabbed my balls and asked "whaddya mean bro?"
Truth-be-told I have been called a man on Youtube, but that was only when I didn’t properly shave my face before a taping a show. I guess I do tend to be a bit aggressive in relationships. But hey, I wear dresses and stuff so hopefully it all balances out.
Anyways back to YAMS ONE. Cool hat, right? I can’t hear your answer but I assume you said yes. Isn’t art cool and stuff? You should go buy some wearable art at etsy.com RIGHT NOW!
Man, this is the laziest post ever. Really it was just a way for me to show off my new hat and stay in line with my goal to post here every week. I would have written a more thoughtful post but I smoked pot almost every day this week (COOL PERSON ALERT) because apparently I’m 20 again. The good news is, while stoned I sewed a dress and wrote a screenplay outline and watched three episodes of The Golden Girls. Granted I sewed the dress crooked and I can’t understand what “luau bears run” mean in my movie notes, but hey I enjoyed The Golden Girls. Oh and I also some dope revelations about life and creativity and love and death. I basically like figured everything out. Oh and when Vanessa gave me this hat I was stoned so maybe being stoned is good luck or whatever. And now I have my new trusty cap to hide my red eyes.
Alright, great chat guys! Byeeeeeee
Let’s Talk About Hats Baby, Let’s Talk About You & Me (mostly me)
Maybe you already knew this but, I have always looked awesome in hats. Oh what, words I just wrote about myself on the Internet aren’t evidence enough? Well how’s this for proof?
SEE!? My hat skillz have been around since I learned how to walk. ( I also look really good walking). Now even if you’re thinking “but Giulia, there is no way I can look as good as you in a hat!!!” I’m here to say, you’re right, there is no way you will look AS good as me in a hat but you can still look good in a hat and I’m gonna teach you how to wear it. I mean sure, we all know HOW to wear a hat like logically (put hat on head and go but I’m gonna teach you how to wear dat hat yo. You feel me? Weird! How can you feel me through a computer. Yikes! Stop rubbing my leg! It’s all about attitude. Each hat says something different so you have to make sure your hat and your attitude are saying the same thing. Alright haticapped folks, let’s proceed:
People seem to either love or hate Fedora’s. I like a fedora paired with a casual outfit, it can give your look a little umph. Key words “a little umph” don’t try to over up the umph with a stupid face. That’s the problem with fedora’s, they sometimes turn people (guys on Tinder and girls on Instagram) into assholes who pose like this:
Stop! If you’re gonna sporta a fedora like Dora the Explora (she doesn’t wear a fedora but I wish she would so that rhyme would make sense) just wear it without the wiggity wiggity wack posing. Just trust your fedora looks cute with out the “cool” poses, I mean how adorable a fedora made this fella look and he’s got no skin on his face!
2) Big Brim Hats
This is more so for the ladies (although it may also apply to beekeepers and certain dudes at Burning Man). I love me a big brim hat, straw in the summer and cloth in the winter. They are ladylike and fun and help prevent cancer and will make you look exactly like MaryKate & Ashley Olson. The best thing about big hats is that they are excellent for hiding my face when I’m hungover, when I’m crying, or when I’m hungover and crying.
See!? It’s like that break-up never happened!
The only shitty part about big hats is since they are usually made for dainty girly heads and not a monstrous can-we-please-retake-that-group-photo-again-so-I-can-angle-myself-to-not-look-3x-the-size-of-everyone-elses-head like mine (UGH WHY AM SO FLAWED?). When I used to go to pediatrician I’d always get trapped in my shirt because of my wide noggin and Dr. Yessayan would say “big head, big brains” (OH WAIT MAYBE I’M NOT FLAWED AFTERALL).
3) Baseball Caps
Baseball caps will always remind me of seventh grade when my girlfriend’s and I would flirtatiously try steal the cap off of our crushes head and put it one to be all like “look we’re in love.” And then that same crush (Jimmy Petroulas to be exact, that’s his real name, find him and kick him) would ask me to be his girlfriend, French kiss me, then ride up to me on his bike the next day, yell “your dumped!” laugh, then ride away. God were we idiots. Along those same lines, most baseball caps I’ve owned have been a result of me asking my boyfriend “what team should I like?” and then I would eventually own a hat of said team. It’s a great way to connect to a man who’s love you desire. In the case pictured here that man is my dad so I’m wearing the MBTA hat he gave me (he used to work there as an electrician). My dad isn’t really into sports or expressing genuine emotions.
A baseball cap lets the world know you’re laid back, chill, easy going, maybe balding, and of course sporty, duh! Even if you’re terrified of balls hitting your face. THAT’S WHAT SHE SAID! (kill me) A baseball cap can say “look I’m one of the guys!” but ladiesssss, be sure to pair that cap with a boob-friendly tank so you still let ‘em you are most def one of the girls. Actually two of the girls, like two boobs, if you call your boobs the girls. (kill me again) And if you really want to be dope, flip that cap to back and let the world know you are down with hip hop!
I mean if me in a flipped to da back hat with a “yo” finger and a “yo yo ” look on my adorable face doesn’t scream “I’m so dope I listen to MC Hammer’s 2 Legit 2 Quit on repeat!” I don’t know what does.
God, I’m cool.
4) Winter Hats
I fucking love winter hats. Why even wash your hair in the winter when you can just hit under the warmth of knitted bliss? As a gal who suffers from a touch of winter dry scalp (#humblebrag) I especially appreciate a winter hat’s ability to hide my seborrhea shame from folks who still think dandruff has something to do with being dirty. My scalp is just fragile and sensitive like me.
See? So sensitive. If you’d like I can share some of my college poetry with you sometime. Nope? Okay.
Also, some winter hats are also great for getting in touch with your inner animal. Here I am feeling like a cute puppy and/or a not cute Hasidic Man. Woof! Shalom!
5) Alternative Hats
So you say you don’t own any hats eh? And you say you don’t wanna buy any hats, eh? But you say you wanna look amazing like me, eh? You also say Giulia stop saying eh, eh? Well, I can help with all of the above.
Since I recently moved back to the Williamsburg/Greenpoint area (non-New Yorkers, what I’m indicating here is that I am very very hip) I have noticed lots of folks wearing non-hat hats. Some examples: a guy wearing a parakeet on his head, a girl wearing a wire hanger flower thing, a a man wearing a plastic bag on his head (I think that last fella may have been trying to kill himself but yay for art!) Here I am wearing a colander.
I am off-setting the “crazy” by making a sexy duckface. I’m ducking so hard my eyes are about to pop outta their sockets making. Pretty hot, right?
Of course there are way more than five hats to be worn in this wonderful hatastic world of ours: top hats, party hats, witch hats, fireman hats, hats with a picture of a hat on them, berets, bonnets, sailor hats, and so many more. Find your hat, change your life! Or don’t change your life! Just keep reading my blog.
The Nutella Trend
I visited my family last week and not only did I return to New York with my mom’s gorgeous vintage faux fur collared coat, four belts, and six skirts but she also snuck coupons for organic eggs and a jar of Nutella in my bag because she is the best
Here’s the thing about Nutella, IT’S AMAZING. I think we all know that Nutella is one of the greatest creations ever, a creation that I have been known to eat out of the jar like ice cream (sometimes while crying and sometimes while not crying). But, it wasn’t always so. Back in the 80’s when I took a Nutella and waffle sandwich out of my lunchbox (yea, I said waffle. My mom would toast two Aunt Jemima’s waffles, cover them in glorious Nutella, smush them together, then wrap them in foil trapping the heat so that all morning before lunch the Nutella would melt like a mutha fuggin’ smore) kids judged. I had just transferred from private Catholic school to public Wellington elementary school and was trying my best to make new friends and get used to life outside of a plaid skirt (that just sounded like I wasn’t wear bottoms at my new school). All was going well until lunch when one girl at my table goes "ew what are you eating?"
(yea, she used the word “ew” in the same sentence as NUTELLA!)
Cut to adorable me in braids and face covered in chocolate "waffles and Nutella."
White girl* "that’s weird."
Another white girl "is it Italian?"
Me "I don’t know."
Original white girl “well it’s weird. And your name is spelled weird.”
Me “oh.” (joy of chocolate hazelnut spread slowly fades from sweet child’s soul as she defeatedly puts sandwich back in foil and silently sips her can of Coca Cola because her mom also let her drink endless amounts of caffeinated soda at age 8).
Luckily when I got home and told my mom I don’t want to bring Nutella for lunch anymore she explained that those girls were just jealous that I got to eat good food and they were eating boring food. She was right, they were eating boring white people food like peanut butter and jelly on white bread and ham and cheese on white bread and white bread on white bread. Meanwhile my sister experienced her own discrimination when she revealed a Mortadella and marinated mushroom sandwich to her middle school classmates. Again, JEALOUS. After my mom told me what’s what I returned to school the next day proudly eating my diabetes sammie with pride and washed it down with a pack of Starbursts BITCH!
But now, oh now eeeeeeevvvvveeeeerrrryyyyyone just loooooooooooves Nutella, huh? There’s Nutella crepes and Nutella 16 Handles flavors and plethora of Nutella-centric recipes all over Pinterest. Those assholes who stuck their noses up at my Nutella sandwiches are probably now sticking their fingers into jars of knock off Nutella (or worse, knock off Nutella “nut spread” products) while drinking boxes of Franzia wine in the afternoon and watching Iyanla Fix My Life marathons to escape the sadness of their loveless marriages. To those assholes I share this message from me and Nutella.
Don’t forget Nutella, I was with you when you had no one!
(*as a kid, when I would take a standardized test and had to mark a race I didn’t check “caucasian” I would check “other” and write in “Italian.” I was a smart/dumb kid)
There’s Faux Place Like Home 2
I snagged another one of my mom’s dresses (remember this prize?). Isn’t she a babe? I know she was super happy in this pic because she’s showing the space between her two front teeth. She usually tries to hide her teeth with a grin but sometimes joy overpowers ego. I get the same way about smiling in pics sometimes like, I don’t wanna look like I’m soooooooooo excited to be in a photo especially when I’m taking it of myself it’s like "hey Giulia!" "Yea Giulia?" "Smile for the camera Giulia!" "Okay Giulia" (and cut to me in a padded room). But fuck it, I’m not gonna duck face my shit up because I have a fucking personality! Also, I’m happy! And if you announce on the Internet that you’re happy it must be true!
Dress: My mom’s, vintage
Shoes: Wet Seal $10
Ring: The Urban Smith
I love that my mom and I are pretty the exact same size, my boobs are just a little bigger because I’m a child of the 80’s raised on chemically processed garbage like Celeste microwave pizza’s and Doritos dipped in partially hydrogenated oil filled cream cheese. Want some more sugar free gum Giulia? Yummmm I love when it goes from strawberry flavor to cancer flavor.
This dress comes with a cute matching belt which back in college I would never wear belts because as a size 6 I felt fat and thought belts highlighted my stomach rolls and when you’re a overly nice 18 year old that secretly hates herself it’s not surprising to suffer from body duly amorphous only to 10 + years later look back at old college pics and think “man, was I pretty and tiny”. Wish I knew it at the time, perhaps then I wouldn’t have given so many rage filled blowjobs.
Oops there’s soap scum (jizz) on my mirror. Oh yea, BIG NEWS- I own a full length mirror now. 2 weeks ago I was suffering sans a head to toe reflection forced to catch glimpses of myself in store windows. But that has all changed cause I got a mirror bitch! Ok well my roommate has a mirror I have few objects because I’m super zen about being unattached to things. JKJKJK I gave away/sold everything after my divorce and then again most recently after moving out of the apartment I shared with my boyfriend But who needs stuff like a mirror or a life partner to make this big scary world less lonely when you have FASHION?!
Here is the back of the dress. I love showing off a little back especially now that MOST of the fuzz from my younger hairy baby years is gone. I wasn’t even trying to make this shot look so artsy but like when you’re an artist like everything you do becomes like art and stuff.
Topping off my disco look are these sick gold pumps. They are not comfortable but neither is life but yet we all keep wearing life or rather is wears us (POSSIBLE SONG LYRIC ALERT IF I EVER LEARN TO PLAY THE GUITAR. Till then, it’s all yours Jewel or is she still doing those dumb Intuition razor ad “dance” jams?).
Here’s the gel manicure I got 3 weeks ago and it still looks okay. I think gel manicures are made out of the same chemicals in Celeste Pizza (another a serving of cancer coming right up! Yum! Cancer!) And that sweet little ring is my new favorite piece of gold- it says fuck on it which sums everything up, know what I’m fucking saying? Fuck yea.
Have I mentioned how happy I am? Also, can we discuss how great my eyebrows are?
Bom chicka wah wah, more like brow chick wah wah. Actually more like just wah wah wah wah.
Ok gotta jet, I’m writing this post from the Belmont Public Library because my parents don’t have wifi or a computer or an understanding of anything beyond a microwave and I gotta get out of here because the smell of musty books is making me horny and we all know what happened the last time I got horny and the library (I’m looking at you self help section, wink!)
It was fashion week in New York and I OF COURSE was on the scene (well, I was lingering in the VIP welcoming lounge) judging and being judged, it was FABULOUS!
Dress: Free from a clothing swap
Shoes: Dr. Scholls (yes you can wear cute heels and not kill yo’ self)
Belt: Thrifted ($5?)
Purse: Patricia Nash
The temperature shot up to a disgusting 92 on Wednesday and although I am style queen, I will not suffer for fashion (hence my Dr Scholls shoes). I opted for a thin cotton dress I got FOR FREE at a clothing swap last weekend. I think the dress was see through in the back (YOU’RE WELCOME). Meanwhile the “fashionista’s” were all a buzz in expensive and uncomfortable looking duds. Emphasis on the word DUD.
Here is Fashion Week summed up in a few photos and words for ya:
There was a lot of this happening, photographers taking photos of girls who are/might be/want to be models. Just chicks walking around in tiny outfits and people straining their neck to get a shot. Personally I was more in awe of this photographer/lost tourist’s chic suburban gone city style. (What’s that? Did I saunter past the photog’s multiple times confused as to why no one took my photo? Yes I did, yes I fucking did.)
There were a lot of turbans. Okay, real quick STOP. Did ya’ll not read my previous post on 5 Fashion Trends That Are Dumb in which I clearly state that turbans are a fashion trend that is dumb? Of course you read it because everyone who is anyone reads my blog. Me. Mine. ME. Unless it is the traditional garb of your eastern decent or you are in Kundalini yoga class (which I often am because it’s amazing and I am super enlightened and shit) then NO TURBANS. (Cut to a month from now when I’m wearing one because I’m a sucker).
There was a lot of free water! I was thrilled because I Iove free and loved shoving multiple bottles in my bag (I’m always making Mama Rozzi proud). This was perfect because a lot of women at Fashion Week only eat water.
There was Michael Musto DJ-ing! (Fun fact or maybe it’s just a fact, not all facts are fun anyhoo: I cannot say DJ without thinking of DJ Tanner because when I was a child my best friends were a television set, a remote control, and seemingly never-ending supply of Celeste microwave pizza’s).
There were Sweet & Low martini’s because what doesn’t say classy cocktail like cancer? Also there were lots of bloggers on their laptops! Have fun NERD, I’m gonna go steal more water.
There were people in pajamas! Well, person in pajamas. Granted he was in line for the Betsey Johnson show and that is one of the only places where such a get up can pass (I LOVE YOU BETSEY PLEASE GIMMIE A TUTU AND I WILL BLOG ABOUT IT FOR MY 3 READERS). Or maybe he is a Jimmy Fund kid with some rare disease that makes him look like a 32 year old unemployed art student and his dying wish was to go to NYFW? Who knows? I just know my casual sundress outfit got a few “oh that’s boring stares” and meanwhile Peter Pan can rock it out Kid n’ Play pajama jammie jam style and it’s totally a-ok. (Truth is no one was probably talking or looking at me since I spent most of the day in the bathroom peeing out all that free water. DOESN’T ANYONE CARE ANYMORE?!)
There were a lot of interviews going down which seemed to go like this:
"Blah blah blah style blah blah important blah blah innovative…who’s that weirdo who took all the water she doesn’t even have a laptop or turban with her blah blah buttholes"
There were a lot of insanely uncomfortable looking high heels. So dangerously high this woman in the brace clearly broke her back? neck? shoulders? brain wearing them.
And last but not least, der wuz alotta ass. The babes walking around out front and getting their pics taken all had mega amazing booties. And in this pic I’m obviously referring to the booty on the guy in the khaki shorts. Hot damn boy, you go!
$99,000 Car & $4.99 Nuggets
Hello hello! What a summer, I moved twice, I went through a break-up, I stopped using Tom’s All Natural deodorant. So many changes and so little time to share all my amazing outfits. (Bad blogger, bad). So let’s get back to biz with this hot little number, the perfect get-up for one of the last summer days.
Top: Vintage ($5!!!)
Shorts: Urban Outfitters ($5!!!)
Bag: Hayden Harnett
Sunglasses: Betsey Johnson
First let’s call attention to the ovsies, I am indeed in front of McDonalds hence my stupid smirk as I sniff the sweet sick smell that only McD’s can produce. Ahhh it smells like my childhood in which I ate like a beast but thanks to my parents stellar genetics (and the fact that I would vomit all the time when I was car sick or watched a scary movie) I remain a tiny kid despite my large appetite. At least 4 times a week I indulged in McDonald’s or Burger King (Burger King had better burgers, McDonald’s wins for nuggets, but at age 6 I’d take whatever I can get my high cholesterol hands on). As a child I was a picky eater (aka bratty asshole whose Italian parents set no nutritional boundaries and demanded fast food or nothing at all. Thankfully my pediatrician (RIP Dr Yessaian) advised my mom to just let me eat myself out of my junk food phase and then eventually I’d like normal people food (eventually being college). So in addition to eating large cheese pizza’s alone and platter’s of pork fried rice with gravy as a food court snack, I’d eat lots of burgers, fries AND nuggets. Not like on different trips I’d have the Happy Meal and a side of nuggets. And not only did I get all of that but I insisted my hamburger have pickels and ketchup only, NO MUSTARD forcing my dad who just worked all night and day (he is a maniac) to drive thru, order, then have to wait in his car in the lot for a speciality burger (fine, the guy can’t say “I’m proud of you” but he did get his little piggy her food fix). Where was I going with all this? Oh yea, for split second I thought about “tackling” (good God McDonald’s what is wrong with you) the $4.99 nugget deal for ol’ times sake, then I remembered that non-organic chicken is full of cancerous poison that bloats and rots your body, so NO THANKS! Back to my outfit…
I love love love this top. The colors are so bright and pretty and go great with my tan (yes I care about not getting nugget cancer but have no fear of skin cancer). I am big believer in balancing out your exposure in the sense that I chose this flowy top because I had on short shorts. I would not do short shorts with a tight crop top, unless I was working as a video ho (anyone hiring? LOLOLOLOLOLOLOL kill me) Do the shorts give a touch of camel toe? Perhaps, but if an uncomfortable crotch wedgie is the price I must pay to show off my sticks then sign me up. (Did I mention I’m recently single?)
The jewels are my usually Giulia nameplate and Catherine Weitzman tiger necklace plus the addition of new Catherine Weitzman piece, the branch necklace. I love her designs so much.
I wear these booties so much I’m surprised they haven’t fallen apart. They are so comfy and go with just about everything- dresses, skirts, shorts, jeans, my inflatable sumo wrestler costume.
Ah my sweet sweet Hayden Harnett bag. My pal Brandy Barber turned me on to this local designer of quality leather goods. I love the gold hardware and it’s large city size. And I love that I got it for $225 half off during their end of season sale. More so I love that it’s one of the first bigger purchases (cut to home-owning grown-ups pointing and laughing at me) I’ve made NOT on a credit card. Cash money bitches, I’m almost an adult!
My Betsey Shades are one of my favorite things I own. They are big but not buggy and they are dark enough to hide my eyes so no one can see me crying at Starbucks.
Now here is where things got fun. During my professional modeling shoot (aka me saying to a friend “can you please just fucking take a few pics of me for my blog?" and friend saying "you’re so annoying, no one cares about your life bitch!”) we saw 2 cops laughing while a Porsche was being towed. Apparently some douche spent so much money on his car he didn’t have any money left to pay all his parking tickets. Of course we ran over to capture the irony.
Hahahahahahaha I’m wearing a $10 outfit and you’re getting towed HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA (who wins here? I have no idea.) Then my pal and I screamed at the cops "how tiny do you think this guy who owns this car’s penis is?" then we all laughed, then I called and asked my parents if could borrow money again. AMERICA!
(ps. anyone know if Porsche guy is single? I’d like someone to get me another handbag).
See you next week!
The $52 Outfit
Helloooooooo! Deepest apologies for the lack of consistency in posting lately, life stuff came up like work, moving, a Youtube video of a puppy hugging a bunny, REAL LIFE SHIZ. I assume ya’ll have been naked with fear uncertain how to dress yourselves sans my perfect always correct amazing fashion advice. Well go put on some pants and let’s get back to talking about how great I look!
This is my $52 outfit which I am extremely proud of because in case it wasn’t clear a $45 outfit means the whole thing cost $45. How? Because I am an amazing shopper.
Tank: Urban Outfitters $5
Vest: Macy’s $5
Pants: Urban Outfitters $5
Shoes: Aerosoles $30
Purse: Joyrich LA for Le Sport Sac $7
Underwear: HOW DARE YOU ASK ME SUCH A QUESTION?! (insert slap across your face here)
I wish I had better shots of the whole outfit together but because I just moved I don’t have a full length mirror yet (I AM LIVING LIKE A SAVAGE), and my roommate was asleep and I didn’t want to wake her up to take my photos (also if I woke her up then I couldn’t watch her sleep) and so I was forced to snap above the head selfles.
Look at how coy I am! And with a little help from Instagram I’m basically now in addition to a fashion expert also a high end professional artistic phenomenal photographer. (LOLOLOLOLOLOL photographers that spent money on photography school where all you need now is a Mayfair filter LOLOLOLOLOLOLOL)
Btw, the best filter for dick pics is Rise (Zing! Thank you! Good night!)
They are hard to see but I am wearing the sweetest feather earrings made by one of favorites Catherine Weitzman (also the maker of the tiger necklace in the first photo and I’ve shared on this blog before).
The bag is one of my favorite things I own. I got it last year when I was doing copywriting for Macy’s and they had a sample sale. I also had to write copy for horrid MMA t-shirts for toddlers.
Here’s a better shot of the pants and shoes. The shoes are on their last leg, the gold is scrapping off the bottoms but dammit are they cute and comfortable, Aerosoles makes a sensible shoe and I’m a sensible gal (except when I’m drunk, depressed, on mushrooms, going through a spell of mania, or trying to pick frozen yogurt toppings).
The pants, can you believe they were $5? FIVE MUTHA FUCKING DOLLARS! I got them on sale at Urban Outfitters and was hesitant at first because red pants make me think of all the period accidents I witnessed in middle school and the dreaded “DC incident” where my 14 year old sister got her period and I was 10 and didn’t know anything about menstruation. We were on a family vacation in the nations capital and earlier in the trip I caught my mom washing my sister’s stained jeans in the hotel bathroom sink. I just assumed she cut her butt or something. Later when my sister and I got into a fight in a very crowded walk way of the Smithsonian I yelled ”at least I don’t bleed in my pants" But now that I own red pants I love red pants. Sometimes I question what to wear with them, but so far have found grey and denim to be complimentary. The other question I have is, do these pants make me look like my father will never be proud of me?
Unable to find a mirror or get the right self portrait angle, I decided there was only one more option- take a subway selfie. Subway windows are mirrors for homeless people and I’m not above (or sometimes far off from) being homeless chic. And yes, in this photo I was listening to 4 Non Blonds “What’s Up” on repeat because it’s my playlist and I’ll openly weep on public transportation if I want to.
Till next time!
Let It Go
Part of being a style icon is learning when to let go, of clothing baggage and emotional baggage (daddy issues are soooo 1998). As someone who is like really enlightened and shit I’ve like really mastered the Buddhist philosophy of non-attachment so I’m like really good at getting rid of material objects (aka I live in NYC with very little closet space). Cleaning your closet feels good, it’s like cleaning your soul and if you’re me, it’s like cleaning your amazingly styled everything-looks-adorable on me soul.
One of the things I let go of not too long away was this vintage leather Sherpa jacket. (If you followed http://www.dressedinprace.tumblr.com you’ve heard about this already but chances are you did not since that brilliant blog only had 2 followers. Eventually Brandy Barber, who I co-created the blog with, and I gave up on the blog. That happens a lot with blog ideas, you post like 3 things then you’re like “eh this is too much work.” But fear not Faux followers, I will not do that with this blog! Unless I get a real job).
Anyhoo, as a teen I wasn’t into vintage. Partly because of my mom’s aversion to “dirty” used items and partly because the only Belmont High students who wore thrift store clothes were the unaffected artsy kids who wanted to be unique and although I secretly was a very affected artsy kid I also desperately wanted to be accepted by the popular JCrew wearing crowd. So while the theatre kids shopped for $1 pound clothes at The Garment District in Cambridge, I was trying to convince myself polo shirts looked cool on girls.
Later, in college and more so in my twenties I began flirting with thrift stores in which I’d casually browse one a few times a year. I developed this weird luck where on my quarterly Goodwill trip I’d find the diamond in the rough (a special power I’ve also developed when hunting for parking spots). One of those gems was this jacket.
I saw it as soon as I entered the Salvation Army on Atlantic Avenue. It was 2007 and it was love at first site. The brown leather was this amazing rust shade that was made to compliment my skin tone. The fit was more flattering than I could have ever customized. And the fur collar gave it a fabulously feminine touch. I would have paid all I had for that jacket (which at the time was about $84 combined in my checking and savings) but it only cost $15. Who knew that a lifetime of stylish bliss would have such a tiny price tag?
This jacket and I immediately became a trendy team rocking the streets of Manhattan. People would stop me to ask where I scored such a sweet piece of fashion to which I’d reply “divine intervention darlin” (okay I never said that but this jacket was so cool that it felt like some Touched By An Angel shiz had gone down).
At an unstable time in my life, this jacket was something I could count on to make me feel good. Despite the fact that the leather on the back and shoulders began to tear, wearing this jacket still helped me pull myself together. I was in a relationship (much like my jacket) that was beautiful but pass it’s due date and about to expire, living in two cities and self medicating with late nights and bad decisions. But even after a late night of drinking or a morning of crying, this jacket paired with a wool cap masked any sign of unrest.
As the rips began to grow, I still wore it passing it off as “rugged.” But by 2010 rugged looked more like ransacked. Hopeful that I would find a craftsman to repair it or a cool patch to cover the damage, I threw it in my closet but then in 2011 I finally threw it in the garbage. Sometimes we (me) hold onto things even when they are broken, maturity is knowing when to say goodbye to something that cannot be fixed.
I still think about that jacket (how about you think about getting a 401K Rozzi?) and thank it for keeping me warm when I needed it most (cue Michael Jackson’s “You Are Not Alone”.)
If I can be brave and amazing and smart and perfect enough to part with my leather sterling BFF, you can surely part with that hideous Baby Phat track suit.
This week I attended a clothing swap with a bunch of ladies. Clothing swaps are a great place to not only get some new old clothes but also boast your self-esteem by sabotaging the other women’s experience.
Belt: Vintage, my mom’s
Pizza: part of the plot
I rocked by new silk romper to the soiree. Rompers are a cool comfy option for summer and great for when you want to get totally naked to pee.I felt sorta bad showing up looking so cute as often my dope outfit choices intimidate other women, but as soon as I caught a glimpse of my awesome self in the mirror I got over it. Not my fault not everyone is as fashionable as me.
I brought a pizza so that the gals would eat it and feel too fat to take the nice designer tailored items and just grab at the ugly XL large tees, thus leaving all the good shiz for moi.
These pretty lil’ turquoise suede kitten heels are one the more comfortable shoes I own and they are currently on sale at UrbanOutfitters.com and they look extra sexy when your feet swell up from humid summer bloat.
The gals all laid their unwanted items out the floor and we all began snagging things we liked. Notice the one girl in the background raising a bottle of wine in a “wad up yo?!” sort of way, she was great because pouring everyone wine, and with everyone being drunk it was easier for me to convince them that some really ugly items were amazing so that I could discreetly grab all the good stuff. Dumb girls!
As the night went on and the wine went in, I started styling the other girls. Since it is widely known that I am one of the most influential fashion icons ever to grace the planet, they were all thrilled to have someone of my style level doll them up. Little did they know I was dressing them up like morons, did they really think I was gonna help them look better than me when we headed to the bar. Ha! First I did up this gal in a t-shirt, no pants, white Puttin’ On The Ritz scarf, fedora get-up. I made sure to tuck her usually long lovely hair into the hat so that she looked like she was balding. What an idiot.
Then I styled this moron. I told her that dudes love super short chicks so we tied up her legs to make look like a toddler, hot right? Then I wrapped her up in a weird cloak thingy with a bow in her hair. She had a pretty hard time waddling to the bar with us so we ditched her somewhere in Union Square. LOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOL x 1,000!
By the end of the night, I was just as tipsy as the rest of the untrendy bunch. Note to self: never ever ever drink 3 glasses of Rose with no dinner. Luckily there were plenty of old sweaters in the clothing pile for me to vomit all over.