Wait. Fashion Tip Tuesday on a Thursday? That’s right, incredulistas. I am Rachel Maude and I exist OUTSIDE OF TIME. It’s like, here I am, toiling away at my laptop, ice-packing the rhinocerosian bags under my otherwise sprightly and vibrant brown eyes — just another drizzly mid-May Tuesday in Brooklyn, right? Ha! No. In fact, almost seven decades and two days have passed without my even noticing! My studio apartment is seriously like NARNIA, you guys. Which is a relief because — in addition explaining the bags under my eyes and the tiny tea-swilling faun who lives in my closet — it explains my total lateness updating my blog! You know, it’s just like John Lennon says: Life is what happens while you’re making other plans. I guess my life adds up to sixty-eight years of Googling pictures of malignant moles, Charlie Rose in various stages of undress, and my Amazon ranking. In other words? My life has gone exactly according to plan! Hahaha! Suck on that John Lennon! (But not really ’cause you’re dead and I love you.)

So! On to the fashion tip:

You know those totally cute empire waisted babydoll tops that everyone wears over jeans these days? I totally figured out a way to a) buy one that nobody else will be wearing guaranteed (i.e. you’ll get major props for originality) and b) do so at a majorly discounted price! What’s my secret you ask?

MATERNITY TOPS!

Seriously, have you ever tried on one of these things without the burden of a boring-ass baby bump? In one version you’re teetering around like a fat tick on stilts, but in the other (and this is the version we’re in, bébés!) you’re flitting about breezy as a butterfly. Seriously, all I had to do was tightly cinch my maternity top-of-choice with a ribbon and because I’m NOT PREGNANT (just a little gassy, okay?), all that extra material gathered into these fantastic, figure-flattering flounces and folds. In the end, the top didn’t resemble a top so much as an awesome baby doll dress: the kind of thing you can just as easily pair with opaque tights and slouchy boots as wear over jeans.

The other cool thing about maternity tops? You can get them for cheaps! Retailers rightly assume Tick Women aren’t going to break the bank for something they’ll wear nine months out of their lives. Which is why they sell them at scandalously low prices. I swear you can get some super hot numbers at places like Target or Old Navy, and because you choose to wear them NOT IN THE WAY THE TARGET LORDS INTENDED — you’ll look totally unique and cool.

Don’t believe me?

Check it:

Check it:

Check it:

Check it:

Yeah, this last one might need a hot pink belt to spice it up, but you get the point. Totally cute baby dolls, am I right???

Be the first on your block to rock one!

xo

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Dear Miss Maude,

I’m sooooo in love with someone that barely knows I exist! How do I get him to fall in love with me?

–Lauren, 15

Lauren, OMG:

I totally know how you feel except even more so because Zac Efron doesn’t know I exist at all let alone “barely.” But if Zac and I went to the same school — and if we were (even roughly) the same age — let me tell you: I’d stop at nothing, nothing, to make him look my way. Like, every time he walked down the hall I’d sort of lean against my locker and studiously examine my nails until the very last minute when I’d flick my eyes upward as he walked by, like, holding a basketball and everything would go slow-mo while the opening bars of “Good Vibrations” started to play except, of course, slightly modified to better express things Zac Efron.

“I-I-I…! I love the gray Nike muscle-tees he wear-a-ares… And the way the highlights play upon his hair-a-airs…”

And then, later that night, he’d call me up and ask me to be his girlfriend. Because, you know, if you stare at boys for long enough periods of time — preferably with part of your lunch clinging to your chin — they almost always fall in love with you.

Okay, fine. That’s a lie.

This is what I really recommend. Talk to him. I know, I know. Totally nerve-racking. Impossible, even. But remember: if he barely knows you… you barely know him. But I do! you protest. I watch him all the time. I know his favorite food is grape flavor and his favorite place is Maui!

Whatever.

Let’s return to me and Zac. I see that Kiehl’s-moisturized pretty-boy face of his and I think: of course we’re perfect for each other! But are we? The things I require in a bf: Must make me laugh. Must challenge me intellectually. Must strive to be a good person but never refer to himself as “a good person.” Must be a nice guy but never refer to himself as “a nice guy.” Must find farts hilarious. Must be loyal.

Is Zac all those things? I mean, I think so… but I can’t be sure. Not unless I talk to him and get to know him. And I don’t have that luxury. Just talk to this guy. And if you can’t talk to him, just think: at least I’m less pathetic than Rachel Maude. I know. Small consolation. But it’s something.

xo

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I decided to reserve Friday for discussion of All Things Guys, you guys. And I’ve received some complaints. Guys are so central, my dissenters argue–so woven into the very fabric of our lives–that to consign or “ghettoize” them to a single day out of the week is not only backward but, ironically, antithetical to my purpose: namely, to recognize and celebrate the invaluable contribution of the Guy people to history (of ma pants).

Anyway. To my dissenters I say: suck it.

And let me introduce you to my high school crush, Jeff Larson.

Sigh! So dreamy. And yeah. That perve-faced weirdo next to him is me. I can tell you exactly what I was thinking, too.

My shouldersth touching hith armpit! My shouldersth touching hith armpit! My shouldersth touching hith armpit! My shouldersth touching hith armpit! My shouldersth touching hith armpit! My shouldersth touching hith armpit! My shouldersth touching hith armpit!              

Don’t ask me why I lisp in my thoughts, okay? I just do.                                      

Anyway. Jeff and I barely talked in high school, but we’re facebook friends now. And in some countries? That’s practically the same as married.

xo

*Do you have a hottie you’d like to promote? Email DearMissMaude@gmail.com and share the love!

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I decided to devote Thursdays to book recommendations but um, I’m sorry. Already dropped the ball. In fact, I dropped the ball without ever having picked up the ball. Which is kind of awesome, when you think about it. 

My reason for not getting it together enough to write a book recommendation? I have a stye. Alternatively spelled sty. It’s basically a pimple on my eyelid. You know how when you feel nauseous you’re like: oh my god, how did I go around not feeling nauseous for so long without appreciating every minute? That’s how I feel about my sty. Regular pimples pale in comparison. Regular pimples don’t deform your face. My eyelid looks like a greasy pink slug. I swear. A greasy, drooping, puffy pink slug. I look like the kind of woman who hobbles around, chews cloves and mumbles spells under her breath. I also look like this:

Seriously. How did I walk around not looking like that for so long and not appreciate every minute? 

Instead of a book, I recommend you check out “The Goonies.” It’s one of my all time favorite movies, and — as you can see — my eyelid has a starring role. 

xo

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Okay, so lately I’ve been super into the skinny-belt-over-cardigan thing. Have you guys noticed this? Instead of buttoning your cardigan, which is so boring and intuitive, you bring in a totally unnecessary accessory and make getting dressed ten times more complicated. Check it:

Or — if you’re the type who needs celebrity stamp-of-approval — check it:

What’s with Scarlett’s face, btw? It’s like her teeth fused into one giganto uni-tooth. I know, I know… I’m being mean. But just ’cause I’m jealous.

OF HER TOTALLY AWESOME UNITOOTH.

Anyway.

In between writing the Poseur books, looking for treasure in my cat’s kitty litter, and dream-stalking Zac Efron, I’ve totally revolutionized the skinny-belt phenomenon. That’s right. Bringing it to a new level ladies! What have I done you ask? Aren’t a little old for Zac Efron you wonder?

Answer to the second question: WE’RE ALL THE SAME AGE IN OUR DREAMS.

Answer to the first: I skinny-belted my scarf!

See, one day it got a little too hot for a cardigan, so I put on my favorite James Perse wifebeater. It’s like three years old and has gone through eight gazillion washings so it’s a little on the threadbare side (i.e. you can totally see all of my bra) which is a little too slutty, even for me. And I’m a HUGE slut, bébés! Just ask Julius, the guy with the scraggle-beard who practically lives in a lawn-chair outside my local laundromat. When he’s not blasting Marvin Gaye on his scotch-taped boombox, or bumming cigarettes from his cronies outside Bagel Delight, he calls out to bedraggled, laundry-addled women (like me) and orders them to smile. If they refuse (like me) he mutters, “bitch” or “stupid slut.” I know, right?

It’s like he knows.

Anyway.

I draped a fluttery, printed silk scarf over the wifebeater (oh. Make sure your scarf is in a breezy, light material — because a wool scarf with a summery tank? Might look a little nutso), and then skinny-belted it into place. The cinched scarf looked so good I was like: I would do this even if I wasn’t wearing a skanky-ass tank-top!

Here. For visualization purposes, I drew a quick concept-sketch. (I took the pic with my laptop, so it looks a little ghetto — but you get the idea.)

I wore my scarf cinched in the middle, but you can try wearing it open, too. Like, check out Natalie Portman’s hot-to-trot Rodarte dress in this photo:

With an extra-long chiffon scarf and skinny belt (or even a delicate ribbon) you can totally create the same effect! And it costs, like, one millionth the price. I mean, unless you’re wearing a Chanel belt with a Hermès scarf, or something. In which case, ehm, I’m not jealous. Seriously.

Slut.

xo

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Dear Miss Maude,

I like this guy, but he has major mood swings. Sometimes he’s the perfect gentleman — other times he’s a total jerk. Is it worth pursuing things with him? Or should I put the idea out of my mind and stay friends… 

–Swing Upset, age 14

Miss Upset, OMG:

There’s totally an Aretha Franklin song about this! Aretha Frankin, for those of you not in the know, was the Beyoncé of her day. Some of you may recognize her as the woman who sang herself into a coma at Obama’s Inauguration, you know — wearing the bedazzled dead-cat bow hat?

Okay. So, despite her terrifying taste in headgear, woman knows a thing or two about the mens. Here’s A-Franks on mood swings:

Your love is like see saw, baby/ goin’ up, goin’ down, goin’ all around/ just like a see saw… You change just like the wind/ that ain’t right/ that ain’t right/ that ain’t right/ that ain’t right, baby.

Dude.

Are you seriously going to ignore not one, not two, but FOUR “that ain’t rights” from this woman? 

Now, I’m not saying boys shouldn’t be allowed to be moody once in a while. Maybe he’s just tired. Or hungry. Or mommy confiscated the Xbox that morning. If you can’t imagine a finger-wagging, no-you-didn’t song about it, you probably shouldn’t take it too personally. Remember, the typical Beyoncé song goes like this:

Any other day, I would call, you would say/  “Baby, how’s your day?”/ But today, it ain’t the same/ Every other word is, “uh huh, yeah, okay/ Could it be that you are at the crib with another lady?

Not like this:

Any other day, I would call, you would say/ “Baby, how’s your day?”/ But today, it ain’t the same/ Every other word is, “uh huh, yeah okay/ Could it be that you forgot to eat your string cheese?

Know what I mean?

Anyway. Whatever the cause of his mood swings, there’s never a good excuse to be rude, and make someone (like you) feel like crap. If that’s what’s happening, girl… walk away. And leave the swing, the see-saw, the whole damn playground, to his cranky, bad self.

*Have a question? Need some totally wack, unprofessional advice? Email me at DearMissMaude@gmail.com!

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