Emily Ellet

All my life, I’ve had this one little problem. I always overdress. It’s not intentional, I promise.  Most of the time, I’m just trying to fit in, although admittedly that’s something I’ve had issues with my whole life.  In fact, occasionally I wonder which came first – the overdressing or the trouble fitting in?  Chicken or egg, perhaps. Either way, I just never seem to match those around me.  When others wore sneakers, I wore penny loafers.  When they upgraded to ballet flat

My mom is going to kill me if she ever reads this blog post. Oddly enough, when I reached high school and developed an appetite for high heels, Mom, a shoe girl herself, was more than happy to buy me cute pairs of high heels I didn’t necessarily need – though, consistent with her mantra, they were all very good quality.  Boy, did I have a great heels wardrobe: some pink BCBG open toe pumps with a big bow, a pair of faux-crocodile skin black stilettos with a silver heel, just

Several weeks ago, a good friend of ours held a going-away party, as she was leaving NYC to head back home.  Sad occasion, but a great excuse to get dressed up, right?! Let me say, I went all out!  Fancy smoky eyeliner wings, a dress I haven’t gotten to wear in years (you can see why…), and TEASED hair. Actually, side note, I was quite proud of that hair!  It was the result of trying a technique I learned from my frequent hair modeling sessions for Bumble and Bumble.  You see

It started during my days at a desk job, when I’d get SUPER bored and have nothing to do and read endless articles and blogs on the Internet.  Eventually, one of the bloggers I was reading linked to Pinterest, and the scrapbooker in me freaked the heck out.  I could pin endless images?  I could organize them in as many categories as I wanted?  I could scroll through them for eternity? I know, most of you probably don’t need a rundown of why Pinterest was so phenomenal to me. 

I’m about to change my closet over from summer to fall, but here’s an outfit post from a few months ago! This summer, I was inspired to clean out my closet yet again.  I have done this countless times, admittedly, but this time I was ruthless.  The result was a full kitchen trash bag of items in great condition but not right for me – obviously, this meant it was time for a clothing swap. However, a funny thing happened.  The morning after my purge, I woke up thinking about on

It made complete sense to be a fashion blogger last year, when my sister Amy suggested we try our hand at it over at FashionablyLateSisters. After all, I was working an “normal-person” office job, and so dressing up in a new outfit each day was one of the few ways to be creative and stay entertained with life.  Also, due to my light workload, I spent countless work hours on Pinterest and fashion blogs, not to mention pouring through every single picture of every single design

Have I ever changed my tune now!  I have a brown daytime purse, a black daytime purse, a black crossbody bag, two different totes (but neither are the “right” one), a vintage coral handbag, and a shelf of small clutches and evening bags.  Then I have my two backpacks, one big and one small.  And believe it or not, I use all of these items consistently.  And I have my eye on two Vera Bradley bags, the tote (the “right” one!) bag and the weekend/duffel/diaper bag. This is becau

So as I said when I started this blog back up, I’m not completely abandoning my sartorial predilections.  It’s just that I only wear (and endlessly repeat) about three real outfits a month, and the rest of the time I’m in dance clothes or shorts and a tank top – hardly bloggable.  Auditioning has a uniform, but from time to time, I do get inspiration for a fresh take.  Such as this one: I’m a huge picnic fan.  I’ve always wanted one of those big wicker picnic baskets and a gi

Every Saturday afternoon this summer, I got to sit on a hard wooden bench in a non-air-conditioned windowfront with the lovely hot sunshine pouring down onto me, trying to ignore the tickling pink feathers of the increasingly bedraggled boa around my neck.  (You don’t want to know about the poor pink evening dress clinging to my back in a sticky sweat.)  As the mic tape pulled the tiny hairs around my hairline and the beads of perspiration created a small pond at my feet, I s