My Stitch Fix Experience

I’ll start by saying that I wasn’t paid or asked to review Stitch Fix because I’m not an actual, established, blogger. Yet. I’m a stay-at-home mom who gets bored and wants t…

Source: My Stitch Fix Experience

Advertisements

My Stitch Fix Experience

I’ll start by saying that I wasn’t paid or asked to review Stitch Fix because I’m not an actual, established, blogger. Yet. I’m a stay-at-home mom who gets bored and wants to try my hand at blogging.


It’s no secret that I can’t dress myself. But, I figured that I might as well start actually trying, and I signed up for Stitch Fix back in October. My first fix was coming  just in time for family pictures (which turned out to be a disaster but that’s neither here nor there). I was super excited! And then I got my box.

Now, I had no intentions of ever writing anything about Stitch Fix so I have no pictures, no receipts, no nothing. I do, however, have a really good memory. So, I had written a note to my stylist telling her about family pictures, and then an upcoming date night in the city that I would love to dress nicely for. I explained that in our pictures, my daughter would be wearing a navy blue and dark green Christmas dress from Janie and Jack (swoon). She put together a fix that included $80 or $90 black skinny jeans, a black studded top (that I could have made myself using a few sheets of black tissue paper and those round, gold stickers that they give you at the Hallmark stores), a dark green tunic that may or may not have been a maternity top, a navy blue elephant scarf, and an oatmeal colored, hooded cardigan. I was mildly disappointed as I packed up everything but the cardigan and scarf to be sent back. And, for the record, I really did love the two items I kept. I still wear the scarf all the time. Now fast forward to the second time I wore the cardigan. By the end of the second wear, the sleeves had lost their shape completely, and there were pulls all over it. And I hadn’t even washed it yet. It’s pretty much unwearable.

My second fix was an even bigger disappointment. A different stylist had put together a box of clothes that was basically the same box I’d received the month prior. Except this time, the jeans were green (just, nope), the tissue paper top was navy/green plaid, there was another top that didn’t even kind of fit, and a gray sweater with two sad lace elbow patches. I kept that one just so I didn’t lose my $20 styling fee. After one wear, it was covered in pills. I completed the review of my fix and sent a polite but clear message to the next stylist that they needed to do better. Maybe actually look at my Pinterest board that they suggested I make and add to my profile?

After that second fix, I emailed the company about my concerns with their overall quality. I explained about the shapelessness and the pilling of the two sweaters I had purchased. I wasn’t really expecting them to do anything about it other than apologize and assure me that their clothes aren’t crap, but they actually refunded the full price of both sweaters AND the styling fee from my second fix since I had only kept one item. I thought that was really awesome of them, and I didn’t cancel.

My third fix (and third designer) was a hit! I loved everything in it including a top that I would have NEVER tried on in a store and my best friend told me she’d pay me NOT to wear. I kept all five pieces and requested that this stylist also do my next fix. But then it all goes back to the quality of their clothes. One of the tops (which was only slightly thicker than tissue paper) probably won’t last through a couple of washes, and the sweater already has pulls all over it. I haven’t complained about them (although I probably should) because I can still wear them at this point.

This is what you see when you open your box


My fourth (and as of ten minutes ago, final) fix came today and even though it was put together by the same stylist, it was a total disaster. I’m obsessed with scarves and was excited to see that one was in my fix. I was less excited at the color and pattern, but figured hey! Step out of the comfort zone and try it! It’ll go with things! And then I found that it’s already falling apart.

I love how neatly they fold everything



Then I saw this lace front top and thought, LOVE! Until I tried it on and could see right through the front of it. I mean, it could be worse but no one needs to see how high I jack up my yoga pants in an effort to hold everything in.

Seriously. I could see perfectly through this top.
Just yikes.


The stylist said that this plaid shirt has pops of pink – I don’t see pink. I see red. Which is fine, but this top (like the last plaid shirt they sent me) was paper thin and too small on the top.

It’s super thin


This black “cardigan” is the one piece I’m keeping (again, just so I don’t lose $20) but it’s far from a cardigan. A cardigan is a sweater, right? This isn’t a sweater. It’s a shirt. And it’s super thin so it’s pretty useless in New England until the end of March. If I’m lucky. I wouldn’t expect any of these tops to make it through the washing machine.


I’m not even stretching the fabric here. Just holding it up. 


And I got the black skinny jeans again. Those are comfy, and they seem like they’ll actually hold up well, but I can find something similar and cheaper at Banana Republic.

And in case you’re wondering what all of this costs, here’s my invoice. I’ll get $20 off of the “cardigan” that I’m keeping so it’s costing me $28 instead of $48. Had they sent me a scarf that I loved, then I’d only be spending $8. I just really didn’t want that red bird scarf.

That’s a lot for flimsy shirts in my opinion.

And here’s where they get you – if you love something in your fix but don’t want to spend what they’re charging, you can’t even get it somewhere else because most (if not all) of what they send you is made exclusively for Stitch Fix.
I’m super disappointed in Stitch Fix, and I can’t say that I’d recommend it to anyone. Unless you have lots of discretionary income to blow through and don’t mind paying $48-68 for a shirt that you can wear once or twice. If that’s the case, then go for it because it is exciting when you get a box of surprise goodies!

If you’ve tried Stitch Fix and had an awesome experience then please let me know if it’s worth giving them a second chance!

Oh Yeah…I started this blog

Sooooo….yeah. Now you get the whole “Fabulously Un-fabulous” thing, right? Fabulous idea for a blog, un-fabulous at actually following through with it. But, in my own defense, the past few months have been a total shit show. Kind of. For a while. I think. Anyway, moving on.

Speaking of moving, I read an article in the Wall Street Journal like, a week or two ago about grown kids moving back into their parents’ house. Apparently, it’s the thing to do these days. And I thought, LOSERS! Who the hell moves back in with their parents!? Then I realized, oh yeah. I did! Yup. That’s right. Me, the hubs and the kiddo have taken up residence in my parents’ house. Ouch.

Peace out Florida! And for the record, this is not an advertisement for Atlas. Atlas moving company sucked.

During the two years we spent living in the swamp Florida, we kept a running list of reasons why we needed to get the hell out of there as quickly as possible. I think we made it into the 40s. Bugs, lizards, razor blade grass, killer ants, and the meth lab that was busted just off of our exit were all pretty near the top of that list.  I needed to come back. So when my husband put his feelers out for jobs in the northeast, we didn’t realize just how quickly he’d get scooped up. It went like this: phone interview, flew up for an in-person interview, job offer, move, start new job. And it all happened in less than a month. We had, I think, just over two weeks to pack up and move. Luckily, our lease was up and all we had to give our grubby landlord was 15 days notice – and that’s exactly what he got – and my mother-in-law flew down for a week to help us pack. This woman is an expert when it comes to packing up a house.

Hubs signing his official offer letter

Thanks to Facebook and its “swip swap” groups I sold off most of our furniture and random household items. It still amazes me at the crap people will buy – used breast pump anyone? Everything else went out to the curb and we got to watch the trash pickers come and go through our garbage. (Garbage pickers were also high up on our “Why we need to get the fu#@ out of Florida” list). And now the rest of our stuff is sitting in two storage units that cost us almost $300 a month. I try not to think about that.

So moving back home is obviously not ideal because we are a young(ish) family and we’re used to having our own space. Luckily, my parents’ house has a pretty good setup. The master bedroom is downstairs, so we have the entire upstairs to ourselves. And our room is big enough for us to have our own living area with a couch and tv apart from our bed. It’s also only 20 minutes away from my husband’s office, less than 2 hours from New York, and we are saving a shit ton of money. Our goal is to have a house of our own at least lined up by this time next year. Or, if we can take it, stay a few extra months and pay off my stupid student loans. But let’s take it one month at a time. We’ve been here almost 5 months now and I’m not sure how much more “you have the refrigerator door open too wide” comments I can take. Seriously Mom, is that even an actual thing!?

At the end of the day, we owe my parents a huge debt of gratitude. Because living rent free is pretty awesome. Plus my mom and I alternate cooking dinner which is also awesome. And, tonight’s my night so I have to go and figure that out now. Suggestions welcome!

I’m totally fat shaming…myself

Once upon a time, I was blessed with amazing genes that didn’t require me to work out or watched what I ate. In fact, I bragged about the fact that I’d never stepped foot into a gym but went out for fried ice cream at least 2-3 times a week. O.M.G. Those were the days.

Well who knew that at 16 my metabolism was already middle aged? Because once I hit 25, it died. Like, literally just died and I had no idea it was dying until the effects of its decomp were already wreaking havoc on my still living self. And it just happened. I’ll never forget that what the fucking fuck feeling I had when I couldn’t get my favorite jeans up…it’ll haunt me forever. And so I became just another number in the great obesity epidemic.

A self-portrait

Over the years, I’ve joined gyms and I don’t think there’s anything I sucked at more than trying to work out. So I really just wasted a whole lot of money (which I REALLY hate doing). And over the years I just got fatter which was, again, terrible. I considered myself lucky that I only gained 10lbs during my pregnancy, but then I was 10lbs heavier than I was before I got knocked up and just yikes.

So last year I finally got my ish together and joined Orange Theory Fitness which I LOVE! Like, I’m totally addicted to it now. And I dropped 10lbs by doing one month of a modified Whole 30 diet. It sucked at first, but by the end of the 30 days it had become a way of life and I felt great. Totally healthier. Then the holidays came and we know how that story goes. So now, 6 months later, I’m going to try it again. And because positivity just doesn’t work for me, I’m taking a different route. I found this shirt, and I’m kind of obsessed with it and all of its assholeness.

I wish it came in more colors because I feel like I should have one for every day of the week. I’m thinking that if I wear this shirt, every day, then it’ll remind me to not eat like a cow at a trough (do cows eat at troughs?). Because even though our society currently thinks that it’s empowering and cool and fabulous to embrace the morbidly obese, I’m telling you that it’s not.

As someone who is technically considered obese, I can tell you that it’s unhealthy, unattractive, and entirely UN-fabulous. And in case you don’t believe me when I tell you that I have joined the ranks of the great overweights, I have proof in the form of an obesity analysis. This one was done in October 2015 before I lost 10lbs. Now, that black line is juuuust over the normal range of 25 (26.6 to be precise) and it needs to be well below. I’m shooting for 20s all around – BMI and PBF. That’s a nice, round number.

See? There it is, ON PAPER! 

Also, I’m hoping this blog should give me some accountability. Hopefully.

PS. Another reason why losing weight is super important. Us fatties just look sloppy in yoga pants.

The Great Pants Debate

Can we talk about yoga pants, please?

Once upon a time, I was a young, tall and skinny college student and I basically started the whole “let’s live in our sweatpants” trend. Seriously. I had a friend who could attest to that but he’s kind of dead now – okay, actually dead now – so you’ll just have to take his word for it. While all of the other 18-19 year olds were getting dolled up for class, I was like, nope! Sweats all day every day. I had two dressers in my bedroom and one had four or five of its six drawers filled with every pair of sweatpants that Abercrombie & Fitch carried – side note: this was when Abercrombie was cool. Like, really cool. And not only did I shop there, but my skinny college freshman self was “recruited” to work there. Le sigh. But I digress.

Aside from working at Abercrombie, I also waited tables (because my entire A&F paycheck went towards more sweatpants). And one day I had the pleasure of waiting on Clinton Kelly from “What Not to Wear” (who was actually a really sweet guy). We were chatting about the show and I told him about my sweatpants obsession. It didn’t go over well, and he gave me this little note…
Frown away Clinton Kelly. I wasn’t about to give them up.

But I did graduate to yoga pants somewhere in those years and here we are today, debating on whether or not they’re actually pants. And I totally say that they are because they’re amazing. And comfortable. And so versatile. I mean, you can do anything in yoga pants – and, to you know exactly who you are, yoga pants always provide easy access. You’re welcome! – and be comfy. And you can totally dress them up (I may or may have worn really nice, new yoga pants to work on more than one occasion).

***Side note, I’m actually typing this while watching the premiere of “Ride With Norman Reedus” and I bet he’d be WAY more comfy on that motorcycle if he were wearing a good pair of yoga pants. And, if you happen to stumble across this little blog Robert Kirkman, you can click the contact link above and I’ll be glad to send you my information so that you can put my name in the credits for Norman’s wardrobe.***

Now that I totally lost my train of thought – because that’s what picturing Daryl Dixon in yoga pants will do to anyone – back to yoga pants. My best friend, who actually has to wear professional -ish clothes, claims that yoga pants are simply not real pants. I disagree.

Prince George (aka my future son-in-law) met Obama while he was in his pjs and fancy bath robe. So if comfort is paramount for royalty, then that means yoga pants are, in fact, real pants. I wish I had screenshots of that Facebook post. We had that exact discussion and the internet trolls came out swinging about how we were either bashing Obama or commenting on a 2-year-old’s wardrobe. I’m still not sure how discussing whether or not its acceptable to wear pajamas while meeting a president is inappropriate but, like I said, internet trolls.

I think that’s really all the argument you need. So I’m going to go read my book in my favorite Lululemons. Ahhh, stay-at-home mom life. Happy Monday!

 

I Am Fabulously Unfabulous

Which basically means that I’m fabulous at being completely and utterly un-fabulous. Still confused? Okay. The bottom line is that I’d love to be fabulous and, at times, I totally am. But then there’s this pesky little thing called perspective.

It’s like, my best friend and I documented our friendship over the past however many months – and we’ve been friends for over ten years so we don’t know why we didn’t think to do this sooner – via text messages AND an epic group text with our other best friend, who was my best friend first over 20 years ago and now they’ve totally fallen in bestie love with one another. So when we talk about this hilarious documentation of our lives, we’re so proud of our fabulousness. And then we realize that we’re probably the only ones who find each other funny. And I’m probably the least funny out of the three of us. See? Fabulously unfabulous.

But, on the bright side, I think that some of my unfabulousness actually morphs into some really fabulous stuff…sometimes. For example, I’m a terrible housekeeper. Like, really really awful. I’ll never forget the first time I ever mopped a floor (it was my first job at an animal hospital, which really isn’t a place where you want to see a poorly cleaned floor). I had done the worst. job. ever. I’m still not even sure how you can mess up mopping a floor, but I can. But, whatever because now, a lot of years later, I’m still a terrible mopper but I have found a fabulous cleaning lady – who, on her first day, texted me to ask where she could find the mop. Cue deer in the headlights look, because I DIDN’T EVEN OWN ONE! To be fair, our entire house is carpet except for the kitchen and bathrooms. And we don’t wear shoes in the house so they don’t get that dirty and when they did, I’ve cleaned them (poorly) by hand. But at least now I own a mop. See? Fabulous in the end. Now I have a clean house AND I own a mop.

Some other things I’m pretty awful at:

  1. Dressing myself. Because yoga pants, I’ve been told, are not actually real pants. Although I’d like to have a real debate on this.
  2. Applying makeup. Seriously, no matter how much I spend on the stuff, I always look like a hooker coming off of a long shift within 30 minutes of applying. *Note to self – find some YouTube videos on how to apply eyeliner.
  3. Taking selfies. I can’t do it. I’ve tried. I always look contorted – like my face is at some crazy angle or one eye looks way bigger than the other. Or it looks like I have five chins. Although I’ve never tried a selfie stick. Would that help? Maybe a little?
  4. Anything crafty. I actually don’t even get Pinterest fails. I get a bag of shit I bought so that I could try and make a Pinterest project which I inevitably lose the receipt to and then I’m stuck with a $75 bag of mod podge, spray paint, glitter and wood.
  5. Decorating. My house, Christmas trees, you name it. I know what I like, but for some reason I just can’t put it together. Someday, when we’re living in a more permanent residence, I’ll hopefully end up with a fabulous interior decorator. And one specially to decorate for Christmas, because, duh it’s Christmas and it should look like a winter wonderland that’s been barfed on by the glitter fairies.

I promise there are a million other things I’m terrible at, and we’ll discuss them all. Maybe, just maybe, in the end I’ll come out just a little fab.