In the summer of 2003, I had already spent six months at East LA College after having dropped out of UC Santa Cruz (half-assedly completing just one quarter there; the Cruz just wasn’t doing it for me - I’m all for protesting solidarity until I find out that you have no idea which campaign you’re yelling about, which actually happened while I was there). I was down on my luck, out on just a buck and felt completely incompetent when I reunited with my friends who had just come back from their first years at Berkeley, Michigan, Syracuse, and other far off places.
I spent a lot of time reading the Los Angeles Times, the New York Times, LA Weekly, Pasadena Weekly, The Fountainhead, Bukowski and in those works I was trying to narrow down what it was I was supposed to be doing with my life. And then the best distraction came - The OC where the famous “Welcome to the OC, bitch!” and “Chino? Ew!” and “Pittsburgh? That’s like the 909 of the east!” were born. I’m not from Orange County. I find Orange County dreadful. But damn, I loved that show. Intense high school dramas, corrupt adult dramas, fun music, pretty people, Adam Brody, amazing clothes!
Fashion crash: true, some of the fashions of 2003 must die with 2003 - trucker hats, Uggs, vintage tees with everything, expensive designer everything. But it’s because of that show that I started wearing belts again (both around my pants and low around the hips), I’m bold enough to layer a strapless dress or top over a button down or another top, I color-block, I wear hats, I pair yellow with blue and red and I don’t care what anyone else says. Yes, The OC is still very influential in my life.
via this link
(I’d still wear any of these outfits except Kirsten’s. What’s she doing?)
This summer of 2011, I’m seeing a lot of myself in 2003: down on my luck, scraping by on just a buck and feeling a little lost when I think about my friends who are buying houses, getting married, having babies, graduating with master’s degrees. I’m reading a lot and back to trying to figure out what the hell I’m supposed to do with my life while I spend a lot of time at home watching replays of The OC season one online. Welcome to New York City, bitch. This is what dreams are made of.