Gwen Stefani is My Jam, and She's Coming Back to Fashion Week!

Here's what I know: You are the hottest thing out there, as long as you're you. 

Gwen Stefani is my jam, guys.

She has style by the balls. 

Once upon a time, I was a fat kid in a horse camp tee shirt (HORSE CAMP WAS THE SHIT, don't hate), hanging out 90s style listening to No Doubt on my futon. I hadn't figured out how curly hair worked yet, and I had a mop of it that I would strategically plaster back into a tightwad bun as soon as I got out of the shower every morning. By lunchtime, the hair around my temples did a Sideshow Bob thing and I looked fly-er than fly, let me just tell you. I was a greasy fifth-grader, I had just hit 5'10" (I am still exactly that tall, and I am still a head taller than most people I know, and now I love it) and while I had a lot to say, I was the kind of kid who kept my head down and didn't speak much in school. I was awkward as ass and super shy, even though there were only like 10 kids in my class. I would return home at the end of the day, trip over my stovepipe jeans as I ran up the stairs to slam my door and fill journal after journal with whatever super serious issues I was facing (like Melissa R. didn't invite me to her birthday party and my 5th grade brain/heart couldn't deal), and eat a bag of Spicy Nacho Doritos in its entirety. Because that's what I did. I looked at Gwen Stefani and thought, HOLY SHIT. She was amazing. She was fearless. She had blue hair and wore bindi dots, for chrissakes, and I was completely enamored of this West Coast goddess. Her GIRLS ROCK message didn't hurt, either.

This, ladies and gentleman, was my idol.

She made awkward hot before she blossomed into a freaking divine fashion entity. All hail!



You rock those braces, 1999 Gwen Stefani. She stepped out in front of the entire world in braces, and it didn't seem to faze her a tiny bit. And let's all just remind ourselves, here, this badass snagged Gavin Rossdale while wearing braces. 

This led to my wearing of bindi dots (which seemed like the most daring thing in the world to me, at the time) with glittery jelly bracelets and frayed boy jean/ironic tee combos that were too short for me (figuring out how to dress a giant and overweight 5th grader body was really interesting). And Airwalks, I don't know where that part came from, but I wore lots of Airwalks. I don't even think I have photos of this anywhere, but if I ever find one, I promise full blog disclosure. Because I'm sure they would be tremendous, and horrifying, and great. And they should be seen. And they probably include my awesomely bad attempts at recreating this haistyle:

The amazing thing about it, though, was that unaware as my little untamed-eyebrow-sporting head may have been at the time, this was when I realized I could say something without speaking at all (Gwen seemed to be saying plenty, just in photos, from the pages of Teen Bop or whatever the hell I read). It taught me that my style was a language of sorts. When you're just starting off your teen years, and body parts don't match and voices are cracking and everything is gross, and so many of us have something in our heads saying YOU HAVE NO FREAKING CLUE WHAT YOU'RE DOING, that's kind of huge. Especially if one of your pubescent issues is being totally scared to speak up for yourself like I was, because at that age (and sometimes beyond), so many of us think all we can do is blend into the walls to survive. 

So one little bindi dot, to my chubby junior high self, was enormous. It was a catalyst. It was the spark that took a lot of self-hatred and fear as kindling, and burned it up into beautiful tendrils of smoke that I could do with as I pleased. That fire has burned brighter and fizzled and reignited itself over the years so many times, and it's still going strong. It's what teaches me to listen to the inner guide that steers me always toward my highest good, even though sometimes I want to tell that bitch to shut up and let me eat ALL OF THE DOUGHNUTS IN THE WORLD. 

It was the beginning, for me, of finding my voice-- seeing someone who appeared to be authentically herself, and making no apologies. I think at some point, most of us have that moment (the one that says, it's cool, you don't have to try so hard-- just be you.) and usually it comes in a form we couldn't possibly have anticipated. And, sometimes, we don't realize what's happened until many years down the line. We just know that our skin feels suddenly more tailored to our bodies. Whatever that moment was for you, or whatever it's going to be, I'm so entirely glad for it (and for you!!!!). Look back at all of your embarrassing fashion mishaps, folks. I think they're something to be proud of. Even if you looked like an idiot. No, especially if you looked like an idiot. Because hey, you've gotta be willing to look like an idiot once in a while to get where you want to go. Also, you can use those photos to remind yourself just how ahead of the trend you are, because THE 90S ARE BACK, HOMIES! Do what you will with that.

This is happening now, and I don't think I am going to be able to resist it. Hi, Adidas slides!

Buy them here.

These days, Gwen has ditched the braces and is a rockstar mother, wife, The Voice judge/coach, musical powerhouse, overall inspiring human, and fashion design vixen extraordinaire. She's been absent from Le Runway for a spell, busy being there for her family and whatnot. I am SO thrilled to hear that she will be returning to show at Fashion Week this September (read more about it here). SQUEEEEEEE. 

Anywhoooo, I would love to give an enormous thank you to this woman for helping me see that style is an amazing form of expression. It's been awesome and ridiculous to see her trasnformation over the years, and I can't wait to see what she comes up with next. 

Queen of L.A.M.B.

I wonder if I still have that Horse Camp tee kicking around somewhere? What a treasure.

Go forth, be you, and commence with badassery. 

XO,

Ash