I'm starting an advice column by Olivia Hall

OOPS! I fell off the grid. How OLIVIA of me. 

That said, I've been writing a shit-ton, just not for myself which I promptly realized at 4 am last night while staring into my dog's asshole as he slept soundly on the cool side of my pillow. 


And I want to give you advice on how to dress. Want to know my qualifications? Here they are:

  1.  I've been writing about clothes and beauty for 5 years for lots and lots of publications. 
  2. I have been often told that I dress "confidently" and "like a total freak" but that I am also "good at shopping."
  3. Sometimes people ask me to clean out their closets. I've never done it, but if they offered to pay, I would. 
  4. Once I had a clothing column that got hundreds of comments until I told them I didn't find them interesting anymore. They revolted and called me a "privileged brat" and I had to write an apology which the commenters then told  me was a "perfect apology."
  5. I don't believe in "dressing your age", "being appropriate" or "capsule collections" so pretty much everything is fair game if you want it to be. 
  6. Once Aaron Carter told me I had bags under my eyes because I smoked. Look who came out on top...

See?! MAD qualifications!

Ok so here is how to get in touch: on the tweeter, gram, contact page, or email me direct. Send me whatever! With photos, or not! Tell me if you don't want me to use your name and I won't! 

Let's see how this goes and everybody say a little prayer that I don't get harassed by that troll who sends me photos of his vagina butt asking about tight pants. 


The Shoes That Sealed My Fate As An Old Lady Who Values Comfort by Olivia Hall

There were days when I legit wore 6-inch heels every day. I used to walk miles--NYC Miles--in Kork-Ease Bette's. They don't make them anymore--an always fabulous and shithead statement--but these shits were a wet blowjob of a shoe and I wore them with cutoff shorts and spaghetti straps because I was tryna get fucked pretty much all the time. Bending over was like target practice!

Well, I'm engaged now. 

When my mom was visiting me and my soon-to-be betrothed, she saw my favorite flatforms--the beginning of the end--and was not pleased with the fact that they were worn down to the point where ankle rolls were just part of my gait. So she offered to buy me some shoes, as moms do when they want to regain control of your life. Naturally, she got me these:

Yes yes yes. I know. They are like the poor schlumpy cousin of Nike Frees. But GODDAMN do they feel like walking on marshmallows. Motherfucking marshmallows. These little, speckled beauties may make my feet look like they are being bound by my surrender, but guess what: MARSHMALLOWS. Oh, and I don't have to wear socks with them because they breathe and I can put them in the washing machine AND the dryer. Whatever man, convenience is key. 

ALSO, once I saw a very fashionable woman at Dover Street Market wearing similar shoes (ok they were just Nike Frees that were a little worn-in) and she looked very VERY cool. So, suck it. 

Don't you think for a second I still don't have that high-ass striding slut inside me anymore. She's there, just she needs her naps and the most major bending over she does is in her herb garden. 

Hey, I Think I Know Her... by Olivia Hall

 A series I wrote a loooooooong time ago. I love women, but archetypes give me a sense of control in a world full of chaos that I literally never feel a part of. Leaving comments on because I'm a DL masochist.



Alex Schwartz is outspoken, whip-smart, had a great full-time internship in college and now owns her own company. Her strong work ethic, A-type personality, and hefty trust fund catapulted her into being voted one of NY Magazine's “30 Young Supple Women That Will Make You Shit Your Pants In 2017.” Her most-liked Instagram was a selfie featuring her “I Voted” sticker on her understated Burberry trench outside of her local Park Slope Community Center. #ImWithHer



Clarissa tried to live in Manhattan after she graduated NYU but her needy mother expertly beckoned her back to Clarissa’s hometown — Brentwood, Los Angeles — with the promise of a “modest” sun-filled home of her own. After saving so much time not having to furnish her new ranch house (her mother did that a month before she moved in) Clarissa was able dive into her passion of painting and adopting elderly one-legged dogs. Occasionally, she models for Rag & Bone to supplement her monthly allowance. 




Between manning the front desk at her uncle’s best friends gallery in Chelsea and running her own micro-gallery in Chinatown, everything in Trudy’s closet has to be either black or white or Alexander Wang. Her most recent curatorial collaboration included artists from three different continents, five of her best friends, and a black person. 




Teeny (real name Claire Turner) came on to the scene with a blunt in one hand and a limited edition titanium iPhone in the other. Her withering stare and DSLs make most men give her all the drugs she wants, but this bitch doesn’t take handouts: she makes her own money featuring hair vitamins and 5-Hour Energy Drinks to her 1 million Snapchat followers. 




Back In The Game: This Blog Is Happening...Again. by Olivia Hall

So you know when you are trying to write and type something that is just so gross and maybe a bit mean and you think "Delete that you psycho, you'll never work again if you casually talk about ripping out a Prince Albert with your teeth"? 

I know it's not just me.

I've been writing a ton in the past year and due to my own personal and financial fears I toned my voice down a bit. Shit dog, unless you've got a book deal, nobody wants to hear your deep dark unless it is cute and just edgy enough to keep the advertisers feeling buy-y. 

So, I'm starting to write for myself, if only to get out the grossness that I delete from the stuff I actually get paid for.  As a great editor once said to me "You have no regard for punctuation but your voice is so loveable it doesn't matter." And thus began a blog with no regard for punctuation and a completely un-loveable voice. 

I'm grossly inconsistent but maybe this will help me stay on my toes. Maybe this will be the only thing I ever post. Who cares! It's free! Isn't that what the internet is all about?!