I share my laptop with my boyfriend, and every once in a while I'll go on eBay and, for a minute, feel like I'm living in a parallel universe where I'm really into obscure comic books and Tokyo Drifter movie posters and Steven Alan.  Then I'll realize, "Oh, he forgot to log out." Usually this experience irritates me—like eBay is meant solely for my quirks and desires—but the other day, instead of calling out sarcastically, "Hey, what are you looking for on eBay?", I continued on with my boyfriend's rather broad Steven Alan search and found a bunch of really great stuff for women. This tie-waist tunic looks like it would be amazingly versatile; I additionally love this offbeat white polka-dot cashmere sweater ; and I don't know that I can wait to wear this plaid boatneck shirt with a denim pencil skirt, a soft cardigan, and extra-comfortable red ballet flats.

Last night while walking home from the grocery store (I made an amazing coq au vin for dinner—you must try it, but add potatoes), I smelled something familiar and fleeting and filled with the promise of pure, breezy joy. I smelled spring. This moment triggered a montage of everything good about warm weather: long walks in the city, air rustling in the trees, bike rides, dew, drinking outdoors, and, of course, my greatest summer love, sundresses. Seriously, as soon as the weather gets above 50 degrees, I begin exuberantly, recklessly collecting sundresses. They're so cheap! They're so cute! You can wear them anywhere! I'm a little ahead of myself this season, but how could I possibly resist the Barbi Benton-on-The Love Boat charms of this mauve spaghetti-strap style? Or wouldn't you just die to walk around a little Caribbean town wearing this and a pair of flip-flops? How about this plaid jumper with neutral-colored Vans? And is it just me, or does the person wearing this adorable red Mexican dress look just like Jael from cycle 8 of America's Next Top Model?

I have childhood toy flashbacks the way I imagine some people have out-of-nowhere acid-trip memories. All of a sudden, I'll be walking down the street and I'll hear the low, Jaws-like tones of the '70s light-up game Simon in my head, or I'll remember the commercial jingle and distinct weight and feel of a Weeble. Lately I can't shake how much I loved Lite-Brite, to a degree that I feel I need to own it again. I want to plug in this near-mint Lite-Brite on my kitchen counter and make colorful, rudimentary roosters, or go all rebellious on the machine and create little illuminated notes for the week. I like how it's kitschy in the best way: It harks back to everything I loved about 1978 but also has a timelessly sleek, space-age design.

How are we feeling about vests? I, personally, am feeling ashamed, like I took a sketchy lover to bed and am now, somehow, caught up in an irresistible web of danger. Here's what happened: I had flirted with the idea of vests since, like, last spring, when they started showing up with cute shorts and T-shirts. But I felt conflicted. Were these pieces the best of the late '80s, like Mary Stuart Masterson in Some Kind of Wonderful? Or were they too much like a my-first-waitress uniform, only missing bits of flair? Then I saw one at Forever 21, and it was cheap, and so I bought it. And now, well, I CAN'T STOP WEARING THIS VEST. I've worn it over dresses and button-downs and with a striped long-sleeved tee. Today, I've paired it with a fetching floral-print turtleneck. It's becoming a fashion security blanket, my outfits seem unfinished without it, and I know this whole mess has to stop. But before it does, I think I'll buy just one more, this time with subtle stripes.

Last week our completely cool and crush-worthy beauty assistant Cat Marnell came to me with an urgent request: "I need you to help me find that sweater that Marilyn Monroe is wearing on the beach during that photo shoot where she's also wrapped in a blanket and it's famous and it's from right before she died. Google image 'Marilyn Monroe Beach' right now. Please." I love fulfilling style inspirations like this. To me, getting a look in your head that you absolutely need to try is one of the most fun and creative things about fashion. So, I looked on eBay.  And I looked some more. And I tried different searches. And I looked in Men's. And...nada. What I did find was a slew of awesome vintage ski sweaters like this and this and this, which I can't wait to wear with boots and jeans or on the weekends to replace my ratty hoodie with Chucks. And, in the end, Cat found a pretty-close replica of the MM sweater on sale at Daffy's and I got a sweater with unicorns. Everybody wins.

I went to see Cloverfield over the weekend, the jittery, intense (but blessedly short) horror film where an enormous terrifying monster invades and demolishes the bulk of Manhattan.  I don't think I'm giving anything away here when I tell you there's a lot of running in this movie. A lot of running. The six main characters are in a frenetic, bloody race for their lives, and do you know what two of the women are wearing? HEELS.  One has on wedge ankle boots so high they look like a torture device, and the other is wearing stiletto sandals. The whole movie, I kept thinking: "What are these crazy bitches doing?  Take off your shoes!" Anyway.  The entire experience made me realize I never want to be caught wearing something I can't sprint from a monster in ever again.  There are nearly 12,000 pairs of flats on eBay right now—from high-end Lanvin to totally affordable Gap—buy a pair you like now, put them in your bag, live free.

Like everyone I know on the East Coast who didn't think ahead and book some kind of fabulous Caribbean villa for January (at this point I'd honestly take a canvas tepee on a vagabond beach), I've been majorly housebound lately.  Which is making me view my apartment in a whole new (not necessarily flattering) light.  I keep walking around the rooms, staring and scrutinizing: "Why is that pile of crap there?" "Was 'Startling Orange' the best choice for the kitchen?" "Is my framed 1912 Harley Davidson poster still funny or just lame?" I suddenly need to change everything around, paint, and start new collections. For example, globes.  I saw this cool globe setup on Apartment Therapy a few weeks ago and have been thinking about it ever since. I want to copy the whole idea, gather about seven of them in different sizes, and cluster them on our extra-long midcentury dresser. This French 1930s piece has a Charles Lindbergh-old-school-aviation quality I love. I'd also like this Danish '80s version, which lights up and could serve as a glowing blue night-light. And, to add height differential, I'd pick this two-and-a-half-foot-tall globe-on-a-pedestal. Each item is from a different era, which provides an additional purpose for the bored or housebound: You can create your own "which country existed when" geography game.

Okay. This might sound crazy, but bear with me. For the past few weeks, there's been some sort of flu-plague bug flying around the office—and last night was my turn to get bit. Up all night with all the usual hellish NyQuil-commercial symptoms, I sought consolation in the Turner Classic Movies channel, which was, fortunately for me, playing some seriously great films. The last one I caught—from 4 AM to 6AM—was Mogambo, the sexy African-safari movie starring Clark Gable, Ava Gardner, and Grace Kelly in a tense love triangle (if you like any of these actors and have not seen it, you should rent Mogambo right now). Both women are gorgeous here, and I could not decide who I liked better (Gardner's character is named Honey Bear, which definitely nudged her ahead). They're also both glamorously, unrealistically costumed in slinky heels and elaborate tiny-waist dresses and crisp little tops with JODHPURS. Ava Gardner's slick jodhpurs-short-sleeved-button-down-loafers outfit is so amazing, I actually moved closer to the TV to get a better look.  So now I want these tight yet oddly baggy, slightly cropped beige pants like you can't imagine. If you dare, you can find them here and also here.

I have a conflicted relationship with horns. Along with images of Jesus (on the cross in 3-D sculpture, wearing a crown of thorns in a framed hologram, sitting at the table as part of a burgundy velvet Last Supper portrait, I am not kidding), the horn was one of the prevailing icons of my Italian-American childhood. My grandparents hung red plastic versions above their front doors and each of my cousins and uncles—even my dad, I think—wore curvy-with-a-tail gold styles on thick chains. Depending on whom you talk to, Italian horns symbolize good luck, protection against the "evil eye," or virility. To me, they've always seemed masculine, even macho, and maybe a little bit scary. But it's funny how impressions you've held for a lifetime can suddenly, unexpectedly change.

This morning in our cafeteria, I spotted the most beautiful girl wearing a silky, deep pink '70s dress, slouchy boots, and the prettiest horn necklace. It was slightly oversize and long, and just the perfect little finish to her outfit. I found one similar to hers here, but I also like the wild, fortune-teller feel of this clustered-charm necklace. And, if I really want to bring things full-circle and embrace my inner machismo, I'd choose this straight-up gold pendant from Alexis Bittar. It even comes with the requisite thick chain.

Yesterday, I received an e-mail from our senior fashion editor Laurie Trott, which said very simply, with no punctuation:
"im obsessed with chanel boucle jackets"
And then:
"like this one"

Laurie has that kind of chic, original, comes-naturally style that immediately makes you want all of the stuff she owns. When we talked more about the jackets, she explained that she loves how they're completely classic but somehow feel very right this second. I'd add that an item like this is really versatile and so super-elegant French lady it's ridiculous. I found about 25 on eBay today, including one in brown, navy, and cream-and-black.

They're not exactly cheap, but they're a grown-up investment piece, the kind of thing you'll wear till you're 80 and feel happy about every time you see it in your closet. Or, in the words of Coco Chanel herself: "Elegance is not the prerogative of those who have just escaped from adolescence, but of those who have already taken possession of their future."

Frustrated by the fact that nearly every skirt and pair of pants I own is crafted from denim, and sometimes, like yesterday, I actually need to look like a grown-ass woman who's not wearing jeans, I recently bought a pair of black trousers. I like them, though their simplicity and ubiquity somehow bum me out. But I have a solution: I'm going to wear these pants with some really fun, unique vintage shirts from eBay. This bold blue YSL button-down has the prettiest subtle polka-dot print; I might wear it with patent leather ankle boots and some kind of '80s, big gold earrings. I like the quiet floral pattern on this short-sleeved version—all it needs is a cardigan, belt, and maybe some burgundy or gray heels. To take things in a more frilly, feminine direction, this Victorian lace blouse from Gunne Sax is perfect (the brand also reminds me of every holiday dress I wore from ages three through way-too-old-for-this-kind-of-thing 11).

I don't usually carry my laptop to the office, but I have jury duty today (I know; it's both exciting and horrible). And I need to work during the breaks. After wrapping my computer in a scarf and placing it in a canvas tote, I realized it would be awesome to have a grown-up-looking, briefcase-esque bag for occasions like this (if nothing else, it would keep the security guys from laughing at me, which is what happened this morning). I love the simplicity of this vintage Coach version—it reminds me of something Sylvia Plath would've worn while biking through the streets of Cambridge. Or how about this (literally) jet-setterish one emblazoned with the Concorde logo? I also like how this Gucci style is completely timeless and cool.

Though I've heard nothing but ridiculously rave reviews, I've been resisting the lure of the "support lingerie" brand Spanx for years. I always felt wearing them would be surrendering and admitting to myself: "Oh, I guess the jig is up." The naturalist in me wanted to stick to my guns, lumps and all, and just let my body be what it is.  But then I had to go to a wedding last weekend. And I hadn't bought a new dress. And the one I had was a tad small and tight and made my mid-region look like a relief map of the Rockies. So I broke down and bought the Spanx slip. And I looked better. Much better. And I wasn't sad. Well, maybe just a little. You can get nearly 2,000 Spanx pieces on eBay today, all new, all miraculous, all at a really good price.   

I've been fixated on vintage tea towels for a while now. Each one is such a fun design time capsule, they're built to last, and they're one of those rare household items that you can find in flea markets all over the world. Plus they're obviously useful, so collecting them won't just, ahem, add to the household junk. There are currently hundreds of tea towels on eBay, so many that you'll really have to search through the cheese to find the gems.  Right now, I'm loving both of these '60s drink-themed styles. The bright Luther Travis version is printed with retro-cocktail recipes like Rob Roy and Gibson, and this black one by Tammi Keefe has the most adorable swirly wine bottle illustrations. Both feel funky and of-the-past glamorous, like something Goldie Hawn would've used when entertaining Walter Matthau in 1969's Cactus Flower.

We have what one might call an organization problem in my apartment: Opening cabinets is a daily things-spilling-on-your-head hazard, all of our drawers are crammed with the most random junk, and as my boyfriend says, I have more unopened mail than the dead. One of my ideas for rectifying this situation is to purchase an antique card catalog. I love their old-timeyness, the slightly weathered but clean-looking design, and the fact that they're nerdy in the best possible way. Sure, the drawers are small, but with so many, you could be really specific about what you put in each one (I imagine: ribbons, pens, scissors, lipstick, extra chargers, barrettes, tiny action figures, just for starters). Ebay has a handful of these pieces available today—both metal and wood, at varying price points. Of them, I'd love to buy this 60-compartment vertical version, which has the added bonus of being on wheels.

Sometimes, to keep things interesting (and for blogging inspiration), I'll type a random concept into eBay's main search and see what the site shoots back. Today I decided to look up "belly dance" and was rewarded with 5,482 mostly beautiful, intricately crafted, and unique coin-adorned bras, harem pants, and bright, silky scarves. But the real score came when I narrowed the search down to jewelry, specifically earrings. All of the pairs I stumbled upon were super-cheap (like under $10), dangly, exotic, and just really gorgeous—the kind of jewelry that makes even a tank and jeans look dressed up. I also imagine these with a simple white button-down or, even better, with red lipstick (or cat-eye black liner, your choice) and a tight little black dress.

The other morning—the one where it was 12 degrees outside but with wind chill felt like it was minus 47 or something—I happened to walk into the building at the same time as our online writer Laurel Pinson. While Laurel looked really pretty and red-nosed and chic in a dark brown shearling coat and cute hat, I was wearing what I like to call my "sleeping bag" jacket—a puffy, hooded, floor-length number that says, "Hey, world, I've given up." It made me start thinking about how maybe it's not just the cold that makes me feel ugly this time of year. Maybe it's the fact that I start putting in zero effort, style-wise, as soon as the Christmas lights go dark. So, new year, new better life: I'm buying a furry, fabulous, feminine coat and I'm buying one now. The current contenders include this '60s suede style, a glamorous off-white version with a shearling collar, and this belted black-and-white look. While I'm at it, I think I'll get a long-delayed pedicure and haircut too.

One of my dream make-my-apartment-glamorous projects for the new year is to buy an old piano bench, place it by our living room window, cover it with terra-cotta pots, and fill them with an array of tall, perfectly blooming orchids. This enterprise is a little intimidating to me (the fear being that I'll wind up with a bench full of sad little stumps or, worse still, an orchid graveyard), but I've heard that there are two types of orchids that are hard to kill. According to my rather rudimentary research, both the Phalaenopsis and the Paphiopedilum don't require much water or humidity, are supposed to flower easily, and stay in bloom for about two months (just long enough to get me through the worst part of winter). Ebay has an amazing range of orchids up for auction. However, with something as delicate as this, I'd be kind of choosy about sellers. Pick one with a lot of experience, and ask specific shipping questions (like, will you include a heat pack?) before bidding.

On one of those perfectly lazy afternoons over the holiday break, while trying to help my boyfriend find a past-season Trovata blazer on eBay (I was just sure it had to be there; it wasn't), I had the happiest discovery: This super-fun Trovata sundress, on sale for only $30. You know those pieces that you don't buy and then they haunt you for months? This was one of mine. I spotted it at a favorite neighborhood boutique last summer; I'd visited it a few times, tried it on, and marveled at all of its unique details but could never justify its rather steep price.  When I saw it (and quickly bid) on eBay, I felt like I was reconnecting with an old friend. The seller is also auctioning a bunch of cool designer tops and wide-leg trousers—all definitely worth checking out. ** UPDATE: Oh, man. First heartbreak of 2008: I lost the dress.

Let's face it: Shopping can be kind of dismal around this time of year. The holiday gift-giving season is over, it's too cold to wear anything fun, and, at least for me, I don't really want to buy anything in my current (and hopefully temporary) post-cookie-gorging size. The one thing I'm excited about right now is vintage lingerie, specifically slips—and eBay has a plethora of beautiful options. You can choose from black '40s chiffon, '30s peachy silk, or my favorite, this delicate mini-version, which is so pretty I almost can't stand it. All of these pieces are perfect for keeping skirts and dresses from getting staticky or sticking to your tights, and they're also a sexy pick-me-up during the January doldrums.