Thursday, September 30, 2010
Monday, September 27, 2010
Jil Sander does it again and again. Each time reinventing the color wheel in a way which makes me view colors I would never even consider wearing in a new and enchanting light. But that purple is solid. It was once the color of royalty. Season after season, you could wear that color and everyone would admire you or be extremely jealous of you. Both are okay.
(Photos: The Sartorialist)
Sunday, September 26, 2010
Despite my best attempts to never be sensible about style of dress, some of my friends are in fact extremely sensible. Laura Olin's Harem Pant Flow Chart makes total, utter and perfect sense. And yet, I refuse to stop stepping out of my house looking like MC Hammer. Sorry Olin, for all your sensible knowledge, some people just can't be saved!
Saturday, September 25, 2010
And every time you hear the bell chime in Daft Punk's Aerodynamic, that would be the sound of another hipster, earning a pair of wings (also known as their first pair of Ray Ban Wayfarers). Ladies and gentlemen of the court, in my defense, I am keeping up a very old Family tradition of dressing like my Dad. At a very young age, we had a lot of the same apparel (Osh Kosh overalls, Converse High Tops, Lands End down vests and many flannel shirts).
My sex was certainly not determined by my early childhood style of dress. We've since gotten a little bit more stylish and old habits, do die hard.
It'll be nice to go for a drive with the roof down while wearing our matching glasses.
Wednesday, September 22, 2010
Whenever I have to pick colors that I love together, red, white and black always end up somewhere in my thoughts. From Jenny Kang's peppy (not overly preppy) fashion week ensemble.
To the beautiful striped Chip Chop jacket (which I would absolutely purchase had I not already spent like a mad woman this week).
To the simplistic drawings of Hunter Reynolds. The old me, liked me okay, I suppose but when I have plenty of time to think and reflect (as I do now), I always find there's room for improvement.
(Images: from the links)
All About My Friends
And then there's the ballet dancer who lives in an old DC mansion, which she shares with five other girls (also ballet dancers). In the hallway of the dancer's abode, hangs a very old, very decadent kimono which once belonged to the home's original owner. While everything else changes around the house (dancers, furniture, pointe shoes to flat shoes), the kimono remains the same.
Dress - Clu
Shoes - Chanel
Speaking of shoes, I broke in these lovelies and they are my new favorites. Please be aware, the pigeon toed blogger stance is purely out of necessity. My size 10 feet can't fit on a stair plank vertically, you see.
Other things learned this weekend: how to do a beehive. (You can do it too, click the link). And with African American hair, you don't even need to a ton of hairspray. Loving my natural volume.
Tuesday, September 21, 2010
Once I figure out whatever it is that I'm going to do so well, that people will pay me lots of money to do it, I'm going to appease a very old desire of mine and run to Savile Row to have a bespoke suit made. That is . . . if it's still there.
I want a suit which will quietly and stealthily whisper to judging eyes, "yes, I fit very nice but you have no idea where this came from". But most important a suit which fits me and only me, to a "t". Especially my ahem, rounder areas (don't even look at me that way, the journalist they interviewed is sensitive about his bum, as well).
I am afflicted that this beautiful, piece of history . . . iconic tailoring and craftsmanship is being uprooted by real estate prices and places like (rolls eyes), Abercrombie and Fitch. (This documentary makes A&F look pretty graceless but it probably didn't take much ammunition). Is nothing sacred anymore?
As of now, I do not have a single suit in my possession. I consider it a most boring item to buy. Something you drag your feet on buying because they're always overpriced and they rarely fit well. The bespoke experience seems much more intimate, privy and enjoyable. Picture me as a kid in a candy store, looking at the mesmeric selection of wool and silk.
I do however own a slew of nicely made separates ("black" is your friend, my friends) which all play together nicely in the sandbox. Last week, I bought this Vanessa Bruno Athe cotton jacket from the Outnet. It's not bespoke . . . but it's cut well, and it will do as I wait patiently for that first million.
(Video: first seen on Rdujour and photo from the Outnet)
Monday, September 20, 2010
Whoever made this shoe should be punched in the face, with a sneaker.
I get very Joan Crawford about high heeled sneakers.
"I told you! No high heeled sneakers, ever!"
(Shoes from: Office, who usually gets it right but occasionally gets it wrong)
Sunday, September 19, 2010
Saturday, September 18, 2010
Have a happy weekend. It's getting chillier here every day so you best get out and enjoy the sunshine. Here are the two things which are currently making me smile. In high school, at the end of my tired and very uninspiring French classes, my teacher would allow us to sing a few songs. I hated French class with a passion (my grades reflected that much), but something about this hip swaggering melody always puts a smile on my face.
Second of all I love the cover of Elle. Elle has getting a lot of flack for it on other blogs but I'm going to come right out and say I love it. I love the green dress on Sidibe's skin. I love her cherubic smile and the roundness of her face. Can we all just calm down for a minute and celebrate this girl? You can't? Well pity for you, I will!
All of this makes me want a green dress, to wear while sauntering down the Champs Elysees. You see what I did there? Yeah, you liked it.
Wednesday, September 15, 2010
Tuesday, September 14, 2010
I know I don't need another bag.
You know I don't need another bag.
We know that I collectively have too many bags.
I'm just saaaaayin', this ones is pretty. That's all. So if you or maybe someone else you know needed a great bag, you would know where to find it. And then of course you could tell me all about it, so I could live vicariously through your purchase. Or if you were feeling generous and wanted to buy this bag for me, you could also do that well. Just sayin'.
And it's on sale . . . which makes it very very pretty.
(Available from: Mimiberry)
Monday, September 13, 2010
I am such a fan of Keren Richter's work. Not only is she a very talented illustrator/graphic designer, but the lady knows how to style a pretty backdrop. I keep coming back to this editorial she did earlier called "Mood Indigo". I love the different fabrics sprayed across the floor and the juxtaposition of the model laying across them. While everyone else was going ga-ga for those Mui Mui shoes early in the summer, they didn't really tug at my purse strings . . . until I saw them here.
Her blog's a fun read as well.
Photos: from here)
Rock on, James Perse. In that neutral, non disruptive way, you do so well.
Repetto ballet flats in cream? "Right up her alley, of course", you think. Yup, that's what I thought too. Until . . .
First things first, the bane of my shoe size 10/EU41/UK8 existence. The phase "runs small". Gaaaaah.
Second, the flats are made out of . . . canvas? I know they're Repetto but paying $250 for a pair of canvas ballet flats seems like license to kick one's own ass for money squandering.
And last but certainly not least, there's no size 10/41/UK8 for me to even worry about running small in. (Muttering under breath) "Sizest, pricey shoes . . . ".
Moving along. Keep calm, carry on.
(Photo: James Perse)
Saturday, September 11, 2010
Victoria Beckham seems to get my goat like no other. I think it's that look of mock surprise mock "oh I can't be bothered with you, paparazzi" that she always sports. As if she's bored to death, when in actuality her life seems pretty darn sweet (most of the time). When I'm not rolling my eyes at that poo face she always gives the cameras, occasionally I'm going "oooh girl, you are stylin'" and then I resume with eye rolling.
And now I have another brand to style stalk: Goat, which is sold at Matches.
(Photo: The Daily Mail)
Monday, September 6, 2010
Quiet indifference usually isn't my sort of scene. I'm this way or that way. I feel a certain way about something or I feel nothing at all. Though these days quiet indifference is something I deal with often. And it reminds me of these paintings by Erin Fannery. Being pulled in one direction or another and yet standing there with enough space between the two thoughts to see the line and division clearly. I love this artwork because it serves as a constant reminder that there are two sides to every story and always two ways you can go. You are never truly stuck. Which is how I've felt lately.
Sunday, September 5, 2010
Fashion's Night Out always strikes me as community service for models and designers. Not only do they have to pretend like they like us, but they have to hand out cheap trinkets with our purchases and smile graciously to get everyone amped up about spending hard earned dough. Nothing's more painful than watching someone who's ill equipped to deal with the general public, fumbling through a forced a conversation.
If I were in New York . . . I'd head straight to Opening Ceremony. They (with the help of Colette), have hands down the best FNO swag.
(Photos: Rdujour, a favorite of mine).
Saturday, September 4, 2010
The Particular Sadness of Skinny Jeans
Skinny jeans and I have never had a strong friendship. They certainly weren't my friend today. I have worn them, yes. But as a former fat girl (and occasional pudgy girl), I have always been a little suspicious of their motives. When I found my perfect pair at H&M years ago, I thought they were okay. I would never be able to scale a wall or pull crazy action moves in them . . . but who needs to do that sort of stuff? At $20, I didn't have to hesitate. (My jeans are either stupidly expensive and crazy cheap, never mid-range and I don't know why this is).
Numerous denim ankle stranglers later and wearing an offending mint green Uniqlo pair today, I found myself hopelessly locked out of my house. I could have gone to my parents and waited for my roommate to return from the vineyard she was visiting but I had important things to do.
I made up my mind. I was going to scale the wall to my back yard. Next I was going to hoist myself up on our garden shed. I would complete the move with climbing up to my balcony and letting myself in through my roommates window. Parkour be damned! This is the real deal. I executed the majority of this perfectly, thus shocking myself and celebrating too early with a "not too bad, old girl" mutter (high school gymnastics was good for something). Then came the final move. The balcony catapult.
I attempted to put my leg up. Halted. I tried again. It wasn't going to work. Apparently Uniqlo's denim is super strong and the odds of me hoisting my leg higher than a 45 degree angle were slim to none. Over and over again, I attempted to get a leg up on the ledge. Only to find each time that it wasn't going to happen. I sighed loudly. I was stuck on the roof of the garden shed with no way down. I was still locked out. There was no solution . . . but to take off my jeans. Looking both ways, I waited for various walkers and nature dwellers to pass my house (I live in a wooded area with many paths). When the coast was clear, I peeled the jeans off, threw them over my shoulder and climbed up the side of the house like it ain't no thing. I cursed myself for wearing attention grabbing striped underwear today. Once on the balcony, I scampered inside quickly and looked down at my pantless legs to laugh at myself. Did I really just climb up my balcony with no pants on?
And that concludes my buying of tight, skinny jeans. They're like a fire hazard . . . or something.
(Photo: Madewell, who has a variety of different types of denim, for those who won't buy skinny anymore).
Wednesday, September 1, 2010
This summer I'll be the first to admit I've been highly irritable. Often locking myself away in the comforts of my home to avoid dealing with people, the general public and the ominous "stuff". The guilt of my own moodiness eats away at me and forces to ponder what ills me so. And then I see artwork by Christian Chaize and I realize, it's this.
I miss this.
Almost as much as I miss companionship and affection.
Prints available here.