I mean, I did ruin my brown oxfords in the rain last year.
Image via
Showing posts with label Window Shopping. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Window Shopping. Show all posts
Wednesday, October 3, 2012
Break Time
After being immersed in clothes for next spring and summer, I needed to break out and remember that it's fall and that I need things to go with those new mustard skinny cords that I own. Maybe these Church's studded brogues would do.
Wednesday, November 30, 2011
Party Down
If there’s one word that makes me want to shop, it’s the word party. It can be preceded by any descriptor. There can be a paper invitation or an email or a “C U @ 8” text message. It can be on a roof deck. It can involve a beach bonfire. I could be crammed into a studio apartment. None of that matters. I sift through my closet beforehand and rarely find anything to satisfy me. Even if there is no dress code. Even if no one would blink if I showed up in a pair of ratty, skinny jeans, a striped, dolman-sleeved sweatshirt and a pair of beat up Bensimons.
When I was little, parties meant cupcake dresses. Green velvet, big skirts, and white sashes with a matching bow sitting atop my head. In college, I moved in the opposite direction. Halter tops and tube tops. Stretchy, suffocating fabrics. Bootcut jeans. Parties meant tighter and brighter. Can you find something that makes you look like a sequin that took a dip in a tub of glitter? Perfect! The discovery of the nearest Forever 21 was a revelation. It took far too long for me to realize a number of things. Firstly, a Forever 21 tube top lasts about three washes before it begins to disintegrate. Secondly, I rarely looked good in any of those things. And thirdly, having a wardrobe meant only for partying was a waste of space, money and time.
But the urge to hunt for something new when such occasions arise hasn't subsided, even though most of the parties that I go to now are of the "Everyone Bring Some Wine and Hang Out in My Apartment with Me" variety. On Monday, I wove my way up and down Newbury Street in search of something to wear to a party that I'm attending on Friday.
And just what was I hoping to find? Not cupcake dresses or halter tops. I'm far removed from both of those phases of my life. Feminine detailing. Ease. Pieces that can weave their way into my everyday wardrobe.
By Jason Wu
By Rag & Bone
By Tory Burch
And, for those occasions that call for it, something that I can dance in.
Images via, via, via
When I was little, parties meant cupcake dresses. Green velvet, big skirts, and white sashes with a matching bow sitting atop my head. In college, I moved in the opposite direction. Halter tops and tube tops. Stretchy, suffocating fabrics. Bootcut jeans. Parties meant tighter and brighter. Can you find something that makes you look like a sequin that took a dip in a tub of glitter? Perfect! The discovery of the nearest Forever 21 was a revelation. It took far too long for me to realize a number of things. Firstly, a Forever 21 tube top lasts about three washes before it begins to disintegrate. Secondly, I rarely looked good in any of those things. And thirdly, having a wardrobe meant only for partying was a waste of space, money and time.
But the urge to hunt for something new when such occasions arise hasn't subsided, even though most of the parties that I go to now are of the "Everyone Bring Some Wine and Hang Out in My Apartment with Me" variety. On Monday, I wove my way up and down Newbury Street in search of something to wear to a party that I'm attending on Friday.
And just what was I hoping to find? Not cupcake dresses or halter tops. I'm far removed from both of those phases of my life. Feminine detailing. Ease. Pieces that can weave their way into my everyday wardrobe.
By Jason Wu
By Rag & Bone
By Tory Burch
And, for those occasions that call for it, something that I can dance in.
Images via, via, via
Tuesday, March 15, 2011
Daylight Saving
Before diving into four weeks worth of fashion week pictures, I decided to take a break. I've been writing about non-fashion subjects. And reading books. And looking forward to spring.
Of course, all of this thinking of spring led me right back to the topic of clothes. We've seen the last of the cold, or the worst of it at any rate. I've stopped having to wear argyle knee highs to extend the life of my ballet flats. Tights are on the verge of being packed away. When I look out of window at 5:30 PM, the sun is still shining. Today while deep in the haze that I sometimes fall into when listening to my iPod, I stopped to touch a bud on a tree.
I am fully ready for the change of seasons.
So while planning three days in advance what I'm going to wear when it's near 60 degrees this weekend, I took to the internet for some browsing.
There was a lightweight, chambray blazer by Cartonnier's at Anthropologie.
And a Lili's Closet breezy top in what is once again becoming my favorite accent color.
Slim, ankle length jeans by Rag & Bone/JEAN.
Sweet, bow mary janes from Marais USA.
And a bright, frame bag by Cynthia Rowley.
None of the pieces that caught my eye epitomize spring, but I'm not one of those people who smells the first hint of warmth and jumps into shorts and espadrilles and floppy beach hats.
They simply reminded me that the time for sweaters and wool coats and flannels and equestrian style boots is coming to an end. And with that reminder came excitement.
Images via, via, via, via
Of course, all of this thinking of spring led me right back to the topic of clothes. We've seen the last of the cold, or the worst of it at any rate. I've stopped having to wear argyle knee highs to extend the life of my ballet flats. Tights are on the verge of being packed away. When I look out of window at 5:30 PM, the sun is still shining. Today while deep in the haze that I sometimes fall into when listening to my iPod, I stopped to touch a bud on a tree.
I am fully ready for the change of seasons.
So while planning three days in advance what I'm going to wear when it's near 60 degrees this weekend, I took to the internet for some browsing.
There was a lightweight, chambray blazer by Cartonnier's at Anthropologie.
And a Lili's Closet breezy top in what is once again becoming my favorite accent color.
Slim, ankle length jeans by Rag & Bone/JEAN.
Sweet, bow mary janes from Marais USA.
And a bright, frame bag by Cynthia Rowley.
None of the pieces that caught my eye epitomize spring, but I'm not one of those people who smells the first hint of warmth and jumps into shorts and espadrilles and floppy beach hats.
They simply reminded me that the time for sweaters and wool coats and flannels and equestrian style boots is coming to an end. And with that reminder came excitement.
Images via, via, via, via
Tuesday, May 18, 2010
Homecomings Revisited
After I finished writing about my evolving relationship with color, one passage in particular stuck out to me.
But during the past year, I've begun to change. Slowly and with much deliberation but change nonetheless.
Moving back to Boston almost one year ago has affected how I dress more than any other event in my life. From the beginning, I was steely in my determination not to change back into the girl I had been before. I wanted to continue on the path to adulthood that graduating from college and starting my first real job and moving to a new city had forced me on to. To most clothing would have little to do with such growth, and, to those people, this probably sounds silly. We’re just talking about dresses and shirts and skirts and shoes here. They can’t mean all that much. But for me they are an outward manifestation of all that has changed internally. Injecting color. Shortening hems. These were all ways to stop myself from retreating back into the cozy shell that had at once been so comforting and stifling.
As recently as a few months ago, I thought of most of the clothes I come across in stores, in magazines, and on the various blogs that I peruse daily as items for later. Or for fantasies. I was always too much of one thing or not enough of something else to pull them off. There was no room for them in my life or my closet. They were for those bold others.
In more ways than one, I’ve tired of not being one of those bold others. And though New York changed me somewhat in that respect, I became lazy in a way. My style followed suit. I grew to a certain point and then stopped because further growth wasn’t necessary. Because I was an adult. Living on my own. Staying out as late as I liked. Choosing what to do with my time.
Part of the package when one has to move back to that place one once called home is, in some ways, being forced back into the role of child. But nothing will cause you to become more of an adult than fighting against that as hard as you can.
Last week, on one of my window shopping adventures, I tried on the black and non-sequined version of this 3.1 Phillip Lim dress while in Barneys.
When I glanced at myself in the mirror, I didn’t, as I had done in the past, shy away from the woman looking back at me.
I was, and am, done with that.
Photo via
But during the past year, I've begun to change. Slowly and with much deliberation but change nonetheless.
Moving back to Boston almost one year ago has affected how I dress more than any other event in my life. From the beginning, I was steely in my determination not to change back into the girl I had been before. I wanted to continue on the path to adulthood that graduating from college and starting my first real job and moving to a new city had forced me on to. To most clothing would have little to do with such growth, and, to those people, this probably sounds silly. We’re just talking about dresses and shirts and skirts and shoes here. They can’t mean all that much. But for me they are an outward manifestation of all that has changed internally. Injecting color. Shortening hems. These were all ways to stop myself from retreating back into the cozy shell that had at once been so comforting and stifling.
As recently as a few months ago, I thought of most of the clothes I come across in stores, in magazines, and on the various blogs that I peruse daily as items for later. Or for fantasies. I was always too much of one thing or not enough of something else to pull them off. There was no room for them in my life or my closet. They were for those bold others.
In more ways than one, I’ve tired of not being one of those bold others. And though New York changed me somewhat in that respect, I became lazy in a way. My style followed suit. I grew to a certain point and then stopped because further growth wasn’t necessary. Because I was an adult. Living on my own. Staying out as late as I liked. Choosing what to do with my time.
Part of the package when one has to move back to that place one once called home is, in some ways, being forced back into the role of child. But nothing will cause you to become more of an adult than fighting against that as hard as you can.
Last week, on one of my window shopping adventures, I tried on the black and non-sequined version of this 3.1 Phillip Lim dress while in Barneys.
When I glanced at myself in the mirror, I didn’t, as I had done in the past, shy away from the woman looking back at me.
I was, and am, done with that.
Photo via
Friday, October 23, 2009
Holiday Seasons
Everyone has a holiday. For some it's the barbecues and beaches of the 4th of July that appeal to them. For others it's the the turkey and trimmings of Thanksgiving.
And for many the playful spectacle of Halloween is more their speed. I could personally live without it. I love the candy corn but not the holiday itself. I'm always uninspired in the costume department. I found a set of pink wings here last week from my senior year of college when I went, rather uninterestingly, as a fairy. Last year, not caring until the very last minute, I bought a two dollar devil set, threw on a very, very small black dress and layered my red tights beneath my fishnets. I could not have cared less.
New Year's Eve is my holiday.
When I was seven, or maybe eight, my mother took me to a Boston Pops performance to celebrate the changing of the calendar. She made me a fantasy dress. It was gold, and I was in love with it and its twirly skirt. At midnight, we made our way down from the balcony to where they had cleared the tables away so everyone could spend the first part of that new year dancing to the sounds of the orchestra. I gazed at all of the adults in their pretty dresses and pretty tuxes and swayed gently from side to side to the music.
For the past three years, looking for a New Year's Eve dress, either in stores or in the depths of my closet, has been one of my favorite endeavors. To ring in 2007, I wore a pink BCBG. Oh, and a tiara. In 2008, it was a silver dress from H&M and a mask. For 2009, it was black from Old Navy and a set of 2009 glasses.
And for 2010, I want the dress that stopped me in my tracks in the midst of a casual stroll through Barneys yesterday.
And maybe a sparkly top hat.
Photo via
And for many the playful spectacle of Halloween is more their speed. I could personally live without it. I love the candy corn but not the holiday itself. I'm always uninspired in the costume department. I found a set of pink wings here last week from my senior year of college when I went, rather uninterestingly, as a fairy. Last year, not caring until the very last minute, I bought a two dollar devil set, threw on a very, very small black dress and layered my red tights beneath my fishnets. I could not have cared less.
New Year's Eve is my holiday.
When I was seven, or maybe eight, my mother took me to a Boston Pops performance to celebrate the changing of the calendar. She made me a fantasy dress. It was gold, and I was in love with it and its twirly skirt. At midnight, we made our way down from the balcony to where they had cleared the tables away so everyone could spend the first part of that new year dancing to the sounds of the orchestra. I gazed at all of the adults in their pretty dresses and pretty tuxes and swayed gently from side to side to the music.
For the past three years, looking for a New Year's Eve dress, either in stores or in the depths of my closet, has been one of my favorite endeavors. To ring in 2007, I wore a pink BCBG. Oh, and a tiara. In 2008, it was a silver dress from H&M and a mask. For 2009, it was black from Old Navy and a set of 2009 glasses.
And for 2010, I want the dress that stopped me in my tracks in the midst of a casual stroll through Barneys yesterday.
And maybe a sparkly top hat.
Photo via
Monday, September 21, 2009
Interiors
When I go to stores, I like to be left alone to wander and make decisions for myself. I am not an amateur shopper. If I need something, I ask. But otherwise I don't like to be bothered. I think it’s why I gravitate towards large stores. It’s easy for you to get lost among the others. I was especially fond of this fact during the holiday season in New York. Yes, the tourists didn’t know how to use the subway or how to walk less than four across on the sidewalk, but they did provide the perfect cover for my far too frequents visits to lust over a pair of Louboutins that resided on the Saks Fifth Avenue shoe floor in the winter of 2007.
On the way to and from the coffee shop that I've taken up residence in since moving home to Boston, I often pass a little boutique called Looc. I was intrigued by what was on display in the windows, but it wasn't until one afternoon, the sun finally out after a month of hiding from us, that I stepped inside. It was like I had taken a deep gulp of sea air. The inside, all white, reminded me of a small house on the Cape and a sailboat simultaneously. I walked around, taking a moment with the embellished headbands and the Bensimon Collection slip-ons. Softly gliding through the Lerario Beatriz. The Steven Alan. The T by Alexander Wang. On the shelves, next to shoes and bags by Tila March, lay small tokens that one might find in a house stuck in the recent past. An empty bottle of Chanel Nº5. A yellowing copy of Jacqueline Kennedy, A Woman for the World. I wanted to spend an afternoon there with a book. And maybe return later for a headband.
In the end, everything is a trade off. In the larger stores, there is the anonymity that I love.
But I would also never find an old bike sitting by one of the front windows, dried flowers ornamenting the handlebars as if someone had meant to only leave it sitting for a small while before forgetting to come and retrieve it.
On the way to and from the coffee shop that I've taken up residence in since moving home to Boston, I often pass a little boutique called Looc. I was intrigued by what was on display in the windows, but it wasn't until one afternoon, the sun finally out after a month of hiding from us, that I stepped inside. It was like I had taken a deep gulp of sea air. The inside, all white, reminded me of a small house on the Cape and a sailboat simultaneously. I walked around, taking a moment with the embellished headbands and the Bensimon Collection slip-ons. Softly gliding through the Lerario Beatriz. The Steven Alan. The T by Alexander Wang. On the shelves, next to shoes and bags by Tila March, lay small tokens that one might find in a house stuck in the recent past. An empty bottle of Chanel Nº5. A yellowing copy of Jacqueline Kennedy, A Woman for the World. I wanted to spend an afternoon there with a book. And maybe return later for a headband.
In the end, everything is a trade off. In the larger stores, there is the anonymity that I love.
But I would also never find an old bike sitting by one of the front windows, dried flowers ornamenting the handlebars as if someone had meant to only leave it sitting for a small while before forgetting to come and retrieve it.
Wednesday, September 16, 2009
Shivers
I was cold this morning when I woke up. Cold! I had stupidly left my windows wide open forgetting that the temperature was supposed to drop considerably today. So there I was shivering under my comforter and finding myself both happy and sad about the emergence of sweater season.
Though I have built up my spring and summer wardrobes considerably over the past few years, I have been negligent on the fall and winter side. Especially the winter side. For most of my life, I had a borderline obsession with sweaters. And because of that fact, I've recently been focusing on the lighter pieces that were missing from my wardrobe. As a result I'm back living in Boston, where winter is colder and longer than New York, with a neglected sweater collection.
While living in New York, I got into the habit of layering my pieces. Putting tights on under my dresses and skirts. Buying lighter, thinner sweaters. I made it through three winters there with only once putting my feet into my snow boots. That will not be the case this year. And along with having to dig up those boots from wherever they're hidden, I'm going to need actual sweaters again.
A few I can afford:
The Gap
J.Crew
Converse One Star
Ballerina
And one I definitely can't:
Helmut Lang
Photos via, via, via, via, via
Though I have built up my spring and summer wardrobes considerably over the past few years, I have been negligent on the fall and winter side. Especially the winter side. For most of my life, I had a borderline obsession with sweaters. And because of that fact, I've recently been focusing on the lighter pieces that were missing from my wardrobe. As a result I'm back living in Boston, where winter is colder and longer than New York, with a neglected sweater collection.
While living in New York, I got into the habit of layering my pieces. Putting tights on under my dresses and skirts. Buying lighter, thinner sweaters. I made it through three winters there with only once putting my feet into my snow boots. That will not be the case this year. And along with having to dig up those boots from wherever they're hidden, I'm going to need actual sweaters again.
A few I can afford:
The Gap
J.Crew
Converse One Star
Ballerina
And one I definitely can't:
Helmut Lang
Photos via, via, via, via, via
Sunday, September 6, 2009
Wednesday, September 2, 2009
The Gloved One
My love for specific accessories comes in waves. There have been high points for earrings, rings, scarves, necklaces, bracelets and headbands. The items are worn almost every day at first before settling into a normal pattern of use. And now that I can feel the chill of Autumn on the breeze, my focus has shifted yet again.
My mild obsession with gloves is well documented here. The pairs I long for now aren't as mesmerizing as the ones I had in elementary school with the pictures that changed color when hit with the cold, but I find myself equally drawn to them.
Yesterday while on a trip through a local store with a friend, I found drawers and drawers of pretty vintage pairs. Button detailing. Leather made soft by use and decades of existence. I pulled on set after set. The ends of many just reached my elbows. I tried to imagine the types of women who had worn these confections. How did they keep a pair of white gloves with lace detailing so clean? Not even the yellowing of age had infringed on their purity.
The last pair I tried on was beige with thin strips of brown suede that ran along the lines from knuckle to wrist. A small button snapped at the wrist on the palm side to insure against loss. (Much like every other accessory, I have lost many a glove in my time.) I contemplated them for a very long time. What would I wear them with? The color wouldn't go with any of my winter coats. And I would constantly be afraid of losing them. I softly placed them back in their drawer.
Unlike earrings, rings, scarves, necklaces, bracelets and headbands, I don't know if there's a place in my life for gloves like those.
My mild obsession with gloves is well documented here. The pairs I long for now aren't as mesmerizing as the ones I had in elementary school with the pictures that changed color when hit with the cold, but I find myself equally drawn to them.
Yesterday while on a trip through a local store with a friend, I found drawers and drawers of pretty vintage pairs. Button detailing. Leather made soft by use and decades of existence. I pulled on set after set. The ends of many just reached my elbows. I tried to imagine the types of women who had worn these confections. How did they keep a pair of white gloves with lace detailing so clean? Not even the yellowing of age had infringed on their purity.
The last pair I tried on was beige with thin strips of brown suede that ran along the lines from knuckle to wrist. A small button snapped at the wrist on the palm side to insure against loss. (Much like every other accessory, I have lost many a glove in my time.) I contemplated them for a very long time. What would I wear them with? The color wouldn't go with any of my winter coats. And I would constantly be afraid of losing them. I softly placed them back in their drawer.
Unlike earrings, rings, scarves, necklaces, bracelets and headbands, I don't know if there's a place in my life for gloves like those.
Thursday, August 20, 2009
Monday, August 17, 2009
Pick Your Poison
It all started with these.
As the fashion editorials began to set their sights on fall, I noticed oxfords popping up everywhere. I placed this observation somewhere in the back of my brain as I do all things that are somewhat important but not necessarily relevant to my life at that moment. Until, that is, while doing a bit of online window shopping, I stumbled across this vintage Yves Saint Laurent pair. Maybe it was the fact that they seemed almost new. Or the soft pony hair. Or the jaunty way the model posed with them on, but I fell in love before I realized that they were not in my size. And that I can't afford them at the moment. (Maybe that should have been the first thought?)
I've been following my rule about staying aware of trends but not becoming a slave to them, but once a season, something enthralls me. This fall it is the oxford shoe. Oxfords have, of course, been around for a rather long time. I almost definitely had a pair that I wore with my little plaid uniform at Catholic school when I wasn't in penny loafers or mary janes. But as when any item from the past reenters the public consciousness, the shoe has been reimagined. People take the original and play with it. Twist it into something new. A piece that recalls the past but also speaks of the present. And because of that fact, there are enough iterations to satisfy everyone.
Classics:
J.Crew
NDC
Pedro Garcia
Spectator Style:
Candela NYC
F-Troupe
Christian Louboutin
Contributor by Rachel Comey
Rag & Bone
Metallics:
ModCloth
Repetto
Christian Louboutin
Brights:
Pour La Victoire
D.CO Copenhagen
Esquivel
minimarket
And Wang:
For me, it will probably end with these.
Photos via, via, via, via, via, via, via, via, via, via, via
As the fashion editorials began to set their sights on fall, I noticed oxfords popping up everywhere. I placed this observation somewhere in the back of my brain as I do all things that are somewhat important but not necessarily relevant to my life at that moment. Until, that is, while doing a bit of online window shopping, I stumbled across this vintage Yves Saint Laurent pair. Maybe it was the fact that they seemed almost new. Or the soft pony hair. Or the jaunty way the model posed with them on, but I fell in love before I realized that they were not in my size. And that I can't afford them at the moment. (Maybe that should have been the first thought?)
I've been following my rule about staying aware of trends but not becoming a slave to them, but once a season, something enthralls me. This fall it is the oxford shoe. Oxfords have, of course, been around for a rather long time. I almost definitely had a pair that I wore with my little plaid uniform at Catholic school when I wasn't in penny loafers or mary janes. But as when any item from the past reenters the public consciousness, the shoe has been reimagined. People take the original and play with it. Twist it into something new. A piece that recalls the past but also speaks of the present. And because of that fact, there are enough iterations to satisfy everyone.
Classics:
J.Crew
NDC
Pedro Garcia
Spectator Style:
Candela NYC
F-Troupe
Christian Louboutin
Contributor by Rachel Comey
Rag & Bone
Metallics:
ModCloth
Repetto
Christian Louboutin
Brights:
Pour La Victoire
D.CO Copenhagen
Esquivel
minimarket
And Wang:
For me, it will probably end with these.
Photos via, via, via, via, via, via, via, via, via, via, via
Friday, August 14, 2009
Wednesday, July 22, 2009
Gray Skies
It's been cold and rainy again for the past few days. And instead of going stir crazy, my mind has turned to fall.
At times, I surprise myself with my flightiness. It feels like only last week I was thinking of balmy vacations.
A real post with words is forthcoming.
Photo via
At times, I surprise myself with my flightiness. It feels like only last week I was thinking of balmy vacations.
A real post with words is forthcoming.
Photo via
Thursday, July 16, 2009
Thursday, May 28, 2009
Come Sail Away
Last summer, I went on the hunt for a dress for a wedding I had to attend. It took forever. Mostly because I was looking for a dress to become The Wedding Dress™. Something I could pull out for the next few years and wear whenever someone was getting hitched. I chose a summery yellow because, let's be honest, most people get married in the late spring, the summer or the early fall. The shape could accommodate weight fluctuations. It fell right above the knee. You could easily throw a cardigan over it for chillier events. It fit all of my criteria.
This, of course, didn't stop me from thinking about what I might want to wear to this wedding if I could have a new dress.
Yes, I know those are sailboats. Yes, I realize that it's basically a sack, and, therefore, I should want none of it. But every time I've gone on one of my luxury department store jaunts recently, I've picked up this dress. And longed for it. Deeply.
Photo via
This, of course, didn't stop me from thinking about what I might want to wear to this wedding if I could have a new dress.
Yes, I know those are sailboats. Yes, I realize that it's basically a sack, and, therefore, I should want none of it. But every time I've gone on one of my luxury department store jaunts recently, I've picked up this dress. And longed for it. Deeply.
Photo via
Sunday, May 3, 2009
Birthday Wishes
Last year I spent the first part of my birthday celebrations in a short gray dress that I wore with black tights. I spent the entire evening pulling at my hem. And though I looked pretty, I wasn't exactly comfortable. Obviously there are times when comfort should be eschewed. A special occasion, like turning 25, is one of those times. But for 26 I've decided all I want is the simplicity of what already sits in my closet.
If this were a different time with different circumstances, I would look outside of my own closet, but the simplicity would remain.
I rarely wear things with high necks. Scoops and Vs are all I own. High necks plus a sizable chest can often lead to unfortunate lumpiness, so I tend to avoid the combination. This top floats in a gentle way. And the flowers add just the right amount of detail.
Now that the weather had turned around, I like to spend my time wandering through different parts of Brooklyn. Usually these wanderings end with me in some boutique or another trying on things I'm not going to purchase. But then I ran into these jeans during a jaunt through Beacon's Closet. There they were. Slim and perfect and $20. Too bad the fact that they were one waist size too small made the act of sitting impossible. And no matter what my best friend says, I can't imagine owning a pair of pants only meant for standing.
I discovered these pumps when doing an assignment for a job I was applying for. And though I'm pretty sure at this point that I'm not getting it, I'm happy that it led me to these.
This is how I want to spend my birthday. Without the tugging and the pulling and the worries.
And maybe with this cake.
Photos via, via, via, via
If this were a different time with different circumstances, I would look outside of my own closet, but the simplicity would remain.
I rarely wear things with high necks. Scoops and Vs are all I own. High necks plus a sizable chest can often lead to unfortunate lumpiness, so I tend to avoid the combination. This top floats in a gentle way. And the flowers add just the right amount of detail.
Now that the weather had turned around, I like to spend my time wandering through different parts of Brooklyn. Usually these wanderings end with me in some boutique or another trying on things I'm not going to purchase. But then I ran into these jeans during a jaunt through Beacon's Closet. There they were. Slim and perfect and $20. Too bad the fact that they were one waist size too small made the act of sitting impossible. And no matter what my best friend says, I can't imagine owning a pair of pants only meant for standing.
I discovered these pumps when doing an assignment for a job I was applying for. And though I'm pretty sure at this point that I'm not getting it, I'm happy that it led me to these.
This is how I want to spend my birthday. Without the tugging and the pulling and the worries.
And maybe with this cake.
Photos via, via, via, via
Monday, March 23, 2009
Spring Forward
Because the change of seasons is always a good time to add new pieces to your wardrobe and the sales continue unabated, I bring you, without much comment and in no particular order, Things I Want for Spring And Could Maybe, Kinda Afford If I Had a Job Right Now.
Dresses
One:
Two:
Three:
Four:
Bottoms
One:
Two:
Three:
Tops
One:
Two:
Three:
Sweaters
One:
Two:
Three:
Shoes/Bags
One:
Two:
Three:
Four:
Five:
Paris is next. I cross my heart.
Photos via, via, via, via, via, via
Dresses
One:
Two:
Three:
Four:
Bottoms
One:
Two:
Three:
Tops
One:
Two:
Three:
Sweaters
One:
Two:
Three:
Shoes/Bags
One:
Two:
Three:
Four:
Five:
Paris is next. I cross my heart.
Photos via, via, via, via, via, via
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