This is not a Favorite Pieces post.
I don't get bored with things easily. In fact, if I really love something, I wear it as often as I can and end up mourning its eventual demise.
But as with all things in life, the usual is not the always.
On Sunday, when I went to grab my wallet out of my bag to pay for a new pair of skinny jeans at Second Time Around, I took a real look at it for the first time in months.
I bought my current wallet during my first trip to Century 21 in the fall of 2005. My wallet at the time was falling to pieces, and I needed something to replace it. I was still in the early stages of my fashion education and chose the simplest one available. Its one exciting feature was its blood red color, and for me, at that time, that was enough. I quickly became bored with it but never enough to replace it. It still performed its function and was only taken out of my bag when there was money to be exchanged. So what if it was fraying at the seams now? Or that the leather had lost all of its previously held structure? The few minutes that people glimpsed it weren't all that important.
But Sunday afternoon, I placed it on the glass case that the register stood on as I waited for my debit card to be approved and looked at the set of shelves behind the girl handling my sale. All of the most expensive items lived there, held for safekeeping. The designer shoes and designer bags. And a few designer wallets. And though I didn't want those, I realized that I did want something new. Needed something new. The Wallet didn't fit into my life anymore. It was time for it to be replaced.
It is the last discernible remnant of a Samantha that no longer exists. One for whom good enough was acceptable when making a purchase. Now, no matter whether it's a $4 bracelet from H&M or a pair of Joe's Jeans, good enough is never good enough.
And so the search begins for a replacement.
Monday, July 6, 2009
Friday, July 3, 2009
Blowing Bubbles
Have been burying myself in Resort 2010 pictures in preparation for a mega post and have decided that I must own the entire Stella McCartney presentation. Even the balloons.
I could honestly live in Stella McCartney and nothing else for the rest of my life.
I'll have something more coherent later. I promise.
Photos via
I could honestly live in Stella McCartney and nothing else for the rest of my life.
I'll have something more coherent later. I promise.
Photos via
Wednesday, July 1, 2009
Site Seeing
Near the end of my internship, one of my co-workers asked if I wanted to join her to take a look at a brand called Jolibe. I was always a fan of these field trips and was quick to reply in the affirmative. Carefully navigating the slush littering the sidewalks, we traveled south and east before arriving at our destination.
The elevator of the building opened directly into a small studio. I loved the way that so much creativity could be contained in such a small space. It's one of those things that I loved about New York. A few racks of clothing stood at the end nearest the windows. Further into the room sat a computer and sewing machines. After introductions were made, my co-worker began discussing the clothes with the designer and his business partner.
I loved these trips for many reasons. Getting to view up close the creations of designers I had barely heard of. Catching a peek of a small photo shoot for the pages of Vogue. Recognizing pieces previously worn by stars. Imagining which pieces I would buy for myself if that ever became possible. But the best part was hearing the designers talk about what inspired them. Their vision. What led them to make that dress. Or this necklace.
I often find myself in awe of those who naturally possess the ability to create. Beyond sitting at my Casio keyboard at the age of 11 and composing little ditties when I should have been practicing my violin or doing my French homework, my creativity rarely stretched beyond the problem solving skills needed for math tests and lab experiments. My writing has always been at its best when observational. Weaving tales is not my forte.
So I would listen and try to understand. The understanding never fully came. I couldn't twist my mind in that way.
But the appreciation was always amplified.
The elevator of the building opened directly into a small studio. I loved the way that so much creativity could be contained in such a small space. It's one of those things that I loved about New York. A few racks of clothing stood at the end nearest the windows. Further into the room sat a computer and sewing machines. After introductions were made, my co-worker began discussing the clothes with the designer and his business partner.
I loved these trips for many reasons. Getting to view up close the creations of designers I had barely heard of. Catching a peek of a small photo shoot for the pages of Vogue. Recognizing pieces previously worn by stars. Imagining which pieces I would buy for myself if that ever became possible. But the best part was hearing the designers talk about what inspired them. Their vision. What led them to make that dress. Or this necklace.
I often find myself in awe of those who naturally possess the ability to create. Beyond sitting at my Casio keyboard at the age of 11 and composing little ditties when I should have been practicing my violin or doing my French homework, my creativity rarely stretched beyond the problem solving skills needed for math tests and lab experiments. My writing has always been at its best when observational. Weaving tales is not my forte.
So I would listen and try to understand. The understanding never fully came. I couldn't twist my mind in that way.
But the appreciation was always amplified.
Wednesday, June 24, 2009
Homecomings
When I haven't seen someone in a long time, the first thing I notice is how much, or how little, they've changed.
I moved back to Boston over three weeks ago to weather the employment and economic storm for a time without the burden of rent and bills. It was a necessary move and not one that I was at all happy about. I had my little life in Brooklyn. Small routines and local hangouts. I hadn't spent more than a weekend in Boston in over two years. After enjoying the comforts that came with spending some time in the city of my birth, I would begin itching to get back home. Because that was what New York had become.
Interestingly enough, one of the most jarring things for me to deal with has been the conservative manner of dress that pervades this city. The changes that I had undergone weren't obvious until a few days after my return. Before the rains descended upon us, I pulled out The Dress, placed my laptop in a bright green bag and walked to the nearest coffee shop with my laptop. After being shocked, shocked, that not every café here has wireless available, I decided to head back to the house. It was on that return trip that I took my first real look at those around me. There I was, swathed in color and looking out of place. I wasn't used to it. On an afternoon later that week, three different people in one short trip to Whole Foods stared at me before approaching and asking about the long, maroon cardigan I had simply thrown on to keep out the unseasonable chill. In New York, I rarely stuck out. I blended in with the blur of people wearing all manner of outfit, from the gray suit to the acid washed skinny jean to the patterned maxi dress. My wardrobe had its shining moments, but for the most part, people's eyes slid right by me. I liked it that way. Here, however, I was decidedly other.
I've spent large chunks of my life being decidedly other. It's always made me mildly uncomfortable. My clothes, however, had never been the cause. I wasn't sure how to handle it. After the rains came, I began to feel restless. I was rather tempted to do something drastic. Rip holes in my tights. Splash bleach all over The Jeans before turning them into shorts. I was fearful that I would begin to fade away and fall back on bad habits to deal with my discomfort.
I took a breath. Or several. I realized that the constant dreariness was affecting me. That a break here didn't mean that I would backslide into the person I once was. That once the sun finally broke, I could remove the dresses from their hiding place. Shake them out. Put them on. And that people might look, but that is not necessarily a bad thing.
That, in this case, sticking out isn't something that should bother me.
I moved back to Boston over three weeks ago to weather the employment and economic storm for a time without the burden of rent and bills. It was a necessary move and not one that I was at all happy about. I had my little life in Brooklyn. Small routines and local hangouts. I hadn't spent more than a weekend in Boston in over two years. After enjoying the comforts that came with spending some time in the city of my birth, I would begin itching to get back home. Because that was what New York had become.
Interestingly enough, one of the most jarring things for me to deal with has been the conservative manner of dress that pervades this city. The changes that I had undergone weren't obvious until a few days after my return. Before the rains descended upon us, I pulled out The Dress, placed my laptop in a bright green bag and walked to the nearest coffee shop with my laptop. After being shocked, shocked, that not every café here has wireless available, I decided to head back to the house. It was on that return trip that I took my first real look at those around me. There I was, swathed in color and looking out of place. I wasn't used to it. On an afternoon later that week, three different people in one short trip to Whole Foods stared at me before approaching and asking about the long, maroon cardigan I had simply thrown on to keep out the unseasonable chill. In New York, I rarely stuck out. I blended in with the blur of people wearing all manner of outfit, from the gray suit to the acid washed skinny jean to the patterned maxi dress. My wardrobe had its shining moments, but for the most part, people's eyes slid right by me. I liked it that way. Here, however, I was decidedly other.
I've spent large chunks of my life being decidedly other. It's always made me mildly uncomfortable. My clothes, however, had never been the cause. I wasn't sure how to handle it. After the rains came, I began to feel restless. I was rather tempted to do something drastic. Rip holes in my tights. Splash bleach all over The Jeans before turning them into shorts. I was fearful that I would begin to fade away and fall back on bad habits to deal with my discomfort.
I took a breath. Or several. I realized that the constant dreariness was affecting me. That a break here didn't mean that I would backslide into the person I once was. That once the sun finally broke, I could remove the dresses from their hiding place. Shake them out. Put them on. And that people might look, but that is not necessarily a bad thing.
That, in this case, sticking out isn't something that should bother me.
Thursday, June 18, 2009
Come Again Another Day
It feels like it's been raining forever.
One of my friend's looked at me this weekend and said I don't know how to say this, but that's a Fall bag.
I smiled and told her that I knew before explaining that I didn't feel like switching everything I own from one bag to another and so had brought the brown, suede Coach shoulder bag along on my trip. This was partly true. I left out that it's felt like Fall. Or at least that nasty part of late Winter/early Spring when the rain is cold and you shiver all the way down to the bone. And for this reason, I keep reaching for the bag.
Considering the style mood I've been in lately, the weather is not helping my recent bout of wanderlust. Nothing makes you want to fly off somewhere with sunshine and beaches like rain in mid-June. Since my move back to Boston over two weeks ago, my dresses have stayed packed away in a suitcase. I look at them everyday, sadly folded and waiting for the sun to return. I could unpack them. Air them out and place them on hangers. But that would just be teasing them. And myself.
I spent most of March and April waiting for the rain to stop. Reminding myself that March comes in like a lion and goes out like a lamb. That April showers bring May flowers. And then I spent the week of my birthday waiting for the rain to disappear. Hoping that my newly straightened hair wouldn't be ruined. That I wouldn't have to dig up some pair of rain proof shoes to wear in place of my bejeweled golden flats. The rain finally fled the day before my celebration. But it didn't stay away for long.
And it doesn't seem to plan on going away anytime soon.
One of my friend's looked at me this weekend and said I don't know how to say this, but that's a Fall bag.
I smiled and told her that I knew before explaining that I didn't feel like switching everything I own from one bag to another and so had brought the brown, suede Coach shoulder bag along on my trip. This was partly true. I left out that it's felt like Fall. Or at least that nasty part of late Winter/early Spring when the rain is cold and you shiver all the way down to the bone. And for this reason, I keep reaching for the bag.
Considering the style mood I've been in lately, the weather is not helping my recent bout of wanderlust. Nothing makes you want to fly off somewhere with sunshine and beaches like rain in mid-June. Since my move back to Boston over two weeks ago, my dresses have stayed packed away in a suitcase. I look at them everyday, sadly folded and waiting for the sun to return. I could unpack them. Air them out and place them on hangers. But that would just be teasing them. And myself.
I spent most of March and April waiting for the rain to stop. Reminding myself that March comes in like a lion and goes out like a lamb. That April showers bring May flowers. And then I spent the week of my birthday waiting for the rain to disappear. Hoping that my newly straightened hair wouldn't be ruined. That I wouldn't have to dig up some pair of rain proof shoes to wear in place of my bejeweled golden flats. The rain finally fled the day before my celebration. But it didn't stay away for long.
And it doesn't seem to plan on going away anytime soon.
Monday, June 8, 2009
Vacation Days
I spent part of this weekend dipping into impossibly cold water, soaking in the sun and swinging in a hammock while writing in my journal. And it was perfection. I've recently been fighting the urge to flit off somewhere. It's monetarily impossible at the moment and I'm not really a risk taker, but whenever the thought crosses my mind these days, my chest fills with excitement and fear. The presentation of the resort collections only compounds these feelings. All I want right now is the freedom of the beach and a boat and all of the beautiful clothes that such a life would entail.
Today, unable to focus on the task at hand, I found myself browsing online for those types of clothes. Easy pieces that one can just throw on. Items meant for lounging. Sweet dresses and cute espadrilles and simple denim. This has been a theme with me recently, as should be obvious if you've read my past few posts. But today I took it a bit further. Instead of a piece here and a piece there, I constructed a whole vacation wardrobe. And yes, sometimes one needs a vacation from the drudgery and frustration and heartache of being unemployed for a long stretch of time.
A fantasy warm weather vacation can't exist without a bit of Pucci. Or a caftan, for that matter. This dress covers both categories.
And of course I'll need a minidress.
And one that grazes the knee.
And a necklace that melds perfectly with all three.
But occasionally I might crave a little nighttime sparkle. Especially when it involves no zippers or buttons.
I wouldn't be able to live on dresses alone. Well I could, but there would be days when hammock napping or quick jaunts to the beach would be called for. And none of those dresses would really do for any of that.
This top, however, is perfect for wearing over my bathing suit.
With these shorts.
And both would easily fit into my beach bag when I finally decided to trade sand for surf.
For quick trips into town to buy supplies, this top has the ease I'm looking for without the boredom.
And these jeans could go everywhere with everything.
I'm having a big Phillip Lim moment currently. I could live in his line and T by Alexander Wang and Current/Elliott and Ella Moss and Loomstate through my whole non-fantasy vacation summer.
Oh, and Thakoon.
I chose simple shoes. Shoes that would go with many different outfits. Shoes good for walking around old cities with cobblestones and winding streets. Shoes that can be carried as you walk by the beach. Nothing with too high a heel. Practicality above all else.
And since we're discussing practicality, we'll begin with the flats...
And the sandals.
Nothing quite says summer like a pair of espadrilles...
Or two.
And after they all arrived from their various stores and online homes, I would throw them in here with other necessities, perfume, that copy of Madame Bovary I have yet to finish and one PowerBook.
And then I would flit.
Photos via, via, via, via, via, via, via
Today, unable to focus on the task at hand, I found myself browsing online for those types of clothes. Easy pieces that one can just throw on. Items meant for lounging. Sweet dresses and cute espadrilles and simple denim. This has been a theme with me recently, as should be obvious if you've read my past few posts. But today I took it a bit further. Instead of a piece here and a piece there, I constructed a whole vacation wardrobe. And yes, sometimes one needs a vacation from the drudgery and frustration and heartache of being unemployed for a long stretch of time.
A fantasy warm weather vacation can't exist without a bit of Pucci. Or a caftan, for that matter. This dress covers both categories.
And of course I'll need a minidress.
And one that grazes the knee.
And a necklace that melds perfectly with all three.
But occasionally I might crave a little nighttime sparkle. Especially when it involves no zippers or buttons.
I wouldn't be able to live on dresses alone. Well I could, but there would be days when hammock napping or quick jaunts to the beach would be called for. And none of those dresses would really do for any of that.
This top, however, is perfect for wearing over my bathing suit.
With these shorts.
And both would easily fit into my beach bag when I finally decided to trade sand for surf.
For quick trips into town to buy supplies, this top has the ease I'm looking for without the boredom.
And these jeans could go everywhere with everything.
I'm having a big Phillip Lim moment currently. I could live in his line and T by Alexander Wang and Current/Elliott and Ella Moss and Loomstate through my whole non-fantasy vacation summer.
Oh, and Thakoon.
I chose simple shoes. Shoes that would go with many different outfits. Shoes good for walking around old cities with cobblestones and winding streets. Shoes that can be carried as you walk by the beach. Nothing with too high a heel. Practicality above all else.
And since we're discussing practicality, we'll begin with the flats...
And the sandals.
Nothing quite says summer like a pair of espadrilles...
Or two.
And after they all arrived from their various stores and online homes, I would throw them in here with other necessities, perfume, that copy of Madame Bovary I have yet to finish and one PowerBook.
And then I would flit.
Photos via, via, via, via, via, via, via
Friday, June 5, 2009
What About This? (Special Birthday Encore)
I promised, as part of her birthday celebrations, a new post for the first of my styling guinea pigs. The first time round, she gave me free rein when it came to price range. And when let loose, I pick things like Wolford tights and Jimmy Choo booties. So for this birthday edition, she asked that I try to at least be reasonable. So I gave myself a ceiling. No single item over $100. Thankfully, with everything on sale everywhere from Old Navy to Barneys, this didn't prove as difficult as it might have been in previous years.
In fact, I found so many things that I think organizing them into outfits could cause my brain to implode. But then, how to organize them? Day/Night? Work/Play? By Store?
Instead we're going by type of piece, much like this post that I wrote for myself.
Things for the top half
One
Two
Three
Four
Things for the bottom half
One
Two
Three
Things for the whole
One
Two
Three
Four
Five
Things that keep out the cold (or are supposed to...)
One
Two
Three
Things for the feet
One
Two
Three
Four
Thing[s] to carry
One
Things to ornament
One
Two
Three
Four
Five
Six
And one for the head
So that last one broke the rules. But only by six bucks.
It was a necessary evil.
HAPPY (almost) BIRTHDAY KELLY!
Photos via, via, via, via, via, via, via
In fact, I found so many things that I think organizing them into outfits could cause my brain to implode. But then, how to organize them? Day/Night? Work/Play? By Store?
Instead we're going by type of piece, much like this post that I wrote for myself.
Things for the top half
One
Two
Three
Four
Things for the bottom half
One
Two
Three
Things for the whole
One
Two
Three
Four
Five
Things that keep out the cold (or are supposed to...)
One
Two
Three
Things for the feet
One
Two
Three
Four
Thing[s] to carry
One
Things to ornament
One
Two
Three
Four
Five
Six
And one for the head
So that last one broke the rules. But only by six bucks.
It was a necessary evil.
HAPPY (almost) BIRTHDAY KELLY!
Photos via, via, via, via, via, via, via
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