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.


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Oceanfront

I could go down the typical female route here and say that I hate shopping for bathing suits, but that would be a lie. I love shopping for anything. Books. DVDs. Baked Goods. Groceries. Pens. (God I love pens. I used to horde my pens in middle school. And each class had a different color pen assigned to it for note taking. And I placed them in the individual pen holders in the front pocket of my L.L. Bean monogrammed backpack. Because I was, and am, a dork. And that is what dorks do.)

During that extremely warm spell we had here in New York a month ago, I pulled out the brown tankini that I bought three summers ago. I hadn't worn it since last summer and decided that I should see how it fits before swimming season begins in earnest. The results were not good. There was a lot of unfortunate sagging, and it was instantly clear that it would have to be replaced.

When it comes to bathing suits, I go for function over style. I try to remember function when shopping for most of my clothes, but I have bought things that border on ridiculous. However, there is room for more freedom in my clothing purchases as I don't have to go swimming in them.

And that's what bathing suits are for above all else. Swimming. Maybe it's that tanning never enters my consciousness because I am brown to begin with, but I can't imagine buying a suit that's only purpose is looking pretty. That's like buying a pair of jeans that can only be worn while standing. I can't fathom such a thing. So I end up with suits like these.

From Urban Outfitters:


From J.Crew:


Functional yet pretty. Versatile enough that I wouldn't have to buy a new suit for a few years. I can, however, become easily seduced by suits like these.

From Anthropologie:


From J.Crew...again:


(Yes, I know that last one involves seersucker. I stopped denying my preppy leanings about four years ago.)

These suits, while perfectly fine for others, would never work for me. Like with my real clothes, I need structure. And these have little. But as with the double-breasted coats, I am tempted.

And then I remind myself that flashing half of the beach while playing in the surf is never, ever a good thing.


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The Tiara

I'm still wavering about what to wear for my birthday. At the moment, nothing in my closet is appealing to me. There is one item, however, that is firmly decided upon.


I bought this tiara last year for my 25th. It was about $3 at the local Party City. I didn't spend long in the birthday-related aisle before making my way to the cashier with this one in tow. I wasn't very excited about the prospect of turning 25. In fact, I dreaded it. Feeling unaccomplished while turning a year older never leaves one ready to party. Especially when that birthday is a milestone. But something about the pink and the purple and the general sparkliness made me giddy. It reminded me of the silver Happy Birthday tiara my mother presented me with on my fourth birthday. I sat in the middle of the living room with my legs crossed opening my presents and feeling particularly special and loved.

I don't remember the gifts I received that year. There were possibly a few Barbie related items and some clothes, but I remember the tiara. I held onto it for years. It might still be hiding somewhere in my mother's house. Hidden along with the now frightening doll that's heart and crown only lit up when you shook her as hard as you could. (Thank goodness I didn't have any younger siblings that my little self could try this trick on.)

To say that I'm feeling anxious about the prospect of this upcoming birthday wouldn't be a stretch by any means. But one thing that does calm me about it is this plastic novelty. Looking utterly ridiculous walking along Brooklyn streets while receiving Happy Birthdays from strangers. Taking many pictures as it sits upon my head.

Blowing out a candle set in my favorite restaurant's bread pudding and making a wish.

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.



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Heat Wave

The heat has descended upon us, at least for the time being, and on Saturday I was finally able to throw on a dress without layers and tights and jackets and worries.

For that first stretch of warmth, I pulled out a dark blue cotton dress that I bought at The Gap two years ago. The plan for the day was to wander the Brooklyn Flea with a friend. (A place where I, surprisingly, always end up eating and never shopping.) I took a window seat in a nearby coffee shop and waited for my friend to arrive. My iced coffee wasn't long for this world and The Village Voice that had been left by the seat's previous occupant only held my attention intermittently. I spent most of my time trying not to look at the cute boy who took the seat next to mine and watching everyone enjoy the warm weather on the sidewalk in front of me.

Everyone goes a bit crazy during that first warm weekend. Shorts and skirts and tanks are pulled from the recesses of closets and dressers and thrown together in eye-searing combinations. This is why I chose a dress. Simple. Easy. I didn't give myself the chance to throw on every warm weather piece of clothing I own in a hot weather frenzy. No walking shorts with espadrilles with tank top with cropped cardigan with brightly-colored purse with three bangles and a headband. It was time to feel out the warmth. To decide what could be salvaged from last Spring and Summer. To really get down to the business of cleaning out my closet.

Well I would eventually get down to the business of cleaning. I first had to attend to the eye-searing colors in the snow cone I bought from the ice cream truck parked outside of the Flea.

Homework

I'm in the midst of a task for a job that I'm interested in, and I find myself up to my ears in pictures of shoes and bags and dresses and distressed jeans. But through all of the muddle, I found the perfect Spring outfit for me.


It's perfect for brunch. For all of those wonderful dates that I go on. For a day of window shopping with a friend. I'm especially in love with the flats. They and I are meant to be together forever. Or at least until I find someone younger and a bit flashier.


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Finalement Paris

After weeks and weeks, I've gotten to this city at last. Though New York is my home, I've always wanted to attend the Paris shows. To finally use some of that French I spent nine years studying. To overindulge on pastries and drink a bit too much wine.

Though my pattern of only liking collections in pairs disappeared, the number of individual pieces from various collections that I found myself drawn to ballooned.

A belted blue Dries Van Noten coat.

And a zippered one from Roland Mouret.

An almost too sexy for me Nina Ricci minidress.

An easy day ensemble from the relaunched Rochas.

An one-shouldered Giambattista Valli gown.

A strapless Lanvin dress.

A voluminous Balenciaga skirt.

A printed Stella McCartney dress.

A pink Chanel quilted bag.

In terms of full collections, there was only one. I've always loved Martin Grant. The intricacy of the tailoring makes me dizzy in a way that reminds me of the days when I would spin far too fast on the tire swing. I was so overcome with giddiness that I could hardly stand or breathe when my feet finally made their way back to the sand below.

Many of the stand alone pieces that I like are on the trendier side. Items that I would wear for a year or two before possibly becoming bored with them. They would settle into the back of my closet with the business casual pants and the medical school interview suits. The collections, however, always lean toward the classic. Things I could wear forever with a bit of an adjustment here or there. Those are the types of pieces I always find myself coming back to. Visiting in various stores imagining the day when I might be able to take them home with me.

I wanted every item that Martin Grant had on offer for next Fall, but here's a small taste.

A gray belted coat.

A white halter dress.

A gray off the shoulder dress.

A black halter dress.

A Joan Holloway-esque pink dress.

An impossibly wide and high pair of pants.

And pure drama.

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