"I will get knickers and a tweed cap and, never having touched a golf club in my life, I will take mushrooms and do a full eighteen holes. As long as is televised." - Peter Buck
There's a photograph of my mother in the "good" family photo album (i.e. the one that only contains black and white images of my mother and grandmother and is inspiring from a style point of view...as opposed to the later albums featuring 70's and 80's clothing which should, quite frankly, be given a decent burial) which I've always wanted to pay homage to...mainly because of the coat she's wearing.
| In the late 50's/early 60's when the image was taken it would have been referred to as sheepskin...in these more p.c. and less literal days we're calling it shearling...either way it summed up a sort of chic practicality which was very alluring. Modern versions that I've come across have always been clunkier and less refined than their older counterparts...at least, they were, up until the point I saw this little number from Spanish designer Masscob. I hate the idea of pairing it with a pussy cat bow (as it is in the image to the right)...but with a black dress or plaid shirt I think it would just about reach perfection. |  |
| "And the merchants of the earth shall weep and mourn over her; for no man buyeth their merchandise any more: / The merchandise of gold, and silver, and precious stones, and of pearls, and fine linen, and purple, and silk, and scarlet, and all thyine wood, and all manner vessels of ivory, and all manner vessels of most precious wood, and of brass, and iron, and marble, / And cinnamon, and odours, and ointments, and frankincense, and wine, and oil, and fine flour, and wheat, and beasts, and sheep, and horses, and chariots, and slaves, and souls of men." - the Bible I mentioned previously that my beloved Wondergoop (aka a leave-in conditioner that made my hair look less like pale straw and more like purposefully tousled hair) had been withdrawn from production. Thanks, as Blanche DuBois might have said, to "the kindness of strangers" I have several partially used bottles in my possession but I knew that however sparingly I used them I was going to run out relatively soon so I wanted to start an immediate search for a replacement product (working under the assumption that it would take forever). Imagine my surprise when I found a successful stand-in straight out of the box...and from the drugstore (and therefore about a third of the price of Wondergoop)...courtesy of Aveeno. |  |
| Having never actually seen an episode of the show I can't say exactly why but...I feel very Pee-wee's Playhouse today. Whether this is a good or bad thing, I can't quite decide... Plaid shirt - Karen Walker, cardigan - J Crew, pants - Prada, Mary Janes - Gentle Souls, neckpiece - made by me |  |
"Two frogs fell into a bowl of cream. One didn't panic, he relaxed and drowned. The other kicked and struggled so much that the cream turned to butter and he walked out." - unknown
I think that I must have been a drum majorette in a former life...I say a f.l. because it requires a level of musicality and athleticism that I certainly don't possess in this one...and it's the only way I can explain my obsession with frogging...the latest example of which is this pair of brooches from Tatty Devine...which would allow me to "frog" literally every item of clothing in my closet.
If it's wrong to get this excited about mirrored gold acrylic then I am the wrongest person living in wrongville on the planet wrong...
"Lacking ladylike poison, Lizzie (Borden) did what every over-civilized, understated Wasp is entirely capable of doing once we finally admit we're mad as hell and aren't going to take it any more: She went from Anglo to Saxon in a trice" - Florence King
| Prada's Spring/Summer '10 collection didn't thrill me...frequent readers will know that I'm a shorts hater and the combination of nappiesque and Bermuda versions was too much for me...the hair and make-up, on the other hand, had the disheveled yet ladylike air that I find completely irresistible. I see ludicrous amounts of backcombing and a can of hairspray in my near future... |  |
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...another one opens. At least that's what they say...and who am I to argue...as my winter wishlist tally sheet is now minus on the boot side...and plus on the tweed coat. Or...to mix yet another metaphor...what I've lost on my corset-booted swings I have gained on my tweedy little Acne roundabouts.
Checking every box on my checklist...
What with one thing and another...mainly my little Swiss adventure...by the time I got round to calling Oak about the LD Tuttle boots they were sold out. As the only other store that I could find who's selling that particular style is doing so for $150 more...Sak's, I'm looking and you and your illogical and extremely irritating habit of over-pricing...made all the more blatant and incomprehensible by the fact that in this virtual world it's so easy to comparison check and see how marked up everything is...I think this is one of those cases of, on good days, regarding this as something that was just not meant to be...and, on bad days, cursing myself for my prevarication.
And the boot hunt continues...
From a purely "what would make my life easier?" standpoint there are several kitchen related items that I could really use. Topping the list are...
Considering how lucky I've been with sale purchases recently I suppose it was inevitable that I'd run into the evil combination of something that I know I'd get a lot of wear out of...vastly reduced...and sold out in my size. If it was clothing, I'd risk it...but you can't argue with shoes that are too small...okay, you can argue...but then you're known as "the gimpy one with the funny walk".
If you happen to have small feet...and are looking for something in a snake-printed leather, cuban-heeled, cowboy-style, ankle boot...you may want to cast a glance at these beauties from British label You Must Create.
| Or is it? I'm trying to decide if blogging has made me unutterably jaded...or if, to date, the Spring/Summer '10 collections have really been (in the majority of cases) as yawn inducing as I currently imagine. Discounting Karen Walker...whose collection I could take a good stab at recreating thanks to the morass of striped tees and black blazers currently infesting my closet...the only sight that made me yearn for spring were Charles Anastase's hoop skirts... Even worse, my built-in attraction to the dark side is causing me to panic at the thought of the pastel tsunami that is destined to wash over us all come the spring... |  |
D'ye ken John Peel with his coat so gay?
D'ye ken John Peel at the break o' day?
D'ye ken John Peel when he's far, far a-way.
With his hounds and his horn in the morning?
Chorus
For the sound of his horn brought me from my bed,
And the cry of his hounds which he oftime led,
Peel's "View, Halloo!" could awaken the dead,
Or the fox from his lair in the morning.
D’ye ken that bitch whose tongue was death?
D’ye ken her sons of peerless faith?
D’ye ken that fox, with his last breath
Curs’d them all as he died in the morning?
For the sound of his horn, etc.
Yes I ken John Peel and Ruby too
Ranter and Royal and Bellman as true,
From the drag to the chase, from the chase to the view
From a view to the death in the morning
For the sound of his horn, etc.
And I’ve followed John Peel both often and far,
O’er the rasper fence and the gate and the bar,
From low Denton Holme up to Scratchmere Scar,
Where we view for the brush in the morning
For the sound of his horn, etc.
Then here's to John Peel with my heart and soul
Come fill – fill to him another strong bowl,
And we'll follow John Peel through fair and through foul
While we’re waked by his horn in the morning.
For the sound of his horn, etc.
- 18th century Cumbrian hunting song
I've been saying it for a while now...and, to be fair, it's been too blisteringly warm up till this point to do anything about it...but I really need to wear some of the vast array of scarves hiding in my closet (and resolve not to buy any new ones until I've done so). Rather embarrassingly I'd actually...hmmm, this really is embarrassing...I'd actually forgotten that this particular scarf was even in my collection.
Even worse...this was one of the scarves that my mother wore during her hunting period (for anyone who is against humans on horseback chivvying foxes across the countryside I should say that hunting in the north of England is done on foot...across hill and field...and if you can keep up with the fox in those circumstances it should surely be considered as a slightly mitigating factor)...and which should be worn for nostalgia reasons alone...let alone the devilish little smile on the hound's face.
There are two kinds of "fashion math". The first is the good kind...where "cost per wear" equates to 10 cents an outing...or the coupon Gods align with the sale Gods to create something that is both just what you were looking for and about 80% off the regular price.
Then...there's the bad kind...where you desperately want, say, a couple of the over-sized tote bags created to celebrate 25 years of London Fashion Week (Preen's blue flowers and Charles Anastase's swan to be precise)...until you realize that the cost of shipping is exactly the same as the cost of the bags...
My list of "Sunday morning virtual newspapers/magazines to browse through while armed with a cup of coffee and a slice of cherry jam laden toast" has increased by one...which means the situation is getting dire...a few more entries and I'm still going to be loafing around reading by the time lunch rolls around.
However, having picked up an issue of the French version of Grazia on my travels, I couldn't resist taking a peek at their website...and now I'm hooked...a spattering of "fashion candy"...outfits, shopping, and the ilk...and one of the creepiest fashion week streetstyle pictures I've come across in many a day...displaying, quite clearly, that for every tasteful piece of leopard print standing around looking chic its shiny, over-the-top, nemesis is lurking in the shadows waiting to bludgeon it senseless...
"Poor Englishwomen! When it comes to their clothes-well, the French reaction is a shrug, the Italian reaction a spreading of the hands and a lifting of the eyes and the American reaction simply one of amused contempt." - James Laver
"By three methods we may learn wisdom: first, by reflection, which is noblest; second, by imitation, which is easiest; and third, by experience, which is the most bitter." - Confucius
I've mentioned my nostalgia-laden love of Joseph numerous times before...so I'm not going to cover old ground. Instead I'm going to say "hurrah!" that they have finally launched a website...though there's no fully-blown "hip, hip, hooray!" as you can't actually buy anything there...
What it does contain are small blog-gy posts (for Joseph nerds like myself)...information on which stores carry which labels...and pictures of their own Fall/Winter collection (which appears to have been plucked...lock, stock, and leopard-trimmed barrel...from Carine Roitfeld's closet). Still, as Charles Caleb Colton said, imitation is "the sincerest form of flattery"...and, quite frankly, left to my own devices (and given a briefcase stuffed with money) I'd buy most of the pieces...so I'm not going to whine about any lack of originality. Instead I'm going to grumble about not being near enough to a Joseph store to actually do any damage...
...except that I didn't...I bought candy...this t-shirt...and a satisfyingly kitsch "I lost my heart in Switzerland" patch.
As Fall is just around the corner I'm convincing myself that it's cool enough to wear a jacket...in this case, a cotton tuxedo (of the style worn by French waiters in black and white movies) from Margiela's MM6 line. I've also convinced myself to drag my python and silk Lanvin bag out of the closet...up until this point I've been so transfixed by its beauty (and accompanying delicacy) that I've been too nervous to use it...the time has come to cross my fingers and hope for the best...
"Switzerland is a small, steep country, much more up and down than sideways, and is all stuck over with large brown hotels built on the cuckoo style of architecture." - Ernest Hemingway
Just back from Geneva...laden with crippling jet-lag...yet another striped t-shirt (this time long-sleeved and tissue-thin from Zara)...a few cheesy souvenirs....and a reaffirmed belief that Balenciaga make the most utilitarian designer bags around...my Day managed five days of toting a laptop, other electronic paraphernalia, and all the other junk I had to lug around with nary a whimper (it even managed to endure the bottle of water which emptied itself inside when I stowed it under the plane seat in front of mine).
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| Considering that I personally have two Barbours hanging in the coat closet...a regular jacket and a full-length riding coat (not to mention Mr. Heb's mini collection)...this is definitely not a prospective purchase post...more of a "what a great idea, I wish they'd thought of this sooner" post. Because what's not to love about a Barbour trench coat? Waterproof to the nth degree...stylish...and virtually indestructible (my own coats have been treated incredibly badly over the years and are still going strong)...when you compare it to the majority of other trench coats which, though beautiful, seem unable to actually withstand a certain amount of rain it's one of those irresistible marriages of practicality and good looks. I'd better stop now before I talk myself into "needing" a new Barbour... |  |
| When I first tried Kiehl's Gardenia rollerball I couldn't figure out why both Mr. Heb and I were both attracted to it to such a degree...it being relatively rare that we both sniff in agreement. Even our reasoning matched...it was "comforting"..."homey"..."like being warm indoors on a cold winter day". Then, after a few days, I realized...the scented candles that we light in the winter are (you guessed it) scented with gardenia. Yep...I'm the woman who smells like her living room... |  |
"Even today, well-brought-up English girls are taught by their mothers to boil all veggies for at least a month and a half, just in case one of the dinner guests turns up without his teeth." - Calvin Trillin
| I'm considering this post somewhat of a two-pronged Public Service Announcement. Prong number one means that someone gets their sticky little mitts on a Rick Owens boiled wool/cashmere dress from his 2008 Fall/Winter collection for a very reasonable price. Prong number two means that (as a consequence of prong one) the buyer won't be me...which means, I suppose, that my mantra "I do not need another sweater related product in my closet" is actually working. |  |
I feel like starting a petition to get French brand, the kooples, to start selling their clothes in the US...it's either that or stop looking at their website...as every time I do so I find at least one or two items to drool over...this time my unrequited love list includes this button necked t-shirt and double-zip-waisted tweed skirt...nothing excessive, just basics with that extra bit of detail.
I came across the following as I clicked through Vogue's Filipa Fino's Editor's Choice picks on Style.com...a dress from The Row to go gardening in (and based on the accompanying image we're not talking about re-potting a cactus...this is real, soil, sweat, and hard labor stuff)...this is why I don't read American Vogue...
I've found myself staring into space quite a bit recently...thinking deep, boot related thoughts (I know, I know...like a prospective Miss World I should probably be considering world peace or the end of hunger but, there you go).
The problem is that this is yet another skirmish in the ongoing battle between "practical" and "what I'd really like if I didn't have to think about things like the weather...comfortable mobility...and a post-root canal lack of funds". In this instance I have a feeling that practical may lose...especially if I spend too much time thinking about these beauties from ld tuttle.
| It's way too early to be talking about Christmas...at least, it feels that way to me...but I know that any day now some bright spark on television will tell us that "there are only X shopping days until Christmas" and set the clock ticking in my head. So, let's not mention the "C" word in relation to this little item...let's just say that, in an attempt to brighten mid-winter, Kenzo is packaging its Flower fragrance in a matryoshka...and that this is one of those cases where I don't actually want the item in question...just the packaging... |  |
The scene: A cold, November night in the city. Huddled in a chair by the window the girl knows she must go outside, yet is reluctant. Almost as a way of delaying the inevitable she leans down and presses the button on a vintage tape recorder on the floor by her feet.
"Day 54...the search continues...how can it be this hard? All I ask is a decent, heavyweight piece of tweed...enough buttons to keep out the chills...a cut that's masculine, with a feminine side...costing less than the G.D.P. of a small country..."
"How doth the little crocodile
Improve his shining tail,
And pour the waters of the Nile
On every golden scale!
How cheerfully he seems to grin,
How neatly spreads his claws,
And welcomes little fishes in
With gently smiling jaws!"
- Lewis Carroll
| With possibly the shortest gap ever between the internal decision points of "should I?" and "I will"...at least, for me...I now have a pair of polka dotted tights in my possession. To be honest, if I hadn't had a gift certificate burning a hole in my pocket the internal musings may have gone on a little longer but, armed with free money...and faced with being able to buy a pair in person as opposed to hesitating over the "add to cart" button online...the decision was made. Delirious with hosiery-induced madness I even picked up a pair of grey, croco-embossed tights from DKNY. That's right...not only will my legs have the pox this fall...they'll be scaly as well... |  |
"He did not know what love was. And he did not know what good it was. But he knew he carried it around with him, a scabrous spot of rot, of contagion, for which there was no cure." - Harry Crews
Having actually...a) tracked down a travel bag that fit my (admittedly rather exacting) criteria...and b) a trip on the horizon...it's time to see if I can manage to pack enough clothes for a six day transatlantic jaunt in a carry-on. In theory, if I can manage to not check any luggage for trips within the 48 contiguous states I can manage outside...but somehow, in my head, greater distance means greater uncertainty as to weather conditions and a corresponding need for more options.
I see a lot of nerdishly satisfying outfit lists in my immediate future...
Today's quote should really have been Labor Day related...but I couldn't resist using this particular piece of whimsy from Horace. Actually though, it works with the more surreal aspects of the day...like the vintage convertible/boat that chugged past us a little while ago as we walked by the lake...mother, father, two children...all smiling ecstatically and obviously having a wonderful day out (though, really, how could you not have a giddy good time when you're in a car surrounded by boats?)
Of course, as usual, I'd left my camera at home so you'll have to use your imagination...red...convertible...bobbing along...wheeeee!
I'm a voracious reader now but it started at a young age...thanks to Winnie the Pooh...Enid Blyton (and her Famous Five and Secret Seven)...and Maurice Sendak's "Where the Wild Things Are". As such, I can't say that I'm thrilled by the thought of Spike Jonze's upcoming film adaptation...so much of the joy of books is that each person creates their own unique CinemaScope in their head, I'm inclined to feel like these adaptations take a little something away from future reader's enjoyment of the books themselves...also, as "W.T.W.T.A" is comprised of ten sentences, I can't help but think that a massive quantity of artistic license must have been invoked to create a full-length movie.
So...anti-adaptation...but (just to be contrary) all for the Spike Jonze - Opening Ceremony - Pamela Love collaboration inspired by the film. I'm not sure whether the spiked and feathered little number is supposed to be worn around the neck or wrist...either way I'd probably stab myself, and several innocent bystanders whenever I wore it, but I can't help but think it might be worth the risk...
As anticipated my new dress didn't spend long lurking in the closet waiting to be worn. Ideally I want to wear it with thick opaques and ankle boots...however, due to today's high humidity, all I could manage were double weave fishnets and flats. Summer can end none too soon as far as I'm concerned...
(Sidenote for annemarie...if you're still considering this dress bear in mind that it may be longer on you as I'm freakishly tall...5'11" in my fish-stockinged feet)
Our city council...bless their little cotton socks...has finally taken pity on a rather scrubby piece of parkland and planted about a tonne of assorted wild flowers (cue massive excitement in the local sparrow and butterfly community). If I ever have anything that could even remotely be termed a garden I'm using this as inspiration...
...though, as Juliet would probably have admitted, the sadness is mitigated when you come by what could be deemed as a "steal". As I mentioned yesterday, the fact that my favorite local store was closing was riddling me with guilt...and a vulture like urge to pick the remains...
An emotion that others must have shared as the pickings weren't plentiful. I did, however, manage to check an item off my mental wish list when I stumbled across this dress from Paris based designers, Surface to Air. I've been on the lookout for a denim dress for a while now...but I didn't want one that screamed "denim"...just a dress with interesting design details that happened to have been made out of denim. In this instance, the details are off-kilter sophistication on the front (as Mr. Heb said, "it looks like a dressy nurse's uniform)...while on the rear, the raw seams that I'd usually associate with Japanese denim have morphed into a very decorative embellishment. The best part...and the reason I'm calling it a steal...is that its price tag had been satisfyingly scribbled upon with reductions and counter reductions...until it reached the final sum of $46.
"Unless one says goodbye to what one loves, and unless one travels to completely new territories, one can expect merely a long wearing away of oneself and an eventual extinction." - Jean Dubuffet
| One postcard in the mail...and suddenly I'm filled with guilt and recriminations...the reason...it was a store closing notification...for possibly the only bricks and mortar store in my immediate vicinity whose aesthetic was close to my own. The "G&R"...caused by the fact that I haven't visited in a while...they're clothes aren't cheap and I've been attempting to "be good"...but, as they say, every little helps...maybe I could have done my bit to keep them in business. And so the thoughts circle around in my head... |  |
I've mentioned Made Her Think's bags before...but in that case it was a stingray clutch...so I'm allowing myself a partial re-post to mention her latest design (which is a shoulder bag and therefore much more useful for daydreamers like myself who rely upon a strap to keep themselves and their bags in close proximity).
It's not the strap though that's getting my pulse racing...that's being taken care of by what I can best describe as the "Dr. Frankenstein goes luxe" concept of slightly wrinkled leather...sewn together by a surgeon wielding golden sutures and copious amounts of metal plates.
| Or...in my case...they leave an address so that a dress can be forwarded to them. Actually, in the case of this "veering towards Catholic schoolgirl but saved at the last moment by a swerve into French insouciance" plaid dress, I'd actually leave a stamped, self-addressed envelope so that temptation wouldn't even have to go to the Post Office (those long lines can make him so cranky). |  |
Generally hair...once it has left someone's head and can no longer be termed as long, luxurious, luscious, or any of the other "L" words that seems to attach to hair like bugs caught in a blast of hair spray...loses its romance.
Except, that is, when it's been braided and encapsulated in a golden heart...then the love is back (though with a certain poignancy as this is, in all probability, a piece originally used by a Victorian maiden to mourn a lost love).
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