You find me now, deep in the throes of a "Goldilocks moment"...having taken her "too hard, too soft, just right" bed manifesto to heart...and applied it to hi-top sneakers. Pierre Hardy started it...with a style whose piping echoed that of his bags...but they were too expensive and, at the time, just too hard to find. Then came Isabel Marant...whose shoes were beautiful but, with a 3" internal heel, too high for a klutz like me.
My "just right" came courtesy of Marc by Marc Jacobs...khaki canvas...black leather...dressier than a sneaker...a comfortably cool option for pounding the summer streets...
That's it...I'm done...throw a (Union Jack emblazoned) throw over me and put me bed. For, having made the mistake of turning on the television when I found myself unable to sleep, I have now watched ALL of the Royal wedding coverage...and can barely keep my eyes open.
On a fashion-related note, both the bride and bridesmaid dresses were rather lovely...on a non-fashion note, it's not too often you get to see a verger doing cartwheels in the abbey.
I'm finding it a little hard to believe that it's almost May and I'm still pulling out the waffle cashmere that saw me through the winter...usually discussions about "seasonless clothes" refers to light layers that work by themselves in summer, or en masse in winter...not an inability to escape from your winter woolies.
Having been weaned on Enid Blyton...and other authors of that ilk...whose stories were populated by girls named George who had ripping (yet completely non-controversial) adventures...I am all too well aware of the power of “the pash”. In those completely PC tales a “pash” was a pronounced (yet completely non-sexual) fondness for someone...the dictionary of slang and colloquialisms of the UK has a slightly more grown up viewpoint and conjugates it as follows...“I found her having a pash in the back garden with the nextdoor neighbour”.
However you want to look at it, I am currently in the grips of a pash...for things vintage, and golden, and shiny...like this sea-creature-chic brooch by Howard Benedikt...a New York jeweler who made fine costume jewelry from 1955 to 1970...
Another entry...following this week's (entirely unintentional) motif...the Vuitton logo on brick and sidewalk. Entry number two...you know you are strolling through a slightly upscale neighborhood when you find yourself stepping on discarded Vuitton merchandising material...
If you are reading this there is a fairly good chance that you are a Pixelworker..."web workers - designers, developers, copywriters, user experience architects, and bloggers - dedicated to building a better Internet"...in which case, you really ought to consider showing your allegiance and joining the union...United Pixelworkers...if only to get one of their "on sale for 18 days, 4 hours, 8 minutes and 51 seconds and then they're gone" featured tees...
There's nothing like the heady thrill that accompanies buying a pair of cheap sunglasses...the knowledge that no guilt when be attached when you drop them, sit on them, throw them in your bag and scratch them...or any of the other CAE (crimes against eyewear) that it is possible to perpetrate.
Especially when they're (p)leather-trimmed aviators...from H&M...and mildly dent your wallet (coming in at a very budget-friendly $10).
I'm not going to say that the best thing about LA jeweler Pade Vavra's bug bracelets is their description on her website...because the bracelets themselves have that quirky macabre quality that I find irresistible. However, the sentence "sacred bugs, who all died of natural causes after living long, meaningful lives on an exotic bug farm" is equally hard to resist...
...it's also where the Scrabble set can be found in it's native habitat...of course, if you're like me...you now take your Scrabble everywhere you go, courtesy of the Words With Friends app on your iPhone (it's like nerdy crack, I tell you).
Home, however, is where you can wrack your brains over what to do with the Z, Q, and R in person...be relatively sure that you're adversary isn't looking their words up online...and recline against a set of these thematically correct HOME cushions...
At this point I really can't decide if Moda Operandi...the online trunk-show-format retail venture conceived by Vogue contributing editor Lauren Santo Domingo and ex–Gilt Grouper Aslaug Magnusdottir...is a sign of things to come...or just an extraordinarily bad idea.
The photography is good...detailed close-ups that really allow you get a feel for the fabric...free worldwide shipping...and stylists available 24/7 via phone or email (though I dare anyone to try calling at 3am to get an opinion on a dress).
BUT (big, fully capitalized, "but")...there are so many things to turn the prospective purchaser off...only a few days to make a decision...once that decision is made (not easy given the expense of most of the things on the site), you pay 50% of the total amount, then see nothing for months...and a VERY (oh dear, there's a lot of capitalization today) stringent return policy...returns on apparel and footwear only and, even then, only for a store credit. If the handbag/jewelry/watch/wallet/or myriad of other paraphernalia that you purchased doesn't live up to expectations, you're stuck with it.
BUT #2...there are some truly lovely pieces on the site. These suede boots from Parisienne designer Laurence Dacade literally left me staring at my screen...despite the ludicrous idea of buying extremely expensive suede boots to trot around in during the wet and dreary winter months...AND...my acknowledged inability to manoeuvre in any heel higher than an inch.
Such was the madness that they induced I found myself browsing for other Dacade designs from this season...only to fall in love with an equally unwearable (from my perspective) pair in studded grey suede...going so far as to put together prospective outfits utilizing them...
At some point there will be a loud crashing sound...indicative of spring taking a wild leap into being...and tripping over the coffee table in the process. At this magic moment it may actually be mild enough for me to do my own version of the polka..."the changing seasons Hebden two-step"...swathed in nothing more substantial that a lightweight dress, Hartford's polka dot scarf draped rakishly around my neck.
Of course, it may just continue to snow/rain/sleet for the rest of the year, in which case my dance may be more of a somber shuffle.
To date, my "Royal Wedding Fever" has consisted of a slight sense of depression concerning the new lows reached by souvenir sellers (Crown Jewels prophylactics, I'm looking at you)...and a sense of impending doom and "Is that one of the four horsemen I see over there?" unease over the news that Kate Middleton's penchant for knee-high boots has unleashed a shopping fever on the UK which has seen their sale rise 663% in the last month...
Finally, something non-ghastly has raised its head above the parapet... Infinitely more enjoyable than a made-for-tv-movie, this could be the best two minutes and thirteen seconds of royal wedding coverage you will see...
A somewhat welcome result of the drastic dip in the mercury...and the accompanying snow (not much but enough to require a winter sweater and mittens to be unearthed from what I'd foolishly assumed was their resting place for the remainder of the year)...has been the rare urge to do a little spring cleaning. I always forget how good it feels to purge things that I've been holding onto for what seemed (originally) to be a perfectly valid reason...yet (now) bear a striking resemblance to junk.
It's at times like this...bathed in the virtuous glow of someone who can finally see a few bare inches of counter space...that the sight of these images of Gwyneth Paltrow's TriBeca loft induces massive amounts of envy. Then reality sets in...and the accompanying knowledge that even with vaults of cash...and the corresponding ability to spread my crap (I mean, worldly possessions) around several homes...I'd still be an inveterate pack-rat, unable to live in an antiseptic environment containing one coffee table book and a couple of vases.
Sunday morning...a cup of coffee...the virtual "newspapers" (all of the entertainment value, none of the inky black residue on your fingertips when you're done). Three minutes and forty-nine seconds of my life wasted on a video about the sartorial benefits of the silk shirt (mental note: flap-topped pockets over each breast are not a good look on anyone)...another couple of minutes internally debating the likelihood of me spending any of the time in the run up to Easter slaving away in the kitchen trying to make saffron-honey-pseudo-Peeps (slim to zero)...
I'd like to think that the correlation between the number of bicycle-related posts that I do (relatively high)...and the actual amount of time I spend cycling (pathetically low)...indicates the desire to add a little more exercise to my regimen. The reality, as I'll cheerfully admit, is that cycling...in my mind's eye...is of the variety much beloved by movies from the middle of the last century...where well-coiffed ladies...and mischievous gamines...traveled from point A to B...beautifully dressed...rarely displaying even a bead of perspiration...with enviably chic bicycles and baskets.
Which leads me to Kate Spade's Adeline bicycle...a little too vehemently green for my tastes...and (more importantly) the accompanying Essex Bike Scout bag...
Like Superman (before he nipped into the phone booth)...it's mild-mannered cross-body satchel by day...handlebar hugger by night (or "later in the day" for those of you more factual readers).
Finally, an accessory that works for the 99.9% of the time I'm not actually on two wheels.
Yesterday...love was such an easy game to play...it was also "bruise day"...featuring a lot of seasonally appropriate layers in a black and blue ensemble...
Not my car...nor the car of anyone that I know (I realize that I sound very much like a stereotypical foreign language tape right at this second..."here is the feather of my aunt"..."voici la plume de ma tante")...but I'm rather loving the idea of Vuitton (or, in all likelihood, faux-Vuitton) car seats...
Who knew that the old gents who go out to feed the squirrels and pigeons dressed in a Hawaiian shirt (with matching knee-length shorts)...ankle socks...and loafers...were trend setters? Or, that for a mere $750 the man in your life could follow suit with a pair of sandal sneakers from Dior Homme...
Coming soon...the designer bag of slightly moldy bread...and a phrase book of "Conversational guidelines for the woodland creature you regularly dine with."
The photographs do not belong to me (except the ones I personally shot.) All photos are only used by commenting purposes and none are used for commercial reasons.
The avatar image used for this blog was taken by Ryan Robinson.
