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

I'm torn by the whole Balenciaga polka-dotted leg debate (what...you missed that...ah, it happened in a dull moment after the whole 'should a hem be double stitched' debacle...thrilling stuff). My concerns are twofold...

1. I am, as I've said before, a klutz...at a rough estimate, I give myself 30 minutes before the dots on the tights are joined by a few ragged tears and holes
2. Elegant though they looked on the runway I can't help but wonder if the overall impression (on me at least) will be someone with leg-based chicken pox who should be home in bed and not spreading disease through the general populace

The good news is that, should I decide to risk both of the above eventualities, I have located a purveyor of polka dots (at satisfyingly non-Balenciaga prices).

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...

In reality I know that there was probably no one single thing that caused the store to close...during a recession all of those moving parts...that are so precariously balanced during the good times...start to shudder and fall apart. Yet I can't help feeling a little guilty...

Added to this guilt is the fact that the postcard was announcing a blow-out closing down sale...current season stock reduced by 25-50%...prior seasons by 70-90%. Will I be dashing over to try and take advantage of the deals? Yes. Will I feel like a vulture picking at the carcass of some deceased desert creature while I do so? Probably.

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).

My "tip for the day", as one of the ever-so-helpful agony aunts might say...is not, under any circumstances, when one has been faced with the double whammy of a root canal and the bill for the aforementioned root canal (and no dental insurance)...not, I say, to weigh up the cost of said r.c. in terms of, say, a certain green Balenciaga handbag. Because that way, my friends, madness lies.

Instead try a cheery cost per wear analysis on your newly refurbished tooth...or write a blog post while you're still under the influence of pain killers...

The thing that I like about today's quote is that by pronouncing 'environ' in just the right way you can manage to get 'iron on' to work with the rhythm of the sentence (egad, I need to get out more). Not that I'm suggesting that Galsworthy spent much time considering the humble iron on...though somewhat surprisingly, as I always thought of them as something quintessentially 1970's, they were actually invented about 100 years earlier...so, in theory at least, Galsworthy could have spent the odd moment pondering their beauty...just as I'm currently doing with these quaint, naive, muted examples from Sukie.

When you're feeling rather grotty...especially on a Sunday...there's nothing like curling up in a corner and flicking through a few magazines in search of inspiration (for when you feel better and less interested in your "comfortable but crappy" sick wear). Inspiration, or so they say, comes in many forms...I just never expected one of those forms to be American Elle (and with Jennifer Aniston on the cover, no less).

Yet, there you go...styled by Camille Bidault-Waddington, "Age of Enlightenment" is all about the details...and what fascinating and appealing little details they are...

Another day...another set of apologies...this time because a raging case of toothache (multiple teeth...some of them must be sympathy pains...I just wish the little swines would choose another time to be sympathetic)...as a result of which I am finding it difficult to think...let alone come up with anything vaguely lucid in written form.

Apologies upfront...this post is completely selfish...but I just found out that I'll be spending a few days in Geneva in the middle of September and (having never visited there before) am throwing myself on the mercy (and wisdom) of my readers.

Basically I'm looking for recommendations...inexpensive (yet good) restaurants...places to grab a quintessentially Swiss snack...great boutiques or "must see" places to visit (just so that everything isn't glutinous and food based).

Thanks for indulging me on this one...normal posting will resume shortly.

Not to be over curmudgeonly and nit-picky (she said, before continuing and being just that) but...can anyone explain the point of a relatively heavy winter coat whose only fastening is one, meager little button? I ask because I keep coming across coats that are perfect...heavy wool...cozy lining...with all the bases covered in the winter warmth department... Except, that is, for the measly fastening trying to contain all your body heat...wide open at the neck (hello chest cold!)...billowing out at the hem with even the slightest puff of wind...completely ignoring the practicalities of life...and the concept that if it’s cold enough to require a heavyweight coat it’s surely cold enough to want a coat that doesn’t gape open and let the cold roam freely about the person of the wearer...

"The smallest patch of green to arrest the monotony of asphalt and concrete is as important to the value of real estate as streets, sewers and convenient shopping." - James Felt

I always find myself deeply attracted to the Balenciaga bags that aren't part of their normal arsenal of Works, Citys, Firsts, et al...the hybrids, the freaks, the bags that you rarely see and, when you do, are generally on sale because they don't fit the accepted criteria for a "B bag". Though it's currently full-priced (and rather expensively f-p'd at that) I'll definitely be keeping an eye on this retro futuristic jade number. Roomy...elegant...in a fascinating color...and not readily identifiable...in other words, bag nirvana.

"The crisis consists precisely in the fact that the old is dying and the new cannot be born; in this interregnum a great variety of morbid symptoms appear."

A psychiatrist would probably see something deeply depressing in my fixation with skulls...but, really, can anything be truly depressing when it's covered in gold vermeil and is made by a company called Tylie Malibu (which I would like to think is the name of Barbie's prescription drug addicted neighbor but is, in fact, a California based bag and accessory company). Oh dear, that Barbie comment would probably cause an analyst some anxiety as well...

Fall is almost upon us...I know this not because I am "at one" with nature...but because I’ve started my annual battle against the inner demons compelling me to buy (yet another) chunky, over-sized, thick woolen sweater. This annual affliction has occurred since I was a teen...and, at this point, I have enough wool in my closet to re-fleece an entire herd of prematurely balding sheep...I need to step away from the edge (and the fleece). Even if it's braided...and calling out to me like a lamb stuck in a ditch at two o'clock in the morning (ah, sweet memories of the two springs spent working on a friend's sheep farm).

It's rare (or, at least, it's seemed that way recently) to stumble across customer service that is kind/generous/thoughtful/helpful to the customer and not just another way to part them from the contents of their wallet...the kind of thing that changes you from a curmudgeonly old cynic (i.e. my normal genetic make-up) into someone who runs around discussing rainbows and the fact that the glass is, indeed, half full...

As I passed Store A yesterday I realized that I was almost out of Wondergoop Z (the only product that actually makes my hair actually look like hair and not straw)...once inside, however, I realized that "Z" was no where to be found. Aghast I stopped a passing sales assistant and was told that my beloved Wondergoop had been taken out of production. They suggested Goop L...I thanked them but explained that I had tried Goop L previously and found it unsuccessful. They asked me to wait a moment and disappeared through a doorway. They returned and said, "we have three bottle of "Z" in the back...they were testers...they've been opened...but they've hardly been used". I asked if I'd get them for a reduced price (my frugal Scottish blood rearing its head)...only to be told that, if I wanted them, there would be no charge.

What really shook my inner curmudgeon was that not only was I given three, full-size, mostly unused bottles of my beloved Wondergoop Z but (in a show of customer service above and beyond the call of duty) samples of various other conditioners and hair treatments. Forget "half full"...my glass might actually be overflowing...

A couple of days of vaguely Fall-like weather shouldn't induce giddiness...yet...oddly...they have. The siren's call (aka the morass of jackets, sweaters, and other layering pieces lurking in my closet) is strong...only my last vestige of common sense meant that I actually left the house in something lightweight... Jacket - Heimstone, vintage t-shirt, dress - Anthropologie, lo-tops - Converse

There's something very Sloane Ranger...Princess Diana (the early years when she gazed up...like a chocolate box puppy...into the eyes of Prince Charles)...and spinster librarian about these loafers from Rachel Comey. And yet...they're also kind of cute...or am I still randomly fixated on the whole choccie/puppy thing?

All this talk of cost per wear has dragged my mind over to Golden Goose...Italian designers of beautiful (but gulp inducingly expensive) rough luxe. At first glance it's hard to believe that the outfit below would leave you $3,795 plus tax less well off once you passed the cash register (do not pass Go, do not collect $200)...lest you blame it on the fur, even if you remove the fox vest from the equation you're still looking at $403 for a plaid cotton shirt...$510 for chinos...and $488 for some pre-distressed hi-tops.

The shirt and the hi-tops I can't even attempt to rationalize...a plaid shirt being, well, a plaid shirt...and my own well worn pair of Converse treating me just fine (thank you very much). The chinos on the other hand...I'm on the fence over...I can't help but admit that they're excessively priced for a pair of cotton pants...yet...there's something about the fit...slouchy and relaxed...yet crisp...which I know few lesser priced pants could attain. Once again, the c.p.w. conundrum leaves me reeling under the weight of "52 weeks...divided by 2...times 3" computations...

Jacket - Phillip Lim, top - Dover Street Market, skirt - H&M, talon necklace - Erica Weiner, rubber riding boots

This is one of those random posts that really has nothing to do with anything but...as I have previously managed to kill almost every plant I’ve ever owned and...as I've nursed my tomato plant for several months now (daily watering, leaf plucking, moving into and out of the light as needed)...I feel an almost maternal pride at having actually assisted in the creation of a tomato. Of course, mothers don’t usually do what I did and eat their young...the upside of this cannibalism...junior was delicious.

I'm as guilty as anyone of throwing the old "cost per wear" rationalization out there anytime I feel the expensive purchase urge coming on...and I'll be the first to admit that the math doesn't always work...some items have made it out of the closet once, thereby having the worst c.p.w. ratio going. Others...like these chambray pants from Prada...get worn so often that I think I'm down to about fifty cents an outing. Logically...the math shouldn't have been right...pricy, pseudo-denim, vaguely 50's housewife, vaguely Humpty Dumpty pants are not "wardrobe staples"...yet I love them. It kills my inner nerd but, like I said, sometimes the math doesn't work...sometimes you just have to let the intangibles take control...

The following was so easy that I'm loathed to call it DIY...instead, let's just say it was a happy concatenation of circumstance which started when I stumbled across a vintage fanny pack...a sentence which I never thought I'd write as I loathe fanny packs...bum bags...any kind of bag that looks like a goiter on a belt. But, the f.p. in question was thin, structured, leopard printed ponyskin on the front, leather on the back and...most importantly, completely detachable from its belt.

Which left me free to track down some vintage brass chain...thread aforementioned chain through the belts loops on the back of the bag...and close the link with the pliers that have been sitting in our junk drawer, unused, for the past few years (self and any kind of home related DIY going together like oil and water).

The result is...a piece of the leopard love that I've been looking for...and another one of those bags that is inadequately small to use to carry the majority of things needed on a day-to-day basis. As a decorative, cross-body, extra pocket, though, it's perfect.

"The mind of a thoroughly well-informed man is a dreadful thing. It is like a bric-a-brac shop, all monsters and dust, with everything priced above its proper value." - Oscar Wilde

I constantly find myself attracted by fashion tsotchkes...the wearable equivalent of a figurine of Edinburgh Castle with Dayglo haggis romping around it...or a 2" high replica of Brussel's Manneken Pis...actually, in the interests of full disclosure, I did fall prey to the latter, and he is mock-urinating off our bookcase at this very moment...but I digress, back to the fashion tsotchke...because, while its tourist kitsch cousin may fall at the inexpensive end of the financial scale, the f.t. is usually horrifically over-priced (in the way that only something so completely useless and excessively ornamental can be).

The latest piece of f.t. to catch my attention...this Vivienne Westwood rosette...either (at least to my feverish mind)...an ode to the kind of political "Vote for me" ribbon that you could have imagined Margaret Thatcher wearing in her heyday...or a "Best in Show" award for one of Thelwell's punkier equestrians. The problem? The $75 price tag. Because, as is the concern with all tsotchkes, you let one past your defenses...you make the purchase...and pretty soon you're buried beneath a pile of bric a brac..

"As yet exaltest thou thyself against my people, that thou wilt not let them go? Behold, to morrow about this time I will cause it to rain a very grievous hail, such as hath not been in Egypt since the foundation thereof even until now." - the Bible

If this is summer, make it stop...excessively high humidity...monsoon-like rainstorms with accompanying crashes of thunder and lightening...and talk of hail later in the day...

I'll say upfront that I realize that this post could be taken as a case of "pot calling kettle black"...but that's not my intention...it just comes from the amazement that I felt when I read on the Times' website that people were paying to have themselves airbrushed in their holiday pictures.

Because...although I fall back on Photoshop to try and rectify the color (as my photos never seem to accurately reflect the actual hue of the clothes) or to increase the exposure (in the hope of getting some detail from a sea of black) of the photos that I take and use here...I don't see the point in trying to make myself look thinner or giving myself bigger boobs...as Popeye said, "I y'am what I y'am". The thought of doing that (and a whole lot more) for vacation pictures just seems exhausting...and a little depressing.

And...nagging away in the back of my mind...is the fact that the pleasure that comes from looking at old photos...my grandmother surrounded by dalmatians on the beach...Mr. Heb and I in Paris...dumb shots of animals at the zoo...would be altered if I knew that everything had been passed through some kind of "beauty filter". Though we increasingly publicize all aspects of our life...on Twitter, or Facebook, or countless other sites...we shouldn't forget that the life that we're living is ours...it's real...and it's the only one we've got.

"The vermine is a small black and white relative of the lemming, found in the cold Hublandish regions. Its skin is rare and highly valued, especially by the vermine itself; the selfish little bastard will do anything rather than let go of it." - Terry Pratchett

What "comes before a fall"...pride or Chloe boots? I ask because...having managed the inch or so of heel attached to my Russell & Bromley ankle boots...I am recklessly envisioning a future which includes Chloe's zipped and buckled beauties (and their three and a half inch or so heels). Realistically I know that after a few steps I'd topple over like a reluctant lemming going over a cliff...but I can't help but feel that, on the upside, I'd look pretty good as I went down...

I know that I haven't talked about many lower priced pieces lately...trust me, I was cursing the fact that everything that caught my eye was ruinously expensive too...then I found a little something on etsy...it was shiny...unusual...and five dollars and fifty cents.

And...though it's technically a "sign of the zodiac" ring...it immediately brought to mind the scene in Diamonds Are Forever where Mr. Wint puts a scorpion down the back of the diamond smuggling South African dentist...takes Mr. Kidd's hand...and strolls off into the desert.

Yes...I watch too many Sean Connery movies...and yes...I am this pale in August. The seller that I got this from has several other zodiac rings for sale...including some that weren't listed when I bought mine (darn it, now I want the lion's head as well)...if you want a cheap thrill, take a look.

As if the normal quirks associated with clothing sizing standards weren't enough I've discovered a new (and immensely irritating as it's so easy to solve) issue. When I ran into it the first time I muttered under my breath...when it happened again, I got mad. The problem? American stores that sell European clothing labeled as either a 1, 2, or 3...

Incident #1...

I visited the US boutique of a French clothing line...after "hello" the first words out of the sales assistant's mouth were part of a long (obviously pre-memorized) spiel going into great detail about why everything was labeled either a 1, 2, or 3...what that translated to...and (I'm pretty sure) injunctions not to panic over something so obviously insane as a piece of clothing labeled "1". Okay...I made up the last one...but I haven't received such detailed instructions about anything in a very long time. Even after explaining that I actually am European and have numerous articles of clothing that use this sizing method hanging in my closet I was treated like a size-challenged nincompoop. Needless to say, I left soon after...empty-handed.

Incident #2...

Happened yesterday. I had ordered Rika's Lou leopard blouse online...after being smitten by Rika's Fall/Winter lookbook...and, as you know, lusting after a little leopard. The sizes listed on the website were US and a note was made that the style ran "true to size". All well and good...until the blouse arrived. I'd ordered a size 8...I'd usually have bought a 6 but I wanted it slightly over-sized. What arrived was a European 3 (i.e. a US 10)...and a massively large 3 at that...had they listed it as 1, 2, 3 I would have ordered my normal size, a 2. Needless to say, the shirt is being returned...not exchanged, as I wasn't massively keen on the quality of the fabric.

I can't help but wonder though why US stores treat the Euro 1, 2, 3 this way. So many labels size in this manner...consumers are becoming more, not less, savvy...why treat them like idiots? In the two scenarios above both issues were related to information...way too much in #1...and too little in #2. I don't want to sound like Goldilocks but surely there's a way of getting it "just right".

I think I'm attracted to this necklace-bag hybrid for its practical impracticality (well, that and the abundance of embellishment...oh, that delicate fringe of chains hanging from it)...but, egad, the random flood of thoughts it's released inside my head...because I know that it's too small to hold more than some folded currency and a key...and even if I could ram anything else in there it would spoil the lines and concuss me if I tried to run...yet I virtually never leave the house with so little (even if I wanted to, I need two keys to get back in)...so I would only ever wear it as an over-sized necklace...but it's a lot more interesting than the majority of necklaces out there...and so it goes on...

Perhaps the easiest thing is to try a DIY version...or a tranquilizer...

"There is only one basic human right, the right to do as you damn well please. And with it comes the only basic human duty, the duty to take the consequences." - unknown

In general I find it difficult to go into raptures about "basics"...rationally I know that they're necessary...but, by definition, they're generally not terribly exciting and after buying them I'm left with a dissatisfied feeling (like buying milk instead of champagne, you know it's on the weekly grocery list but you'd rather save your pennies for a bottle of fizz). However, Acne's Sprait top counts as a basic that I can get excited about...a t-shirt-sweater-anti-twin-set in cashmere and silk...black with a nice mix of textures.

And, music to the ears of a basics cheapskate like myself, I managed to track it down online for 70% off. I've said it before (and, gosh darn it, I'll say it again)...if you find something you love, do yourself a favor and take ten minutes and search for it on Google to see who has the best price...I found the Sprait top on sale in several online stores...but the discounts ranged from 30-50%...which just wasn't enough (in my mind) to seal the deal...70% though was, basically, perfect.