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.

As my consumerism tends to swerve between "being good" and "being bad" I should probably just invest in these angel and devil shoulder pins. Perhaps a literal reminder may help me to be "good" more often...even if they don't work, how often do you get the chance to wear shoulder jewelry?

Last week was rather hectic...so it wasn’t until the weekend that I had the chance to sit down and mull over Gold Sphere’s comment on my tweed versus leopard coat post..."you already have a great leopard coat", she wrote...and, I have to admit, I do...vintage, 1980's, voluminous, plush, Emporio Armani...an amazing combination of cute and utilitarian in sub-zero windchills.

But...irrationally...even though I own the aforementioned lc...it didn't fit my current ideal (slim, printed or very little nap, femme fatale)...and was therefore passed over in my thinking. Realistically I knew it existed...I just didn't want to admit the fact to myself. Which is why GS's comment struck such a cord...there's always that elusive search for something that is close to what you own, yet slightly different. I suppose it's why some people end up with fifty pairs of jeans...or dozens of almost-identical t-shirts...or, in my case, a little bit of everything. There's the hunt for perfection...and there's the "I'll buy it now because it's close to what I want"...and much as I try to aim for the former I generally find myself veering wildly, like a drunk driver, towards the latter.

I'm getting better...thanks, in part, to taking the time to write own my wants, needs, and desires in this blog...but it's obviously something that is, you could say, a work in progress. Which means the leopard (a new leopard) has been removed from the coat wish list...and "something leopard" has been added to my clothing/accessories wish lists...an example of identifying the want...but buying it in a form that isn't currently lurking in my closet.

By this point you've probably picked up on the fact that I have a slight addiction to Liberty florals...and, it's also likely that you've been bludgeoned to the point of insensibility by my (sadly much more inexpensive) love of Hermès...so you can image the glee with which I danced round my apartment when I heard of a collaboration between the two...

If I was in London I'd probably camp out at the temporary boutique that Hermès is setting up in Liberty's scarf department...the lure of the design (an over-sized dressing up box)...the activities (providing the opportunity to amp up your scarf tying skills)...and, most importantly, the limited edition Tana Lawn scarves emblazoned with Hermès' Ex Libris logo...would be too much for me.

Sadly I don't have any plans to be in London on September 6th (when the boutique opens)...or at any point during its six week run...which means I have to put my trust in the internet Gods and hope that I can satiate two of my addictions online.

A fair number of disturbing, PR-related, missives hit my inbox...but the "dear God, why did you send this to me?" award has been won by an invitation to a 'Cocktail Party Shopping Event' entitled "How to Dress to Land a Millionaire". Few things have depressed me more than the news that, for three hours at Sak's Manhattan outpost, I could focus on "fun, fashion, and flirtation" and learn how to "develop a fabulous wardrobe day to night...the qualities millionaires look for in their partners...and...how to further develop (my) package".

I've never been so scared in my life. I know times are tough but is this really what we've been reduced to..."packaging" ourselves in a dubious attempt to marry money?

Personally I have a feeling that Saks may be the only ones coming out of this any financially better off...thanks to the $50 entry fee and hypothetical clothing sales during the millionaire-cocktail induced frenzy...though the information that 10% of the proceeds will be donated to Dress for Success suggests that someone has a sense of irony.

I'm going to venture into complete impracticality here...because, for someone who always manages to lug round twenty or thirty utterly unnecessary items in her handbag on a daily basis, a hard-sided envelope bag is about as impractical as you can get...but when the bag in question is made from shiny red lipstick-hued leather and suede...and comes with its own mirror and wallet nestled inside...and conjures up images of elegant femme fatales of days gone by...a girl can dream.

There's a one-eyed yellow idol to the north of Khatmandu, There's a little marble cross below the town; There's a broken-hearted woman tends the grave of Mad Carew, And the Yellow God forever gazes down.

He was known as "Mad Carew" by the subs at Khatmandu, He was hotter than they felt inclined to tell; But for all his foolish pranks, he was worshipped in the ranks, And the Colonel's daughter smiled on him as well.

He had loved her all along, with a passion of the strong, The fact that she loved him was plain to all. She was nearly twenty-one and arrangements had begun To celebrate her birthday with a ball.

He wrote to ask what present she would like from Mad Carew; They met next day as he dismissed a squad; And jestingly she told him then that nothing else would do But the green eye of the little Yellow God.

On the night before the dance, Mad Carew seemed in a trance, And they chaffed him as they puffed at their cigars: But for once he failed to smile, and he sat alone awhile, Then went out into the night beneath the stars.

He returned before the dawn, with his shirt and tunic torn, And a gash across his temple dripping red; He was patched up right away, and he slept through all the day, And the Colonel's daughter watched beside his bed.

He woke at last and asked if they could send his tunic through; She brought it, and he thanked her with a nod; He bade her search the pocket saying "That's from Mad Carew," And she found the little green eye of the god.

She upbraided poor Carew in the way that women do, Though both her eyes were strangely hot and wet; But she wouldn't take the stone and Mad Carew was left alone With the jewel that he'd chanced his life to get.

When the ball was at its height, on that still and tropic night, She thought of him and hurried to his room; As she crossed the barrack square she could hear the dreamy air Of a waltz tune softly stealing thro' the gloom.

His door was open wide, with silver moonlight shining through; The place was wet and slipp'ry where she trod; An ugly knife lay buried in the heart of Mad Carew, 'Twas the "Vengeance of the Little Yellow God."

There's a one-eyed yellow idol to the north of Khatmandu, There's a little marble cross below the town; There's a broken-hearted woman tends the grave of Mad Carew, And the Yellow God forever gazes down.

- J Milton Hayes

I have a feeling that I may be in the minority when it comes to my enthusiasm for these images from Aquascutum's Fall/Winter ad campaign...because, it has to be faced, anything that has the nickname "rat of the skies" is not destined for mass popularity. And of course...there's the side issue...if my vacation photos are anything to go by...that people get a tad squeamish when they see a pigeon on your head.

For me though, these pictures serve a dual purpose...allowing me to both covet the trench...and reminisce about pleasant times spent feeding the pigeons in Trafalgar Square...before the bureaucrats banned it.

When you think about it, discussions on 'age appropriate dressing' tend to be one-sided...focusing on mini-skirts, low-cut tops, and lycra...otherwise known as the key components of the bad girl school of dressing (you know, the popular one who cut class and smoked behind the bike sheds). You rarely hear anything about the pieces that scream actual school uniform...like this color-blocked cardigan from J Crew...a cardigan that I like...but which does kindle a few playground related memories.

What causes this lack of parity in the mutton dressed as lamb stakes? Or is "virtuous and scholarly"...oh, alright, and just a little nerdy...an acceptable dress code for any age group?

You can always tell when someone isn't forced to wear a suit on a regular basis...they're the ones who actually enjoy wearing them on the rare instance that they choose to do so. Not that this is a suit...more a non-suit...a jacket and pants united by a color and a lack of limb coverage... Jacket - See by Chloe, ribbon top - United Bamboo, pants - Prada, glitter flats - Me Too

A pre-Fall battle is currently being waged between the two sides of my shopping personality...which, for the sake of this discussion, we'll call the practical and the "ooh, is that something shiny over there?"...

Practical is discussing the merits of tweed...a very practical choice. Of course, if p. was being truly practical she'd point out that I don't really need a new winter coat at all...but there are levels of practicality and you have to be realistic about these things...so she bowed to the inevitable and started talking about tweed.

Her more whimsical alter ego, on the other hand, is pushing for something in a leopard...not the plush, faux fur kind...more the flattened pile of a vintage find...or a print.

The lines have been drawn in the sand...let the battle commence...

This bag struck me as very "vintage Prada"...except that it's "new Anthropologie" and, more importantly, 50% off. Of course, I'm not in the market for a tote right now...which tends to be the way of such things...you generally find what you're not actually looking for...

Not traveling...just thinking about travel...thanks to the airplanes on my bag. Travel sickness confirmed when a silk-screened plane gives you wanderlust...

Much as I love outfits one and two in the video...the simplicity of the first...the girliness of the second...I was left pondering one of life's little questions. How does anyone keep white ankle socks so blindingly white...especially when worn with open sandals...as they wander the wet, dirty, summer streets?

When I was a child...and, for some inexplicable reason, had a much better profile than I currently possess...my mother took me to a local department store where a very nice lady cut my silhouette, Victorian-style, out of black craft paper. I'm not sure why the store was offering this somewhat unique service...or why my mother decided that the rather funereal outcome was the perfect way to record my childhood (most people at the time, after all, being perfectly happy with a Polaroid)...but she did...and because I can look at them and reminisce about pudding bowl haircuts, thin turtlenecks, and retrousse nosed profiles I'm rather glad.

And, after stumbling across Daydream Nation's silhouette brooch, I can't help thinking how fun it would be to translate my paper memories into something a little shinier.

A certain blurring of the lines is taking place this Fall...in a back room someplace...the advertising boffins noticed all the blogs and streetstyle websites...and little lightbulbs went on over their heads...while not a ‘Eureka!’ moment I’m sure one or two cries of ‘Eek!’ were heard.

How else to explain the current fascination with advertising featuring either “real people”...like Anthropologie’s latest catalog...shot on “r.p.”s in Paris, London, and New York...or the DKNY Jeans ads photographed by The Sartorialist...featuring models but shot a la streetstyle?

The thing is, while I'm happy for the "real people" involved in this, I can't help but feel that I'm being patted on the head and given a piece of candy by Uncle Addy. They're jumping on a bandwagon...in this case, our shiny red bandwagon...and I don't think I like it. Perhaps I'm in the minority but, personally, I'm neither more nor less likely to buy something because the model is "real"...I'd rather look at the products...weigh up their quality and how they'll work in my wardrobe...and leave the "real" looks on "real" people where they belong...in the "real" world...every outfit uniquely belonging to the individual...not just another contrived, formulaic, advertising mechanism.