Monday Morning

Hello lovelies, how was your weekend? Mine was bright, sunny, and a tad chilly - enough to make me climb into to bed at 6:30 on Saturday and nap before catching up on Jamie Oliver's Food Revolution (catch the flash mob scene in episode four - my roommate and I watched it about eight times).

Fortunately, I was able to steal some time in between reading Shakespeare's The Two Gentlemen of Verona and Les Misérables (in French - naturally, my French-English dictionary has been my pillow for the past few days) to come across this pick of the week:

I love the shape of this and how buttons are completely unnecessary. It's perfect for the in-between temperatures of April and May (in Chicago, at least). And the sleeves! Oh, don't even get me started on the sleeves. I would wear this in a heartbeat, barefoot, with a fresh citrus tank and some worn denim shorts. Shoes? Who needs shoes? It's a steamy 55 degrees in Chicago.

Have a wonderful start to the week!

[photo cred to simply photo]

Weekender

(We are all in the gutter, but some of us are looking at the stars - Oscar Wilde)

This weekend should be more enjoyable than last. I have creative writing submissions to tweak, Pilates tomorrow morning, Sense and Sensibility to finish reading, and a paper to subsequently write about it. Here are some links if you, like me, hope to snag some spare time:

- an endearing spin on videochatting, compliments of my favorite comic strip here.

- a lovely, calming photograph to begin the weekend here; mine will probably resemble this plus a pile of books, a laptop, and smears of printer ink.

- the most beautiful surprise wedding I've ever seen, with a "Recycled" theme.

- a sweet taste test, available in fantastic packaging. I'll have to hunt this down.

- a clever little lookbook featuring spring picks by Aqua.

Have a beautiful weekend!

[photo cred to melt into spring]

How to Wear a Romper

The secret to wearing a romper is this: make it so cute that you don't hate yourself every time you have to pee. Half the time, rompers make a person look as though she's been squeezed through one of those Christmas tree netting contraptions - completely inappropriate and generally frowned upon by any gentrified community. (I guess that this point, I'd might as well admit that I've always wanted to climb through one of them, so take my opinion with a grain of salt).
Let's have a little chat about this:
There are a multitude of sins about this romper. I don't even know where to start. This is no more than a glorified pair of long johns, right? The buttons, the awkward neckline, the disconcerting come-hither glare, the very questionable pairing of boots (BOOTS), and the camouflage shade of green that works to camouflage nothing - they are all available for purchase right here.
If rompers give way to such designs, why wear rompers in the first place? This is why:
You may be paying double the price of the other for this, but who can really put a value on dignity? The color is subdued, which perfectly offsets the cheeky feel of a romper, the draping is impeccable, and I LOVE the haircut. The shoes complement the material, making this piece (available here) ideal for a classy, delicate romp.

Sequins!

Oh oh oh, I love this so much. I could imagine wearing this on those days where I wake up at 10:30 in the morning, cut myself a slice of strawberry shortcake, and drink some tea with a side of champagne. Which actually happens all of the time.

I'm kidding. Of course I'm not twenty-one yet.

Here's the thing about sequins, though. While I am absolutely positively sure that this would flatter my skin tone, I tend to have a problem with sequins scratching my arms. By problem, I mean it drives me out of my mind. Secondly, it costs $495. I have approximately half of that sitting in my debit card account because a) my undergraduate writing career hasn't taken off, and b) I just love falafel, which doesn't happen to be a staple on college campuses.

The verdict? I would say that even if you do happen to have a spare $500 lying around, save it until the dress goes on sale. A sequin, rose gold dress, albeit a beautiful one, is not unique nor innovative enough to merit the price.

A Return

I had no idea that anyone read this blog; I try not to pimp it out on my Facebook because I don't want to become patronizing with it. But when I stumbled across it for the first time in months and saw recent comments, I blushed furiously.

Details of the moment: It is Easter, which means that it is April, which means that because I live several feet from one of the Great Lakes, my hair has reached epic Diana Ross proportions.

Ideally, I would've pulled off this cute number:

And oh, I wanted it so badly. I'm a huge sucker for the French "My hair is like this naturally" look. I struggled for about two hours, armed with a single bobby pin and two hair elastics, before realizing that my hair is about four inches too short. After crying for a while, I consoled myself by trying out a ballerina bun a la Charlize Theron, who is not French but managed to saunter her way into a J'Adore Dior commercial.

I'm not French either, and I also dabble in sauntering. Did it work? No. In my defense, did I have less than four minutes since I'd wasted two and a half hours on the other style? Yes. But this is perfect for those windy, humid days in Chicago; my hair won't whip into my face or reach a two-foot wingspan.

Happily, this correlates to the next post: hunting for a tutu. Why? I don't know yet, but I promise I'll find a reason.

In Vino Veritas

Listen, I've hated purple with a deep, fiery passion for a very long time. It was actually one of the big reasons I didn't not want to go to Northwestern, whose school colors are purple and white. Stanford's were red and white and not as... purple.

WELL.

It started with these.

I'd wanted the classic Ray Ban aviators, but even though I had everything in my favor (oval face shape.. this is all I can think of), I didn't even look like a recognizable mammal. It was awful. The saleslady scurried over and shoved these on my face, with an apology that they weren't available in any other colors.
They did not spontaneously combust, and when this failed to occur, I knew it. I actually liked the lavender and yes, the shape was much more flattering. So I let it slide.

But then (but then!) I arrived in Paris and camped outside of the Lanvin store. I quickly became irked, because while the Lanvin flagship has a wider array of the ballerina flats than Barneys, this does not mean that the Lanvin flagship has a wide array of the ballerina flats in the first place. There were no red flats to be had. If I wanted to stick with simple leather, I could choose from grey, purple, and black. I think you see where this is going. I'm partial to grey for some inexplicable reason, but I couldn't bear to pay 300Eu (which, by the way, is $150 cheaper than the same exact flats in the states) for grey flats. It's like subscribing to perpetual boredom. Then there was black. I would LOVE a black pair of simple leather flats, just hold on a second while I take my final vows of poverty and chastity. Right.
Of course, I ended up with the purple. After several hours of thought, I figured out that they'd match just about everything in my closet. Plus, as long as I'm trying to let my hair grow and feeling out my femininity (both recent developments), I'd might as well indulge in it.

I'm wearing both the aviators and flats right now. I am happy, and I think that that's saying something.

A Round of Applause...

...for Madina Park Boutique, which has won an award for Best Denim Selection from Hudson Valley Magazine!

I am standing at the store's cash register as I type and am currently surveying neatly folded stacks of Joe's Jeans, Citizens of Humanity, Hudson Jeans, J Brand, Rock & Republic, True Religion, and AG Adriano Goldschmied. My personal pick? The Amber high-rise bootcut in the Riviera wash, compliments of Citizens of Humanity.