To a Bright New Year...

Ring it in with Chistopher Kane and a most large and in charge tribute to Pucci, they're practically a mask. (photo via Style Tao)

Very Important and Urgent Matters

But not urgent like I have to have my appendix removed, it's bursting everywhere, more urgent in the sense that my feet really don't need another pair of shoes, but I am still going to make a big deal out of finding this one pair and let it escalate into the alpha white-girl-problem. Where in the good name of Azzedine am I to find these fuckers from, gasp, 2008? 2009? They're in that unusual limbo whereby they're not recent enough to be found sitting up right on the usual discount heaven interweb suspects: Yoox, The Outnet and what have you and yet not old enough either to be rendered vintage. I tried eBay too and failed. This is important, people. Like, white dress important if you know what I'm saying, catch my drift, flirt with my lingo? I'll take any color, and squeeze my foot into a six, stretch it out to a 7.5, if need be. Reward if found. You can choose the reward so long as it doesn't include my sacrificing any of the children that will exit my womb--first alien through menopause. Shoes count as children too. No sexual favors either. That's unbecoming of a man repeller, more so of one engaged...in a relationship. Wow, pun parties shit on arm parties, who knew? This pathetic desperate plea to help me find these Alaia shoes aside, I'll have you know that my 2012 resolution is to spend less money on shoes, more on helping people without any. It's still 2011 though, so we have only approximately 45 hours under our belts. Run, run, go, go. Please? Happy new year.

Update: Like some sort of angel from a Parisian leather factory, reader Jada A. located the shoes at a Barneys outlet in Oahu, Hawaii. They were 70% off the sale price which ultimately left the initially very expensive $1800 shoes at $173. One hundred and seventy three. She went on to share a tale about a pair of $90 Balenciagas she'd scored days earlier. So, what do you say, collective migration to Hawaii or what? Thanks for all your help, you're like the sisters I never had. Especially you, reader Jacob. And happy new year again. Here's to moving forward with our resolutions.

Such, Such Were the Joys

  jacket and skirt: Rebecca Minkoff, shoes: Giuseppe Zanotti. Photo by Naomi Shon

Oh July, you were a good time. Someone somewhere is rolling over in their grave vomiting at the mere notion that I've named an outfit post after a George Orwell essay. Sorry. But this is less about boarding school and adolescent wet pants, more about departed joys like oh, I don't know, warm weather. I suppose we (George and me, duh) do have nostalgia in common. Ultimately though, I'm down and out. We have weeks and weeks and weeks of frigidness ahead. My toes are cold, layers thick, I can't even cuff my jeans with full intent. It's time to skip town. Glad to report a work trip to South Beach is on the horizon. Can you hear me, Miami? Bodycon nothing, potato sack everything. Man Repeller x The Webster, coming to a browser near you. And what with the mutual adoration for flamingos, it's going to be fly.

Thematic Repelling: New Years Eve

Out with the reindeer, in with the sequins. Sure, we live our lives like every eve is New Years Eve, but this week(end) in eves that are factually New Years Eve: well, what do you know, New Years Eve! As you can guess, getting back into the swing of writing still renders a little rough. Close your browser should you feel so inclined, I will take no offense. In any case, this particular year I had planned to throw off the masses, disregard sequins and instead dress up as, you know, the apocalypse or something of that more simple capacity. If not because it is a celebration--and I use this term loosely--of 2012 then most certainly because everyone else will be in sequins and we reject societal fash-norms. The plans changed last month when these pants fell into my lap, then in a seamless chain reaction, on to my legs.

 

 They're sequined, they're harem, they know how to party. This works because: paired with the proper armor on top, won't feel too contrived in the look-at-me-it's-new-years sense of that word. A sweater and blazer seem the decent solution here. It's New Years, so you want to get frisky, cue the silk blazer. It's January, so you're cold, cue the sweater. And if it gets too caliente, an over-sized and super loose tank under sweater will remedy the sweat marks. This repels because: 80 percent of the women in your radius will translate New Years to mean the sister of Halloween. Skirts will be short, shirts will be tights, heels will be high. And in that environment, you'll do yourself proud in your leg engulfing sequin-suit and the very same sweater you wore on Christmas at grandma's. It's a win-win, really. And your shoes rock. But ultimately, you know, it's all about expression, so do the inevitable and emote.

And when I say emote, I mean really feel 2012 creeping up.

necklace: DANNIJO, blazer: Alexander Wang, sweater: T by Alexander Wang, pants: thanks Calypso, shoes: Valentino 

Really, really feel it. This was fun. Okay, bye! All photos by Naomi Shon.

Oh, Herman

When in doubt, put a bow on it. Shoe clips by MR DANNIJO, photo by AB.

Vive le Neon, Vive le Tweed

At the risk of projecting self-inadequacy, does anyone know who makes this holy grail of tweed jackets? My hunch says Matthew Williamson but my hunch also once confused a Van Gogh for Chagall, so. Update: Marc Jacobs Pre-Spring 2009. In other news: honey, I'm home, and by home I mean back, because, you know, I didn't really go anywhere much further than Stanton Street over the course of the holiday weekend. I will however say that it was a nice mental vacation and even though I feel like a baby learning to walk writing this post because it's been a solid five days since I've last written anything, I did have some time to exercise my brain and start rereading old Gay Talese essays, surf Yoox to find some drastically and magically slashed shoe prices and perhaps most importantly: sift through the hilariously rad entries listed on site to win the YSL cyclops bracelet that I posted last week. I'm conflicted among three participants: one who insists her vagina has three lips, another who wants to bang Hannibal Lecter and one smart broad whose story involves a naive roommate, sick pigeon and parasites. These contests are a really fantastic way to gauge your strangeness: one participant confesses she used to eat play dough. Hey, me too! All the sudden, I don't feel so singled out--and I don't mean that in the Jenny McCarthy circa MTV 1999 sense of the phrase. I mean it more in the it-takes-someone-special-to-bring-the-funk sense. Finally, to divert attention back to the pinacle of this post: vive le neon, vive le tweed. Let's look up and salute Tommy Ton's Jak and Jil come back. Man I missed your photos.

Really Last Minute Holiday Gifts, Right This Way

 

We're really burning the proverbial midnight oil here but it's likely fair to assume that some people may still need last minute ideas. Hey, Hanukkah still has another five nights under its Menorah, so here's a collage of gifts, priced under $100, you know, short of that frivolously fantastic clutch, front row center, clad in charms. $1500 for a change clutch will likely leave you with just that: change, so call it wishful thinking and take a look around. Starting at top left I give you a polka dot piggy butter plate a la Jonathan Adler for the kitchen dwellers you know. A mustache shaped cork screw to ensure that every bottle of wine opened from this day forward is done with a hairy upper lip in mind. A Lanvin pen (at left) and an orange Smythson notebook (at right) for the writers who like fashion in your life. After all, orange is big for spring and it's the genuine thought that counts. A Mimosa scented Diptyque candle or conversely Hermes perfume to softly suggest the gift receiver in question stop drinking and take a shower, or a Pop Phone (top left) for the sweet hypochondriac, trying to eliminate any and all radioactive interaction. It will, at the very least double as the perfect fashion week accessory. Warby Parker sunglasses are the gift that gives back, and motorcycle gloves on sale at Intermix will make texting and keeping hand palms warm pretty stinking easy. On the jewelry front: Pamela Love's skull necklace (top right) because ironic as it is, every girl these days wants to jump on the Dias Muertas train, most particularly if it's bronzed. Some Derek Forreal pinky rings from the MR DANNIJO collaboration and finally to its left: a bone ring by Jennifer Fisher.  

Now, one final and very stealthy happy holidays to all: happy stealthy holidays.

Party Sequins, Not Just for Parties

sunglasses: Christian Dior, accurate adventure in copyright here.

And in that same vein, sunglasses, not just for sun. Holidays, shmolidays, today let's look ahead to the week after Christmas: eggnog-ed out, distant relatives visited, mistletoes unused. The pornaments, reindeer ears and in some cases ugly sweaters may get shelved while the mindset shifts to one of the sequined variety, but let's stop there for a minute. Some of us live every eve like New Years Eve, 200-TK sunglasses et al, but for those of us a little more refined and less enthused by thematic dressing, there's no reason to stack your sequins in that same sweater pile and stow them away post-new calendar.

bracelets: DANNIJO

Just make like a repeller andlayer. Without doing so, the dress falls in a slight body-con manner. Ultimately this yields no problem of the man repelling kind: the form fitting silhouette is masked by shoulder pads and, well, multi-colored stripes of sequins....everywhere. The perfect party dress, if you will. But say you need to go to the supermarket and just can't pry your body away from the shiny shit. Common problem, easy fix: plaid blouse. Not enough? That's nothing a wool-leather combo tailored vest can't fix.

dress: via Manish Arora, blouse: Etoile Isabel Marant, vest: Kimberly Taylor, boots: Proenza Schouler, bracelet: Jennifer Fisher.

See, like a tuxedo, but not at all. And if you're still feeling fickle about the overall result, construction style boots should throw you right back on track. An exposed white thigh does not come included, apologies should you find yourself temporarily without vision. Can I make it up by offering the gift of cyclops bracelet? All photos by Aram Bedrossian.

Holiday Giveaway Volume IV

Yves Saint Laurent arty oval bracelet, $340.

I'd accidentally set this live yesterday a la "Jig is Up" and for those of you who saw it, expressed excitement and then in the same breath felt robbed, I'm putting a stop to that roller coaster of emotion. Today in giveaways that make holidays rock even harder: Yves Saint Laurent's arty oval bracelet, from the folks at SSENSE. Because you deserve a gift. Just consider it a thank you for validating my existence. I thought about offering the better known ring version, but ultimately concluded that we come from a place of wrist-wonderment, so the bracelet it was. Even that aside though, using your Greek mythology-apt eye, it should be noted that the bracelet flipped may resemble a Cyclops. And that my friends, is reason alone to lust. But lust no more and instead just have it. Contest rules as follows: 1. Like SSENSE on Facebook but this is not to be confused with goatee clad DJ SSENSE. 1a. Like me too, should you feel so inclined. 2. Comment on this post once you've done so with your e-mail address attached and share your deepest, darkest secret (this could range anywhere from: one time I stole bubblegum from a mini mart to I have a perpetual yeast infection.) By next Monday at 5PM, a winner will be drawn and one arm will party like it's 1999. Here's to it being yours. Contest closed, congratulations lucky clover.

Trendsporting his Letterman Jacket

You could probably argue that this site was created on the premise that during inception time in 2010, women started taking an unprecedented liking toward menswear. It was ultimately nothing new in terms of fashion, but the capacity in which it was being done felt slightly more extreme: instead of just the typical boyfriend jean or oversized white blouse, ladies went crazies for wingtipped brogues, box shaped blazers, heck, I even bought mens underwear a few times. Call it investigative commitment. Or don't, they're just most comfortable. And while the trend continued to manifest itself in editorals and on runways, it found a small setback when ta da: 1950s lady gear--think full skirts and slim fit blouses--took it's "moment." Now though, we're starting to see a resurgence of the aforementioned menswear in an even sportier capacity. Baseball caps like chronicled last week, designers sneakers like it's 1995 again, and the letterman jacket finally means something outside the confines of holy man friend, my boyfriend rocks at sporting events.

Alexander Wang Fall/Winter 2010, Proenza Schouler F/W 2010. 

It's taken two and half fall seasons for the trend to finally resonate but if former runways, Junya Watanabe, Justin Bieber Prabal Gurung in Junya Watanabe, and the ultimate trickling of the trend into a mass-market retail system mean anything, the letterman jacket's moment will start right here. On an unrelated note, this past Saturday NY1 told me that "whatever" had been dubbed the most annoying word of 2011. Too bad they didn't poll phrases, "having a moment" would certainly have won.

 

Glad that's aside, now redirect your focus. Rag and Bone deserves air time too: this look is from a Fall 2011 show, just a season later, but still perfectly on time to win forecasting credit. But enough about runways, here's to real life. Blow find a small unprofessional collage of some of the better Letterman jackets, from Thom Browne to Target, I found while scouring the world wide web.

 

From left:  Thom Browne, East West, Target, Aritzia, Jane Norman. 

Forever 21 and Nasty Gal do make pretty decent versions too. But should you find yourself among the felines linked to men that rock at sporting events, go ahead and steal what he's got. Who am I to direct you otherwise? But regardless of the circumstance, do give it a try.

What I Wore: A December Eve to Remember

...Steve. Get it? This week in situations that make me go, "shit I meant to press Preview, why did I press Publish Post," I prematurely set live a giveaway that will reconvene tomorrow. It will be awkward because I'd spun it to coincide with the annual initiation of Hanukkah and also conveniently, my very own emergence from an enunciated womb. Those were a good nine months. In any case, sorry you have to wait, the payoff will be worth it. Here instead find a couple irrelevant photos where you will learn that even though I mandated I would wear a red dress with white t shirt underneath in this situation, good judgement swayed me in the direction of orange suede vest and bright yellow skirt. Really loud, really full, really cool.

Alexander Wang cropped suede trench vest, T by Alexander Wang muscle tee and yellow Miu Miu skirt magically won 50% off in store last week. Mike Biel for GofG. 

The setting: Viktor and Spoils at the Hotel on Rivington. The crowd: twitter handles in real life, I see @whitegrlproblem. The flaling arms: mine. I call this one, perfecting-the-girls-that-shake-it-with-their-hands-in-the-air-dance-move-but-failing. It feels too early to be emulating a stuff Jewish grandmother so I've concluded that my scoliosis does not permit swift recital of dance moves that involve heavy shoulder participation. And that's it, that's the whole thing. Ultimately, the lesson learned here is that holiday parties rock. How go yours and what the shit are you wearing? Tell me, I have to know.

And here are the shoes, should you wonder what my ankles were doing. (via)

An Event Recap

blouse: Sandro, blazer: Alexander Wang, pants: Rebecca Minkoff, shoes: Miu Miu

Yes, those are python patches on my knees. This gives me a great roller blade gear idea but let me flesh it out. Last week Vogue and Coach held an event at the 57th Street store whereby I sandwiched myself among the two brands and formally dubbed myself co-host. Shopping events like this one always equal big fat ball of fun, if only because of the two girls that stand alongside my alias and self in the photo above. Glad someone took that turband tutorial seriously. And in other news that rocks: Zara takes one for the team, ignores the fact that it will indubitably get sued for sartorial plagiarism and voila, produces Celine's most coveted pre-Spring blazer. See bowler hat lady at left. And Emily down south. But back to the event, while I can appreciate and enjoy Coach's effort to re-brand its ladies department and bring the simplicity of seventies chic back in a resurgence of the Coach Classics, the real wins here hail from the mens side. Leather bound notebooks make great gifts for the writers in your lives, green structured briefcases are the new totes and leather portfolios double as the most sensible run for Celine's version. And when I say that, I see in my head the notorious street style savvy clutches that were alongside every important wrist last fashion week. You with me? Maybe it's just not Phoebe's day. Maybe I'm jumping the gun.

bracelets: Coach, Pamela Love, Leivankash

Here I call this one: alpha vs beta, iPhone wins. All in all, a party well partied. And also, hey Emily.

Rain(bows) Squared

 

Neon Bow Set, $75, Yestadt Millinery for Of a Kind

So, rainbow-bows. I tried to create an exponent sized-two in that title but failed. Today in last minute gifts from or for the ladies you lurve: neon clips. They're like a revolutionized, more new-millennium friendly version of the butterfly clip, or more aptly: the essence of 1998, an early foray into man repelling. The general reaction to the departed clips, typically worn holding back hair from the front of ones head, was "what are you, an alien?" Very antenna-chic. That won't be the case with these though, which flee from Of a Kind. Maybe you remember the last time one of their bows tugged at my heart strings.This time, they come in a set of four, only forty sets were produced, and they are the shit a good hair party is made of. Wear them under a topknot, in some half up and half down confection or just, you know, strategically placed in different spots around the head. The next time someone asks what sorts of secrets your hair holds, take refuge in turning around and saying, "neon bowners, baby."

 Or clip them to your shoes, why not?

Untitled

Well! Look what Dropbox just, you know, dropped. It's premature sartorial ejaculation part two, I just couldn't wait. More on this soon, stay tuned. (via Naomi Shon)

Thematic (Repelling): The Birthday that Keeps on Giving

booties: Man Repeller x Six London. All photos by Naomi Shon

Yes, I'm consummating my relationship. But it's not like you stopped celebrating Christmas when your parents told you they were Santa Claus or like I refused to continue taking science classes at my Jewish day school when evolution tried to disprove everything I'd previously learned, so the Man Repeller finding a man that says shit like "I love that skirt over pant thing you do," and "if you wear those shoes I won't hang out with you, just kidding, I will, but please don't wear them," shouldn't really change all that much. Despite a gimmicky title, this is in fact a fashion blog. New finger party addition or not, I will never stop subscribing to a school of self. All the underlying Oprah shit you think I project: confidence, independence, loving oneself; really is there just not, you know, explicitly projected. This is a successful case of bad seeds out, floral prints in. So let's bury the hatchet, wear our drop crotches proud and continue forward with regular programming. My birthday falls into the former half of next week so for blog post sake, here's my intended part-ay outfit. Take this opportunity to draw your own conclusive inspo, wear it on your own birthday, to a holiday party, the supermarket, whatever.

dress: BB Dakota, t shirt: Etoile Isabel Marant, necklace: DANNIJO, booties: Man Repeller x Six London

But let me tell you something about these booties: caution when squatting. I don't know about you, but I'm a big advocate of the public lunge, so every now and then, I'll drop what I'm doing and give a little attention to my hamstrings. During a regular recital last week while wearing the boots, my ass was plagued with the kiss of Man Repeller, the shoe. So, should you find yourself in the same predicament, I suggest you keep your feet far away from any sensitive body part while wearing. Cut to dress.

 

I saw this guy on Shopbop shortly after admiring--and when I say admiring, I mean somersaulting in glee--the Carven pre and proper spring collections so figured I'd be a fool not to embrace the art of the cut out in a capacity that mandated I spend $100 instead of a billion and took the plunge. Pun intended on the plunge (-plie hybrid) as I seem to be doing just that in what is perhaps Naomi's most accurate and artful betrayal of me in ma'element. I know, I know, "and someone wants to get jiggy with that?"

Naturally my bizarro Carven score induced a victory dance seen far and wide down a New York City avenue and even across a river. But I couldn't let it go worn exposed cut out, so I did what I could given the short period I had between receipt and birthday to makeshift a sewn in something and added an under-shirt. The neckline was a debacle too, but no debacle an enormous necklace couldn't fix. All in all, an easy job well done in the comfort of my own balcony.

The most important lesson here though is: it ain't an outfit, it ain't thematic, it ain't repelling without some studs, the end.

On Baseball Caps and Their Moment

photos by Naomi Shon

Yesterday was perhaps the first time since high school, when I was forced to write about compelling subjects best left just re-read not written, that an uncomfortable and unstoppable wave of writer's block overcame my pee-wee brain. To combat it, I collaged a selection of Isabel Marant sneakers and asked the inevitable question: can I really say no to velcro? I hate to bring up Sex and the City again, this will mark the third time in four days, but I think the plague of writer's block was my stupid men as socks moment. And with that I'll confirm that I've most certainly become a parody of myself. Since then, I've had time to sleep and can perhaps deliver a slightly more meaningful post that, oh I don't know, may not deliver the gift of content to @whitegirlproblem.

...I should take that back, actually. As evidenced by the photos above, this is a story about baseball caps. And what happens when they make it out of stadiums and onto runways. I will comment and ultimately tell you to get one for yourself. So, let's get started where evidently, I just ended. You see, New Yorkers could have guessed that the Mets would perchance become good for something one day. Maybe we just didn't realize it would be marking fashion ground. Above you'll find two images from the Miu Miu and Givenchy F/W 2011 shows. I know, I know, what a faux-pas, I'm bringing in, gasp, F/W 2011 as evidence! These collections are marked down at department stores for heavens' sake! Still I trust that the manifestation of any Miu Miu (left) or Givenchy (right) trend can happily remain on...you know, trend, years, fine months, beyond it's time. And also, just to redeem myself: Timo Weiland did show baseball caps for Spring. Furthermore to redeem myself, I've built this platform based on the notion that every trend has a place and time wherever you decide to put it, (e.g. up your boyfriend's ass.)

 

I for one, am putting it on my head, on my balcony, in the present. The particular hat style in question is actually a double from the Miu Miu show. It is so pilgrim chic and because bows decorate the back end, fit so well alongside my aesthetic. I'd been waiting for markdown time on Net-a-Porter to obtain it and then like an angel from the sky, or a representative from UPS, it was sent to my doorstop from the folks at Shop it To Me. It's like they read my mind. It rained for three days so thus was the ideal head-ccessory.

sweatshirt: Sandro, pants: 3.1 Phillip Lim, necklace: DANNIJO, shoes: Jimmy Choo, hat: Miu Miu

Paired with thick satin striped purple pants that evoked fond memories of a. The Barney era and b. the days Adidas track pants were considered suitable--and chic--Saturday night attire, thematic dressing was in full swing. And, what do you know, above the track pants sits tucked, a fancy sweatshirt clad in gold sleeve. Now let's get back to the focal point of this story and think real hard on this closing question: Are you going to give the baseball cap a try? Tell me. I have to know.

The Holiday Giveaway For Your Feet

Loeffler Randall booties, $395. Photo by Naomi Shon.

I shouldn't play favorites but then again if I lived my life by shouldn'ts I likely wouldn't be wearing a bird on my head right now either so, today in what is perhaps my favorite giveaway yet--emphasis on the yet, next week is going to blow yo'mind-- iPhone app Pose, myself, and none other than Loeffler Randall are giving you the most rad raffia espadrille hybrid booties known to mankind. And I didn't even attempt to tackle the black piping. I speculate you're shaking in your space boots but before your heart falls into your vagina, there is a small hunch of bad news: this giveaway is only open to iPhone and android users who must download the Pose app in order to win. I'm no evil hooker though, and I'd never let the rest of you leave this browser empty armed, pun intended, so I've worked out an alternative giveaway on my Facebook page where you can win a sweet ass swatch to add to your arm party. In the last couple of months I've really started to subscribe to the school of Swatch. There's something playful and pretentious in no capacity about trading in a steel face for one of the plastic variety. I am particularly keen on the multi-color heart adorned ones. More on that another time, let's talk booties. Enter to win by doing the following: 1. take out your iPhone, open Pose. 1a. If you don't already use the app, download that shit! 2. Pose your hash-tag Outfit of the Day. Include #manrepeller and #loefflerrandall in the message. That's it! Voila! Confused? That's dumb. There are more explicit rules--sorry, rulez--here. May the best freak win.

The Great Isadebate

 

Among my few talents: creating hybrid words. And even so, the knack is being fine tuned. Now if the title makes little sense, don't beat yourself up. Your brain is not bird sized, my creative juice box is. What it's trying to says in simpler terms is this: the great Isabel Marant sneaker debate. Maybe you can at least commend me for knocking three words off of there. And on to the important debate...Yes? No? Maybe so? Remember Prada sneakers? How about those of the Gucci variety? And here I thought I'd never advocate the wearing of designer sneakers. Hey, things change, people change. Doesn't this tie back to that small point Charles Darwin one time made in passing about evolution? You know, obviously on a far less superficial level. I am particularly keen on the black version, dead center. Things I am also particularly keen on: allowing my wallet the chance, just the chance, to get a little meaty in the green depo. Do you read where I'm going? See the debacle? Understand the debate? Do the deed for me, flamingo freaks. Shall I sit this one out and take them to the court. Ultimately, I think the real selling point will be this: can I really and I mean really ever say no to Velcro and mean it? I think I just gave White Girl Problem a month's worth of material. Forget this ever happened.

Shoe Maketh the Repeller

And now, back to usual programming: Friday's premature sartorial ejaculation will now exist in real time and full. [Cut to post.]

sweater: T by Alexander Wang, jeans: Levi's, shoes: Alexander Wang

Sometimes (actually, I'd argue virtually most the time,) all it takes to really repel are the right set of shoes. I just read that aloud in a British accent and it was beautiful. I'll take this a step further (the initial sentiment, not the accent, though that wouldn't hurt either) and have you know I am currently clad in but nothing lest a white t-shirt, black exercise shorts and the ambiguous Miu Miu booties I still haven't decided to keep or return. I'm fickle, sue me. But never mind that, let's bring our attention back to the photos and literal walking dustbuster at hand. As you can see, in just a plain black sweater and jeans, I've been able to successfully halt traffic. Disregard the black town car, it defies the rules of the previous sentence, no New York license plate was present.

See what I mean otherwise? That is some grade A traffic-halting.

arm parties: DANNIJO and MR DANNIJO, duh. Photos by Naomi Shon

But let's delve into detail. The rules of this post may be slightly manipulated: while the jeans in question are fairly high waist and I am yet again emulating a urinating dog, there is something to be said about shoes making the repeller. It's not so much literal as it is a state of mind. Something feels inherently liberating about rejecting the inevitable discomfort almost immediately induced into a male onlooker and just running free, fur on foot. To again circle back to Friday's post and beat the dead Sex and The City horse. Through the six seasons fur shoes were introduced twice, seemingly as a tool to catalyst to fornication process. Carrie Bradshaw uses the aforementioned in season three to garner the affection of one very attractive European man and while the morning petals were deflowered, money was exchanged, that was less about the shoes more about the actual sex. Now let's fast forward to season five, when the shoes rear their hairy heads again while Carrie tries to alleviate the pain of poor bedroom circumstances, good relationship with none other than everyone's favorite: witty banter Berger. But try to remember that episode again, really try. When Carrie put the sex shop shoes on just after getting massively intoxicated with Berger on that night, he looks at her dumbfounded and falls asleep. Asleep! They don't do the dirty until the next morning, looking au-naturale, feeling pure, no shoe on any foot. The end.


Alas, with that very informative, hard hitting analysis on HBO subplots and character development, I now wish you a very happy Monday.

You're Invited

jacket: Carven, skirt: Isabel Marant, shoes: Giuseppe Zanotti, purse: Coach. Photo by Naomi Shon.

Partners, partners, partners-hip! This week in holiday events that will not give you FOMO (for the uninitiated or rather, un-New York eccentric folk: fear of missing out,) Vogue, Coach and Man Repeller convene at the Fifth Avenue store to indulge in champagne and leather wares. No, really, there's a green leather mens briefcase with our collective name stamped across it. Not literally stamped but pun absolutely intended. There will after all be complimentary monogramming happening on site. Here's also an obligatory note to mention that Vogue is also hosting a sweepstakes alongside Coach, you may find this interesting should you simultaneously find yourself unable to attend our slammin' n' jammin' event. click me. If you can, however, attend and that still won't lure you by, perhaps taking mental note that I may or may not host a macarena session will? May not most likely but again, it could happen. It's the holidays, let's do silly stuff. Like meet ourselves at crossroads and call ourselves 'the general' or whatever...photo to follow. See you Wednesday!

Weekend Preview

shoes: Alexander Wang, photo by Naomi Shon

Even though the supplementing images and commentary from this story won't go live until Monday morning, photos from the same school of sartorial freak have been laying dormant in my Dropbox folder for all of two weeks, waiting to unleash their crazy. And so alas, here you have it. What's a weekend preview without the kiss of red fur ball metallic caped shoe, anyway? Should you find yourself struggling to answer: nothing, a weekend preview is nothing without that aforementioned kiss. 'Tis the season, after all. It is at the very least a healthy dose of inspiration too. Nothing says happy place like a fur shoe that is most immediately reminiscent of a certain Sex and The City episode when we are introduced to a more diverse, multi-dimensional Carrie. One that is friends with international women of the night. High class hookers, if you will. (See: "darrrrling, it's Van Cleeeeeef and Arpels!") Are you still with me?

via Refinery29

In what is perhaps the best thing to happen to New York City since the Statue of Liberty, Sandro and Maje have finally set up shop on this side of the globe. See what I just did there? France! The Statue of Liberty was, durrrrr, a gift from just there and has arguably become the single most recognized representation of our city. Alas, it's time now we adopt another gift from the French and embrace the effortless and utterly chic nature of their innate style. Yes sure, we've seen a taste of it engulf our inhabitants via Isabel Marant, who has been carving a path since but two summers ago when the unanimous street style photographer's wet dream come true set up shop in Soho. Obtaining the I-don't-even-care-what-I-look-like-I'm-just-so-damn-chic though, has come with quite the hefty price tag, enter Bleecker Street and more popularly Bloomingdale's most prized new conquests. Still not cheap per se, but at least slightly more attainable. Now, earlier this fall, I worked with Refinery 29 to help celebrate the newly renovated Bloomingdale's which meant one thing and one thing only: vive le French labels. It's dangerous, really. See below.

The installment we composed came in three flights. Number one included a styling session by me, for me: several moto-silhouettes, combinations of bold color, and spiked details were involved.  

The second flight included myself styling none other than M-M-M-Molly, the superstar intern who can tap dance, juggle and trend forecast in one. She got the kiss of brocade pant, snake print blouse first, and then an awesome velvet figure skating dress worn over a dark denim blouse. And then finally:

 

Refinery 29's own Gina obtained her crash course in repelling which included the most rad pair of Rebecca Taylor leopard print wood heel booties on planet earth. I was particularly keen on layering a plaid blouse and leopard print sweater under a sequin embellished jacket (right). All in all, fun was had and that's always the ultimate goal. Should you want to, you can peep the full stories on Refinery here, here and here. All photos by Mark Iantosca.

From Vanessa Jackman

 

 jacket: Cut 25, dress: Ermanno Scervino, shoes: Dries van Noten, purse: Proenza Schouler, sunglasses: Lookmatic

 

And on that note (that note being today's earlier post), find here a couple old photos from Fashion Week that just surfaced on Vanessa Jackman's street style blog. She's got a way with that lens, I'm glad I fell upon it. I know, I know, you've seen this outfit already. Get with it, Man Repeller! Is spending all that time infront of a computer screen killing your braincells? Maybe so, but that's not why I've posted these images. No, no. This post is more though just another ode to summer style. My fingers are frozen and man I miss a warmer climate. Even more than unknowingly wearing too-small-for-my-face-sunglasses. I speculate this is a problem Marcel the Shell will never know. And if you ask me...that should be it's one regret in life. That said, here's another chunk of proverbial food for...literal thought: there's something unusually un-douchey about posting an "oh-my-God-are-you-taking-my-photo-I'd-have-never-guessed-wave-and-walk-wave-and-walk" photo when it's taken by a photographer not your own. And I'm pretty sure this is a prime example of exercising just that: you know, the wave and walk. Go ahead, unfollow me. I get it.

A Lesson in Layering that Ends with a Gift

And I'm not just talking about the metaphysical gift of inspiration, that's lame ass and I don't mess around. This is a real hard (literally, it's pretty structured) gift. Let's just call it, Holiday Giveaway Volume II. But you can indulge in those details later. Right now is about layering, again. I speculate these posts no longer require much an introduction, so I'll just jump in and share the theme: embracing darker colors and a more monochromatic mode of living while still unleashing the evident repeller now not even manifesting within you all, just plain old and out there and running, running and out there. Freak flags, they are a'flying. Here are the steps.

 tank: The Reformation, pants: J Brand, booties: Alexander Wang

I guess this may also serve as an installment of: Man Getter to Repeller. Because utilmately, (unanimous) man likes nothing more than tank and jeans on woman. Reasoning is simple: the male psyche isn't all that different than that which he consumes (I'm still trying to make out whether this makes sense outside the confines of my head.) He's simple, so he likes things delivered to him simply. We as women, are complex and so we relish the prospect of multiple layers, prints, intricate details...you know how it goes. In any case, so much revealed thigh and shoulder makes me massively uncomfortable.

blouse: The Kooples

So a mens style button up cleverly equipped with obligatory Peter Pan collar renders the only plausible solution. Cover that thigh and shoulder, it's a two for one deal. But it ain't over. 

sweater: The Reformation

No, no, that would be too easy. So here find the most comfortable sweater I own. I'm pretty sure it's menswear, which, you know, makes it all the better. Naomi said I looked like Alexa Chung in this shot and for that reason alone, I almost--keyword almost--stopped layering here.

skirt: Miu Miu

But I'm an overachiever now, and overachievers don't stop at any cost, enter my new favorite trend the skant. Reactions to this trend are still ambiguous, but I'll just come out and say it: I fucking love it. I've reached a point in my life when I whole-heartedly ask myself on the daily while dressing: what good are pants without a peplum? No good at all, folks. No good at all. And now, in a final step:

shoes: Sergio Rossi, necklace: DANNIJO, clutch: Wanderlust + Co

Accessories conquer all. Nothing says reluctance to-commit-to-trend like a sweater, jeans, and structured clutch. It's my most favorite form of underrated thematic dressing. Please also find stapled to my feet my most notable Black Friday conquest. Sergio Rossi shoes most remniscent of a certain Black Swan who had evidently, lost it out to the proverbial white swan because, you know, they were sixty-five percent off, plus an additional twenty for Black Friday. That loss was my gain. And again, you can't out a price tag on an epic gain.

I just can't stop looking at them! Feathered ankle cuffs are the future.

all photos by Naomi Shon

And now for the fun stuff: Holiday Giveaway volume two in cahoots with everyone's favorite: Wanderlust. While they may be the official enablers of allowing oneself to host an arm party on the cheap, they do run a fancier operation too; cue the cocktail clutch. There are very many variations but ultimately, I selected the most fun and colorful one to match our souls. This little dude retails for $349 and adds an interesting quirk to oh, I don't know, everything. But enough about that, win it! The rules are typical: 1. Follow Wanderlust on Twitter, 2. Like Wanderlust on Facebook, 3. Do the Macarena, 4. Comment on this post with your twitter handle, Facebook name and let me know at which point your back went out during the requisite Macarena recital and finally, 5. Follow me on twitter, too. Because we will announce the winner, winner, chicken dinner right over there come Monday at 12PM. Contest closed, congratulations Kelly Boaz!