Which could effectively also work as a pun called, “The What I Wars,” but I don’t like to compete, especially when the competition in question’s adversary is myself. I’m not even sure how to preface this post. It is a very dark and narcissistic moment to find yourself googling your own name and scrolling through the images to wonder how many from the previous days you can find. It reinforces the theory that google search bars are more private than underwear drawers and safety deposit boxes. I’m not proud of it but…ask and ye shall receive.
Scrambled together in the above and below, photos I collected from around the web for your viewing pleasure. Some are good, some are awful but mostly they’re just, I don’t know, me. Above: leaving Theyskens’ Theory. Maje t-shirt, Ostwald Hegalson skirt, Rebecca Minkoff sunglasses, Jennifer Fisher necklace.
Irony, oh irony. When I saw this shirt at American Apparel I laughed and rolled my eyes and did this weird thing with my tongue that tends to signal confusion before I yanked it off its hanger and took it toward the register. Part of me felt like a drug smuggler, but most of me recognized the silliness of this shirt–obviously, we don’t all post the same stuff–even though I did hope I’d find several variations of these photos that were taken on Tuesday to write a story called “I’m So Irreverent, What’s Up?” Black and white graphics look great with anything. A double cheers if the graphics in question muse funny or at very least, controversial things.
Meanwhile at Lincoln Center–a spot that has unquestionably become its own parody of fashion week–more a tourist attraction and haven for aspiring street style starlets to have their “moments,” than the original epicenter of shows: a Marni skirt, Proenza Schouler clutch and Dannijo off-the-hand-chains. Maybe you remember the Preparations video. Holding on to my clutch and wearing lots of accessories in Tommy Ton’s peripheral does work.
Outside Rag and Bone (where 309 West 33rd has professedly become the unofficial hall-de-Fashion-Week hosting Theyskens’ Theory, Phillip Lim, Rag and Bone and Edun this season–I don’t mind feeling so close to my mail, there’s an enormous post office on 8th Avenue.) The skirt here is Rag & Bone, the cropped top is Miu Miu, the hand-chain is Mark Henry and the lucite clutch I am certain I won’t lose is Reece Hudson.
Meanwhile, by Yigal Azrouel, I’m just minding my own business, crossing a street because people are telling me to, regretting my decision to wear long sleeves on a 90 degree Friday, contemplating the previous athletic nuns and enjoying thoroughly, the birds of paradise creeping up my legs. Though it don’t matter, I fucking loved this outfit. Heat aside, it’s comfortable. Isabel Marant tee, Rebecca Minkoff pants, Jennifer Fisher necklaces.
Oh baby, here’s me twice. That’s going to happen running down. At left: Givenchy tee, Marni skirt, Alaia heels. At right: the sunglasses are Ralph Lauren but you already know everything else. Everything. Everything. Everything.
At Rachel Comey at left, a Steven Alan blouse (I fought with my per-man-friend over it. It’s his, which should in effect mean mine which he did not understand but now does,) Cut 25 shorts, Isabel Marant heels and Shipley and Halmos sunglasses. At right: American Apparel tee, Christopher Kane x J Brand pants, Dannijo necklaces and Ralph Lauren sunglasses.
Finally, I wore this dress twice, conceivably the same way, because, well, look at it. At left at Tibi and at right celebrating the relaunch of The Cut. Tibi dress, Equipment blouse-around-waist, Altuzarra heels. At right: Brian Atwood heels and an American Apparel denim shirt. That bag is Valentino.
Photos via New York Magazine, Style.com, Vogue.com, Zimbio, Harper’s Bazaar, Streetfsn, Elle, Fashionista.com. Happy birthday!