It’s that time of season again. Something you should keep in mind while clicking and scrolling through the above and below images is this: in order to accrue the aforementioned images, I had to spend considerable time on google and Pinterest, typing in my own name to the search box and watching the results infiltrate my page. If ever I try to argue that unlike my millennial counterparts, I am not a narcissist, please hit me over the head with that beacon of information. Then pull my hair out, one strand at a time.
Kidding, please don’t do that. But I digress.
While I’d argue my clothing is becoming sufficiently less interesting to watch with the progressing Fashion Week seasons (this may or may not be the subconscious – or fully conscious – impact of the prolific New York Fashion Week circus story of February), maybe noteworthy is paying attention to the trends I’ve adopted as my own. For example: white – lots of it. A generous helping of ripped denim that I refuse to let go away. And, of course, some version of the notorious FUPA shorts, in the instance chronicled, set in a stiff leather so thin, the slightest bend over will result in a rip (as evidenced by the slightest bend over and largest rip) which even more keenly asserts the former nickname, but I guess you had to be there? Lucky for you (me?) you’re here now.
At left you’ll find me mini stepping toward the Ralph Lauren show in Sally LaPointe shorts and a blouse, Balenciaga brogues and Reece Hudson bag. At right, my steps are better distanced from one another while I wear a Rosie Assoulin top and JNCO inspired jeans, a Valentino purse and Dannijo bracelets.
The photo at left is from the day I departed from my home thinking I was a pilot. When I stepped into a cab, I realized that was not in fact true but it was too late to turn back. I’m just glad that at no point did anyone asked for my help flying a plane, knaaamean? At right I’m wearing an embroidered Anhha blouse and skirt. I’ll be real — the set was sent to me but I just fucking loved it. The pumps are Manolo Blahnik which – and I’m not sure if you know this – come in 463281 different heel heights. Always opt for the highest. The highest.
This is from the day I thought it might be funny to pretend that I am Tom Cruise but only his Risky Business-induced heyday. In a Christopher Kane dress and Prada heels, I think I done okay. The choker is by Anneliese Michelson. At right, I’m wearing a Thom Browne top and skirt, Blk Denim leather jacket around my waist and Valentino heels.
And finally, here’s a double douche-bag score for you! Wearing the Givenchy score from Yoox, an Acne muscle tee, a B-Low The Belt belt (a nice contender when held up against any plain black Isabel Marant belt), Asos jeans and Brian Atwood heels. I bought the sunglasses from Loehmann’s, they are Prada and it just occurred to me that somewhere toward the end of the week I developed a proclivity to wearing my handbags messenger style — more in that later.
So, are you sleeping yet?