If Jane Birkin had an Instagram, we would definitely have followed her.
You’re chained to your computer and smartphone, I’m chained to mine, so let’s make the best of this fortresses — not prisons — and pretend we’re on a beach. Here’s a slideshow of photos of Jane Birkin with her main squeeze Serge in the South of France to properly re-position your sense of joie de vivre. Become one with her bangs. Ask yourself why you’ve not yet jumped aboard the straw basket-as-bag train and then remember that you’re on the train headed east to go apple picking. Get off that train and consider a pair of low rise flare-leg jeans. If there’s no sailboat in your proximity, I get it (there are none in mine, either) but lean against something, anything, and imagine the French Riviera’s breeze combing your hair into a mystical state of natural oblivion. Ask yourself what natural oblivion means.
Now take it back, I don’t have an answer.
Forget bras, eat cinnamon ice cream. Reconsider the ballet flat. Then fart glitter because Céline, my friends, is going on sale soon. Make a case for espadrilles. Ask your best friend to stop buttoning his or her shirt and understand that with great style comes the urge to shop. Give in with:
So many bags.
And crops! Then stripes!
And frivolity! Such necessary frivolity.
Now go home.
Want to keep shopping? These coats, while not for summer, are amazing. Oh, you’d rather drink? It’s kind of early but who am I to judge your timezone. Or just counting down the minutes until you can leave work? Pass the time with this.