Welcome, Winter

So nice of you to drop back in, I guess. We thought for just one moment you may have been taking a back seat this year in favor of more layering for the sake of layering not just for the sake of warmth but you did us wrong, Motha Nature. I told you that bi-polar hooker may mandate winter’s comeback at the drop of a snow flake. And while I spent the weekend radiating skin and what have you in Mexico it was somewhat debilitating to return home and get smacked in the vagina by a cold front. Vaginal smack, rough business. I’m just kidding though, it actually felt quite nice: I’m vibing rouge-tomate chic right now and a little cold is good for that. So here’s a little look at the happenings of my balcony on this fine Tuesday morning, where the limbs freeze like botox. I feared this outfit may have rendered irrelevant when last week summer swooped in but alas, wrong. Sweaters, turtlenecks, inconspicuous hair and the obligatory high five seem to be an appropriate outfitting method of choice again.

Turtlenecks, not just for turtles. Thumbs up, not just for Terry Richardson. Silver shoes, not just for moon men. Tassels, not just for nipples. Slits, not just for hookers–or a crafts project and finally, standing up right twenty six stories high: not just for birds.

Fupas, not just for mom jeans. La di da di da, look at me, I can’t see, la di da di da. I love movement and photos that capture it. My name is Man Repeller, bla bla turban. It’s a little bit pajama, a little bit convention, a little bit ethnic and a whole lot weird.

Vince turtleneck, Alexander Wang sweater, Asos pants, Alexander Wang shoes, Antik Batik clutch. And finally, here it is all together. This may actually serve as a sort of good lesson in living in New York, dressing the part–that is to say not experimenting with very much color that doesn’t fall on the black through white palette–and still repelling. You’ve got to admit there’s something very Christmas-at-grandmas about a sweater and turtleneck paired this way. Really though, you’ll have to admit it because I don’t do Christmas unless Jewdolph the culturally ambiguous reindeer says I could. Crickets, crickets. Me thinks I left my sense of humor in Mejico. At least it’s somewhere though. Rrrrrriba. Photos by Naomi Shon.
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