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Perfect summer handbags by Mayle.

photos: lagarconne.com

Is it Friday yet?

I'm going to see the Kills at a bar in Philadelphia in 5 days. This week is going to feel very long..

Saturday

My new, perfect spring jacket from H&M (not very flattering with hands jammed in pockets) and The Aldo Shoes, which I would never have known about if I didn't obsessively read Fashion Toast first thing every morning!


I've had pretty much the perfect weekend morning: coffee with BFF, leisurely thrifting (okay, it wasn't so leisurely in the denim section), and a stop at a forgotten nearby magazine shop. Picked up a few discounted back issues of Vogue Italia, and an outfit I just might wear out for drinks tonight with some girls from work. Inspired by the first look from Alexander Wang's Spring 2008 show, I found a slightly oversize grey and white railroad-striped Perry Ellis blazer, a white tunic-y sleeveless top, and perfect men's Wrangler cutoff shorts. Oh, and a pair of AG jeans, in my size, for $5.95! They were the very first pair I even looked at, which then led to frenzied flipping through what felt like a quarter-mile of denim. I had to work fast, as I was closely tailed by a lurking hipster, double-checking every pair I put back on the rack. I knew if I slowed down, she would lap me and undoubtedly find the awesome stuff before I could.





(Sorry for including the jeans pic, I know it's just a plain old pair of jeans..but they're AG and they were six bucks!)

Sick.

I need to own these, as immediately as possible. They are quite possibly the hottest, sickest shoes I can afford. That don't need to be purchased at a drag shop.

photo: bakersshoes.com

Summer essentials.

The collection of summer clothes I am stockpiling until it's warm enough are hanging, waiting in a storage spot at my mom's house..alas, the tiny closet (yes, singular..closet.) in my apartment still bears an array of long-sleeved and warm garments for these weird in-between weeks. Once it's officially May, they'll be hauled off to Mom's attic, and I can bask in the splendor of suede gladiators, fringy bags, sloppy cutoffs, and skirts. I'm planning a thrift-store raid for some floral dresses tomorrow..the doctor I'm assisting only has patients scheduled until 3pm, so I'm looking forward to a leisurely afternoon.

Dearest Marc Jacobs

I love Marc Jacobs. I always have. The first MJ bag I ever laid eyes on was a white leather Stella on eluxury.com. I was smitten. My poor mom listened to many a dinner table discourse on that bag. Right before Christmas that year, she happened upon some unexpected cash. Rather than replace the ancient, dying, oil heater in our basement, she bought the Stella bag, knowing I'd treasure it always (and never, ever forget such a selfless gesture. I so heart my mom.). I think I cried Christmas morning.

I came close to tears the first time I went to the Marc Jacobs boutique on Mercer Street and held a pair of pastel suede ballet flats. I was knee-deep in Footwear Design classes at FIT at the time, and so I instantly appreciated the beauty and craftsmanship of the exquisite, delicate shoe in my hand. They were utter perfection.

Through interviews, Myspace photo albums, and the Marc Jacobs and Louis Vuitton documentary, I've come to love Marc the person, as much as the designer. His interview in the May issue of GQ brought my adoration to a new high, particularly a quote which so perfectly echoes the sentiment of most of my Catholic school experience: "When I went to sleepaway camp, I just kind of wanted to sit there and make an ashtray or do a lanyard necklace or paint my jeans," he says. "And then to stand there and not be chosen for a baseball team-it's like, force me to do something and then don't choose me to do it. Okay, what am I supposed to enjoy about that process? How am I supposed to feel good about myself with all that going on?"

Nerd love, Marc. <3

photo: WireImage

An Epiphany

This past November, I spent two life-changing, mind-altering weeks touring France, my first time abroad. The first four days were in Paris, absolute heaven. I was familiar with Carine Roitfeld, and innately knew she had to be cooler than Anna Wintour (everything French is just better), but I had never actually picked up an issue of Paris Vogue. Finally doing so for the first time in Paris, I was quickly enamored. Head over stilettos. Upon returning to (gag!) New Jersey, I immediately gave up my American magazine habit, save for Nylon and Elle (but only since they've brought in Joe Zee as creative director. Remember Vitals?) and the occasional GQ.

Now, I was hesitant to investigate Vogue Italia for a few reasons. One, I am an admitted Francophile, completely obsessed. I prefer France over my own country, why would I ever even think about Italy? Also, to be quite frank, Anna Piaggi and Franca Sozzani..well, they scared me. I never thought I'd enjoy anything those two crazy-looking broads could put in a magazine. Then I saw the Paris Vogue piece on Giovanna Battaglia, of L'Uomo Vogue, and decided it was time to branch out into other international fashion publications. Apparently, the less Anna Wintour-esque, the more interested I've become. So, I couldn't find L'Uomo Vogue, but I picked up Vogue Italia and hauled it off to coffee yesterday morning with my most stylish guy friend. While marveling over the "Iconic Women" cover with Natalia Vodianova, shot by Steven Meisel, I couldn't help but scoff at American Vogue in its most recent incarnations. "Anna Wintour would NEVER put something like this on the cover. Look how beautiful this is," I said to my friend, unfurling the three-page spread. He nodded, "I love that it's a ton of really nice Photoshop work and not, like, Marcia Cross in a fancy dress." I couldn't have said it better myself! :)

A Love Story

I first fell in love with these Balenciaga boots when I saw the A/W 2007 slide show on style.com the day after they were shown in Paris. I fell harder when Vogue used them in an editorial referring to Stevie Nicks' style for their annual Fashion Rocks supplement.

I was prepared to add them to my list of unrequited loves when I found out how much they cost, but then I came across a photo of Erin Wasson in the closed-toe boot, admitting they were not the real deal.

(from style.com: Her shoes attract some compliments, but she's not trying to fool anybody. "I got these on the street for like $50," she says. "This ain't no Balenciaga shit.")
I googled and stalked the boots until I found them: Jeffrey Campbell, and a boutique in Atlanta, Georgia still had them in stock for under $200! I was briefly disenchanted by a horrible Bebe knockoff; more so when paparazzi photos surfaced of Hilary Duff picking up coffee wearing the Balenciagas.


Everything changed when yesterday I realized I hadn't wandered over to the Steve Madden website for a while. I'd like to be a fashion purist and lash out against "designers" who leech off other designers' creativity and hard work, but alas, my salary won't permit it. I am a big fan of affordable luxury, and my overactive imagination (activated as a young, only child) allows me to fool myself into thinking that the look translates. Despite my footwear design instructors at FIT railing against the construction and anatomical-correctness of Steve Madden shoes, I've amassed a bit of a collection: the red leather, wooden-wedge, t-strap maryjanes a la Chloe, the purple leather, platform, multi ankle strap/buckle boots in the manner of Miu Miu..

..and very soon, the black, open-toe, open-heeled, lace-up, double-buckle Balenciaga-style boots!


And we'll live happily ever after. The End!

photos: style.com, bebe.com, stevemadden.com

I am not a scrapbooker, but..

I've had a long-running love affair with those Mead marble composition books ever since I left FIT.* For years, I've compiled magazine clippings into these "fashion scrapbooks". Anything and everything that catches my eye goes in: a handbag, a shoe, a pant, a blurb about a designer, ANYTHING. In the beginning, it was die-hard, fashion only. As I'm getting older and a little more domesticated, the content of my notebooks follows: a teapot, a recipe, eco-safe cleaning products. It's kind of like utopian, make-believe magazine editing. None of my coworkers seem to enjoy or understand my compulsion (I mean, we work at a huge ophthalmology practice. New scrubs are exciting here!), so after weeks of obsessively checking (and reading full archives of) other peoples' fashion blogs which I've just discovered (I'm in love with Rumi, of Fashion Toast, Lulu, of Everybody is Ugly, and Agathe, of StyleBytes), I decided my logical next step was to take to the blogosphere.

*Like, SIX years ago. And by 'left' I mean 'was academically dismissed from'. That's right, too cool for school. In my defense, as an Accessories Design major, I wholeheartedly considered it research to skip class for a trip to Marc Jacobs. I guess the dean never heard of "Independent Study?"





[Pardon the crappy photos of pages from my books. I'm in negotiations with my mom to move her scanner to my place. ]

Hmm..

I wonder how the Kills feel about their song "Sour Cherry" having been used for a Gossip Girl commercial. Obviously they had to approve that, right? They've come a long way from no money and no food, squatting in a shitty apartment, wouldn't you say?