Archive for April, 2012
Buzzfeed has posted these fantabulous pictures Hello Kitty Airlines, which is part of the Japanese company Eva Jets, and life feels like it’ll be nothing but Saturdays from now on. I’m high on a thousand cupcakes. Bathed in the light of a million rainbows.
True, Japan has already broken the twee barrier by bringing us Hello Kitty Star Wars Storm Troopers and Hello Kitty Maternity Hospitals, but this feels like a real game changer. Just imagine the delight that would be check-in.
The notion of grown women obsessing over a cartoon kittycat with no mouth should probably offend my feminist sensibilities. But how could one possibly begrudge the world this giant flying antidepressant? (Or its manic, wackadoo website? Skip it and you’re only hurting yourself, people.)
Considering the fact that it’s so key to the success of so many outfits, a really nice, unadorned silk cami that doesn’t cost a ton shouldn’t be too hard to find. And yet. I need a few to get me through the summer, and have been searching madly and—as is so often the case when one is out on a very specific retail mission—failing at every turn. Eventually I just let go, hoping that it would soon just come to me—like how you locate your keys the minute you stop obsessing over where you left them. And so in fact it has: this one from J. Crew costs $50—not particularly a bargain, but plenty reasonable. And comes in nude too, which is huge.
My friend Alison Nelson, who is both proprietress of my corner coffee joint/office-away from-home Chocolate Bar and as cute as humanly possible, was wearing the nicest lip color when I popped in today. It was sheer and not too shiny, in a very flattering shade of pink—which is to say, the kind of very subtle pink that makes those afraid to try pink feel emboldened to give it a whirl. Turns out it was Fresh Sugar Passion Tinted Lip Treatment, which I’ve got the plummier version of lying around here somewhere, and which I can therefore attest is as un-goopy and hydrating and SPF-15-having a lip balm as one could ever hope to find.
The Cut notes that Bazaar Espana put 56 year-old actress Angela Molina on their cover. Oh, to be the editor of a European magazine, where print runs are tiny, nobody gets all worked up over newsstand sales numbers, and one can take the occasional interesting risk!
Styleite’s got pictures of Kate Middleton looking all fashiony in Matthew Williamson at a Disney movie premiere last night. Rather sporting of her, given that he once sniped that she was “not a fashion bunny.”
Why America Hates The Guys in Corporate, part #287: according to The Mary Sue, CEOs of some of the biggest cinema chains in the country are taking the idea of allowing people to text and talk on their cellphones during movies quite seriously. Do the rest of us get to bring stun guns?
And from the Jane Dough: this rundown of poorly behaved heirs to large fortunes, which is alternately horrifying and gossipy good fun.
Jezebel notes that a high school girl got banned from her prom because she didn’t have a date. One scarcely knows where to begin.
Entertainment Weekly runs down movies too un-PC to be made today, and and the list includes Taxi Driver (teen prostitute), Blazing Saddles (racist sterotypes) The Jerk (see previous) and The Bad News Bears (kids drink beer). To which I say: how could you forget Pretty Baby?
I like Isabel Marant as much as the next girl. One of my favorite bags of all time is an Isabel Marant bag, and I do not regret for a moment having spent a fortune on it. But it’s criminal what she gets for some of those little cotton ethnic tops of hers. I knew there had to be a better option out there.
So I contacted the first person I always do when I’m looking for anything bright, ethnic, and authentic: My dear friend Elise Loehnnen, who moved to LA last year run Beso (and its very shoppable blog), and who I miss desperately. She sent me a link to to La Mariposa Imports, which led to the discovery of this rather winning hand-embroidered blouse.
And this one too, which falls just short of perfect due to a higher-than-ideal neckline, but is still pretty damn charming. It’s got that contrast-y thing going with the stripes and the pattern, which I seem never to tire of.
For somebody who went to college back when only people whose thing was computers had computers in their dorm rooms, I’d like to think I’ve been pretty fine with the digital world coming along and changing everything. Because obviously—putting aside the whole loss-of-privacy issue—it has changed so much for the far, far better. I love my iPad, and the wonder that is Spotify, and ordering a book and having it just appear, like magic. I have even become—somewhat to my horror—one of those people who prefers texts and emails over actually calling a person on the phone, which now seems as forward as dropping by a friend’s home unannounced.
But at the core I am, and shall remain, analog. I like writing things down on paper, for instance. Things like grocery lists, or the name of the book that a friend has just mentioned, or somebody’s email address (unspeakably un-modern, that last one). I also write things down because I am at that age when you just start forgetting things—sometimes quite important things. And I write all of these things down on these absolutely itsy soft-cover notebooks, which I carry with me always, like a middle-aged version of a blankie. They’re super-lightweight and literally the size of the palm of one’s hand and come two to a pack and in a ton of different colors (I favor the yellow and vaguely Hermes-ish orange; so easy to spot in a jam-packed handbag).
I’m always up for a good did-they-or-didn’t-they plastic surgery feature, like this one from the Daily News. And I’m always surprised to see somebody like Cindy Crawford—who can afford the best and presumably knows who to ask—with a face full of really bad botox or fillers. When you’re Cindy Crawford, you need somebody who, after a sufficient number of injections, thinks, This is Cindy Crawford’s face; I’d better not fuck it up, then puts down the needle and calls it a day.
British Vogue threw a big New Yorker-style festival in London over the weekend at which, according to The Cut, there was no shortage of notable moments.
- A famous model said, “Come on guys, it’s better to be skinny than to be fat,” and didn’t stop there.
- Stella McCartney revealed herself to be pretty funny.
- Tom Ford, usually such a gentleman, was a touch impertinent.
- And Burberry’s Christopher Bailey, who always seemed pretty charming, came off quite well. Always nice to know it’s not an act.
Also: if you’re interested, British Vogue’s website has a fun and rather lengthy street style slideshow from the event. And I like this shorter one from The Guardian too, because they captured a kind of fascinating—much more real world—cross-section of Fashion Followers.
Recently, I made an editorial decision to leave all analysis of famous people and their loony wardrobe choices to the The Fug Girls. They created the genre; they mastered it; I bow to perfection. And yet I’m going to break my rule just this once, because this Stylelist slideshow of backstage types at Coachella is just too astounding. It’s like these ladies showed up in costume. Almost as though, having presumably given the stylist the day off, they put on their actress hats and thought: “If I were playing a groupie at a rock festival, what would Wardrobe dress me in?” and went with that.
Ssense is pretty much the most coolest thing to come out of Canada since maybe ever. The aesthetic is very Downtown Girl of Means, with $6000 Balmain gowns existing alongside $165 APC shifts, because that’s how fancy girls roll. I’m very, very grateful that there is no physical version of Ssense it in my neighborhood, or anywhere in my city. Because if that were the case, I might very well be digging pennies out from under the couch to make the mortgage by now.
Let’s go pretend-spend $5,000, shall we?
Michael Angel is new favorite of mine. He has a love of color and pattern that is simultaneously fearless and not at all scary to behold, which seems like a pretty tricky trick to pull off. What I love about this dress is that he keeps things fairly simple up top, thereby earning the right to let his freak flag fly with the rest. $610
Typically I’m content to stick with the poor man’s Rick Owens (a.k.a. Helmut Lang, and I say that with a great deal of affection for Helmut Lang) but for the purposes of this exercise I’d be delighted to make room in my hypothetical closet for this full-length Rick Owens number. The man really knows how to drape, and how to to make a dress look as engaging from the back as the front. And also—not nothing in my book—how to create something that looks perfectly suited to curling up and taking a nice long nap. $800
One could never accuse this MM6 Maison Martin Margiela dress of being sexy, but sexy isn’t really the endgame at Margiela. And it’s precisely the Margiela-osity of this dress—its drapiness, the way it kind of slouchily narrows at the hip—that makes it such an intriguing possibility in a category I find deeply appealing but equally vexing: the white summer dress. This one works, I think, because it’s slightly off-white (with a verrrry subtle grey pattern) and a material that feels quite silky and soft, like a nicely worn-in old t-shirt. If your mom saw you wearing it, she’d probably tell you it needed a belt. And she would probably, annoyingly, be right. $450
This DVF dress just looks so clean and throw-it-on-all-summer, and the touch of asymmetry at the hem feels like just enough and not too much. With a print like that, one might not want too much else going on, shape wise. $400
I’ve always derived a peculiar kind of satisfaction from having a very expensive and desirable piece I’ve seen in a magazine or online—or even on the rack right before I try it on— turn out to be a real dud in the dressing room. You are spared the stress of those it’s-so-amazing-but-I-really-can’t afford-it-but I-need-it moments entirely. And while I would love to report that this really annoyingly expensive Christopher Kane cardigan looked like crap in person, it actually is pretty damn great. Such a sophisticated floral print, and so well-conceived that it serves as irrefutable proof that anyone who still thinks blue and black don’t go together needs to update their hard drive. $965
Ssense is pretty predictable in the bag department: they’ve got all of the big expensive it-baggy names you see everywhere, and not much in the way of the new or unexpected. Having said that, this Givenchy leather eel shoulder bag is striking me as pretty damn glamorous, and if I was still a fancy girl who bought crazy-expensive bags whose prices ran into the four figures, I might buy just go for it. $1540
I would most definitely go for a pair of these J. Brand chinos to accompany the identical pair I lived in all of last summer. The most comfortable—and surprisingly flattering, for a lady with hips—pants you can imagine. $180
And finally, this, cute, painfully-trendy-but-I-want-it-anyway little Dannijo bracelet for a nice pop of color. $230
Total: $5175! Just a touch over the wire, but in the world of catch-and-release shopping there are no rules.