You’ve all reacted so violently to the A Detacher sandals I posted this morning (and which I will go to my grave insisting are cute—albeit maybe only in person) that I’ve decided some palate-cleansing might be in order. So here’s a sampling of a few inarguably nice items for your inspection—all of them bags, because I’m arbitrary like that. How about this couldn’t-be-more-classic option from JW Hulme? Uncontroversial enough for you?
Or maybe this more equestrian—and somehow also more rock & roll—crossbody style is more your thing.
I have a big problem with people using words like yummy to describe anything other than food, but if the slouchy-soft leather on this oversized Ligne 6 clutch does not look delicious, then I do not know what does.
APC purses can be so minimal they almost don’t exist at all, but that can be an appealing thing in its way: a blank slate of a bag like this one can say a lot about the confidence of the wearer, and wind up making a far more lasting impression than any Statement Bag might.
One of the first I’m-a-big-girl-now purchases of my adult life was a set of T. Anthony luggage: it’s beautiful and built to last, and telegraphs Respect Me to snooty hotel concierge types. This duffle is very get-me-to-the-Jitney-on-time sportif; if you crave something a touch more feminine, look no further than this weekender.
Rather lot to pay for a summer flat, to be sure. But that utilitarian red strap is the kind of really unusual touch that almost never pays off—but totally does here, don’t you think?
Here is precisely why I always say not to judge all synthetics too harshly: this tee, which right off the rack looks slouchy and chic and perfectly broken-in, like you’ve had it for years. It’s 100% rayon and you would never, ever know.
This kind of looks like what might happen if a Doc Marten were to have an affair with a nurse shoe. I’m not certain that’s an entirely good thing, but still, I find myself oddly drawn in. Thoughts?
Yesterday’s post on the ring with a hidden diamond put me in mind of all the jewelry I keep seeing with just enough of the sparkly stuff to put a spring in your step— but not so much sparkly stuff that you have to shell out anywhere near four figures to pay for it. Like this rose gold ring with a diamond bar, for instance, which brings all sorts of quiet elegance to the party.
As talismans go, you can’t beat a horseshoe— for good luck and straight-up cuteness.
Itsy fishies with shiny, bright eyes.
Satomi Kawakita is one of my new favorite jewelry designers: her pieces are both delicate and un-girly, which is a combination you do not find everyday. My stack of rings suddenly feels incomplete without this hexagon.
From estate jeweler Doyle & Doyle’s heirloom collection: a fly perched and ready to strike.
And its cousins, the crawly little spiders.
If this this Anna Sheffield gold diamond ring isn’t the coolest thing ever, I don’t even know what is.
Check out the wee hidden diamond!
I’m not quite certain how Roztayger—an e commerce site devoted entirely to bags—escaped my notice for so long. And I’m also not entirely certain it’s a good thing I finally discovered it, because I want pretty much every piece in its small, well-edited selection. They’ve got familiar names like Clare Vivier and Utility Canvas, but a lot of new ones too, like Meli Melo, Ro, and Frrry. The selection is on the clean and utilitarian side (lots of totes and cross-body bags) hardware is kept to a minimum, and there is nary a logo in sight. But in no way does that equal boring: could you die for this quite polished—but simultaneously deeply cool—little number?
Set aside, for a moment, that this dress is Marni and costs a squillion dollars and just riddle me this:
What species of woodland creature have we here? Bear? Bird? Raccoon? Please share your best guesses.
Lip prints are the red-headed stepchild of the print world—like stars or hearts, they’re always happening somewhere on the fashion landscape, but usually only in a minor key. Once in a while, something will break out big, like in Prada’s Spring 2000 collection (revisited in 2010, as you can see here). And there are certain designers who return to it repeatedly—like Diane Von Furstenberg, who can be counted upon to scatter them everywhere from iPhone cases to earbuds to cosmetic bags, depending on the year.
I prefer a nice strong single lip as opposed to a print, and for that lip to be more punk-pout Rocky Horror in mood than kissed-a-napkin sweet. I love this outfit—slightly mad though it may be—and the way the sparkly Markus Lupfer tee pokes out from under the jacket instead of hogging all the attention. It would come off great styled more subdued as well—with jeans and maybe a simple moto jacket or blazer, for instance. (Also: here’s a super-duper bargain-priced Forever 21 version of the tee.)
There are two things I like about this necklace. One: it’s on a ball chain, which is so fun and contrasty. And two: it reminds me of this splurge-tastic ring by Solange Azagury-Partridge, but is the merest fraction of its price.
If these Marc by Marc Jacobs studs were anything other than quite petite, they’d be way too look! I’m kooky! But as it is, they’re fun and winkingly chic.
And finally: be the greenest art girl on the block with this Marilyn Minter water bottle.
I can not wear high heels, due to a foot problem that it’s rather surprising I haven’t gotten around to boring you with yet. So, briefly: neuromas are rogue nerve growths that, when they rear their ugly heads, make walking uncomfortable and walking in heels excruciating. When, about eight years ago, they became part of my reality, my podiatrist insisted that I wear an orthotic all the time, with flats and only flats. This was back when I was still an editor, and following this edict did not exactly make me feel like a paradigm of attractiveness and femininity in an office full of fashion gazelles. Summer was particularly unbearable, as nothing work-worthy accommodated the orthotics but ballet flats, which provide no height whatsoever (even the flattest boots give you a smidge) and weren’t my thing to begin with. Soon I grew to loathe them, and not just for vanity’s sake either: to be a woman denuded of her heels is, in this particular venue, to be a woman denuded of some of her power. This may sound nuts, but is one thousand per cent true. Even those female editors-in-chief at the company whose magazines weren’t fashion titles clickety-clacked to important meetings in their Louboutons: they signified confidence, and polish, and authority, and believe me, it was tough to make quite the same impression in Repettos.
Today, the neuromas have subsided a bit, and my footwear options have broadened to include platforms, as long as the slope of the heel is reasonably undramatic. That means either keeping things on the lower side altogether, or taking a bit of a risk with a couple more inches—which can come off a touch Frankenstein-ian. This Robert Clergerie pair has a little of that, but I have not let that deter me from coveting them deeply. They are supremely comfortable (yes, I have given them a test run) and the little inverted V on the sole is the very essence of funky 70s LA chick. They’d also be perfect with the dress I’m wearing to this thing I’ve got this evening. Do I buy them, guys? They’re an investment, but are going to be excellent on the cost-per-wear front, I can just tell. And they’re just around the corner at Otte, so I’ve got until this afternoon to decide. Thoughts?