My good friend Jen has an Etsy boutique called Plastique*, where she has debuted her collection of inverted "diamond" rings. I absolutely love them (we schemed and dreamed about the design and specifics regarding how each ring would work months ago and she surprised me at Christmas by showing me the finished product), and I bought one in different colors for all of my (oh my word I can't believe I'm going to say what I'm about to say, somebody kill me now. Seriously. Now. I never EVER thought I'd be the type of girl who would refer to her girl friends as...) girlfriends for pre-Christmas presents.
At ten bucks a pop, these diamond rings are the type of jewelry you can buy in bulk. Check out her store here.
I added a few more pairs of shoes to my ever-growing collection this week. PLV tassel heels and canvas/leather boat shoes. Welcome to the fold, my little lambs. Also, I've been eyeing the brown kishan cutout platforms for awhile, but at $125, they're just a little bit out of my price range. However, I found a similar pair at Target this week for $30. The price is right!
(...Which I failed miserably, if you were wondering.)
Here's a question for those of you who returned to the place of your formative years for the Holidays: Is it just me, or are the radio stations forever stuck playing the same thing they played when we were in high school?
Driving back from meeting Em at Boone's today I heard Cake, then Blue-era Weezer followed by Sneaker Pimps (yeah? Remember them?) and Blur. As in, WOO-HOO!-Blur. And while I traversed the brown back roads that fan out off the main street (River Road) like veins, driving the same white pickup I drove in high school, listening to Rivers Cuomo liken himself to Buddy Holly, I wondered if it was just me at the moment; or if high schoolers in Keizer are having the exact same experience I did from '97 - '01.
Because if the music is any indication, they are.
In which case, I'd command them to rock on completely with some brand new components.
One of my Christmas presents from my parents was an Alex+Chloe inverted diamond ring, a piece of jewelry I've been admiring for a long time for a few reasons. My birthday is in April, so my birthstone is a diamond. As such, I've never had any jewelry containing my birthstone for obvious reasons. It's pricey, it's extravagant, and most of all, it looks like I've hopped on the Get-Hitched Train southbound for Marriageville. Not that such a train would be headed to a terrible destination, but I'm only 25 and I'd much rather spend my time scheming on how I might convince Andrew Bird to marry me than actually, you know, getting married.
C'est la vie. But when I saw Alex+Choe's inventive rendition of the typical diamond ring, I knew it was a piece that was absolutely "me." The champagne diamond is actually mounted upside down - pointy side up, a subversive decision that is at turns novel and a bit dangerous (it's really, really sharp). In person, it's delicate and small, but upon closer look, you can see the razor sharp apex of the diamond in its setting.
Because I'm left-handed, I've always gravitated toward wearing jewelry (be it a ring, a watch, or a bracelet) on that hand. I already have a Hawaiian rose gold band given to me by my parents when I graduated college, and it's on the ring finger of my left hand (that's the only finger it fits on), and now it's joined by my new piece of bling. So...basically it looks like I've gotten myself the ol' ball and chain. But I've decided that I'm not too concerned about this, because on closer inspection it's still very clear I'm a free bird.
Unless, of course, Andrew Bird has a mind to change all that.
I'm having a fur moment. Maybe it's the weather - cold, unforgiving, bone-chilling - (and that's inside my house), or maybe it's that I've always had a proclivity towards items that are over the top, lush, and extravagant. Either way, Scott Schuman understands this and over the years he's captured some of the world's most fashionable women sporting the most luxurious of all garments: Fur.
All images by Scott Schuman for The Sartorialist
Those of you readers from the Northwest know that we've had a bit of a winter "situation" on our hands this past two weeks. Seattle and Portland have had multiple snow storms blow through, dumping white stuff on everything from shore to mountaintop. It's unprecedented, really, because though Salem (my hometown) typically gets a light dusting every year, it's nowhere near this kind of wintry deluge and it's never so early in the year.
I was worried that between storms, I wouldn't be able to get from Long Beach to Portland this year for Christmas. I spent two days obsessively checking the weather and my flight status, hoping for a clue as to where I'd be spending the holidays; at home in Keizer, or pitching a snit fit in California. Luckily, as of 5 p.m. on the day of my flight (Tuesday), it was only looking to be 10 minutes late. I hightailed it to the airport (thanks for the ride, Ash) and checked in. (A note about John Wayne Airport: I love you. I love you. From check in to front gate took a grand total of 10 minutes. Brilliant).
As soon as I sat down at the gate, though, I noticed that my flight had been pushed back from 7:45 to 8:45. It's as if God knew the entire time, 'Yeah, Laurel will get home just fine. But not before I get my celestial kicks with the whole 'weather' thing." And sure enough, the next time I checked, my flight had been pushed back to 9:30 p.m.
While I was waiting, a few alarms began to sound (a comforting soundtrack for sitting in an airport, I assure you) and a voice came over the loudspeaker, urgently announcing a "code 5 security breach." Well, lovely. Alarmed airport security began circling like vultures and I wondered, why are they alarmed? I couldn't imagine, but I suspect they all collectively realized that their uniform pants don't fit very well. "Say, Constance, I think my pants make my ass look big."
"Shauna, I think MY pants make MY ass look big!"
"SOUND THE ALARM. NOW. OUR PANTS MAKE OUR ASSES LOOK LIKE GLACIAL MASSES."
And so on.
Finally at 9:30 p.m. we were able to board the plane, but we were informed that our normally 2-hour flight would take a wee bit longer because, oh yes, we had to take off from Orange County and land at LAX to pick up our captain. Oh of course. Our fearless pilot couldn't possibly have taken ground transportation to get from point A to point OC. No, no. Nothing but the friendly skies would do! So we landed in LA about 20 minutes later. Turns out Cher Horowitz' dad is right: Everything in LA really is twenty minutes away.
Finally at 1:15 a.m. I landed in Portland. I immediately called my dad, who was supposed to pick me up. Turns out, he was stuck in Wilsonville (about 30 miles out from Salem and 10 miles from the airport), and it had taken him 3 hours to get there. He said it might be a couple hours more before he arrived, if he arrived at all. And from the Heavens, a celestial laugh boomed forth, "MWAH-HAHA-HAH!"
Yep, loud and clear Big Guy. Thanks for the reminder.
I decided to take a cab to meet my dad where he was waiting. I don't know about you guys, but do you find that ALL cabbies look eminently sketchy no matter where you are? Mine had bloodshot eyes and not a single chain on his tires despite the fact that he mumbled "Sure," when I questioned whether his tires were safe.
We careened down the 5 while I prayed the entire time, LORD, I SWEAR IF YOU TAKE MY LIFE IN THIS WAY, I MIGHT JUST SIT OUTSIDE HEAVEN'S GATES AND SULK FOR AWHILE.
But I made it. And we started the long drive home and by 4 am. 11 hours after the whole travel ordeal began, I was doggedly, gratefully, FINALLY home.
Merry Christmas, everyone.
Some kids have all the luck.
I celebrated my 13th birthday with a few friends, probably a sleepover, and tattered sheets of paper bearing "M.A.S.H." inscriptions. Spencer Tweedy celebrated his coming of age by playing drums at Madison Square Garden with Neil Young. Fifteen thousand people sang happy birthday to the kid.
Happy birthday, indeed. If the last name sounds familiar, it's because Tweedy is the spawn of Wilco frontman Jeff Tweedy, who happens to be one of the greatest musicians living and working today. It's no coincidence a band like Wilco would open for a legend like Neil Young, right? Well, this Spencer fella has a blog, aptly called Spencer Tweedy's Blog, wherein he imparts wisdom ("You cannot embrace the interweb until you've woken up, said hello to the world, jump-started your brain with at least a whiff of fresh air."), shares anecdotes (and political views), and updates total strangers like me on the goings on of a adolescent kid whose dad just happens to be a rock n' roll genius.
But far be it from me to be star-struck. Tweedy's blog is intelligent and funny, and I don't know how he does it, but the kid's got excellent grammar. He even adapts school assignments for his blog, ruminating on subjects ranging from Stalin to the Constitution to, yes, beer.
It's an entertaining read, to be sure, so if you like wit and wisdom imparted in equal measure by a source half your age, then head on over to Spencer Tweedy's blog.
In an internet market so saturated with style blogs and streetstyle photography, it's rare to come across a site as lovely and fresh as Garance Doré's. Her photography is soft around the edges, feminine, and light - infusing undoubtedly mundane moments with a carefree élan and softbox-perfect lighting.
Doré is an illustrator from France who began her blog in June 2006 as a way to get her artwork out into the e-world. Now her blog is a mix of illustrations, photographs, and musings of a stylish woman who has been trying on her mother's "incredible Mugler and Alaïa outfits" since childhood.
See more from Garance here. Vive la France!
All images and illustrations: Garance Doré
"[Style.com]: I read somewhere that you funded your first collection by selling Kate’s vinyl collection to Amoeba Records. Are there any records you regret giving up?KM: Oh, man. I can’t even talk about this.LM: I had to sell the records. Boxes and boxes, I made so many trips out of that Amoeba basement in Hollywood. And the guy there seriously could not believe that the collection belonged to a girl.KM: Which is really infuriating.LM: Like in college, the way guys would be weirded out if you had a lot of different kinds of books, as though having varied taste is a gender-specific thing.KM: I’m getting mad about this all over again."- Style.com interview with Rodarte designers Kate and Laura Mulleavy. As if you couldn't love them ANY more...
These Resort 2009 lookbook images have a lot going for them: I love the photography. I love Zooey Deschanel. And as I'm known to don a pair of Paul Smith for Oliver Peoples specs, I love Oliver Peoples, too.
See more here.
Hey, Dad. I know you're reading this blog (even if you won't get around to it till February), so I just want you to know that if I had all the unlimited dough that wealthy financial benefactors provide, I'd totally buy you this Mihara Yasuhiro leather Canon G9 case.
In fact, I'd buy one for myself, too. Aren't they pretty?
In the meantime, Dad, I guess we can keep dreaming. And I'll keep looking for that wealthy benefactor.
(Everyone else can check out the price tag here)
It's cold and blustery here in L.A. today, and undoubtedly worse elsewhere (please, oh please, oh please don't cancel my flight home on Tuesday, Alaska Airlines!), so online boutique La Garçonne's lookbook images seem particularly apropos. I especially love the Alexander Wang long johns and the Humanoid pashmina scarf.
If you're a stylish man (and come now, my pet, there's no reason not to be; let's ring in 2009 as the Year of the Stylish Man, shall we? Oh, we shall), who happens to live in a climate less pristinely predictable as Southern California's, might I suggest you invest in a pair of Amaort boots?
Amaort is a Japanese company who makes stylish Wellington-style rubber boots for those who find splashing through puddles and looking good while doing it to be of utmost priority. I especially like these lace-up versions, with a peacoat and a good scarf.
On Friday I had the great fortune of shooting the lovely Kristina Dahlin for her portfolio. We discussed what kind of mood we wanted to set and I took one look at her amazing apartment and declared, "This feels just like France!"
Something about the open, airiness of her living space combined with the bright winter sunshine made us think, sure, why not? So we went with it, and since I know you're wondering what we came up with...here are a few images from our imaginary Parisian holiday.