Jess will be posting more photos of the latest YBF meal soon, but I had to post a couple of these ahead of time. Pictured is our beloved host for YBF dinners, Mike Posey. In between courses, he is often found studying his notes on the upcoming dishes so he can explain them to our guests. He manages to consistently do this studying in dapper clothing while bathed in perfect light. Handsome, right? Very. Get in line, gurls. Except I'll beat most of you off with a stick for being inferior, so, you know...prepare ahead.
(The first two are from our most recent dinner, and the last one is from November's dinner)
I'm a little bit late getting to all these, but I'll always maintain that it's never too late for gratuitous and unsolicited pictures of one's dog, provided that said dog is a black lab and not some other inferior breed of canine.
I was home for a couple of weeks at Christmastime, and my family and I went over to the coast for a spell post-holiday. For those of you who don't know where Cannon Beach is, just watch the end of The Goonies. Here was the view from our hotel room:
Not too shabby, right? Though these photos make the weather seem deceptively cheery for December on the Oregon Coast. I assure you, these three photos are literally the only evidence I captured of blue sky the entire time we were there. Most of the time, it was more like this:
Breaking momentarily sometimes for something like this:
Mostly we lounged around and drank beer from Cascade, pausing every ten minutes or so to consider Hooter's pathetic whimpering pleas to go outside, please, just one more time, please to play fetch??? Honestly, that dog had no idea which way was up. Four or five times a day we'd take him out and he would act as though he'd never seen the outdoors before. I've never seen an animal so singularly focused on the task at hand as that dog. He makes a lioness stalking a sick impala seem distracted and flighty. What? Oh, SRRY...I was sending a text msg to my homeboy Mufasa and that impala just waltzed right off. Uh...where was I?
In Hooter's world, it was FETCH! FETCH! FETCH! FETCH! FETCH! FETCH! FETCH! (Etc.) All. Day. Long. And don't even ask me what that high-pitched whine would ratchet up to when another dog walked by our room. You know the sound that only dogs can hear? False. You could Hooter losing his mind from Neptune.
WHAT! ARE! YOU! TRYING! TO! DO! TO! MEEEEE!!!!!
But seriously. How can you resist that tongue?!
As it turns out, there's actually nothing new under the sun. I feel like someone must have had that soul-crushing sentiment a few (thousand) years ago. Hmm. Seems to be a random week for encountering such random similarities, but I'm inclined to point them out if only to remind myself that I'm never nearly as clever as I think I am. (But rest assured, my gaffes will never be as bad, nor as public, as Kenley's.)
The first is inspired by the Baldessarini Spring '11 campaign I ran across today on The Fashionisto. One of the images in particular brought to mind various projects that Adam and I have worked on in the past.
Uncannnny, dahling. The second is completely by accident (well, so is the first...but you know what I mean). I snapped this on my iPhone while on the way to PDX airport in December. My old photo professor from Biola pointed out its similarity to the most expensive photo ever auctioned off:
Oh, fancy! I'll start accepting bids now.
A couple of weeks ago, a dear friend of mine - Jonathan Holden of J.Holden Designs - married his lady love Amy (whose dress was vintage, Chilean, and incredible. And I don't typically care for wedding dresses). I cried like a fool throughout the ceremony (love! Is! Beautiful!), probably even more than either the bride or the groom, but I'm unashamed. They had a mini photo studio set up during the reception so here's a shot of the two more important aspects of my life. (Friends and fur, obviously.)
Also, the hand removal surgery went amazingly well. I don't know what it is about sweaters that turn me into an insecure twelve-year-old. 5-inch wedges and football pad-sized fur and you're hiding your hands? Mea culpa.
(I'd credit the photog but I snagged this off of Facebook...help a sister out?)
I'd say I love L.A. but to do so would be to bang the sentiment over your heads with the force of an iron frying pan. Oh, screw it. Subtlety be shed for those who prefer to keep things bland. Let the proclamation be loosed from my lips: I love LA! And fashion! And alcohol! And this post will contain at least a modicum of all three! Hooray!
A couple of weekends ago, my fellow LA adventurer Charlie finally got me in the doors of Las Perlas, one of downtown hero/king Cedd Moses' libation stations. I hadn't been avoiding it, but with so many bars sprouting from the ground like a crocus in the springtime, I simply hadn't been there yet. My excuses (whatever they were) thusly nullified by the pistachio-green interior, I dove right in to Charlie's favorite cocktail: The Poblano Escobar, a heady mixture of mezcal, poblano peppers, cumin, pineapple, and a host of other surprises. Served with an agave leaf and green pepper, it nails the sweet and spicy notes that I've come to crave.
Fast forward to Tuesday, bright and sunny and impossibly warm for its January calendar date. I met up with Beth Jones to discuss, among other things, how I might sell my soul to Twitter (apparently, it's really easy). I snapped a few outfit shots for her upcoming post and she scratched my back and did the same. Though I wasn't wearing it that night a couple weeks back in LA, I think it pays the perfect sartorial homage to that wicked Poblano Escobar from Las Perlas. Viva la California!
Erin Wasson in Louis Vuitton, photographed by Santiago Esteban for Elle Spain
Normally wasp-waisted Skirty McPrim isn't the look I'm going for, but this welcome resurgence of New Look-style swirly-twirls has me singing a different tune. Whether Louis Vuitton's buttery decadence via all leather or Vena Cava's ineffably cool crop top pairing, both of these iterations feel absolutely right for early Spring. Add Crystal Renn's calf-grazing turn in Paper Planes and I'm officially on board with the New Modesty (bra, crop top, or bustier a saucy must).
Crystal Renn by Derek Kettela for Paper Planes
Louis Vuitton Fall 2010
Vena Cava SS2011
Vena Cava SS2011
Oh, what's that you hear? A tittering mellifluous warble over the Internets? That's just the sound of me Tweeting, capital T, as in, that Thing I said I'd never do. But lest you clap your little hands with glee at the prospect of following @laureldailey for my distilled 140-character witticisms in an attempt to eschew the meatier verbal portions of this blog...just don't. Listen, I tried to circumvent the humiliating task of scoring a lame grade in Biology in college by taking an interterm Astronomy class. Yeah, that C leapt off my transcript like a scarlet letter - niCe try, Dailey, shoulda learned the finer points of photosynthesis instead, gurl.
But even though I said I'd never do it (and let's just be honest here - I say that a lot. I'm an emphatic person. It's one of the things you love the most about me, remember?), I sat in a Coffee Bean today with my girl Beth Jones discussing how I could drum up some new business (CALL ME!) and the blue elephant-shaped bird in the room was just that: Twitter.
I had to. I was bound and held at gunpoint by the mounting evidence that it'd probably be a good move. You know, professionally. Because that leisurely stroll we took to Buffalo Exchange afterwards and the subsequent fur Zara stole that I did not buy - yeah, that's what I call a business meeting over here at Laurel Dailey Enterprises. And everybody knows that you can't be a fledgling freelance photographer without a Twitter account and an arsenal of effusive exclamation points to tack on to the end of every! Single! Breathless! Moment! Breathlessly! Recounted! ON TWITTER! Yayyyy! #PHOTOGRAPHYRULES
All that to say, I'm the new kid in the cafeteria. So follow me, because I promise I'll lead you straight to the very best secret corner, bearing a flask and a wicked grin.
Hey, ho! Let's go!
I spotted this spread from a post on Contributing Editor recently (ph. by Atisha Paulson). I thought to myself, "Say...this looks familiar, and I know it's not because I stripped to my skivvies and jumped into the Hudson. BUT SOMEONE ELSE DID!"
Compare to two photos I snapped this September from the Harlem Mimosa series over at Loose Luggage. Curiouser and curiouser! Contributing Editor first, followed by my own perspective:
Dressing for a vacation can be tough. It's one thing if said 'vacation' is another big city like the one you already live (and dress) in. But when it's somewhere insular and surrounded by water, drenched in sun and coated in sand, where the median temperature is in the 80's and more often than not, humidity is the likeliest of bedfellows, then what? Baggy capris in a quick-wick performance fabric? Hand me a pair of Crocs and shoot me in the head. Denim shorts and a sturdy-but-loved v-neck tee? Bonus points for bright colors? Bor-ring.
At the same time, you don't want to prance around in your highest heels because, duh, there's sand everywhere, but wearing nothing but a bathing suit leaves a lot to be desired as well. All said, for a trip that's supposed to be relaxing, packing can be a pain. Which is why I thought I'd share these photos, because Sandra from 5 Inch and Up has it absolutely nailed. Head over to her blog to see the rest of her trip photos. Makes me want to board a plane yesterday.
All photos from 5 Inch and Up
Alexander Wang pre-fall '11
Céline pre-fall '11. That COAT.
Céline pre-fall '11. Tiny clutch + giant tail? Sign me up.
Isabel Marant SP11
Isabel Marant SP11. The French even do surf wear better.
Proenza Schouler pre-fall '11
Proenza pre-fall '11. Mixing patterns.
Proenza. THAT COAT.