As mentioned previously, I headed up to the Central Coast last weekend with a few friends for a weekend that included copious amounts of thrifting, wine drinking, bocce ball playing, and The Big Lebowski-watching. We have a local place we always go when we're up there and I think I've yet to leave there empty-handed, but this weekend...wowee. I didn't spend more than $40 total for my finds but still managed to return home with a massive bag of Spring-appropriate clothing. I'd had a few things on my list that I was finally able to tick off, among them a silk button-up shirt like this one at American Apparel (except that mine was 65-cents. That's right - cents) and an oversized army-style parka ($4). Jody made off like a bandit with a $3 pair of gold Oscar de la Renta flats, and I found Jessica a full-length sunset-printed tank dress, in the vein of Prada, Christopher Kane, and We Are Handsome. I don't think a single one of us spent more than $50 total on our haul, which is pretty nifty considering that Jess dragged home two trashbags full of clothing.
Here are some of my favorite pieces:
London Fog parka, studded leather belt, turquoise cuff, and vintage Dooney & Bourke - all thrifted
black & white circle skirt - thrifted, platforms - Buffalo Exchange
Silk striped shirt - thrifted, 95-cents
Leopard-print button up, maroon silk button up, and zebra-print sweater - all thrifted
Monocle and turquoise cuff - both thrifted
While the rest of you must wait with baited breath to see the goods Quail has drummed up for Fall 2011 (patience is a virtue, my friends, but waiting is also a pain), I'll benevolently toss a couple more shots your way. These are a few bonus images from our editorial session that weren't used in the lookbook, but I love them too much not to share. Our model Rachael had such infectious energy, it was a pleasure taking her picture. Probably one of my favorite Quail shoots to date.
Are you a designer in need of lookbook or e-commerce material? Call me. Let's DO this.
Check out the second in my shopping series with Beth Jones of B. Jones Style. This time we hit up Elsewhere Vintage in old town Orange. In particular, there was a fringed piano jacket that had me foaming at the mouth. Where's 350 bones to spend frivolously when you need it?
Inspired by this tutorial at Refinery29, I painted my nails tonight. Easier than it seems and looks pretty cool. I had both of the colors already, so most of the work was already done. Until it starts to chip, that is. Then I'll employ my angry face (but probably not any nail polish remover).
I feel I'm tempting Internet fate here with that title, but only time (and my analytics) will reveal which search terms led some lonely soul to my blog on a nondescript Wednesday night much like this one. We'll hope it was preceded by "James Brown" but if not...welcome, stranger! I guarantee this is not what you were looking for!
Happy Hump Day, folks. Or rather, Happy Pip The Humper Day. Remember this little nubbin?
Times were simpler then.
Well, he's not so little anymore.
No means no, Pip. Remember that.
And his ears aren't the only things getting bigger. Shall I be blunt? His wee bunny cojones are on the move. I had a rabbit growing up whose given name was, I'm sorry to report, Mr. Bun-Bun,* and homeboy had a cuddly bunny sex drive that was utterly insatiable. He'd hump pillows. He'd hump people if he could get enough leverage to do so (it was our favorite party trick; nothing screams "backyard BBQ" quite like getting molested by a randy flop-eared Disney character). Mr. Bun-Bun was especially fond of our dog Cocoa,** herself a 75-pound lab who, though not exhibiting any telltale indications of actually enjoying Mr. Bun-Bun's amorous assault, at least tolerated it. Mr. Bun-Bun would even envelop Jody's wee guinea pig in his love, essentially creating a fur-covered hot pocket. A hot pocket that squeaked.
I always wondered if Keslie's little Pippers would follow in Mr. Bun-Bun's insatiable footsteps and one balmy day a few weeks ago, my query was answered with a text message from Ashley:
Trust me, friends. That is the kind of text message you want to receive whilst out and about with friends. So we knew Pip had transitioned from Divine Angel Bunny Baby to Gross Misunderstood Teenager Who Spends Too Much Time In His Room Playing Halo On His Computer And Popping Zits To Pass The Lonely Hours Until Adulthood. So you mean we can't use our round-voweled baby-speak anymore? But he's still such a widdle booooy! Such a cuuuute widdle wabbit! NOT ANYMORE, FOLKS. Pip has officially passed through bashfully fumbling adolescence and into Frat Guy Pounding Four Lokos With His Bros Before Picking Up On That Chick Over There, That One With The Blonde Hair And Hot Body And Above Average Intelligence--oh, wait.
I was minding my own tonight when I heard Ashley shriek from the bathroom. I ran in to see what the ruckus was about and found her perched precariously on the side of the bathtub, dripping wet, sheathed only in a towel and fear. At her feet was Pip, clawing desperately on the tub like a delusional Romeo for his terrified Juliet.
"He won't leave me alone! HE KEEPS HUMPING! MY! LEGS!" Ashley crowed from the tub. Indeed, our little man Pip has taken quite the shining to Ms. Millar, and what would you know it - he's totally a legs man.
High five, bro.
*We eventually changed it to something like Cuddle Bunny but usually deferred simply to "Rabbit." This from a girl who named her childhood stuffed bear Bear-Bear. Originality and LD are highly unlikely bedfellows.
**Yes, she was brown. Pretty sure I was at least partially responsible for that scintillating flash of novelty as well.
Remember that shoot I did with Brian and Beth Jones awhile back? Check it out to refresh your memory. Beth's sister-in-law Lauren contacted me about a month ago looking for the same kind of thing. She and her family are moving to one of the Carolinas (Raleigh would be...North? DON'T JUDGE ME, INTERNET), but before they left, they wanted to capture this time of their lives in California. I'm not the type of photographer who makes her paper doing family shoots most of the time, but there are certain exceptions I'll make when the family in question happens to be awesome and a trip to the Huntington Gardens is in the mix (the same could be said about babies - but Graham and I had an understanding. He was relentlessly cute and I succumbed to his Handsome Man schtick. What can I say? I'm a sucker for the fellas).
Lauren and I went back and forth about fifteen times trying to decide the best day to shoot given the tempestuous nature of the weather here in California (yes, it does rain. Sometimes), and we completely lucked out last week. The sun was shining, the clouds marched across the sky in a cadre of shapes, and we were able to capture that quintessentially Californian weather one last time before they head down south. Here are a few of my favorite shots from a family who was an absolute pleasure to work with.
Posted by LD at 6:00 AM
So, I'm as big a fan as the next guy (or gal), but I've noticed that Radiohead haven't really written a song with some serious teeth in awhile. Hail To The Thief opens with "2+2=5", which might be the last aural evisceration Yorke & Co. have served up since they went all esoteric and pretty on us. Granted, their oeuvre isn't dependent on the eardrum takedown, but still...it's nice every now and again to hear something a little bit feral. In Rainbows is, above anything else, an achingly lovely album. Eraser as Thom's side project accomplishes what it needs to, but more than anything, The King of Limbs feels like an amalgam of those two trains of thought.
What I've yet to decide is whether this should be logged as an official complaint or merely an observation, because I've not spent nearly enough time with the latest offering. Thoughts, Internet?
As the title of this post suggests, I spent the weekend in the not-quite-northern coast of California with a few friends. When we weren't raiding the living daylights out of the local thrift stores (and yes, there will be a post on this in the near future) or testing the limits of what constitutes acceptable breakfast food (chips and salsa. Popcorn. Oh, that might have just been me. Nice to meet you, world. I'm a 19-year-old college male), we headed north to San Luis Obispo to see a friend of ours who lives up there. Wine, bocce ball, horses, and one very docile yellow lab. That is not only representative of our day, but it's also the shortlist of my favorite things of all time. Well, switch out "horses" with "whiskey." And add, just for kicks, "whooping ass at" right before that bocce ball bit. Now we're talkin'.
Not a bad way to spend a weekend.
(All photography by Laurel Dailey. That's me, in case you really haven't been paying attention.)
This is pretty much a nutshell of how Ashley functions.
Seriously, folks: Just toss a lowball of bourbon in the picture. All you need to know about your girl LD could be gleaned from the result.
Meet Elissa. She's 9 years old, has ridden horses basically since birth and is in the middle of writing her first novel, save for some pesky writer's block.
A parting gift: a bundle of peacock feathers from the ranch's avian companions.
So Paul lives here, and it's pretty idyllic as you can see.
So now you're all savvy to my humiliating fashunning, as well as the crushing realization that I'm not cut out to be the next Bambi Northwood Blyth, which really screws up my future plans because I was sort of hoping to coast into my forties only on my good looks and devastating charm. We all have our dreams of being an astronaut, aim for the stars - blah, blah, blah. What I really need is a benefactor who wants nothing from me other than a newly coined term each day. Fashunned would get me through the first 24 hours, followed by F'accent, which is simply the interestingly baroque-nouveau affectation certain women's voices take when they talk about fashion. You know what I'm talking about; sounds like there's an Hermés scarf stuffed in the back of her throat and her vocal chords have been marinating in Pellegrino since she was old enough to pronounce Jee-von-sheee.
So what I'm saying is, this harebrained sponsorship I've cooked up here at Laurel Dailey Enterprises probably wouldn't last more than a fortnight, and since Model and Professional Doer of Nothing are out of the picture, I suppose I should resort to my third and final calling to make my Benjamins (all two of them): Photographer. I employed this very skill in NYC last week with Beth Jones when we met at Rice on Elizabeth St. for lunch with a stylish cadre of fashion bloggers: Taylor from Sterling Style, Jessica from What I Wore, and Lucy from Lucy Laucht. We talked shop over chicken satay and pad thai and then hit the streets for a few pictures. It was both lovely and refreshing to hear the perspectives of such talented and friendly women on what they do, both professionally and in their free time.
While at the Lucky FABB conference, I also got to meet a few other girls whom I bonded with right away: Kim from eat.sleep.wear, Christine from My Style Pill and Lauren from Color Collective (bonus: Lauren hails from Portland, Oregon. Go, Lauren!). Here are some photos I snapped from the conference, as well as lunch the following day:
Jessica from What I Wore
Enid from Crossroads Trading Co.
Taylor from Sterling Style
Kim from eat.sleep.wear and Christine from My Style Pill
Beth, myself, and Lauren from Color Collective
I enjoyed that quote from Mizz Rivers
Lucy from Lucy Laucht
Another one of Enid at our dinner at Balaboosta. Couldn't get enough of her amazing hair!