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Usually, I am loathe to jump on the bandwagon when it comes to talk of celebrity passings. Not only have plenty of other people said just as much as I ever could, posted far more pictures than I ever could, and done a better job at it, but to speak of someone's death on something so trivial seeming as a "style blog" feels wrong to me.In this case, however, I will make an exception. I don't claim to be an expert, but I do know that Dennis Hopper was no saint. He lead a tumultuous, troubled life to say the least--but he was, and will continue to be, a true legend of a man, an actor capable of terrifying intensity, and a driving force in the youthquake revolution that changed Hollywood forever.
Knowing Mr. Hopper only through the roles that he played in and around many of my very favorite films, movies that I grew up with, that connected me to an idea and a feeling that existed long before I was born (if at all), I understand that my sadness today is a selfish one. It's a sadness connected to the fact that the last remaining physical remnants of a very special, important time are slowly disappearing from this planet.
And yes, it may be inevitable. But I'll be goddamned if that means I have to like it.
Beautiful photos of Hanne Gaby Odiele by Dylan Forsberg. Hanne is one of my very favorite models, maybe because she really looks like no one else. I think some people are a bit put off by her strong, somewhat strange features, but I find them truly fascinating. The fact that she also seems pretty rad in person (and has an adorable accent) doesn't hurt either!
How frickin' incredible does Chioma (my wonderful boss at FADER) look in her new Boxing Kitten Jumper?? Ack, it boggles the mind (and the eyeballz!) And reading about her childhood memories of visiting Africa, and the amazing Nigerian half of her family, on the FADER blog makes me love it (and her) that much more.
photo by John Francis Peters
I've been getting a few freelance gigs as a styling assistant lately, which means some very, very long days, but also means a little bit of cold hard cash in my pockets for once. Last weekend was another work weekend for me (hence all the returns on Monday), and as usual, my first urge was to go out and buy myself some flowers as a reward for a job well done (and, most importantly, DONE!)
I was so exhausted Saturday night that I was dead asleep by 11:30 (which NEVER happens), and when I woke up the next morning (ahem, afternoon?) the bedroom was full of the scent of these peonies that had fully opened up over night. I can think of no better way to wake up than to the smell of fresh flowers...except maybe to the smell of freshly baked bread? It's a toss up, for sure.
In conclusion: I will probably end up taking this exact photo about two thousand times. Only the flowers will change (and the knick-knacks might shuffle around a bit.)
I knew I was going to be spending all day Monday dragging around armloads of garment bags in and out of subway cars and up and down stairs (cuz nobody's paying for my taxis 'cept me!) so I went for something nice and loose and comfortable. I ended up having to jettison the jacket pretty quick though, I was running a serious sweat factory halfway in to my first drop-off of the day (John Galliano no less! Ooh lala.)
I seriously wish I could just wear these pants every damn day. Knowing these things exist in my closet makes shoving myself back into a pair of skinny jeans feel like a prison sentence. Plus honestly, those things are really starting to look kinda stale and boring. Is anyone else welcoming the eventual, if only partial (still never gonna be into wide-legged anything, not for me thanks!) decline of the painted-on look?
I recently dug up these photos I took back in January during a quick trip home to the Islands and never got around to sharing. It was during a strange warm snap, and there were little flowers blooming everywhere (though sometimes they were hiding and you had to poke around a bit to find them.) Also, as you can see from the last photo especially, I made out with some great loot as always, including but not limited to: a giant old safety pin for $1, a big antique rug for $30, a tea towel that reads "The Favorite Cat", two striped shirts, some red wool socks, a leather belt, a Panty Raid record and a rainbow glasses case (gave to Alex), a Francoise Hardy album (gave to Cassie), a vase shaped like a leopard print high heel, plus assorted stationary and books. I've pretty much given up trying to "thrift" here in NYC, and instead I save my energies for my twice yearly trips home, where everything is cheap and old and plentiful and wonderful.
(click photo for details!)Being as my birthday is in June, roses have always held a dear place in my heart. They are my birth flower not only in name but in practice, as witnessed by the beautiful birthday bouquets my mom would always pick for me on the morning of the 22nd, carefully selecting a few heavy-headed blossoms from her bushes to tuck in amongst peonies, pink poppies and canterbury bells. Today, though I've still got a good month to go before I turn a year older, I would very much like to take a stroll through a rose garden, stopping to sniff every last one. They all smell so different, some very rose-y and some more like fruit or even licorice sometimes! And, in this candy-colored fantasy land, I would be wearing this outfit. And would escape without a single grass stain on my ass. Likely story.
Not gonna lie, it's kiiinda driving me crazy that my nail polish AND my toenail polish are pretty much the EXACT same color as my shirt today. But I'm working through it (since I'm waaay too lazy to actually do something constructive about it. Nah. No way.)
Anyways! These are my absolute favorite new pants in the world. I got them at Buffalo Exchange, but they are originally from H&M, although sadly they don't seem to be in stores anymore. I would seriously consider taking them somewhere and having five identical pairs made in five different fabrics. I have such a rotten time finding trousers that fit how I want, and these are so comfortable and slouchy without giving me balloon thighs or bubble butt. Proof that miracles do happen!
I'd also like to have about a dozen copies of this belt made. It is my number one best belt, and I will be so sad when, someday, it falls to shreds, or flies to bits after an epic taco feast, or something equally sad/delicious ("Taste my sad, Michael!")
Spotted (ha, literally!!): a pair of mighty Alexander Wang-ish leopard print pumps, from Luxe de Ville on Etsy. Woulda snapped these up in a second if a) I had the dough and b) I thought I could cram my feet into them. Size 6.5's, rejoice!
Having been relatively unemployed for some time now, I've had to be fairly stingy where treating myself is concerned. A couple weeks ago though, after another late night session on craigslist trolling the depths of the cesspool otherwise known as "Gigs," I came across a marketing firm that was offering a $25 Amazon.com giftcard for thirty minutes spent reviewing a new website.
The company's address was in the same wing of the Chelsea Markets as the Food Network offices, so how shady could it be, right? My Amazon wishlist is always a mile long, and I didn't have much else going on...So, after a painless half-hour spent spewing my inner monologue into a computer monitor, I emerged victorious, with twenty-five internet dollars burning a hole in my pocket.
What to buy with those $25 was a no-brainer. A few days before, I had taken advantage of my favorite library (aka Barnes & Noble) to compare a few books I had been itching to own. After carefully inspecting The Sartorialist
, Facehunter
, and The Selby Is in Your Place
, I decided hands down that The Selby Is in Your Place takes the cake.
Not only are the photos amazing (duh) but it contains an exciting mix of old favorites (Bill and Fanny, Helena Christensen, above) from the blog along with new, print-exclusive homes (like Lou Doillon's, above top.) The book itself is also just beautifully put together in a simple, unfussy, but incredibly charming way. I honestly can't recommend it enough!
On the subject of treats: last week, while strolling through the Union Square Greenmarket, I came across a sight that literally made my heart leap. A small stand was selling nothing but buckets and buckets of freshly bundled Lilly of the Valley! These have always been a sort of mythical, storybook flower to me, something strictly confined to mossy dells and Brian Jacques novels. I would always beg my mom to try and grow them in our garden, but they rarely seemed happy and never actually lived long enough to bloom.
I had to stop myself from spending a week's grocery money on a whole bucket, and brought this little bundle home instead, which I set in my Roost teapot. I'd always had the sneaking suspicion that "Lilly of the Valley" was a scent solely invented by Crabtree & Evelyn--I mean really, what flower could actually smell like that?? But they do! A bit like roses, but more so, and entirely unique. And worth every penny.
