“isn’t it awful that cold feet make for a cold imagination and that a pair of woolen socks induce good thoughts!” // f. grillparzer

as it approached 11pm the other night, (the hour that either propels me directly into bed, or compels me to throw caution to the wind and a solid 6 hours be damned); i hurriedly slipped into my dogged hightop vans, collared the dog – and out we went for a little business doing.

only when it was much too late to turn back – the odd 60/40/snow/rain mix was seeping into my unlaced trainers, mingling with now damp socks and increasingly frozen toes. the idiosyncrasies of winter sometimes catch me, and my feet, off guard. i’m forever concentrating on what’s on top, that i tend to leave what’s on the bottom out in the literal cold. it’s been years since i’ve worn appropriate footwear over the course of a winter – i have a feeling that i’ve cottoned on and in the nick of time – this time around.


hunter llbean


➝ source : urban hiker w/shearling via coach (coach?!)

➝ source : original quilted lace-ups via hunter

➝ source : bean boots, which, let’s be honest you won’t be able to get until sometime in 2019, via ll bean

➝ source : shearling-lined nubuck boots via miu miu (at $1700 they’re completely justifiable, right?)

“a wind has blown the rain away and blown the sky away and all the leaves away, and the trees stand. i think, i too, have known autumn too long.” // e.e. cummings

it feels as if as soon as the chill swept in, there was ushered in the sartorial equivalent of planting spring in cement.

i understand, it’s difficult to say goodbye, it’s hard to break course from sunshine and temps that keep us dressed in summer dresses and bare legs to nubby coats, woolen snoods that keep noses from icebergs, cashmere boy-shorts worn over cotton fleece tights, to socks over those, to mitts, to toques, to scarves, to… oh my.

i get it.

but think of the entrance you could make – layers for miles could unearth an eternal spring.

there’s no snow-cover, we’ve only had one day under 0°C, and most days are spent indoors. wear what you will; florals, bare legs, flats – no matter the weather, you can always wear something over/under.








➝ source : leather appliqué overcoat via delpozo

➝ source : embroidered check top via scanlon theodore

➝ source : fendi orchid print skirt via farfetch

➝ source : belgravia ballerinas via aquazzura


November 23, 2015

“i like nonfiction books about people with wretched lives.” // d. sedaris

i was once a voracious reader – the fatter the fiction, the better.

i was the girl that took all 1488 pages of vikram seth’s a suitable boy on a sun-shiny holiday – instead of sunning myself, i sat under the lushest palm i could find, to banish the tan i didn’t want, and to keep the sun out of my eyes so that i could read from the moment i had that first breakfast piña colada, to that last ruddy-cheeked moment in the breeze of the evening.

yet somewhere in the time between my late twenties and late – sorry, i lost my train of thought – i’ve become the unwilling bystander to the made-up, the far-fetched, to fantasy.

whether it’s having feet too firmly fit in earth to read about make-believe – non-fiction – essays, long-form articles, op-eds, memoirs and auto-and-solo-biographies are the only tales as of late that i have a taste, and time for. if it’s an allegory or fairy tale that i’m after, the closest i’m getting to that – is in the telling of histories of those who turned their imaginations inside out and into reality for themselves, and let everyone else around them be privy to their outcomes.










➝ source : hunger makes me a modern girl / by carrie brownstein

➝ source : an emergency in slow motion / the inner life of diane arbus by william todd schultz

➝ source : empress of fashion / by a.m. stuart

➝ source : the folded clock / by heidi julavits

“brand is just a perception, and perception will match reality over time.” // e. musk

if i were as superficial as i’ve alleged myself to be over the last nine years or so, i’d be surrounded by a literal embankment of products whose covers were gorgeous, yet whose contents had cemented over ages of disuse.

luckily, i have a modicum of self-restraint, and actually relish using products that actually, you know, work – no matter what sort of packaging they come in.

however, would it be my will to pick up what-have-you and sundry that looked good enough to frame – could you really blame me, just look at these little bottles of monochrome joy.



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➝ source : milk anti-frizz nourishing treatment via reverie

➝ source : super facial serum via verso

➝ source : balm via olio e osso

➝ source : serum via somme institute


November 18, 2015

“damn it all, you can’t have the crown of thorns and the thirty pieces of silver.” // a. bevan

there are times, when the only thing that will give your head a shake – to get out the bad, the terrible and the increasingly disheartening news – is to remind yourself of those small things, the lovely, the inspired – whatever it is that gives us some small bit of a reprieve from a never-ending cycle of terribleness.

art, music, my kid singing her little emo heart out to ryan adams version of 1989, a good piece of chocolate, a walk in the dark when the wind has calmed and your head can clear. a small dose of delight, a brief reminder that goodness exists – because, i know i’m in need. far be it for me to get heavy in this space – but, guys, i’m feeling it. the weight of consciousness has become abundant.

so, i offer a briefest anchor on this wednesday morning – of shimmer and shine – let it reflect a little bit of badness, and turn it into something pretty, for just a minute.





➝ source : cédric charlier striped sequin dress via farfetch

➝ source : studded star metallic sweater via anthony vaccarello

➝ source : metallic panel skirt via sonia rykiel

➝ source : bow sandals via delpozo

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