Posts from November 2014

“even the largest avalanche is triggered by small things.” // v. vinge

the caveat with carrying a big bag, and only a big-big bag, is that when i’m in need of something daintier, and muchmuch smaller, i’m SOL.

but there’s not much that brings an eveningish look down than carrying a bag fit for a laptop, a change of shoes, and a midday meal. this is not a moment when everything and the kitchen sink will do; you’d be better served with something that comes in a petite – but packs a rather large wallop.

a minaudière needn’t be mini on élan, (je parle très bien francais); but big on impressions.

plus, i’ve heard it said, it’s not the size that counts. that’s true, right?





➝ source : gino noir grain caviar clutch via jérôme dreyfuss

➝ source : ariel georgiana clutch via anya hindmarch

➝ source : oscar solid round clutch via edie parker

➝ source : large zip pouch via madewell

“i don’t eat bubble gum, but I like the smell.” // k. lagerfeld

i quit gum when i quit smoking – and much like karl, (in this instance alone, i’m sure), i no longer give it a chew.

i like the thought of it, especially a stick of big red because, cinnamon – but it’s just not worth the effort. that burst of flavour – is just that; a quick bolt of sublime with little in return – nothing, nada, no pay out. what’s the point? and then you’re literally stuck, having no idea where to put the sticky mess because who the hell knows where that wrapper went?

the smartest way to make that piece of gum last for seven years is to wear it, no need to worry about your dental work.

vibrant, poppy, brash pieces of plastic and glass that make you pop, and it’s all sugar-free.


➝ source : moutton collet pink bulbine earrings via moda operandi

➝ source : acrylic gorgeousness via corey moranis

➝ source : scale bracelet via lizzie fortunato

➝ source : yellow necklace via nikki couppee

“i have always been a romantic, one of those people who believes that a woman in pink circus tights contains all the secrets of the universe.” // t. robbins

to look at me, you’d think there was a part of me that was rather old-fashioned. we’re talking early twentieth-century old fashioned; as the only part of my leg i’ll let the world get a quick peek of is a tiny sliver of my they’re-so-white-they-could-be-blue ankles.

i know, i’m scandalous.

if i had a complex with my legs, (read: hell, yeah – i do) – it started from the bottom up. i didn’t like to wear sandals, because i didn’t like to show my heels, and then, i chose to cover my shins, because my skin was as white as casper, and well, those eastern european bristles were decidedly not. though red-hot rays have since taken care of that, the habit remained. i just prefer to keep my legs to myself, and to give you the covered-up version. if i’m not in a legging (never as pants, mind you!), once the weather gets too cold for my talus, i’m shimmying right into a pair of tights. 200 denier and up, please.



➝ source : moonstruck tights via hansel from basel

➝ source : skiing tights via tsumori chisato

➝ source : diamond pointelle tights via topshop

➝ source : iceland tights in navy via a.p.c.

“as we grow older, our bodies get shorter and our anecdotes longer.” // r. quillen

the chill, it’s getting through the cracks – and it’s creeping toward the small of my back.

at this time every year, i bring out the long-sleeve shirts to pair under all the same dresses i wear over each and every season, adding in thermal short-shorts to cover up every inch of my arse, making sure they’re pulled up high. i don’t mind the cold, i just don’t enjoy it getting into the small places that rarely ever get caught up in it.

so why is it then i’m alone in this sea of shorty cropped tops, jackets and coats? in being cut short they just don’t scan – they go as far as a high waist and then leave you hanging; with your hips, forgotten – out in the cold.

there are no long johns that’ll make this an option i can get behind.




➝ source : chloé batwing cropped jacket via browns

➝ source : lurex crop top via topshop

➝ source : cropped shirt via kenzo

➝ source : marc jacobs cropped jacket via far fetch

“the way that people dress makes them part of an army, dressed in their own uniform, determined to do something.” // s. menkes

though i’m still not quite sure what it is that i’m determined to do, the uniform i’ve worn, since roughly the age of 14 hasn’t changed all that much.

it has faltered a few times, under the guise of growth or the illusion of maturity, (did maturity necessitate a pantsuit and a pointy-toed pair of ankle boots, or was that just a momentary lapse of self?) or did a momentary need to feel like someone different persuade me to buy those high heels and mid-shin skirts and suddenly i’d be that carrie and my life would suddenly start again, afresh, and anew?

of course, it never lasted. my uniform has stayed true, (black frock, black tights, shit-kicking shoes) for the better part of two decades, if only because it is what it is, and i am, who i am – without having changed all that much since my middle adolescence.

and if i have, it was only to get better.




➝ source : flared dress via proenza schouler

➝ source : james dress via stella mccartney

➝ source : smocked sleeveless dress via the whitepepper

➝ source : ankle boot creepers via underground

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