“everyone in the world should have a trench coat, and there should be a trench coat for everyone in the world.” // a. ahrendts
as the former ceo of burberry, that would be the thing to say, yet i can’t deny that she’s got a point.
you could be dressed in anything at all, from high to low street, you could run out with your jams on to walk the dog any early morning sunday, but if you’ve got a trench on – you’ve turned yourself from grubby to wonderfully european with not much else but a lapel and a belt around your waist.
but don’t be fooled, i’m not talking about a beige mac with a footie-wife plaid-lining, there’s a trench for every taste. there’s the dainty feminine, there are those that skew androgynous, those that travel for the avant-garde, and of course – the classic.
mine is a mix of modish 60s mac, but in gothic black. what’s yours?
“once you can accept the universe as being something expanding into an infinite nothing which is something, wearing stripes with plaid is easy.” // a. einstein
being born and raised in the great white north, and having had my eyebrows raised by sctv at an impressionable age, it occurred to me rather early on, that as canadians, we’re an odd lot. and if there was anything that i tried to be, it was as far and away from the likes of a hoser from the great white north. to be very clear, i never pronounced it aboot, and i never wore plaid.
the way i saw it, plaid was the pattern of the lumberjack, the suburban hippy, and even worse – in the age of singles, it was the textile of grunge – and my mod leanings would never allow for that.
of course, i’ve broadened my horizons just a bit since the early 90s – thankfully, and though plaid is not a perennial favourite, i have been able to see the charm of it, from time to time. it’s just a bit further removed from lumberjackets and bob and doug mckenzie.
“to one’s enemies: “I hate myself more than you ever could.” // a. de botton
i’ve always felt that a soupçon of self-deprecation held an immense element of charm.
i don’t mind seeing the ridiculous, finding the odd, being at one with my idiosyncrasies and occasionally making light of them for show, or better yet, a laugh. i’m allowed to do that – it doesn’t mean i hate myself, (i’m looking at you, dove), or think of myself as less than. i just know that in life, when things, or more to the point, we, become a little absurd and everything goes a bit pear shaped, it’s better to be able to laugh at yourself, than make a puddle and cry.
however, there are those moments, when i am just a little puzzled by own natural reactions to things. i’m caught by a degree of chagrin, a particular sort of discomfort that comes with finding myself attracted to something (or, someone) i wouldn’t normally have ever been pulled in by. and that’s where i’m suddenly finding myself.
i like it, but i’ve never liked it before, and it’s starting to shake my very foundation…
➝ source : rivets flap dakotah crossbody via coach (COACH?!)
➝ source : i believe i’ve made my relative disdain for alexander wang fairly clear. if not, well, i usually can’t stand his stuff, but this blouse is rather nice. irregular pleat front top via alexander wang
➝ source : i’m not usually in on the joke with overtly tongue-in-cheek design, but i have to admit, i dig this bananas frankie satin dress via markus lupfer
➝ source : generally, i loathe what hedi slimane has done to Y/SL. the ragamuffin 80s street urchin doesn’t do much for me at all, but i wouldn’t kick this frock out of bed for eating crackers. saint laurent beaded kaftan via matches
“i believe in dressing for the occasion. there’s a time for sweater, sneakers and levis and a time for the full-dress jazz.” // g. rogers
i think it probably started with the men.
think back a handful of years, and you’ll remember it started showing up, these tall, lanky men dressed in slim suits and at their feet, a pair of trainers instead of a pair of brogues. for the office, for an occasion, for the hell of it – it became a thing; and not too long after that, the girls started picking it up, and it thrilled me to no end.
since you’re undoubtedly aware of my opinion on gorgeous, (yet hellishly painful), high-heeled shoes; the ban has not been lifted, and the introduction of the trainer becoming synonymous with being dressed, was probably as welcomed as elegant flats being deemed a suitable replacement for the heel. these are giddy, heady times, my friends – when you can slip on a frock, tie a bow on your trainers and you’re set – perhaps not for high-tea with the queen, but for a day out on the town, nothing could be better.
➝ source : oui & non broderie-anglaise dress via kenzo
➝ source : francy ‘space glitter’ high tops via golden goose