Posts from May 2015

“we’re all pretty bizarre. some of us are just better at hiding it, that’s all.” // j. hughes

you’re all probably much too young to remember the cinematic, yet aging masterpiece that is ‘the breakfast club‘ — but for me, it left an indelible mark ever since i watched it, at the much too young age of nine.

rented! from a video store! on a vhs tape! to be played back on a vcr! it was by my request that my parents sullied the minds and ears of a group of nine year olds with a veritable shit-ton of swears and themes that were most definitely a bit too mature.

as jaded as any nine-year old could be, it didn’t shock or awe, but it stirred something in me that i don’t think i’ve had the want to shake in, oh-sigh-time-is-a-relentless-bitch, 30 years – and that’s that i think claire should’ve left allison’s mall makeover at home.

it’s bothered me for years that a certain look, that dirty-haired, kohl-rimmed eye, slightly wan complexion had to be ‘prettied up’ with pinks, frills, and a headband seemingly made out of the elastic waist of a pair of department store lady’s underwear. the makeover makeover makeover makeover, [click it, come on, do it!], has always left me underwhelmed.

i just don’t think people need them – we’re pretty good how we are, or however we allow ourselves to leave the house each day – sure, sometimes we need to be refreshed, renewed, or updated evenbut i think unless someone tells you they want to change who they are, i’d aver – leave well enough alone. it’s not an issue of being resistant to change, but settling in, quite comfortably thank you very much, into who you are.

okay, that’s it – this oprah-lite-self-acceptance week has got to end.






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➝ source : acne retexture pad via cane + austin

➝ source : clio eyeguard waterproof eyeliner via peach & lily

➝ source : sheer lip color in bobbi via bobbi brown cosmetics

➝ source : blush in gaiety via nars

“you want to remember that while you’re judging the book, the book is also judging you.” // s. king

i can’t remember when i wasn’t being told to not judge a book by its cover – i still have to remind myself of it now – and of course, i hear the words slipping out my mouth, repeating that idiom to my daughter, ad nauseum x infinity. it’s a lot.

it’s understandable to want to thwart the too-fast judgement based on how something looks. just because something, or someone is appealing in some seeable sort of way, doesn’t necessarily mean it’ll be good for you, or meant for you. let me take you down certain-good-looking-boyfriends lane, and you’ll find that their covers were the only thing that was going for them; and that sometimes underneath that candy-coating, what’s inside does not taste good.

yet, how else does one first get an inkling that attraction might not linger too far behind the surface? for me, it’s been a matter of trial and error. sure, i enjoyed looking – but after a minute or two, the looking turned into a mild regret – the type that makes you realize, not all beauty is meant to be, or meant for you.




marcjacobs➝ source : the bottle delights me, the scent would kill me. outrageously vibrant perfume via diana vreeland fragrance 

➝ source : i adore this frock, but it would remain white for half a minute. it would be ruined with one pet of my over-zealous dog. sailor cotton oxford dress via j.w. anderson

➝ source : color block makes me gaga, but i have vowed many a time to never wear a heel again. if i stick to anything, it’ll be that one thing. #pain thom browne asymmetric colour-block pumps via ssense

➝ source : this is fabulous, it wouldn’t fit my wallet. alas. optical stripe sally bag via marc jacobs

“follow your inner moonlight; don’t hide the madness.” // a. ginsberg

i remember wearing that pantsuit, paired with ankle-length, pointy-toed zip-up boots.

my hair must have been ironed straight as well, because i cannot recall a time before or after when i felt as uncomfortable in my own skin as i did that evening. at least i hope it was the evening, because if the cold light of day spied me in that outfit, i think i probably would’ve turned to ash.

keep in mind that i’ve been carrying around this shame for roughly twelve years; can you fathom the residual humiliation i’ve been lugging around since i was four and was caught playing doctor with the neighbour boy and my mother walked in whilst in-pseudo-flagrante-delicto? the interest on that would be enormous – but, i digress.

this is why if like me, you believe in the transformative power of clothes – and that wearing something that feels disingenuous to yourself can feel something like a huge, earth-shattering lie.

look, i’m not saying that clothes can change the world, but if it can change the world you’ve made for yourself, why not wear those things that make you feel more like you, and less like anyone else?






➝ source : layered flared dress via sacai

➝ source : ann demeulemeester textured printed bag via farfetch

➝ source : studded ‘favor’ wedge sandals via robert clergerie

➝ source : peplum stripe dress via the whitepepper

“superstition is foolish, childish, primitive and irrational – but how much does it cost you to knock on wood?” // j. viorst

if i had to collect my eccentricities like drops of water in a bucket, i’d realize that the load would be rather heavy, and that in the reflection, i’d probably recognize my mother’s face looking back at me. it’s a funny thought, as other than the hue of my eyes, i’ve pretty much amassed a 5’2″ collection of genes and traits from my paternal side.

growing up, these seemingly senseless superstitions were fodder for the biggest eye rolls and sighs of resignation you’ve ever seen. if i had forgotten anything after leaving the house, coming back to retrieve it was not permitted; and handing something over the threshold of the door was an enormous nyet – as you could be inviting evil back into the house with you.

and then there were the safety pins – affixed to the inside seams of almost everything i owned as a child, and of course, my wedding dress – so that evil would be turned around, escorted by the shoulder and shown the way out, because i was forever being watched over by the pins that warded off the evil eye.

to this day, i don’t let anyone whistle in the house, i’d never give anyone a knife as a gift, and don’t think for a minute, that i didn’t affix pins to my daughter’s onesies when she was born… just in case.







➝ source : rosa de la cruz rose gold & diamond safety pin earring via browns

➝ source : safety pin top via red valentino

➝ source : comme des garçons paneled safety pin detail skirt via farfetch

➝ source : punk pandora via charlotte olympia x tom binns



“after luncheon the sun, conscious that it was saturday, would blaze an hour longer in the zenith,…” // m. proust

and lo – the first long weekend of the summer is upon us.

leading up to this blessed event, were the droves who came clomping along to the city’s biggest and best park, with heavy ankle boots paired with the shortest-short-shorts of denim; arriving with the most coveted of summer-time hauls – terroni pizza boxes, walking-stick size freezies, and shhhh, don’t tell the fuzz – icy beer.

and let me say it now, the winter was most obviously brutal – as the pasty knees and casper-white shoulders of our collective youth was a sad sight to behold. yet, if there was any doubt that summer has indeed been introduced to us yet once again, the first sunny, warm day in the city on the eve of a long weekend – is proof positive that hope lives in us all.

for me – it lies in the constant stream of a/c and the promise of endless slurpees. enjoy your holiday monday…










➝ source : starburst sunglasses in navy via karen walker

➝ source : foil-print cotton jersey via vivienne westwood anglomania

➝ source : frame denim distressed shorts via farfetch

➝ source : thakoon addition ankle boots via shoescribe




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