Screwed around last night with Kristin..CVS is a real life wonderland. More in a bit..
Actually I have about twenty favorite ever shots of Kate but this really is my all time favorite of Angelina.
(Alexander Wang dress, Balenciaga sanadals)
Went with the hair up in the end.
Last month the W San Diego sent along an invite to stay a night and see the Gossip play..the whole champagne and strawberry treatment..literally. It’s always somewhat of a surprise to have anything blog-related happen in San Diego since this city counts fashion pretty low on its list of priorities, which is actually kind of nice sometimes to be honest. But I’ve been to this location a bunch of times before and it smells really good (seriously, every last air particle in the building is subtly aromatic), provides beach ball shaped pillows in the rooms that are the perfect size and weight to throw at other humans, and has a really good pool. So I grabbed my favorite people and got sort of dressed up for once..ended up having a pretty unforgettable time. Thank you to Grace for everything and sorry we only have photos of the ride there…battery issues..but it seems I got the ridiculous poses out of the way early on anyway. Definitely not the first time that’s happened, you’d think we would have learned by now to bring an extra. Beth Ditto was ♥.
(Alexander Wang cardigan, thrifted Ralph Lauren shirt, American Apparel shorts, Forever 21 stirrup leggings, vintage coin clutch, BCBG Mendel boots)
I get a lot of questions about what I wear when dressing way down, maybe to go out to buy let’s say..batteries and orange juice or something equivalently random but absolutely necessary. Or to be specific here, to the AT&T store (my iPhone troubles over the last few months have allowed strangely chummy relationships to blossom at this particular location). This flannel shirt is at the top of my list for comfort..there was a semi-depressing phase recently when I wore it for three days straight, including to sleep. Hmm yes well maybe more than semi. But a shirt to feel defeated in has probably earned its place by years of being broken in to rumpled perfection. So this is actually a good thing. Plus I think my dad has the exact same one in his closet, making it a legitimate ‘classic’. He calls everything a classic. Or uptown.
And yes though I’m (finally!) wearing the BCBG Mendel boots, which I think clock in at around 5 inches, this is one of my most favored lazy outfit templates. Huge shirt, tiny to the point of invisible shorts, warmish leggings, and drapey cardigan. Frye boots figure into this equation sometimes too, but the Mendels are probably the most walkable of my monstrously tall shoe arsenal. That ledge in the back provides some sort of stabilizing support that I’ll leave to a podiatrist to explain.
I’m in no way saying that this is the exact bottom point of how casual I get or that I think I look really good or anything, but what I find interesting about this more extreme area of ‘comfort dressing’ is the relationship it has with how much someone cares about style. For me there’s a point of bland dressing at which I no longer feel comfortable because I don’t feel like myself anymore, but I can’t assume that this is a common way to regard lazy days. There seems to be some kind of belief, at least in California, that if you wear anything aside from jeans or sweats that you’re automatically dressed up and have to be on your way somewhere that would validate such attire. But there are infinite ways to be comfortable that integrate personal style, and honestly I think sometimes the sloppiest pieces are the sexiest. I’ve never really cared what people on the street thought about my outfit so I’m not trying to gripe whatsoever, either about feeling different or not having any sort of fashion eye candy to check out on strangers. I just think it’s interesting that such a large majority of the population seems to have it ingrained into their minds that fashion and comfort are mutually exclusive, especially with the rise of the championing of street style and apparent effortlessness in the bubble that is the blog world.
(Kate Moss for Topshop dress, Frye motorcycle boots)
I accidentally checked into a really creepy hotel in LA on Thursday. As in I meant to be in a hotel but it was supposed to be….not this. There was something Al Pacino in The Devil’s Advocate about way too many people lurking in the corridors and I kept on giving myself heart attacks by leaning against this crazy black button while plucking my eyebrows, which against all common sense would cause the toilet to flush in an extremely abrupt manner. So I wheedled my friend Chris into exploring its weirdness with me, or as the exact conversation went:
Me: “What are you doing, I’m in a hotel and have no one to ransack the ice machines with.”
Him: “Well I do want to see if I still fit in one.”
I changed into my favorite floral dress and half an hour later we were united and off to mingle with the extremely varied guests. Well, after he took this beautiful piece of artwork off the wall for me to pose with awkwardly. I would have said I would never stay there again but after the amount of randomness that ensued I just might..even if it was only to steal the no hanger sign which I idiotically didn’t this time around.