Accidents are the Best Ideas

I've been dying to get started on this story, because I'm obsessed with a good pair of ripped black nylons. However I just spent close to an hour searching through google images for a decent example. That's just how this look is, incredibly difficult to wear properly. Ladies, and gents, this is an art. Just like Motherwell knows where to put his brushstroke, that tear has to be just as subtle and just as calculated. Then on top of it all, it has got to look like an accident. I like the pair shown here, found on http://kateomalleyyy.blogspot.com. They are just right, in that they are unpredictable, follow no set pattern, look like were an accident but not like she was in an accident.  You can't just buy a pair of nylons and cut a bunch of holes in them to look cool. Then you're just going to look like a girl who bought a pair of nylons and cut a bunch of holes in them to look cool. You have to be clever to look interesting. 

Last summer I was living in New Haven, CT, land of Yale and sitting at an overly crowded coffee shop when I noticed one of those rare birds. The beautiful Yale student who doesn't talk too loud, or dress like Ann Taylor is her best friend, or somehow finds a way to make Fiorentini Baker's look bad simply because she doesn't understand they have to go with your body and the outfit. Just that they are expensive isn't enough. This girl was the perfect coincidence. Her long dark hair was unkempt like a leaves cascading down a lightpost. Her body was tall and thin and her face was bored, but used to it. Her blazer was loose enough to move around and she wore a short black skirt, skin tight, with tight torn in just the right places. She had probably accrued each tear as she went about her day. Maybe checking the mail a neighbors dog lept on her. When she was late for class she fell once, books flying and all. Perhaps she washed them with her car keys by accident. My favorite part about her outfit, (yes it was the tights was that she wore it as though she had no idea that she was even wearing tights, let alone that they were ripped. She had other things on her mind. And those are the girls, those are the people who always look best, no matter what. It's never the girl who's jeans are torn every 1.75 inches at 4 inches wide. She's the girl who looks at everyone no matter what she's doing. She's the girl who pays more attention to strangers than how much sugar she's putting in her own coffee. Even though she's going to have to drink it. What could be more important than you? Despite the idea that someone may need your help, you should really just be lost in your thoughts all of the time. That's how you end up with a pair of perfectly ripped tights, by not trying to.

Refer to Wang 2009.

Deee Gorgeous. Deee Groovy. Deee lite Deee lite Deee lite Dee...

I'm just saying yes to these. I had a crushed velvet black headband when I was 12 that covered my forehead and ears, over a short bob that flipped out under it and huge hoop earrings that swung in motion. Think Lady Kier. When ever our french teacher called on me the boys would sing "Groove is in the Heart" and in key I might add. I was in  "deee-lite." Who was cooler than her anyway? And it was French class. Ooh la la la la la la la la.

These pants are in perfect key to me as well. They look so cool they make me want to move to France. They make me want to not just wear them, but wear them on the back of a motorcycle with a lollipop in my mouth and a  blond pony tail spinning in the air. And nothing but a black bra on and some necklaces around.

Yes to these for so many reasons, but mostly because they are such a lovely departure from the 10 pairs of black leggings you have in your closet at the ready. These are black, but then they are grey too, they are white too, and all because the light in the room is hitting them, or maybe that's just the fabulous in the air.

(Pair them with some minnetonka moccasins and make your spirit guides proud.) "Groove is in the heart!"

(photo found on joeybgood.tumblr.com)

The Viridi-Anne's "Neither World"

There's nothing I love more than a painting major transposing his love of design into the moving, and all too elusive, object of the uman being.

It's so hard to pin a person down long enough to change what they wear. So often I'm so bored at what I see. It's so boring. Depressing even. Kitten sweatshirts at the supermarket and women in heels and office pants. Everyone looks so sad and confused.

If I can run into this outfit, this person, in my waking life, say in the organic section, then my waking life just got much more worth waking for. I would even offer to buy him a falafel.

Merci beacoup Tomoaki Okaniwa. And thank you.

I heart Suri's Burn Book and Kiernan Shipka

I had my first job when I was 12. I babysat like crazy. I woke myself up every weekday morning without hitting snooze once (while my mother slept) to get myself ready for school. I stole a cookie or two from the cookie tin for breakfast, made sure I had enough money for lunch and stood oustide in the freezing cold waiting for the bus, which was always laate, in an outfit that was not warm, but more fashionable than anyone else in the suburbs would bother to find. 

If I could have wished for two wishes they would have been to move to New York City and to have access to the best clothing money could buy...a 12 year old.

So I love Kiernan Shipka. She doesn’t dress like a little girl. She dresses like a person with a mind. A fashion lover starts at a young age. It’s the same as loving horses, or dancing. You've always loved it.  It’s been inside of you a hundred years and it's never going to die. It's not just adults who should have access to good clothing.

You don’t have to be famous to be a Suri, you just have to be alive.

Dear Santa, Anything Zara, Thank you :)

Especiall the Studio Trousers in a size xxxxs. I'll write soon with my address. We even have a chimney.