It’s that time of year where I dramatically wipe my brow and say, “Have you ever even been this hot in your life??!” and then you say “Phew it’s a scorcher” and then we collectively try to remember if temperatures ever climbed higher than 95 degrees last summer (they did).
I figured I had three options today: I could melt. I could curl up in an air conditioned Zara somewhere or I could go to Starbucks and watch the city slump while I slurped iced beverages. My darling mamma, constantly monitoring my caffeine levels, surprised me with a *$’s card in the mail and seeing as how I’m practically living in poverty after handing over all my money to Rebecca Minkoff last weekend, my decision was pretty much made for me (noregretsmostamazingbagever).
YIKES have you ever even been this hot in your life?
Spent the 4th of July in a Brooklyn backyard that had just as many puppies as it did hipsters but honestly, I wouldn’t want it any other way. I decided to celebrate the occasion by whipping out my favorite razor blade necklace. A friend told me it was very “emo chic” but please, have you ever seen an emo kid with such a standout neon belt? My friend Ryan opted for more traditional patriotism with his red, white and blue and did you know? He’s a top notch grill master. Just check out those shrimp skewers.
Beach escapes to the Hamptons, seashell hunts and human cattle herds around Prince Street. See? Summer isn’t so bad.
A trip to the High Line proved to be very handsy — and also impossibly crowded. I blame the amazing mango chili popsicles to be found every few feet. And the fantastic views of the city, though none as great as what you can find street-level. Some friends and I were romping around midtown last night when we stumbled across the Empire State Building and pleasantly remembered we live in New York City. It’s easy to forget sometimes.
The couture shows in Paris held my attention for a hot minute this week but then I realized it’s impossible to lust after clothing when your only sartorial goal is to have as little fabric touching your body as possible. But oh, that red coat dress with the pockets. Welcome to Dior, Mr. Simons.
One of these days, I’ll go to the Met Gala. Until then, I’ll sit at home and eat leftover pizza and teddy grahams and refresh Twitter every five seconds waiting for Rachel Zoe to post another twitpic.
Today I threw it out there that maybe last night’s red carpet wasn’t as amazing as it has been in years past (a side effect of hype, no doubt), and you all FREAKED OUT. But because I’m not about to gush about *gasp* gold sequins or 90s lipstick, I decided to focus on the one lady that actually piqued my interest: Elsa Schiaparelli.
Ok so I’m slightly embarrassed that I only knew her for that one lobster dress prior to “fashion prom” fever, but that’s more than most of the models partying down the street could say last night. Anyway, because I’m a serious investigative journalist I did a little poking around on the Internet and I found THIS AMAZING THING that Racked posted earlier. Not only was Elsa Schiaparelli “that Italian artist who makes clothes,” she was also the world’s smartest woman. Behold, her 12 commandments for women:
So I’ve been thinking a lot about princesses lately. As in, how to become one. In theory, this shouldn’t be that difficult. I’m practically a Royal Wedding expert — I was on that beat HARD last year — and if there’s anyone to turn to for princess lessons, it’s obviously Kate Middleton, who’s not so much a princess as she is the world’s most perfect person with a penchant for high street fashion and cocker spaniels.** And, lest we forget, her parents were merely millionaires trying to put their daughter through college when she cleverly used her girl-next-door charms to win over a man who just so happened to hit it big at the gene pool, premature balding aside, of course. Really, he’s the lucky one, right? Kate did all the work. So maybe the moral of this story is to go to school and play field hockey and wear nude pantyhose and shop at Zara and be your best self and eventually, someday, the man of your dreams will take notice and before you know it, bam, you’re a princess and everyone wins. If you know what you’re doing, how hard can it be?
In the event that the last seven days of your life have been as messy and mind blowing as mine, I give you this. Somewhere, this fluffy brute not only actually exists, he’s been given the fitting title of “world’s cutest dog” (like seriously, it’s official). And then, because Urban Outfitters has been jonesing for some positive PR, they decided to jump on the adorable pomeranian bandwagon and bring us this incredible stuffed likeness.
Spent this rainy Sunday doing a little sole searching a la literally looking for shoes. I’m in desperate need of sensible black ballet flats but my last shopping trip resulted in a pair of sky-high wedges and pink (really pink) trousers. C’est la vie, no?
Sooooo remember when Coco Rocha and Jessica Stam wore fake nails and really bad weaves and pranced around in front of Steven Meisel for Vogue Italia and called it a “haute mess” and everyone else called it racist?
Well anyway, that’s old news. But the point is, before there were controversial photos, there were controversial GIFs. And in the spirit of controversial GIFs, I decided to make a few of them myself.
Here I am in Central Park with a really big stick that I later used to swipe hot dogs out of people’s hands (just kidding) (kind of).
Here I am COMING AT YOU:
And here I am hopping across the street without ever moving my legs:
Let’s drop any glamorous pretenses and just call this one a “hot mess.”
Ohh but don’t you like my purple jacket?
Today, I tackled the beast. It was a six hour battle where victory was never certain. It was hard. It was scary. It was physically and emotionally draining.
Today, I cleaned out my closet.
As a general a rule I don’t believe in spring cleaning, mostly because I try to avoid anything that may require exertion on my end, which cleaning inevitably does. But then I realized it was taking me at least 20 minutes longer to get ready in the morning because I spent too much time digging around for dresses and tights and things I could have sworn I once possessed before it occurred to me my closet was actually a black hole and blah blah blah, I decided to straighten up. It was now or never.
It took me six hours, with several meltdowns and froyo breaks in between.
Whatever I like the Hunger Games. I’ve spent more time than what’s probably normal wondering how I would impress the Gamemakers inside the arena and have come to the conclusion that not only do I have zero survival skills, I would probably be the first one to go because even in the flatest of footwear I have a tendency to go tumbling down subway steps, etc.
ANYWAY. I wouldn’t even mind because I’d be Kathryn, Girl on Fire. Which means I’d probably be wearing this embellished little number by Matthew Williamson. Heck, I’d even volunteer myself as tribute if it meant letting Cinna have his way with me. The black studded shoulder strap on this dress has an edgy warrior princess feel to it, and even though the colors sort of take me back to my maroon and gold days as a Chesterton High School Trojan (lolz), they’re still sort of perfect.
I know I’m not the only one obsessed. Who’s going to see the movie this weekend?