Be back in a GIF-fy

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?

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Caution: Spring cleaning work zone

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.

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Let the (Hunger) Games Begin

Matthew Williamson dress

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?
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Because spring is always in fashion

Happy first day of spring! I decided to celebrate the occasion by accessorizing my most flowery frilly dress with my oh so preppy sterling silver monogram necklace and a razor blade. And then I decided to take a photo and edit it using a super depressing black and white filter to remind myself that even though the sun is shining and birds are chirping and flowers are blooming, that could stop at anytime.

Spring has sprung, lovers.

Dress from Target (on clearance!), monogram necklace from Tiffany and Co., razor blade necklace from Marc by Marc Jacobs

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Words to live by: Karl Lagerfeld…again

There have been several occasions when Karl Lagerfeld’s words to live by have made us nod admiringly at his wisdom. There have been several more occasions when Karl Lagerfeld’s words to live by have made us WTF’d. This is one such moment. In an interview with Harper’s Bazaar, the kaiser opens up about the mundane moments of his life that aren’t really mundane at all but rather remind us that we are all mere mortals while he is a god who cannot be touched:

“I never have lunch, but when I do, I ask them to bring it to me in the house. I actually have two houses. This house here, it’s only for sleeping and sketching, and I have another house two-and-a-half meters away for lunch and dinner and to see people, and where the cook is and all that.”

I guess that explains why he never goes grocery shopping unless flanked by Saskia de Brauw and Caroline Brasch Nielsen.

Oh also, his hair isn’t actually white, his coat tails are made by Dior, he only ever drinks Diet Coke and Choupette is doing just fine. Read the whole interview here.

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Five reasons why I’m kind of addicted to Burt’s Bees

I was digging around in my purse yesterday after brunch, getting ready to pay my part of the check when I froze, panic flooding through me. It was gone. I furiously took out my keys, metro card, wallet and phone, frantically searching for the one thing I make sure to never ever leave home without: my Burt’s Bees Beeswax Lip Balm.

Soothing. Cooling. Refreshing, 100% natural. There’s a lot of love packed into that little golden tube. I’ve been slightly addicted for several years now, going so far as to keep one in every purse I own in case I ever come across a situation where my lips are dry and cracked and hurty and in need of instant conditioning. So when I realized today I may have lost a Burt’s along the way, I instantly headed over to the drugstore to restock.

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I swear I’m still alive and here’s proof

It’s ok if you don’t remember me. I’m that girl who used to blog every single day about pretty things that struck her fancy and now sometimes, occasionally, maybe if I’m thinking about it, I’ll throw up a worthless post about fallen mannequins and the like. Allow me two seconds while I complain about how busy I’ve been and then I’ll apologize for being so neglectful and then I’ll beg you to bear with me while I sort out  this grown up life that suddenly has been thrusted upon me and finally I’ll promise to never let a week go by without a solid post again. Deal?

Oh hey–there I am! Wearing an obnoxiously shiny pink skirt for no reason in the middle of the day! Walter Baker makes you think you can pull off anything, you know? But there’s also something deliciously satisfying about getting all dolled up to do mundane and uninteresting things like, say, go to the grocery store, isn’t there? In June I bought a pair of vintage velvet Yves St. Laurent stilettos, and so far I’ve only ever worn them to vacuum around my apartment. Mostly because I can’t actually walk in them–they’re way too high and my ankles are way too wobbly and I’m pretty much THE definition of a hot mess when I try to strut down the sidewalk. But also because it’s fun to add a little beauty for beauty’s sake–something that serves absolutely no purpose other than to make me happy while doing household chores.

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