At school, my friend Alina wore her hair in tight french braids tied at the ends with beautiful grosgrain ribbon. As my hairdos were a bit lopsided, I was always envious of hers. To this day, I love beautiful ribbon, and a grown woman who wears ribbons in her hair is all sorts of fabulous in my book. I’m not sure that I can get away with grosgrain around my top knot, but on a low ponytail, well, that looks super chic.
My grandmother’s staple evening attire was a crisp white shirt worn with tailored black pants and plenty of diamonds. She must have owned at least 20 shirts; the grander the event, the more ruffles on the shirt. I have one of her shirts, a Theory one with ruffles a plenty. It’s completely unlike me, and yet I feel very much myself in it.
This is by far my favourite neckline on a dress. If a bride were looking for something ultra simple, modern and effortless, I might suggest this Gabriela Hearst dress. I love the white silk cigarette pants underneath. I’d pair the dress with these Manolo brogues; veil, optional.
I was looking at American architect, Eugene Tsui‘s nature inspired houses this afternoon, and imagining what it would be like to live inside his amazing Fish House. It’s bizarre and otherworldly, much like all his structures. The house was designed for Tsui’s parents and is modeled after a tardigrade, which the architect describes as “the world’s most indestructible living creature.” I’d like to sit in the living room, if only to imagine what it feels like to live in a house on the moon.
In Gero Von Boehm‘s documentary on Peter Lindbergh, the photographer talks about the richness, depth and beauty of melancholy and how all the wonderful, fine layers in a woman’s face disappear when she laughs. “You can see so much in faces that aren’t laughing. But if they laugh, you see someone who is laughing. It drowns everything else out. It destroys it.” Lindbergh’s serious portraits of Uma Thurman, Kate Moss, Tilda Swinton et. al. are exquisite, but who can resist this photo of Isabella Rossellini?
I love a dress with a demure front, and an unexpectedly punchy back. Such dresses leave people perplexed, intrigued, wanting as you walk away. The contradiction amuses me. Fairytale meets femme fatale. I’m crazy about the back of this Edda dress. It’s flirty and feminine and shows just enough back while still echoing the demureness of the dress’ front. Plus, all the fabric on the popo is just too divine.
My mum said nothing about the thick black eye makeup and bleach blond streaks. She said nothing about the chipped Rouge Noir nails and laddered tights. She said nothing when I shaved the underside of my head. But she did insist I never mess with my eyebrows. Barring a short phase of highly stylized brows, I listened. Now, I’m back to where I started with thick, natural brows that I pay very little attention to. Had she badgered me about all the other stuff, I may well have gone rogue with my brows, and who knows what else. A battle well chosen, Mama.
I’m not a fan of mushrooms, but I’m a fan of pleats. I imagine a millefeuille top in this beautiful watermelon pink worn with loose silk palazzo pants in a deep golden tobacco. I’d finish the outfit with a sandal in a natural shade and red toes. Oh, and a large straw hat.
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