Blazer (Zara, similar here and here), Blouse (J.Crew - old, similar here), Shorts (Zara - last seen here, similar here), Tights (Hue), Shoes (Zara, similar here), Necklaces (Dogeared), Ring (Blanca Monros Gomez via Of a Kind), Watch (Marc by Marc Jacobs)
Every someone worth their weight in Nutella knows that blazers are the golden child(ren?) of Fashion. They've been around forever, they look good on everyone (even and especially babies), they can transform a stupid outfit into something that makes you look like you know what you're doing and that you take showers (see photos above), they are timelessly chic, designers love them, blah blah blah.
I've been aggressively impressing upon my sister lately the importance of long blazers because obviously these are the kinds of really critical issues at hand, and for all intents and purposes she's been partially bludgeoned into submission, while still maintaining my utter ridiculousness as a human.
Then the other day I read Leandra Medine's (of Man Repeller) mini-dissertation extolling her reasons for devotion to the jacket-length double breasted blazer (#hardhitting), and upon completion of the aforementioned, I injected my clenched fist into the headspace above my fro while biting my lower lip, furrowing my brow, and nodding my head zealously as to affirm my solidarity with her word, and the validation of my rejected wisdom that no one ever asked for. Or, I performed the post-Facebook-era equivalent of that, and copied-and-pasted that url before the last period of Leandra's final sentence graced my eyeballs and slapped that mother on my sister's Facebook wall (sorry, Timeline).
"JACKET-TO-BODY RATIO," PEOPLE. Nailed it.
I've been aggressively impressing upon my sister lately the importance of long blazers because obviously these are the kinds of really critical issues at hand, and for all intents and purposes she's been partially bludgeoned into submission, while still maintaining my utter ridiculousness as a human.
Then the other day I read Leandra Medine's (of Man Repeller) mini-dissertation extolling her reasons for devotion to the jacket-length double breasted blazer (#hardhitting), and upon completion of the aforementioned, I injected my clenched fist into the headspace above my fro while biting my lower lip, furrowing my brow, and nodding my head zealously as to affirm my solidarity with her word, and the validation of my rejected wisdom that no one ever asked for. Or, I performed the post-Facebook-era equivalent of that, and copied-and-pasted that url before the last period of Leandra's final sentence graced my eyeballs and slapped that mother on my sister's Facebook wall (sorry, Timeline).
"JACKET-TO-BODY RATIO," PEOPLE. Nailed it.
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