Checks on Checks on Checks

Blazer (Mango, similar here and here), Shirt (Madewell, similar here), Trousers (Zara, similar here and here), Shoes (Nine West - old, similar here), Scarf (Zara, similar here), Necklaces (Dogeared), Ring (Blanca Monros Gomez via Of a Kind - Christmas present from The Man)

While the East Coast explores the manifold benefits of wearing 6 pairs of long johns under absolutely everything, I am shimmying around San Francisco with not-accidental naked ankles and wrists like an ASSHOLE. 

And I feel pretty great about it. I guess it's been cold here, I suppose, but I don't think I'm allowed to call 52 degrees Fahrenheit "cold" when THIS is happening elsewhere to our fellow countrymen. Also, WUT. Also, WUT. 

Anyway, back to my impudently bare ankles. 

What has this season brought us aside from a fancy new Ice Age? Myriad versions of plaid -- basically any incarnation of a grid-like tesselation of various lines, colors, and configurations, we saw this past Fall/Winter. (And pinstripes, too, but that's a whole other turdy post.) And did you know that despite the fact that our punishment for a lack of Winter on the West Coast is that we're in the middle of AN ACTUAL GOVERNMENTALLY-PROCLAIMED DROUGHT, we can all totally rest assured because if there is one thing we're not short of, it's different kinds of plaid? Did you know that? Fashion = Captain Planet.

Here are some fun vocab words to play with:

Plaid

Tartan

Checkered

Buffalo Plaid

Houndstooth (also known as Dogtooth if you're from anywhere in Europe)

Gingham

Shepherd's Check

Windowpane

Glen Plaid (also known as Prince of Wales Check. sounds fun, right?!)

And it's nothing else other than my enthusiastically misplaced elation regarding the surplus of plaids at my disposal this season, and the proclivity toward nakedness that my ankles and wrists tend to have, that have inspired this particular outfit.

I'm wearing 4 different kinds of plaid here all at once, and what prevents me from looking like I just rolled around in a pile of my clothes and sauntered out the door (although, maybe I do look that way? DO I?) is the fact that all of the plaids are partying with the same colors, with black and white being the most popular kids at the party. With some combination of the same 2 or 3 colors, you can pile on the prints like you would the mashed potatoes at Thanksgiving.

Ok, maybe 5 kinds of plaid if you count my hair.

Less is So Much More

Top (Zara, similar here and here), Blazer (Forever 21, similar here and here), Skirt (Zara - old, similar here and here), Shoes (Zara - similar here and here), Clutch (Ted Baker - old, similar here), Rings (misc. Ariella rings here)

The man who perfected minimalist, masculine-tinged vesture for the modern woman to the point of it being obscene is the very same man who, as it would stand to reason given the former, season after season seems to effortlessly craft and build upon a vision rooted in the primordial and ineffable duo of black and white.

He does this so adeptly, that we hardly realize that black and white are by and large the only colors we are seeing. In fact, we don't even miss the the other colors in the world at that point. Are there even other colors? That's not to say that the man does not utilize a broader palette in his collections—he certainly does, and he does so quite sharply. But home for his aesthetic exists in the glorious place where black and white live together as a kind of Platonic ideal; a perfect pairing of absolute light and dark wherein lies a beauty that is so elemental, that it simply can't be denied. It is a place from which boundless possibility stems. 

I'm not embarrassed to say I'm grossed out by me right now, too.  

Anyway, all I'm saying is, Alexander Wang's sartorial point of view inspires an enthusiastic urge to minimize in even the most maximal of maximalists. Black and white together are enough to make a statement when you don't need much else, but it is Wang's tailored eye and dextrous hand that makes the pairing of black and white so much more interesting and purposeful with seemingly so much less. 

His irreducible wares, like the linearly-disposed mesh pieces of his Spring/Summer 2013 collection, incite such immediate attraction that they are followed by a tidal wave of copycat and (to put it nicely) "inspired-by" pieces from brands far and wide; most notably, Zara (as pictured here). And then suddenly the market is flooded with (certainly cheaper, but recognizable) traces of his collection.

And while nothing I'm wearing here is of Mr. Wang's namesake brand (and trust me, I don't purport it to be despite my above ramblings), there is no denying that he has, whether unwillingly or not, had a hand in not only how the pieces I'm wearing look, but also in my decision making process for compiling an outfit comprised chiefly of these "inspired-by" pieces. 

Regardless of whether or not you don Wang-inspired copycat wares, or his pricey originals, what is authentic—and more importantly, what can belong to anyone—is dressing oneself with the kind of inspired sparingness that Wang so masterfully sets forth. It is in letting his crisp aesthetic guide you that you realize that less is really so much more. 

I Got My Mom Shorts On and I'm Ready to Party...

Blazer (Zara - last seen here), Camisole (Topshop, similar here), Shorts (Zara, similar here), Shoes (Zara, similar here) Necklace (Dogeared) 

The high-waisted, drop-crotched, fupa-producing silhouette of those shorts worn by Girl Scout cookie pushing moms of America or say by those middle-aged, tennis playing, waspy Hamptons types, is one best handled with care. It's tricky territory for sure—things can easily go awry—but that doesn't mean that one shouldn't endeavor to take a pair of these bad boys for a spin.

The "mom short," as I'll call it, (I realize this characterization is potentially offensive, but I really don't intend it to be, as it's merely observational, and furthermore, we're talking about some great shorts here) along with other mom favorites like bermuda shorts and hell, even culottes, were popping up all over the place this summer. Designers re-imagined these formerly dowdy silhouettes and presented them within new contexts, forcing us to rethink our previously concluded conceptions of these bottoms. And we did. And really, they can look rather chic if one is thoughtful in their undertaking (see here and here as a start).

I like the idea of wearing them with (surprise!) a blazer—especially one in the same color or print as said mom shorts or one that shares at least one color—because it reads as suit-y, a look atypical of the mom short aesthetic, and also because it lends some much-needed structure to the placid sea of fabric circling your pelvis. And of course, with a pair of pumps, one couldn't farther away from the soccer field.

I'm not saying I don't have my reservations, because I do. No matter what you look like, if cut the wrong way, or worn carelessly, these high-waisted wonders can make anyone's legs look like KFC drumsticks (not to mention, the previously glossed over eminent danger of a raging FUPA surfacing). I'm just saying, give them a try, and steer clear of the thin mints and the tennis courts when doing so. 

Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice

Blouse (Urban Outfitters - old, similar here), Trousers (Zara - OBSESSED with them because of course I am, similar here), Shoes (Boutique 9, similar here), Blazer (Bebe - this mofo is from high school, similar here), Necklace (Dogeared), Watch (Marc by Marc Jacobs - upgrade courtesy of the man!) 

BIG SURPRISE: I am wearing black and white. Followed by the even bigger surprise that I am once again stripe-ehd. But the long and short of it is, the classic combination of black and white is always chic, and (as trite as it sounds, it's true) always in style. The key is finding new ways to wear it on-trend, while still remaining true to the combo's minimalist roots. 

Striped trousers (along with striped everything elses) blew up this Spring, and of all the pairs out there—and I've probably tried at least 37 of them on—the Zara pair is by far my favorite (I know, I am full of surprises today). High-waisted, classic trouser cut, cuffs just before the break, POCKETS (can't get enough of pockets), breathable, and of course totally doable at around 80 bucks...And they love hanging out with my red patent leather pumps.

The moral of the story is that when I am in outfit doubt (or rather, when I have to catch my train in two minutes and I am standing butt naked, staring idiotically at my closet), the two solutions I know I can always count on to make me look put-together and effortlessly chic (when I am in fact neither of those things) are black and white, and stripes—sometimes together, sometimes separately. So wear black and white! Wear stripes! And never look back.

Twirl

Blouse (Forever 21, similar here), Skirt (Banana Republic - old, similar here and here), Shoes (Zara - old, similar here), Necklace (Dogeared), Bracelet (Asos - old, similar here)

There is nothing quite like twirling your skirt when you're in a twirly skirt. I don't know about you guys, but I've been twirling for as long as I can remember—probably since I came out of the womb. It is a lower brain kind of thing for me; I find myself wearing something twirlable, and I can't help but shoot my arms out to the sides, and start spinning (I've also been known to twirl in pants...and shorts...and basically everything else). That urge to spin is one reason a twirly skirt can serve as a rather effective mood lifter, especially in the middle of a mid-week slump (or slog, as it were). Not to mention, you just feel instantly more playful and swishy the second you put one on. I say, punctuate your wardrobe every now and then with something that twirls, and then Mary-Tyler-Moore the shit out of that thing, all the live long day.