When the Juices Aren't Flowing

Coat (Zara, similar here), Shirt (Zara, similar here) Jeans (J.Crew - old, similar here), Heels (Nine West, here's my dream pair), Ring (Blanca Monros Gomez via Of a Kind), Necklaces (Dogeared) 

Despite the fact that I fancy myself otherwise, I think that in real life (in this case, real life means my endeavors to dress myself) I am actually not a creative person. Like, at all.

Please! Quiet your objections! I know, it's difficult to believe because according to my hair, I should possess Ms. Frizzle-status levels of innovative ability, and should also be loosely related to Lionel Richie's Jheri Curl circa any moment in the 1980s. 

But alas, each morning as I stand butt-naked before my closet, bewildered and frustrated by the prospect of having to clothe myself in a combination of things that thoroughly fools people into thinking that I am stylish and capable, my inability to conjure anything close to a formative idea, along with my subsequent knee-jerk reaction of reaching for the same blazer and the even more same pair jeans, reminds me that I am in fact completely devoid of imaginative faculties when it comes to what I wear. 

Which is why I'm over the moon for these white pumps. They've single-handedly revolutionized (overstating maybe?) my outfit-compiling process, in that they seem to make everything I wear not lame and boring by exacting a certain sharpness that elevates, say, an otherwise dull grey sweater to something that maybe a stylish someone would don.

They are a recent purchase, which means my relationship with them will go something like this: I will wear them over and over again on such annoyingly consecutive schedule as to induce eye-rolling from everyone that knows me, until my face falls off and I am so utterly sick of them that I hurl them at the floor and in disgust swear them off completely, until 6 months later when I rediscover them in a fit of closet cleaning and I fall deeply in love with them all over again. 

Except that won't happen with these because they're better than that.

Blazer Face

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. 

Remember? It's Winter. Wear a Cape.

Cape (Zara - majorly on sale this past Winter, similar here and here), Sweater (Zara, similar here), Trousers (Sessun - old, similar here), Heels (Zara, similar here), Necklaces (Dogeared) Ring (Blanca Monros Gomez via Of a Kind)

In case you haven't noticed, it is currently Summer here in San Francisco. More Summer than it is in the Summertime. And although this beautiful weather is a salient reminder that we are in the middle of a very real drought and probably steadily on our way to some sort of apocalypse (whichever one suits you), we should throw our heads back and laugh a laugh of not caring about things that are too scary and important to think about and take a 50 minute shower because we can rely on the life sustaining powers of our abundance of plaid. 

And so maybe it's just for funsies that I'm wearing this plaid cape, but maybe it's also to remind me that even though plaid as a sartorial staple of the colder weather months is a tenant that has been around since Jamie from Outlander times, it is an ever-repleneshing resource that, at the hands of very adept designers, presents itself anew season after season, and we never seem to tire of it. Plaid will be around when there's nothing left but the cockroaches, so eat up.

The sweater is not a real sweater like people in New York would wear because it's completely permeable and basically see-through. The trousers bring a nice monochrome mleh-mleh to the outfit while still reminding you that I'm a BOSS (jk I'm not a boss of anything other than the jar of peanut butter in my pantry). And the shoes are presenting themselves to you in that distinct gunmetal grey probably thanks to somebody who's named Alexander Wang and his Fall/Winter 2013 collection last year. Trickle Down Dance, guys! I'm telling you.

Also, when was the last time you wore an actual cape(coat)?

Stripes of the Pin Variety

Coat (Zara - majorly on sale over the holidays, similar here), Trousers (Zara, similar here), Shirt (H&M Men's, similar here), Brogues (Rag & Bone - majorly on sale thanks to Barney's Warehouse, similar here), Necklaces (Dogeared), Ring (Blanca Monros Gomez via Of a Kind - Christmas present from The Man) 

It is safe to say that the two patterns that dominated the Autumn/Winter Sartorial Season last year were plaid (in various forms) and pinstripes. This is mostly thanks to one lady: Stella McCartney. With lines that consistently demonstrate a tendency toward and a mastery of masculine silhouettes and motifs as worn by a woman (and it should be noted that the Stella McCartney woman is one of insurmountable cool and imaginative simplicity), Stella McCartney possesses the kind of creative hands that make things that immediately flood us with an overwhelming sense of desire. And (here's the real trick, and what more often than not sets apart a good designer from a master of the art form) that desire is lasting.

Her Autumn/Winter 2013 collection from last year is basically runway porn. You can't see it and not get turned on. Of course what inevitably happened is what always happens with trend-setting collections. Her line initiated The Trickle Down Dance, and soon us plebs were awash in a sea of midnight pinstripes and fuzzy plaid. No matter how many times I saw some version (or inversion in some cases) of her pinstripe coat, or an angora plaid sweater, the original desire hatched by her archetypal designs remained steadfast, and in some cases all the more stronger.

Which is the story of how I came to look like I do here. (It is a tale of fascinating proportions and epic intrigue, I know.) And thusly, I am compelled to once again do what I always find myself doing, and that is to throw my hands up, toss my head back, and spin like some sort of coked-out gypsy while I praise the Gods that are Zara.

Oh and if you feel like making your mind explode and then subsequently shoving a month's rent into your computer screen, you can behold (and then purchase) the original inspiration for this particular pinstripe coat here. WOMP.

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.