csfoc

I know that C.Sevs for Opening Ceremony has already been covered by...everybody...but I'm seriously dying over the entire collection. In the winter, I love putting together intricate outfits with lots of layers and details and weird shoes, but in the summer, I get lazy. I just want simple breezy seperates or loose dresses that look good with a tan and don't take too much effort to thow on in the morning. Chloe totally read my mind. I've been stalking the pictures from the launch party basically all day; I love any big gathering of amazing people, but a big gathering of amazing fashion people? I am SO on board.

See what I mean?
I see you, heart-lensed sunglasses.

The leopard in the middle will be mine.
shoes.

I love all of this. It makes me so happy when celebrities actually design beautiful clothes! Jessica Simpson, take note.

scarlet woman

Somehow, red has inadvertently become my favorite summer color...this is quite mysterious to me. I have never liked red before, and now suddenly it's filling up my Idyll images folder and creeping its way into my closet!

Poppies are my summer flower.

I've also been listening to Karen Elson's album on constant repeat all day...if music had a color, The Ghost Who Walks would be the shade of a poppy field.

listen to the rain drops outside of my window

This is my new rain song:

Yukon Blonde was one of the opening bands when I saw Good Old War on Friday night - they are incredible! I completely fell in love; their harmonies were perfect, and in addition to sounding great they were also very, very stylish. I finally got up the courage to chat with the lead singer after the show, and he let me take a picture of his shoes! (post coming soon)

dead weather

Even though there's less than a week until school gets out, the weather has been acting a lot more like January than June as of late. I really want to be wearing breezy cutoffs and flowy satin tops and strappy little sandals, but day after day I've found myself in boots and jackets and giant scarves...I'm tired of winter dressing! These Sartorialist ladies have been helping me shake up my normal rainy-day uniform though:


I especially love the second girl, Claude...she's got the exact sort of lazy-chic, this-weather-sucks-but-I-still-look-awesome vibe that I want to channel to get through the dark ages of early Seattle summer.

the kindness of strangers.

We've just finished reading A Streetcar Named Desire in my English class...I loved it, but that's no surprise - I absolutely adore Tennessee Williams. We're now in the midst of watching the 1951 film version, which I'd never seen until this week. It's incredible. Between marveling at the beautiful cinematography and the amazing performances, I've been developing a gigantic crush on Vivian Leigh's Blanche DuBois wardrobe. It's a little Charles Anastase meets Lover meets Peter Jensen...and I want it all. Everything she wears is sheer and diaphanous and ultra-feminine - Lucinda Ballard, the costume designer, must have had a fabulous time dreaming up these ensembles. Blanche's clothes exude romance, grace, charm, and beauty without reverting to the stereotypical Gone-With-The-Wind-esque "Southern Belle" silhouette. I think my favorite piece is her sheer, ruffled bed jacket, or her tattered "moonlight swim" ballgown. I only wish I could see these clothes in color!






Reading this play also gave me an idea for a little boutique clothing store - it would be called Belle Reve, and draw inspiration from the life Blanche and Stella lead before their family died and their money was lost. The decor would be dreamy and soft - all roses and creams and pale golds, with lots of chiffon and silk draping and tall lacquered mirrors. The clothes would all be modern pieces for a genteel, intellectual, upper-class Southern belle - lots of delicate dresses, floaty separates, and a really well-edited collection of shoes. On a peeling white sideboard, there would be an old typewriter missing a couple of keys with a half-finished fairy tale poking out the top. Quotes - mostly from Blanche - would be tastefully calligraphied on the walls. There would be a sitting area comprised of faded dusky pink velveteen settees and creaky wicker chairs where shoppers could drink sweet tea and powder their noses. It would smell like warm flowers.
Any millionaires out there care to subsidize my fantasies?

for your consideration:

old gold

I love this blog so dearly...I can't believe I haven't posted in almost two weeks! I finally have the time to blog, and I thought I would share a few old things that have been making me feel like new again.

First, my latest thrift find: the perfect pair of 90's high-waisted denim shorts. I went in looking for a Virgin Suicide-y white dress that I could wear while laying around in grassy meadows and reading Whitman. Instead, I trolled through racks and racks of perfect grungey floral shift dresses and 80's button-up house dresses with lace Peter Pan collars. This would have been amazing if I 1. had no boobs a la Kate Moss and 2. had enough time to alter them. Alas, I have too much of one thing and not enough of the other, so I emerged with these instead.
My light-wash jean shorts addiction is becoming slightly problematic.

Next, I rediscovered my old silver baby brush and almost immediately realized its potential for taming/resuscitating my bangs during the day...

I also found a book that is not really a book...


...but a jewelry box!

I've recently taken to wearing my great-grandpa's old monogrammed pocketwatch as a necklace (Flava Flav style) and my grandma's big gold crown pin (which I conveniently forgot to photograph up close).


Besides the fact that vintage shopping is much better for the environment than buying brand-new, there's an element of intrigue that draws me into the depths of Value Village and the Salvation Army. Old objects have a quality about them that new things lack - there's always a little mystery there, a sense that the pin or ring or pair of pants you're holding has a story to tell you. I love the concept of wearable history - and the idea that with each step you take, you're adding a chapter to a story of your own.

only if you're looking will it find you.

What a hectic few weeks it has been! I can practically feel the school year hurtling towards the finish line. Unfortunately, all my new responsibilities are starting to take priority over blogging. Until I get back on track, a picture post will have to suffice. I've been lacking in inspiration anyways...






Photos from Lula Scrapbook, Garance Dore, and other places.

monday tennyson.

On either side the river lie

Long fields of barley and of rye,

That clothe the wold and meet the sky;

And thro' the field the road runs by

To many-tower'd Camelot;

And up and down the people go,

Gazing where the lilies blow

Round an island there below,

The island of Shalott.

There she weaves by night and day

A magic web with colours gay.

She has heard a whisper say,

A curse is on her if she stay

To look down to Camelot.

She knows not what the curse may be,

And so she weaveth steadily,

And little other care hath she,

The Lady of Shalott.

She left the web, she left the loom,

She made three paces through the room,

She saw the water-lily bloom,

She saw the helmet and the plume,

She look'd down to Camelot.

Out flew the web and floated wide;

The mirror crack'd from side to side;

"The curse is come upon me," cried

The Lady of Shalott.

Heard a carol, mournful, holy,

Chanted loudly, chanted lowly,

Till her blood was frozen slowly,

And her eyes were darkened wholly,

Turn'd to tower'd Camelot.

For ere she reach'd upon the tide

The first house by the water-side,

Singing in her song she died,

The Lady of Shalott.

Anne Valerie Hash/The Row/Chloe.

i fake it so real.

During our school spirit week, most of the students (with only a few notable exceptions) tend to interpret Decade Day either one of two ways: neon, high ponytails and legwarmers, or halfhearted tie-dye Haneses and American Apparel headbands pushed a few inches farther down the forehead then normal. I took this as a sign: our community needed something more interesting then pale imitations of bygone eras. It needed something different. Something apart from the shiny, pink-cheeked cuteness of wearing purple leggings instead of black and labeling it "eighties". It needed grunge.

Okay, hear me out:

Flannel? Check. Tiny hair bow? Check. Ripped tights and red lipstick? Check. Infantile bangs, weird sunglasses, and strangely inappropriate snap-up dress that threatens to come undone at any second? Check. Surly-but-sensitive musician boyfriend? Living in Seattle? Check and check.

The only thing left to do when I got home was to put on my favorite Hole record and pretend it was 1993...