Archive for May 2010
Despite being a warm, Saturday night in May, last night hardly any of my friends left their couches – so it ended up being a college street night. For those who know me, you know that I equate a college street night precisely with a night spent on my couch. It just reminds me of high school, when we used to think that going to Bar Italia on a Saturday night in hopes of meeting boys on vacation from Italy was the coolest thing ever. Luckily, last night I was in good company and luckily, we decided that finishing off a bottle of wine would help to alleviate the pain of bad high school memories.
Anyway, having a low-key night gave me the chance to take some pics of a few things that I heart right now: my sister’s high-waisted linen pants from Anthropology; my electric blue Balenciaga; the minnetonka moccasins I waited 4 weeks for to arrive from Pennsylvania; my Sephora brand lipstick in shade no. 837 and a sweet bite of tartufo.
I begin this post with a sweet apology to all of my three readers for working at a slower pace these past few weeks and even though there really is no excuse good enough to justify such an absence, I blame it all on St. Clair Pharmacy, that which consumes my thoughts, dreams, and every waking hour. How romantic!
However, just because eurotrash hasn’t been writing about being eurotrash, she certainly has not stopped – her new visa balance of $1,500 can vouch for that! I can explain, really… You see, remember a few weeks ago I posted about Salem Moussallam’s new consignment/dress rental boutique? Remember how I really wanted to buy a Chanel bag? Well, I went back with a few friends (I’ve actually been chaperoning groups of them every few days, like a jaded tour guide, standing in the middle of the Colosseum with one of those fancy wands). It just so happens that I managed to snag an electric blue Balenciaga giant city bag AND a Chanel patent leather large flap bag for the aforementioned amount. I felt like a bookie that night at Jack’s, calling Salem back and forth, guzzling back heinekens while waiting for his client on the other end to accept my final offer like in Deal or No Deal. This was no game show; she accepted.
A few days later I accompanied another group of friends to the magical wonderland of discounted bags. While one clenched onto a red Balenciaga and the other decided between two Gucci bags, I sauntered into the dressing room where I proceeded to try on many, many dresses for this upcoming event – hey, as far as it seemed to me no one was in a hurry to leave. So, an hour later, I walked out with a freshly styled outfit and my friends, two new bags. Salem lent me one of his own pieces, a beautiful structured wool dress that’s sooo 60s mod with a little scandalous neckline and a chunky black necklace that looks like it came from Madonna’s Like A Prayer wardrobe closet.
Here are some pics of me at the 10th anniversary party for FIRST CAPITAL REALTY at the Koolhaus last night. Notice the bag; it’s the only thing I’m NOT giving back to Salem tomorrow.
The chosen outfit for tonight’s LAB Consignment launch party: Seven For All Mankind jeggings, Aldo leopard striped/navy leather heels, Community (omg, softest fabric) white v-neck tee, Hogan belt and Club Monaco emerald green cropped blazer – and my giant palm tree green city Balenciaga to top it off.
I arrived at the Silver Falls vintage store an hour late, fashionably of course and gave my name at the door. Little did I know that inside, a celebrity house party awaited me. Amidst the coolest clothing I’ve ever seen since I perused my mom’s closet last week, flash photography, interviews and TV cameras worked hard to capture all the famous people and little old me. As soon as I saw Sarah Taylor it was clear: I was at the wrong party.
So, when in doubt and without friends (because my editor who originally invited me to the event got stuck at the Cannes film festival), eurotrash heads straight for the bar. The bartender was serving only one drink: cointreau, lime and magic, which may become my new best friend – it certainly was tonight!
The room at the back of the store reserved for the LAB party was tiny! People gathered around the dinning room table to enjoy the fresh delivery of sliders as I slipped out the back door only to find an even smaller patio area, exactly the kind you would find in your friend of a friend’s backyard. Candles, heated conversations and introductions, I escaped into the twitter world on my BB. The funny thing is, I didn’t want to make friends with any of these I-just-flew-in-from-paris-live-at-Chekovsky’s-and-look-like-a-cross-between-sam-ronson-and-terry-richardson people gathered in the yard.
So, back inside I went, and oh finally, someone complimented me on my bag! But one more ring around the dinning room table and I was, pleasantly, donezo. Eager to complete my assignment and get the hell outta there, I checked out the clothes, took a mental note of what people were wearing and snapped a few pictures of my favourite things:
I’ll definitely go back and snag some of the beautiful pieces I saw like this vest, a black top hat and a vintage Trussardi leather clutch – but I’ll wait until things are a little less high profile.Tweet
Ever wake up in the morning and NOT feel like trying to squeeze your i-shouldn’t-have-ate-that-extra-cookie ass into a pair of jeans? Welcome to my daily routine. Not only do I, sometimes, often, always, shun my denim drawer in favour of something more comfortable, since the legging came back in style I don’t have to feel so out of place and so NAUTE couture! For those who know me, I’ve been wearing leggings since 2006 – well before their resurgence a few years later in ’08 and well before ROOTS wasn’t the only store you could buy them at.
Boy, do I love my leggings. They are like bare legs with avengence. And don’t you dare tell me that only skinny girls look good in ‘em; I’ve seen many a size > 0′s looking mighty fierce in shiny black leggings. Ah, I remember one of my first pairs of shiny black leggings from NOLITA; complete with zipper detailing and elastic bands that hooked under the soles of my feet. Too bad i accidentally ripped them; too bad i chucked them before Balmain made torn leggings fashionable. If there’s anything to learn it’s this: never throw out ripped clothes and, more importantly, trust your inner style oracle.
Here are some legging looks I love from a new brand LnA. I would choose any of these looks every morning.
LnA i dunno what they are but they are nice.Tweet
Adding to the skull roster, eurotrash splurged on these Betsey Johnson skull earrings yesterday – if you call $38 splurging! Ah, Giuseppe Zanotti, why couldn’t you be nice like Betsey and make your flip flops affordable!
And here’s a bag I also saw at the BJ boutique in Yorkville, but it was $185, but still also very sweetly macabre.
Last but not least, my wifey picked this tank top out for me. She’s a joker and has impeccable taste! Too bad it was $85 and would’ve gotten a disapproving look from my mother.
Eurotrash is super excited for designer Salem Moussallam’s latest endeavour! My Favourite Dresses, the new consignment/rental concept store launched just few weeks ago, is a place where fashionistas can buy, sell and rent high-end designer goods. I dropped by this afternoon to do an interview and to take a quick look around for a write-up I’m doing for my column, Style Map, which you can conveniently find at thestylenotebook.com.
But as all of you know I hate to do things half-assed, so I decided to participate whole-heartedly for the sake of honest and ahem, great, journalism. I conjured up the courage to pack up my gold leather gucci belt and as I write this, it sits on the waist of a mannequin at 643 Yonge St. Call me old fashioned, but eurotrash assigns an extra dollop of sentimental value to all her big purchases. I remember picking out my Jackie bag in Rome last summer; it was like deciding who should be the father of my children! Impatient salespeople hate me because although I can be impulsive, and one certainly needs to be when dropping over 1000 on a single piece, when I buy, I buy for life.
Things have changed I guess. Perhaps it’s the fact that I bought my Balenciaga on a consignment deal of sorts and that I have my eye on a Chanel clutch with the same parameters – but buying and selling for less just seems to be so much more, how do you say, smart? For the men who read this blog, albeit clandestinely, this consignment thing is kinda like buying a new car. Once you drive it off the lot, it still looks pretty new and yet it’s value has already depreciated by almost 20%! It’s the same story with bags. OK, so you don’t get to swing open the gilded doors of some swank boutique, holding your receipt and ridiculously sized shopping bag in hand, innocent-bystanders-falling-at-your-feet kind of glory – but you do get the bargain high, which is extremely underrated I must say.
I go back tomorrow, under the guise of taking pictures, but the real question is: will eurotrash walk out with a new Chanel?
[vsw id="8Xo8At6XEqE" source="youtube" width="425" height="344" autoplay="no"]
Eurotrash will fully blame the new song she’s quickly becoming absolutely enamoured with since Saturday, Deadmau5 featuring Kaskade – I Remember, for the recent memories of summertime that keep playing in her mind. Usually a fashion blog of sorts, sometimes eurotrash uses this space to indulge in the little tangents she feels are worthy enough to write about. Well, this is one of those posts.
Last summer, eurotrash spent 9 weeks in Italy, the last two of which she spent with her mum’s family in the mountains an hour or so south of Rome. There’s one day in particular that she often regards as a day in which lots of things became definitive for her. On this particular day, her great-aunt shook her out of bed at 5am (little did dearest zia know, she had only gotten home a few hours prior to the wake-up call) to catch a bus down in the piazza leaving for the distant beach town, Gaeta. For some reason, my family in Italy thinks I’m obsessed with the beach and claim they plan such day trips solely to please me. Personally, I would’ve rather spent the rest of the morning in bed. Not to mention I had spent the past 7 weeks in a beach town on the amalfi coast! By this time around it was already the middle of September and the crisp morning air suggested everything but sun and sand. However, so as not to displease my hosts, I somehow managed to get my sorry ass onto that bus, short of puking a few times along the way.
I will probably never regret my unwavering valour that morning because what awaited me was one of the most surreal days of my life, or at least, of that summer. The beach was particularly beautiful in the 7am sunlight. Of course in the preceding 2 months I spent in amalfi, god knows, I never saw the beach before noon! Needless to say, I had a full morning ahead of me to enjoy the sunshine, the fresh breeze and a concatenation of espressos. My aunt and cousin let me be, only sporadicly waking me to take a walk or help them decide which bracelet they should buy from the tenacious marocchini, eager to sellout their products before the season’s encroaching end.
We lunched on the beach as the autumn winds added a pinch of sand to every bite, but I didn’t mind because I was in a state of intense existential pondering – what is sand, anyway? The part I remember most, and what I think of when I listen to this song, occurred towards the day’s end. I mean, the whole day I refused to go in the water, which is so unlike me, but I dreaded the promise of goosebumps in that cool autumn air. In the late afternoon though, I found myself walking along the beach with my iPod, listening to all of my favourite songs from the summer and decided that I needed, absolutely had to, go swimming. I ran back to our umbrella and my aunt called after me as I plunged into the water, something about me being una scema, or una pazza, but I didn’t care. It was 5pm and I had the whole ocean to myself.
The water was surprisingly warm, the waves were calm but constant, and I swam as far as I could. Floating along I realized that having a certain attitude about life could make the smallest, most insignificant of things, quite grand. I sort of lost that perspective along the way, getting caught up in the he said she said, my visa bills, and general ennui. That last swim was my Palomar moment. In Calvino’s book he writes a few short stories entitled “Palomar on the beach”, in which Palomar, the main philosophical character, spends his time pondering the waves in the ocean, a topless sunbather, and a ray of sun. I would share some of my favourite passages here, but for fear of being deemed an even bigger nerd than this reference indicates, I will keep them private. For those interested, it’s worth reading the stories yourselves to discover the nuances of Calvino’s thought when it comes to the simplest of things.
Perhaps that’s what being eurotrash is all about: taking the the time to look at things anew and deciding whether a wave ends at the shore or if, in reality, it starts at the shore and departs backwards towards the deep blue sea.
A propos de my last post, eurotrash has taken her violet obsession to a whole other level. Who ever thought the cover of a trashy novel would provide the impetus for her entire spring/summer aesthetic? Last year it was all about going blonde, this time around it’s all about going pastel. And so, yesterday she payed her stylist a visit, had some cheese, crackers and olives, sipped a glass of wine as he worked his magic and waited, patiently. Four hours later, her hair was a violet and platinum bouquet and she absolutely loved it.
Today eurotrash is preparing a write-up for The Style Notebook (yes, people actually pay me to write about fashion!) . She’ll be interviewing Erin, part-owner of Robber, and doing a review on the store. In the meantime, eurotrash has checked out some of the brands they carry and again, has fallen in love. It’s not that she’s easily pleased, there’s just so much pretty in this world! This week’s object of my affection is DACE, a clothing line from Vancouver that looks like it’s from Paris. Here are some pictures from the Spring 2010 collection:
… tell me you’re not in love!Tweet