Posts Tagged ‘Eurotrash’
One of the highlights of Toronto Fashion Week this season was ogling The Parsons Reject‘s accessories every day, and trying to figure out ways to distract her so as to five finger discount that Givenchy. But I guess a picture’s worth a thousand dollars, in this case. Cheetah spots and alligator skin. I see a red sole peeking out from under her shoes, too. Could they be Louboutin? And of course her super luxe accessories juxtapose her ripped boyfriend jeans, à la Eurotrash. Thanks, Cassandra, for keeping the street style really unattainable this World MasterCard Fashion Week.
Who can ever get enough of ADR? Here she is yesterday in Paris just doing her thing. Incidentally, she must’ve got the Tehran Times memo about covering up and swathing in patterned scarves. I love her kaleidoscopic fusion of florals and geometrics, colours and black and white.
Sass & Bide’s Heidi Middleton at home.
A Eurotrash moment from a summertime somewhere. Maybe from my past, maybe in my future. Love runners as primary mode of transportation whilst ensconced in a long black parachute skirt and a biker vest. My interest is piqued by the statue just right of our leading lady; two ladies, both swathed, side-by-side yet centuries apart.
Photograph by Alexander Liang
I’m the featured blogger on The Luxe Life Blogger Roll this week talking all about my 90s inspired Toronto Fashion Week look. Check out the article I wrote and the outfit I styled here: The Luxe Life.
A quick post from a city stroll at Osgoode Hall in Toronto. Despite what you all think, I actually don’t go around dressed like Anna dello Russo – in fact, I prefer a sporty/preppy look for everyday life. There is something discretely European-appropriation-of-American-style to chucks, Wayfarers, a knit sweater, ripped jeans and a Louis Vuitton Neverfull. Incidentally, the jeans and sweaters are part of my latest Fall loot from Zara. Thanks, Alexander Liang, for snapping this pic!
If beauty is in the eye of the beholder, then clearly I have free rein to equate Giannini’s Spring ’14 collection to a fluffy, pink flamingo. Sure, the birds are missing some sequins and swag, but all in all the association is uncanny. It’s one of those moments when an ink blot of the pink flamingo would prompt the fashion victim to blurt out, “Why doc, that’s easy. Gucci Spring 2014. What do I win, what do I win??!!”
No victims here, though, as Giannini continues to explore the boudoir where she left off in Spring 2012 (perhaps a pregnancy suffices to explain the temporary departure from sexiness in between yesterday and tomorrow; I said flamingo, not stork). These roaring 20s inspired silhouettes have me picturing Kay Francis swathed in flouncy sleeves and pearls, trying to light a cigarette with one of those oversized lighters that dubbed as a paperweight held in both hands. So, flamingos, Kay Francis and Gucci. Someone diagnose me, please. I have a severe case of FABULOUS.
Ever since this man put Anna dello Russo in his shorter than short regal lilac dress and did the same to Chiara Ferragni, multiple times, once in a long white number that had me suspecting a nuptial with ex-Riccardo, in the most fashionable expression of a wedding day on the streets of Florence – Fausto Puglisi had me at mid-thigh.
He went through a rebellious punk rock phase for Fall 2013, but back for Spring he took the best parts of his leather bondage and mixed it with pure sprezzatura. Pink, red and sky blue palm trees in the sun is all I want to wear after perusing this collection last night, over and over and over again. I swear I know it by heart. Perhaps the Alexander Wang of Italy, Puglisi has been chosen to revamp the French fashion house, Emanuel Ungaro (pace, Lindsay Lohan). His ideas are fresh, not regurgitations of runways past and yet they don’t veer too far away from identification, and thus Puglisi has the sweet ability to set the trend. For now, let us just pray that some retailer in Toronto with enough foresight decides to carry Fausto Puglisi so that we can carry Fausto Puglisi. Or maybe just me, which I’m totally OK with. Leather belt bra, anyone?
This photograph plus a flashback during yoga this morning whilst trying to find my drishti, transported me to a moment in time that I hold dearly. I’m 18 years old, it’s 2003 and my two best friends and I have rented a villetta in Ravello – arguably the most enchanting place on earth. It’s July. We didn’t go to the beach that day because we had to do our laundry, something we had been avoiding for the past two weeks, accumulating a mountain of soiled Abercrombie t-shirts and short shorts on our kitchen table.
Our villa has an oversized terrace that looks out onto a valley; we’re really high up. It seems as if in paradise. Stretching the entire length of the terracotta tiles, a blue water swimming pool nestled on one end, a clothesline on the other, we hang our entire summer wardrobe to dry with the Mediterranean sun. As we wait, we take to three lounge chairs by the pool. I look up at the sky. Earbuds in place and press play. So begins the Real Ibiza V compilation I purchased earlier on a drunken night in Lipari after sucking back a B52 through a straw – while it was on fire. Apparently, that’s how they do it in Italy; turned out to be heaven-sent. The music, the sunshine and my precocious youth. I think I became a better version of myself that afternoon, in the hour and a half it took for our laundry to dry.
Three things I need from this collection: the sandals aka “Jesus Birkenstocks”, the silk screened sweatshirts of full moons and the custom made leather that is dyed to look like bleached denim – in either dress or blazer counterpart. I’d be happier with both. Bravo, Mr. Lee, this collection is super wearable and oh-so Scandinavian chic.