Clementine, tangerine, pomelo, lemon, lime, satsuma, and mandarin orange are definitely contenders on my go-to color palette list for spring and summer.
Vogue Italia February 2011: Candice Swanepoel by Steven Meisel
I approached the various strands of rope gingerly, and while I spent much of the first day staring hypnotically, in what can only be referred to as a highly suggestive state of uber-confusion, I finally put the rope overlay under enemy control. I figured it would be a pragmatic undertaking, you know, some sort of therapeutic magic potion to lousy days. But all that insatiable weaving, knotting, tying, looping, and wrapping was seriously blowing my mind. After three weeks of (literally) getting caught up and tousled in something that ultimately looked like nothing, I was beginning to have my doubts. But in the end, the DIY project from hell was a veritable triumph as I kicked its sweet little nautical ass into the alpha dog of my closet. Awesome side note: I was stoked to be contacted by the ever-lovely Mimi for Fashion Idol of the Week , so if you haven’t already seen it, please check out my interview … it’s INCREDIBLE! And special thanks go out to Alex of aliens...
Adept to artistic recreation, I wrenched this blue button-down from the retirement section of my closet… evidently, I’ve been on some sort of 007 sewing safari. Sated with a neo-trashy romanticism, its charming DIY imperfection materialized this impromptu photo excursion, even though I should have been working. But from the sun-drenched corners of a museum shop, I rubbed out the shadows of a recent stress purgatory, as the city voice seemed a tangible reawakening. Shirt, DIY (Meadham Kirchhoff inspiration). Satin tap pants, Victoria’s Secret. Bangles, vintage. Heels, N.Y.L.A.
Masquerading like some sort of villain... The Lollipop Girl. Organizing a hoard of Louis Vuitton bags reminiscent of a passenger boarding the Titanic, I subsequently stiletto-stomped my way through the airport… my least favorite locale. The multitudes of people spatter together a freakish rendition of business, pleasure, and necessity. A communal jungle of paperbacks, multicolored Blackberrys, laptops, iPods, and diverse banter illuminate hastened boarding calls as a modicum of boredom weaves the metaphorical features of departure gates, all passengers all rows… terminal . Without defense to unwarranted luggage cruelty, enthusiasm flatlines. I do it for love... but ah, the joys of travel. From the stomach of flight, the world below is silent while conversation nebulizes and then bounces from either side of the oatmeal colored aircraft like a ping-pong ball caught in tilt. At 36,000 feet, anything’s possible… though slightly altitude-jaded, I escape into a book, catnap, amp the iPod, a...
Comments
Zepequeña.
xx
Andy
XX
Vi from Cali