Saturday, September 19, 2009

Smitten Saturday

Glove Love The Southern California sun is indicative that the last thing I really need to invest in is a pair of gloves; but I’m not one to listen to reason, and I quite like to be prepared, thus I’m following my heart, or rather, my present craving, and splurging on a little doodad to keep my dainty digits warm. BDG’s Jersey Ruched Long Glove literally makes my heart skip a beat. Sure, some may think that gloves that reach the elbow are completely impractical for everyday use; but I say if you’re going to accessorize your fingers, why not go all out with a pair that will leave a lasting impression and make you feel like a modern-day Holly Golightly? On the other hand, I don’t think any girl in their right mind could resist the contempo cut-outs displayed loud and proud on the very vintage Bow Driver Leather Glove, which seemingly have the ability to bring the femme fatale daredevil lurking deep inside your soul to the surface. And of course there’s always something to be said for a pair that provides function in addition to fashion, like the cognac-colored Thomas Pink Stitched Brown Leather Gloves which pack the power to make you feel like an equestrian regardless of whether or not you’ve so much as stepped foot into a barnyard before. Then again, you all know me for my adoration of cocktail rings, and gloves aren’t necessarily accommodating to such blingin’ baubles, so the Thick Knit Fingerless Gloves from Bop Basics may just prove to be the most suitable selection for my, at present time, nonexistent mitt collection. Oui, I suppose there’s no point in denying it kittens, my mind is simply awhirl with glove love!

Flea Bag February 3, 2009. The New York Times Fashion & Style Section. Mike Albo is the troublemaker who introduced me to a place where dreams come true in the article Come Shop in Their Backyard. A location where fashionistas, thrifters, foodies, musicians, hipsters, and an assortment of people from all walks of life converge with one thing in mind: finding unique, one-of-a-kind curios and novelties in the same fashion that Rachel Zoe spots sublime style. You may think Brooklyn Flea is nothing new; a typical vendor-laden setup with traditional wares for sale – you’d be wrong. No kittens, I’ve not been there myself – only in my slumber have I experienced the organized scavenger hunts, shimmied my hips to the sound of a D.J. spinning, and sipped hot chocolate while surveying the offerings of talented independent artists; but I’ve visited the sprawling weekend market vicariously through the words and photographs of others countless times, and have come to the realization that this shabby chic place of wonderment is quite similar to Disneyland in the sense that it is worthy of being called “the happiest place on earth.” Something I just learned about myself…I am such a flea bag. Are you?

Hat Attack Simple storage solutions are simply not crafted with the saucy girl in mind. Who wants to see the cherished love letters penned by a troupe of paramours, or the beloved curios and novelties racked up over the years stuffed into a crushed shoebox, or piece of plastic? Certainly not I. My knickknacks have an affinity for the finer things; bits that are vintage, irresistible, and just as decorous as they are purposeful. I have searched high and low for a specimen that embodies each and every one of these traits, and have finally come to the conclusion that the piece de resistance of posh preservation solutions is…hat boxes! It’s true; how can one possibly resist the perfection that is a hat box? I have already decided upon three très important things: My very Blair Waldorf hair accessories will reside in this black and white beauty; love letters of all shapes and sizes will call this pink rosebud embellished box home; and my glittering sparklers will soon be vacating their bland bungalow for this swank Tiffany Blue penthouse. Now…who said hatboxes were just for headwear?

Bibbed! I’ve always been miffed by the sight of anyone over the age of four wearing a bib. It seems like such a déclassé way to be seen in public. But now kittens, I have become one of the individuals embracing the very same style and choice of accessories that once irked me to unspeakable proportions. No, I’m not saying that you’ll see me traipsing around town with a Red Lobster bib tied about my throat, for that is not the type of neck accoutrement that tickles my fancy. You will, however spot me sashaying down the street with glittering rhinestones fastened around my neck because, mes chéris, I have officially been bibbed. I shall steal the spotlight at grandiose cocktail parties by donning the Jen Bib Necklace, a baubly beauty by Lee Angel Jewelry. I intend to be the preemptive lady in red while adorned with Free People’s Red Crystal Bib Necklace, a virtual throwback to the trinkets fixed upon the collar of regal royals. With Gemma Redux’s trendily tangled chains and stone pendants adorning the Melinda Necklace I plan on channeling the allure, beauty, and feminine mystique of the striking Cleopatra VII. And for casual days when I simply need to dress up a plain white tee, I shall peruse Forever 21’s colorful Jeweled Net Necklace. Tell me darlings…have you been bitten by the bib bug?

Six Is the Magic Number The past three months that I have been a subscriber to I Heart Daily have been tumultuous ones, if I do say so myself. Each day when I receive the little newsletter I find myself poring over people and things that I never would have been exposed to; which, when you think about it, is truly very dangerous – especially for a self-professed shopaholic. But I must commend myself cupcakes; I have refrained from so much as glancing at the pieces about what I “must own now,” focusing only on the more newsworthy/literary tidbits, which is how I became exposed to my latest unhealthy addiction: Six-Word Memoirs. Oh, I know it sounds fairly petty, but once you immerse yourself in the petit confessionary narratives of people from around the world, you begin to see that all of the quirky thoughts that infiltrate your mind truly aren’t as bizarre as you once imagined. Perhaps I should post some of my own: Addicted to shopping; please send money. Too naïve for my own good. I don’t want to grow up. What’s your six-word memoir loves?

Teacher’s Pet I can’t tell you how much they infuriated me in grade school, darlings. The teacher’s pets who always sat up straight; waved their hands to and fro in the air, the bearer of any answer the teacher happened to ask; and volunteered to take on such trivial tasks as clapping erasers after school or being hall monitor. The truth of the matter is; I believe my infuriation stemmed more from the fact that I longed to hold the title Teacher’s Pet over and above anything else. Yes, I confess, I wanted to be one of those snooty suck-ups. I desired to be the envy of my fellow classmates, the apple of my teacher’s eye, the Elizabeth Wakefield of the campus. But alas, I wasn’t. I just didn’t have it in me. I was too shy to show off; too timid to taunt; and too bashful to boast. Now I can be teacher’s pet without succumbing to any of the above; or at least my feet can. With ashidashi’s Back to School Socks, I can fulfill all my schoolgirl fantasies. The question is…which style will make me feel the most like an obnoxious teacher’s pet? The Pencil, the Notebook, or the Composition? Perhaps a set of all three would be the best option!

What were you smitten with this week?

Fashionably yours!

Thanks to So about what I said and Shopbop for the pictures.

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