notorious b.i.g.

Necklaces have grown considerably in size over the past few years. Whereas pint-sized pendants on diminuitive gold and silver chains once reigned over the market, the hefty, the colossal, the vast now dominate. Sometimes they'll come in smorgasbords of entagled chains, pearls, lace and objets trouvés. Other times they'll come more plate-like, expansive planes of rhinestones or embroidery. No matter the case, you can count on them to regulate. What did we ever do without them? I, for one, can't get enough of my Twelve by Twelve ribbon neckpieces–to the point where my outfits often feel deficient without one.

As she is wont to do, Lauren of the shuttered Fops and Dandies recently tipped me off to Forever 21's recent influx of bossy bibs. Just in time, too, as I was looking to add some variety to my scant supply. Time for me to go out there and make some statements to the world!



First row: Silk Flowers Necklace, Round Cluster Bead Necklace, Princess Acrylic Necklace (no longer available). Second row: Tribal Leaf Rope Necklace, Eclectic Sequin Bib Necklace, Jewelled Medallions Necklace. (Apologies in advance if the links are dead–some of them are going like hot cakes!)

Background image: July 4th abstractions.

sparkle motion

Over the weekend, Partner and I went to watch a friend's performance at Jacques', a tranny club in the Theater District. It was the perfect opportunity to debut my Shakuhachi dress. While we were there, I got the vague impression that one of the venue's denizens was eyeing me out–or, more specifically, eying out my sequins. You can be dang sure, though, that I wasn't the only besequinned one in the room.

In other news, chalk this up to yet another outfit where bike shorts perform in a Starring Role. (If they were worn out of sight, merely for modesty, then they'd be relegated to a Supporting Role.)

Outfit: Target black cami, Shakuhachi dress, F21 lightweight trench, AA gold/black shiny bike shorts, Pierre Hardy x Gap brown platforms, Twelve by Twelve off-white ribbon necklace.

remains of the day

While traversing the streets of NYC, I peeked into I Heart's closing sale. Expectations were low; it was the last day of the sale and Michele had told me there wasn't much left. Indeed, pickings were Slim much like Jim and Shady, so much so that I thought I'd leave empty handed. Fortunately, in the eleventh hour, my rummage resulted in this Shakuhachi minidress. Doth thy eyes spy sheer navy and silver sequins?, I blinked in awe. No questions asked! The frock fit just as I had hoped–not corset-squeezing, breathing-prohibitive, but not shapeless sack either. (What I was to later uncover was that the dress was three sizes too big. No matter–size is just a number anyway.) The original tag was missing but at $65, I believe it a steal regardless of initial price. For what it's worth, though, most Shakuhachi dresses seem to go for well over $200. And by the way, that's not my midriff you're viewing beneath that navy flimsiness. It's a stretch nude panel that I suppose is meant give the illusion of skimpiness.

As I was paying, a bucket of veritable dregs beckoned me forth. From the dreary depths loomed this Medicom Fabrick x Kim Songhe beauty bag/coin purse. Strangely, it was still priced at its original and (in my opinion) exorbitant $55, but after some friendly chatting the salesgirl lowered it to $10. Often, a little warmth and politeness goes a long way. In this case: $45.

Outfit: Target black cami, Shakuhachi dress, AA gold/black shiny bike shorts, Converse creme low tops.

pandora's box

The box that my F-Troupe white gladiator flats came in has to be the hands-down, bow-down-I'm-not-worthy best cardboard container of footwear ever. (This is, of course, speaking from personal experience and not a proclamation in regards to the entire species of shoe boxes.)

Such elaborate illustrations! For sure, there's the overall Art Deco scheme (I shan't be forgetting the name of that era again), with ladies masquerading in their flapper and harlequin best. Others forgo clothes partially or completely; a Louise Brooks-bobbed girl flits by in her birthday suit while her doppelganger opts for heart-shaped pasties. Participants engage in near orgy-esque activity, while drink and drug abound. Indeed, on the bottom of the box a man reclines, smoking opium in isolation. The box exudes festivity, opulence and even mystery–undoubtedly I'll be using this as a chest for things dear. But one wonders, is there anything I could put inside that could possibly live up to such heady heights?

pink flamingos

Squeezing in a daily wear post when little time remains to do much else. These pics were taken by Martini of Beyond Boston Chic several weeks ago–hence the fantastic photographic quality.

Outfit: Target camisole, Peeps nude mesh hand top, Banana Republic hot pink shiny blazer, Maxine Dillon grey skirt, AA black lame leggings, Jeffrey Campbell white jazz shoes, Twelve by Twelve H&M dark taupe woven belt.

talk a blue streak

Technically, the only blue in this outfit is from the linen blazer, but does one not get the essence of that cerulean shade from the lavender, and even the silver? Anyway, this is what I wore to Sam Mendoza's fashion show at the Brattle. I talked about the presentation at lengthy, lengthy length in the previous post, but here I'll be brief. Over and out!

Outfit: Label NYC lavender asymmetrical top, Zara navy linen blazer, Maxine Dillon jersey grey skirt, American Apparel silver leggings, Dolce Vita grey wedge sandals, Nine West white leather belt.

sugar and spice and everything nice

Longtime blog readers may recall my questioning the merit of Sam Mendoza's wunderkind status; I did end up attending his Boston Fashion Week 2007 show as planned but quite honestly couldn't sort my thoughts out well enough to do a review at the time. Yet, while Sam's vision seemed somewhat underdeveloped, there was something about his work that made me think I should keep him on my radar. When BFW 2008 rolled around, I decided it was time to stop being part of his passive audience and instead volunteered to be a dresser. In doing so, I gained insight into Sam's perspective: We met minds on the subject of clothing origami, in both his designs and my experiments. (For what it's worth, being a dresser for Sam was far more interactive and exciting than it was for another designer's show.) Additional visits to his mini-studio at Stil revealed Sam's maturing skill; for instance, to counterbalance the deconstructed exteriors of his gowns, Sam has started to apply French seaming to his frock innards. (For more picking of the designer's brain, check out New Brahmin's full length feature.)

Clearly, Sam's strength lies in his ability to grow. His most recent presentation, at the Brattle Theatre last month, showcased a distinctly evolved and coherent approach. The show kicked off with a film collaboration with Future Machine. In its surrealism and darkness, the short had a distinctly David Lynchian atmosphere. But, although it focused on aesthetics and special effects, it lacked in storyline and apparent direction. One thing that bothered me about the context of the film in the fashion show was that it began without any introduction—as in, a title. And while a title can be shown at the end of a movie, the short also ended rather abruptly: No credits rolled, and there was an awkward 10-30 second pause of inactivity between the film's conclusion and commencement of the runway portion. (Interestingly, the short is posted for viewing on Future Machine's site; there, a title and credits roll at appropriate moments. Apparently it's called "Interlace." Off the subject, I love that Future Machine used a Squarepusher track for ambiance.)

Fortunately, there was some continuity. As the models began their march through the audience and up onto the stage, blue static played on the background screen—a carryover from the digital snow on TV sets in the film. The clothes themselves, as I said earlier, were an enormous step up from previous collections. Design concepts were much more deliberate and advanced; I particularly liked the refined color palette of champagne, rich tan, dark royal blue, chocolate and mauve, in the form of silk and lace. And the styling, done by Liana Peterson of New Brahmin, added so very much: A few brown Leschi Leather cross-body purses made their way onto more casual looks, but what really added the finishing touch were the Millie and Me costume necklaces. Crafted by Camilla Gallacher out of chains, stones, linens and ropes, the jewelry nicely counterbalanced the flounce and flow of Sam's wares. Topped off by circular tulle headpieces, the outfits—and, really, the collection as a whole—were by turns romantic and modern, whimsical and luxe.



All photos by dreamecho.

saturday night at the movies

Here's a relic from one Saturday evening in March: While Partner and I moseyed over to the Kendall Square Cinema to watch Gomorra, we stopped by some loading docks for an impromptu photo sesh. The pearl/gold clip-on earrings were the fruits of a recent raid on Mom's massive 70s/80s/90s era arsenal.

Outfit: H&M brown faux leather jacket, Steven Alan for UO charcoal wool shorts, We Love Colors pink tights, Jeffrey Campbell brown leather brogues, Mom's pearl/gold clip-on earrings, Zara chunky beige scarf.

oldies but goodies

This Sunday, Design Hive—the Cambridge monthly market for indie designers—is throwing Vintage Glam Day. There, you'll find one-of-a-kinds and vintage treasures galore from over 50 local designers. Come strut your stuff decked out as Marilyn Monroe or Molly Ringwald in Pretty in Pink. Why, you ask? Because Amy from Punky Style and I will be judging the style contest! The winner will receive a custom-made dress from d.ama designs (valued at $350). 70s and 80s jams will be playing all day, so come on down and get yo' groove on!

Sunday, June 7
10 AM - 5 PM
Vintage Style Contest at 1 PM
Maria Baldwin School
28 Sacramento St. (by Harvard Square)

wave that flag

Is it possible to keep on coveting something even after you've obtained it? That seems to be the case with me and this necklace. Colors and geometric shapes ensnare me nearly without fail, so when I read that Cheri of Scout Holiday was selling her multicolored flag necklaces on Etsy, I didn't think twice. (Chalk it up to another case of finding quality Etsy goods via the seller's blog.) I'm already wearing this rainbow of pennants in the previous post, though the photos didn't come out too well, and yet I find I'm still pining for the necklace as if it were merely a wish. Perhaps! This is proof positive that my strides towards appreciating and enjoying what I've got have come to fruition. Well, that, and the fact that the necklace harks back to simple, childhood, Crayola-induced pleasures.

Ah, good times.

when labels do matter

There's a saying among us that fashion brands don't matter, that what does matter is the quality of the garment itself. ("Quality," of course, being a flexible term—its use ranges from construction to color, fit and texture.) But while that's true, there is a certain point of identity and pride many take in the combinational origins of their apparel and accoutrements. For some, that's in the ability to mix vintage and designer. Others abide by vintage only, with the odd high-street basic like H&M tights. Then there are the masher-ups, who seek value in everything—be it indie, chain, designer, thrift, fast fashion, clothing not "intended" for your gender, self-made/modified, vintage, craft/goth/sex shops and Target—and will usually express this blend all at once in an outfit. Whatever the case, the sources and, more specifically, the medleys thereof that we wear likely put us into one pre-existing fashion breed or another. For all that we say brands don't matter—well, sometimes they kind of do.

Then there's Laura Whitcomb's Label. With its anti-logo stance, the line runs the risk of being pigeonholed into that angsty, counter-corporatocracy, different for the sake of being different category. Most wares made at this level usually turn out looking like poorly produced replications of one another. (Think shirts silk-screened with AK-47s, a concept which at this point has pretty much lost all traces of subversion.) Label, on the other hand, doesn't merely run from—it strives to uphold diversity and promote an energized liberation. Label is a world unto itself; somehow it fuses tradition and future in wholly unquantifiable ways.

A couple of months ago, I made a weekend jaunt down to NYC to hang with my homey Sharon. While waiting for her to get off of work, I hit up all my usual Soho/Nolita haunts and then popped into Label. Cohesion in collections has its place, but at the multifaceted Label, the fragmentary reigned and reigned well. The store housed all kinds of experiments in draping and fabric (loved the celestial prints and medieval velvets!), and there were garments for people of numerous sizes and ages, whether that be in body or in heart. Styles came in mostly one or two of a kind, so I'm guessing it's best to snap something up when one gets the chance. And, speaking of snapping things up, I decided on three pieces on sale: a caped white velvet dress with burnouts, a lavender asymmetrical tunic and a sheer lime dress (not shown). Though I count myself among those who try not to live by the rule of the label, these three designs all matter—very much to me.



Outfit: Label lavender asymmetrical top, La Meow vintage green ruffle shorts, Chloe brown leather gladiator mary janes, Scout-Holiday flag necklace, Nine West white leather belt.



Outfit: Label white velvet dress, Target black camisole, F21 black/white tie-dye leggings, Aldo black velcro platforms, Twelve by Twelve black ribbon neckpiece. (With F21 black/white striped cardigan at top of post.)

the reconstruction era

I consider myself an advanced eBay-er, in that I know how to hunt down what I want and frequently mosey across toothsome treasures. When it comes to Etsy, however, I pretty much bumble about in the dark through 10,000 canvas totes screenprinted with bicycles and an infinite hallway of DIY dresses that look a little too elementary in terms of print, innovation and quality. (The site's rooting in independent spirit is admirable, but certain craftspeople could stand to hold themselves up to higher standards.) My few and far between Etsy purchases can be credited either to the touting of other bloggers or the tooting of one's own horn on Etsy sellers' promotional blogs.

Fortunately, the run of no luck is over. A rather delirious search for bloomers unearthed Neneee, a line of reconstructed and from-scratch one-offs by Valerie King. Immediately, I was drawn in by the floral bloomers (handily and endearingly transformed from vintage culottes). King's attention to effervescent details and spin on current trends, however, kept me poking around. Scallop-hem bubble shorts, a nod to Chloé's spring collection, ventured out to printed pastures in paisley and seersucker while the incongruously placed long sleeves on her Contortionist tops were well-aligned with the multi-purpose garment movement (and also quite in line with my Thirteen Ways of Looking at a Blackbird series, methinks). But beyond mere aping, the Guam-based King also serves up fresh ideas, like cut-out shoulders that zip up—should you get chilly later in the night, advises the designer herself.

As a matter of fact, Neneee is satisfying on multiple counts. First, there's the clothes with their buoyant and cheeky character. Next, her wares are totally economically attainable; generally ranging $25-$70, these are prices that are practically unheard of for this level of customization and inventiveness. And finally, to indulge us geeks clamoring for all the dirty details, King describes her step-by-step design process, noting slices of mega-pork chop sleeves, de-fuddy-duddying of muumuus and additions of zipper-structured corsages. (Not getting your fill of salvaging procedures from her current listings? Forage through her Etsy archives for past creations and accompanying explanations.) Most of her clothes are available at the smaller end of the spectrum (which is very good and well for all us petite ladies!), but I do believe she will take special requests*.

The formerly home-schooled and now online course-taking designer professes that she is "inspired by the everyday, the mundane. Not everything has to be a big show or have a deeper meaning." Clearly, though, her mental gears are rotating and clicking in a way that is none too bland. She also reveals that her "primary goal is to slowly progress and be happy about whatever it is I might be doing at the time." If what we see in Neneee is any indication, King is undoubtedly rebuilding and building at just the right pace—and she must be a very happy camper indeed.

* Correction: My bad! Valerie tends not to do custom orders because she works organically, letting items evolve without force towards precise measurements. It's worth sending her a conversation though to see if something can be worked out.

flower power

Now that I've debuted my Pinkyotto dress, I can share this blooming getup. I've certainly never been one to shy away from pairing prints of the same family, and the blazer and frock have been dangling, quite alluringly, side by side in my closet for a few weeks.

If I may be a "this is what I wore when I went to buy a latte" blogger for a moment (surely most of us are to some degree), I donned a variation of the above for brunch with Boston fashion compatriots Martini of Beyond Boston Chic and Liana of New Brahmin. Sometimes I think I could just eat my way through the South End; the eggs benedict at the South End Buttery is spot on, and I didn't realize that side dishes (tater tots and garlic roasted broccoli with parmesan, a late-afternoon snack from Stephi's on Tremont) could be so delicately refined.

Outfit: Pinkyotto floral dress, Topshop floral blazer, Dolce Vita grey wedge gladiators.

pink positive

DailyCandy gives the word, and I'll often heed the call. This time, the command involved a journey to Pinkyotto. (The Dig and Stuff chimed in a few weeks later; a tad too late, though, as I'd already scoped out the store twice. For better or worse, the mighty speed of the Internet triumphs once again.) Praised for its one-off, unblushingly flouncy frocks, the newly landed Newbury boutique has been a bit of a mini-sensation here in Boston as of late. Currently this branch is the only one outside of NYC; the shuttered LA arm apparently transferred its goods to the Beantown location earlier this year.

I purchased two dresses—the adorableness thereof needs no explanation. But while the wares legitimately demand a high level of gushing and fawning, a bit too much adulation was coming from the sales people. As I holed up in the dressing room during my first visit, squeals of "That's so cute!" transmitted through the fuchsia grosgrain curtains every three minutes over the span of 30 minutes. (Yeah, I take my time in the dressing room. You gotta problem widdat?) I assumed the cries were of girlfriends reacting to the sight of darlingly outfitted pals, but it soon became clear that the blandishment was coming from the employees. Fair enough, but on second visit, to humor and educate me, my friend Martini intentionally put on clothes that were wrong for her body type. As soon as she stepped out of the dressing room, the two sales associates (oblivious to our teaching session) cooed, "That's so cute!" And yet it was patently obvious that the dress fit poorly. Martini then proceeded to explain what was wrong with the fit, effectively schooling the saleswomen in proportions and sincerity. (Tell it like it is, lady!)

Although one has to wonder at the repetitive and unwarranted complimenting, Pinkyotto is surely worth a visit. The clothes very nearly stand up to the hype, and an issue of genuineness in customer service is an easily solve-able kink that a new store can work out. In truth, such effervescent clothing requires very little verbal flattery at all; the proof is in the mirror, in the customer's smile at her reflection. I should know—after all, did I not buy two frocks myself?

crystal habit

Nerves and health have frayed over the past month, so it's apt I hope my new amethyst pendant's soothing and calming properties will actually manifest themselves. The stone is known for relieving tension and physical pain, as well as protecting the wearer against harm, sickness and danger.

I was initially and vaguely turned onto the idea of wearing crystals by Unearthen's bullet-enclosed adaptations. Their $200 pricetags didn't exactly solidify a particular longing for such necklaces, though, so I kept calm and carried on. Fortunately, my timely trip back to Oahu reminded me of Sedona's offerings. A store dedicated to spiritual growth, Sedona is the real deal when it comes to metaphysical wares (presuming one goes for such things). No overpriced jewelry catered to the rarefied fashion set found here, just straight up rocks, music and incense for healing and strengthening. I used to browse the store as a kid, back in the early nineties, marveling over the indefinable mystical aspects of things; I returned as an adult a decade-and-a-half later with a clear idea of what I wanted.

The necklace came in at under $17, well worth it in my opinion for any possible boost in memory, intuition and mental clarity. Throw that in with purple being my unsung power color, and amethyst becomes an obvious, crystallized choice.