clearly, somebody needs to get with the seasonal program

Speaking of wanting sneakers that work well in the cooler months.... Why, hey—it's a fall '09 outfit!

I worked that in pretty smoothly...eh?

*crickets*

Outfit: Vintage boys sweatshirt, AA jean skirt, drugstore tights (navy, not black!), Jeffrey Campbell oxfords, F21 necklace, Gap belt.

flora and fauna

As I was flicking through the latest Anthropologie catalog, I came across an artful jumble of canvas kicks. I'm sure you can picture it: Staged just so, so as to give off the look that a small flock of carefree indie girls had returned to their summer beach house and ever so casually kicked off their shoes as they dreamily ambled towards shabby chic couches upon which they would drape their necessarily lithe bodies about in various poses of languor.

Ahem.

Anyway, I was curious as to the brand of the shoes and—since Anthro and baby sis Urban Outfitters apparently have a congenital defect that prevents them from listing the names of designers whose work is featured in their very pages—I checked online to see who made them. Upon ascertaining the sneakers were by Superga, I proceeded to hit up trusty Zappos for a wider selection. Out of the webpage sprang some hairy zebra-striped sneaks. (Limited edition, on sale, blahblahblah.) Indeed, they are reminiscent of the Opening Ceremony x Keds collaboration, but I am partial to Superga's black midsole and overall sturdier look. And, even though nobody puts Baby in a corner/does a light summer trainer like Keds, the more substantial Supergas have the benefit of looking better with both summer and winter outfits. (When one's bundled from head to toe, it can be mighty tough to pull off flimsy looking shoes.)

Another patterned kick carving out a modicum of mindspace as of late is this floral iteration from the New Balance x Nine West collaboration. My mild aversion to printed Converse loosely extends to all trainers, but I'll surely make an exception for these ditsy buds on my feet.

Background image: Dandelion.

it's showtime

Hiking in Maine. Nowhere near as treacherous as it looks.

Apparently, once one stops blogging, starting up again is quite the task. To clarify, I haven't been interning in NYC all this time. When I first got back, I was immensely busy playing catch up at work and with slumber. This doesn't account for the entirety of my absence, though. I've also spent much time reading books, watching movies, walking for the sheer pleasure of the motion, basking in the sun and quasi-crafting. And those are just the tactile activities—it goes without saying that many an hour were spent on self-reflection, experience cataloging, development of concepts and revisions of goals. There were moments when I thought that I ought to get back to blogging, but the satisfaction of partaking in the aforementioned activities always won over. Quite simply, I had come to enjoy life as a private citizen.

Whether it takes a great deal out of oneself or not, the act of displaying oneself, online, requires performance at a unique plane of existence. A heightened awareness, of one's experiences, is certainly at work; at the same time, I think there's a lack of awareness or, rather, disregard for confidentiality. The level of readership is irrelevant—you're out there, publicly, for the world's observation.

Blogging, then, is truly at odds with my primarily reclusive nature. Like the ocean's tides, there's a perpetual push-pull. Sometimes I enjoy coming out to frolic and engage on the shore, other times I find my peace in retreat, seclusion. And, yet, turtle-nature and all, there's something I find quite satisfying in publishing—that composing of a compendium of my fashion cravings, experiments and achievements. (Surely the word 'achievements' is none to great for describing outfits that have made one happy!)

All this is my roundabout way of greeting ye and catching ye up, once again.