26 April 2007

Pass The Buck

Really? Antlers? I rarely buy into fads, but I don't know who will buy into this. Will you?
As metaphor for a bucolic ideal, antlers are fine. But their proliferation in fashion (in jewelry and graphics on T-shirts and hoodies) and home design (as candlestick holders and chandeliers) suggests a deeper societal meaning. To be sure, in various cultures, antlers symbolize masculine aggression, regeneration, sacrifice, financial stability and, in some cases, Satanism (see Joan Fontaine in “The Witches”). In popular culture, they are likely to mean something else entirely, but what?

19 April 2007

Guinness, The Wall

School and midterm-prep have been taking a toll on my fashion creativity. Living off of caffeine, Emergen-C and four hours of sleep isn't great for the body or mind. Lately I've been craving the perfect school clothes... easy, and above all, comfortable. I have a few t-shirts that are nearly translucent from use, and I love them dearly. The Guinness t-shirt that I'm wearing below has been a good friend to me for nine years. My outfits recently consist of (aforementioned) comfy t-shirts, cardigans or hoodies or a trenchcoat, baggy ripped-up old jeans and Converse.

I have just added a new favorite t-shirt to my collection. The shirt below is from The Ryde and is a perfect combination of stretchy and soft. So soft. So reminiscent of a certain Pink Floyd album. Check out The Ryde's other fun t-shirts, too; I can't emphasize enough just how amazing this shirt feels.

16 April 2007

Read and Discuss: Louisa May Alcott

Work is wholesome, and there is plenty for everyone; it keeps us from ennui and mischief, is good for health and spirits, and gives us a sense of power and independence better than money or fashion.

08 April 2007

Mancunian Musings

I once had a Mancunian roommate. She was hilarious, blunt and unaffected and had the very British sense of humor that I love so well. I wonder if Agyness Deyn (née Agnes Hollins) is still so Northern in her temperament?

My Francophile roots

I was attempting to explain to someone this week the roots of my francophilia. My mother, having lived in France as a child, endued me with a childhood full of baguettes and café au lait, Edith Piaf and the smells of Roger Gallet and Guerlain. One of my earlier memories is singing along to "Sur la Pont d'Avignon" as it played on the record player. When I got a little older, I'd swoon over the cover of my mother's Sacha Distel album as he crooned, "Je vends des pommes, des poires, Et des scoubidoubi-ou ah!" (Even as a child, I knew just how risqué the lyrics were.) Every evening around six, my mother would holler up the stairs to me and my siblings, "Á la table, sil vous plait!"

I understand that baguettes and the occasional 'svp' thrown in do not make me French. And appreciation for 1950s French music doesn't either. But French things remind me of my mother, and grandmother and my childhood. Being in France feels familiar and comfortable to me, despite the language barrier.

Here is a picture of my aunt (L) and mother (R) in Chambley, France, where they lived. My grandfather won an award for this picture in 1959.

05 April 2007

The Wayfarer, The Aviator

Rosanna and me at the Sunday Fremont Market. I like the glasses.

04 April 2007

America The Beautiful

America Ferrera in W Magazine