Thursday, April 25, 2013

Overalls

(blazer, American Apparel / blouse, vintage / overalls, thrifted with DIY distressing / shoes, Zara)


Last night, to celebrate me finally finding a decent pair of overalls at the thrift store, Mike and I went to a little Italian place in our neighborhood for appetizers and drinks. Not having typical 9 to 5s give us the freedom to scope out the best dinner and drink specials in Chicago, and we might have found the best last night at Francesca's Bryn Mawr. Small plates were just $5 each, and they were hardly small. Our mushroom risotto and lentil and spinach dish were accompanied with a beer for Mike and a very strong Manhattan for me. I, in typical Lora fashion, got drunk from that one drink and spent the walk home telling Mike (very loudly, with a few slurs) about my childhood adventures wearing overalls.

 In first grade I used to wear overalls with different colored body suits that snapped at the crotch, so going to the bathroom was a nightmare. Especially for me, who was too shy to ask to use the bathroom until it got to emergency status. When my family lived in North Carolina, my brother and I used to collect tree frogs and put them in the bib pockets so we didn't crush them when we sat down. We'd set them free before coming in to dinner, but every once in a while there would be an extra small one tucked inside our pants we didn't see. One night I woke up to the sound of a frog chirping, and there he was, a tiny pocket tree frog on my pillow. 

I don't think I'll be storing frogs in my new bibs, but they do hold my phone, keys, and credit card. You may think they're ugly, but I support any garment that lets me leave the house sans purse. 



Tuesday, April 23, 2013

Clyde's Rebirth



(photo by Merl Kinzie)



If there is one good thing about posting pictures of your outfits and sharing bits of your life on the internet, it's getting to meet people with similar interests, senses of humor, and number of cats. Lately I've had the pleasure of getting to know fellow Chicagoan and jewelry designer, Merl Kinzie, and her gang of equally beautiful and talented gal pals. Along with owning dance floors and handling her whiskey like a boss, Merl designs and makes the prettiest adornments. Her line, Clyde's Rebirth, features necklaces, bracelets, and bodychains (!) that range in size and price, from delicate bolo tie-inspired necklaces like I'm wearing above (it's a bolo AND a necklace! It's like she designed it just for me), to bold, bib necklaces that make a plain tee look glamorous. The best part about her jewelry is that it's all made from recycled materials, so you'll look Stevie Nicks cool without contributing to the waste big box stores create. Donning a Clyde's Rebirth original is a win for Earth, and win for Merl, and a win for me, because giving Merl money helps pay for her nights out with me, which I'm a fan of.

Check out her spring/summer lookbook that just launched yesterday to ogle the baubles and foxy babes who modeled them (or get my 29th birthday gift out of the way by heading straight to her online shop and purchasing the Marguerite. Whichever).

Thank you so much for asking me to be a part of your lookbook, Merl! And for posting the least offensive of my outtake photos. You're too kind.


Wednesday, April 17, 2013

Mothers


shades, vintage from Suburban Secrets / necklace, gift from Merl Kinzie / tee, Everlane / coat, vintage / jeans, handmedown & DIY / shoes, Clarks


If it wouldn't embarrass her so, I'd include a photo of my mother from her high school days to show how much we look alike when wearing huge 70's sunglasses. Hers were much cooler than mine though, because hers had her name, Beth, engraved into the bottom of the left lens. She inherited her love of glasses from my great grandmother, who worked as an optician and owned at least a dozen pairs herself. When my mom asked for rose tinted glasses with her name engraved on them for Christmas, my grandfather thought it was ridiculous. "No one asks for glasses for Christmas!" Expect now I do, too. 

This coat, given to me by Mike's mom, is one of my favorite pieces. While I don't wear it often (it makes a statement that's a little too loud for my typical day), I love that she wore it at the height of this style's popularity. It's definitely one of those pieces everyone identifies with the 60's, and I'm glad she had the mind to keep it in such good condition and hang on to it all these years. Wearing what I see as a fashion relic makes me look at my closet and wonder what future generations will deem quintesentially millennial. What will make them say, "Holy shit, that's soooo 2013?" I hope to god it's not neon. 




Thursday, April 11, 2013

Kurt





Six years ago today I was sitting in my Chaucer class at Indiana University when I learned Kurt Vonnegut had just died. I burst into tears and the professor asked if I needed to leave, so I did, and smoked a pack of Pall Malls and cried some more. But then I remembered that joke he told at a fellow humanists' funeral, "He's up in heaven now."

I've been laughing ever since. 

Thank you, Kurt. You've done this weirdo a whole lot of good.

"Everything was beautiful, and nothing hurt."
Slaughterhouse-Five