Thursday, February 27, 2014


coat, The Vintage Mistress / tee, Zara / jeans, Very Best Vintage / Doc Martins, Deja Vintaj / bag, vintage / bracelet, Clyde's Rebirth 

It was so cold when we took the above photos that my lipstick froze into tiny little red chunks then fell off my mouth like an ice shelf falling into the ocean. But I'm not going to complain about the cold, because the alternative is moving to LA where people don't buy their meat by the cow, go to niche gyms, and wear jackets when it's 70 degrees. Ugh. I can't.

I haven't had breakfast yet and therefore can hardly see straight, so instead of boring you with mindless chatter here's an unintentionally hilarious article about "normcore" fashion. Read, ponder, put on your best Jerry Seinfeld duds, and discuss.

Friday, February 14, 2014


(hat, coat, dress, purse, all vintage / shoes, Zara)

Happy Valentine's Day! Mike and I decided to beat the holiday crowds and celebrate yesterday with a wonderful lunch at Blackbird. It was my first time there and I really couldn't have designed a better restaurant for my husband and I if I tried. It has everything he likes; an ultra modern space, creative ingredients, artful presentation, and flavored butter. It also has everything I like; messy ham sandwiches, french fries, beer, and waiters who get to wear their own ties. The only slight drawback is the general clientele, who are mostly older wealthy folks who I'm pretty sure spend their weekends trying to reenact Eyes Wide Shut in their lakeside mansions. But that's kind of the norm for downtown dining. You're either going to eat next to kinky rich white people or sweatpant-clad tourists who complain about how expensive everything is. Or quarterback Jay Cutler, who is both.

Thursday, February 6, 2014

Year of the Jumpsuit

hat, Goorin Bros / necklace, Clyde's Rebirth / sweater, Dear Golden / jumpsuit, boutique in Bloomington ages ago / boots, Clark's

I couldn't do it. Despite my photographer husband's insistence that the snow would make for pretty outfit photos, there was no way in hell I was going outside unless it involved getting immediately into a cab, then into the corner booth of a restaurant with a good drink menu. I've had efuckingnough. Since my birthday is this weekend, I got my way about the cab and nice restaurant and spent my afternoon shoving margaritas and flan down my gullet. I used to let the hassle that is using a public restroom while donning an adult onesie deter me from wearing them, but hell, this is the last year of my twenties, so if someone is going to open the door on me while I'm peeing and see me topless, this should be year. 

Today a pal asked what plans I had in store for my 29th year, and while world domination sounded fun, I've decided I'm going to focus most of my energy on wearing jumpsuits. I've loved them before, but this year I'm going to take my love to a whole new level. Like, a memorizing-my-jumpsuit's-schedule-and-surprising-it-with-its-favorite-coffee-drink-and-a-mix-tape level (that's love, right?). I think I'd like to have a Carhartt jumpsuit, to get me through Polar Vortex XVI, and then I'll graduate to a Kill Bill inspired suit for spring. By the summer I hope to find a jumpsuit that's both patriotic and polyester, so I learn who my real friends are. Come fall I'll just wear the grey one above until my 30th birthday rolls around on February 9th, 2015, when I'll don the greatest jumpsuit of all, complete with proton pack and laser gun...

Jumpsuits lead to greatness, whether it be killing your old assassin friends or saving your city from a giant marshmallow. This year, my 29th, I officially declare The Year of the Jumpsuit. Look out, world. I'm kicking ass and taking names. Just as soon as I learn how to zip this damn thing up by myself.