strike one

Photography by Gabriel Cohen 

I'm a fashion blogger. I write about peter pan collars and pink lipstick and the women who wear them best. I post thousands of images of fancy ladies vogueing the camera donned in inspring outfits that illicit both tears and smiles all with an effortless swish of a taffeta skirt. When I'm not posting on my own blog however, I'm devouring the many other gems on the internet. Fashion street photography of marvelous men and women galavanting in-between shows, photographer's personal websites showcasing dreamy editorials shot in far away places and, perhaps my most embarrassing guilty pleasure, bloggers that find inspirational quotes and photoshop them on top of pixilated pictures of a couple kissing. One of the biggest trends in the blogosphere however are outfit posts, where bloggers manically clutch a Celine tote and stand in front of a brick wall on the streets of manhattan. They purse their lips and wiggle their knee caps and occasionally turn around to showcase the tiny pleat on the back of their Isabel Marant jacket. I wanted to try it out for myself. 

At first,  I thought I was doing a pretty good job. I had Tyra's voice in my head and I was trying to eye fuck the shit out of the camera. Smize smize smize. Karlie had nothing on me! I was already beginning to plan a new outfit post when I returned to Minnesota (read: fur on fur on fur) when things started to go downhill. 

In an effort to look carefree, fabulous and breezy I took out my top bun and shook out my hair. Fuck the bench, I was ready for bigger and better. In order to showcase my footwear, I tried to be both aerobic and seductive:

 When that failed, I attempted to illuminate my jacket in new innovative ways: 

But things got rough. 

Next time, I think i'll leave it to the professionals. 

(Jakcket: vintage, Top: Steven Alan, Jeans:  J brand, Shoes: Converse All Stars, Watch: Michael Kors)

ho ho ho

I learned at an early age that christmas--my christmas--was the most magical day of the year. So much so that when I was 14 and my family decided to go to London for the holiday and forgo our waffel breakfast and manic wrapping paper shredding in our living room that I cried when I was offered a crumpet that christmas morning. For my birthday that year my best friends threw me a christmas in early march and wrapped dominos boxes and forced me to remove my new Betsey Johnson dress and slip into a L.L. Bean onsie for the entire afternoon. Needless to say, the fake cardboard tree and empty presents were far more thrilling than Big Ben. Six years later, christmas is still just as fantastic. 

Happy holidays! xx

teenagers and tiaras

Pipe cleaners, friendship bracelets, and really good jewels. Seriously flirting with perfection. 

Photography by Nick Heavican

Fashion by Kelly Framel 

V MAGAZINE

for every action

wintered women

Yesterday I watched HBO's new documentary IN VOGUE: The Editors Eye (which features my fingernail and knee caps for 7 seconds so when you watch, kindly refrain from blinking) which follows the history of the magazine's conception in 1892 to the present. The documentary covers old-time powerhouses such as Polly Allen Mellen and Carlyne Cerf de Dudzeele as well as the current ladies who make Vogue, Vogue. After the film I got very teary eyed and emotional and stared at old pictures of Linda Evangelista and Nastassja Kinski for an uncomfortably long time, but in my travels also discovered Vogue's archival compilation of images of women who should look cold but instead look fabulous: