nothing about you is typical

A few household issues have been plaguing my life. I'm still settling into my new place - now that all my furniture has arrived - and am planning an apartment warming party in October. In the meantime, I've discovered the joys of rock band, had a box of clothes stolen, and acquired some excellent jewelry that would make Lillie's mother proud (Virgin Mary, anyone?).

I saw this hottie this morning, but I have no idea what site I grabbed the photo. If you know, let me know, so I can give the proper credits.



source: facehunter

better than it looks

On my last day in Japan, I went to Harajuku/Omotesando for some last minute shopping and people watching. Despite the fact that the two districts each has its own subway station, the distance between the two is about less than a mile's walk. On a long stretch of road, trees dot the spaces between major designer houses and fanciful cafes. Anything and everything you could ever dream of is here. Chanel sits next to Martin Margiela, and one could spend a down payment on a house in a one block radius at Comme des Garcons, Prada, and Dolce & Gabanna.

Photography was restricted inside all the stores, but each building had a unique exterior - a deep tribute to Tokyo's reverence to mixing its architecture with high fashion.




The Comme des Garcon store has a clever piece of window decaling. I personally think it's to prevent photographers from getting a good shot of their merchandise. It pretty much distorts any view of the inside unless you are literally standing in front of the window, peering in between the space between the dots.

The store itself is set up like a maze, and I had a rather difficult time navigating through it. (Only because I'm extremely left brain challenged.) The workers are selectively friendly. I feigned disinterest until the girl with the mushroom cut came over to assist me with her delightfully adorable snaggletooth smile. I tried on a few of the runway pieces until I realized that I wasn't fit for most of Rei Kawakubo's creations. But I did manage to find a few pieces that I liked, which will eventually find their way onto the blog once the weather starts to cool down.



Spotted: trendy man walking down the street. I stalked him until he entered the D&G store. He works there.




The Prada building was extremely fascinating. You couldn't walk into the building because there are no doors on the building itself. You had to enter through this side tunnel that felt like you were entering a depth of credit card hell. Gives you a moment to think and turn around before damning yourself to bad credit.



I'm not a huge fan of Louis Vuitton, but the windows were very enticing. The monograms on the left would light up in intervals, and then there would be a sparkle display. It was exciting. Even for 10 in the morning.



I was super excited to see the Dior store, which was designed by Sanaa - the people behind The New Museum in the Lower East Side in NYC. I'm a huge fan of their avant garde design work, as well as Kazuyo Sejima's sartorial preference (Comme des Garcons).

if you're a hipster in atlanta, raise your hand

Dear Atlanta hipsters,

In a time such as now and in a society such as ours, we are like the Parisian bohemians protesting the bourgeoisie society in the early 19th century in pursuit of a greater calling revolving around the treasured ideals of freedom, beauty, truth, and love (taken straight out of "Moulin Rouge" without shame). You want to throw away the social stigma attributed to your private school background and submerge into an underground culture in order to redefine yourself. I get it. But can we get something straight? Don't you think it's a bit of a contradiction to be against uniformity and then go and create a uniform of your own?

Okay, I'm going to be honest. This isn't about you compromising your ideals. This is really about me really fucking hating seeing everyone and their moms wearing an American Apparel tee, skinny jeans, leather motorcycle jackets, and Raybans at El Bar. The place is sticky already with a mixture of drinks and vomit. I really don't enjoy rubbing up against your faux leather in 98% humidity. That said, now that we're straight on where I stand, the next time I see you in this ridiculous getup, I'm going to assume that you want me to punch you in the face - which I shall do gladly.


Unisex Tri-Blend Tee, Leather Moto Jacket, Black Skinny Jeans, Rayban Wayfarer

makes my heart flutter, pitter patter

The last time I had a crush on a blonde boy was Devon Sawa. It was right after I saw him on "Casper" and escalated when he played Christina Ricci's love interest in "Now and Then." By the time "Wild America" came out, it had tapered but I still feel nostalgic about him.

That's what I thought about when I saw these pictures on Stockholm Street Style last week.



Their styles are starkly contrasting. On the left is the casual, student look, and on your right is a more polished, post-grad/young professional. Why can't men in the A look more like this? All I get is urban or badly dressed yuppie (suits in a pub - SERIOUSLY?! You're not that special). Can I get a break?

what's yo number, baby?

Every now and then, I am absolutely floored by a street style picture of a man. It happens maybe once every six months or so. (Yes, I am that picky.)

When I saw this man on The Sartorialist today, my mouth literally hung open. He looks absolutely perfect. I love it all. The shorts, the jacket, the shoes, the sunglasses, even that Louis Vuitton planner (I HATE Louis Vuitton monograms). I want it all. God, why can't men who look like this not be gay or not be an asshole?

On days like this, I am reminded of the fact the world is not fair.

source: The Sartorialist