In this post I wanted to share some the favorite corners of my home. From my upholstered coffee table, flowers from our garden, book nooks, and to the ever-present baby gear (love our new high chair!), these are the things that make this home feel like us.
I partnered with LA Furniture Store to bring you a $150 giveaway. LA Furniture offers a wide selection of modern furniture and decor, in addition to transitional pieces that would fit in any home. I have included some of my favorite items (each $150 or less) from their shop. I really want that starburst wall mirror!
Every new mom needs one. I was three months pregnant when my diaper bag search began. Now, I love handbags; give me buttery suede, vachetta leather, metal hardware, secret pockets, and a flirty drop length. With in mind, you can understand why my pregnancy glow was diminished when I found that the diaper bag market is comprised of poofy, pastel, nylon behemoths. I began to wonder: was my diaper bag supposed to replace my purse? Because I did not know how I felt about that. I started to think that by replacing my bag, I was surrendering a part of my identity. While babies might find Winnie the Pooh totally charming, I don’t want a little pants-less bear all over my everyday bag.
“Well, that’s it,” I said to my husband, “there goes my sexy womanhood… I’m a mom now… with a horrible bag. Are these mom jeans now?”
“Aren’t all your jeans mom jeans now?” he asked with a wry smile.
Why was this even a big deal, right? It is just a bag. Right? I held off on the diaper bag decision for a couple months and I would go through a few more stages of soon-to-be-mommy disquietude. I went on three distinct diaper bag adventures and failed each time.
At first I thought that whenever I went out, I would just bring two bags. One for baby and one for me. I mean, I have seen businesswomen carry two bags to work. I tried the double-bag method to baby’s first checkup. A canvas diaper bag was on my shoulder. With my free arm I was carrying the baby inside her car seat through the lobby and toward an elevator. My lilac quilted leather Kate Spade dangled on a skinny chain and as I drew closer to the elevator I had to arch my shoulder more and more so that my bag wouldn’t slip. Not an elegant arrangement. I vowed, never again.
Next, I decided that I would just have to find a really, really nice baby bag. Designer diaper bags are never referred to as “diaper bags” instead, they are called “baby bags.” You can find baby bags by LV, Prada, Burberry, and Gucci. And in the slightly-less-expensive-but-still-expensive genre, you can find baby bags by Kate Spade or Marc by Marc Jacobs. Some of the latter styles were so pretty they could pass for purses. The others seemed to me so extravagant as to be silly—spend over $1000 for something that will some day hold soiled baby onesies? Who am I, Kanye West? When I handled some in real life, I was disappointed by the lack of functionality. Even I knew that the bag had to have substance and style.
What, your baby doesn’t have a Gucci bottle warmer? You terrible mother.
These were the Scylla and Charybdis of diaper bags. On my third attempt I went out with the small and plain canvas diaper bag we received off on our registry. Save for a debit card and my phone, I left the rest of my stuff at home. Inevitably, I longed for the contents of my purse: my lip balm, a tin of mints, a book, hair tie, pen. Ultra-minimalist diaper bag packing was not for me. There had to be a better option out there. Just as in matters of love, the right one will find you when you stop looking. Let me tell you, the perfect baby bag found me.
It’s the Ju-Ju-Be baby bag! I can tell that a mom designed it. Allow me to gush about all its smart features. First, it has a coating on the exterior so it’s simple to wipe clean and no worries if I am ever caught in a summer shower. I am used to covering my purse with my coat when it rains, so this is a big deal for me. This baby bag also has a little opening on one corner that acts as a sort of trapped door to empty out all the little bits and crumbs that end up on the bottom of our bags. And if you have one of those truly intense mommy-baby outings, the whole thing is machine washable.
So… many… pockets.
I’m all about substance over style now—at least in so far as diaper bags are concerned. That means cleanliness and being more solutions-oriented. I have learned you should look for a diaper bag that has a light color lining, because when the lining is dark it makes it hard to find things inside. When my baby is crying and needs a change, bottle, or snack, those extra seconds matter and saves me from a baby that goes from fussy to meltdown-mode. There are no loud Velcro fasteners on this bag (shhh, baby is sleeping); the bag has zippers and magnetic closures.
The diaper bag did not replace my purse, but I have a place in our diaper bag to keep a few of my essentials and I save my nice bags for going out sans baby. Inside the “mommy pocket” there is a place for my wallet, key, glasses, hand sanitizer, pen, book, camera—all in its own place so I never have to dig for my lipstick amongst stray diapers. The Ju-Ju-Be brand has cute add-ons too like a “pacifier pod” that clips onto the bag. Our baby doesn’t use a pacifier but I almost want to get it just so I can stash something in the pod. But what? Contenders: shot glass, ibuprofen, birth control, emergency cash. Now, some of the are a little loud but a few I really love, including a pretty red geometric print and a blue floral print. And so ended my diaper bag odyssey.
What would YOU keep in a paci pod?
There is an adage that “wisdom cannot be told.” Some things you have to learn yourself. Well, you have to become a mom to really understand the nature of the (diaper bag) beast. It took me a few months but one day, I just knew. A diaper bag isn’t about identity, surrender, or mom jeans. It’s about being smart when you go out with a baby! Thus, you would be wise to choose something that can serve your needs best—whatever those may be. Because ultimately what the perfect diaper bag will do is become invisible. I take my daughter to the park, to the library, grocery shopping, pediatrician visits, or to browse the bookstore. We travel together. She is seeing the world for the first time and I get to see her seeing it for the first time. Our bag? It just carries stuff.
This is what my husband looks like these days. I love a man with a baby. Ju-Ju-Be is Hangover approved.
So mamas, what do you think of this bag? Am I the last person to find out about Ju-Ju-Be? Do you love your diaper bag? Are you a single woman who doesn’t even want to think about diaper bags—I totally understand—run away! Let me know.
I feel like an adult when I prepare. After becoming a mom I learned that a successful day is often just good preparation. Keep your bag stocked with all of baby’s and your needs. Buy things like Baby Motrin before baby ever gets a fever. Don’t wait to run out of diapers to replenish. Charge your phone. Plan meals in advance. Always carry cash.
But sometimes the inclination to prepare can get out of hand.
The other night a thought crossed my mind: “Maybe I should buy some bottled water?” This quickly turned into, “We definitely need bottled water for guests or just for convenience,” which turned into “shouldn’t we have emergency supplies like water in the house?” This became “oh my god we live in California and we don’t even have an earthquake kit?!” Next I’m researching non-perishable foods, flashlights, those crinkly foil blankets, and emergency baby supplies. But then I slipped into thinking about a true disaster, like in the movies. We would need cash, things to barter (gold? should I buy gold?), tactical backpacks—not normal backpacks—tactical ones, supplies we can carry, hiking shoes, weatherproof clothing sleeping bags, and maybe a tent. And since I’m now envisioning some post-apocalyptic survival scenario, we might need a weapon. A gun? Two guns. Whoa whoa that seems crazy. Maybe a knife? Yea. A knife. Maybe a gun.
I think the sometimes-beautiful-comedy that is my life would be well suited to Italian cinema of the 1950s, which was the inspiration behind this dress. The dresses from the era are so full and swishy, I added a short tulle skirt underneath my dress for volume. I think eyelet dresses are romantic and love the slightly structured bodice of this one. My evening involved fizzy drinks, sitting under strings of lights, a dramatic exit, and ended with me tip-toeing barefoot into my house with my husband to find a sleeping baby, so I would say the night had plenty of movie moments.
Dress: Ralph Lauren, Sunglasses: asos, Jacket: asos, Shoes: Valentino
—This was one of the first things that crossed my mind when I first learned I was pregnant. For about a minute I contemplated buying plane tickets immediately just so I could be in Paris with my husband before the baby arrived. But the thought of being in Paris without the ability to drink wine was too heartbreaking to think of, so my dream was quickly quashed. I know this is a silly worry - is it? And maybe even a little selfish, which in mommy blog world is pretty much a cardinal sin, “Thou shalt always think of your child first.” Clearly, I was off to a bad start. Would my child one day see me as her own Lucille Bluth?
And what’s so great about that French city anyway? I guess because I’ve only been there in my mind. Maybe I’ve been hooked ever since I read the children’s book Madeline, which is really strange when you think of it. Tell me you got appendicitis at boarding school and I don’t think, “oh how charming!” It must have been those dreamy illustrations. And it’s been figurative illustrations ever since. Oh, to see Paris with my own eyes, not just through Hemingway, James, Dickens, or Baldwin. Or it would be just likethe film Midnight in Paris and time would blur and the sky would actually turn into Van Gogh’s Starry Night.
Of course, there’s no where else to stay but the Plaza Athénée, just like Carrie Bradshaw—because if you’re going to Paris you might as well go all the way to Paris. And lots of wine and laughter and love. That’s how I imagine myself in France. So you see that fiction, reality, and dreaminess have all thoroughly mixed together in my mind, like a 10AM cocktail swirling in mother Bluth’s hand (with toast!). I confided in my mother about my worries about my future non-existent travel. She told me exactly what I needed to hear: “Oh darling, you can still do all those things and I will watch your baby if ever you need a vacation alone with John.” Thanks mom.
So maybe the dream is not dashed, just delayed. For now, here’s a peek into my Parisian style imagination, in which I prance around the City of Light with my friends Isabel Marant, Vanessa Bruno, and Sonia Rykiel.
This post was originally written for another blog but I am reprinting here. The links are out of date but the ideas aren’t. I wrote this when I still pregnant. I still see myself in Paris one day, but Julia is there too.
Sometimes I wish I could go back in time and shake my pre-mommy self into working more. In retrospect, I had so much time back then. Being a work-at-home mom sometimes feels like a comedy of errors:
My day starts at 7AM when the baby wakes but let me fast-forward to around 10AM when I decide to work. Alright, the baby is playing quietly in her swing? Great! Let me get some work done. I get everything ready and I start working: I’m reading over some documents, I glance over at the baby, glance back to the documents.
Look at me, I’m such a modern mom!
But quiet time only lasts 10 minutes. Sigh. I unbuckle baby out of the swing and nurse her for 15 minutes until she falls asleep. I place her gently in her crib and sit down in front of my laptop. Now hmmm, why doesn’t anticipatory repudiation apply to unilateral contracts? Ohh wait I suppose that if the deal is such that… Wahhhh!
I tip toe to the bedroom and peep inside at the edge of the door. The baby catches my eye and flails her arms as if to say “Hurry!” I pick baby up. Really, just a 30 minute nap? She lays her head softly onto my shoulder, head of curls a mess. Yes, I can rock you for a little while until you wake up fully.
Once baby is awake she sits in her Bumbo, a baby-sized seat made of some kind of rubbery foam. There she watches The Chica Show, about a puppet chicken that communicates in squeaks and works in a magical costume shop.
While baby is entertained I shall make myself a salad. Feeling ambitious, I even make my own salad dressing whipping up dijon, honey, and balsamic vinegar. I chop up a small avocado. I slice two dates and crumble some goat cheese. Ah, a beautiful and nutritious meal.
Look at me eating things I bought at the Farmer’s Market, I’m such a natural mom!
Let me just sit down to—wwwahhh!—Well, ok baby, I can hold you on my lap while I eat my salad. I eat quickly. It’s nursing time again. I sit in repose cradling the baby as the sun floods in. I pull out my phone. I check Instagram. I scroll through beautiful lives of my single, childless friends. Look down to pajama pants and bare feet.
How about a book? I read her favorite, Brown Bear, Brown Bear, What do You See? I make distinct voices for each animal, because I care about showmanship. I pretend to be Maggie Smith when I do the duck voice.
Now baby is calm, but still far from sleep. I switch the television to Pandora and Fiona Apple’s Across the Universe plays. I sway, spin, and loop around the room with baby in my arms. Baby squeals with laughter when I lift her into the air as I sing, “Nothing’s gonna change my worlddd…” She smiles at me with big brown eyes and raises her own baby arms.
After a few songs, I put baby down on her baby mat. Finally, a bit more quiet time. What time is it? ONLY 11:30? Oh god, when is my husband getting home? Focus. Read, write. Solid 30 minutes. Catch baby rubbing eyes. Better pick her up before she gets overtired.
Look at me, I’m such an intuitive mom!
Place sleeping baby on bed. Sneak out to laptop. A glorious hour session of work while baby naps. Text from John: “Be home late today. (encouraging emojis)” Great. Baby wakes up. But! I receive a windfall: my sister visits and agrees to watch the baby. I quickly change into actual clothes and actual shoes. No time to do my hair I hope people think I intended to look messy. I pack my blush pink leather bag and head to a nearby cafe.
I feel incredibly indulgent. I order an iced latte. Dig through my bag for wallet and find a stray baby sock. Pay cash. Sit at a long table facing a big window. Look at me working at a cafe with an iced drink and no baby, I feel like a less glamourous, more sleepy Nicolette Mason. I could order a macaron and totally Instagram it. But I don’t. At the cafe I get three whole hours of work before heading back to find a sleeping baby. She wakes as I enter the room. It’s nice to get a break but I still miss her when I’m away.
Look at me being a mom.
What a long winded way to tell you I wore these pink chinos from ASOS curve that make me happy, random striped top, F21 necklace, ASOS sunglasses, and Cole Haan spectator pumps for my afternoon outside.
I wanted a love story. The sort of aching, vulnerable, reluctant-but-inevitable-submission-into love found in the pages of Jane Eyre or Pride and Prejudice. I thought love would be poetry and English fields, even though I’ve never even been to England nor did I marry Mr. Darcy.
The occasion of the day inspires me to put my feelings to ink. And I have so many of them. I lay awake at night and wonder: how many stories go untold? Why are we islands? I have so many stories to tell. Women and mothers—we have a story to tell.
So I got pregnant. And it was a big f—ing deal. Where’s the Walt Whitman, James Joyce, or Mark Twain of pregnancy?
I know, I know. Brilliant women all over the world become mothers and become so busy being mothers that there is hardly time to talk or write or make art about being mothers. And it makes me think there is a great chasm in our culture because of it. Our stories should be told. Then I realize that they are told. A mother will sing her song to her child.
What story did your mother tell you and in what tone? Was it mellifluous and honeyed, sour, reticent, or dreamy? Love is a story. The absence of love is a story. Children grow up to be the bearers of those stories, for better or worse.
I remember my high school English teacher told us you can only really write about something you know and right now I am so intimately aware of my experience as a mother that I cannot escape writing about it. If prompted, motherly musings just pour out of me.
First: I know I am not alone. I read stories about mothers crying in locked bathrooms or screaming in their cars, just to get through their day. I read even more stories about the quiet desperation of so many mothers. These women are everywhere and nowhere because these things are messy, don’t fit the ideal of motherhood, get labeled post-partum depression or something else that can be quickly dismissed as other. And even if that’s not exactly my story, it is one story and it’s a worthy story too.
Whence does a mother begin? The question reminds of the heap paradox from college. No single grain of sand makes a heap. A couple grains of sand do not equal a heap. But eventually you’re a heap. My mother told me you begin to be a mother during labor. I remember labor pains even though my doctor said I would forget them. Contractions felt like stabbing. Not like a bunch of little knives. Like one big knife pushing against my whole body. I was Sisyphus pushing a sharp rock, every 2 minutes. I disagree with my mother.
For me, motherhood did not begin at labor. It began the moment immediately after I pushed my baby into the world and she was placed on my chest, writhing and perfect, and looked at me for the first time, eyes like blue almonds. I looked back into those eyes and she was the big bang, a cosmic singularity, Plato’s unmoved mover. All that contained in one seven pound, ten-ounce baby girl. My life was destroyed and assembled back together again in an instant.
I remember my life before becoming a mother. It was pretty indulgent. There was a lot of good food, good sex, cynicism, money thrown around, and different states of momentary intoxication. Ah, and what may be the biggest indulgence of all: the freedom to not care. At least not more than about myself – and hey, maybe not even about myself sometimes. But that’s not life anymore. No one really talks about that to pregnant women. It’s not in the What to Expect book.
Since having a baby I feel like I am become halved and my baby is the other half. It’s this feeling that compels me to avoid drinking, drugs, frivolous purchases, and pushes me to obtain things like vitamins and life insurance. In a very real way my life is no longer my own. It’s hers too. And there’s the rub. That’s hard to accept as a woman who enjoys having an independent identity. Alas, the rabbit hole goes much deeper. Sometimes I do miss that part of my life, but going back to my former life would probably be the worst thing that could happen to me. Because there would be a baby-sized hole in that alternate future.
See, my life had meaning pre-baby. But Julia has added purpose to my life unlike anything else. Through her eyes I’m seeing the world for the first time again. She inspires me to become the person I want to be, makes me think I can still change the world. Life is harder and more wonderful than ever.
And she is poetry come alive. Sometimes she is Bukowski, spitting and growling, sometimes she’s as disarming as a Brontë passage, and sometimes she’s a little bit Neruda when I catch her smiling in her sleep and I can tell she’s dreaming. I wanted a love story and quite unexpectedly I find myself in the middle of one.
It’s been a long time since I mentioned body acceptance on my blog because I feel as though it’s implicit in everything I do here. Sometimes I think I’m blogging for three people—my sister, and my friends Gabi and Xtina. But then I check my stats and see that thousands visit each week and I think OMG who are you all?
I realize that each of you has your own distinct relationship with body image. So while some of us may be thinking “now, where can I find leather tap pants in my size?” others are still trying to wear horizontal stripes. My thoughts on body image are myriad, but my attitude can be distilled to “who cares!” Seriously, who cares if other people don’t think a certain size/shape shouldn’t wear stripes. It’s liberating to stop caring so much about what others want and to start paying attention to the things you want. So if you are a new to body acceptance or my blog, welcome.
I love this black and cream striped dress I bought this summer (it’s the dress I wore to my baby shower in August). But today I paired it with these nearly opaque black tights, which are I love because they’re so dark with just a hint of transparency. To finish it off, I added a bow belt, these cat eye sunglasses, Kenneth Jay Lane triangle earrings, YSL Rouge Volupte (12) lipstick, nude mani, and heels by Agent Provocateur. Something about autumn makes patent leather so, so good.
You guys know I’m all about blushy colors and I especially love the combination of pink, red, and purple. I recently found and fell in love with these lush corduroy legging jeans in “vamp red.” Can’t stop wearing them. I’m tempted by the other jewel tones, but these are my favorite. I finally got a chance to wear these gorgeous suede boots again. I wore this to lunch + shopping with my sister.
Rhinestone blouse: F21 plus, Shrunken boyfriend blazer: here and here, Corduroy jeans: here, Cat eye sunglasses: here, Boots: DuoBoots UK, Lip color: NARS Damned, here, Bag: Kate Spade
It’s been a month since I had my baby and life has changed so much! Lately our days (and nights) have been all about baby. I had the chance to go out with my husband yesterday evening so I dressed up in this bodycon skirt and contrast blouse. I wanted something pretty and feminine and something that was definitely not maternity wear.
I’m so excited for Fall weather, Fall fashion, and the fact that I no longer have to accommodate a baby bump in my clothes. Here’s to more outfit blogging. xx
Here are some pictures from my baby’s nursery. I still want to add a few more things but we have all the essentials. Just waiting for baby’s arrival now!
Crib by Stokke. I love the round corners. Check out the sleep sheep inside, she emits soothing sounds to help baby sleep.
A glider chair is essential for those long nights. I added this pink Moroccan pouf for a little color and also for usefulness, when paired with the chair it’s comfortable enough for a nap.
This quilt was lovingly made by baby’s grandmother—so many adorable details! Bee quilt clips from etsy shop Little Elephant, which has lots of cute baby decor.
Beautiful mobile by one of my favorite baby brands Kushies Zolo, which we received as a baby shower gift. I learned young babies react to high contrast colors, so I love Kushies because their baby items aid development while adding whimsy to baby’s room.
Everyone tells me babies love to swing.
I’m trying to be as natural a mom as I can be, so I have some great products by Earth Mama and California Baby. Also love the Osocozy cloth diapers (though I still need lots more in terms of cloth diapering!) and Broody Chick 100% natural disposable diapers.
A few items I really love, including this footed onesie (bees!), ComoTomo baby bottles, Counting Kisses baby book, and Halloween socks by Carters.
That’s all! Looks like baby should be here within the week, we are so excited. And can’t wait for my first post-baby outfit post. xx
"Salutations! It’s my fancy way of saying hello." — I have always remembered this line from the classic book Charlotte’s Web by E.B. White, which may have also been my introduction to the concept of conveying one thing in two different ways. Like the spider Charlotte, British designer Charlotte Olympia conveys a message in her own markedly fancy way. Her signature is a tiny web, emblazoned on the soles of her designs. Olympia’s shoes are feminine, coquettish, and hint at the designer’s wit. Some shoes look like cats, another like a piano, one like a fruit bowl. The brilliance of Charlotte Olympia is that the whimsy of her ideas does not compromise the elegance of her shoes. And that is really, really special.
If you follow me on instagram (@pinklip) you may remember I posted these gorgeous Olympias—
I was all smiles when I opened my email to learn that Ms. Olympia was releasing a tiny limited edition collection inspired by the book Charlotte’s Web. It includes a pair of heels and a clutch depicting moments from the story and the famous cover illustration. Talk about melding of fashion and fiction.
I remember my first time reading the story of a young girl named Fern and the runtling pig Wilbur whom she saved from death. The story is simple but so beautifully written and illustrated, it remains in my mind one of best stories about love and friendship. I wanted to share some of my favorites—in an age in which digital animation dazzles us with its complexity, I find these simple two-dimensional drawings mesmerizing. Just look at the way baby Wilbur gazes at Fern.
Here too are the images released by Charlotte Olympia, the collex is available for purchase at the London and New York boutiques. The clutch has my stolen my heart!
Photo via, Illustrations: Garth Williams, Charlotte Olympia
Dear readers, Would love to hear your thoughts on whether you enjoy non-outfit posts like this! Or just reminisce with me about Fern and Wilbur, or you know, shoes. xx
Sheer shirts were everywhere this summer and I wondered how I would wear them into early Fall. Today I wore this sheer top with a lace bralette and blazer. Paired this with jeans and these Manolo Blahnik gold slippers. These flats are so pretty, I don’t miss my heels. And they’re comfortable, which I need since I’m super pregnant and could go into labor any day now.
Pregnancy has been an interesting experience in the relationship I have with my body. I started this blog under a fatshion/body-positive banner—challenging how different bodies are perceived, all while sharing my love of fashion. But pregnancy has not been about how my body looks, but what my body is doing. And it has been growing a tiny human, which is pretty amazing. During this time I’ve felt almost exempt from the traditional gaze that judges women based on size.
Bodies are so much more than inches and pounds, more than how you look in a dress. We, through our bodies, can do some really wondrous things and that’s worth remembering whenever you feel too caught up in how your body looks.
I have not written much about my pregnancy on my blog, because the experience is so private, and yet dichotomously so universal. I’m in my last month and even though I cannot wait to hold my baby in my arms, I’m a little sad that my pregnancy is ending.
As long as I’ve lived, I have known my mother loves me. Unlike other relationships, I am unable to pinpoint when that love started. And I never really thought about it until my pregnancy. But now, I once again have a forever-kind-of-love, except this time I know where it began. I feel as though I’ve stood at the edge of a newly formed ocean that is expanding and expanding. Almost overwhelming.
This past weekend, my sister gave me the most adorable baby shower. And yes, it’s a GIRL! We are beyond happy at the prospect of welcoming a daughter.
p.s. We had our beautiful baby shower invitations made by an independent designer, you can find her etsy shop here. I was very happy with her work and highly recommend her.
After accomplishing a major goal last month, I purchased these blush satin Valentino heels as a gift to myself. I am in love, just look at those bows! Worn with another favorite: these pale pink pants from Dorothy Perkins. I think blush tones look so sweet against brown. Such an underrated color. Love this milky brown blouse dotted with sparkly rhinestones that I found at Forever21 Plus.
p.s. I’m so happy to be approaching the last weeks of my pregnancy, almost full term! Look out for my next post, which I’m dedicating to all things baby.
For an evening out this weekend, I pulled two favorites I haven’t worn in a long time—this mesh bodysuit and tulle skirt. To finish the look I chose simple upswept hair, pearl drop earrings, and my black Louboutins. I slipped a sparkly bracelet on my ankle, inspired by ever perfect blogger Karla.
Bodysuit and Skirt: ASOS, Earrings: Tiffany, Shoes: Louboutin, Lipstick: MAC Red Flame
I’ve wanted a room of my own since I read Virginia Woolf’s words, “a woman must have money and a room of her own if she is to write.” I cannot agree more. I didn’t have a room of my own until now—my own office. Anyone who lives with another person knows you often compromise on how a space looks and feels. But this room is all mine. I’m thrilled! Here is some of my inspiration.
Approaching the decor for the room, I’m thinking about the textures and colors I love, the places I’ve been, as well as pieces I think reflect my personality.
Loving traditional chairs upholstered in vibrant hues, vintage pillows, quatrefoil mirrors, this Rene Magritte print that makes me think of identity and perspective, lush orchids, the dreamy painted textiles of this Matisse print, a mirrored desk, a brass elephant because my mother always had elephant figures in her home, furniture with undulating lines, a pretty pouf, a dressed up lamp, and silk weave rugs. All the makings of a room that is beautiful, elegant, and indulgent.
I’ve found lots of beauties at GiltHome and my newest favorite, One Kings Lane.
I finally found a pair of satin pants. There’s something very 1940s about satin that I love. Makes me think of boudoirs and stylish female characters à la film noir. Decided to play with sheen and sparkle by adding this amazing Vivienne Westwood glitter top and a pill box hat covered in thousands of tiny glass bugle beads. Pink lips, pink nails, and white shades just for fun.
In warm weather, an oversized blouse in a light fabric is essential. The neckline of this blouse stretches quite a bit, so I pulled it down to wear around my shoulders—which I think makes it much more romantic and pretty. I love unusual prints, so this palm and flamingo print is perfect. Wore this casual outfit to grab a sandwich at one my favorite delis, Porta Via.
I can’t believe I’m almost 6 months pregnant. In June we’re moving to a really cute house with room for a nursery, an office for myself, and a garden. I can’t wait.
Wore this pink and gold outfit to go on a date. One of the most important things I’ve learned about romance and long-term relationships is to go on dates (with each other)! He took me to an italian restaurant and years later it feels like our first dates, except so much better.
Do you think your personal style is influenced by significant moments in your life? Right now I’m so deep in love, I feel it’s peeking through my sartorial choices.
Top: Talbots via Marshalls, Pants: Dorothy Perkins, Shoes: Miu Miu
Wore this around town to grab lunch and an ice cream cone. Enjoyed the sunny day (after lots of rain) in this multicolored skirt and blouson style top. Pinks look so lovely against apricot, this is one of my favorite color combinations. My search for the perfect pair of espadrilles ended once I found these wedge sandals by Brian Atwood. Hope everyone had a great weekend! xx
Top: ASOS, Skirt: Forever21+, Bag: Kate Spade, Glasses: Jimmy Choo, Shoes: Brian Atwood, Necklace: Anthro
We’re very happy to finally share our good news. I’m having a baby! I’ve wanted to blog about this sooner but I wanted to wait for the right time. I’m almost 20 weeks pregnant and due in the Fall. My baby bump is small but growing. We can’t wait to welcome baby into our lives. This is a completely new experience for me, and I’m happy to blog about it along the way.
Jacket: Anna Scholz, Bardot Top: Asos, Pants: R. Lauren, Shoes: Manolo Blahnik, Bag: Halston
I picked up this hand painted silk jacket from Anna Scholz—so so good. With Spring fashion in mind, I wore these fuchsia silk pants to keep things bright. I’m a fan of wearing more than one print at a time and thought the leopard print was offset beautifully by the tiger print on these stingray wedges, which are my favorite shoe at the moment. xx
I have thoughts about shoes. It’s kinda funny to admit and while not the only thing I think about, those shoe-thoughts are there pretty often. Today I was thinking about a shoemaker I’ve been following for years, Fluevog Shoes. I don’t know what it is about these shoes, I’ve never purchased a pair. Sometimes I wonder whether I even like them.
I find some styles… questionable. I’ve described them as shoes I would wear if I were a cartoon. Ultimately, I think that’s their charm: they have a caricature-like quality of what shoes are, at least through the eyes of Fluevog. Exaggerated curving heels, playful shapes, buckles, fringe, bright colors—and that might just describe one shoe.
Once my curiosity led me to one of their shops in San Francisco (one of the few that exist) and I remember being welcomed by the smell of leather and an array of colors. And variety: a sculptural baroque style shoe sits next to a floral print 70s-reminiscent clog, which sits next to a a pair of traditional brogues with neon laces. But again, I left empty handed. Maybe these are shoes that I just admire in theory. Or maybe I just haven’t found the pair for me. Are you a Fluevog fan? Let me know what you think.
Bonus: take a peek at this video showing the process of crafting just one pair.