Rustic Romp or Urban Rumble?

The New York Moment is fabled, of course.  But what about the New York Juxtaposition?

Yesterday, departing American Girl with my daughters in the pouring rain, we began to pick our way through the wet and the dark (at 3:00!) up 48th Street toward 8th Ave.  As we passed a parking garage, a loud fight broke out, first of words, then of fists.

We shifted into reverse, me averting my eyes, until we saw a police officer sauntering toward the garage.  When we heard no further commotion, we carried on, eventually reaching our destination.

Some hours before the rumble, when the day was light, we had walked past an Anthropologie store, where a curious candelabra in the vitrine caught my eye.

"Fabled" this moment may have been, if only because the candelabra depicted a few Aseop's Fable-y animals piling on top of each other for what Anthropologie calls a "rustic romp."

We kept moving forward, my daughters ignoring the pottery animals, but the unusual design stayed with me enough to look it up on line.

In this New York Juxtaposition, I'll take the Rustic Romp over the Urban Rumble, though I don't think I'd welcome such a frolic on my dinner table when our stomachs are, you know, rumbling.

Plaid to Know You

Maybe it's in anticipation of "Auld Lang Syne," composed by Scotsman Robert Burns, but I've been checking out some plaid.

Today I tried on these cropped trousers at J Crew (had to make a pilgrimage to bricks-and-mortar to sort out my sizing) and have been happily imagining them with

a black turtleneck
(the obvious choice)

a faded jean shirt and gold loafers
(what I'd call a J Crew mix)

a breton shirt in black/cream or papaya/cream (like James Dean wore) topped with a black cardigan
(from my "mad, plaid, and dangerous-to-know" imagination)

J (in) Crew-dulous

Well, that *is* an overwrought pun above.

But it does represent my ongoing confusion over J Crew sizes. 

This week I brought a couple of J Crew pencil skirts (that I had purchased about three years ago) to the tailor to be taken in.  I also ordered some new pencil skirts in what I thought was an appropriate, smaller size.

I was surprised, however, when the new, *smaller* skirts were about the same size as the ones I just schlepped to the tailor.  Has vanity sizing taken another drop lately?

J Crew, I'm incredulous.

DSquared2 Does a Figure 8

There is no snow on the east coast.  If I'd waited till noon to go running today, I think I could even have worn shorts (if I'd increased my pace a bit).

But I really don't want to tie my running shoes this week; I'd much rather lace a pair of skates for an outdoor glide.

Fellow Canadians Dan and Dean Caten of DSquared2 may have come to the rescue with their curious skating shoes (one boot is amusingly called Skate Moss):

Yet these rubber-soled faux skates are to me the shoe equivalent of Wii sports: they invoke the activity, but noone's going to qualify for the Olympics by wearing them.

Still, this Canadian appreciates the sartorial attempt at a quadruple Axel as Dan and Dean Caten go Skaten. 

Merry Christmas!

Blue Roses

The lush jewelry in this Prada resort ad reminds me of the "blue roses" from Tennessee Williams' Glass Menagerie. 

But there's no need for a gentleman caller here, we're perfectly happy with our own, feminine collar, spread to perfection.

Appealing Shoes

It's the oldest joke in the book,

but if I slipped on that Andy Warhol banana,

the white brogues couldn't have any more a-peel that they already do.

Alas, this brogue is for the gents, by Christian Louboutin. 

Although the editorial directs gentle readers to CL's website,

the shoes weren't up the last five times I checked.

Treading Lightly?

This weekend I dressed to take my daughter to a college basketball game (we like to support the womenz team!) and I noticed a gap in my wardrobe.

I'd put on a pair of cropped black cigarette pants and wasn't thrilled with my footwear choices: I like to balance a skinny pant leg silhouette with a substantial shoe and the one I had in mind was more weekday than weekend.

So I hopped on Gravity Pope's website, because it specializes in a kind of funky, weekend-y shoe, and engaged in research.

The first pair I considered was, much to my surprise, a clog in wolf's clothing: 

Or yak's clothing, or a Wild Thing's clothing, if I get all self-referential.  I'm not a clogger; wooden soles don't strike me as comfortable (never wore a pair of wooden-sole DKNY penny loafers I had in grad school), but there's something unaesthetically appealing about this motley shoe.  It's by Bosabo.

The second pair was equally curious, but again, that's what I wanted:

Made by Acne, this tall brogue has enough interest in the heel to keep me amused and enough tradition in the toe to complement my cigs. 

After all, my goal is not to tread lightly. Do gentle readers have any trusted clomp-about weekend shoes they love?


***BTW: the New Yorker cover above is from 1944!  So current, except the cigarette would probably be represented as cigarette pants today . . .

Whole-Cloth Quilting

The front

(Nani Iro for Kokka)

I'll be quilting around each flower.

The back

(Kaffe Fassett shot cotton in "Apricot")

An imperfect match, just the way I like it.

The binding

(Liberty of London "Tatum")

A quarter inch, all around.

Lemon Dressing

Back in the early-to-mid 1990s, Cynthia Rowley made some dresses from a delightful lemon print. 

I have one of them--a short shirtdress--tucked away in my closet, for as many years, and I think it will reemerge this summer.

When I think of Rowley, I therefore always think of lemons, so it was apt that the dress I admired in the recent Anthropologie catalogue turned out to be a "Citris" dress by Ms. Rowley herself.

This could be worn rightnow, and I would do so happily.

If I were staying within the Anthropological confines, I'd pair it with these curious boots,

and would dive into my jewel box for a brooch that looks like this one,

to pin on the waistband.

Not Rowley, but reminiscient in spirit.

Colour Wheel

This necklace by Monique Pean reminds me of

crushed pastels,

or mini globes,

with a postmodern ice age looming in some corners,

like a dollop of frosting.

Wild Things: Boots, Scarves, Sweaters

Yesterday my six-year-old son and I were both home with the flu. 

We watched a lot of European soccer, a little American basketball, and Spike Jonze's Where the Wild Things Are. 

I adored the color palette in the film, with the softest beiges, greys, and linens against the Australian beach.

If I were to join the Wild Things gang, I'd wear these Louboutin boots.

I'd pair them with one or more of these textured scarves from Barneys,

But at a cost of $550 for this one, below,

perhaps I should just buy my own yak and trot her around.

My son, if he'd like to join us, could wear one of these sweaters, also from Barneys:

Fortunately, we have moved away from purple Barneys and on to heathery, feathery, cable-knit inspired Wild Thing monsters.

A Miss C. Blunder chez C. Wonder

I was intrigued when I first saw the ads for C. Wonder in the New York Times. 



They reminded me a bit of ads for ABC Carpet and Home, possibly the most glorious home furnshings and fabric store across the pond from Liberty of London.



The initial "C" was initially encouraging, too, as I was in my ABC zone.





Now we're talking: ABC Carpet and Home

 
But then things started to turn: "C. Wonder" started to conjure up a knock-off of J Crew, which was, I think, itself a knock-off of J Press.

Next I saw the motor scooter, adorned with roses, kind of Liberty print meets Jack Wills. I was confused.

The scooter in Vogue

And then I learned that it was owned by Tinsley Mortimer's ex-husband.

Actually, it's not, and that is the "blunder" of my headline; it's owned by Tory Burch's ex-husband.

Ths shop itself, or shops, as they have popped up in affluent mall settings, seem to position themselves as an Anthropologie for preppies. From images I've seen (plan to visit a bricks-and-mortar shop over Christmas), there's a lot of shiny gold and orange among the products, perhaps an homage to Ms. Burch, and green. green, green on the walls and floors, perhaps to make one feel wealthy and youthful whilst shopping. 

Kind of Gatsby-esque, but lower rent than West Egg.

Would Jay Gatsby gaze upon the green door longingly from his dock?

I'm not sure whether C. Wonder has a truly specific point of view, and would be happy to hear from gentle readers who have visited it.  In any case, I'll report back in the new year. 

S'Wonderful to think about going on vacation.

Joe Fresh: Intarsia Insider?

I confess: some mornings when I wake at 6, put on my running clothes in a hurry before going downstairs to get my three children off to school, I just might be wearing some of my garments inside out.  And when I return from my run and realize my style slip, I have a good laugh at myself.

Joe Fresh, the clothing line for the Canadian grocery store Loblaws, has recently taken this inside-out dressing to the check-out counter with its collection of Nordic sweaters. 

The above three sweaters on the right are knit in what I'd call a traditional style, but the two on the left (and the red-and-white one displays this characteristic more clearly) look to me like the inside of the sweaters on the right.

(As a reference point, I'm thinking of the inside of my own intarsia black sheep sweater a la Princess Diana.) Brilliant knitter-readers are cordially invited to tell me the proper terminology for this inside-out stitch/look.

Imagine the inside of this sweater.

Joe Fresh's sweaters are a tad too "holiday festive" for this Canadian, but it I were to wear the red one on the left, I might try it inside out.  On purpose.