Oh Pendleton...

(images via Frances May)

...I'll always be stuck on you. You got the whole plaid thing going, which I'll never give up. Then you got the whole amazing native american wool blanket thing going on, which keeps me warm at night. And then you do this, the Portland Collection, which sends my heart into a whole new level of tizzy. Nope, ain't never gonna quit you.

Riffing on a theme

Sources: Lady Moriarty//Vanessa Jackman

Cool girls wear short sweaters and jeans.

Opening Ceremony. Rodarte. 'Nuff said.

Tapestry prints. Intarsia. Beige. Hawaiian Florals. Rodarte x Opening Ceremony. Mulleavy quirkiness. A 50s Western mashup, sorta, kinda. Basically I like it. A lot. At least enough to post it. Which is saying a lot around this tumbleweed blog, eh? See so much more here.

...Also, the lookbook reminds me of a popsicle melting in the sun, and on grey grey days, that's a nice thought.

They Say It Better

Happy Christmas y'all.

hey baby, what's your sign?

Brilliant editorial in the December UK Vogue. I've taken quite a fancy to the Cancer shot. Why do I feel the urge to print and tack things on my wall lately?

But I'm not a crab, I'm a Taurus: Practical, reliable, patient, persistent, solid, determined, industrious, strong willed, sensuous, affectionate, warm-hearted, trustworthy. Or so the internet tells me. Definitely stubborn. Yes, definitely.

(Find the fashion interpretation of your star sign, i.e. the rest of the editorial here)

Almost reality

Enough of outfit ideals, this is my outfit reality. A rotation of two, maybe three, giant knit sweaters. Minus the nonchalant model of course.

A tear from one of the more appealing editorials I've seen in a while. Low-key and natural, much more my scene. Cinnamon Girl, Dossier Issue 6 FW 10.

Warmth

I was actually hugging the radiator yesterday I was so cold. Yes, I was that cold and my radiator is that weak. When the temperature really drops, dressing becomes all about throwing on whatever is around, piling it on into a somewhat hodgepodge mix of layers, sweaters over sweaters, socks over tights, warmth becoming my singular priority. Once sufficiently wrapped, I don't even dream of venturing outside, rather ideally, I would then stay in playing cards and drinking hot chocolate with whipped cream. Lots of whipped cream. It'd be nice if I had all these pieces of sartorial wonder to pile on.

It'd be even nicer if my radiator worked.