sophia loren...

... like, 1973.
minus sunglasses.
just a typical summer monday.

hitler youth

dear, sweet honey bear of love.

why?

dominicana?

suntans.
beach chairs.
piña coladas.
swimming.
snorkeling.
michael jackson impersonators.
massages.
sunburns.
subsequent avoidance of massages.
incessant cruising by dominican men.

intestinal parasites.

and of course lots of caftans, giant sunglasses, and this.
the top is mine. the bottom, hers.

together: pure taylor-née

gaycation!

like the phoenix

wow. it's been a while.

lots happened. holidays. snow days. being swamped with work. relationship nesting. general winter nesting. more of the swamping with work. i guess it's understandable that this little blog got lost along the way.

but no more, for spring has sprung!! and with it, FASHION WEEK!!! and with that, nothing short of sheer mania on the part of the girlfriend.

she has good reason to be a total nutjob, i guess. she was invited to a lot of shows, both independently and through some sites she writes for (<--- see how i did that with the hanging preposition? it's because i'm not a writer. and i'm ok with that). i'm actually meant to accompany her to one tonight, which should be hilarious as a) she was kind enough to share with me a disgusting flu-like illness which continues to wreak havoc on both of us, and b) i refuse to wear anything but jeans, sneakers and a grandpa sweater. like, daily. even at work.

anyway, part of the nuttiness comes from what sounds like a LOT of pomp, circumstance, and dogshow/junior-high-esque judging that happens as audience members try to out-style each other in the tents. which is why, perhaps, it took her 2 hours to pick an outfit this morning.

i really don't know why she stresses. i mean, this is girl who has a knack for creating an outfit, be it by turning an oversized thrift store shirt turned backwards and adding a shit-ton of necklaces...

... or with an improvised indoor scarf-turban that was probably for my eyes only (sorry, boo)...

ahem. point being, she can pull the shit together. albeit after trying on literally EVERY piece of clothing she owns. the major dilemma this morning was shoes. i would like to point out that she clomped around on these 2 (different) heels for at least an hour while futzing with every other part of her outfit:

i didn't have time to take quality pics, as she was rushing out the door, but you should know that under that giant old lady coat is a really awesome leather jacket, a white tank and a purple... um... thing.

oh... and a fur dickie.

fashion week, bitches.

the halloween episode

i guess i've always had mixed feelings about halloween. on the one hand, i appreciate its importance as a really rare opportunity to be creative and fanciful and whimsical and other adjectives without people thinking (realizing?) that you're a complete faggy weirdo. on the other, you spend your whole night competing for cabs with droves of stumbling, loud assholes vomiting all over their brand new "slutty nun" costumes from ricky's. this halloween was no exception to that latter, sacred tradition. but let us focus on the former for a moment.

bryn takes halloween very seriously. i'd say it's like her christmas, but she actually celebrates christmas. her yom kippur? a little *too* serious. anyway, the point is that the girl basically lives to dress people, so a holiday devoted entirely to creating and then wearing an outfit is right up her alley.

her original idea was to get a bunch of us to dress as characters from "clue". but for some reason, not many people were really biting. what happened next is sort of myth and legend at this point, but as i remember it, my roommate drae and i start talking about how clue's just a cheap rip-off of murder by death anyway, because no matter how much we love tim curry, he's no truman fucking capote... and thus a new halloween idea was born! bryn insisted we be tru cap and his gaggle of 50's nyc socialites. original. creative. infinitely faggy.

friends, let me tell you, when bryn does a costume, old girl does a costume. weeks, literally weeks, were spent crouched in library stacks researching old photos, raiding vintage stores, and assembling primary AND backup outfits for everyone in the group. it was all consuming. and the end result was, i must say, pretty spot-on.

behold, the inspiration photos of babe paley and truman capote:






and now, bryn's version. please ignore oron's shoes. and alexis is meant to be harper lee, who does, in case you're wondering, look pretty much like that:





long explanation, but so worth it for this photo. girl done it up *riiiiiight*.

weekend thrifting

i find vintage fascinating.

so many items that were once fixtures in other people's lives come to find themselves abandoned in some jumble pile at the Goodwill. how did they end up there? who owned them? it's fun to imagine all the backstories.

for example, i'd guess the AARP member who owned this previously was a fabulous, eccentric UES divorcée with gads of money who ran a marsupial rescue organization, as such a coat could clearly only be used as a gestational surrogate for abandoned baby kangaroos.

be careful reaching into that pocket...

intro

hello.

simply, this is a blog dedicated to my fashionista girlfriend bryn, a brilliant, eclectic dresser who lists dorothy spornak as her main style icon.

let us start with last night's outfit. we went to see my brother's band Hey Champ play at crash mansion.

picture, dear friends, this basement rock show. loud music. sweaty dancing. pbr.

and now picture my date for this evening, dressed (quite intentionally) as a flying squirrel.

or rather, allow me to picture it for you: