It would combine my great love of frolicking in any nearby body of water and my love of all things skeleton-y into one double-take-inducing thing! And though I do fret a bit about the unlined aspect leading to a condition that I defined as "skeletonaked".
Chambray shirt, J. Crew; chambray skirt, Ann Taylor; tights, dunno; boots, Zappos outlet house brand.
Ok, yes, the sour face I am making is doing me no favors, but aside from that: this outfit does not work.
I have, after all, a giant full-length mirror in my living room where I should stop and do a "do I look decent?" check before leaving the house each morning. Did I do this here? No, I did not. Because this outfit just does not work.
Why doesn't it work? For starters, the heels are not high enough. (They never are.)
Also, the red tights make this look, to me, as if I am dressed in some awful interpretation of Nebraska: the double-chambray (a Midwestern tuxedo effect?), the red, the brown... I can't quite explain it, but it's just unflattering.
And why did I wear a black shiny watch with this, huh? (Habit, obviously. And I love that watch, but not with this.)
I wore this at work all day and was so displeased that I needed to remedy it and purge it from my system this evening. The improved version:
What's better here? Well, first off, more leg. When the silhouette of the shirt + skirt is straight up and down (especially since I have zero natural waist, for real), and the double-denim thing could too easily go casual, leg helps. The high-high heels are aces for this. (It's a trope because it works, people.)
Also, jewelry. No to the black shiny men's watch, yes to the pendant: it's a little thing, really, but to have something interesting happening atop the chambray-on-chambray goes a long way.
Note to self: look in the mirror before you leave the house, seriously. Or else the full-length mirror at work in the unflatteringly-florescent-lit bathroom will surprise you in terrible ways.
I like it when achieving goals tastes fucking delicious.
Thirty Before Thirty is underway (countdown: six months to go!), and let's face it, I'm quite unlikely to get to France or Hong Kong in the next six months.
But! "Attend one of those 'secret' dinner parties" was not only easily achievable, it was absolutely aces. I was too interested in devouring everything immediately to take many photos, but these are passable.
This lamb course, oh my god. The upside of dining with several medical-research types who run experiments on animal brains is that they might make a slightly squicked-out face and invite you to take the sweetbreads from their bowl and add them to your own. Yum. (Lamb shoulder, pickled lamb tongue- which had the strongest lamby flavor and was my favorite-, and lamb sweetbreads.)
The sauce poised over the bowl was delicious but lip-searingly hot, creating the "I want to drink this with a straw" vs. "my entire face is on fire" dilemma.
My favorite of the dishes, the avgolemono with chicken, chilis, and peanuts, was not photographed. Probably because I had my head down in the bowl like it was a trough.
Thank god for Kentucky-transplant friends who live down the block and host a Derby party each year; also thank god Animal Kingdom won, because that means I got to collect $19 in winnings yesterday, and that $19 paid for my cover charge and cab home from the bar last night.
God I love a themed hat.
Dress, Target; hat, homemade; shoes, Marc Jacobs.
I bought these shoes in Kentucky, appropriately enough. I got them in 2008 and have not worn them ever until this year's Derby. (It was always too cold for peep-toes, or too rainy, or the yellow corduroys I wanted to wear them with were dirty, or any manner of other impediments to their wear.)
For never being worn before, they held up admirably through a Derby party, a play, and hours of dancing at the Windy City Soul Club last night.
Finally, benedictine. I don't understand it, but it involves cream cheese, so I will eat it. The South alternately baffles and intrigues me.
This ensemble started out as Mia Wallace by way of Rizzo. But then reality, as it does, got in the way.
Button-up, J Crew; velvet skinnies, Uniqlo; heels, Seychelles; bracelet, Until There's A Cure.
1) I am still utterly unable to find a white button-up shirt that I do not hate. Can someone please, please make a nice mid-weight, opaque (none of this flesh-toned camisole necessary shit, oh my lord) non-button-down-collar, non-stretchy button-up shirt? Because I will buy it, I promise.
2) the cropped skinny black pants I wanted to wear were mysteriously covered in bike grease and cat hair. Ok, it's not really a mystery, but it was still frustrating, despite being entirely my fault.
3) whatever, a leather jacket fixes it all.
4) also, a flask. That's important.
In the interest of professionalism, do note that the flask was only added to the ensemble after I came home from work and headed off to see the Ted Leo concert. Yes, it's Cinco de Mayo, but I am not (yet) bringing booze to work.