The Sartorialist

My Style currently falls into

a. wouldn’t wear it even if all my clothes were burnt to a crisp 

b. I DIE, I DIE (a la Rachel Zoe). I must have it, NOW! Otherwise I will positively perish from fashion suicide!

I’m not one for devoting page after page to notions of style; its tedious and not to mention stupidly pretentious. I have had it up to here with regurgitated wisdoms about style. And while I’m on the subject, can I just say once, forever and always, ALWAYS that this blog- title and contents has nada to do with Coco. I think about Ms Chanel as often as I do Yemen; yes that would be the country, Yemen.

Style is personal, like a second skin and its as simple as that. Some days I want nothing but loose t-shirts(cut properly damn it), oversized long sleeves and nice and saggy jeans. But when the sun shines out of my positively spotless eternal mind, I dream only of wearing mustard yellows, caramel browns, darker than dark reds and any other spotlights I can get my consumerist hands on.

Come Spring, you bet your bottom dollar that I’ll be hiding behind life sized floppies, monotone trenches, and slashed jeans so help me Shiva! And I might as well throw in some of those nude bandaged heels too. If you’re going to do something, you might as well do it right, right? What’s not to love about this chic little game of hide and seek? God knows I love to hide behind layers of fabric; I do wonder what my analyst will have to say about that?