Falling for Fall Fashion

While Lou gets herself settled in her new abode, I offered to step in with a guest post, gushing over my new favorite Fall Collection. Always primed for inspiration, Lou quickly proposed that she find her own Wow Collection as an example of one of our favorite topics: how two very close sisters (who look very much alike) can have two completely different approaches to Style. Today you get to see what I’m fawning over, and Lou will post her swoon-inducing collection as soon as she gets the internet hooked up in her new apartment. (Which might be never at the pace I’m going -Lou).

Consider this a counter piece to my How to Dress Like a Lady on a Budget piece. This is more of a How to Dress Like a Lady if You’re Obscenely Wealthy post. Because money can buy you fashion, but it cannot buy you style. If you don’t believe me, well there’s this:

I apologize for that. Please take a moment to wash out your eyeballs.

Now on with the coveting. Over lunch the other day I was innocently flipping through the most recent issue of Vanity Fair, when this ad punched me in the face with fashion love:

(That dog looks so weird to me and I’m not even drunk. He looks really confused … sort of how I feel about this collection, but hey, not my obsession. Carry on. -Lou)

It’s plaid-tweed-menswear-1920’s heaven. Subtle, polished, Gatsby. What’s not to love? (Rhetorical? Errrr … cause, I could name a few things probably if .. no? Ok) As I explored the collection further, Lou encouraged me to embrace my outer Prep. Which is fair, because just the other day I stepped out in some plaid Tommy Hilfiger kicks and confessed to my husband, “I love these shoes, and they are just so undeniably Preppy.” As is this outfit:

Which I would be wearing right this instant, if I were wealthy and it wasn’t 90 degrees outside. And for my Very Important Meetings with Very Important People (all wealthy people have those, right?) (Wealthy people have other people go to their meetings for them. Rich people go to their own meetings. You’d be rich) I’d toss on this effortless bit of class:

The details here are Killing me. The shoes! The pocket chain! The splash of color in that beautiful shirt! This would be me, channeling my husband. He genuinely dresses that sleek and sexy on a regular basis. Case in point:

That’s him on the left. Seriously. Even among all those well-dressed men, he’s the snazziest. In my humble opinion. So that lady-suit is essentially the gal version of what he wears to work. Delicious.

Moving on, as this collection is for me and not Johnny, here’s the ladyiest of the lady outfits that I’m pining for:


It’s perfection. And now I am determined to artfully accent my grays with pops of fuchsia. Can I call that fuchsia? Or is Anna Wintour’s head – somewhere in the world, at this very moment – pulling an Exorcist because it’s actually puce?  Either way, that outfit should be mine because it’s named after my mother.

Now if I were ever wealthy it would only be as a result of my creative prowess. I am not an entrepreneur, but I can create like a motherfucker. So if I were wealthy I would most definitely end up on a red carpet somewhere. And on that red carpet I would wear this:


I am a sucker for backless.

This perfect-amount-of-sparkle dress might be a little witchy on the bottom when still, but in motion it looks like she’s kicking up little wings around her calves. And I could Eat those shoes. Deco fabulous. And also, oddly, named after my mother with an extra E. The universe wants me and these outfits to be together.

Speaking of deco, I’ve also picked out an outfit for Rachel McAdams. Lou and I recently discovered that she actually needs a little red carpet help (which we tend to overlook in the moment, because she is So Damn Pretty), and I’ve determined that this should be her next fancy-dress ensemble:

You can see it, non? (yeah!) (Wealthy people also use random French words to add to their allure)

As my final nod to Fall Wealthy Lady Fashion, we say au revoir to Ralph and swoop over to Kate. My first and truest Wealthy Ladylike Love. Now I am 100% serious when I say that if I had $700 lying around with nothing better to do, I would buy this coat:

If you’ve won the lottery or have a trust fund, my birthday is next week and you should feel free to buy me this entire outfit.
I can hear Lou now. “Are you fucking kidding me?? $700??? For a coat?? That is absurd. No one item of clothing should cost $700.”

But I love this perfect, timeless trench so much that it makes my eyes hurt. And I believe in investment pieces. As in, I would literally wear it for the rest of my life. Why own the same Burberry trench coat as everyone else in the Hamptons when you could have that kicky little skirt and that adorable printed lining?? You know what that lining is, don’t you? French words. The cherry on top of your ladylike, wealthy, élégant self.

Lou will be chiming in soon with her own favorites for fall, and it’s a safe bet that they’ll be a far cry from my fantasies of Oxford, polo matches, and apple cider brandy. Stay tuned!

Music Festival or Asshole Parade?

I don’t think I actually care that people completely change their fashion for three days of music in the California desert, but I do think it’s pretty ridiculous how many celebrities and “celebrities” go to Coachella every year just to see and be seen all while looking like they’re going to the hippie equivalent of a Renaissance Fair.

It’s just that, I read a lot of gossip blogs and I certainly don’t see the extent of celebrity fashion parading around Bonnaroo, Lolapalooza, or the lesser known Sasquatch in our very own PNW. If everyone wants to dress up like a slutty Woodstock flashback at Coachella, why don’t I have the pleasure of seeing the same ding dongs putting on flannels and grungy Doc Martins for Lolapalooa?

I’m guessing it has something to do with the fact that this particular festival is held in California, celebrity mecca, but still, every year around this time I chuckle to myself when I see things like this:

Vanessa Hudgens. Repeat Offender. Or how about this monstrosity:

Or Jesus Effing Christ, THIS. The ultimate hot mess of all hot messes…who just reminded me I need to write the post regarding my extreme dislike of these hideous Jeffery Campbell shoes:

It’s my humble opinion, but I even think Victoria Secret supermodels look pretty stupid exhibiting this much “Try.

Great legs though, Jesus:

I know we can’t all be natural fashion chameleons like Kate Moss, shown here at Glastonberry like she owns that shit. And I know..she fucks rock stars and sings and overall can do no fashion wrong, but still, it looks pretty natural for someone of her caliber to go from her regular clothing repertoire to straight up festival garb…unlike those idiots above who just look like they’re at an idiot parade.

I just think it would do us all some good, especially in Portland where costume is practically encouraged, and especially in summer when people do ridiculous things with their wardrobes, to remember how stupid you can look when you’re trying too hard. Coachella just happens to be my favorite example.

And while I was going to write about the threat to the integrity of the musicians when confronted with a cesspool of washed up starlets looking like a bad acid flashback, I realized I’d rather not get too serious. I’ll leave that to you and the comments section if you like. Or, you can, like me, just enjoy the asshole parade that descends on this music festival every year without fail. It’s so embarrassingly funny to me.