[Leifsdottir dress + Leigh & Luca scarf + vintage turquoise + Club Monaco earrings.]
Destination: ALB.
Washington, DC, on a Sunday morning. In 2003, I spent a terrific Sunday morning in a gas station here—in a hot pink negligee, sunglasses, and fox fur trimmed coat—hungover and digging through a fridge for chocolate milk while a mother stood nearby shielding her son’s eyes. Memory rizzle. Good stuff! See you from Vermont— C.
Don’t think twice, it’s all right.
[Staring at Stars fringed tank + jacket, Free People shorts + Luv AJ sheet metal cuff/anklet + Shaashi necklace + vintage turquoise.] The brilliant David Gahan of Depeche Mode once said: “I still hold on to the idea that a record can really change the way I feel.” If that’s true—and I believe it is—I probably shouldn’t have listened exclusively to… View Post
My United States of Whateva.
Nothing short of absurd for my favorite holiday. Quick recap: I made us two hours late, Steve McKenna‘s kid called me mom, there were wardrobe changes, and we celebrated America with Britain’s best, Exile on Main Street. My shirt suited quite well given the soundtrack. Pretty par for the course.
The great white comedown.
[Finding a moment of sheer happiness alone in the new house: winding down after a party in Leifsdottir dress + Scorah Pattulo heels + Gara Danielle turquoise beads n’ things. Note the fish on the dress, not the fish we had yet to hang.] I’m pretty sure there’s a little control room in my brain, with busy, bespectacled men at… View Post