Blouse: Zara/ Jacket: Marc by Marc Jacobs/ Skirt: Pink Tartan/ Shoes: Kimberly/ Bag: Celine
Obligatory disclaimer: This outfit is PETA friendly. Additionally, no bathroom carpets were injured in the making of this post.
days go by (which is generally the concept of time, but my writer's
block plagues me from conjuring a better opening line), my propensity
toward wearing garments of the feather and fur variety seems to increase
exponentially. And if my previous post is any proof, I seem to be
emulating characters from Sesame Street more often than not. That, or I
use clothes to mimic my morbidly over-active follicular glands, but to
save ya'll from my grossly unhygienic proclivities, we'll stick to the
Sesame Street theory (which I also conjured in my Easter post, and now
I've used the word "conjure" twice in one paragraph).
this post isn't really about the fact that I look Cookie-Monster chic
and my continuous inspiration from seemingly homosexual birds, but
rather, about style experimentation. While I was resolving on how to
style this skirt, my mom interjected with opinions on how such a
voluminous and busy skirt should be paired with something extremely
fitted and simple on top, so that it does not result in a convoluted rat's nest
of a outfit. I rolled my eyes at my mom and shot her in the face.
Just kidding about rolling my eyes, I would never do such a thing! She's my mother, people!
really, conventional rules about dressing are as boring as Kristin
Stewart's acting (this was my attempt at using a simile, tell me if
you're impressed), and what good is a Victorian inspired Marc Jacobs
jacket (and subsequently, a chartreuse blouse), if you aren't going to
pair it with a feathered skirt?
No good at all, that's the answer.
going school-boy, or an androgynous school-girl on top, you should
likely go flamenco dancer (or whatever else of the Latin dance variety)
on the bottom. What's the fun in only embracing one theme, when you can
indulge various limbs of your body in so many others? Staying
school-girl chic all over would just render you a mannequin, and we all
know how I feel about mannequins (read Kristin Stewart).
fashion experiments evokes that exciting element of trial and error,
curiosity and wreaks of individuality. We almost feel liberated and more
lucid when we don't dress to conform to a camera lens, when we throw
out our everyday sense of propriety, when we vacate away from our
'normal selves' and when we channel our inner Carrie Bradshaws. When we
ignore the typical 'rules' around fashion, what you're left with is pure
fun and possibly strange looks from bystanders, that rightfully
question the mental state of your mind.
What are your thoughts on playing with fashion? Are you a conformist? Talk to me.