I understand that I continue to dwell in the past, however, one thing I have learned about myself is that I do have a propensity towards nostalgia and sweet reminiscing. Also, given the tumult and the mundane hum-drum of the past couple weeks, it is soothing and pleasant to reflect and visually return to an evening that was spent in fun, frolic, and revelry with my good friends and my new man: New Year's Eve. This year was a complete success, both sartorially and personally, as I made only the best decisions and miraculously awoke without a hangover.
A few months ago, at the very up the road consignment boutique where I snagged my favorite winter white Oscar de la Renta skirt, I found this dress: a very fitted, black, backless, gold-studded long-sleeved, shoulder padded vintage Tadashi cocktail dress. Initially, with a single glance, the dress seemed too ridiculous. Once I managed to shimmy my hips that never seem to lie into this dress, it remained a tad ridiculous, however, fit me like a dream. My desire to own this number was only bolstered by the encouraging power of this wizened eighty year old grandmother who volunteers at the shop (all proceeds go to support the local hospital; more on this amazing shop later): "Oh my dear, I would die for your body." Despite being only a mere skip away from sailing with dear Charon into some realm better than this one, I took this woman's comment for a compliment. This amazingly funky interpretation of the quintessential little black dress only set me back about 15$ or so. Once December rolled around and I was without a steady salary, I was certainly thankful that I had the foresight to snatch this up, as it was absolutely perfect for drinks and fireworks and other foolery to celebrate the New Year.
The filmmaker and I met up with good friends of mine from university, now roommates, Becca and Peter, who live in a cosy apartment in south Williamsburg. One of my favorite guy friends, who I have not seen in ages, was visiting from all the way out in Washington, left coast style. My best friend Rebecca was there, as well as two of her lovely friends from Brown, where they are all in graduate school, so it was a nice amalgamation of a reunion and new friends. We all had a few drinks and some laughs, then crossed the water onto the island and headed to the Upper West side, where we went to a dinner party at our friend Paul's parents apartment; completely endearing location, and certainly very generous of his parents to allow a whirlwind of young guests. Paul prepared lamb with a yogurt sauce, salad greens with chick peas, and bleu cheese crostinis, all of which were delicious. And of course, more whiskey cocktails and champagne.
The group then hopped over to a larger, slightly more raucous party, ironically being hosted by a former beau of mine, who happens to share many mutual friends. I had not seen this particular gentleman in a number of months, and though things did not end quite how I would have wanted them to, due to a certain spoiled and selfish nature of one of the involved parties, he is a charming and affable young man, and I wanted, even just for the sake of social graces, to remain friendly. However, I was, obviously, quite apprehensive about bringing the film maker to this former beau's (or, perhaps more aptly, young man who used to take me on lavish dates) party, at his parent's very beautiful and extragent Upper West side home. Though not impressed with my choice of former companion, the filmmaker mixed in seamlessly and without too much notice with my friends. We drank and danced and watched the fireworks explode in the sky over the park from tall dining room windows, and shared a midnight kiss in the dark. It was absolutely perfect, despite the romantic comedy potential by attending a party with a former gentleman caller.
I am a rather buxom build, and so I wore a leotard underneath the dress, in order to get away without any interferences across the back. This stratagem proved fruitful; after many of the evening festivities in Manhattan, while winding down in a dive bar in the Williamsburg neck of the woods in Brooklyn, I was street styled by a friendly and mildly intoxicated young lady, working for the Influential Archive. I began following this blog soon after, and though I have not yet graced their image files, the contributors have a keen eye and some great street inspiration. Also, obviously, they are on the look out for fashion forward looks from us regular ladies and gentlemen, and not merely models, which is always a bonus.
On another note, I cannot recall the name of the dive, but it featured both Buck Hunt and Connect Four. I did not indulge in the Buck Hunt, but the filmmaker's best bud, and our sleepover host for the evening, put on a rather riveting display of electronic hunting and gathering capabilities.
The accessories that I paired with the dress for the evening: some large black and black with gold barbed wire bangles, an oversized geometric plastic or faux-ivory ring, and some drop black and gold and rhinestone earrings.
The gold barbed wire lucite bangle was a find from that same Upper West side outdoor market as my lucite chandelier necklace, featured in my winter white post. I wear both of these lucite pieces constantly now, as they are both utterly unique and stand on their own, yet match my wardrobe in a truly ideal manner. I love the contrast of the smooth lucite and its transparency with the sharp angles of the barbed wire and its golden glint.
Finally, my opulent, Dynasty-inpsired outfit would not be complete without some over the top dangling earrings; these were a present to myself, found in an antique center near Shrewsbury, Pennsylvania. My mother and I had gone to a Christmas open house at the store the day following Thanksgiving, still tryptophan weary from the rich feast, and I was lucky with a number of great finds. These are a bit too decadent for the office, even for me, but I am definitely working to build these into my rotation more frequently.