The other weekend, the filmmaker and I ventured into the mad, bad, dangerous streets of Brooklyn to visit a few of my friends and to head to a local bar to see our friend Ashley's rap group perform. I had heard her freestyle casually before, but had not yet seen her trio together; on the stage, she is Barbara Bushwick, donning a slightly unbuttoned schoolgirl blouse coupled with a mosaic mirrored glass hot pink bra, which she constructed. She has incredible energy and passion, and an acute wit that can be matched by few; I had a blast watching her bravado.
With the city still steaming and humid, even in the evening hours, I wanted to wear a dress, in an attempt to prevent all bodily fluids from dissipating wildly from my panting skin. This stratagem was mildly effective, but it seems some sweat and the city are inseparable for the summer months.
A notably embarrassing admission, albeit one that is not completely atypical or reprehensible: I have watched an immense amount of Sex and the City in my past, and, when the appropriate opportunity presents itself, continue to this day to indulge. As with most women, and men, who are critical thinkers, well read, poetic romantics, the fascination for and dedication to the series is founded in the beautiful aesthetics of the various characters, the catwalk, store window display of design meets soap opera, hyperbolized, illusions of grandeur plot lines in a fulcrum of visually mesmerizing entertainment. Character development is rather flat and two-dimensional at best, however, can be easily overlooked in the face of beautiful pumps, illustrious furs, and bold cocktail dresses.
One such dress, the infamous nude dress of the first season, had been, in recent times, resurfacing among the array of images across my conscious catalogue; neutral nudes have been gaining in popularity and have been nearly impossible to ignore. When I saw this dress on sale at the Gap, a simple and clean wrap dress, I knew that the pale pink was a bit of a compromise, yet, still alluded to the alluring nude color I have been coveting. To my benefit, the pale pink, I believe, works better with my current skin tone, which, alas, has had little time to absorb any warmth and color from the dangerously seductive ultraviolet rays of our planet's sun.
To contrast with the simplicity of the color and cut of the dress, I wore heavy gold, black and clear lucite, and rhinestone bracelets. Likewise, my dangling 1980s earrings were gold and black, with subtle rhinestones embedded in the body.
This egg-shaped purse with the large, gold hoop handles was an incredible find, procured from the bowels of an antiques mall in southern Pennsylvania, a few miles north of my parent's home. I found the gem a few years back, while I was still at university, and am positive it was around 10$ or so; total steal.