Last Thursday evening, the filmmaker and I sought refuge from the humidity in the cool cavern of our local theater to see popular French film The Intouchables; though still a bit swampy, the temperatures did drop a bit with the sun, an ideal environment for a long, flowing maxi skirt. A black silk-like pleated maxi can imbue a stuffy formality, akin to young Amish maidens, or a pretentious sophistication; paired with basic flats and simple cream, the skirt is infused with a more casual attitude. It is this juxtaposition that I love, a sort of simultaneous casual chic and classic elegance. On sale, I could not resist this BCBG piece, an amalgamation of wardrobe basic, a simple black bottom, and the still omnipotent maxi trend. Despite my very long legs and tall frame, certain maxi skirts and dresses still somehow scrape against the ground, obviously constructed for females of impressive Amazonian proportions. This skirt is the optimum length, neither dragging along in the dirt, but still long enough that I can glide about, holding it up in one hand as though I were some coquette ripped from the pages of a D.H. Lawrence novel.
The blazer was a sort of rational impulse purchase from Zara, a store I often admonish and harangue about, while killing some time at a meeting in Barcelona. It appealed to me as an alternative to a hooded sweatshirt, a clothing article that I try to relegate to the gym alone, or to a basic chunky cardigan: it is a basic soft cotton material, warm and practical, yet also structured. Blazers typically connote professional or preppy, and this one is no exception, though its fabric and heather cream pattern lend it a comfortable look. Mostly, I plan to use this as my new favored travel garb; it works well for air conditioned movie theaters as well.
Unsurprising to anyone who has attended a movie with me, my leather woven Cole Haan purse was filled to the brim with delicious sandwiches; surprisingly, there was no red wine and accompanying plastic cups being stowed away.
Sparkle in a darkened movie theater is perhaps unnecessary, but, nonetheless, my rhinestone resplendent black and silver bangles and earrings bore many a glint and glisten.
These 1960s Nina Ricci frames were a gift to myself from the famous Marché aux Puce St. Ouen in one of the northern neighborhoods in Paris; to me, they are equal parts Jackie Kennedy Onassis and Iris Apfel, a mash-up both hilarious and grand. In anticipation for more autumnal sensibilities, I envision pairing them with my classic camel trench coat and new Frye boots.