On A Rainy Day...

There's something about rainy days and puddles which kind of make you obsess about the humble boot.
Maybe it's the fact that water doesn't get in (thank you useless canvas shoes)
Or childhood dreams/memories of jumping in puddles (mind you, unachieved childhood dream - because in glamorous South East Asia - puddles are probably more akin to pools of battery acid...)
Or the fact that they're just 'made for walking' (especially true on that day where featured friend and I trawled from one side of the city to the other and enjoyed a shower au naturel at the same time...only the most fabulous way to be drenched is with good, stylish company...it's something I could see Isabella Blow or Diana Vreeland agreeing with...if they weren't so impeccable...all the time)

In any event - I'm a little envious/obsessed (or demented lovechild of the two...) of my fellow drenched companion's Jeffrey Campbell vaguely nouveau cowboy style gumboot booties. Perfect for puddle jumping. With a hint of unexpected Parisian insouciance (curse you Chloe and Vanessa Bruno for making me drool over quasi-cowboy boots...).

And of course - I could never say no to a well-heeled urban hiker's well-loved companion, a fabulous Balmoral in tan (oh yes...proper terminology...golden star sticker for me)...

It sometimes makes me wish the rain didn't go away...

Momentarily of course.

Love

xx

Bec

Shredded

Ah there's so much to love about my partner in trippin' and all things shallow...
Her enigmatic charm and her thing for industrial-chic Helmut Lang/Rick Owens/Yohji/Comme-esque outfits definitely rank high on my list of things I adore (and quite possibly drool over while sadly wishing I was that hot)
Checklist:
Moody, artistic, ever-reliable, fail-safe black - Check
Androgynous but totally sexy (ever so slightly provocative) detail - Check
Preternaturally cool chutzpah to go with it - Double check




So now I am totally tempted to go run a black tee through my paper shredder. Although my hypothesis for that little experiment is that it will not end well (or rather in pieces for the humble oversized black tee...)

Love

xo

Bec

For a bit of extra perving - and to make me feel like I'm right on the look zeitgeist - the black shredded tee look totally made it into the Rochambeau lookbook for A/W 10 (which is totally worth looking at if only for the weird girl-on-girl action between the model and uh...herself)

Rochambeau - http://rochambeau.us.com/fall10/

Those Brogues

Brogues...
Winkle-poppers...
Dandy man shoes...
Derbies...
Richelieus...


They go by many names but the unmistakeable cool factor remains the same.
Whatever you call them, there's nothing more chic than teaming a pair of brogues with an outfit to give it that 'borrowed from the boys...but I can wear it infinitely better than you' edge.

Note: Many items fall into this category I've noticed...namely...the oversized tuxedo shirt, suspenders, cuffed shorts, trousers, grandpa cardigans, oversized Rolexes, cologne...I could go on and on (But do feel free to add to the list of power)

There is a factor of overwhelming sexiness and empowerment about making a masculine item yours.
Which is one of the many reasons why I fell in love with these brogues from the moment I saw them.

On the one hand, they remind me of my beloved classic patent black Repettos purchased in Paris (like the ones Serge Gainsbourg wore except not quite in the pimp white colour) but with cut out panels that just made me flip over and gasp in that oh-so-familiar mix of envy and awe. It's like tradition but twisted on its head and given that extra little bit of sexiness.

Of course like all amazing things they were purchased in some random little store that has since faded from memory...

But it inspires me to make a whole new look: 'Borrowed from an edgy boy'

Love

xo

Bec

Billy is totally my lover!

Michael Jackson may not have wanted Billie Jean as his lover...
But then again Billie Jean was probably not a completely lustworthy bag.

The Billy bag is one of Jerome Dreyfuss' classics

For those of you who don't know Jerome Dreyfuss...shame and many fashionistic stones on you...Quick summary: He's a bit of an under the radar legend. French naturally. Married to Isabel Marant...naturally. And he makes sublime bags all named after boys. Obviously he read my mind for the need for a constant arm companion...only in the softest cushiest leather ever...and with mini-flashlights in the pockets so that...you can actually find all the crap you've thrown into your bag and lost...I found a long-lost lipgloss the other day...but that's a story for another time.

Evidently - only stratospherically cool people walk around with Jerome Dreyfuss bags nonchalantly hanging off their arms. Mainly because most people don't actually know them when they see them...

R: 'Oh my god...is that a Jerome Dreyfuss bag?'

J: 'Uhh...yes...'

R: 'Can I cuddle it?'

J: 'I guess...if I can steal your soon-to-be-owned Boyy bag...'

And here it is...one of my most lusted over squeezes...

Michael would totally be singing a different tune...

Love

xo

Bec