Posts tagged ‘brooklyn’
Love At First Sight
A lot of people don’t believe in love at first sight. I am not one of these people. Though never with a human (I didn’t even look twice at the boy who wound up being my first boyfriend), I have fallen in love at first sight many times. My heart flutters in virginal excitement almost every time I see a slice of pizza, and I have fallen into deep, immediate love with more pieces of clothing than I can keep track of. However, unlike pizza and even humans, the unstoppable heartbreaking emotion that comes when I see a piece of clothing can almost never be immediately satisfied. More often than not this new love interest is walking down the runway, thus a season ahead of my acquiring schedule, or labeled at a price that would require a loan from the bank in order to obtain (see everything Chanel). But thanks to the beauty of sites like eBay and Copious, and consignment or thrift shops scattered about, finding “the one that got away” (or the one you just couldn’t afford when it was staring you in the face) is actually possible.
One of my favorite ways to kill time between meetings, appointments, or just to avoid doing the thing I’m supposed to be doing, is by dipping my nose into random consignment shops throughout NYC. Not only is such an adventure time consuming (you just can’t go into a thrift store and sift — it’s an archaeological digging process), but the gems you can find are just unbeatable — like that time I scored this Bottega Veneta bag for $25.
While in between a teeth cleaning and my own dermatological stripshow, I decided to lift my spirits (I loathe doctors appointments) with a jaunt through a consignment shop on the Upper East Side. I didn’t go in with the intention of purchasing anything — I get as much thrill from looking at clothes as I do with buying them — until my eyes bulged and my body B-lined like Frankenstein on Speed toward this Dolce & Gabbana tomato skirt.
The skirt is from the designer’s Spring 2012 collection and was originally the cost of a nice studio apartment. When I first saw it on Style.com, I twitched and drooled like I’d just been tasered (my normal “love at first sight” reaction). Joseph’s beard and Veronica’s eyebrows! This skirt wasn’t just for me and my love of vibrant prints! It spoke to my tastebuds and stomach as well! I could hear both my mouth salivating and my stomach grumbling, “Is that an heirloom!?”. But one glance at the hefty price tag not only left me with the reality of never owning such a beauty, but also considering a DIY where I would glue tomatoes onto a white trash bag and dub it couture. We do desperate things when it comes to love, don’t we?
But the stars aligned for me that day, and my beloved tomato skirt wrapped itself around my waist for $150. Some of you may consider this “meant to be”, but I like to think of it as a reward for getting an A+ on flossing from my dentist. Let this be a lesson in never neglecting your gums again, because you just never know when the love of your life will show up.
Malika sweater | Dolce & Gabbana skirt | Proenza Schouler heels | Bottega Veneta bag | Vintage sunglasses
// photos by Emily Malan
Mom Jeans
In honor of Mother’s Day (it’s this Sunday for all you terrible sons and daughters who forgot), I thought I’d address one of the fashion stigmas they’ve bestowed upon the world: ‘Mom Jeans’. For those unfamiliar with the garment, Mom Jeans are the awkwardly baggy yet tapered jeans that sit high around the waist, sag around the butt, and are as unflattering to the female figure as a silk romper bunched up around the camel-toe. But back in the prime time of Mom Jeans, our mothers were not wearing jeans to make style statements and attract men. They already had our dads on lockdown, as is evident by giving birth to us and becoming moms. These jeans were built for comfort when driving in mini vans and station wagons to pick up us kiddies from school and do all the other kinds of schlepping our loving mothers do. (My mom cut the crusts off my sandwiches, did yours?)
It took me several years to get my mom out of Mom Jeans, and it was a slow and steady process — all beginning with the brand Not Your Daughter’s Jeans. I am happy to report that she is now looking and feeling babe-a-licious in the Sheri Skinny Jean, but in order to address the Mom Jeans stigma I asked to borrow the very pair she wore throughout my eighties/early nineties childhood. I also busted out some Wasa crackers because I have yet to meet a mom who doesn’t eat those (mine enjoys hers with peanut butter in the mornings). This station wagon also happened to be parked right outside my apartment and just felt all too fitting. Carpool, anyone?
Brochu Walker sweater | Calvin Klein jeans ca 1985 | Sperry loafers | Bottega Veneta bag | Wasa crackers
Worn with a standard cashmere sweater, Bottega Veneta bag, and leopard loafers (for the sassy mom), I made sure to show off the worst qualities of the Mom Jeans by doing absolutely nothing to them. Every time I tried to roll up a cuff or add a belt I kept saying to myself, “Don’t do it Sonia. Let these jeans have their moment.” So here you see them, having their glorious billowy moment, 7-inch zipper and all. I admit I was comfortable, but the poor fit was all too awkward to even go grocery shopping or walk Finn. Five minutes of Mom Jeans shame and I ran back inside to play tailor.
Ten minutes later and I was feelin’ sharp. Kind of like how my mom feels in her new skinny jeans. By cuffing her hand-me-downs a few times at the ankle to give them a more tailored tapered leg and adding a cropped sweater to show that there is actually a waistline around that seven-inch crotch to button closure, I actually felt more ladylike than I do in my everyday sausage casing denim. 
With snakeskin pumps (keeping that sassy feeling I got from the leopard loafers, but elevating it five inches), a bib necklace, and my usual jamble of bracelets and bangles, I no longer felt like I should be eating Wasa crackers. Give me a fresh baguette with pâté and a glass of Pinot Noir!
And even though there was still a bunched up nature around the crotch region, I just viewed it as extra room for extra comfort which, need I remind you, is the essence of Mom Jeans! Talk about full circle.
Opening Ceremony sweater | Calvin Klein jeans ca 1985 | Coye Nokes heels | Zara bag | BaubleBar x Honestly WTF necklace
So before you go harping on your mom for her awkward fitting Mom Jeans, I leave you with this advice. Give her a break, because her jeans are actually more awesome and wearable than you think! Not Your Daughter’s Jeans? Please…Not Your MOTHER’S Jeans (even though they are, but you get what I’m saying).
THANKS MOMMY! LOVE YOU!
//photos by Emily Malan
Treat Yoself
Even when on shopping “hiatus”, I will make exceptions simply because some things are just too good to pass up (and maybe because I have a slight addiction). It’s kind of like being on a diet and then getting handed a plate of authentic Italian gnocchi. You just don’t turn that down. When this happens I like to picture Donna from Parks and Recreation saying “TREAT YOSELF,” since even the most addicted of shoppers deserve a treat every now and then (and even the most devoted of dieters deserve a plate of gooey potato pasta goodness).
Such was the case with this Cynthia Rowley skirt printed with thought bubbles of all things awesome on it. Lipstick. Diamonds. Cameras. I’m pretty sure there’s a slice of pizza on there as well. TREAT YOSELF. Thankfully, the skirt was on sale on Gilt so I could justify the purchase just a little more, which is how I imagine most people feel when they order a Diet Coke with their double double animal style burger and fries.
Prada shirt | Cynthia Rowley skirt | Kelsi Dagger heels | Hermes bracelet
//photos by Emily Malan
That’s My Name
Throughout most of my childhood I admired the Jessicas, Katies, Jennys and Michelles of the world. I wanted nothing more than a standard name; so much so that I named my favorite teddybear (who still sits on my bed) Sarah. I may have been given a different name, but there was no way I was going to let my teddybear grow up with the same frustrations. It’s not that Sonia is all that rare of a name actually, it’s just that people butcher the spelling and pronunciation beyond belief. Sonya. Sonja. Sonie. “Did you say your name was Sylvia?” “Hi Saaaah-nea, nice to meet you.” It’s SO-NIA. S.O.N.I.A. Dammit!
What’s more is that I was never able to find a snow globe, license plate keychain, or magnet with my name on it at the airport. I would turn those revolving racks around and around and around, passing all the Hillarys, Laurens, and Susans, desperate to find Sonia. She was not there. “Jesus” and “Daddy” were though.
It wasn’t until sixth grade that I began to appreciate my name. While I would like to say I had this breakthrough moment where I realized a name is only just a name and that I’m lucky not to be a Petunia or a Bertha, that didn’t happen. This is what did happen:
I was walking on Lexington Avenue with my Mom when we passed a store that had a particularly “mom-friendly” window display — think khakis, A-line dresses, and white patent-leather Mary Janes. I was in need of a winter jacket, so my Mom suggested we “pop our nose in” just to see what they had. I was not impressed. It smelled like an old woman wearing way too much perfume. The ivory white carpet was obnoxiously clean. And the store itself was all too quiet, which inevitably warrants the sales people to hover over you even if you tell them “I’m just browsing.” I was ready to give my Mom one big eye roll and stamper out of the store, but then she held up a black hooded bomber jacket lined with brown faux fur. What started as an eye roll turned into the same face I make when I see an overflowing buffet. My eyes open wide, pupils bulging, and my mouth turns into a giant, tongue exposing grin.
I floated over to the jacket to give it a proper inspection, and it was then that I saw my name. “Sonia”, correct spelling and all, typed up in capital letters on the tag. Holy penguins. That’s my name! Is this what they call fate? It must be. Just below SONIA was “Rykiel”, which at the time could have been a type of fabric or city for all I knew. My Mom told me she was a big deal designer, but since my designer knowledge didn’t go past the likes of Abercrombie and Fitch, I just nodded and said I loved it. I also said she was my favorite designer for about five years after that; though, aside from my gorgeous new jacket, I’d never seen another piece by her. It just made me feel cool knowing that I shared my name with a chic Parisienne designer. It also made me feel OK knowing that I would never find a license plate keychain with my name on it. A keychain? Puh-lease. Who needs some dinky souvenir when you can wear a dress covered in Sonias. You know?
Maje jacket | Sonia Rykiel dress | Prabal Gurung x Target heels | Bracelets by Hermes, Giles & Brother, BaubleBar, House of Harlow
//photos by Emily Malan
The Maxi Wins Again
Well isn’t this curious. Back in October when the weather was transitioning from summer to fall, I wrote about the maxi dress being a great transition piece. And now, as the weather switches from winter to spring, I am here again promoting the skirts of a longer length. Only this time, instead of a dress, I’ve hiked up my maxi skirt so that it functions as a moomoo tube dress of sorts.
Now, a couple of things about wearing a maxi skirt as a dress. Unless you are a twigster, this type of silhouette can be uber unflattering. So to combat looking like a tree trunk, I stress the importance of a structured, hip length jacket. This not only adds some dimension to your look and says “hey I actually do have some shape I just chose to wear this snakeskin potato sack,” but also adds to the whole notion that we are in a climatic transition here and certain limbs must still be covered.
And while we’re on the subject of covered limbs, let’s take a moment here to appreciate how maxi length dresses and skirts allow us to go tightsless while still covering the deathly pale color of our legs. I’m honestly shocked you can’t see the brick wall through my kneecaps.
So, while you’re busy covering up your gradually tanning limbs, let your mini-limbs (aka fingers and wrists) take the spotlight with extra bulky accoutrements that allow you to track your tan as the day progresses. Ring tans are the accessory of spring/summer 2013. You heard it here first.
Maje jacket | Michael Kors skirt worn as a dress (on sale!) | Rag & Bone boots | Coach bag | Vintage rings
// photos by Emily Malan
