Posts tagged ‘runway hippie’
I know what you’re thinking. “Sonia, you showed us a photo of this outfit on Friday. Throw something else out there.” And I hear you. I really do. But I felt I should give you a little more info as to my thought process behind the look.
When I was approached by StyleCaster to style an outfit for spring, my immediate thoughts went to my leather jacket. I realize that a leather jacket doesn’t exactly scream spring, but it’s transeasonal. Is that a word? Probably not, but I’m making it one. You see, the beauty of spring and fall is that the climate isn’t extreme. You can wear shorts with a puffer jacket. Pants with a tank top. A ski suit with flip flops. In this scenario however, I opted for florals (I know…”groundbreaking”) to break up the edginess of the leather biker jacket that I actually did buy at a Harley Davidson store.
The result is what I like to think as effortlessly European — as in “ooh I am wearing this floral outfit but there is a slight chill so let me just throw on this rough biker jacket before I hop on my Vespa to go drink wine outdoors with friends.” (I hope you all read that in a French accent). So maybe I should rethink those Isabel Marant sandals as my spring investment and go for a Vespa, because that seems pretty transeasonal too.
Schott jacket | J.Crew shirt | Asos skirt | Schutz heels | Celine sunglasses
// photos by Emily Malan
A Week in Review
Bags all packed and ready to go for Miami (bienvenido a Miami).
This was a short week for me as today, at this very moment, I am on a plane to Miami for my friend Sevan’s bachelorette party. Break out the strippers, matching bikinis, and inflatable penises! Just kidding. It’s not going to be anything like that. Anyhoo(ters), I’ve finally taken into account that we are out of the blustery winter season since I have not reached for a downcoat once in the past month. This naturally beckons the start of short shorts and rosé, and while I have yet to reach for shorts on a daily basis (let’s not get ahead of ourselves here), I have embraced the rosé season with open arms and an open mouth. Thankfully, I’m a teeny weeny step closer to announcing a big update on here (I’m such a tease, I know), which is grounds for celebration; therefore making my rosé intake totally appropriate. Right?
Cheers to the weekend!
My ‘Crushing Florals with Leather’ outfit styled for StyleCaster.
Rosé season is hands down one of my favorite seasons.
Finally! Supergas that are shouting “Sonia! Take us somewhere!” to which I say “Don’t worry guys! You’re coming to Miami!”
Compulsive book purchases (you can never have too many) hanging out with Seymour the Whale.
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
DIY: Big Tub of Balm to Small Tub of Balm
I have an affinity for large tubs of things. I love tubs of champagne. Tubs of ice cream. Tubs full of puppies. And tubs of lip balm. However, after carrying around a giant tub of Josie Maran’s Argan Balm for weeks and then trying to stuff it into a small clutch bag with no success, I realized maybe I should think about downsizing. Unfortunately, Lady Maran’s (sorry, I’ve been watching a lot of Game of Thrones) nourishing all-purpose balm doesn’t come in mini size and I was forced to take matters into my own DIY hands.
So, in what is perhaps one of the most simple DIYs — except for maybe this one — I will now show you how to take your giant tub of awesome goop and turn it into a clutch-friendly travel pal!
You will need: an small, empty container (I found mine at the local drug store). A giant container full of your favorite balmy goodness (as you can tell, my favorite is Josie Maran’s Argan Balm. And a spoon, which you hopefully already have in your kitchen.
Take your spoon and carve out some balm from the big container. Make sure you start small so that you don’t overflow your small container and end up with a greasy mess.
Using the back of the spoon, smoosh down the balm into the smaller container. Once you have enough in there, use your finger to smooth out the top.
Now take your new itsy bitsy container of balm and put it into the smallest bag you own! TA DA!
The Punk Aesthetic
With tonight’s Met Gala and the opening of the new Punk: Chaos to Couture exhibit, I decided to put together a topical punk-inspired outfit for today’s post. When I first approached my closet with the “punk” mindset — Sex Pistols, Siouxsie & the Banshees, and Iggy Pop playing on full blast much to my neighbor’s dismay (the girl who lived in my apartment before me actually got kicked out because she held punk rock shows in my living room) — I was pretty surprised by how easily I put the look together. My initial outfit however was much more like a costume than something I would actually wear. Black jeans, ripped t-shirt, leather jacket, red plaid shirt tied around my waist, spiked bracelets, Doc Martens, thick black eyeliner and oxblood lipstick. It’s not that I didn’t like the outfit, I actually think I looked pretty awesome and hardcore, but I also looked like I was going to punch someone. So, I toned everything down to make it more Sonia appropriate since something tells me you don’t come here to see me dressed up in costumes, and if you do then I must really be letting you down.
I wiped off the lipstick, removed a good half inch of black eyeliner, and took off the red plaid shirt and spiked bracelets. I then added a pile of edgy necklaces and a safety pin cuff since the punks may as well have invented safety pins (fun fact: apparently a man named Walter Hunt invented the safety pin, but Sid Vicious made them cool). I also opted for my go-to black Acne boots instead of the Doc Martens. Even though I wear Docs from time to time, I just felt over the top. Like I was trying too hard. Which is probably what a lot of people think about punks. But that’s also what I kind of love about them. Here are these grungy, angsty kids with an I don’t give a hoot attitude, when actually it takes a really really long time to do a perfectly spiked mohawk. It’s also a serious DIY project to put safety pins all over your jacket — something I started and never finished doing in high school. So really, they give a lot of hoots. More than your average owl.
When I decided on a look that didn’t feel more appropriate for Halloween party than a jaunt around my neighborhood, I met up with Emily to take pics (duh) and she told me I looked pissed off in the photos. That’s the point, I replied. I was getting into character! Upon looking through them later however, I couldn’t help but notice that me looking pissed off also looks like I might throw up on you. But who knows, throwing up on fans could have been a party trick back in the day of hardcore garage bands where bloody noses were souvenirs because you weren’t afraid of a mosh pit.
So really, along with emulating the punk style aesthetic — with maybe too few safety pins — I also could be mimicking an artist’s signature performance trick and I didn’t even have to think about it! I feel so badass. Maybe I’ll go take a walk down St. Mark’s Place.