And you are starry, starry, starry...

Follow me to the land of lovely...

What can I say about Garance Dore (garancedore.fr) except that to a girl like me this blog is a dream come true. A friend of mine told me about the site several months ago, and since then I've checked in daily to see what's new in the land of lovely. The whimsical french illustrator travels the world over with a camera and sketch pad, capturing the sweetest things in life: beautiful photographs of fashionable passersby, miniature interviews with her adored (and coincidentally also fashionable) friends, and her fantastic illustrations (which I have found quite inspiring). When I look at things through her eyes I'm lead to believe that there really is a world where we all live enchanted, sunday afternoon cafe lifestyles. The photos, the art work and the translated text (which is quirky, upbeat, and delightful) take me to another place entirely. Yes, in this place we all move breezily through the city streets of Paris and New York on Holland bikes and beach cruisers while wearing pouty skirts and high-high heels. We always have a bundle of tulips in our bicycle baskets and we're forever be on our way to meet a friend, or a lover, or to a gorgeous outdoor market. Needless to say this site provides me with my morning dose of charm, and then some. Oh, delicious charm.

We'll stop here along the way...

TVC 15

I Was Told There'd Be Cake

Sloane Crosley has been compared to David Sedaris and other masters of quick witted scoundral-ism ever since the release of I Was Told There’d Be Cake last year. I was wary of this diagnosis, as I believe Sedaris to be a genius who I would follow to the ends of the earth (have you ever heard him read his own work on public radio? Ah-mazing!). I did, however, come to develop a special place in my heart for this new, critically acclaimed author.
Crosley is perfectly unselfconscious and even somewhat narcissistic in her writing style. Her stories are seen solely through her eyes, filtered exclusively through her quirky interpretations, and yet somehow they bare a startling resemblance to pieces of our own experiences. Her observations are often a little dark and always a lot funny, and there is a suburban quality to her work that I particularly like (one that reminds me of ho-hum afternoons spent listening to the squeak of empty swing sets swaying over deserted tanbark playgrounds-- does anyone else have this memory?). It is here in the day-to-day that the author finds these lovely poignant moments, the ones that are so special because we've all had them, even if we could not articulate them. In a style that is brilliantly plain and clever Crosley tells the stories we all wish we knew how to tell-- stories of our families, of where we grew up, of who we are, of who we wish we were, and of the plans we've made for our unborn Flemish children. With all this wit there is nothing left for one to do than laugh, reflect, and eagerly read on. It is my humble opinion that Ms. Crosley deserves all the praise she has received.

I've seen love go by my door

Yes, Sir!

I would have to say that the east coast equivalent of House of Hengst would have to be, in my eyes at least, Brooklyn's own Sir. Located on both Atlantic Avenue, in what real estate agents might call "Brooklyn Heights", and on Bedford Ave., in the heart of hipsterville (eh hem, I mean williamsburg), Sir is another carefully constructed collection of vintage-inspired clothing being manufactured on a small scale with craft and beauty. The line's designer, Joanna Baum, describes her pieces as having "Parisian sensibilities" and a “pretty, roughed-up look”, which to me sounds just about perfect. Gauzy, sexy, sheer, sophisticated and all with a touch of vixen is what I see whenever I stop into the Atlantic Ave. shop (which is frequently, as it is just around the corner from my house). I imagine Baum's pieces to be wearable either to the office or, with a touch of ruby-red lipstick, out for drinks in the later hours. More so, they are perfect if you want to go for a slightly more worldly version of Maggie Gyllenhaal's look in Secretary. Which, coincidentally, I do. Now, where did I put that pencil skirt?