Shine Bright Like A Diamond

Pardon the interruption… and by interruption I mean the two-month time lapse since my last post. During my brief hiatus/extended vacation from the blogosphere I managed to acquire one of the most significant finger accessories of one’s life, a circular sparkler of eternal love! In what seemed like a complete whirlwind and flurry of excitement I celebrated my birthday, accepted a proposal from the love of my life and feted our engagement with our closest family and friends. My parents threw us an awesome party where we all tried to act fancy and distinguished but by the end our wild-child ways got the best of us and we were asked to leave after a calamitous spillage of toothpicks and the over-zealous handling of a light-up novelty menorah. 

I wore an ivory silk one-shoulder dress by Zimmerman that I ordered from Shopbop a week before the party that draped fabulously and fit like a glove. It seemed like the dress of my dreams, but quickly turned into a sartorial nightmare when I had my mom zip me into it at 10pm the night before the party. In an ironic twist of fate I was watching a scene from my favorite guilty pleasure, White Chicks, where the Wayans brothers (posing as white women) bust open the seams of their outfits when almost simultaneously the zipper of my dress broke. To say I threw a BF is an understatement, but my mom’s a rockstar, and sadly very used to my fashion-related meltdowns, so she sprang to action and had that devil zipper replaced first thing in the morning. 

Calf hair and gold spikes are the stuff dreams are made of- and coincidentally the stuff Zara heels are made of as well. It seemed fitting that my shoes were from Zara; behind Ryan, Zara is my second great love. The heels are literally the most amazing pair of pumps I currently own because although they could seriously injure someone should I decide to karate kick them, they are surprisingly comfortable on my tootsies, a true mash-up of form and function.  Check out some of my favorite pics from the event shot by my future husband. 

Maiden Lane

I look melancholy on Maiden Lane, but looks can be deceiving. I'm actually quite spritely because 1) It's almost time to "fall back" and who doesn't love an extra hour of sleep? 2) The weather has changed and I get to layer all of my favorite Zara pieces with reckless abandon (sweater, parka, purse and coated skinnies all courtesy of Zara) and 3) A pair of brown "leather" boots I scored at Forever 21 last fall have morphed into a miraculously timeless wardrobe staple! I was feeling extra giddy in these pics because I had just spent a solid hour gossiping with my mane man Todd Jeffrey (who tames my big haute hair) at Vidal Sassoon while he worked his magic on the boy's curly tendrils. He's really helped Ry accept his natural texture, and me improve my Real Housewives of Miami impressions-"Nobody beats me to the tweet!" 

Silver + Gold Sunday

Silver + Gold Sunday by bighautehair featuring sheer tops

3 1 Phillip Lim sheer top
lagarconne.com

Ted baker
tedbaker-london.com

Balenciaga
balenciaga.com

Allsaint
allsaints.com

Sunday's are lazy and perfect for showcasing laid back style while running errands, shopping or brunching. I've styled the perfect Sunday look that suits any itinerary from downing mimosas with the girls to pretending to pay attention to a wide array of televised sporting events.  Just because it's the official day of rest, don't get caught looking like you are still half asleep; rock hybrid styles such as skinny jeans that are as comfy as leggings and sheer tops that feel like your favorite pajama top in lieu of actually leaving the house in sweats and slips. Metallic pops of gold hardware on a pair of combat boots and soft silver silks are comfortable, luxe and pair well with even the gnarliest bed head. The oversized clutch gives shape and texture with the calf hair lending to the touchableness of this ensemble but the bad ass boots warn of possible round house kicks should anyone actually try to reach out and touch you or your clutch. 

Zany for ZARA

Zany for ZARA by bighautehair featuring silk tops

I truly believe ZARA and I were made for one another. It could be reasoned that in some sort of serendipitous trifecta ZARA is a shortened version of the name of the main character (Zarathustra) in my favorite book (Thus Spoke Zarathustra) by my favorite philosopher (Nietzsche). No, this post is not about my main man Nietzsche, I was just drawing some pretty deep connections between my love for crazy philosophers and my favorite store in the entire world- ZARA. But, to make an even more mind-blowing link between Zarathustra and ZARA, I do get feelings akin to the Overman every time I step through those shiny doors. All sense of social decency leaves my body and I convert to a nihilistic set of moral values (bad and good no longer have meaning, only the overcoming of all other shoppers) when I see the new merchandise on full display every Thursday evening. I grab whatever I can get my little paws on and hold on for dear life because people go nuts for this stuff, well I assume they do because of my frenzied state so I protect my goods accordingly. I have no qualms about throwing an elbow here or there to snag a chanel-esque coat on sale, and I fully hog the mirrors while trying on all items that don't require me to get nude while previewing. Semi-nude is fine, especially if your bra is more of a bustier-that's basically a shirt.

Everything is amazing, everything is maje and it's sometimes overwhelming how many things I see and absolutely have to have. The fit is always perfectly body skimming and never too tight, most things are backless and I die for anything that lets my posterier feel free. I've usually amassed so many items by the time I make my first pass around the store that my arm starts to ache, I've actually had a sore bicep from some intense ZARA shopping sprees. But, just one lap around the building is not enough, because once I've filtered through the yes's and the no's of the first mad grab, I have honed my skills and can hunt down the secret gems that I may have missed. It's a very cathartic experience, you should try it sometime, but look out for a crazy-eyed blond girl if you dare venture to the Post street location. God I love Thursdays.

Leotard and Leathers

 Here is the last installment of my five part ode to my strange obsession with a certain striped bodysuit. My final leotard liaison is by far my favorite of the bunch, I know I’ve said that about each outfit thus far but this one really takes the cake in my eyes. By this point I’ve become so bonded with my bodysuit it’s become like a second skin to me, and what better to go with a proverbial second skin than an ACTUAL second skin: leathers. Just uttering the word “leathers” makes me feel like an instant bad ass. Technically speaking these Zara “leathers” are not real, they are faux, but still get me pretty darn excited because to add to the whole biker chic feel they’ve got zippers on zippers. The greatest part about them is that unlike other leather pants, they do not squeeze or make you resemble a stuffed sausage, they are actually comfortable and a little loose in the waist/crotch area, a very welcome change from my Topshop leather leggings that leave little to the imagination in that region which can be quite scary.

The day we shot this look I got super courageous and wanted to be a jungle girl who climbs trees and scales moss covered rocks  in five inch stilettos, it was all fun and games until I had to come out of the tree and I jumped onto Ry’s unsuspecting toes. Said toe-annihilators are my new Zara pumps that are so high I feel like I’m on stilts. They are knock-off Manholo Blaniks and although my dogs bark every time I wear them, I love them with all of my heart. Oddly enough (or not) my preferred pics from the day are in front of the phallus statue that stands proudly in Ryan’s parents’ yard. That thing is inspiring to say the least. I don’t know if it was the suggestive nature of the statue or the heat from the blaring sun but my big hair was too much to handle and it had to be wrangled into a messy bun towards the end of the day.