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!" 

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.

When Two Become One

Being a tiny person my whole life, I have always adhered to the adage that good things come in small packages, most likely as a coping mechanism to feel better about the fact that I never grew much past the sixth grade. So, I have decided to condense my admittedly overzealous attempt at styling one striped bodysuit five ways over the course of a single work week, into a shorter and sweeter version of my original plan. I've merged part three and four of my leotard series into one succinct reader friendly summary. I swear I'm not alone in my black and white stripe mania; Marc Jacobs, Oscar de la Renta and J. Crew all featured lined looks on their spring runways. See above (photos courtesy of Harper's Bazaar)

 For me, the American Apparel bodysuit conjures thoughts of Brigitte Bardot in her breton stripes, denim and perfectly rumpled hair, so my twofer of a post is dedicated to that effortless french girl je ne sais quoi. I've paired the striped wonder with my boyfriend jeans for a more casual take on the trend and a chiffon skirt in an attempt to channel the uncomplicated style of french fashionistas. These looks were really fun to shoot even though I fell down the stairs before we started, got run over by the dog midway through and sank three inches into the grass with my heels at the very end. When you are wearing a striped bodysuit the little things just roll right off your bare back.The chiffon skirt is also AA, completely transparent and appeals to my French heritage and strange love of awkward public semi-nudity. I normally stick with sheer shirts but when I saw this skirt I couldn’t resist the chance to appear as if I was wearing something on my lower half when in reality there’s nothing but a thin haze between me and the world. If I were to sport this look out I would wear some sort of bloomers or tights because my leotard has the high cut leg of a Baywatch bathing suit and may garner more disapproving glances than I can handle. The bodysuit/boyfriend jeans pairing is the most wearable ensemble of the bunch. I love how non-existent they make my butt look, something about droopy drawers is so wildly unappealing to men that this is a great look to wear out if you are wanting to deflect any and all male attention. I wore this exact outfit to a floozy Friday night dinner with all my best girlfriends last week and Ryan more than approved of my choice in legwear for the evening- he is a sly one! Tomorrow will be my final post in what was once known as “1 Leotard 5 Ways” but has now become the chronicles of ridic. So much leotard, so little time.

(photos courtesy of Ryan Beren)

bodysuit, chiffon skirt, watch: American Apparel

mary jane wedges: Urban Outfitters

boyfriend jeans, basic heels: Zara

sunglasses: Ray Ban

Five Stages of Fashion Week

in mourning

feeling blue...

I am going to be honest, I've been in a mood lately. I have had a serious case of FOMO (fear of missing out) since the onslaught of Fashion Week, because sadly my invitation to all the of the fantastic parties and fabulous fashion shows must have somehow got lost in the mail.  My poor psyche has gone through all five stages of grief while I've mourned the loss of any chance of participating in this year's NYFW. Denial and isolation were first when I entered the Nasty Gal NYFW sweepstakes thinking that was my golden ticket to the big show, but when neither I, nor my BFF, were chosen I wanted to bury my big haute hair in my bed and never come out. The anger came next and with every Instagram update or new post from my favorite fashion blogger chronicling their romp through Fashion Week wonderland I grew increasingly more emo and channeled my inner Naomi Campbell by throwing my iPhone in a fit of blind rage. During my bargaining phase I experienced the normal reaction to my feelings of helplessness and vulnerability with a desperate attempt to regain control– attending Fashion's Night Out in San Francisco.



 I suited up in my newest Zara attire and strutted my stuff to AB Shoes where my boyfriend and his sister were holding an event celebrating FNO at their Union Square shoe store. I figured if I couldn't take part in the the real thing I could re-create some of the magic in my neck of the woods, but this catapulted me into the fourth phase, depression, faster than you can say Maison Martin Margiela. Although I was surrounded by Salvatore Ferragamo and sipping champagne I was NOT in New York and NOT a part of the fashionable phenomena that was taking place on the opposite end of the country. My spirits sank quite low and I completely lost myself in a Rachel Zoe Project marathon which wasn't the best idea considering Skyler Berman had a better wardrobe than I do while in utero.

dog days

After a few days of wallowing, acceptance started to set in and with it came a new wave of inspiration. I channeled my moodiness into a positive outlet for my fashion fury, a complete submersion in the September issue of Vogue and the creation of my very first mood board! I defamed the fashion bible by cutting out my favorite looks from Valentino, Tibi, Dolce and Gabanna, and Mulberry and constructed a sartorial story of my own. Ingenuity bred of pure envy is always a recipe for success! Stay tuned for the fruits of my labor as I will be posting my interpretation of fall's best trends throughout the week.

In the Nude

Alas, my love/hate relationship with mani/pedis continues. I have had a steady stream of amazing finger paint jobs lately so it was inevitable I would encounter a less than stellar session, and last night I came face to face with one sassy sister at my fave nail salon. The bitter cold of this wintry SF summer has forced me to accept that summer has come and gone and so has the appropriateness of electric colored fingers and toes. So my Milk + partner in crime, D, and I chose fall inspired hues for our tips. D went to the dark side with a deep wine color and I decided to go grandma chic with a mauvey nude by OPI. I have been digging Rihanna's long lady-like nails lately, so I wanted to keep mine lengthy to really accentuate the Golden Girls vibe I was shooting for.  The pressure of choosing the perfect color, paired with the endless choices of nail shapes and lengths was almost too much for us to take, the only thing that could ease our anxiety was a good kiki-fest and with all that gossip comes some uncontrollable hand movements. My manicurist was none too pleased when I smudged my nail during a particularly deep and meaningful convo with D about where we would be spending our Fashion Night Out, but she really let me have it when we were discussing our mutual love for faux leather. When my ring finger twitched at the mention of my latest obsession, leather shorts, she shrieked, "Oh Honayyyyyyyyyyy! You're gonna mess up your nail again!" This scolding totally ruined the flow of the convo but luckily not my nails. They look great and will be the perfect compliment to the neutral toned duds I have picked out for FNOSF!

Silk Top: Zara

Rings: (ring finger) David Yurman, (middle) Brandy Melville (pinkie&pointer) Vintage



Big Haute Boyfriend Jeans

The funny thing about boyfriend jeans is that boyfriends, in general, do not like them. They are big, baggy and although they may be haute they aren't hot in the traditional sense. 

Boyfriend Jeans: Zara

Leather Jacket: Vintage

Tank Top: Brandy Melville

Clutch: Louis Vuitton

Shoes: Forever 21

The second I put my new Zara selvage denim boyfriend jeans on my actual boyfriend grumbled, "Awwww, where'd your butt go?".  These jeans are a woman's fantasy, they make butts disappear, and for that exact reason they are every man's nightmare. I absolutely love mine and am literally obsessed with riding 'em high and cinching them with a belt. I wore them out on Saturday for date night with my boo and although he wanted to send a search party out for my ass, he eventually warmed up to them and loved the fact that, thanks to my androgynous denim, my derriere was now a highly concealed secret only he knew the contours of. I paired my new loves with a black tank, my black leather jacket, and a chunky pair of 70's style wedges.

We chose Luella for dinner where we had amazing wine, deep conversations about Tom Hanks and after a few drinks I actually convinced Ryan that Wilson the volleyball had won best supporting actor for Castaway. I wanted to be a complete wino and subsist on my Cabernet Sauvignon for dinner, but man cannot live on wine alone and I  ended up pigging out on everything because their food is so bomb. My boyfriend jeans allowed me to indulge in some tasty eats (ricotta filled donuts with lavender honey!) without instantly popping the button off my pants and feeling stylish all the while, win-win.

Casual Friday Conundrum

Of all of life's great mysteries, none is more confusing than what to wear on casual Friday? How casual is too casual? Are these five inch Jeffrey Campbell snakeskin platforms office appropriate? Are jeggings socially acceptable as legitimate pants? This morning, like every successive Friday morning for the last year of my life, I stood in my closet paralyzed by the task of choosing my casual Friday garb. The irony of the situation is that my closet is stuffed to the brim with off-duty attire and sparse on work specific ensembles, so in theory this really shouldn’t be that difficult. I gravitated towards my favorite new Zara sweater, but it’s a bit of a sartorial mullet- business in the front, party in the back.

 
 

I am in desperate, dire need of the length in the back due to the fact that I had a mad late night craving for Annie’s shells and cheese and am really putting the seams of my dark denim jeggings to the ultimate stress test. I'm still haunted by that bunny on the box and his judging eyes.



damn you Annie and your magical crack and cheese

This hi/low knit would normally be a demure pick for me, the chest is COMPLETELY covered, but I’m not sure that this much exposed skin on the flip side is suitable for the business world. My hair, which has now morphed into a full blown hair blanket as a result of not getting cut in the last 3 months, covers most of said sexiness but I'm not taking any risks today.  My level of appropriateness in the office has been sub-par lately; yesterday I wore a chiffon shirt with a black bra underneath, enough said.