east village uniform

afterlight

You couldn't rip these $20, Forever21 jeans away from me if your life depended on it. They're perfect and comfortable and I don't  have to unbutton the top button after a large meal. Boyfriend jeans are a way of life, one that says "I know my backside is unflatteringly flat and it looks like I have cankles, but those are the kinds of things I can forgo when I want to look slouchy-chic and don't want seam lines embedded in my skin when I take them off." Boyfriend jeans don't care if you don't have a boyfriend and you bought them at a teen wholesale store. They're the IDGAF of jeans, they're the pair-me-with-sexy-sandals-to-create-an-ironic-dichotomy-jeans and they're here to stay for every season. I just decided.

Halfway through this post I realized I already wrote an ode to these jeans, but I guess I'll keep going to show you I'm not a quitter. Here is my summer interpretation in which I add a breezy button-down and sleek sandals to up the down-town chic factor, but I also wear them with muscle tees and Birkenstocks; so don't be fooled.

New York's still beautiful, if you were wondering. I've been spending a lot of my time in the East Village with my soon-to-be roommates and I can't help but take fashion inspiration from the silent fashionistas that seem to always have their nose in their phones. This trait helps me to look a few seconds longer without feeling intrusive. This down-town chic is a mix of neutral cropped sweaters and frayed denim, platform sandals and textures hair-dos. I'd be lying if I told you my hair wasn't an attempt at the perfectly undone look the ladies of downtown sport.

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Thanks, Mazie for the photos.

 

both

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"Let me be ragged or well dressed."

How about both? You can't often have it all; or be it all, but you can wear it all. 2013 has been the year of sparkle. I don't particularly have a penchant for ball gowns and tiaras—as I am usually struggling to maintain a feminine flair when dressing myself. But if it's covered in sparkles, you better believe I will snatch it up to fight its perverbial princess qualties; pairing it with something distressed or denim. Sequined pocket? Gotta have it. Shiny palazzopant? Need it. Full-length embellished mermaid skirt? Are you kidding? The fight is on.

These days I find myself reflecting on the life changes ahead and closing the college chapter of life. I know this is kind corny and trite, but this outfit embodies my blogs title rather perfectly. With reflection comes nostalgia I suppose.

Are you allowed to wear these kinds of light-catching ensembles on weekdays after age 22? Are sequins commonplace in the work place? Probably not, but I'm determined. This pairing of denim, lace-up boots and the perfect cream-colored cable-knit works to subdue the BCBG held captive in the sequined maxi, by playing up the Ralph Lauren in the textured counterparts—both ragged and well dressed.

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[sweater-gap, vest-forever21, skirt-anthropologie, boots-gianna bini (old), bag-rebecca minkoff, lips-nars shanghai express]
Thank you, Daniel for the photos.
Thank you, Marc for the book.

it's not goodbye, it's see ya later.

It was the summer I ruined a $5,000 dress. The summer I had a noticeable southern accent and Jewish roommates; the summer of sweaty errand running and a cool 63 degree window AC. The summer I read Lolita and lived the real life Tree Grows in Brooklyn; the summer that tasted like Brooklyn Lager, St. Germain and unsweet tea; the summer filled to the brim with late night city strolls and too many ice cream runs; the summer of growth and self discovery, challenged faith and questioned motives; the church on Mulberry, the grocery store on Prince and the cupcakes next door; the summer with new friends, passionate strangers, lost connections and forever acquaintances. It was the summer my hair grew out; the summer I discovered true beauty and how to be me. They say the best is always the most recent, but I'm not quite sure what could top the summer spent on Broome Street. The summer of 21 is one I'll never forget.

 
 I'll be back sweet city, don't worry.
 [jacket-ragged priest, pants-madewell (old), shoes-manolo blahnik]

Thank you so much, Ali for dressing me, letting me borrow your beautiful shoes and taking these awesome photos. We decided I looked Greaser-chic with my slicked back hair, white tee and denim jacket. I always identified more with Ponyboy, but this Johnny look suits me well—if Johnny didn't die and wore sequin harem pants.