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.

cotton frocks and grey streaked locks

These past few months, I've tried to make a point not to patronize any restaurant or activity, fearing I may miss out on the variety of the city. One place I haven't been able to resist going back for more is the Brooklyn Flea Market. Chock full of housewares, vintage clothes and handmade jewels; there's nothing quite like heading over the bridge to spend the afternoon eating from food trucks and envisioning my future apartment filled with the homemade accoutrements. I can count on one hand the number of tangible things I'll be bringing home with me from the summer and two of them come from the flea market. I say tangible, because if I'm being honest with you, I'm coming home a different gal, filled to the brim with experiences and life lessons I plan on carrying with me most everywhere.

One of my most favorite purchases is this simple white dress. The dress peddler told me she found it in someone's basement in Brooklyn. I plan on giving new life to this cotton gem, resurrecting it from the depths of mildew and mire because every girl needs a capped sleeve cotton frocks for day strolling, date taking and church going. One dress. Three ways. I'll let you decide for yourself which outfit is which.

Side note: there's no hiding that grey streak now that my hair is longer. Helen Mirren, Betty White, Richard Gere, Anderson Cooper, I'm joining the club in approximately T-5 years.

photos by Nina Sacks. 

(southern) belle of the ball

I'm not at the lake or eating barbecue for Memorial Day weekend, but I think this year I wouldn't swap places with any bikini clad lady of the South. I traded in my promise of those covetable tan lines this summer. I think Chinatown has some kind of barbecue chicken concoction for the holiday weekend anyways.
My expectations have been exceeded and I really can't stop smiling. I am officially moved into my place of residence for the rest of the summer, smack dab in the middle of SoHo. My bedroom window sees intimate moments atop fire escapes and feels the rumble of the J train. I think I love New York. Just today I saw a woman dressed like Bon Jovi and a man that looked Pink—prime street style spotting. Also, girls here take the mesh bra/sheer top very seriously So many exposed chests! I guess that's trends for you.
People probably think I'm crazy with my starry-eyed grin permanently plastered where the signature ruby red solemn scowl should be. Who am I kidding? They aren't looking at me. If anything they're looking at the all the girls with see-through shirts. I don't stand out here and I think I like it that way.
I've touched an Oscar gown and Chanel pumps and now know why they cost an arm, leg and your first born's first semester of college. Designer fashion feels like baby bums and shellac manicures all rolled into never-been-worn VS lingerie. Don't picture all that in your head, just the way they feel. Work with me.
 While I won't be wearing anything of the designer variety to work, I've managed to put a few outfits together that rival the more expensive counterparts. What up Kohl's? I paired my bargain dress with  slightly edgier accessories. I know I know, I wear this vest everywhere. Get over it. Black booties, military vest and gold bangles seem to be the perfect combination to punk (still haven't been to the Met yet.) out an otherwise flirty floral ensemble.
Side note: When my roommates (six of them) saw that I was from Alabama they said they assumed I'd be the Elle Woods southern sorority belle type. I laughed because I was wearing boy clothes.

[dress-daisy fuentes, boots-h&m, vest-river island (similar), gold bangle-h&m]