Tuesday, March 31, 2015

Off Bleeker Street

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Ganni coat // SHOP HERE
H&M sweater
Topshop necktie
Mavi skinnies // SHOP HERE
Wildfox sunnies // SHOP HERE
Koolaburra boots // SHOP HERE
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Walking through the West Village is always such a dream. And it brings back memories from my very first trip to NYC with my mom and sister when I was around 15 years old. We paid a visit to Bleeker Street nearly once a day, so I feel like I know it well. For a slice of pizza, a bite of a Magnolia cupcake, a peek into a brownstone window that led into the supreme vision of our dream apartment, the juxtapositions of bright yellow crosswalk lights and refurbished red brick buildings that endlessly inspire. The West Village is so quintessential to my idea of NYC. As if it has existed forever, and will continue to do so exactly as it is. 


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Monday, March 30, 2015

Paris Day Four // Le Marais

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Vintage bomber jacket
VEDA leather top
VEDA pants
Miista boots // SHOP SIMILAR
Velvetine leather purse
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Some purely good moments from our last day in Paris. We spent our last few hours strolling Le Marais, the most central park of Paris. We stumbled upon the Les Colonnes De Buren in the inner courtyard of the Palais Royal, which we found out later was an art installation from 1985. I love that installation kind of plays a sort of mind game when you look too hard. And I appreciate its composition of new and old. Plus, it makes for a damn good photo opp. Not gonna lie. We didn't have much time left for photos this last day in Paris (we woke up happy but hungover), so finding this gem of a shooting location just a few minutes from our hotel was just perfect. 

Saturday, March 28, 2015

A Little Bit of Velvet

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Kate Spade Saturday sweatshirt
Missguided velvet dress 
Vintage Christian Dior coat
Koolaburra boots
Wildfox sunglasses
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This could very be one of the last few "cold weather" outfit posts. Fingers crossed. After a week in Puerto Rico, there ain't no way I'm gonna to go back into the tundra. I love you velvet with all my heart, but how about the next time I see you is next winter. Not next week. 


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Tuesday, March 24, 2015

Paris Day Three // What Hemingway Said

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 Free People turtleneck
Vintage Wrangler jeans
Gola sneakers
Velvetine purse
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Photo diary from my Paris trip even though I am currently on a trip to Puerto Rico! 

“If you are lucky enough to have lived in Paris as a young man, then wherever you go for the rest of your life, it stays with you, for Paris is a moveable feast.”

- Ernest Hemingway, A Moveable Feast

I think that in a way, Hemingway was absolutely right. I've never lived in Paris, and I'm not sure that I ever will, but I know that the memories that I have made there will stick with me forever. For me the artistry that goes into the physical beauty of the city is so mind-blowing, it's impossible to not appreciate it and be marked by its existence. The curves of the architecture that have caught my breathe around every Parisian street corner will repaint themselves over and over again in my sleep at night. The narrow sidewalks that make every block seem more delicate, and that cause my steps to quicken to keep from sideswiping passerby going in the opposite direction. The consistently flat and leveled rooftops that look like a magical kingdom all of its own. That from above and afar, it feels as if you can reach out and gently lay your hand upon their surfaces and just keep it there forever. Protecting it. 

There is so much about Paris that I find myself nodding a loud yes at. And although there do exist those French people who severely dislike Americans straight off the bat, I am never one to take stereotypes seriously. We actually met some quite spectacular French human beings whom I want to steal from their country and take back to NYC with me so I can hang with them on the daily. I am paying respect to the lifestyle that includes sipping coffee and actually enjoying the smell and taste of it, as opposed to injecting ourselves with what feels like a superhuman chemical we need just for the sake to feel borderline okay with our lives. The effortless put-togetherness only the French have mastered keeps me mind boggled and totally in awe as I try to do the same as they do. Untidy hair that feels natural and sexy and nonchalant. The endless diet of bread, fruits, cheese, meat and wine. The way that "love" sounds in French and when spoken with total truth. All I can say is that I am no longer tainted by the experience of having a French man for a boss. 

I will never call you home Paris, but I sure as heck will always love the way I feel when I walk your streets, eat your food and attempt to speak your language. These photos were taken in our favorite part of the city, Montmarte. Where ex-patriots like Scott Fitzgerald and Ernest Hemingway escaped to pursue their art. How fucking romantic and brave. We walked up to the Sacre Couer, which I think is now part of our Paris tradition. This is where I envisioned the hand upon the rooftops image in my head. My mind has been in the clouds ever since.