Don’t get me wrong, my dirty, smelly, Converse will always be in my closet and on my feet whenever I’m feeling extra cool, but lately, designers have made some really fabulous, really expensive (and kind of worth it) versions on the classic Chuck.
Lanvin Python Cap Toe Sneaker. Really pretty. Wear them with a white linen kaftan or anything Bottega did for Spring/Summer.
Maison Martin Margiela Line 22 Low Top Sneaker. So. Comfortable. Wear them on a plane to anywhere. 
Rag & Bone Trainer. Everything they do is gorgeous. 
n.c.d. Plims. Red. Perfect for Euro-touring.
-Isabel
Isabel and I were temporarily depressed yesterday. I came to school early intending to write a paper but ended up just browsing for new E + I content and what did I find? Barneys.com, unbeknownst to me, let’s you search for their products by color. This just made my styling job a whole lot easier. I looked for “yellow,” and I’m no longer depressed.
The best your money can buy, right here, right now:
Christian Louboutin Wedge w/ Water Snake. That’s pretty cool.
Pierre Hardy Color-Blocked Sandal. I want to get these for Isabel for her b-day.
YSL Trib. Classic made new.
All of these, and a lot more, available at www.barneys.com
-Elliot
Filed under: Hospitality
Some of my fondest memories from my childhood, adolescent, and young adult years are from The Landing in Harbour Island. I went when I was at an acceptable age to fall asleep on someone’s lap underneath the table. I went with my middle school best friend, who is still one of my adult best friends, and with my high school best friend, who is still an adult best friend. I went with my first boyfriend. I went with my second boyfriend. I spent Christmas dinner there with my entire family. I spent countless humid nights over the course of countless Spring, Fall, and Winter breaks from school there, sunburned and sneaking wine and, eventually, drinking lots of wine.
As much as I traveled with friends and family, and as young as I still am, it might seem strange, or even boring, that a restaurant on a still sleepy island is the setting I associate most with happiness, but, if you’ve been there, you might know what I’m talking about.
Not surprisingly (to readers of this blog) what I remember most about The Landing were the clothes I wore there. Or rather, the clothes that everyone wore there. I was on the island this past weekend and ran into the owner who saw my dress, a dress I purchased when I was about 15 from a shop owned by the restaurant’s terribly stylish owner. She said, “Oh! You’re wearing one of the classics.” I don’t know why, but there are “classics” that people have worn on the island, to the Landing, and I still have all of them. Here are some pieces that resemble Landing “classics.” (I scoured the internet but couldn’t find photos of any originals)
…Allegra Hicks dress
…Melissa Odabash Kaftan
…Anything by DAY Birger et Mikkelsen
-Isabel
She does look very appropriate for her setting. She looks like she likes music and fashion and is probably even really fun to be at Coachella with. But style reporting from music festivals is completely ridiculous. A risqué comment, I’m aware considering every publication has been doing, “Just In: The Best Looks from Coachella” posts with photographs of pointedly un-fashionable people like Kate Hudson (people, SHE. IS. NOT. SYLISH) wearing denim.
Most music festival attendees, if they are really there for a music festival, don’t give a sh*t what they’re wearing so the whole notion that there are trend reports about people who are A. Not trendy and B. Don’t care that they won’t ever be trendy.
The streets of any major city provide unending versions of updated style and beautiful people/trend-watching. Plus, only Kate can look like Kate, so I wouldn’t even try.
-Isabel
So I’ve had a frustrating morning. I saw a Honda Civic with a bumper sticker that said “Don’t Steal – The Government Hates Competition.” Also, this preachy vehicle was colored vomitty green which is just. so. fitting. After basically gawking for twenty minutes at the annoyance of public displays of liberalism, I finally reached the computer lab at school – where, of course, there was some punky oblivious girl listening to her iPod at way too high a volume. I believe the song was “If It’s Loving That You Want” by Rihanna. At this point I could barely contain my anger so I stepped outside and messily ravaged my corn muffin and sat on a bench. Then now there are tornado warnings and it looks like nighttime outside, which would be cool, except I am stuck in class.
Naturally, I am fantasizing about vacationing. Some time off. Freedom. I got to thinking about how funny it is that a lot of design houses make beach towels, so below I will list the perfect towel per destination:
Hermes: Good for Corsica, Cap d’Antibes, Amalfi, Ios, Capri, Tangier, Doha.
Missoni: Good for Saint Tropez, Nice, Ibiza, Bondi Beach, Ipanema.
Louis Vuitton: Good for Miami Beach, Cancun, Sharm el Sheikh, Saint Maarten.
If you need me to explain the nuances of why the aforementioned cities were selected per towel, then you have a lot of catching up to do.
-Elliot
Filed under: Hospitality
Who would have thought that after looking up flights and hotel rates everywhere from Baku, Azerbaijan to Lima, Peru to Rabat, Morocco, my heart would fall for Lake Powell…Utah?
Could this place, in all of its minimalist relaxing splendor, cure my nail-biting habit?
Could it be that something so cool exists in the U.S. of A.?
Doesn’t it look like the most incredibly soothing, disconnected place ever?
I’m not even going to bother bringing my Blackberry. That sh*t won’t work. Excuse the dreamy music in the vid.
-Elliot
Filed under: Musings
So we all know that I’m 53 years old, mentally. Physically, spatially, I am 22. Except now I have physical, horrifying proof that time – sneaky f*cker that it is – is actually passing and I need to start thinking about/overanalyzing how to prevent the worst thing bestowed upon mankind: aging.
This is my proof. It is a sad and tragic red-flag, but I’m lame, and I freaked out over it, so of course I’m telling the entire world:
Last night, under the glittery outdoor lights of Miami’s Design District, a friend was doing different model/designer runway “walks.” You know – Freja “walks” like she doesn’t want to be there, she’s so famous. Anyway, I somewhat awkwardly asked – “Can you do the Jessica Stam walk?” My friend, much younger (17), looked at me as if I’d just shot an endangered condor in the face from point blank range. Politely, he said, “er…no…I can do the Karlie Kloss though?” but secretly he was probably thinking “Who the f*ck cares about Jessica Stam?”
So this is the source from which my most recent bout of depression springs, for not only did I fail to recognize that Jessica Stam is basically no longer a model, but I also assumed my young apprentice would know her “walk” – because I knew it, and everyone my age who looked @ fashion show videos growing up knew it.
Who would have thought that model-turnover – that hyper-tidal ocean which somehow only touches Eastern Europe, the Midwest and Brazil – would be the alarm for me to wake the f*ck up. Of course a 17-year old doesn’t care about Jessica Stam, and wouldn’t ever dream of learning her walk! She’s old! But Karlie Kloss, yes, she’s relevant and fierce (he nailed her walk). Suddenly I find my coolness and understanding and youthful charm are all churned up in that outgoing tide, floating right next to the Stams and the Rhodas and the Pivovarovas of the mid-2000′s. Sad. Sad sad sad.
I’m now researching Botox pros and cons on the internet, and I’m thinking about going to see my Grandfather later. To hang out.
-Elliot
Filed under: Christian Louboutin
With the studded Louboutin jazz shoes sitting on a wall in a garden in Paris. Merci Garance.
-Isabel
Filed under: Musings
Every account, quotation, and plot-point in this post is true, having occurred just an hour ago.
Good evening E + I followers. I just left Isabel, we had some sushi in Brickell, it was great, save for our waitress/abomination named ‘Emilya’ who thinks edamame is called edaName, and who once got fired from a restaurant for accepting 4,000 dollars “to get a boob job” – true story. Emilya basically ran the dinner conversation, which included such zingers as “would you like a Yeger-bomb? It’s exclusive.” AND “I went from small town Seattle to BIG TOWN USA, but all my designer friends still live in Seattle, on like, a hill somewhere.” Oh really?
I wonder to myself about people like Emilya. For every Emilya, there are probably 1000′s more. She wants to be an “actress” – a “real” actress, mind you, not an “artificial” actress. In thinking about it now, I want to venture that by “artificial” she meant “pornographic.” Emilya was all kinds of inquisitive re: New York versus Miami. Isabel and I rolled our eyes and just nodded politely and maybe threw in an “oh yeah! you’ll totally make it there!” along the way. Poor Emilya. She only has $2000 left – she didn’t get a boob job. She fixed her Cabriolet and is thinking about driving up to Palm Beach because she heard it was “more real” than Miami.
Okay seriously, Emilya, I’m not sure what is “real” in your world. The soy-sauce stained cuticles on your strange fingers when you get home – that’s “real.” Men who will give a stranger thousands of $$$’s – rare, but “real.” Social radar that indicates when two people really don’t want to talk to you, because they are enjoying their dinner – also, very “real.” Grr.
Truth be told – Emilya was nice, just ring-the-alarm awkward and naive. The point of this post, if anything, is to illustrate that…while incredibly tragicomic, I genuinely feel for this girl. I hope she’s happy wherever she ends up. I just hope I never have to see her again.
To calm me down, I looked at Vogue covers from around the world, and found the one up top from China. Nighty night.
-Elliot
Filed under: Freja Beha Erichsen
Courtesy of photo blog Yimmy’s Yayo. Check it out for more photographs of naked models, a vintage outfit or two, some cool art photos, and if anyone can please tell me where to get this shirt, I’d be forever indebted.
-Isabel
