It pleases me

Silhouettes so nice.  Sweatpants are classy.  Quiltwork comforts.  And a popping palette.

(Isabel Marant and the Sartorialists’s capture)

UPDATE:  Encountered huge repository of Isabel Marant on van Oldenbarneveltstraat in Rotterdam.  I hear it’s the biggest flagship outside of Paris.  !!  Broke my heart that I’m broke.

The deep corner

(Photo by Anneè Olofsson)

I want to lose myself in floral wallpaper.

Small curious

I was totally addicted to ANTM last season (this cycle is a total bore) and was rooting for Anya until the bitter end where in the finale, she was robbed of the crowning title.  I think of all the seasons, she was my favourite and took amazing pictures.  People wonder what happens to those contestants in the afterlife, and I’ve seen cycle 9 winner Saleisha and now Anya pop up as models for the Gilt Groupe sales.  So there you have it, breaking news of the day…btw if anyone wants an invite to GG, let me know.  I’ve missed out on some sweet cheap cheap stuff and some sales are pretty good.

The night wept

Little Joseph and Factory by Czech designer Maxim Velcovsky.  A row of babyheads is just what my dinner table needs.

A place for dreamers

Yes yes yes to Minimarket’s Hot Hood Jacket.  How often do you buy a winter coat?  I think my current one has lasted about three deep winters and is starting to get tattered.  The lining is torn and raggedy, so I think once in 4-5 years is totally okay.  Investment piece….yes.

In Season

APC inseason has descended upon us.

Otto von Quast

Otto von Quast reminds me to eat my fruits and vegetables, mind my peas and q’s, drive safe and take loving care of pets.

From Russia with love

(Photo Fad Tony)

I can’t remember who this is, but I think she is a Russian former ballet dancer who I’ve seen before in Vogue’s style profile column. She has the most eclectic style, very unique, colourful, multifaceted.

First birthday

Mr. Ed, aka Edouard, Eddy, etc. was most likely born a year ago.  We love him to death and is so smart he instinctively knows to use the shower as a toilet.  Happy birthday Eddy!  May your luscious mohawk and trademark lambchops grow fuller with every year.

Amazing grace

It took quite some time to realize that I am not always a size 7. When growing up, my mum would always make me buy shoes half (sometimes a full) size larger because, ‘you’ll grow into them.’ I never grew much past the age of 12/13 so I was constantly flopping around in shoes pathetically too big. Instead of learning the value of the the right sized shoe, I regressed into buying shoes that were often too small. Whether it was a pair of astonishingly unique made-in-italy vintage wedges or an amazing bargain in the last size, I would find a way to cram my feet into them and pathologically deny they were not meant to be.

It therefore became a challenge to somehow manage to walk in shoes too small. Over the years I finely tuned the art of moulding a shoe to the exact shape of my feet, and I speak of this now as I am stubbornly stretching out a pair of Isabel Marant derbys. They are a French 37, and I unfortunately am not. But thanks to a little bit of determination, strange techniques and a few tools, my shoes seem now cobbled as if they were made to measure.

Tips:
Cadillac shoe stretch -Smells like rubbing alcohol and definitely flammable; stick with it and you’ll be quite thankful in the end. I’ve gone through bottles, thoroughly dousing the inside and outside of shoes as well as soaking the thickest sock I can find in it, jamming my foot in and bearing the pain for a half day -or until dry. Waiting until the shoe is dry is key since this will ensure a more lasting stretch. If the discomfort is too great, get some shoe stretchers a bit bigger than your foot to take its place.
Thick socks
A variety of insoles -full, half, front, back, etc.
Wear them in the shower -old school crazy cowboy technique. Breaks them in nice and good.
A broomstick -take the rounded end and massage the damp upper into desired shape. I use tons of force to tenderize the leather.
A moderate pain threshold

I feel like I have legitimately challenged the laws of physics when I have successfully stretched a pair of shoes to fit. So smug and victorious.

Sometimes miracles can’t be performed, however, and one can only take consolation in the fact that someone, hopefully a good friend with more petite feet, can enjoy them.

For the most part I’ve learned that being sensible with sizing is in my favour, but my Marants, once nearly impossible to taken even a short stroll in, are now a strong candidate for long walks in the lowlands.  Next up, Louboutins.