The Thaw

I've been busy with all kinds of living, hibernating, and magic making. But tomorrow is the first day of Spring, and it's time to write again!

Winter, you were a crazy, wonderful, frigid ass bitch. Now gtfo, xoxo.
(It snowed 4,000 inches this day.)

The snow has melted.

Have you ever looked at a sidewalk square and thought, "this is the single greatest thing I've ever seen!"? I love it-- bootprints and gum splotches and cracks where sand peeks through -- because its appearance means the most exciting thing ever: WINTER IS FINALLY FREAKIN' OVER. Yay!

To give dues, this winter was actually  awesome. It was so full, and busy, and happy, and gray. Cold as balls, but love-filled; arctic, but impressive. It was spotted with trips down to the stunning park where M & I are going to throw a party in which we consume questionable amounts of steak and martinis and then try to dance, and also get married (OH MY GOD). Having a beautiful respite in winter, when one finds herself in a city turned charcoal-sludge-gray by its daily motion, is seriously nourishing. It's amazing to visit a place with signs of life available to peruse. I love you, eagles & trees!

What really made this winter bearable: THESE BOOTS!!!!!!
Also this winter: I developed an exclamation point overuse issue.

My other getaway: giving a tiki party for some of my very favorite people on the planet, and drinking out of pineapple cups. Which, let's be real, just because Tiki Time is over doesn't mean I have not been drinking out of them still. Can you blame me? That shit is multi-seasonal.

You guys, drinking out of these makes everything so much better. IT JUST DOES.

There were snowstorms that pounded, monolith heaps of slush formed at the roadside, about 9 billion tons of snow buried my very tiny car. The shit show that is "dibs" littered the often unsuitable parking spaces in our neck of the woods with lawn chairs, sawhorses, neon carnival toys, TVs from the early 90s, and terrifying holiday decorations. During a 19" snowfall from which we were all warned to keep indoors, we trekked to a doughnut shop and found it brimming (WINTER CAN'T STOP DOUGHNUTS). Every time I got stuck in the snow, someone stepped up to help me out. I love this city.

#chiberiaproblems

Other things that rocked this winter: my coat. I love you, coat. But not as much as I love the fact that I SAW GRASS TODAY!  I also got my hair stuck in, like, 3 trees (congratulations to anyone who witnessed this). So maybe I forgot what it's like to be tall without a hood on. I am not complaining. What's a couple of branches tangled with my dome-piece next to WINTER FOREVER?

I loved you, winter in Chicago, full of wedding-planning and working and laughing and septum-piercing and adventuring and freaking out that the snow might never go away because OHMYGAWD it kept falling, and honeymoon booking, and wine drinking, and house re-decorating, and plant not-killing (this is a really big deal!), and dreaming, and freezing, and blogging a little at work, and laughing a whole hell of a lot. But one more day in the negatives, and I would've been taking my pasty ass to Barcelona until further notice.

Places I will actually be taking my pasty ass: Puerto Rico (yay honeymoon)!!! Because rainforest. And because ocean. And more importantly, because being lazy as hell on a rooftop with M. and soaking up some much needed sunshine. 

Heelllooooo Spring!!! 

Here's to packing away the winter coats, figuring out transitional dressing, piling on the pastels, and rolling in endless meadows of glorious flowers (because that's what's going to happen now, right?). 

It's good to be back. <3

Kisses, chickens!

-Ash

Harem Pants & Elvis

The King has some words of wisdom for us, chickens. Look at Priscilla, ladies. Take a page outta her book. She's some kinda woman. Don't hate your hips, don't hide 'em. Love 'em tender!
These words are imaginary, and I made them up, but still. He'd probably say that.   

So, harem pants are one of my favorite things. I love them. I started wearing them a few years ago when I was taking yoga lessons (on an island, in a sun-filled room tucked away above the Atlantic... my college campus was unbelievable) from this dread-locked goddess who seemed to move with an impossible fluidity. Shoulders to the ground, feet to the sky, heart wide open, and the most lively excess of fabric in the crotch of her pants. I found the style enchanting. She called them by a name I can't remember, had picked them up by the armful in India, and carried them off with the perfect balance of exotic comfort and daring charm.

They've been peppering my wardrobe since then, which was maybe 4 years ago. Never at work, and often poorly received by the general public and my grandparents in specific. But this has meant, for the love of harem pants, finding fun and different ways to style them.

Elvis also approves of my blue suede shoes. I love the pop of color they add to these pants.

The other day, sunshine and beefcake fiancé in tow, I had fun pairing them with a white cami, gold belt, blue suede shoes and a blue bag. Add delicious pearl earrings, and done.

Oh, how I love them. Instant elevators. 

The greatest thing about this: the shape! I believe in curves, I believe in celebrating what I've got. And what you've got. And having finally reached a place in my life where I'm pretty happy about and comfortable with actually having hips, I'm excited to look at an image like this and think, GIRL, WORK IT, instead of, YEAH, LET'S SEE HOW WE CAN HIDE THOSE. It's liberating (so is wearing harem pants, in general). I like feeling like there's a touch of bombshell/ absence of camouflage. 

Guys, I really love these shoes. So I stare at them longingly. And everybody loves a metallic belt. Jewelry for your waist! I'm also really curious about this sidewalk, if we're being real. I can only hope this is a sign that Ninja Turtles really do exist. 

I actually wore this pair to work last week, high-waisted over a black tank, and my boss was into it (it should be mentioned that she is more stylish and fabulous than the average bear). I am super happy to be able to work them into a professional wardrobe. I'm still experimenting. And later in the day, when we realized that sitting at my desk all day with my legs bent had stretched the knees of my pants out to reveal a flappy bulge mid-leg when I stood, I discovered my new favorite faux pas: KNEE NIPPLES. It looked like my legs had sprouted udders. I proceeded to play at milking them, because why not, and I'm still laughing about it. Gross. Ha.

Apparently I can only stand in this exact pose while wearing this oufit. Later in the evening, we stumbled across a stretch of a kid's sidewalk chalk art. Good job kid. keep on coloring the world. This snake was actually kind of awesome and went on forever. And this makes me think of MC Hammer. Everybody wins!

I'll let you know if I ever figure out how to combat Knee Nipples or discover the black-tie appropriate harem pant. Anything is possible.

Work it, chickadees.

Xx.

-Ash

Just the tip...

...of the iceberg, that is. 

At the Clover Grill, preparing to tear myself away from New Orleans and hop on a plane. This shirt always puts me in a great mood. THE COLORS. 

(Just the tip! Just for a minute! Just to see how it feels!)

Because maybe it feels like 1/4 pound of pure Beef Pleasure!

Seriously, though, I'm about to get deep on your asses.

I found myself, this past week, in earshot of a statement that went something like this:

"Anyone who cares about fashion, or puts any stock in appearance, must not have much going on upstairs. You've got to be pretty shallow for that kind of thing to matter."

...and I was like, IS THIS DUDE FOR REAL?

I consequently found myself thinking, Oh dear, what a dickbag. 

This got me to wondering about the people I know-- male, female, and in between --who I count among the most stylish individuals in my life. The funny thing is, these are some of the most brilliant, thoughtful, creative, well-adjusted, remarkable people that I know. The lot of them are a drawer full of really fucking sharp knives. Or so the saying would go. 

The more I thought about these amazing human beings, who embody this accused "shallowness" with the accuracy of a fucking abyssal plane, I found myself thinking about why it is that they all might share this trait. These are artists, entrepreneurs, teachers, and stay-at-home parents. These are lawyers, students, baristas, politicos and NPO champions. These are people who think amazing thoughts, do amazing things, and in my humble opinion, help to create a reality that nourishes, nurtures, and provokes thought, all in very different ways. Also, most of them are unspeakably funny to boot. On the point of ye olde (aforementioned) bag of dicks, they could not be a farther cry from his assumption. 

Doesn't it just make you smile?

(It should be noted, perhaps, that this particular person appeared to excel in the styling of one practiced, perfectly ironic fashion. Just saying.)

If I think about this collection of people, I realize I have never actually asked them about why they find themselves in a love affair with style. If I did, I know I would get one very sassy, "I don't know what you're talking about. I'm just this naturally fucking fabulous." I would hear a lot about personal expression, identity, and creative passion. I would receive, I am certain, endless answers speaking to the human mystery of adornment and all of that. 

If I ask myself, it is simply this:

I dress for a feeling. Sometimes that feeling translates as a color; sometimes, it is a silhouette, a texture, or a print. When I see it in the mirror, it just makes sense. Sometimes that feeling is the power I seem to gain from donning a piece. Clothing (and all facets of self-adornment) can sometimes be an armor for me. Not in the sense that I am attempting to shield myself from the world, or keep myself withdrawn; rather, it is simply stepping into my day knowing that I am equipped properly for whatever battle I might face so that I may be more present (and in the mindset of kicking ass). Different days, each mood and perspective, simply require their own war paint, so to speak. I don't think I'm alone in that. 

Life feeling completely askew? It's cool. TRIBAL PATTERNS FOR EVERYONE!

This "war paint," or what have you, is done in the style of, some shit is going down with my health, and it's nothing new, and I'm okay... but it's still uncomfortable as fuck and kind of scary.

It's not that you will see me running the streets in chainmail anytime soon (though I am totally unopposed to this idea, WHAT'S UP LAYERING), it is just this: 

I have so many moving parts. If my decoration of the outside can make all of the internal gears turn a little more easily, I'm sure as fuck going to take that route. It is a kindness. And If I'm feeling peaceful, I want to paint that still bit of water all across myself. Maybe it will make someone smile. Maybe I feel connected to a sweatshirt with a doughnut on it that day, and someone is tickled enough to strike up an awesome conversation. Maybe I find within myself that I absolutely have to wear daytime sequins and hot pink cowboy boots, because, you know what? We don't have to take ourselves so seriously all the damn time. 

This is me, partying with my shit, shadows or none. 

Anyway, guy-who-made-that-comment, I would love to be able to ask this question of you. What would you say? 

Hugs, kisses, and every encouragement to wear whatever the fuck you want and do it proudly,

-Ash

Brought To You By Stripes & Moccasins.

I adore summers in Chicago. The city becomes a sticky-sweet treasure trove of sidewalk dining, street fairs, and the always exciting mystery of what season it will feel like from day to day (currently: a balmy fall day in the high 60s). Not to mention the glorious beach-lined miles of lakefront, buying armfuls of Paletas from carts, and night walks through curtains of fireflies. Of course, the ever wonderful presence of bangin' humidity as well, which I totally do not mind. But it's nice once in a while, on cooler days like today, to be able to wear jeans and let my hair down without everything sticking to me everywhere. So, I did, and:
1. Found low-key sidewalk eatery
2. Enjoyed a disgusting amount of chickpea salad and Ace pear     
    cider (Cannot eat gluten. I'm living on the edge, friends.)
3. Settled in for a couple rounds of drinks with my dude 
4. Stole all of his french fries

I love you, summer!

Rope Tee & Favorite Sunnies

This is me, falling over.

Rockstar Jeans

Sass.

Akemi in Japan Bangle

Because MOCCASINS ARE THE ONLY THING 

when I've hurt my ankle running... Knock it off, limbs!

Awesome Neutral Bag & Minnetonka Moccasins

It's fantastic to live in a place where we can walk a short distance, beside lines of trees made incredibly green by this rainy July, and end up with our happy asses at a seriously relaxing sidewalk cafe. My fiance and I-- feet up, cocktails at hand, stuffing our faces beneath the Maple growing up through the center of our table. 

Even more brilliant, while walking home-- the chanting of Buddhists, the soulful voices of a church choir flooding through chapel windows, backyard chickens, a gazillion lightning bugs, car windows down/music turned up, a million more incredibly tempting eateries and watering holes (THERE IS ALWAYS ROOM FOR A SUNDAE, MARGIE, YOU TRICK... TOO FULL, HURTS SO GOOD), the one lady in my neighborhood who is always out there hula-hooping (rock it out, girrrrl), neon murals, eight thousand wild rabbits, way-too-personal conversations falling down to the pavement from open apartment windows... And people, just relaxing, just letting themselves be in love with summer in this city, even if they're cursing its winters under their breath.

Happy Summer, Chickens!

XO,

Ash

Homegirl Can't Afford Valentino: The Rockstud Saga

I've been fantasizing about delicate vines of studded Valentino leather climbing my ankles, and I'm not ashamed to admit it. Ah, the Valentino "Rockstud" Pump. The delicious feeling of wearing them while strolling the cobblestone roadways of quaint Italian villages (to which you'd be automatically transported as soon as you put them on, and they would cause all cottage-cheese-dimpled asses to smooth into some delectable Beyonce jelly, because Valentino!) is just too fantastic... in my imagination.

Um... and yours too! Don't pretend I'm alone in this. You've seen them. Let us take a moment and revel in their glory.

The Rockstud:

*** Aaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh *** 

(That was the sound of a million angels in perfect harmony, as the sky parted and divine beings came down to sing the praises of these shoes. For real, though... I'm sure it happens. If you would like to test-drive this theory, you can purchase them here.)

Buuuut here's the deal. While I respect every bit of craftsmanship, skill, and heart that went into the creation of each pair of these obnoxiously rad shoes, the whole $1,000+ price tag isn't really happening for me right this minute. I'm saving for a wedding (WEDDINGS are the most expensive thing EVER, WTF), paying off student loans, trying to eat a lot of fruits and vegetables (WHY ARE BERRIES SO EXPENSIVE), experiencing all of the other really difficult first world problems of a Chicago Millennial, and onward. Also... I just don't want to spend that much on shoes.

Singing the same song? Well, dear chickadee, I have found us some answers.

My solution:

The Sam Edelman "Ollie"

 

 

Top-- June & Hudson

Shorts-- Zara

Sunnies-- Karen Walker

Jewels-- Sparkles Fine Jewelry

 

This shoe has all the allure of Valentino's "Rockstud", with a little less spike and a half-inch more height. If you need a little more lift, Sam's got you covered at around a tenth of the price. I purchased these recently and I am in love. Heads up: I had to size down a half size. This style is flying off the interweb shelves. You can also try to snag a pair here (on sale!!!) or here. BONUS: These are actually super comfortable! I wandered all over the place in these, in the 90 degree heat, and barely noticed I wasn't wearing flip flops. For serious. 

Other Faves:

1. The Schutz "Brenae"

I adore this take on the studded T-strap.

2. The Wild Diva Lounge "Adora"

You can also find them in Ivory here.

3. Miu Miu Studded Kitten Heel Pump

4. The Sole Society "Anneke" Pump

5. The Sole Society "Susie" Flats

And, okay, these don't look anything like the Rockstud, but they do have studs... Just because I love them:

The Kenneth Cole New York "York"

Go forth and treat thine feet.

XO,

Ash