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

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