It's Fall and I'm in love!

...with this leather jacket + bootie combination. 

 Every day is better when I look down and this is my footwear situation.
These {booties} are the greatest thing ever. Seriously, though. EVER.

Guys, it's officially FALL! I know the first day of fall was supposedly a while ago, but today is one of the the first days there are gathered leaves on the ground, it's a beautiful Chicago October, and I'm starting fall today. So obviously I just want to crawl inside the pages of Vogue and make myself at home in a Dolce & Gabbana campaign/fairytale-worthy brocades/fursandfursandfurs with a pile of doughnuts, a latte, a million pumpkin flavored things, and wear leopard print hair calf booties everyday. Because that's how everybody feels about fall. Right? Amiright??!!

I've got the booties bit down. Fursandfursandfurs, forthcoming?

I spent September distracted by the various fashion weeks' street style Instagram happenings, lavender tea, the existence of Nerds Ropes (LIFE = CHANGED), celebrating our first anniversary at work, and moving through the following stages of mourning (summer).

1. Panicking because the polar vortex is imminent.

2. Shopping for things that will make the polar vortex more bearable, such as shiny pants (oh waxed skinnies, you da best!), colorful everything, and fuzzy slippers. Or this... I really want this.

3. Preparing for the colder months by justifying the purchase of ALL of the booties, furry things, a taxidermy purse (that's another post to come...), winter boots, cozy sheepskin rugs, and piles of every Thai noodle thing. 

4. Soaking up every last warm night outside and eating way too much Halloween candy (looking at you, peanut butter Snickers, you irresistible little bastards), and wine.

5. Painting my apartment bright ass colors because HOLY GRAY WINTER, CHICAGO.

6. Getting over it because yay October/ fall fashion/ spaghetti squash/ apples/ pumpkins/ sweater weather. TIME FOR CHRISTMAS SHOPPING.

I am incredibly excited for October! It helps that the weather here in Chicago is bright and clear, and I'm super pumped because M. has agreed to dress up for Halloween this year. THIS IS A BIG DEAL, PEOPLE.

          

          

The Best Leather Jacket 

Favorite Jeans

New Favorite $10 Tee (TALL GIRLS! THIS!)

 I want to celebrate by wearing all of the lizard & leopard things and frolicking through cornfields and Maine woods. I am celebrating by getting back to the bench and making some jewelry (the best way to spend any day). Nothing more rejuvenating to the soul than sitting down and sawing and firing some metal (to emerge covered in a delicious coat of silver dust, wax, and polishing filth, with a new creation that I hopefully did not melt and can maybe bear to part with but probably not because all of the rings should be my rings...)! Sound gross? You should totally try it. Spa day for the spirit. 

Also, sometimes you end up with a necklace like this one (which is hiding somewhere beneath my jacket in these photos ^^^):

I'm obsessed, I think I need to make more of these. Antlers FTW!

These are the most comfortable shoes. I'm in love with them. I am tempted to buy another pair so that, should they perish in some tragic future, I could spare myself the turmoil of  bereavement and slip into pair #2 unfazed. I just want to curl up with them next to a warm fire-- a couple mugs of hot (spiked) apple cider at hand and a stupid amount of "Don't Trust the Bitch in Apartment 23" on Netflix. 

I'm excited to see what October brings, and to wear these shoes pretty much every day until salt and snow show up... Then I'll just wear them inside. 

Happy October, chickens!

Xo,

Ash

Lazybird Style: Vol. I

The Jumpsuit.

Running my mouth about something awesome, probably. Happy September, chickens!

Let's be real, some days you roll out of bed and want to put zero effort into your look, or you just don't have the time. This summer has been so crazy busy for me (full of great things, I'm not complaining!) the time crunch has been the case for me on plenty of occasions. My solution: I've worn easy, versatile pieces like this jumpsuit (about a zillion times). To fancypants dinners with heels and serious bling, on date night with leopard booties and a snakeskin bag, out for burgers and draanks with bright flats and a red lip. It's crazy comfortable, and it makes me feel a little bit like a disco pimp, which is obviously a plus.

Also, pockets. POCKETS ARE ALWAYS GOOD.

I was super hesitant to try out the whole jumpsuit thing. I had a German teacher in high school whose wardrobe consisted entirely of uber-tight jersey jumpsuits in quite possibly the worst patterns of all time. Props for being fashion forward, Frau! The shape of this jumpsuit feels contemporary, and it comes in various lengths-- hooray for being tall as fuck and still finding things that fit me! 

The drawstring highlights the goods, and gives a bit of extra room about the tummy, should you want it. For me, any outfit that says, "It's cool, eat all of the food, you will still be comfortable," is my friend. And after this photo was taken, I ate like three dinners. I highly recommend the practice. 

I was really surprised that wearing a jumpsuit didn't give me old lady ass. Can you tell that M. took this picture?

Red flats, rolled pant legs, and a snakeskin bag FTW. Comfy chic, ready in 5 minutes.

Also, this jumpsuit is awesome if you happen to be covered in 1,000 fucking mosquito bites (which I was, here, because yay outside...) and don't want to go out with meth-head legs. I'm happy I'll be able to transition this into fall, too. Just throw a tailored blazer over it, hop into some ankle boots, and BAM. Done. Or, two birds-- toss a bright sweater over the top and rock a pseudo harem pants look with a pointed kitten heel. The possibilities, people!

This smile is courtesy of the fact that I feel like I am wearing pajamas, AND I LOVE IT. 

Here's to easy style, a beautiful end of the summer, and the beginning of what is going to be THE GREATEST SEPTEMBER EVER. 

Xx.

-Ash

Lemonade

It's been rainy here in Chicago, meteorologists have been totally off their game (I know, I know, climate change is wacky, but I NEED YOU TO HELP ME DRESS MYSELF TOM SKILLING), and I've been struggling to deal with the fact that winter is eventually coming back to Chicago. Polar Vortex flashbacks... WHY GOD WHY.

I spent a couple of days feeling super blue about it. I always have a bit of heartache at the end of the summer season (not that it's really gone, yet)-- it's that little creeping feeling of the fun coming to an end. But really, we make our own fun, don't we? Seasons change, and especially here in Chicago, winter is going to happen (I am coming to terms with this by getting excited about furry thangs and boots, I fucking love boots. All of the boots.). So a couple of mornings ago I got up, and when I looked out the window into the gray haze/ tail of summer, I decided to make some fucking lemonade. 

This necklace is one of my favorite things (so is my back porch, and this antique oriental rug...). Instantly dresses up anything. I've worn it out dancing in Vegas, with a grey tee and jeans, to a black tie wedding, and...

When I met the monkey from The Hangover a few years back. He was really into it.
This necklace is from a zillion years ago... but this one is its beautiful bastard child. And, it's on sale through Labor Day!

I embraced my lemons. If I'm going to be a little tart about things, I might as we'll be bright fucking yellow as well... Don't ya think? I think. And the citrus bit has been one of my favorite trends this summer, after all. I love anything in fashion that demands you check your pretension at the door. Check it. 

I can't not smile when I'm wearing these! I am pocket-obsessed, too, which these are awesome for. I love when I CAN ACTUALLY PUT MY HANDS INTO POCKETS. None of this decorative coin pocket bullshit. REAL, hand-worthy pockets. It just seems to make the world turn more smoothly, you know? Pockets are some powerful shit. 

A little citrus, a little sparkle, a couple of comments from strangers/clients/passersby re: how gawdy my necklace is (I prefer the term AWESOMESAUCE) and the smile my lemons put on their faces, and voila. Lemonade!

I like my lemonade three ways: sour, alcoholic, and metaphorical. 

Summer, I hate to see you leave... But when there's fruit on your ass, I love to watch you go. 

Happy summer's end, chickens!

Xx.

Ash

The Moon Is Almost As Full As I Am.

It's a supermoon, I guess.

I just ate SO much pizza, I feel like I'm going to die. The energy today felt wacky as hell-- the whole week did, actually. I met the real life manifestation of Napoleon Dynamite (I have witnesses, it is undeniable, he's real!), I was super early to work (WHAT IS THIS HOODOO), everyone and their mother has suddenly sprung from the woodwork, and the booties I've been trying to track down for like 3 months materialized out of thin (interwebz) air. I blame (...thank?) the full moon. And now, I'm eating like a ravenous animal.


Conclusion? Turning into a Werewolf.

Obviously, you are a much cuter wolf than homeboy.

You too? It's okay! We'll get through this. I mean, being a wolf probably won't be so bad. No one will ever expect you to shave your legs, and after a short adjustment period, the fame will be the pay dirt you've been dreaming of. You'll stay nice and toasty all winter. Everyone will think you're totally edgy, because you'll be the queen of the raw food movement (granted, it's a muskrat you just killed, but whatevs...), and your outrageously lucrative talk show appearances will more than cover your expenses for the gear you'll need on full moon nights.

People will give you whatever you want all the time to avoid getting their faces eaten. Also, you can howl at shit, and no one will think its weird. You kind of have it made, if you think about it.

Just because you're a werewolf now doesn't mean you've lost your sense of style. Sure, you're a mythical creature, but that doesn't mean you have to let yourself go!

Your signature piece:

 

Boar's Tusk and Diamond Collar. Don't worry, it's only $17,200!

Hunt your own food, nothing goes to waste. Living off the land. You're a total homesteader! Rock it out, ya damn hipster.

You'll need kicks for the front paws:

I love you, Louboutin sandals.

And for the back:

I want to be friends with these.

Hello, instantly doubled shoe collection! Welcome to the pack.

You may be a really furry lady, but you're STILL a lady. So you'll need this:

I suddenly desperately need this skirt...

And up top, this:

Of course you can wear a crop top, wolfie, It's all about confidence. And it's like $30. 

Your wolf eyes may not love the daylight, so here:

Moon people shades. Dolce & Gabbana have your back.

Even though you're wearing a pimp boar's tusk, you still need some bling. Diamonds look excellent by moonlight.

You are a badass.

Half Moon Diamond Ring-- this shit was made for you.

Black Diamond & 18K Single Spine Earring. Because you're too cool to wear two.

Self portrait.

Celestial Cuff with Pyrite.

And if you're going to wear fabulous jewelry, why not just toss an excellent manicure into the mix?

Midnight and whatnot.

You'll need somewhere to stow your goods:

McQ... I want.

In your wolf purse: a chicken wing, a lint roller, and $300.

A signature fragrance to cover the, um... Fact that you're a freaking wolf (you probably smell horrible). Your musk is all your own, dear one.

This should do it:

Eau de Lune Eau de Parfum. Apparently this is what the moon smells like.

After a hard day (or night), settle in with a good read:

One of the greatest books ever. Maurice Sendak was a G.

And fall into dreaming...

My dog. I can't even deal with this.

The perfect place to rest your head.

Stay classy, and try not to eat anyone. 

XO,

Ash














Sent from my iPhone

Vacation is the greatest thing. Ever.

Travel Essentials.

Booties
Hat (with feather because YES)
Daddy's by Lindsay Hunter. Mine is signed, "Happy Birthday, ya old ass bitch!" LOVE.
Sunnies

Today, I met the first gal of the summer who looked pastier than me. Her name was Sugar, and she seemed like kind of a bitch. We may well have been the same skin tone; perhaps she a bit more yellow, and I a mite more pinkish. Sugar, for the record, is an albino alligator. And I, for the record, am on the first real vacation I’ve taken in almost two years, in the loving arms of the Zydeco-soundtracked, swamp-creature-eating, opulent  mecca that is New Orleans.  And I’ve finally gotten a little color.

I could not love this place more. I just could not. 

It’s been a busy summer, and I’ve spent most of my time indoors during daylight hours. I love the sun—LOVE IT—and not being able to get out and play (even though I love my job and I work with the greatest people ever) has been a pain in the ass.  I didn’t realize how badly I needed a vacation (a break, and a new adventure) until we arrived here in New Orleans, my fiancé and I.

Even though I’ve been daydreaming about putting my feet up on the balcony railings of our second story townhouse rental (SERIOUSLY YOU GUYS, IT’S PINK ON THE OUTSIDE AND EVERYTHING INSIDE IS GILDED AND ANTIQUE. THEY’RE GONNA HAVE TO PRY ME OUT OF HERE WITH THE JAWS OF LIFE. AND THOSE JAWS WILL BE WEARING A SWEET ASS GRILL THAT HAS NOLA BURNISHED INTO ITS SURFACE. WITH DIAMONDS.), cold glass (let’s be real—bottle!) of Sauvingon Blanc in my hand and a seven month backlog of Vogue that I’ve not had a chance to get to at my disposal, I just didn’t realize how dire the need was.  

When the door to the apartment looks like this... You know there's something good inside.

Heaven, though. Just... heaven. And everything is metallic gold. Eeverywhere. 

Now that I sit here, nested in the height of an ancient ivy-clad oak, I wonder when the last time was that I really relaxed. Like, really relaxed. I can’t remember.  

Aaahhhhh.... Finally chilling the hell out. This green juice is my attempt at detoxing. Because alcohol. A lot of it.

Now, here I am. I feel feather-light, and tension is removing itself from my body in places I didn’t even realize it could dwell. It’s fucking amazing, for serious. I’m realizing I’ve barely taken any time for myself for far too long a stretch. I’ve gotten up each day, walked the pooches, tried to make myself look presentable (even though I have overslept through 5 alarms and am in a tremendous hurry, so there’s probably mascara on my cheeks and Chihuahua hair on my pants, sorry boss lady), rushed off to work, and come home exhausted to collapse in a pile of Thai take-out and online window shopping. And also Vampire TV shows that are marketed at an age group much younger than M. and I (shut up, you like them too).

This is me getting sunburned in my lazy people romper & old-ass bandana, and hanging out with the cutest damn alligator I've ever met. Not that I've met many gators, but I loves him. I wanted to take him home. But, the whole bit about eating my Chihuahuas is not really a selling point.

Side note, M. learned how to ^instagram^ things today! Yay.

Full disclosure: I’m not wearing a bra. I’m on vacation. I don’t fucking have to. My hair is in the greatest nest of a topknot and bundled with a black bandana I’ve worn Aunt-Jemima-style for fifteen years (I say "Aunt-Jemima-style," because I really wanted her to dress me when I was a little one. So, she wins.). I’m relishing the giant black Karen Walker Sunnies that are devouring most of my face (and let’s be honest with ourselves, I have a big fucking face, so these are some impressively large shades), I am wearing the romper equivalent of sweatpants, and I’m listening to the cackling of the neighborhood hens on the sidewalk. Talking about dudes, talking about love, talking about pork rinds and where to buy weed. Oh, Chickens. And I haven’t felt this happy in nine million years. I’m thrilled to recharge, to reconnect with the awesomeness that is me when cared for, and to bring it all back home to rock out my daily responsibilities with a brighter light and a rested, sharpened mind. Also, a “tan,” which really just means a sunburn that I really enjoyed getting. I have a widow's peak tan line, which is just impressive. Sorry I’m killing you, skin cells. We’ll discuss our melanoma situation when we get to it. Just kidding. Sort of.

So this is me, imploring you all to GET THE FUCK OUT AND TAKE A GODDAMN VACATION. Do something wonderful for yourself. Go SOMEWHERE. Turn off your damn phone. Drink a Bloody Mary the size of a bowling ball (which I did, last night, from which point awesomeness ensued and I went nuts on Bourbon Street like the semi-tourist I am), pick your poison, I don’t care. Then turn your phone back on again, and try to insta-capture the drunk ass you’ve made of yourself. Good job.

Said Bloody Mary... Bigger than my face.

You’re all amazing, chickadees. Seriously, monstrously fucking rad. But you’ve got to take a little time to do you, whenever you can, or you start to disappear into the monotony of making ends meet on the daily. And, so do I. Otherwise, that remarkable, soul-stirring YOU-ness starts to fade into the walls. And we can’t have that. No, we cannot.

BOOK A FUCKING FLIGHT. Do it right now.

When I'm loving life, seems to love me back <3

Love from NOLA!

-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