Mmmm Couture

6.nocrop.w840.h1330I want to go to Paris. And not so I can fall in love under the Eiffel Tower, or stand in the ridic line at the Louvre to not see the Mona Lisa, or wear a dumbass beret and really scream, “HEY … I’M MURICAN!” No. I want to dive in the sea of overflowing fashion that is happening right now. I want to bathe in it. I want to be injected with it. Oh yeah …  I said it.

Ladies, New York Fashion Week is amateur hour compared to the Paris Couture shows. You don’t see the swarms of fashion bloggers from all over the country taking selfies out front of the shows. Or assholes like me who just stand out front of Lincoln Center ticketless and hoping to see a cool famous person. Nope. This is strictly for the big wigs. The people who truly respect and want to soak in every ounce of the beauty and art that these shows have to offer. I’m not hating on my fellow fashion bloggers, but even I know I don’t belong there. Some things should remain sacred, ya know?

So instead I sat on my bed last night, flipping through the slideshows on The Cut and pretending I was sitting front row next to Anna Wintour and Grace Coddington trying to act cool but secretly freaking out inside. Everything was so beautiful, so abstract, and some so simple you would sell a loved one just to hold it (trust me, I’ve contemplated it).

Life just doesn’t get any better than couture. It just doesn’t. We forget sometimes because there is truly so much crap out there. Beautiful crap … but crap. But when you see couture it just like a breath of fresh air, like “holy lord, I’m wearing trash bags and paying too much money for them. What am I doing with my life.”

I’ll let you decide which is your favorite, but I completely fell head over heals for Dior’s show and would put on one of those coats in this heatwave happily and twirl around. Hell, I would probably live in it like a cartoon character who only rocks one outfit. So if you would excuse me, I’m going to go back to daydreaming that I’m in Paris for the couture shows and not sweating on the subway with the commoners. K, bye. Now enjoy some of the pieces I’m currently drooling over.










On Aura Tout Vu


Giambattista Valli






*All photos were taken from The Cut.

And Now For Something Non-Hurricane Sandy Related …

I feel like I am breathing easy after two days of Hurricane Sandy mayhem. I hope everyone is safe, sound and dry. To those dealing with destruction and flooding … you are in my thoughts!

But in an effort to stop watching Hurricane disaster coverage, saying things like “hunker down,” “Hurricane Sandy,” “superstorm,” “wind damage,” “down trees,” and other hurricane jargon, I thought I would lighten the mood by discussing something I’ve been turning a blind eye to for years … ahem. The fact that Jessica Biel and Justin Timberlake were dating and now … married.

Apart of my hurricane survival kit was the People Magazine detailing their entire wedding. My modern-day, adult-self complimented parts of yet, while my 13-year-old self was screaming inside, “NOOOOO! WHHHHHHHHHHYYYYYY?!!?! HE LOOKED AT ME AT THE NO STRINGS ATTACH TOUR IN 2001! IT WAS SUPPOSED TO BE ME!”

So behold, my present day commentary on the wedding, versus the commentary from my 13-year-old self on the wedding.

1. Justin Serenaded Jessica as she walked down the aisle. 

2012 Me: Hmm … does this mean he is going to start singing again? Can I get this song on iTunes?

13-Year-Old Me: WHAT?! He was supposed to sing “This I Promise You,” as I walked down the aisle! Did he sing “This I Promise You,” to that skank!? He better not have!

The couple hand wrote their vows for one another.

2012 Me: Hell yes I’m writing my vows, I’m a wri-ter. It would go a little something like this: Justin … I’ve loved you since we locked eyes at the 2001 No String Attached concert in Philadelphia. Yes, I know I was all the way in the back, but I saw you checking me out in my Old Navy capris, pink tank and orange bandana in my hair, and all the way to when you brought Sexy Back. Now I’m going to need you to bring sexy back again, sweetie. More music, less movie making. Mama wants to go on tour. Kay, thanks! Love you … kisses!

13-Year-Old-Me: ::::Tears pouring down my face:::: JUUUUUSTTTTIIIIIIIIN! I just, :::balling my eyes out:::: I just love you. :::Hands on cheeks::: AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

The bride wore a custom pink Giambattista Valli couture gown. 

2012 Me: Ew. Really? You are marrying Justin Timberlake in a pink gown? What? For serious … dude was wearing a Tom Ford tux and you roll out in that monstrosity? Fun? Sure. Maybe for a dress I used to put on my Barbie’s when I was pretending to play prom. Don’t get me wrong, Giambattista Valli is a genius … but this was all wrong. It was like trying to be McQueen, but didn’t quite make it. We get it … you probably shouldn’t “wear white,” but you are marrying JT … in ITALY for Christ’s sake. Have some class, woman.

13-Year-Old Me: I would look so much hotter than you in my sparkly dress I got at Kohl’s yesterday with my Mom along with matching sparkly diamond tattoos and my platform heels from Steve Madden, okay?

Guests including close friends Jimmy Fallon, Andy Sandberg, Timbaland, and Biel’s 7th Heaven co-star Beverly Mitchell moved to an al fresco bar for cocktails and hors d’oeuvres. 

2012 Me: I wonder if Andy and Justin did “Dick in a Box”  … if this was my wedding I would have demanded it. Better yet, I would make him and Fallon do “Barry Gibb talk show” … TALKIN’ IT UP!

13-Year-Old-Me: That prude from 7th Heaven was invited but Lance, JC, Chris and Joey weren’t?! WHAT?! My mind is going to explode. JC was supposed to be best man and Lance, Chris and Joey were going to be groomsman. Seriously … this wedding is all backwards!

The newlyweds’ first dance was to Donny Hathaway’s “A Song for You”.

2012 Me: Not for nothing, but I have no idea what or who this is. Lame. Trying to be “different” are we?

13-Year-Old-Me: Umm … what? We would have danced to “I’ll Be Good for You” from No Strings Attached. Duh.

While Biel will keep her name professionally, she’s ready to be Mrs. Timberlake outside of Hollywood.

2012 Me: Really? I’ve been ready to be “Mrs. Timberlake” since 1998 while Jessica was busy playing Mary Camden. Boom.

13-Year-Old-Me: I’ve been practicing writing Kate Elizabeth Timberlake in ALL OF MY TRAPER KEEPERS! ALL OF THEM! Kate Elizabeth Concannon Timberlake. Kate Concannon Timberlake. KCT. KET. I almost have my cursive “T” down!

And there you have it folks. My 13-year-old self is a little heart-broken for numerous reasons. I suppose we’ll always have that moment in Philadelphia when he locked eyes with me all the way from the other side of the Wells Fargo Center. :::Sigh:::