five brilliant summer jackets. (men: oki-ni)

So when the tide turns and the women begin to get naked at the merest peek of the sun's rays, I think the men should oblige and add a little something extra to their ensembles. And I'm not talking the ubiquitous pastel polo that every tom, dickster and harriet is and will be sporting soon. I'd love to see a few more men in these...
(all available at the oki-ni emporium, jackets section)

This is so girl-meets-boy-girl-takes-boy's-jacket-and-they-live-happily-ever-after jacket. Seriously a pearlescent sheer jacket?? I want it.

Absolutely gorg print that would fit in both men's and women's wardrobes. I fell in love.
Darned women!! Why do we feel the need to usurp everything??
I know. I know, honey.


This quarter sleeve makes me happy.


Well, since you've seen the back, you've got to get it now. You can't not, right??

Huge lip-smacking kisses, one on each cheek.

figs: threads for threads. ties and bow ties.

I am a sucker for fashion philanthropy under the kindly umbrella of social entrepreneurship. And if it's got bows as pretty as you'll see here — notwithstanding that said bows are umm... for men — I'm all for it and will find away to partake of the prettiness. Sending up a whisper of thanks for the little man in our — my sisters and I — lives, our tween bro, who will continue to have his clothes picked out by us for a while forever. Ohh... and my imaginary future hubby!! Mwahaha.

FIGS is actually an acronym for Fashion Inspired Global Sophistication. It is the vision of Heather Hasson, whose introduction into social entrepreneurship began during college where she helped over 170 Vietnamese children attend school by providing uniforms with the proceeds from the sale of handbags. After working with Levi and Gucci, Ms Hasson has now embarked upon a decidedly chic, and yet, of course gracious undertaking with FIGS. The brand offers pretty classic — and classically pretty — ties and bow ties (for men) from the best of fabrics, Brit wool, Italian silk etc. Can I just say that I hesitate to add that "for men" part because the ties make clever accessories for women too! Who says women can't appropriate these pieces for use as belts, headbands (oh pretty pretty bows!), scarves, (brooch)pins etc. And what about achingly pretty bow bracelets?! Yes boys, we can do all of the above with your ties/bow ties. So while I've marked one or two pieces for little brother and waiting for the silk pieces to begin arriving — father can't wear wool in the tropics — I'm also... It's all going to a good cause.
Oh no, women take over everything and make it so UNmanly!!
I know.
I sympathize, but sharing is caring.

The commendable social aspect of Ms Hasson's FIGS (threads for threads) translates into the provision of a school uniform for an African child with every tie/bow tie purchase. Starting in Eastern Africa, specifically in 105 schools within Kenya and Tanzania, FIGS aims to provide school children with appropriate uniforms from the sales of its gorgeous ties. This is especially important in these areas where a child may not have adequate regular clothing, never mind uniforms; and thus may not be able to attend school without the proper uniform.
Love.

Go on. Pick a tie or two.
And share it with the women in your life.
Annndd... if she's your lover, she'll thank you by tying you up in the morning. Ha!





Chic kisses.

mr orwell.

Pleasantries.
And more pleasantries. *snickers*

I've been to London to see the Queen.

Speaking of, I'll get straight to the point, the stingray Orwells from Mr Hare in London (now available at Oki-ni and Dover St. mkt. Le sigh. Dover St!). I've been dying to write about these shoes; but, as my (paternal) grandma would say, "procrastination is the theft of time, and..." I'm just getting to it.


[A moment.]
I'm at a loss for words, really, to describe — adequately — how I feel about these shoes. First, my love for men's shoes is turning out to be something insane. The smile that forms in my eyes from glimpsing a most perfect pair arises somewhere deep inside me, a most visceral pleasurable ache. Painstakingly repressed, and thankfully too, my otherwise unbridled love affair for size enormous brogues and loafers causes me to pause at the men's dept. for unduly unbecoming amounts of time.¹

Mr Hare, the 'shoeist', as he calls himself — I respectfully offer a silent applaud — offers a bit of insight into his thinking when it comes to this shoe; as he does with all his pieces. Each shoe is named an alias, of sorts, so the Orwell is actually Mr. Orwell. Read it.

I wonder he didn't just name this pair (Mr.) Ordell...

"The line [When you absolutely, positively got to kill every motherfucker in the room. Accept no substitutes.] delivered by Samuel L Jackson as Ordell Robbie in the Tarrantino movie ‘Jackie Brown’ was the only sentence that came into my head every time I looked at the Orwell," he writes.

But, Orwell undoubtedly makes me think of the Animal Farm writer pen-named George Orwell, who was something of a democratic (revolutionary) socialist, if he was anything (other than a passionate writer). The possible irony. I imagine a man in these precious puppies running across a field of Lord knows what... *gasp!!*

He continues, "...Mr. Hare is of Jamaican decent and being such, my [Mr Hare's] night time shoes have always been top priority."
Of course, I'm immediately leaping to the conclusion that Jamaican men pride themselves in possessing fine pairs of dress shoes?! *slight, albeit ever reverential furrowing of the brows*
Really?
Really Mr Hare?? Forgive me, I can only imagine awful green and ochre-colored 'leathers' — and I use the word loosely — chosen — ditto! — to match the wearer's frightful summer suit! But then what do I know?! My perception stems from a rather vague recollection of scenes from "How Stella Got Her Groove Back" from another lifetime.²

But, all this is to say... I've summed it up quite nicely: All I want for Christmas to be on the arm of the man (naturally over 6'1, loves) sporting a pair of these shoes. Me in minimal clothing, naturally³, and what-would-be a revamped pair of this season's Balenciaga (slitted) booties (perhaps with the upper in matching stingray! umm yay!!) and the heel, a gleaming brownish steel materializing as part of the outer sole encasing bits of the rubber platform. I could make you a picture on illustrator and photoshop. I might try. Go over to at style.com and drool over this season's 'ciagas, I beg of you.





Double sugar kisses on each cheek and hugs.
It's been too long!!



Footnotes:
1. Occasionally, I've become an incongruous feature at the men's shoe dept. So of course, the sales people must make an already awkward situation just a tad more painful. "Would you like any help, Miss?" "Are you looking for a gift? For your boyfriend, perhaps?" I just need said bf to materialize and make an honest woman out of me as I continue to lie to these poor souls... "Why yes! I'm looking for something for my bf, I'll let you know if I need any help, thank you" How else could I explain my presence??
2. I've become a cynical, condescending American, when I am much better suited as an international woman of mystery. I must return to London ASAP!
3. I wouldn't want to detract from the lovely awesomeness of his/our shoes!!

a little pep in your step (boys)!

As I contemplated what'd recently caught my eye in men's fashions ― but, never really taken root in my consciousness because, well, I'm not shopping for any men! ― I exhausted my brain recalling some of the most inspiring and innovative contemporary brands/names I'd heard floating around. An hour, two crosswords and a slice of quiche later...
Nope, nothing.

You see, for 'it' to have even the slightest bit of flair for the typical gentleman, (true, even when dressing women) one has got to take one's cues, very frequently, from brazen, avant-garde designers who aren't afraid to go to extremes. Most certainly, you'll find a striking detail to make your own from the designer's seemingly Gordian, or ― *ahem* crazy absurd ― runway pieces, for instance. And yes, of its on accord, my mind was running amok with selfish desires to recreate such (essentially) male details/pieces to fit myself as a woman.

It was in this despairingly distracted state that I thought of love potion Number (N)ine. And thank the Lord for men.style.com, because I couldn't remember the designer's name, Takahiro Miyashita. Now, I know not very men ― actually, I can't even think of a single male friend ― that would look favorably at Miyashita's ensembles, well, as they appeared on the runway (pics, men.style.com). And I get it. You really don't want to look like a bleach-blond Juliette Gréco channeling a disconcerted, hallucinating Renaissance androgyne sans paint brush (this spring, left pic) or Ali Baba's step-son, reincarnated, and still running from the sharia police (fall collection). I don't want you to either.

But, let's look a little closely at the brilliance of a series of shoes Miyashita showed for this spring season. The uppers are actually made from heavy rich jacquard, the kind normally used in curtains, yep drapery! Have you seen anything like it?? I haven't, and I think it's charming. I mean, seriously, worn with a pair of your usual (ho-hum *chuckle* plain) linen shorts/trousers or sport coat/blazer ensemble say for spring, it's bound to give you a little more oomph in your step. I'd totally do a double take!! Really, let's think about it: I'm not asking you to go crazy because you'd still be in your regular (more or less presentable) clothes; your shoes would just be a little more special. *smile* (at Number (N)ine, Brownsfashion)

So I decided to search out more of such interesting (proper) shoes (brogues, oxfords etc. wait, there are only three?! shoe options for you poor, poor men!). I found some, nothing more in jacquard like I was hoping.

I showed the Martin Margiela's confetti sneakers (I h.a.t.e. sneakers), but compare it to the proper shoes (of which I'm now a huge! fan) and which I could only find on darling site, LuxuryCulture. It's exquisite decadence. The confetti pieces on both the sneakers and the proper shoes ― I think these are derbies, I can't tell the difference ― are supposed to fall off with time, carrying on the uniqueness of the shoes. Gosh I'm in love. (with shoes I can't even own! or can I?)

Shoes:
Top: Raf Simons, Colette Paris; Middle: Gucci, Saks, Neiman's, Gucci; Bottom: Sneakers: MMM, Brownsfashion, or Eluxury.




Big kisses.

B is for Bold and Berluti

Last Saturday evening, I defied the sudden onslaught of bone-chilling cold and headed to Neiman's to wish my fave Sales Associate, Bill, a happy birthday. I also figured I could pick up a dress I'd been eyeing, but that's not the point. Bill is a darling of a man.

A few bon mots with Bill and my new purchase neatly folded into my handbag, I thought I'd revel in my defiance and walk the one-stop-train-ride to the movie theatre. Only, I got there between showings and didn't feel like waiting, so I nipped in next door to my one of fave hotel-restaurants, Jer-ne, for her green salad and delish house-prepared vinaigrette. (Please don't flatter me, I'd been stuffing my face with fried foods all week. This was merely an intermission; okay, well I kinda felt sick with all the greasiness.)

Two seconds into sipping my ginger-ale, a man was settling into the table opposite mine. I looked up, and smiled mid-sip ― he was looking at me, I couldn't not smile!! My palate cleansed, I took a nice gulp of my Veuve. My new neighbor ― he couldn't have been less than fifty! ― switched seats, and leaning into my table and remarked on the seeming spectacle of my sandals (since it was getting cold outside?!); something of a compliment masked with a not so subtle curiosity. I was wearing a pair of thongs.
(Blasphemy! or not.) Please, I needed to enjoy my last moments exposing my toes. I explained my irreverent love for thong sandals even when common sense dictated otherwise.
He smiled.
I looked down at his shoes. Driving shoes. I commented on their uncomplicated reliability, and in his case, their nicely worn quality. He thought I was being smart. I wasn't. It was a compliment; but I suppose it didn't come out quite right. I attempted to clarify: I explained my passing knowledge of men's shoes gathered from my father's random pronouncements, "I won't buy another shoe for a very long time"¹ "very durable" "Bally makes very good shoes!"² "John Lobb is the oldest³ shoemaker in London, and the best!" Did I mention "very durable"?? etc etc. 

I mentioned my fave men's shoe house, Berluti, my inexplicable love for the calligraphed finish ― crude, and yet refined. The House prides itself on creating beautifully made shoes to be worn by the wearer for years, until the shoes take the very shape of the owner's feet, like a mold. Until, the shoes become worn out. Oooh, I just l.o.v.e. it.

I must have gone on and on. He chimed in, explaining a few details about men's shoes. 

We talked some more.

Some of my fave Berluti shoes...

He was an unexpected, but very companionable date.

After dinner, I thanked him and we parted ways with me smiling and thinking I really would love to shop for men's shoes. I'm bizarre, I know. I also thought,"Now I want, very terribly, these loafers (Chanel)!!" (I'd seen them earlier in the women's shoe dept.)




Salutations and kisses.



Footnotes:
1. I think I may be able to count how many time I've seen my father buy shoes on one hand.
2. This, was in response to some shoes my father bought us, his gyrls (pre-teen) as school shoes. These were very sad tan-colored mary janes with flexible soles, the shoe could practically be rolled into a ball lengthwise!! Ahh.. dear dad.
3. I'm yet to figure out if the "oldest" part is true

cheery suckers

I woke up this morning and thought, "seersucker". I don't know if I'd been subconsciously awaiting the passing of Memorial Day Weekend — which unofficially marks the start of summer (here in the US); but, it simply popped up in my head. A pleasant, billowing thought I chose to indulge. I absolutely love the airy feel of the fabric, and the casual chic simplicity a pair of shorts, say, gives off. So darling!! And sweetest serendipity! if it's a pair of shorts on a man with deliciously sculpted calves?? — cheery heaven!!¹
pic: Moschino Cheap & Chic Jacket


There is one teeny thing however — I desperately need seersucker (keeping the traditional stripy pattern) made in edgier cuts. HA!! I realize its seeming absurdity, or maybe NOT, but I think it'd be worth a try. *shy smile* I busied myself — for a full hour — searching for an out-of-the-ordinary piece. Laughable. I even looked up the history of the fabric (dork?!) so I could think up a few designers that may have worked with it; that is, excepting darling R. Lauren and the requisite pieces that turn up every time this year at Jcrew and Brooks Brothers — love, love, but... Turns out seersucker is all American!! Should have figured, but yay?! all the same. Since my search proved painfully pointless, I'm thinking I'll start with the classic pieces I already have and work something out with my tailor... Decidedly unusual (or ridiculously shorter, maybe) hemlines; outward facing zippers running through the length of a fitted skirt... I'm positively gagging for pairings with silks and chiffon² on the top; yes, nipple action is so risque, but so very appropriate for the avant-garde look I'm channelling. And certainly, print pairings. It'll require a very delicate flair but I'm up for it. *Excited*

L: Jcrew gets it right although it's still very reserved; I'm waiting a few more weeks for more pieces to hit the stores;
L ctr: Lela Rose's decadent but the classic stripes are lost;
R ctr: Moschino Cheap & Chic, cute!! but not that price tag cute.
R: Back of Moschino C & C dress. I admire the Rosella Jardini's initiative, but I think the candy-colored buttons (on the dress and jackie above) are more indicative of extreme ADHD than anything else. :(








Cheery kisses.




Footnotes:
1. Let the very delicate art of pursuing male hotties in shorts commence. *Naughty grin*
2. Not just cotton, the fabric of our lives...

Gilt Groupe: men

I've neglected my wonderful male readers who dare to love my notes because they're just as vain as I am. *giggle* The neglect continues, except that I'm posting a gilted announcement: Gilt Groupe’s Men’s Sales which will premiere on April 16th, starting with John Varvatos!! There'll be two sales a week for the guys (women get four sales a week!! ha!!). Dolce & Gabbana, Hickey and Rag & Bone sales will be coming up thereafter. I strongly advocate treating yourselves.
Here's the email/mini-press realease.
I should do a post on men's shoes :)






Friendly kisses.

matching separates

In other news, here's an entry I just decided on...
A reader, Shop.in.chic — who must be decidedly fashionable — pointed out that she loved Kai Milla's burnt orange pants from my last post. I do indeed love it too. Very much. It's a divinely sophisticated color. Refined. Cosmopolitan. It's got a certain je ne sais quoi.

Serendipity!! — I came across this men's jacket by Alessandro Dell'Acqua (Fall 2008) in an almost similar color and it's man-haute!! I'd love to watch a man as he pulls the jacket sleeves up his arms: the tracing ripple movements of his biceps beneath his shirt; adorning the jacket on his frame: the orange color (smack!!) extending a warm delight to skin, his eyes... It's just such an absolutely charming color. And the pants are divine as well; although I wouldn't suggest the high-water length except you're pretty tall. *Giggle* If the colors were exactly the same, I'd even go as far as to advocate the matching couple spectacle. You know, woman in Milla's pants and man in the Dell'Acqua. How utterly Posh and Becks and ridiculously cute??!! No?? I know you love it ;) I love it!!

Sappy. Sappy!!
It's the pathetic valentine's day bug going around. I love love. But perhaps, we going about it rather robot-like. Sermon: Love should be celebrated everyday!! And no, do NOT go out wearing red because people say you should!! How sad would you be stepping into the clichéd restaurant and everyone's wearing the same sordid color. You'd sooner end up with three other women in the same dress as yourself. Now, that would be heart-wrenching!! Love out the window!! (Sorry didn't mean to shatter your plans, but do think of the thousands of color possibilities out there :))









Sugar patchouli scents, truffles and butterfly kisses.

legal tender

I'm so glad I've got my miniscule male audience for whom to write this delicious, yet slightly troubling post. UK-based "Money" clothing, which designs casual wear *yawn* ― denim, t-shirts, jerseys/hoodies (I hate the word 'hoody') ― proposes a more serendipitous, if not stupid (forgive my brazenness) form of clothing. Cue: Its premium denim line, Money 750 which runs about $1,100 a pair, and has a $100 bill welded into its right back pocket; and its line of $750-a-pair sneakers with legal-tender $100 bills eenclosed in their transparent soles. Both monies can, of course, be removed from each clothing item with a bit of effort.

Pause.

No, it certainly doesn't make much sense. According to an article on style.com, one of the line's designers, Melvyn De Villiers, "It's not all about saying how much money we have. It's just another "fabric" we used for the collection." Fabric?? What??!! I'm dumbfounded to be honest. I don't really know how to argue "for" ― my attempt at being a reasonable individual here ― or "against" the concept. I do know, however, that any man sporting a pair of these 750 denim is just begging to have his bottom caressed not just by me, but all manners of crazies. And Lord grant me that said gentleman has a nice, firm butt underneath those pants. He's getting his butt smacked just for the potential thwack sound. Yum!!

Apparently, this money-in-the-back-pocket concept was sampled back in 2003 when the brand was launched, with $1 and $100 bill notes. Interestingly, the Money brand was actually responsible for the famed £20,000 hand-crafted Vicious belt made with three rows of 18ct gold studs, which dear rapper TI wore during his performance at the MTV Awards in 2006. The belt had been signed by the Sex Pistols. Collector's item or what??!! As part of its allure, Money incorporates 18 ct gold from London's Hatton Garden for the rivets and buttons of its 750 denim.

Say what you will, but this design philosophy simply nurtures the idea of stealing. Ha!! I mean what do you expect??!! De Villiers revealed, "In a store in Dubai, someone steamed off the notes and replaced them with photocopies, [and] in Harvey Nichols, kids were ripping the notes off, so we had to lock the jeans up in boxes." Oh really??!! True buyers, however, may profit from waiting until they're bored with their pants or truly strapped for cash before they rip out their money. Beneath the note, the word 'fallito' ― Italian for bankrupt ― is printed on the pocket. Sad. Definitely not admissible. The line will be available in the U.S. in the spring.







Tender kisses.

if you were my boyfriend

"I'm going to take you on a journey to the Far West, to a place where big, greasy hunks have big, pulsating muscles smeared in soot and sweat." (Levi's - Birth of a Legend, Derek Blasberg, 10 Magazine. Q1, 2008.)
Sounds like lyrics to a Beatles' song: mellow and cultured, yet rhythmic.

I love the word pulsating. It makes me *whispering* blush. (I'm obviously distracted.) If you know any thing else about me, save my search for the perfect pair of yellow pumps, you know I definitely wouldn't mind a big (and by big, I mean tall—6'2)¹ muscly specimen. Keep the greasiness and the sootiness.Oh, and the sweat.
Oh my...

Back to Blasberg: he traces the history of the denim in his article from its invention by immigrant Levi Strauss in 1850s California to the present day. He writes very cleverly about this universally celebrated item of clothing. It's enlightening and amusing at once.
But I digress.
I mean to reflect on the word, "pulsating."
Tch-th'p. (A more onomatopoeic version of 'thump,' in my opinion)
Tch-th'p.
Tch-th'p.
Tch-th'p. LOL
Alright... I really mean to contradict Mr. Blasberg and denounce his flawed perception of many American men I've come across. I certainly haven't met any 'big' hunks recently. Maybe, I'm not looking hard enough for these hunks. Hmmm.. I love the word 'hunk' too. And 'hung.' A nicely hung bunk. Yum. If I really did find an American² Blasberg hunk, I'd make him my boyfriend,³ then get him these sets of cufflinks.


Whimsical, yet very chic, these pairs of cufflinks made of lucite-encased South Asian beetles ($225 a pair at Takashimaya NY) were made to catch the eye. If I met a man wearing a pair of links such as these, I just might fall in love (or fuck, excusez moi, s'il vous plaît) with him.⁴ It's certainly fitting for the man who is confident enough in his style to play with elements in the few accessories afforded him. It necessitates some measure of forethought in wardrobe preparation of course. A younger Humphrey Bogart comes to mind, although you couldn't see his trinkets in color. Complementing the cufflinks' colors could prove challenging, so I'd advise plain (are there any other kinds??) collared shirt and singly-colored ties with simple, matte belt buckles and jewelry/watch that match or integrate the underlying brass shaft and hinges. Just think, whilst standing upright with your arms placed at your sides, you'd want the wrists' region—the encompassing sphere around the hands and torso—to appear coherent. Save the obnoxious bling for never.
Yes, I'm super finicky. Yes, that's why I'm single. No, I don't mind; at least not yet :).


I'd also buy my lover these modish trims by London-based Arm Revolution whose webbie launched on the 16th of November last year. I know this why?? I'd signed up to be notified when they launched, and it's two days before my baby sis' birthday :). (I knew I retained completely useless info like this for a reason.)
For the record, Arm Revolution does not make cufflinks, they design "steel arm architecture" that will run you about 700 bucks a pair. Neglecting this small issue of price, these links⁵ are, indeed, (man) haute!! The intro video on the website is hot enough to make one feel as though one is being invited to partake in some voyeuristic episode. You've got to give these revolutionary guys kudos for managing border-line soft porn to sell their trinkets. But seriously, I'm thoroughly in awe of the (manly, of course) chic simplicity of the designs. It's very understated, yet super edgy and super sleek; just like I love my men. It's no question that I'd have to keep from jumping any man sporting a pair of these pussy magnets.⁶ And because you couldn't be expected to buy arm archi** and just shut up, you are invited to register your gear, and perhaps, mingle with other douche bags men—j/k, I do love a bit of arrogance every now and then—who've registered theirs too. I guess you could possibly move on to set up a meetings with your new best buddies to discuss to the size of your stock portfolios; or dicks. I'd be keen to listen in either way. And yes, bigger is always better in both cases.







Bubblegum flavored kisses.
Your gyrlfriend.


P.S. I'm so glad I wrote something for the guys. This marks my first post installment for a section I may refer to as man chic, for lack of a better imagination at the moment.
P.P.S. I'd totally rock those cufflinks myself.

Footnotes:
1. Indeed, I'm 5'1.
2. American, only because I'm in the U.S. I don't discriminate.
3. That's just the kind of gyrl I am, I pick my boyfriends. Haha.
4. This poses a delicate situation, however: In the process of noticing his links, my eyes would undoubtedly be drawn to the man's hands. If he belongs to the class of men—I come across with alarming frequency—who are uneducated in the merits of lotion, and thus, walk around with dry ashy hands; it just wouldn't work out. This notion of men sporting wilted hands is extremely puzzling to me because I grew up with a father who regularly put lotion on his hands immediately after he washed them.
5. Sorry, I just can't keep saying arm architecture.
6. While it may seem otherwise, I'm really just a prude with awfully naughty thoughts that I usually keep to myself.