I sat cross-legged on a bench chugging water in London's East End and rudely asked the man to repeat himself.
"I said, you look just like a pixie," he said.
I brushed it off at the time, probably because like the ungrateful, barbaric American that I am, I spent my summer abroad at 17, not absorbing the rich cultural sights and experiences, but finding the nearest pub and staking out for 12 or so hours at a time. For some reason, although I can't even picture this man's face, his words came back to me this week. While I'm quite certain I didn't look like one then, I'm positive I'd never be mistaken for one now. Their impish, ethereal air is as far from my usual uniform as possible, but right now I'm finding florals, layering, down home and homespun irresistibly endearing. Fantasies of frolicking in prairies and living in an anthropologie catalog are calling my name.
Chalk it up to the change of seasons or the alarming fact that it's now suicide level dark at 4 pm, but after struggling for some time to find original and inspirational clothing, a swing in the complete opposite direction may lift my spirits. I can never completely abandon my influx of beloved black but I'm giddy with excitement over the delicate, feminine darlings I've spent far too long ignoring.
Here's what I'm cruising:
Copenhagen brand YDE
Anthropologie's November catalog
shopbop's 'walk in the woods' trends feature
Pretty tank
An Atticus favorite
Photos of YDE and Rebecca Taylor
No comments:
Post a Comment