Tuesday, September 23, 2014

Found and Worn: Tibi Fall Staples

 
    Start infusing everything with apple, pumpkin, and spice, because I feel the fall approaching already, ya'll.
Fall: it's tangible...and apparently, wearable, drinkable and edible. 


    It's cooling down here in New York City, and you know, I'm not sure how I feel about this. Actually, I am loving it. I'm no longer melting, makeup everywhere, damp and frizzy hair matted to face and generally feeling like that hour it took me to get ready was completely in vain. Showers in the summer...who needs them? But, this transitional weather also comes with the realization that summer really and truly is coming to a close. I didn't even make it to Rockaway Beach this year with everyone! Whaaaaat? I still had things to do, places to see that were all on the unofficial "summer bucket list." I can never do it all!

    I suppose I'll just begin my list for fall, and that includes a trip upstate to Bear Mountain and the state park, Hudson Valley antiquing, brisk hikes, Blanche (the fox child) roadtrips, bed and breakfasts, foliage sightseeing, winery tours on Long Island, + more. Much more. Whoa, I need to start...now. Those were just off the top of my head. I'm an overachiever, I guess. When it comes to leisure and extracurricular activities, MVP, I like to think.



    Last month, my mother and I took our very first mother/daughter trip in about ten years. That's pretty wild, considering we're extremely close and travel often. But, we haven't actually both traveled somewhere together for a getaway just the two of us. A childhood friend of mine was getting married in Sea Island, Georgia, and an entire weekend of fabulous food, events, and reunions by the beach had been planned. Every single detail was top-notch, but I didn't expect anything less. What better excuse than holy matrimony to bring together a hundred and fifty people from around the country to an oceanside destination?



    And, even more so, this occasion allowed Mom and I to have a weekend dedicated to the two of us. We missed the rest of the family, but hey, it felt so wonderful to be selfish and have Mom allllllllll to myself. We laughed, danced--well, I really just shuffled due to my bum knee from last month's injury [see photos below for THE swollen knee], drank wine, and so forth, but the highlights of the trip were simple: conversation and time. I miss my mother when she's away. That's often, unfortunately. I'm in my late twenties, and I can freely admit this. I need that lady desperately, and (not to sound too sentimental), but I'm lucky to have a mother who is my best friend and sounding board, even when we do not see eye-to-eye (This definitely happens), or we have differing views on anything from nail polish colors to social issues...which she verbalizes. We're far from perfect. We don't strive to be. She supports me nonetheless, and that's the kind of honest yet unconditional love and respect that I wouldn't trade for...anything. I wouldn't have blamed her for completely disowning me after the stunts that I pulled throughout those wild-child years. And, might still pull on occasion. All in good, clean fun these days, of course! Wink. So, bless her soul for agreeing to accompany me to this wedding as my date. I couldn't have asked for more. The woman also has dance moves--total package.

That's the extremely talented band, not my mother on stage, breaking it down. You know, in case you were wondering. 

    In between evening toasts to the gorgeous couple, bingo at the beach club, and outdoor dinners on the water, Mom and I (of course) found ourselves wandering the island, relaxing, trying new restaurants and...shopping. OK, we were shopping a significant amount. And you ask where I inherited this from? Look no further! While perusing beach boutiques and novelty shops, we stumbled upon St. Simon Island's Tibi, which usually delivers both trends and classics. I had no clue that this Tibi store was in actuality, an outlet. Even better, right?! I definitely restrained myself even though their prices varied from typical sale range to absolutely absurd. But, I wanted to go HARD. I hit it strongly instead.

Although I wanted to lose myself in a sea of clothing and accessories with no regard to future finances, I kept it together. It was a little hazy, but when the fog cleared, I emerged with four Tibi items that were going to transition my wardrobe from summer to fall:

-A sharp low-to-high white blazer (tuxedo-style in the front with back cutout)
-Leather and knit moto jacket
-Black crocodile loafer-heel slingbacks
-Black and white printed loafer-heel slingbacks

 I chose two pieces of outerwear as well as two identical pairs of shoes in different finishes. This girl adores a structured jacket and obviously, leather. We're heading into leather weather, and that makes most New Yorkers immensely and deliriously drunk with excitement. Additionally, I live in loafers. I wear them almost every single day here, roaming the city. Add a heel? I'm in. The result is a collision between two beautifully fashionable worlds. 


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    So, I kept my finds in the black, white, and grey color zones, but they're each anything but boring. Although considered staples (to me), every item possesses a unique detail, setting it apart from similar styles. Texture, quality, and cut solidified these four items as "need-to-haves."

    I decided to style two similarly easy, casual outfits, utilizing these key pieces. I paired the jacket and the blazer with the heels and just added a pair of loose boyfriend jeans with a printed tee. Like I said, easy and casual. No over-thinking. The outerwear was light enough yet added just the right amount of comfortable, non-bulky warmth. You can dress-up each of these items up with a maxi, tuxedo pants, and/or accessories, but I chose to showcase just how simple it would be to create go-to looks for fall days or nights with items that I favor and keep in heavy rotation.

Look One:
White, bright, and polished 
Forget what you think you know about white. It's year-round now! And, if the New York Fashion Week shows I attended two weeks ago were any indication of this color's future, I'd say that it's going to continue burning that white heat. All-white everything was everywhere. I love white ON white, so I opted for a white Miu Miu printed artsy tee beneath the blazer and grabbed the black&white printed loafer-heels.

By the wayyyyy, check out the back of this blazer! Digging the peek-a-boo cutout, eh? 

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Blazer: Tibi, Similar HERE +more below// Tee: Miu Miu via Tokyo Joe// Jeans: BDG Boyfriend Slim via Urban Outfitters// Heels: Tibi

More Blazers:



Look Two:
Going darker, rugged and rockin'
This particular motorcycle jacket is composed of a leather vest with knit, grey blend sleeves. It's ridiculously cozy and comfortable. They smallest size they carried was XS, and it still ran rather large. I went for it anyway. Whatever--I don't mind a little excess in my jackets. I swapped a black studded "rocker mouth" tee in place of the white abstract and did the same with the loafers. Make them black and crocodile embossed. ANYTHING in crocodile. Grabbing my favorite accessory, a hat, and in this case, a burgundy beanie by David & Young (OBSESSED with their hats & accessories!), I was ready in five minutes. Again, you can't miss the fat knee in these ripped jeans. At least, I wasn't wearing my knee brace! 


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Moto jacket: Tibi// Tee: Embellished mouth print tee (No label) //Jeans: BDG Boyfriend Slim via Urban Outfitters// Hat: D&Y// Heels: Tibi

More Moto:



Now, I'm leaving you to knock a few to-do's off of my new fall bucket list. So long, summer. Find me in a scarf and a cute hat any 'ole breezy day. 

P.S. I'll be behind the wheel with Blanche navigating in shotgun as of tomorrow...
heading north. Say a prayer, send positivity, chant, what have you. We'll need it!
Follow us on instagram, in case we have cell phone service up on the mountain or down in the valley-
@olivia_isthatgirl


Friday, September 12, 2014

12.



    This is the evening of September 12th. 


    When I hear "September 12th," my brain immediately whispers, "It's the day AFTER September 11th." Yeah, yeah, they're numbers, dates. I got it. Two comes after one. Three's after two. 47 follows 46. 400 million and forty-three comes after 400 million and forty-two.

It's numerical. I went to kindergarten, I understand. My brain can comprehend this sequence.

    We usually remember the dates of important events or achievements in this manner. Chronology. A way to organize the passage of time in the order of occurrence. My favorites, personally, I see their representative numbers and associate the two together, particularly Christmas, 25 with the 25th, and my birthday, 30 with the 30th. I know those dates. These are affiliated with previously created and stored emotions, senses, and experiences that are predominately positive and memorable. The day that follows, well, it simply becomes the day AFTER this or that "thing" occurred. Its level of importance can hardly be compared to the previous "it" day.

Trumping these, though, is a date, a number, that will always induce an even stronger memory, something burned into my brain and body. Into all of our memories.

11.
Eleven.
September the 11th.
September. THE. eleventh. 



Anger. Fear. Despair. Heartbreak. Sadness. Pain. More anger. Vengeance. Hatred. Nostalgia. Confusion. Disgust. Exhaustion. Depression. Death. Injury.


We all understand and identify with these words.

I can't truly say anything original. There's nothing that hasn't already been spoken or written about this subject and done so more eloquently by someone much more introspective than me. I instead preferred to spend yesterday, THE day, mostly in silence, in reverence of the sheer magnitude of IT.  Thoughts churned and rolled over, steamrolling most of my New York Fashion Week musings. The events. My own mortality. What's happened since that day 13 years ago. What's to come. 


 
    We all generally, usually, feel something as an automatic response to hearing this date mentioned. For me, when the term "the eleventh" is utilized, in any capacity, in any sort of reference to any particular thing or person, my brain connects this, even if just at first, with the al-Qaeda terrorist attacks on the United States. In about a fourth of a second. If that.

    Consider the power of association. Yesterday, the 11th, is a designated day that we all grieve, mull over, cite as a reason to be thankful for what we do currently have, and most importantly, remember. Ah, yes. Everyone's "remembering." But, come on. Who are we all kidding? We all remember. Those of us who had reached an age, state, or point where we could form memories, at least. We may not all have understood at how how these events and how this date would shape our lives moving forward. We couldn't have. We don't  and won't forget. 

    The future was uncertain, but most of us couldn't deny the fact that our country, the world, and history for that matter, would never be the same as they had been one day before on September 10th. This would go down, September 11th, as the day that the United States had been attacked on its own soil by individuals, supposedly human beings, who were active in a terrorist group by the name of al-Qaeda.

Plane. Crash. World Trade Center north tower hit. Confusion. World Trade Center south tower hit. Allegations. Weapons. Pentagon hit. Fires. Smoke billowing. Iconic images. Burning. The frantic voices of on-scene news reporters. Flight 93 rebels. Fighting. Crash into Pennsylvania farmland. Planes are Weapons. Failed attack. Screaming. More images. Falling. Crashing. Ash. Smoke. Rubble. Screaming. Another. Falling. Crashing. Running. Firemen. Sirens. Policemen. Mob scene. Digging. Crying. Missing posters. More digging. Sirens. Digging. Digging. Crying. 

American flags. 


    And, those aren't even the memories from first-hand accounts here in New York City. I can't really explore this in any more detail. There isn't a reason, really. I wasn't here. I didn't smell it, hear it, and see it. I didn't feel the ash on my skin. I didn't run. It's painful, and there is far more to that day than I could ever research, write about, explain, and quote here. I have no desire to, in fact. That's not the aim for this rambling post that I'm currently writing. But, I do reside here. I'm a resident of New York City. I have been for quite some time now. And, I can tell you that New York has an entirely unique perspective. If you weren't here, you will, no matter what, have a very different, almost diluted version of what you've read, seen, and heard. It was different here. It still is different here. That's an understatement. Although this city and its people are resilient, we've changed. But also, strengthened. A common empathy exists here. There's an unspoken bond, a kindness, a softening of the edges. A knowing wink and a handshake.



The 11th. 
That was THE day. 

    THE day our lives changed forever. Everyone's. Every human being that is walking around right now and every single human being who will be born into this world. On this 13th anniversary of that very day, just like every anniversary, New York City talks a little softer. A little slower. Walks a little more patiently. Screams a little less. Honks a little more sparingly.

Today, though, is the 12th. 
The day AFTER. 

When discussing this "event," this national tragedy, I think it's appropriate to say that the day AFTER is equally if not more important to "NEVER FORGET."

September 12th: 
THE day to "ALWAYS REMEMBER," is what I'm beginning to believe in.

    The number "12," although not typically associated with the attacks, seems to be even more necessary for us to hold onto. It's the day AFTER, and although the dust was settling, we were here. We may have been beaten up, bloody & dusty, and fucking mad as hell, miserable as hell, confused as hell,  devastated as hell, and everything in between.

On the 12th, though, the day that follows the 11th, we stood united. United people joined together by our sheer humanity. We all felt something then and there, wherever our feet were planted.

The unthinkable occurred to the unsinkable, or so many of us assumed. Or hoped. 

But, faced with our own mortality, this nation, which had been brought to its knees on the 11th, stood up on the 12th.

Injured but not broken beyond repair. Fouled but not defeated. 
This is to you, 12. 
1+2 never looked quite so regal. 


12.



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