currently coveting: block heel sandals

Due to a perfect one-two punch of freshly ‘cured toes and weather forecast fail, my current sedentary exercise involves rotating my noggin to my left to gaze half-longingly out a grey window interspersed with vigorous scrolling and clicking through endless pages of block heel sandals. I’ve never been one for the stiletto, as my ability to mobilize in this type of heel would be about as graceful as that of a bus-load of middle American tourists on a Sex and the City tour teetering about the jagged cobblestones of the Meatpacking District, submitting orders for Cosmos before they even reached Buddakan’s slick interior. No, the block heel embraces sensibility, versatility and a sober stride, without sacrificing prettiness (and sometimes edge). Additionally, I am much, much happier to see this now ubiquitous Isabel Marant it sandal catalogued on the blags and ‘zines than that other blasted trend (go away, wedge sneaker swamp-thing, I beg of you!).

Below, a round-up of the ones I’m craving:

block heels

1. Loeffler Randall Heddie Lucite, $325 — my favorite
2. Alexander Wang Ariel, $525
3. Topshop Nichols, $90
4. Elizabeth & James Ryann, $250
5. Miista Maggie, $158
6. Zara, $49.90
7. Miista Shona, $172
8. Chie Mihara Yves, $340
9. Kelsi Dagger Carmen, $114.99

I had fully planned on donning the above Zara pair this weekend with a pair of mom jeans. Instead, I shall don my warm socks and slicker to venture out into the Pacific Northwestern-guised afternoon to watch Gatsby, which a friend recently described as ‘a whole lotta movie’. I can’t wait to have my senses assaulted by opulent 20s frippery and sensational party numbers and glitter and flattering soft light design. Outro, friends.

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barenaked lady ankles.

Spring is finally in full effect.

This means:

a) Shoes with no socks!

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CM: posing awkwardly since 1981.
Free People top, Topshop Petite version of these Mom jeans (yeeeeah), Asos Petite leather moto jacket, IIIbeca crossbody, Shwood Oswald shades, senior citizen orthopedic-type flats


b) B gets to bust out the lightweight Paul Smith parka he waited all year to!

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c) Awe-inspiring seasonal allergens!

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d) Selfies in direct sunlight!

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e) Au revoir, winter coats!

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Ripley’s believe it or not: there are 10 coats in there. I highly recommend vacuum sealed bags for apartment living.

!!! galore!

((Cults – Go Outside))

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once more, with feeling!

Happiest of birthdays to this handsome devil.

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I’ve probably worn way more black since I met you, and that is a very, very good thing, indeed.

((Future Bible Heroes – I’m a Vampire))

32 flavors and then some

Sparkling new Dear Creatures frock? Freshly heliotroped hairs? Smells like a nameday!

32 flavors

Trente-deux, mo-fos. Consider yourself loved for letting you see me like this.

So what does it mean to me–this foray into my third multiple of eleven? At this very moment, more of the same, but that’s mostly a positive as I’m aware that I’m blessed with some pretty good shit.

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Dear Creatures Brighton dress (Dear Creatures dresses are ideal for birthdays, y’all!), ASOS Petite moto jacket, Seychelles music to my ears heels, vintage Ferragamo purse

Can I let you in on a dirty little secret, though? I, Camille M., am still ridiculously insecure at the sophisticated vintage of trente-deux. I am the greatest obstacle to myself. (This is no rarity, as most of the mind-blowingly beauteous and gifted ladies I know and love row the same boat.) In fact, the one force fielded area of my life I feel the most liberated is the one documented in this here lil’ blog: I dress up, I wear loud lipstick and sometimes loud hair. Repeat. It’s a mood ring for how I feel or wish to feel. I firmly believe in masquerades, wigs, false lashes and unapologetic birthday dresses (duh). When someone I don’t know in the corporate setting eyes me up and down with the “WTF is she wearing?” horror in their eyes, I smirk and quietly pat myself on the back for a job well done. Styling my person is the one place I do not give an eagle-soaring expletive about the opinions of others because it makes me, first and foremost, happy. So, if you’ve never met me, I might have fooled you! Because, see, if I could only figure out how to gracefully infuse this very attitude and sentiment into all other aspects of my life where the spirit of inadequacy and introversion often prevail–I might unlock the thing that truly sets me free.

</real talk> Here’s a photo of the carb blast my team at work showered upon me today. Thanks guys! My insulin spike loves you :)

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((Ani DiFranco – 32 Flavors))

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tripping daisy

tripping daisy

A prohibition era fancier’s wet dream (too much?): Carey Mulligan graces the cover of the May issue of Vogue for The Great Gatsby. I must now engage on a mission to track down my sh*t.

Image from Vogue.com

((Fats Waller – Ain’t Misbehavin’))

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better together: elvis re-nup

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Photo from our pal Jessica’s Instagram feed

Brian and I aren’t what you’d call the target psychographic, for, say, Applebee’s, Disney World and/or bottle service nightclubs, so the brassy and, shall we say ‘colorful’ city of Las Vegas, NV isn’t exactly tops on our list of leisure voyages. Thus, we’re usually pretty sheepish to tell the story of how we met in said city–at a company conference, to boot. Last week, we returned to the very site of our fateful meeting for, you guessed it, another work conference. We thought it appropriate to embrace the cheese and renew our vows seven years later, with an approximation of the King himself officiating. It turned out to be some of the most giddy merriment we’ve enjoyed in a long time. I laughed so heartily I was crying out of my left eye. (Thank gods for the best Japanese eyeliner out there). Silly or not, any reminder of the dumb luck I found myself in for having conjoined with such an awe-inspiring, protective, loyal and unconditionally loving human is a major win in my book. That’s my hunka-hunka burnin’ love.

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Photo from our pal Ting’s smartphone

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Photo from our pal Ting’s smartphone

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Photo from our pal Jessica’s Instagram feed

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Stretch hummer limos + Hustler Club ads = Klass with a capital K (photo from our pal Ting’s smartphone)

His: Adam jacket
Hers: Pearl by Georgina Chapman of Marchesa for JCPenney organza rosette dress, Rag & Bone Harrow booties, vintage Ferragamo purse

((Camille + Brian Got Married — the real wedding playlist by James  Mulry))

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jaysus.

jaysus.

Any personal past purchase remorse has been effectively cmd-z-ed.

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primaveral pipe dreaming

Apropos to this the first day of spring, Dictionary.com’s Word of the Day in my inbox this morning was primaveral, defined as “of, in, or pertaining to the early springtime.” Well, the only thing primaveral about this day is the plaintive longing we New Yorkers are harboring for this season to walk the walk already.

Nothing screams ‘vernal equinox’ about today’s get-up, either. However, I did make an attempt to update my do’s tincture with a bit of lavender. Alas, my coiffure, too, felt resistant to seasonal progress, and you can really only see it in direct sunlight.

Here it is in moderately direct sunlight:

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Kids’ Saint James Tee, vintage anchor locket

This is how I feel today. ((Blue Hawaii – Try to Be))

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special spring delivery!

My latest confections from Dear Creatures arrived today! Nothing brightens a workday quite like a crop of fresh frocks.

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Dear Creatures Spring 2013 frocks — Brighton, Constance & Logan, respectively

Check out their lovely day trippin’ spring collection!

((France Gall - Poupée de cire, poupée de son))

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shorn + tinctured.

In an attempt to shake up the teeming stagnation, ambiguity and self-faithlessness I’ve been feeling lately (quarter-life catastrophe #527 blah blah blah), I embraced spontaneity (a rarity) and got Felicity’ed. Exit: half a foot of locks. Enter: peach ends and a feeling of lightness and liberation.

Here it is with a hat on:

newhair

And without:

Photo on 2-12-13 at 11.47 AM.jpg_effected

I hope my ratings don’t drop.

Happy v-week.

Go on, just try to not strut down your own private catwalk to this song: ((Calvin Harris ft. Florence Welch – Sweet Nothing))

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