Why oh why is the Birkenstock "back"?
One: I'm digging my literal and proverbial heels in. This declaration that "the Birkenstock is back!" has a strong foundation, no doubt: Vogue magazine and more predictably, Man Repeller, are all aboard the long black train that's barreling unwelcomed into my fashion periphery. But I mean, guys - along with overalls, "investment" Beanie Babies, and Zac Morris boning his boss' daughter at Desert Sands Resort, some things, while great in the 90's - are best left there. Okay, so the photo here is super chic. But I'm not still not on board with what's going on below the ankle, and I never will be.
Two: Since we're talking about Man Repeller, her blog brought to my attention a twitter feed that is so on-point, I'm slightly ashamed I didn't think of it first: @fashionxblogger. Brilliant. Funny. And relevant to the discussion that seems to be prevalent among my more fashion-aware friends lately, which is that "fashion blogger" has become a look and an identity - much to our chagrin. It's over-saturation is something that whoever the delightful soul is behind this account has tapped into perfectly.
Save the ages of these women, you can't tell if this is an 80's, 90's, or 00's French Vogue cover, and I love that.
Bouncing off of that complaint, I would like to make another declaration: I am never going to be a "fashionista." That particular f-word literally curdles my blood. I will never rock a Rockstud. I will never wear neon jewelry or t-shirts that say things like "RADARTE." I won't be engaging in nail art or ombré hair. To me, most of that is the sartorial equivalent of a "Keep Calm and Carry On" poster. It just isn't me. And that isn't to say it isn't cute on other girls (I love a Rockstud, but it's kinda 2014's Reva), I am just so much happier with the idea of looking at photos from something like the pages of Claiborne Swanson Frank's American Beauty for queues than to the blogosphere.
All hail The LSD.
Classic style will always endure. Nobody looks bad in blue jeans, cashmere, a tailored coat, or a crisp shirt, and while I am sure that everyone gets a kick out of ballet flats with cat faces on them, I'm not sure the gal so bravely sporting them isn't going to wince when she googles herself in five years. It's my opinion that the same attention to detail is better rewarded when it's in the artful split on a Carven sweater (above) than in an animal motif.
Le Chameau boots and a spaniel, just as much at home in the sporting South as it is on the Duchess of Cambridge - in any decade.
What happened to the overall prevalence of tailored and elegant? It's still around and much aspired-to, of course, well represented by the likes of Lauren Santo Domingo and Kate Middleton - but where did it get lost in translation when it mutated and emerged in blogland? Maybe I'm just a grumpy old lady - a crusty early-era blogging relic - but damn, y'all. If I see one more repinned fingernail painted like a monkey face, I'm going to go bananas.
Shop my personal classics...
Shop my personal classics...