Zara Two-Piece Jumpsuit; Iro Boots; Cloverpost Earrings
If you've been reading here awhile, you are aware that it takes a LOT to get me dressed, and even more to get me dressed up. If pressed to the extreme by my job requirements or by Francesca, I will, but I won't like it. If, however, I am permitted to wear what amounts to a pair of sparkly pajamas and call it "dressing up," well, then...fine.
Where I wore this particular outfit:
Sunday Somewhere Sunglasses | Rothy's Flats c/o | Cloverpost Hoops | Tiny Tags Necklace
Howwwww did I not know about these shoes? Seriously: it makes no sense. They are perfect in every way, and are in every way exactly what I'm always looking for, and it appears that everyone in the world except for me already knew about them.
My personal discovery came courtesy of my friend Tia. When she was visiting the other week she showed me her (adorable, pointy-but-not-too-pointy, toe-cleavage-y-but-not-too-toe-cleavagey, and, ahem, camo-print) flats, and told me that I needed to a) own them, and then b) write about them. Because Tia is all kinds of smart, it is generally a good idea to listen to her, and so?
You should own these, I think.
I have a thing for sunglasses. We know this. I also have a thing for glasses-glasses - I even went on a full-on mission to track down the glasses Ali Wong wears in her HBO special (it took ages. It was totally worth it).
The problem is that sometimes my thing for sunglasses and my thing for glasses are at odds, because from time to time I am both in the sun, and also in the mood to see. I've thought about picking up a pair of transitional lenses - you know, the ones that turn into sunglasses when you're outdoors? - but another thing I am is very picky, and I've never found a pair that I loved both as sunglasses and as glasses. They feel like separate style categories to me.
God I hate my feet. No matter how much I coddle them and coat them in layer after layer of Vaseline and foot acid and Saran Wrap and whatever else on the planet I can find to make them less hideous than they naturally choose to be, they are the Titanic.
I can initiate all the emergency procedures I like, but these puppies are going DOWN.
Yoga is basically saving my life lately, but there is one sad side effect involved: I spend a lot of time every week staring at my feet, and worrying that other people are staring at them, too (and being grievously offended by them, thereby disrupting their own namaste and such). So I've majorly upped my Vaseline/foot acid/Saran Wrap game...but have also decided that really, the best solution is to just hide the damn things.
Yesterday I wrote about the ballet flats that Francesca convinced me to buy (whereupon she FAILED ME by telling me to buy a size too small...and then, annoyingly, reversed said fail by reminding me that I know how to stretch out leather shoes in a pinch, thereby simply expediting what happens to ballet flats anyway, which is why you should, in fact, buy them a touch too small).
And now I'm going to tell you about the shoes themselves, because they're phenomenal.
Before we begin: I am not a ballet flat person. I feel like ballet flat people are sylphlike and graceful and Audrey Hepburn-ish, and I am none of those things. Whenever I try on ballet flats, I feel like I'm playing dress-up, and not in a good way; in a 37-year-old-wearing-my-daughter's-clothing kind of way.
