I wore fake Hermès to French class today.

Today was the first day of Winter quarter at the great learning institution I attend. I have French class at 8:30 every morning, but luckily New Years fucked up my sleep schedule so much that I've been going to bed at a reasonable hour over the past couple of days. The fact I woke up at 7 today is otherwise astounding. After coffee and some breakfast, I went to my closet with France on my mind. In fact, last night I listened over and over to "La Vie En Rose" and a Lady Gaga performance in which she sings in French. Soon, I'll be one of those annoying Francophiles that only drinks black coffee and smokes imported cigarettes. I suppose that's not too far off though. Anyway, my natural tendency to choose black and a never-dying memory of a Carine Roitfeld street style photo left me with the coat, the ripped nylons, the booties. The headscarf was something I had been thinking of since the night before and for some reason I was set on it. I tried for something more playful à la Louis Vuitton bunnies or Alber Elbaz's illustrations. I love the whimsy of some French designers, like Sonia Rykiel, alongside those who are preoccupied with being chic. That creative dialogue, of sorts, provides me a very interesting impression of what Paris is really like. And, I suppose, outfit inspiration, which is obviously of the highest importance.




BB Dakota Coat, thrifted scarf, drug store nylons, Banana Republic Booties, (barely visible) J.Crew button-up

I can only blame my own laziness for the grainy—and mildly comical— cellphone photos. My digital is without batteries and I lack a live-in camera-savvy boyfriend like Rumi or Susie Bubble. Taking pictures of yourself is frustrating. And quite strange, I suppose. In any case, I'd rather embarrass myself with terrible photos rendered in a MySpace-like fashion than not post at all. Resolutions.