style icon: Wes Anderson

when somebody's style is distinctive enough to be mocked and parodied, it always gets extra points from me. 

interviewers delight in describing his outfits, like this Guardian journalist whose account of a meeting with Anderson contains phrases like "He crosses and uncrosses his legs, clad in his trademark clay-coloured corduroy, strokes his clean-shaven chin and runs his hands through his mousey bob." and "...he admits, shifting in his chair and adjusting the over-sized lapel of his pale blue striped shirt."

a while ago someone opined that it's impossible to pull off a white suit without looking like a Columbian mafia lord, and i sort of agreed. but doesn't Wes wear it well?

socks!

i'll dress as Wes Anderson for the next Halloween party, shall I? and i'll enjoy it so much that i'll start sporting the get-up daily. 

purple pants

last fall, when I was grieving after my deceased dark blue skinny jeans, I reluctantly picked up a pair of purple pants for something ridiculous like 5 euros, while shopping for groceries. it was the last pair, just lying there. my size, too. since gray was my new black at the time, I thought the splash of purple would fit in nicely. predictably, that pairing became very boring very soon. here's m. brainstorming for the benefit of her purple pants:

purple pants 5 by mariamariam featuring a green army jacket

purple pants 4 by mariamariam featuring slipper shoes

purple pants 3 by mariamariam featuring oxford shoes

purple pants 2 by mariamariam featuring crochet handbags

purple pants 1 by mariamariam featuring bright skinny jeans

oh, did I mention I got a polyvore account?

m takes a day off

8th of March 2012 by mariamariam featuring green handbags

on daring to wear and tear

Ode To My Socks (Pablo Neruda)

Mara Mori brought me
a pair of socks
which she knitted herself
with her sheepherder's hands,
two socks as soft as rabbits.
I slipped my feet into them
as if they were two cases
knitted with threads of twilight and goatskin,
Violent socks,
my feet were two fish made of wool,
two long sharks
sea blue, shot through
by one golden thread,
two immense blackbirds,
two cannons,
my feet were honored in this way
by these heavenly socks.
They were so handsome for the first time
my feet seemed to me unacceptable
like two decrepit firemen,
firemen unworthy of that woven fire,
of those glowing socks.

Nevertheless, I resisted the sharp temptation
to save them somewhere as schoolboys
keep fireflies,
as learned men collect
sacred texts,
I resisted the mad impulse to put them
in a golden cage and each day give them
birdseed and pieces of pink melon.
Like explorers in the jungle
who hand over the very rare green deer
to the spit and eat it with remorse,
I stretched out my feet and pulled on
the magnificent socks and then my shoes.

The moral of my ode is this:
beauty is twice beauty
and what is good is doubly good
when it is a matter of two socks
made of wool in winter.

Yamamoto RTW f12

Yamamoto nearly always yields himself to my obsessive interpretation of protect-me-fr0m-the world clothes. It's impossible to cover oneself up without revealing. Defenses always give us away. You pull the coat down to your ankles only to leave out the shoulder. Asymmetric capes hang down like worn out membranes or perhaps deformities. The bubble sweater dress is a shelter, but the seam looks like a string of stitches or a scar. The roomy coat is a world in which you're safe, yet, as a black-and-white diptych, it screams of the visible and the invisible.

Vivienne, mon amour

The latest Red Label collection captures what I love most about Viv's designs. She takes the best of wholesome, classical tailoring then switches the center of balance in the garment: elongates a lapel, shifts a few buttons, tugs at the hem of the skirt, loosens up the collar. If I didn't know how much thought and calculation goes into making these clothes look effortlessly disheveled, I'd imagine it's all the work of a bunch of mischievous smurfs who regularly break into the studio of a hard-nosed British tailor and put their own spin on the finished products. Or maybe it's a willful trophy wife who does what she can to rebel against some dress-code.

As a bonus, this collection is a study in my favorite color scheme. A teal undershirt peeping from under a coral dress; ice-blue tartan trousers worn with burgundy boots and belt, and a soft camel coat to tie it all together; the shimmering, cascading lilac dress; the beige knit ensemble i could live in; the perfect yet stubbornly asymmetrical black velvet blazer worn with a jabot shirt and - oh Vivienne - torn skinny jeans; and possibly the look I'd most like to own: the gray sweat-suit style two-piece worn with a laid-back chambray shirt.