In the world of motorcycling and its various iterations, moto-specific clothing is called "gear," not clothing. And when you add things on to your bike, it's "modifications," not accessories.
Men.
Vintage | Thrift | Miscellanea
I don't have a lot of tops in my closet. Rather, I have mostly jeans and skirts and other bottoms. It stems from a pattern of buying acquired in my teenage years.
I went into the Gap looking for high fashion. Three hot young designers were commissioned to create riffs on the iconic white shirt, and I was in pursuit of Rodarte's petal blossom tank and trapeze top. The SA whom I called urged me to "come in as soon as possible" because he couldn't guarantee how long they would last.
An odd moment for me. While everything looked nice, nothing grabbed me in the had-to-have-it kind of way. Nothing sparkled. Nothing caught my fancy.
. The men's style oxfords I've been looking for. I hope the bi-color leather will be whimsical, rather than clownish.
. A thin wool sweater in black. I tried this item on months ago, but passed at that price. Now that the price is a third what it was then, I'll try agan.
. A wool v-neck sweater vest in cream. I find myself layering with vests this winter just to keep warm.
After much delay, the collection was finally put out on the racks. I called this morning just to make sure (I’d already made two fruitless trips), and by the time I arrived around 12, a few sizes had already sold out in the most popular styles.
The cropped motorcycle jacket. Retains some of the toughness of a black leather jacket, but with the refinement of a lady's cropped topper.
Or maybe this patent leather number instead.
The skirt. Structured, but short and sweet.
In order for the new quality over quantity equation to work, I actually have to reduce the number of things I buy. I've already upped the quality (and the price). That part is easy.
After a week of being snowed in, it's finally starting to thaw. The snow is running in streams down the gutters, the moss is peeking out from under rocks, and the temperature is slowly rising.
Silly plastic shoes in my favorite bright French blue color. I love the d'orsay style (cut out sides).
Chloe shoes. So high, such a mix of toughness and prettiness. And so overpriced. Even with $500 knocked off the price.
I like the backward slouch of this beanie hat. Stalking the sales...
The color of this silk top is so deep deep blue. The pussy bow makes it louche and cool.
A fairly ordinary bag in this picture, but I've been interested in this label for about a year now. At half price, I'll risk paying return shipping just to check it out.

Segolene Royal, the French socialist candidate for the presidency
Note to self: sales after Christmas.
Plain and oversized, like menswear.


I saw a slim-looking shopgirl the other day in a pair of very well-fitted pants. And it occurred to me that it must be possible to find pants that are tailored in small sizes. Perhaps I had been looking in the wrong shops, at the wrong brands.
The top that I have been stalking for a few months have finally been marked down to about 1/2 price.
Worishofer Red Slip Ons
Levi's Capitol E Boyfriend Jeans
Karen Walker high-waisted shorts
I covet this men's style button down. Normally I don't like button downs. They just feel too stodgey and ... well, buttoned up. But this is special, and alas, sold out.
I'm on the prowl for a pair.
I'm reminded today of Ramona Quimby, scabby-kneed heroine of my youth, who was fascinated by the continually sagging pantyhose of her schoolteacher. She would watch the hose crumple around her teacher's knees and pool in a nylon puddle at her ankles as the schoolday wore on.
I've avoided wearing these for most of my life. I've always thought them to be despairing, slobby kind of clothes. The kind you wear when you've given up on life or your looks, when all you want to do is stay inside all weekend eating Haagen Daz and listening to the rain.
I've always had skinny legs. In middle school, I developed an extreme self-consciousness about them, and I never wore skirts for that reason. I didn't want anyone looking at my legs. When I worked as a door-to-door canvasser for an environmental group in Texas (babes in bear country), I wore jeans the entire long hot summer cause I wouldn't wear shorts in public. I actually didn't wear a tank top until I was 24. I basically wouldn't wear any clothing that would invite scrutiny of any sort.