the dog days are officially over

Yup. That's right. If you thought there might be a couple weeks left of lingering summer days, that dream just drowned in the downpour today. 
If definitely feels like Fall in Ottawa now: full day rain without any relief, knitted hats are a sensible, if not necessary option, afternoon cappuccinos are chosen over sangria, new apartments are being occupied, new jobs are mere weeks away and projects that i have been working on over the past few months are fast approaching launch dates.... change is in autumn's cooler air, and unlike the winters I so very much dread, I am eagerly waiting for this change to come!

vintage dress, slip and necklace, divine jacket, spring boots, h&m hat

Maple syrup cappuccinos from Wild Oat. Mmmm.

this day started in the middle of the night

(Angela Bucaro dress, New Moon by Wilfred coat, aldo boots, thrifted belt, purse from a market in Florence)

so you will have to excuse the swollen, heavy circles that have inhabited my eyes.

The previous night had it in for my friend. The night stole our playfulness and hardened our gauzy midnight dreams. It left her young and helpless and hanging on by a thread. And, both fortunately and unfortunately, I was there with her to witness when shit got bad.
Needless to say, the most valuable things we learn, about ourselves and love and the people in our lives are usually in the most painful of ways.
Life has a way of pushing feelings into your pressure points until you can't take it anymore and you hit the ground, crack and collapse. And when we are left as emotional dust, vacant and transparent, like a rubber stamp pressed onto paper too many times; the outline is so faded and the original form lost; is when we can finally breath calmly like we have nothing more to loose, and re-start. 

My friend is an instinctively strong girl, who without question will tear up those somber feelings just as much as they are consuming her. She is someone who knows that life is too short to be chasing feelings that bring you solely happiness or contentment or luck. When you like to play with fire and walk around letting gasoline drip from your heart, you are bound to get burnt. So I guess I am not too worried anymore; maybe excited to see what happens next. Maybe still slightly delirious from lack of sleep. Maybe a bit of both.

lo-fi video experiments

Making a Shell from Tell No One on Vimeo

Seaweed from Tell No One on Vimeo

heads down. lean in

(newport news dress, vintage belt, shoes & accessories, BCBG blazer, Club Monaco clutch)

Today is Sunday. I've read Lullabies for Little Criminals from cover to cover.

I haven't talked to my mother in a long time. Longer than I care to admit. 
I miss telling her about my lucid dreams, where i am falling and the only people that get comfort from my embrace are strangers, thieves and sailors. 

She would smile and give me a discerning eye of acknowledgment. At once, making me feel both comforted in her prudency and lonely at the same time.

I have ink on my fingers and my eyes are sore from the beautiful words I've tried to sear into my head today.
I would rather be kissing someone.


banana republic shirt, smart set pants, vintage belt and cuff

fall pt2


Haider Ackerman

Max Azria

Vanessa Bruno

Like most other things in my life, my taste in fashion this season is pretty diverse, maybe even close to damn-near-chaotic. 
I can't seem to get enough draping fabrics. Whether it is sheer, jersey, layered or on its own, I simply adore the delicate, feminine and misshaped lines and layers. Especially contrasted by over-sized industrial and masculine jackets, cinched waists and bootsbootsboots! 

This season I want to focus on the word "classic". While you can flip open any magazine and see this word, in all of it's fashion-meaning: "crisp white dress shirts" and "perfectly tailored blazers", "well crafted denim" and some version of the "little black dress", I want to create meaning for this word on my own terms and by my own rules.

I consider my fashion inclinations to be evolutionary and rarely at a stand-still (ok, once in a while a brief halt). And while, I certainly don't define myself as someone who is trendy, I do make attempts at changing my style and trying new ways of wearing clothes regularly and often within the perimeters of what Paris Vogue defines ;) 
However, over the last few weeks, while day dreaming about my fall wardrobe, I have sworn to myself that I will not get lost in any more trends, rather, attempt to define what is actually and classically my style; not necessarily with definitive words, but by what I actually decide to wear any given day of the week, what I am drawn to and what I consider stylish. 
"Classic" for me is a worn-in motorcycle jacket thrown on over a cleverly, sexy dress. Or flared denim, a tousled white t-shirt and an arm full of my favorite vintage bangles. I love one-shoulders and Grecian-inspired dresses. I adore hats, particularly large-brimmed circa 1970. 

When I think of the paramount way clothing can fit a woman, I like to envision walking naked through a windstorm and, by chance, a delicate and supple piece of fabric is blown against my body. 
The idea of clothing that moves with you and is subtly subversive; clothes that accentuate the body and indicate feminism in a phlegmatically daring way is, in my opinion, ultimately the most sexy, strong and stylish.
Realistically, I will still pull out the faithful skinny jeans and trench coat once in a while, making my "classics", look like everyone else's "classics". But, while the rest may be double wrapping their scarves around their neck, preparing to brace the chilly fall season, I will be throwing my scarf into the air and hoping for a windstorm.
Here's to Fall!

fall pt1

Proenza Schouler


Nina Ricci