A wristed development.

Wrists are sexy.



I've thought so since the bathroom scene in Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets. Tell me Daniel and Rupert's exposed forearms didn't make your teenage loins quicken with delight.

If you've been lurking around this dark corner of the Interwebs for a while, you know I have a severe minor watch fetish. These past few months, I've been letting my rose gold Michael Kors clunker (seen on my Christmas list, transformed into exquisite reality by Mama Gail Bail) take center stage. It's utterly showstopping and approximately the weight of a small grapefruit (calisthenic bonus!), so there's been little need to don more than a pair of matching princess-cut CZ studs alongside. Easy? Yes. Boring? Maybe. Sometimes I like things that fall into the "classic" category. Sue me.

But even I, the staunchest watch enthusiast, will admit that the canvas of the wrist offers far more potential than even the most high-rolling Rolex can fully exploit. If executed properly, a well-accessorized wrist can be as richly composed and artfully personal as an entire ensemble. Jumbled jewels have caught my attention as of late, particularly those that add unexpected dimension to the simplest of outfits.



I'm always tempted to go full-on tribal or full-on hardcore when I layer my jewelry, but I love that this fashionista (captured by Jak & Jil's Tommy Ton) manages to hold on to the integrity of her preppy digs. A thread of red to complement the jacket. A hint of earthiness in the beaded bracelets. That ostentatious golden globe. Flawless.

Some more recent inspiwristion:



(From Style Scrapbook.)



(From Stockholm Streetstyle.)







(From The Man Repeller.)

Restraint in accessowristing can speak volumes as well. Take, for example, goddess Diane Kruger (pictured below with Jason Wu, my current design crush):





So much to love about this look (the undone hair, the flattering silhouette, the sparrow-embellished white clutch...perhaps not the dyed-to-match bridal shoes, though I am willing to overlook them), but the delicate strand bracelet is what puts it over the edge for me. It's so feminine and intentional. You know she didn't run out of time to finish accessorizing. This was a choice. A choice that has me ready to renounce the majority of my jewelry collection.

Which do you prefer? The calculated hodgepodge or the polished stand-alone piece? I go back and forth. The degree of self-editing involved in the second look definitely doesn't come as naturally to me (you can see evidence of my proclivity to pile it all on here and here), but I'm increasingly drawn to simplicity, particularly as we head into the warmer months. Something to play with in the next few weeks, as I've officially forbidden myself to buy any new clothes until my birthday (May 2). This will surely result in much wailing and gnashing of teeth. Almost as much as when I tried to give up coffee for Lent.

That lasted three days. I don't know what I was thinking.

Are you brave enough to let me see your peacock?

Hey! Hey guys, it's me! Your patron saint of practicality and poise, who wears shorts in negative temperatures and takes outfit photos in public restrooms!



(High-fashion cuticle scrutiny.)



(High-fashion pit check, complete with high-fashion ginger roots that can't be tamed/saved/blamed/changed/tamed.)

Celebrating New York fashion week with a vintage fur coat, Anthro cropped sweatshirt and Zara high-waisted pleated shorts. There's a reason I'm not your patron saint of dating.

I'd like to introduce you to a new friend.



His name is Henry.





He's...rather mesmerizing.



And almost as photogenic as I am.

As a devoted Potter fanatic, I've always had a sneaking suspicion that my patronus would be a peacock. Vain. Ostentatious. And a little bit too much. When I spotted this ring in Aldo Accessories a few weeks ago, I knew it needed a new home on my finger. Even if it meant forcing a harassed sales associate to dig through backstock to find a ring sized small enough to fit my freakish baby hands.

Whatever. I work retail. I know full well that downtime is the enemy. She was secretly thrilled.

Aldo also carries an eagle (for all you Philadelphia fans out there!) and a goldfish (for all you new Pisces out there! EH? EH?). I'm just happy the flash panic over the "new zodiac" has subsided, as no one affected is old enough to so much as bang out a dramatic Facebook status/we all know I would have stubbornly stayed a Taurus anyway. Speaking of Facebook, here's a current event I'm much more concerned with: did anyone else notice that Zuck and his minions have changed the "Remove from Friends" button? It now reads "Unfriend." EW. WHAT. WHY. EW. I've always said "Defriend." I feel like my creative liberties concerning Facebook terminology have been yanked out from under me, right along with unique interests and the little box under my photo (may it rest in peace). Salt, meet wound.

Now enjoy a "did-she-just-say-what-I-think-she-just-said?" jam from girlcrush K. Perr to start your Wednesday off on the right...feather. (Note: I had to remove the mp3 I had originally posted after receiving a scary copyright infringement e-mail from Blogger. Turns out K. Perr and her people are really on top of things. Sorry!)

Deck the halls with hearts and cupcakes.

The holidays have a way of amplifying whatever you're feeling by about a hundredfold. That's all well and good if you're happy and in love, but if your season is shaping up to bring more silent nights than joy to the world, it's easy to become overwhelmed by the sheer, magnanimous euphoria of it all. Some grow embittered by the bastardization of a religious holiday into a commercially-driven circus. Personally, I adore Christmas and the entire season leading up to it. The year's first holiday Starbucks cup brings a tear to my eye. I pull out my Hanson Christmas album (wait, there must be something wrong with my keyboard...I don't own that) the day after Halloween. I do, in fact, own a sparkly Santa hat. Fine, the *NSYNC Christmas album, too.

I'm a little sad, however, to be spending this December away from my family. I grew up in two households that take Christmas extremely seriously. We have more traditions than we can even remember to complete each year. I'll be home a few days before Christmas, so I won't miss out on the best ones: driving around to admire neighborhood lights on Christmas Eve; enjoying treats like cinnamon twists, eggs benedict and our chocolate Yule log cake/giant HoHo known as the "HoHoHo" on Christmas morning; sleeping in the same bed with my three siblings on Santa's big night (to facilitate our 6am wake-up call) (okay, that last one doesn't happen anymore). But without my mom's angel collection and my dad's holiday 3D glasses, I can't help but worry that the next few weeks are going to feel a little flat.

Which is why I have taken the liberty of erecting The Girliest Tree Ever To Exist Anywhere atop my space heater nightstand.









Why yes, that is a glittery fake tree trimmed with glittery hearts and glittery cupcakes standing next to a glittery snow family! Casual. Practical. Delightful. My hat/scarf/purse stand also got a holiday makeover, in the form of a bedazzled tree-topper.





By the way, if the wide shot above piqued your interest, this is how I display what I affectionately refer to as my "varsity jewelry":





Brings a whole new meaning to the term "cocktail ring," no? My makeup brushes are stashed in a wine glass. I'm aiming for a full bar someday.

This holiday season, do what you need to do to feel joy. Maybe that means one-stop shopping on Amazon instead of putting yourself through the trauma of mall parking. Maybe it means letting yourself gain a little bit of cookie weight. Maybe it means watching A Christmas Story for the eighty-seventh time (really just the best Christmas movie on the planet). Maybe it means swallowing your pride, smothering your fierce independence and surrounding yourself with people who love you. Maybe it means a putting up a sparkly tree on your space heater. And if all else fails, maybe this little guy can lend a hand.

Whatever the solution, seek out your holiday style and find a way to sing auld lang syne. After all...it's the most wonderful time of the year.

Orange you glad it's fall?

Okay. I get it. You're sick of my nude bandage booties. I have heard your cries, and I have responded by purchasing:



A practical pair of knee-high orange suede moccasins. One of the perks of working at a resale store? First dibs on every outrageously cool item that rolls through the door (plus a discount on prices that are already way below sea level).





The neutral parade from last spring and summer marches on, as does my infatuation with henleys. It's like Animal Farm up in here: yes buttons good, no buttons bad. The chiffon side stripe and neck trim on this one had me at hello. Also, bike shorts are a thing now, but I'd recommend performing my leggings test before wearing them out of the house. I was going to say "taking them out for a spin," but here, the opposite is true; if you don't pass the leggings test, you should only take bike shorts out for a literal spin. As in spin class.



I prefer to spice up a blandly hued ensemble with some kind of a statement in the accessories department, be it a pair of out-there footwear or a tangle of bangles. In this case, I went for both. No watch (shocker!), but I did include a "coins of the world" bracelet that functions about the same as wearing jingle bells. No surprise tickle attacks for me.



Shirt: Jpark.
Shorts: Sketchy whore store in Astoria, Queens.
Boots: Minnetonka.
Earrings, rings, cuff and bracelets: Gifted or inherited.

Cloudy with a chance of menswear.

It's been threatening to rain for three days now. I keep dressing down in anticipation. It has yet to so much as sprinkle. Infuriating. On the bright side, these fake-out forecasts have given me a chance to play with my approach to casualwear; namely, how to bring a little personality to jeans and a button-down.





This necklace is one of the few jewelry items I've ever actually purchased, having been lucky enough to inherit my weight in accessories from my late and formidably posh grandmother. It was my obsession this past fall and winter. The chain links are a combination of gunmetal and silver, though some are starting to go pink from where my perfume has rubbed off over time. Stah-ruggle.



No clunky Casio today. I thought the statement necklace begged for a one-metal color scheme and more delicate co-accessories. I'm a fan of how this particular watch adds a bit of sparkle without being excessively blinged out. Swarovski is not so much my jam.



Shirt: BDG.
Jeans: Forever 21.
Purse: Talon.
Shoes: Deena & Ozzy.
Earrings: Forever 21.
Necklace: Lou Lou boutique in Middleburg, VA.
Watch and rings: Inherited.

Floral terrace.

Just as I was emotionally preparing myself for a summer of awkward lurking in Bryant Park, it dawned on me. I have a balcony. Well, a fire escape. I've always had a thing for fire escapes. They're this magical fusion between two of my favorite things: cities and being outside. So suck it, haters. It's a balcony. This girl's got a room with a view.

Today was a day for gray-on-gray and floral hipster glasses.







It took a while for the fashion industry to sell me on sweats as a fashion statement, but it happened. Much like how I'm now slowly but surely developing an affinity for clogs (blame it on Miu Miu). These H&M high-waisted jersey harem pants were the straw that broke this camel's back.



The white, yellow and rose gold bracelet in the middle is my all-time fave. Delicate and feminine, yet subtly unexpected.



Bodysuit: Forever 21.
Pants: H&M.
Shoes: Deena & Ozzy.
Glasses: Street vendor in East Village.
Watch: Casio.
Earrings, rings and bracelets: Gifted or inherited.

Highlight 'er.

After doing some serious thinking (and I mean serious. I am well aware that I possess neither a model-thin body nor an impressive designer wardrobe), I've decided to try my hand at outfit posts. As fun as it is to talk about fashion, sometimes a picture really is worth a thousand words, and there's no way to illustrate your style without...you know...an illustration. I'm sure I'll chicken out in a week and be all NOPE, NOT CUT OUT FOR THIS. But until that day, feel free to judge me.

So it turns out it's really hard to subtly take pictures of yourself in Bryant Park. I kept at it for about a half hour before putting my tail between my legs and scampering home to Queens. I failed to get a quality full-body shot because in all my sneakiness and inexpertise passersby kept wandering into the frame, but since the high temp in New York City today was 102 (really too hot for anything other than a simple skirt and t-shirt), I was all about the accessories anyway.







This t-shirt looks yellow in these photos, but it's really more of a chartreuse-y green. It's ridiculously soft. I'm stockpiling $5 Forever 21 tees and tanks, because I wear through my nice ones in a hot second anyway (not trynna put sweat stains on no Alexander Wang). Buy them small, because they lose their shape fairly quickly.



Note the aforeplugged gray nail polish. Also, I've taken to wearing a tangle of mixed-metal chains on my watch hand so that I can wear my old school Casio (obsesh) with gold or silver accessories.



My tattoo (on the inside of my left wrist) says "this is it." It's not a Michael Jackson homage, just a reminder to be present in every moment of my life. I liked that it was three small words that only had meaning because I gave it to them. It's in my handwriting.



This guitar pick ring is one of my favorites. My mom got it for me in Italy.





I love, love, love these crazy boots. There was one pair in Urban Outfitters (a return) and it was my size. I had to have them. The wedge makes them relatively easy to walk in (I once hauled ass from Times Square to SoHo in these babies), and the bandage detailing adds a little edge to what could be a deeply uninteresting nude shoe.





Yeah, that last one was just my lunch. But it was exceptionally delicious.

T-shirt: Forever 21.
Skirt: Forever 21 (you can't really see the detailing, but it has understated ruffle gathering and a zipper across the front and actually fits beautifully. A rare F21 win).
Purse: Zara.
Shoes: Deena & Ozzy.
Sunglasses: Lou Lou boutique in Middleburg, VA.
Earrings: Forever 21 (this is hilarious. I usually hate this store).
Watch: Casio.
Necklace, chains and rings: Inherited.

Watch this!

A magpie-like jewelry-hoarding gene runs through my family line, much like red hair or emotional eating. My mother collects silver bracelets. My sister is the queen of small, sparkly earrings. My grandmother was the ultimate jewelry fanatic, boasting a collection of baubles that rivals that of some museums (much of which I was fortunate enough to inherit). As for me, my downfalls have always been cocktail rings and wristwatches, the latter of which I honestly believe to be the easiest way to look instantly pulled-together, even in the event of the most classic (read: boring) outfit. Never mind that most of my watches are broken and permanently set to 5pm (happy hour!). If I don't have a watch on, I feel naked.

My watch collection is extensive, but fairly simple: each piece consists of either a two-tone combination of gold and silver or one of the aforementioned metals paired with a leather strap. A bit of opalescent color or an odd shape on the face is about as crazy as I go. Lately, though, one of my favorite fashion bloggers, stylist/designer Andy Torres, has gotten me hooked on neon plastic, the likes of which I haven't worn since the heyday of the Casio Baby-G in the late '90s.













I love the pop of color her watches lend her outfits. Even when paired with nicer jewelry, they don't look tacky or cheap; just youthful and pleasantly unexpected.

Itching to test-drive the look? Here are a few of my favorite styles from California brand Nixon: