Between a wedge and a wet place.

Gather your meemaw. Pack your fox fur. Fatten your pig.

The floods are coming.

I'm not big on dressing for the weather. I tend to weigh the time I'll suffer the wrath of the elements (typically about seven minutes, tops) against the long, luxurious hours to be spent peacocking around indoors and just hightail it to my destination severely underclothed. Pros: I walk faster than most golf carts can travel and my immune system rivals that of a cockroach. Cons: Hey, is that a rock in my shoe?/Nope, that would be the ground/I am perpetually wearing holes in the soles of my not-so-water-resistant footwear.

No more. I refuse to sacrifice another pair of leather boots to some bitch sidewalk that thinks it knows my life. Destruction don't come cheap, and nor does it complement my home pedicure. Having said that, don't expect to catch me splashing around in some polka-dot Target monstrosity. The time has come to invest in a pair of wellies that don't make me want to gouge out my eyes with a pair of six-inch YSL Tribute sandals.

Enter the weatherproof wedge boot.



Hunter has more or less asserted itself as the mainstream king of rainy day footwear, and I'm altogether smitten with the brand's Verbier model in slate. Where traditional Hunters can be a bit utilitarian for my taste, these are glossy and flirty, but still neutral enough to be worn with almost any ensemble. I love that the jaunty red laces add an on-trend splash of color. I also love that the boots come equipped with a neutral set of laces that can be swapped in for non-red letter days. We are all about balance here at La Vie en Ginger. Which is what you'll be doing a lot of in towering heels on slippery concrete.



On the other foot, we have two slightly more gravity-cooperative options from Loeffler Randall. These win points for their back zippers, designed for easier pants-tucking and more graceful rainy day stripteases (who says I don't shop with practicality in mind)? I'm drawn to the knee-high version...love me some ankle booties, but I question whether a shortie lace-up would hold up to torrential downpour and habitual puddle splashing. Rubber don't make it a rain boot, 'chu know? 'Chu know? Either pair comes in either color, which is yet another question to consider. Regardless, I delight in the fact that neither reduces the calves to cankley rubber stalks.

Call me Natalie Imbruglia, because I am torn. Jaunty versus striptease? Where would even one begin to make one's decision? Call me Sophie, because I have a choice to make! Just don't call me late for dinner!

Speaking of choices, yesterday was supposed to be the first day of my detox from the unchecked no-carb-left-behind spree that has been February 2011. Said detox lasted until 3pm, when I broke down and made banana bread (the brown bananas I've been hoarding in a paper bag for two weeks were finally perfect. Who am I to argue with nature?) and devoured half the loaf with butter and sea salt and possibly even a dollop (see, a dollop! So diet-friendly!) of Nutella. The good news: The banana bread was freakishly good and merits a recipe post in the near future. The bad news: What occurred when I tried to put on my pants this morning, aka the new first day of my detox.

Oh and I'm a redhead again, so if you see someone who looks like me but has a weird, unnatural version of my natural hair color, don't scream "ROBOT IMPOSTER!" and wrestle her to the ground. Unless she's wearing polka-dot Target rain boots. Then you have the green light.

You're so transparent.

I love being naked. I may masquerade as a clotheshorse by day, but if I’m lounging around in the privacy of my apartment, I can’t get out of my clothes fast enough. I’m not a cavewoman - I’ll throw on a robe or a pair of booty shorts out of respect for a roommate who may not be as into my body as I am - but when I live alone, there’s a good chance I’ll eat, sleep, crack my knuckles, read and re-read Harry Potter, check myself out in Photo Booth, practice my Beyoncé booty shake and do all of my other embarrassing secret behaviors in the buff. Going au natural makes me feel more in touch with my body and holds me accountable to not, you know, eating entire jars of rainbow chip frosting in one sitting (don’t judge. These things happen, y’all). Nudity can also provide a devilish confidence boost for those sure-to-be-awkward phone calls (I once nailed a job interview wearing only a watch).

It may come as no surprise, then, that when law or common decency require me to be clothed, I tend to gravitate toward body-skimming styles that hug my so-called curves. I have the kind of proportions – little waist, long legs, childbearing hips – that sound great in theory, but don’t take to clothes nearly as well as they do to hypothetical male fantasies. Loose-fitting, androgynous styles do me no favors. The more I conceal, the bigger I look. As such, this whole sheer moment that's happening right now is particular exciting for me: I get to wear the high necks and the loose, blouse-y shapes that would otherwise send me on a one-way trip to Frumpsville without concealing the shapely silhouette that lies beneath (yep, I love me). But as I rifled through my sheer-shoaled wardrobe, I couldn't help but wonder: how does one bring spring and summer's floaty fabrics into fall?







This Alexander Wang chiffon sweatshirt is DY. NA. MITE. The daring can wear it over an art deco bra à la the above photo, but a bodysuit or ribbed undershirt is a swell full-coverage alternative for the wallflowers/professionals/people who occasionally eat entire jars of rainbow chip frosting in one sitting. If you choose to go the exposed tummy route, you'd better love yours, and you'd better be pretty damn sure everyone else is going to love it, too. I've also seen knockoffs at Urban and Topshop with mesh or chiffon insets on the sleeves instead of the torso, eliminating the question of whether or not to reveal the inner workings of your gastrointestinal system to the world.

Regardless, you'll want to minimize the gap between your hemlines. Opt for a high-waisted skirt, perfectly fitted jeans (muffin tops need not apply), languid cargo pants or - whaddya know! - leather shorts. I also recommend balancing the peekaboo sex appeal of a sheer inset with a pair of flat boots or chunky platforms.

This is the part where most bloggers would make a crack about this look being "sheer brilliance." But I'll save you the forehead slap and the drum solo. You need that energy for shopping.

I see you're wearing leather...are you into handcuffs, too?

Occasionally, an item of clothing will wrangle out of me an entirely inappropriate public reaction. It usually happens when I’m killing time in a store with no intention of buying or even trying anything on and, as such, am caught off guard by an instantaneous and deeply powerful connection.







Such was the case with these Rag & Bone shorts. I made a beeline to them from across the brand’s SoHo boutique, caressed their buttery leather between my thumb and forefinger and audibly whispered, “I want you,” in an all-too-sexual tone (much to the discomfort of the salesgirl standing two feet away from me). Not only was it my least successful seduction to date, but I was also forced to make a quick exit before I could even ask for their digits.

To clarify: forced by my pride to exit. Fortunately, the salesgirl let it slide.

Having since been informed by the Interweb that their “digits” are something to the tune of $795, I’m convinced that things wouldn’t have worked out between us anyway. They do, however, make a beautiful prototype for the next item on my fall wish list: leather shorts. I first added this line item to my long-term shopping list (a novella-length, fully categorized Google doc; the short-term one is on my iPod Touch for portable shopping purposes) a full year ago. I’ve since found a couple of potentials, but haven’t until very recently made actually buying a pair a priority.

When it comes to a stiff and highly connotative material like leather, cut is particularly important. Spare us the leather booty shorts and (heaven forbid) leather harem pants. Straightforward, relatively modest shapes keep leather from veering too far into territory already claimed by the two B’s: bikers and bondage. These long, loose A-line shorts with their nipped-in waist strike the perfect proportion. They’re tough and sexy, but also polished. Clearly worthy of a terrible pick-up line.

Augustatic is one step away from Septembrilliant.

It’s around this point in any given summer that I typically begin to develop a hint of weather-related wanderlust. These three steamy months are a particular brand of laissez-faire delightful, but they sure do make it easy to fall into a rut of wearing only airy sundresses for weeks on end. In dreaming ahead to times when sweat-induced dry cleaning bills will be merely a memory and layering will once again become an active consideration in my wardrobe, I've begun to assemble my fall fashion wish list. And I mean wish list. As in, I wish there was a chance in Hell I would be able to get my hands on one or more of these things by October. Now that a budgeting disaster called “I greatly enjoy mojitos” has sabotaged my fall shopping allowance, I’ll be lucky if I can afford to eat for the next four weeks, let alone buy a new pair of mom jeans from Salvation Army to shred into cutoffs.

But just like J. Lo's love, online window shopping don't cost a thing. Therefore, I will be debriefing my top picks for fall over the next couple of weeks, operating under a fantasy budget of whatever it takes. So let’s kick things off (heh) with:







Nailing down this summer’s official shoe crush was less exciting than it has been in years past, as this shoemance sadly has little to no chance of coming to fruition. This is partly because I have no income, and partly because Rumi “Fashion Toast” Neely has since given these Sam Edelman boots her blessing, so I’m sure they’ll be sold out in my size before I get the opportunity to save up for them. At any rate: want, in black (I’m generally nuts for gray, but not as nuts for the combo of gray and brown) leather (they also come in suede, but I never spend more than $75 on shoes that will inevitably be ruined in two weeks’ time), size eight and a half (if anyone's feeling generous). Envisioning them with slouchy paper bag-waisted shorts, a vintage blouse and a neatly tailored blazer. Equal parts classic and quirky.

What’s that I hear? You barely even signed on for the clog phenomenon, and now you’re being expected to embrace clog boots? Yep. Embrace them. Embrace them right now. I actually prefer these to clogs' original rendering. The streamlined shape and artful cutouts make them appear less clunky than traditional clogs, while still channeling their earthy, 1970s-era charm.

Stay tuned for another fall frontrunner tomorrow. Also, a breaking addendum to my Twitter rant: if you have Foursquare linked to your Twitter account, I will punch you in the face. Peace and blessings.

Loafing around.

Remember when I decided to embark on a search for the perfect pair of loafers?





Found these in Second Best Thrift in Astoria, Queens. Literally the best thrift store I have ever visited. I realize this is a strong statement coming from a secondhand goddess such as myself, but there is nothing about this place that isn't amazing. There's no rhyme or reason to the layout, which might prove frustrating to some, but I relish poking around for hours to unearth the best of the best from tangled piles and musty armoires. So many thrift stores give you secondhand clothes in a crowded, overwhelming retail mall format (and for astronomical prices, to boot). Worst of both worlds! If I'm gonna go thrifting, I want a grandma's attic experience for mere pocket change, and this place delivers. It also boasts an impressive selection of ugly-chic footwear, which is so where I'm at these days.

Anyway, I love that these are light enough to wear right now, but not so much so that I won't be able to transition them into fall. They're also the most comfy. I walked from Times Square to SoHo, then back up to Union Square by way of all three Villages (East, West and Greenwich) yesterday and barely felt a thing. That is a long-ass way, for the record. It wasn't until later, when I was stumbling from the Meatpacking District back down to SoHo in a Blue Moon-fueled haze, that I finally had a stop in a hotel for a Band-Aid.

Nailed it.

American Apparel is a highly polarizing company. Dov Charney is a seedy mofo, to be sure, but so are many corporate CEOs; the clothes aren't terribly high-quality, but neither are they particularly expensive (or products of child labor). I wrote Am App off as overpriced hipster bullshit until my sophomore year of college, when my wardrobe became utterly dependent on v-neck t-shirts and high-waisted jersey tulip skirts. These days, I'm more into the brand's unitards, racerback tanks and leather-look leggings, but I've found a new reason to trek over to the Upper East Side location (the closest to my Times Square office) (the alleged existence of these droves of Upper East Side hipsters who require their own American Apparel store is another question entirely):



I've been in search of a non-shimmery gray nail polish for some time now. Gray polish is decidedly trendy at the moment, but not exactly a staple you're likely to find at your local CVS (or Duane Reade) (can you tell I'm excited to be in NYC?). When I saw American Apparel's "Factory Gray" polish (shown above) at the register, I had to have it. A bottle will set you back $6 - somewhere between $1 Wet N Wild and $9 OPI (we're not even going to talk about $25 Chanel) - and appears thus far to be sufficiently quick-drying and hard-wearing. Two coats provide full coverage of a medium gray with barely perceptible lavender undertones. The color is a perfect summer alternative to the deep purples and navies that have been cropping up these past few seasons - neutral and modern, without being aggressively vampy or girly.

In general life news, today is my first day at SELF magazine. Amazeballs. I just had my first Condé Nast cafeteria experience - I've never seen so many aggressively thin and well-dressed people in one place. It even inspired me to order brown rice in my sushi. Baby steps.

New at Urban! Or, Fashion Week for the broke.

As amusing as it is to click through endless runway slideshows on Style.com, and as tantalizing as it is to live vicariously through personal style bloggers and their insane designer wardrobes, and as thrilling as it is to know that streams of fancy fashionistas have descended on Bryant Park Lincoln Center (I will never get over this) for Fashion Week...sometimes a girl needs a fix that's a bit closer to her own reality.

The Urban Outfitters spring catalog has arrived. Talk about catharsis. So much has been written on the subject of seasonal depression that I'm hesitant to add generic fuel to the fire, but having spent three months feeling chubby, pasty, and depressed, I'm thrilled to welcome airy sundresses - or at least trenches and open-toed shoes - back into my sartorial psyche.





I saw these two dresses and instantly knew I had to have them. My back is my favorite part of my body, so rear cutouts, scoops and detailing have become a mainstay of my personal style (see here and here). I've been waiting to debut them once the weather gets a bit more cooperative/my body deflates from three months of hibernation, but just knowing that they're hanging in my closet makes life - wait for it - a little sunnier.



Boyfriend khakis have catapulted to the top of my spring shopping list. I'll probably try my luck at Village Discount with somebody's real boyfriend's cast-offs first, but the slim cut and lack of baggy crotch on these has me sorely tempted.





Stripes. They somehow manage to be classic and quirky all at once. It's the combination of a gamine print in a feminine cut that makes these two cardigans so appealing.





High-waisted skirts are timelessly pretty and flattering for all body types. And for the tomboys among us:



Flirty shorts present an alternative perfect for sprinting down the beach. Love the vintage-inspired clutch, too!



This is what I imagine Carrie Bradshaw wears to bed.



A camera case that isn't masculine, utilitarian, or both?! You could probably fit your lip gloss, license, and keys in there, too.





Much like this season's clothes, this season's bags are slouchy and neutral. Soft leather, linen, and canvas reign supreme.

And every girl needs:



A French terry pullover.





A breezy white camisole.



And a fabulous khaki trench to wear year after year.

Season's greetings!

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:

This ain't no Neverland Ranch, but...

Little boys have a lot to offer us. Particularly in the wardrobe department. If you're a frequenter of department stores like Target and Wal-Mart (Fun fact: I am Wal-Mart royalty. My uncle is David Glass*, former company President/C.E.O.), make a pit stop in the kids' section for cheap thrills on perennial classics.

Button-downs. Perfectly slim-cut oxfords for under $20 a pop? Yes, please. Earlier today I scored two plaid flannels at Target for $12.99 apiece. That's as good as it gets outside of a thrift store, folks (and I'm going to go ahead and still award myself some indie points for shopping creatively). Bonus: these clothes are designed for males who are pre-gender identity crisis, so you're likely to find great colors like deep purple and salmon pink amidst the racks.

Undershirts. Three words. White. Ribbed. Tanks. Wear them with and under everything.

Blazers. One of my most-complimented wardrobe items is a navy blue little boys' suit jacket. That one actually did come from a thrift store, but the same look can be achieved via discount retail. Aim for one that closes across the chest but maintains that adorably shrunken silhouette in sleeve length; your slender wrist bedecked in a vintage watch, clunky chain or delicate bangle is what keeps the whole look feminine.

Khakis. Before you snicker - yes, they will be incredibly short - roll the cuffs a few times and pair them with a chic blouse, a skinny belt and a killer pair of heels. Still laughing?

No need to let your credit take the fall on these basics. These are tough times, dumplings. Brooks Brothers will still be there after the recession.

Have a swell Cyber Monday!

* That's right, I'm related to a man who once proclaimed in response to child labor accusations that since Asians are quite short, you can't always tell how old they are. WHAT. A. CHAMP.

Bodycon-oisseur.

In fifth grade, my favorite outfit was as follows: a lime green crushed velvet boatneck worn with leopard-print pants (both from Limited Too, duh) and a cropped leather jacket.

Today, at age 20, I am at this moment drooling over: a midnight blue crushed velvet bodycon dress worn with a leopard-print silk scarf (both from Topshop, duh) and a cropped leather jacket.

That's right, bitches. Velvet is back, and with none of the prissiness it had in the '90s. You can thank Balmain's Christophe Decarnin (the man who singlehandedly revived the shoulder pad) for its new incarnation: curve-hugging bodycon dresses made for nights out in Arctic conditions.



Controversial fabric aside - I adore velvet, personally, but I understand if you've filed it away with platform Skechers and popcorn shirts - let's talk about the cut. While bodycon dressing does require a degree of general fitness and proportionality, a slim-cut silhouette is far less intimidating than you might imagine. There may not be much of a margin for poochiness, but there's also no extra bulk added by the fabric, so if you've got confidence (and a reasonably flat stomach) there's no reason you can't pull it off. Long sleeves and a short hemline mean that allure needn't come at the cost of warmth; your gams will be just as catcall-worthy under a pair of black tights (choose sheer, not opaque, for maximum exposure).



If velvet's not your scene, epaulets provide an equally up-to-the-minute embellishment. They're like the Kate Bosworth of shoulder pads: kind of frail and spindly, but not unattractive. Am I right? Am I right?

Whatever. Both dresses make me want to sit in a swanky city bar and sip amaretto hot chocolate as I watch snow fall through a picture window. Now if only I had a Nate Archibald (or a Trip Vanderbilt) to keep my Serena van der Woodsen company...

From Russia with love.

So. Here's the story:

a) The photograph is courtesy of French fashionista Garance Doré, whose self-titled blog is always brimming with charm and inspiration. Her boyfriend is street-style photographer Scott Schuman. Perhaps you know him as "The Sartorialist." Yes, really.

b) PETA might come after me with paint cans (I'm one of those morally confused vegetarians who's involved in a torrid love affair with leather), but I would slap a fur trapper onto the list of Winter '10 essentials. These czarina-worthy chapeaux add a rich, cozy touch to otherwise austere outerwear. Whether yours is made of mink or, uh, synthetic materials, stick to satin lining for minimal hat hair. A subtle silvery sheen renders this look its most modern. Earflaps? Up to you.

c) Dear Girl In Picture, if you happen to stumble across this blog, please send me the name of the person who does your hair. Sincerely, Emma Aubry. P.S. Love the black and navy. Not sarcasm. Actually my favorite color combination since seafoam and silver.

Leather or not.

Forget easily snagged knits and fingerless gloves (the most useless invention since motorized mascara). This year's outerwear is a leather lover's paradise, and it's not all bikers and bondage, either. Punchy colors and ladylike accents such as bows and shirring make leather accessible to even the girliest of girls.









These four pairs are from Dents, an English brand available through ASOS, but variations on the basic leather driving glove can be found everywhere from Target to Banana Republic. This winter, hide your manicure in a sleeve that's a little bit tasteful, a little bit tough. Who says your circulation has to suffer for fashion?

Ridin' flirty.

The perfect pair of flat boots has long been the linchpin to a complete winter wardrobe. Neutral colors like black, brown and gray match everything in your closet, justifying the investment, while metal details such as buckles and studs cater to your personal style.







I've been on the lookout for a new pair ever since my chocolate leather riding boots (purchased, irreplaceably, in Italy) bit the dust (for the sixth time...replacing a zipper is one thing, replacing a sole is another). These Frye clover-tab stompers are the first I've truly fallen in love with. Wear them with yesterday's sweater, skinny jeans and a colorful pashmina for a posh holiday shopping outfit that won't drown you in your own sweat the moment you step out of the chill and into a cozy department store.