I have this unhealthy niche obsession, The ultimate upper-middle class nostalgia epitome: return to tiffany’s 950 sterling silver bracelet. Rachel McAdams infamously wore it on Mean Girls and so does every other wealthy suburban daughter working „fun-hours“ at a fad matcha coffeeshop. Location: downtown, the fancy area. Bonus rich girl moment: get the one with the diamond.

the suburban city myth:

I think about this bracelet and it’s silent “my CEO dad bought this for me when I turned fifteen ” “my dentist dad bought this for me when I passed this one math exam” “my roman numeral dad bought this for me because I am his daughter” whisper a lot. More than I would like to admit really. I will probably get one for myself eventually. It’s shiny, it’s heavy, it’s kitschy, it’s weirdly elegant. My heart desires it and I fear to admit it. I need it. ultimately, it will grant me membership of the my dad bought this for me club. and the dads themselves wonder about the occasion? The only thing I ever wanted was to feel the tuscan kitchen of regina Georges mom or the sorority schedule of Elle woods. Walking over nineties carpeted floors, hopping on the bar stool with the greatest of ease and stir around in the tall glass of diet smoothie thigh master mom put infront of me. bored, unbothered. All while tiffany’s will dangle on my wrist, 500 dollars in solid silver, and I am living. the dream.

chanel is dead?

Fifteen y/o me, who would’ve died for a 5k sequinned tweed double flap, is very sad. & my tears are real. never trust the online gossip, but apparently the numbers don’t lie. some millions in loss of sales? side eying my pre-loved Wishlist, it’s not that I’m actively trying to save them either. but 10k for a caviar double flap seems like asking for it. they don’t want us to help them. they’re on their own now, gurgling along the downward spiral.

the amex drama:

Since my hundred percent polyester based fast fashion wallet of five trusted years decided to quit on me, I am left to wonder: Who shall be the successor? Pulling the good old “going out clubbing- no nerves for a bag” style as my ex used to by shoving his amex and id (sometimes tragically synonymous) inbetween his phone and case is really not my style anymore. I am a grown up girl now. I have to buy designer in order to pledge for my credibility as a grown up in grown up world. And ultimately, Friday night wallets just won’t cut it out there. It’s Goyard or go home. I am already stressed out and haven’t even reached birkin age. Since I am not playboy enough to be stuffing money in my bra either, I decided it would be best to settle on site in Milano. On a spontaneous whim infront of the Chanel store. Super casual, no strings attached, ready for a real investment. But oh the horror. The window dressing was so bad, it seemed they had reawakened my 2015 plushy preppy dreams in nightmare form, unfolded right in front of me, that I immediately got turned off a potential pink & pricy calfskin leather rectangle. It’s probably for the best. I’ll just keep on carrying my shiny plastic loose for a while, as god and my banker intended it.

xx

We all or at least I just want to have a confidant in whatever form that may solidify, live in a beautiful home somewhere surrounded by nature and „a bathtub that opens up into a garden“ (as read and inspired in one of the anonymous stories in Gillian Andersons „want“ brilliant & inspiring, really) with flowers and children and a man who is a doer and loves you and supports you and is strong and good at conversing and growing together and also good food and laughter and creating. Theres not much more to it, I think.

xx

The social clock. A term I came across the other day on a podcast on YouTube. Fascinating how every thing that exists gets objectively analysed and named by scientists. As if they were unaffected by it, above it, out of it. tho their humanness makes them one of the lab-rats.

Fashion is not putting on clothes it’s a time consuming recreational activity. Roaming the stores, gathering inspiration everywhere, looking for that coveted alignment with myself. It’s expression, it’s beauty, it’s an occupation to fill many lifetimes.

I realised, also today, that fashion, and or one’s love for fashion, is indeed two-fold kinda. For me it’s trying to find the fabrics and cuts of my soul for others it’s wearing art, fresh of the runway, unearthing archival gems…

xx