Dressful

I wanted an ordinary, but not too ordinary pair of black suede pumps for December festivities to go with my two outfits. These Guess suede pumps have earned the nickname "dino shoes" because the studs on the counter resemble dinosaur spikes. They're not as dangerous as the spike on the "license to kill" Alexander McQueen Fall/Winter 2011/12 wedges, but they could hurt if I tried.

This fall I started wearing my mom's old veiled hat. The only piece that aligns with my signature mood of simultaneously wanting to hide and to stand out (the eternal struggle expanding far beyond fashion), it moulds my personality to feel at ease anywhere. I'm protected by the veil, but I'm not the same as everyone else. All I ever wanted from fashion.

The majority of my wardrobe consists of beautiful, intricate pieces like this black mesh and tulle Max Mara top, not meant to be wasted for quotidian affairs. In theory, their elegance could transform the affairs into fairy tales. In practice, I need a prescription for [sartorial] apathy. I'm not bothered by my wardrobe's overall lack of practicality; I prefer my clothes to be a reflection of my inner world, though it continuously fails to overlap with the outer world. Is it that my wardrobe doesn't suit my life or my life doesn't suit my wardrobe?

Gorizia, December 8, 2011. The sales assistant undressed the mannequin in the window so I could try on the top; it was the last one. I usually don't have any make-up on for shopping; a coincidence that proves beneficial when deciding whether I want something or not. I'm only interested in clothes that make me look better than I had looked before I tried them on. The garment itself has to have that power, not make-up or accessories.

After I had changed into the top, I saw my otherwise tired face in the mirror looking fresh and radiant. The light bouncing off the sewn-on necklace illuminated my skin. A mesmerized sigh that made the sales assistants smile sealed the deal.

-- Invite me somewhere secret and glamorous
so I can debut the top before fashion weeks.
We can not wait this time. --

I bought these Marc by Marc Jacobs boots in New York in September. After several years of successive fiascos with ballet flats and my brown brogues still giving me blisters after months of wear, I knew I needed another type of "everyday shoe".

I was leaning towards this kind of boots from the start – not surprising since I'd run out of all other options – but none of the ones I kept coming across were perfectly right. The day I found them I was out and about in East Village, touring consignment and second-hand stores with a bottle of Vitamin Water in hand to help me battle dehydration. A large part of Manhattan is covered in skyscrapers, meaning sun rays barely come through. East Village, however, is one of the neighborhoods that become a real kiln once the temperatures go up.

Cadillac's Castle, the consignment shop on East 9th Street where I found the boots, looked more like an upscale designer or concept store. It was a reflection of someone's impeccable taste. The other consignment stores I visited in Manhattan do have their gems, but they also sell many pieces that are only expensive because of the label. At Cadillac's Castle, every piece's price tag was justified by that certain "something" and pristine condition (not to mention Cadillac's Castle has unbeatable prices compared to other stores).

After trying on the boots (new, half retail price), I was on cloud nine and told the owner he had an amazing selection. He thanked me for the compliment, not surprised in the least. This is what I love about New York: everyone knows their worth.

+++

Two days ago my brother and I shot these photos on a beach on the other side of the world. The boots that made their debut on the streets of Manhattan have probably seen more places than I realize. It's romantic, the notion of something inert taking trans-Atlantic voyages. Where will I take them next?

The most special dresses are those that can only be referred to in singular. A dress that will not be repeated in any place or time. When you're the only person to own a dress, you inevitably think about the rare and special possibility that out of all people in this world, the dress has been entrusted to you. What are the odds? This dress is so majestic and different you'd think it's only worthy of major fashion weeks, but I promise I will wear it elsewhere too because it needs to be seen, it needs to breathe and live. Thank you, Andreja.