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How Far They've Come: Warby Parker

1.31.2014

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I was there when Warby Parker was just a website and a small hopefully bright office/showroom off Union Square. I had just started college, and I was living in this perpetual, almost naïve excitement that would show its head at the moment I found myself shaking a hand or watching another person's eyes light up as they spoke about art or their dinner. I was ready to learn about anything and everything, and  nothing had impressed me like my first visit to the Warby Parker showroom.

When I first met Neil Blumenthal, one of the co-founders of Warby, the line was pretty much brand spankin' new. He had emailed me to invite me to the showroom so I could learn about their system of buy one/donate one while also learning about their design process. I had never learned about eyewear as a facet of design, even though I've worn a pair since 3rd grade, so I figured I'd get an education. The showroom had their 27 frames and a monocle dotted amongst books and blonde pine shelves, arranged as if a child had been playing pretend with them and had gotten up to attend to their name being called, I was charmed immediately. The glasses looked expensive yet approachable in their casual arrangement. I would carefully pick up each frame and observe the bright afternoon light shine through the acetate and render each pair into a jewel. Neil went on to show me about how egregiously marked up commercial frames are, and at that point, Oliver Peoples was really the only name that would come to mind when I  thought about vintage-inspired frames while these guys managed to create the same damn thing for less and still donate a pair for every one sold, to someone in need.

I think about that day almost every time I visit their new showroom or one of their two flagship stores here in the city. They're all big, bright and beautiful, and I am so proud of these guys for pretty much changing the game while churning out new collections every season with an immense showing of integrity.

I tweeted about their Spring 2014 collection and their collaboration with Leith Clark (which totally took my breath away, I have these for school), and I came in yesterday intent on photographing that stuff. What I learned is that in the excitement of launching all these great new things for the new year, their incredible Palm Canyon Collection was pretty much glazed over and barely talked about, but lemme tell ya, I intend on talking about it because it was all so damn cool to see and learn about. Y'all don't even know.

So first off, scroll back up and look at that first photograph of the sunglasses I'm holding. Did you notice the subtle striped white marbled insets at the corners of the frames? This collection is all in the details, and the details start with the acetates themselves, which took a year to perfect. Now, acetate is made in layers of pigmented, plant-based cellulose plastic, and getting the right grain or the right dispersion of pigments and shapes is incredibly difficult because one has to deal with different temperatures and mixing processes- all done by hand, mind you.

So this collection, as you might be able to tell from its name, is inspired by the beach as a winter getaway, but through the lens (sorry, I had to) of the 1950's. Think Frank Sinatra and the Rat Pack. The acetates resemble wind-swept beaches and the clear blue skies against them. I've always been drawn to tortoiseshell glasses, buttons and combs- anything made of it, really, so the use of that look in this collection hits me right in the comfort zone as well. Tortoiseshell, although cruel in its obtainment, was a lovely precursor to plastic, and that presence of history always gets me. But it's the stripes just at the corners of the frame that make this collection sing for me. Each frame has them, and they're so much more beautifully subtle than the stroke of a brand name plastered all over the side, don't you think? The stripes serve as a reminder of their crafted-ness, of their classic appeal. I'm still geeking out over it all, and I intend on getting my hands on a pair once my damn paycheck comes through. Until then, I'm admiring the photos.

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The Westerner

1.27.2014


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Vintage shirt and skort, Asos Seesaw shoes, Preston & Olivia wide brim fedora

Hello and welcome to another glimpse into my childish existence.
Sometimes I feel like an embarrassing walking collection of clichés, but I'd be lying if I said I didn't feel comfortable in a retro wannabe's clothes from time to time.

Ribbon-tie collars translate in one of two ways for me: it's either Edwardian or something out of the American South. I don't really "do" the whole sailor/child thing with a tied collar, or at least I try not to, and to avoid that I'll keep the ribbon long and thin, almost like a spider leg. I'll tie a ribbon around this shirt since I enjoy how it looks against the black piping.

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Sunday Cinema: Fantastic Planet/La Planète Sauvage

1.26.2014









My parents took me to see this movie when I was really little- like, so little I had a hard time keeping up with the subtitles. We went to the IFC theater in downtown Manhattan, a theater that still shows absolutely lovely 35mm screenings of older films, and this was one hell of a trip for a middle schooler. To be honest, it scared the living crap out of me, I left that theater clutching my mom's hand tightly, terrified and in need of a giant pretzel.

 It took a revisiting of the film when I was 12 or so for me to really get it. This is juuuuuust when I started learning about surrealism 1. because I was wading in the adolescent soup of that teenage precursor to true self-discovery and 2. because I was too afraid to actually try drugs and get it over with. I've counted Roland Topor, who designed this film, as one of my favorite filmmakers since that intial rediscovery because, if anthing, this film just proves his genius.

Here's an incredibly roughly hewn summary of the film: The story takes place in another world, a world where humans are vastly subservient to humanoid alien beings called Traags. On the Traag planet (which is crawling with fabulous plant and animal life á la Hieronymus Bosch), humans or "oms" are treated as pets or vermin by the Traags, depending on which have been domesticated. The film follows Terr (a play on the French word Terre, meaning "earth"), a human who is raised as a pet by a well-to-do Traag child. As the film goes on, Terr breaks with his domesticated life and returns to his "roots" as a human being after becoming educated through a Traag learning device.

Two sensory things about this movie kick my ass:
1. It was HAND DRAWN. Damn film took 5 years to make, although that also had to do with the filmmaking process getting interrupted by the then-Sovet-occupied Czech government.
2. The music is absolutely incredible. Composed by Alain Goraguer, it's spooky and sexy in all the right ways: a jazz take on sci-fi. I bought the soundtrack on vinyl a few months ago and I play it when I want my environment to feel kinda syrupy and mysterious, like I'm unaware that something is hiding behind a corner.

Planet is one of those films where you need to sit down in a dark room and just let it happen, so go:

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A Little Thought on a Weekend

1.25.2014

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When I was little, my mom collected antique jewelry and was very proud of her accumulation of baubles. Every piece had a story, and she recited every single tale of acquisition while she would rearrange the dresser drawer where she kept her pieces. She would spread out her seemingly endless trays of chains, plastic and gems all over her bed in a way that made their location easy to reach. I remember climbing up as a gangly, clumsy child to admire everything with tiny fingers that would transfer from the legos I stacked with my dad in the pervious room, to the delicate dexterity required in the presence of finery. My own collection is somewhat more eclectic and varied, and I treat my jewelry more as amulets or tattoos in that they become almost like an extension my body when I choose to wear them.

While I was experimenting taking some shots above my bed this weekend, it took me right back to having that exchange with my mom as a little kid, and now I find myself in a different relationship with the things I wear as I make my way towards my final semester of school. It's weird, I'm growing up and I don't know how it's all gonna go, but I find myself reminiscing these days, and it feels lovely.

Various pieces are antique or by Vanessa Mooney, Karen London, Lulu Frost, By Boe and more.

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Fancy Feet

1.24.2014






Noul shirt, VPL coat via Bib+Tuck, AG Jeans, La Canadienne shoes, Hot Sox

The city experienced an unwelcome dusting of snow yesterday, however it gave me an excuse to break out this insanely fantastic menswear-inspired coat, which I procured on bib+tuck. VPL was actually the very first NYFW show I ever attended, so it's lovely to have a piece from the line to carry with me for a while.

Also making an appearance were my fancy feet. A little unnerving, any chance I get to wear something bizarre, I'm all aboard.

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COLD!

1.23.2014

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Vintage jacket, pants and scarf, Quay sunglasses, American Apparel Beanie, Seychelles boots

Yep, still sucks out.
These sunglasses came all the way from Australia, so they must feel out of sorts in this polar vortex we're having, but I can always use the extra pop of color.

Speaking of pops of color, I acquired this scarf when I was in desperate need of one, as it always happens. I love this thing, it has all the colors that you'd find in pretty much any Jean-Pierre Jeunet film palette (Delicatessen, City of Lost Children, Amelie...). Still, I take my long walks for coffee and take comfort in my last few days before the final semester.

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Crisp

1.21.2014

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Vintage coat, Diana Orving curtain top, vintage Dior blouse, J Brand jeans, CJG Boots, American Apparel beanie, UO gloves, Drawn & Quartered nameplate necklace

It's glorious outside!
Well, it won't be for long. I'll be eating those words next week if the snow hasn't melted and I end up having to walk to class in disgusting, dirty city sleet. 
But for now, weeeeeeeee!!

Shot these literally half an hour ago after running out for milk 'n warm apple pie and such.
I feel bad for not posting about these boots sooner, but I needed to present them in their most useful scenario. If you live up northeast and you don't have at least one pair of shearling lined boots, you're at a loss come wintertime. When your only options are to travel by foot or metro, you need a pair of something like these, and what I've got on comes highly recommended.

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Dandy

1.20.2014

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Vintage coat, sweater and skort via Nifty Thrifty, Asos turtleneck and shoes, Express tights, BDG knee-highs

At the end of the day, I mostly wear vintage clothes because they're cheap and usually made way better than their contemporary offspring.
Living in the East Village puts me in close proximity to warehouse-sourced vintage shops like No Relation and its dynamite little-sister location Village Style, so when I'm not draining my funds and time on Etsy, I'm on the prowl a few blocks away from my apartment, inhaling dust and looking for things to repurpose on a budget. 

The coat I'm wearing here actually almost went up for sale on Nifty Thrifty while I was interning there back in October. I was fawning over it in the warehouse when my then-boss Sam was like, "Oh, the lining on that piece is destroyed so you can totally have it" and folks, upon hearing that, angelic, grateful fanfare started playing in my head. The skort has a similar story, only I snapped it up after a buying trip with NT before it could even go up on the site. 
What can I say, if I likes 'em, I gotta have 'em (if I can afford 'em, that is). 

Now, on the flip side, I usually turn to major outlets and commercial clothiers (if one can even call them that) for basics, like these shoes and top from Asos. The shoes are amazing,  they've been through rain and snow, and they're still not even fraying out or ripping. So, to say the least, they come highly recommended if you're looking for a witchy-mod option for walkable footwear.

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The Works

1.17.2014

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Vintage coat & dress, Preston and Oliva Telescope hat, Forever 21 shoes (surprising, no?), Drawn and Quartered nameplate necklace

Oh, the things one can find out of necessity.
I found this gorgeous English tweed coat last year (er, 2012..it's too soon okay?!) after I had arrived upstate for winter break only to realize I was WAY unprepared for the cold and the snow. So, without a proper coat, I reverted back to high school antics and moseyed on down to A+ Thrift, and lo and behold, this magnificent specimen was winking at me from across the dusty aisles.

Every winter I look at this coat hanging in my closet and go "ehhh...its sleeves are really big on me, I should get it tailored first..." but then it gets ridiculously cold out and I'll throw it on, not really caring about how it looks with what I've got on. I'll look at myself in the mirror before heading out for milk or whatever, and then go "Huh... I feel like a cockney gangster in this...Yesssss...!" and then I will proceed to walk to the grocery store with a smug sense of coolness that I do not possess, but like to think I carry around from time-to-time.

Ever walk around with Dave Courtney's voice narrating the mundane parts of your trip in your head? That's what this coat does for me. It's less about looking like the guy as much as the coat makes me feel like a huge, bulky, hunkering madman -er , woman; sauntering down the street with me coat dragging behind me in in the fog.
Now, where are my brass knuckles?

So here I am, wearin' this thing like the magic carpet it is, with a dress that would render me scantily-clad otherwise. I do love the dress though, found it on Etsy over the summer before knowing I would go through the wannabe-New Wave phase I'm experiencing right now. I put all these elements together, and for a second, I was like, "Ooooh, very Lydia Lunch, no? That's the direction we're going today, Claire? Alright, let's go beat someone with a pipe, steal some red lipstick, write some sexually uplifting poems in Thompson Square Park under one of the hawks goring a pigeon and call it a day."

Oh yeah, and I got my hair blown out.
Methinks it looks decent with a hat on, probably even better than when my hair is curly, but boy when the headwear comes off, I look like Cher after a fight with a broomstick. I don't entirely know what I mean by that yet, but hey, it's something different at least, no?

In hindsight, I realize that these posts sometimes aren't terribly informative, but I like to think of them more as "alkalinized". Maybe I need to start effin' shiz up so I can tell stories that are less "LOOK AT THIS COAT" and more "THIS COAT CAME OFF THE BACK OF A DEAD MAN AND IS HAUNTED!"

It's not.
I think.

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Youth

1.15.2014

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Vintage shorteralls (I hear that's what the kids are calling them these days), Pöl sweater, American Apparel jacket, vintage blouse, boots, pins & Heritage Coach backpack, Vanessa Mooney Hand chain

Apologies for the brief hiatus, I figured it was a good idea to stop using my laptop charger when it started sparking and smoking all over the place. 

Thanks to an overcast afternoon, y'all might not be able to tell I'm wearing overall shorts here, but I can assure you, they ain't a teeny tiny mini skirt of embarrassing doom. I think it's safe to say I felt compelled to wear these pieces after considerable discussion of the impacts of charming, albeit racist and totally un-PC cartoons like Babar and Tintin. I layered the shorteralls with the usual school kid accoutrements: a button-down with piped edging, buttons on the jacket collar, knee socks and a cashmere sweater. 

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Sunday Cinema: Blow-Up

1.12.2014














Having a photographer for a Dad, I kind of had my head up my own ass as a kid in a tiny high school thinking I immediately knew all the things about the importance of photography before I studied it in college, but it's taken a bunch of stuff- like this here film "Blow-Up" to see that I pretty much know zilch, and that there can be almost nothing more essential to being a person than a change in perspective from time-to-time. 

And now, little context:
Directed by Michelangelo Antonioni, Blow-Up was shot in London during 1965. 
During the 60's fashion photography experienced a new kind of pop sensationalism. All of which started with photographers like David Bailey, Richard Avedon, Cecil Beaton and William Klein. 

So, the film follows this dashing-yet-bossy asshole of a photographer played by David Hemmings, which is, essentially, the kind of personality one might expect expect from an artist who knows what he's doing. It's pretty much a day-in-the-life gone awry: He has a shoot with Veruschka in the morning (in a famous scene, which I'll get to in a bit), which makes him late for one fashion shoot after another, until finally, his nerves and boredom get the best of him, and he goes to a nearby park to shoot some photos for his own sake. After a run-in with some lovers he secretly photographs in the park, he later discovers, after developing the film, that he has photographed a murderer and a victim.

The film is of course, shot deliciously; mirroring a duality of precision and raw energy that (then) photographers channeled for their images. The cast is also just chock full of 60's icons like Jane Birkin and The Yardbirds, so you're constantly at the mercy of pretty faces and enviable creatures decked out in awesome clothes. It's a slow-moving film, but you're never in short supply of gorgeous imagery and fantastic performances.

And now, the takeaway:

About two years ago, I took an Aesthetics class at Parsons.
The class, taught by this dude named Paul Kottman (who was also a guidance counselor of mine), dealt in aesthetic philosophy, literature and the social factors which have an effect on the ways in which we perceive art. Our professor (wisely) chose Blow-Up as an excellent way to summarize some of the points made by Walter Benjamin in his seminal work The Work of Art in the Age of Mechanical Reproduction. To quickly summarize, Benjamin sought to explore the ways in which a work of art might depend on contexts- such as reproductions, historical scenarios, subject matter, shifts in taste, and technical achievements in order to be considered a wholehearted original.

One of the most important elements of art that Benjamin describes is the "aura", or, the element in a work of art that its reproduction would lack; the truth, the essence of the moment and the artist. Photography is a funny thing, because it's an art from that 1) Relies on a machine with some technical expertise on the part of the photographer and 2) Is, inherently, the art of reproduction. When you have a negative of a photograph, you can print or expose it any time you'd like, so calling a photo an "original" is kind of impossible. 

For Benjamin, and as the subjects in Blow-Up demonstrate, everyone has their own aura, and everyone "gives it up" when they step in front of the lens of a camera to be photographed, and this is a very, very powerful thing. I mean, in the movie, when Hemmings' character is photographing Veruschka, in the heat of a very intense arch int he shoot, he shouts and orders her to "Give it to me!!" The "it" that he is referring to is the model's aura, the very essence of her presence in front of the lens that will make his work something of value.

Do you ever think about your aura? In this historical moment of blogs, instagrams, facebook... how much of our auras have we given up?  This, essentially, is part of what Blow-Up can teach us.

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