Billboard girls

Today I’m going to talk about something that has been bothering me since the last year. 

My reason for writing this now is because of an article that The New York Times published after NY fashion week. You can read it here. 

First of all, let’s think about how fashion and especially trends spread in the old days.

In the beginning fashion as a part of a culture spread the world as the regional borders were moved. Up to the end of the 18th century developments in fashion were displayed at European courts and in cities as far away as St. Petersburg using mannequins that traveled around. They were put on display in public squares for the public to admire. Funny fact: during the wars when the mannequins were transported the carriages were always left unharmed and could travel freely, for the sake of fashion of course. An independent fashion press gradually developed from the end of 18th century that brought fashion closer to the middle class. Later on designers started using famous Hollywood actresses as their brand’s faces, e.g Audrey Hepburn for Givenchy. Which closer to the present widened and that included a variety of celebrities, who have worn designer pieces into fashion history. Like who can forget Jennifer Lopez in that green revealing Versace dress with a low lower V-neck? Later designers found models as a way of advertising themselves: Agness Deyn, Kate Moss are some models that have been noticed also for their personal style. With the social media rapid growth designers have noticed its potential when been building their marketing platforms. Diane von Furstenberg captures the attention of their target market on twitter. And Louis Vuitton broadcasted their 2010 spring ready-to wear on Facebook exclusively for their FB followers. But the newest trend I believe is marketing through fashion bloggers. Which is actually not such a new trend. That have basically made these guys- the bloggers- into these guys- a brand mascots. They just suit together so perfectly, don't they?

So why is this trend growing? 

Well first of all fashion blogs are hothothot. And they are giving fashion magazines a run for their money. Why? Because the most important thing they have is the personal touch. It’s not just clothes on models and trend forecasts. It’s about giving a peek into a real breathing made-of-flesh human being’s life. So the contact with the writer and the content is much more probable to happen. A good blog is like a good friend’s visual diary. So rising popularity of blogs means greater audience. 

It’s also an additional place to build marketing campaigns to enlarge the audience. And in all that marketing strategy a blogger acts like the link between the brand and the potential audience. 

In the beginning of last year the guys behind Proenza Schouler sat down with the independent fashion bloggers and talked about how the blogsphere has extraordinary impact on the business. Because of how fast bloggers act. Now you have a group of people doing the PR for you for free. Pictures and reviews of the latest collections become viral in a couple of hours time.

“Most young designers don’t have the resources to hire high-powered PRs or have access to important editors and stylists,” said Philip Oh, a street photographer, “so lending their clothes to friends and supporters who will get photographed is a great way to get noticed by both the industry and consumers.” the article writes.

It also attracts the "right" audience. Now what I mean by that is a brand will most likely work with a blogger that embodies their brand. But that blogger also attracts that part of the audience who will most likely share their sense of style. So basically a brand connects with the perfect audience directly. 

When you’re advertising in an online community you get quick access to the latest traffic signs. A lot of blogs show statistics about how many views does that site have and from witch sources do these views come. 

There are many ways how brands work with bloggers from which the most common are small advertisements on the blog, sending them items of latest collections, collaborating, giving tours of the headquarters, hiring them as models or stylists, lending them an item for a photoshoot or for fashion week. 

All of this is really great and all. From a designers perspective. From a readers perspective? Not that much. Basically what I see is this.

These pictures were chosen here for the sake of illustrating my point. No offence, people. Okay, maybe some brand names don't go with the actual image. Like 3 of them. Can you spot the odd man out? 

I love the meaning behind fashion blogs. They are a part of my usual day and regular read. To be honest I love people, but sometimes I feel I would rather love them from a distance. Fashion tells a story and so behind every blog is a story. And I consider myself a storycollecter. But since last year I kinda feel empty the majority times after reading or looking though a blog. Looking through all of the new posts from the blogs I follow I find myself scrolling down more than actually clicking on a post to read it. It's just not inspiring anymore. The reason behind that is that the majority of fashion blogs are no longer relatable. Bloggers have too much dived into the business world. Now it’s all about selling yourself. Not your physical self but your imago. And personal style which was the first thing that hooks a person is now in the background. It's not about someone with outstanding style and someone who is trying to express themselves with normal means. Everything is too...fawncy. It's just brands walking around. It kinda feels all the same. 

This is the normal sight also during fashion weeks.

"Was it only a couple of years ago that these showily outfitted swans — stylists, bloggers, fashion editors and style-struck students — click-clacked on the pavements, showing off a mash-up of vintage clothes, fast fashion and high-end labels in what used to be seen as a commerce-free zone?"

"Today many of them are Web icons, trotting out their finery for scores of fans. But what they are parading as street style — once fashion’s last stronghold of true indie spirit — has lately been breached, infiltrated by tides of marketers, branding consultants and public relations gurus, all intent on persuading those women to step out in their wares."

“These girls are definitely billboards for the brands,” said Tom Julian, a fashion branding specialist in New York City, one of a handful engaged in a particularly stealthy new form of product placement. “People still think street style is a voice of purity,” Mr. Julian said. “But I don’t think purity exists any more.”

I totally understand what some of you may say. "Hey, just don't read them if you don't like them". I see what you may be saying. I just feel sad because of what's going on. And I felt the need to express it. There are really good blogs out there and deserve the time you spend on them. It's just that majority rules. And I have to do some cleaning up when it comes to my reading list. 

A while ago I found this video on YouTube.
You know that moment when you're just listening to a new song or sth and at some point you find yourself in this weird part of YT watching to cute&funny cat videos or an Ellen video from the long past? Okay maybe the cats and Ellen part may vary for different people, but you get the point.
So for me it was one of those moments again and I stumbled upon this silly video that has sisters and brothers all over YouTube.

I'm usually not the person to laugh at others accidents. I just triple that pain in my mind and etc etc, it's just not pleasant. I felt so bad for laughing at some falls, because as a member from the same sex I know how humiliating it is to fall on high heels...especially in front of an audience...at work. Hey, everyone has accidents. But what later crossed my mind was that a silly video like that has actually a wise point:

Fashion should be fun.

"You got shades on your eyes and your heels so high that you can't even have a good time"

Don't take the latest trends seriously. Don't go all mad for them. 

People saying "Oh God, oxblood is in fashion this fall, but it's a color that is just not me at all" stop it, cut it out, shake it off. 

Never take fashion too seriously.

Never take yourself too seriously.

Falling for fall

I'm a fall girl. 

It's my favorite season concerning nature, food, fashion, the mood and what is stands for- all is new in September.

This year it definitely hit me hard.

Recently I bought a pair of this delicious caramel color ankle booties. I just adored the color and probably couldn't unconsciously get around the fact that I have been obsessively gazing at trees too much. But I can't help it. It makes me smile. It's like I'm telling the trees inside my head how beautiful they are and it feels they are blushing at my compliment by getting red-ish and brown-ish with each passing day until they reach this wonderful golden color. 

So the warm nature colors are on every corner right now (chilling with love, as they say) and I feel like dressing like one of those beautiful trees. So if you have nothing to wear for a Halloween party this year just pick out the autumn colors from your closet and when someone ask who you are you can just reply "ermm... I'm a tree!? Can't you see?" Double plus by making your answer rhyme like an underground boss. 

So back to the boots. I was happy to introduce them to my wardrobe when it suddenly hit me. The majority of my closet is cold and dark. Those boots were the first brown purchase I did in...years? The fall girl had practically no fall colors. How ironic? 

So whenever in need for some inspiration on "what the heck do I combine them with?" just dig into Google pictures. That always reminds you of some items that you've totally forgotten about, because your wardrobe is still in Summer-time mode. As I wrote this Spring, it's once more that time to make an inventory and get inspired once again by fall and all its jewels.

Yeah, probably just me alone in this cold world that has yet to do that as the last minute person that I am. 

For me this fall the hits are oversized scarves (the statement necklaces of outerwear), mustard, burgundy, smaragd green and military green, caramel brown, gold, orange, dark grey, dark plum, suede, leather, fedoras (yeah, they are back!), oversized coats that look more like inflated , knits. 

Basically your every Sunday morning market chill. 

Current inspiration

Unisex

Lately I've found myself more and more looking through the menswear departments in thrift stores.  

(Estonian) men don't usually get lost in second-hand shops. And that I can state based on my own observations. For every 5 women there's only 1 man. And that on good days. For those who are bothered by my assumptions: yes there are exceptions, you're welcome. 

And well, when they do by some chance get lost there they tend to stick to the women's department... so I figured more for me. And less women with nails as long as eagles claws to fight with when diving in. I'm confused too here, people. I don't know how those types of plastic/gel creatures find their way into the small weird used things selling shops. 

I've written about this somewhere in the past already, but I just have to repeat it that there's just something so compelling about dressing against the typical gender roles. From a woman's perspective it's in a strange kind of way liberating. 

And by the way who ever actually claimed clothes have genders? Indeed, they are actually just a bunch of fibers intertwined. One can look at our culture background to find the answer, but nowadays it's most of all the media that gives those stacks of fibers a deeper meaning and determines how the overall perceives them. 

Remember fall last year when Kanye hit the stage at Madison Square Garden in a leather skirt and it hit every major newspaper/magazine stand and online style sites? Suddenly a skirt on a man didn't seem that ridiculous (not talking about kilts here folks) anymore (well for more people than usually) and many were commending on his bold out of the box choice. 

Of course there were those who just scratched their heads, but overall it didn't leave the public chilly as he stepped beyond the normal standards the society has created. And when someone defines those standards it becomes something scandalous. Keep in mind here what happened when women demanded the right to wear pants, e.g Marlene Dietrich and Katharine Hepburn. 

And what is more suitable than to quote the Great Katharine herself: "If you obey all the rules, you miss all the fun"

That nicely brings me to my latest find.

Hana Pesut is a Canadian photographer, who next to editorials and portraits takes wonderful pictures of good old switcheroos. In the meaning that a couple (or a group of friends) is asked to exchange the current items of clothing they are wearing with each other. And I just found it so refreshing/daring/provocative/funny/inspiring/coolio-cool that I knew I had to share it. 

It works perfectly for those dark fall nights with a trusty cup of tea to bring a bit of humor to the end of the day. Also why not stop for a moment to seriously think about this topic.

Kinda isn't that weird, right? Or have I been looking too much at them and am now brainwashed? 

For more pictures from Hana and switcheroos:

http://sincerelyhana.com/projects/switcheroo/

http://sincerelyhana.tumblr.com/

My good sir, tell me a story

The last piece I wrote I wrote with a mixture of self-doubt and nerves. It's weird. I've never felt like that before while writing here. It was the only place I could write freely without fear. It's clearly ironic how a person not friends with words decided to start writing a blog. I'm not sure if it was connected to this stubborn side of me that is fighting to get over my fears and not let them defeat me or maybe something else. Yeah, I'm not sure.
Either way, I felt really amateurish (it's not like I'm not entirely) the last time. Really struggling to get my point of views out and finding the proper words while trying to make it beautiful to read as well (which is something I'm always looking forward to in a text). I scared me even more. The lack of writing about what's important to me during the last months had a degenerative effect on me.
And in those situations what's there better to do than to write, write and write as it was once so clearly put by one of my dear friends. So here I am following his words and writing, writing, writing.
Even if my pursuits are a baloney sandwich.
So here is a take on a picture I was drawn to while wondering around Andy's blog.
I love how fashion tells a story. You know already how I love stories. When I grow up I want to be a storycollecter and if that's a bit too abstract then a storyteller will do just fine.
Hey, an idea for you! Feeling bored? Send me your story. No, seriously. Make me happy, please. 

"It took me 5 years to finally and fully understand it.

All that was necessary was a stranger in a bus-station, one glance. And voila! You, my dear, have yourself an epiphany.

You gave me the 5 best years of your life and all I left behind was a note saying "I'm sorry. I just can't do this anymore"

I've never acted just so plain thoughtless. By getting on this train I've given up on a secure relationship, a designated future, a fought-for career. Love. Stability. Comfort. 

Still I've never felt so liberated before.

I embraced your lovely words and how you arranged them until they formed the the most beautiful vision of our common future.
Seeing the world. Moving in. A ring. A house with sunflowers growing in the back yard. Kids. Grandkids. Laughing at each other's gray locks.
You were so good at building castles in the air. You were so convincing. I bought it. You made me want the same things, because I wanted you. At least I thought I did. Now as I look back I know it was the idea of you.
 I was young and I was mesmerized by what you brought into my life. 
That's how I explained it to myself.

You made me want to be a better person. But I'm not. I'm me. And I can't even believe I'm almost quoting the cheesiest movie ever made.
I really tried to fit in with this image you had of me. God is my witness, I really did. For a while even I started to believe that maybe I truly am someone different from what I thought to be. It took a brief connection with someone waiting for the same bus, a shared coffee and shared lives to come back to reality. I couldn't shut down the voice in my head repeating "you don't belong here". He was leaving for home. He asked me to come. I couldn't say no.
I'm sorry. I just can't do this anymore."

Let's talk hair

How have I been doing?

Well let's just say: long hair short.

Yup, that was the punchline and the whole story basically. Thank you for reading and I'll see you next time, folks. 

Note to self: Jane, you can't use that joke in letter, they can see you've not stopped there. Darn.

Anyway, yes, let's talk hair.

I feel like this song should be appropriate here

I guess we've all been in that position where our description of the ultimate perfect haircut we had in our mind has somehow got lost in the process. The barber's chair is where you acknowledge that 1-2 cm is totally subjective and would make a ruler into a depressive alcoholic if it would be a living thing. And a 'snip' here and a 'snip' there and you immediately regret having a haircut. Then there's nothing else to do but to give an awkward smile to the hairdresser when she asks you cheerfully "so how is it?". It's not that easy to find words in a shock state. And as you exit you give one last "I'm sorry" glance at what was once yours and is now in a sad pile on the floor. If you haven't been there then a) you have never had a haircut b) you pay a quarter of your soul for a cut c) you don't give a single thought to your appearance d) you are a manic liar/ optimist e) you can't remember how long you've had the present cut.

It's funny how we get so emotionally attached to something that is a bunch of dead cells and most important of all- it grows back. But it actually is like a security blanket we hide behind. Necessarily it becomes a part of who we are and what we say about ourselves to the outer world. Your hair tells the truth about you, literally, just watch an episode of CSI. But talking in a non scientific language the way we treat our hair nowadays shows our deeper self and our deeper state. If I'm having a bad day I can assure you that my hair is not going to look like I'm taking part of a pageant contest. And frankly that could be said vice versa also. Actually, did you know that it's been studied that a bad hair day affects men more than it does women? Tell it, sistah!

For a long time already men and women have taken pride in their hair. There's the story in the Bible about Samson and Delilah, where he's strong until she cuts his locks and he loses all of his strength. In Colonial America a man had to give his permission for his wife before she could cut her hair, because her hair was considered his possession. Or how sirens were always portrayed with silky long hair as they allured men. It was also believed that witches held power in their hair. And in the 20s women cut short bobs as a sign of rebellion against traditional gender roles. Hippies, skinheads, emos, punk kids, etc...and these stories go on and on until the present form. 

We usually associate long hair with femininity. If you think about it it's quite logical. Long hair is used as a sign of gender differentiation. That's how we tell apart little boys from girls. But it also transcends into adulthood. A Hungarian university study looked at how men described women with short and long hair. While the comments about the women with short hair were all lovely- youthful, honest, caring, emotional- men still in general preferred longer hair, because they saw it as a sign of fertility, health and stability. And another research showed that the majority of single women had longer hair as a sign of "hey, I'm single" to attract the opposite sex. 

And so when a woman cuts her long hair we presume something happened.One of the finest examples of hair being the mirror of the mind is Miss Spears. I don't even have to tell her story as everyone already knows what happened in the combination of her and a razor.

"I'm as free as my hair" sang someone who probably has more wigs than Summer has days.

Hair carries your past. That's how I see it. So this past August I decided to cut my hair short after having long hair for 3 years. And I mean loooong hair. But after having cut my hair short 4 summers ago I got bored of it and then the process of growing that bob out began. At that time it didn't really suit me, it didn't feel right and most of all the maintenance was a pain. With longer hair it was much easy and variable. When my hair was still damp I would braid it, in the morning open it and off I went. I was presentable with less effort and so it became comfortable to have long hair. In the beginning of the passing summer I had those thoughts again- why not cut it? A friend suggested not to rush with those thoughts. But I couldn't get passe them. Something happened in the beginning of August. Something that I'd been looking forward for a long time and something that changed me in some ways. Something that showed that I'm not who I thought to be and something that showed me where I don't belong. I felt I was ready to say goodbye to the past me and to make an actual statement: cutting my hair. Long hair represented 3 years of my life that had passed and I needed to move on. And I was eager to give a visit to my hairdresser. After hearing my ideas and having a look at an Ann Hathaway picture I took with myself (verbal skills of this creature: 0) she asked if I'd like to take 5 and think through my plan. I didn't even blink when turning down that proposal. I was determined. I have never been that determined when having my hair cut, like never ever. She took off more than 20 cm. When I had a look at the mess on the floor it felt like I was carrying around the amount of two normal headfull of hair.

It's not news. But I felt like writing it down now when my hair has kinda gotten used to it's length. I know it's weird to say, but that's how it feels. Or maybe it's just me who has gotten used to the new do. Even when I look like a mixture of Norman Salumäe (just Google him) and a fluffy poodle on rainy days and a hobo on windy days (and almost every third day to be honest), even when my haircut grows out like in hyper speed, even if there's not that much styles to try I'm still glad I took the risk.

I got my hair shortened today once again. My hairdresser said that it's funny, when regular people go from extra long to short they keep it like that for a month max and then decide to grow it out again, but with me it's getting shorter and shorter with each visit. I laughed, because I was one of those people before. I hope I don't lose her.

I feel free (-er).

Now, my laptop is full of pictures of hair inspirations.

So, med-short haircut girls, this goes out to you.

This girl, Karla, is my hero when it comes to flirty curly hair. How fabulous is that do?

A surprise visitor II

Howdy there, people of thy World! EMO aka Eve “Stop everything you are doing and be

AWESOME! “ is here to finish some unfinished business. I’m here to post my post

of the blogrape agreement me and Jane here had. I know, it took a what, almost 5 months, but

I have an excuse (not that any one cares. Like our literature teacher always said: “Who can’t

find an excuse for himself, is an idiot“) – I simply didn’t have ideas worthy enough to be seen

here, as this place is just too Awesome to handle, right?!

So, lately, Jane came up with this idea, which she borrowed from someone else, to write a

story based on a Fashion picture (well, she said, any picture, but I let her to decide, I wanted

a challenge). I was up to it. Why? Not only I haven’t written something properly for over a

year now, which is a total bummer, I know I should be writing stories if one day I want to

pursue my inner senses and turn them into books (shhhh, it’s a secret), but I also can use it as

my post on this blog. How more convenient can it get, right?!

Before we start, something about what influenced me while writing this. Basically, I

obviously had to choose the picture first. I try to listen to my first instinct and my eyes just

landed on this utterly magical, enhancing, something worth turning into a story. I came up

with the beginning while listening to one song, which I don’t quite remember anymore. After

that I had a fallout. Thoughts fought me in order not to become words. And then, I started

writing.

Heartbeat, sci-fi, heartbreak, yin-yang, lace, light and dark, Loom, Phantom of the Opera,

green, Kanye West-Love Lockdown, Adam Lambert- Underneath.

The proper (if any) way of reading the next piece, which is quite unusual even for myself, is

like this. Turn on you imagination – prepare it before reading. Get yourself in the imagining

mood. (Here, do something that will get you “going“) Read it slowly. Embrace it. Read into

words. Picture them. Let your own experiences, your own associations with the words create

images in your head. See the words as if they were a short film (yeah, I recently became very

obsessive about short films). Create the story. Fill it with more details, like a proper book

does it to you. Just tune yourself into something different. Reach out there where you have

never been before. Experience in those short moments something new. And then savour it. Let

it linger. Don’t rush through it. If something bothers you, come back, read it again or forget

forever. Just don’t leave it unread.

People change – the lie I didn’t believe in. I was proved wrong very soon. Sooner than I

expected, not that I expected it at all.

They say you never forget your first love. I wish I could. We met in early September. Leaves

lay under my feet when our eyes met. I didn’t have to think twice. His green eyes flickered in

the sunlight. The smile that made me want to forget the world existed. His voice, unbearable

to hear, dark and too seductive.

I wish I wouldn’t have fallen. I simply wish our ways never crossed.

He didn’t pursue me sexually. His senses reached higher. He longed for something beyond

imagination. He took me to his secret places inside his mind, carefully chosen to reflect one

or other desire of his. He bathed me in his darkest thoughts. Darkest dreams. In the dark itself.

He owned me. He owned my soul. He filled it with dark. I have never seen dark as beautiful

as he had shown me. I never understood dark until then. He was the dark.

To the outside world we were barely visible. People never see the dark, they are scared of it.

Scared of what they might find in it. I was one of them. People change.

Time was irrelevant. It stood still, yet ran faster than ever. Year has passed in a blink of an

eye.

Everything changed.

I woke up in the middle of the night only to find he was gone. In the morning, the same green

eyes greeted me. They bore a different energy to them. Light. His voice, his hair, his mind...

They were light. Luminous. Dangerous. Destroying me from the inside. He had changed.

Everything about him had changed.

He made me wear white. He kissed me. His kiss left my lips burning like Sun itself kissed

them mercilessly, leaving behind the sensation of cold. I was freezing. Light started to creep

in, forcing dark to surrender. To leave me. To leave the world he created for me. Within me.

I was left hollow.

Alone.

He disappeared.

I never saw him again.

I didn’t have time to tell him I loved him.

I am happy I didn’t.

Light consumed me.

Dark ate me.

His job was done.

Now, as you have probably turned back from wherever place you visited, I want to talk about

Jane. If you might have read, she left quite a tearful-truth-Awesomeness here - A surprise

visitor - and

I wanted to give something back.

I consider myself a very lucky person for the God or Universe or whatever Higher Power or

even Life itself bringing me into her life. I couldn’t be more grateful. I constantly remind her

how much she means to me, in case she doesn't know it already, and I know how I can get

a bit annoying with that. I can’t say enough, how much I appreciate her, love her, adore her,

admire her. About that, I admire her, because she possesses so many Awesome qualities that

you simply can't overlook them. She has this mind of hers that comes up with these wonderful

and so original ideas, she amazes me every single time [damn, this girl in High School -

she rocked, she was the one that came up with most of our great performances and other incredible thing we did during our serving time :D] She is very determined. She has so many

quirks, but I know that I have more, sorry. She is an incredible artist and craftsman. Did you

know? (Probably not) She, after she saw this post - Awesome BadAss Walk - made me this for

my Birthday?!?!:

Like, for Crying Out Loud, Woman, are you serious? She rocked my world. She always has.

Always will.

I owe her my love and a rising interest in Fashion, Fashion Images, Stripes, Black & White,

Jackets, Mixing Feminine & Masculine styles, Life. I feel like she has made my life so much

more Awesome. And she shares very Awesome music with me - great choice of music, just

bloody splendid.

.

She doesn't give herself enough credit. I never take anything for granted and therefore I

always remind her, how Awesome she is.

She once said that she is my brain/sense of reason. I totally believe her.

She is a food maniac and she eats very slowly. She loves the smell of asphalt after the rain.

She loves watching "Betty". She loves eating Spaghetti Carbonara. She bakes the best in the

world Pavlova (check here somewhere for da best recipe). She loves old-school musicals. She

doesn't have Facebook nor Twitter nor other bull*** social media demons :D . She doesn't

like being the centre of attention. She is more masculine than Timo.(You can edit that out, if

you feel the need.) She is my Socially Awkward Penguin Friend (I am one too, you see). She

loves DIY & flea markets. She has this thing when she does her nails, she leaves the left hand

pinkie finger the other colour than the rest. She loves Oreos. And yet, there is so much more

to her. There are many other things I know and some I don't...(Like she pointed out one – Do

you think you know everything about me?)

You, my dear, are the person that inspires everybody else, especially me. You are the weird,

eclectic and stunning human being. You. YOU!

And now, I give you something that we all might enjoy. Pictures. Just freaking Awesome

pictures I found in my countless (8) folders with thounsands of saved pictures. I am crazy, but

so is Jane.

For now, my time has run out here. Love you, Janey. Thanks for letting me here, on your

territory. I hope I did fine. Didn’t scare your crowd away or anything.

Stay Awesome, folks!

Your EMO.

Smart & Casual & Effortless

I was browsing through The Ultimate street style blog- The Satorialist- and just once again fell completely, naively and unconditionally in love with Italian men. Their sense of style that is. For me they are the embodiment of smart-casual-effortless dressing. Yes, that is one word as I recall. And I'm always thrilled when Scott photographs in Milan. 

Now all I can think about is linen button-ups with rolled up sleeves and unbuttoned just as low as your ego allows you without shame (and say, how charming are those wrinkles in those shirts? Probably as charming as is a charming prince on a white horse), slouchy khaki chinos, a chunky watch and a pair of white converse sneakers. Be still my heart!

And for a more feminine take...

All photos by Scott Schuman