New Orleans Style – Part 2

{ D&G // Gap }

Ooh, surprise! I lied and didn't post Part 2 of my New Orleans style quest before my trip (see Part 1 here). Meh, I was busy. What do you want from me? I'm getting too old to be apologetic about my own inadequacies.

I suppose, though, since I DID do a lot of the legwork, I might as well make this a style-postmortem rather than the informative little packing post I had planned.

So yeah, I didn't really know what to expect, other than hot steamy awesomeness (I was right). I was unsuccessful in my search to find an authentic (and good) New Orleans-based style blog. No help there. So I could only go by my perception of the city based on what I've absorbed through Googling and movies (FLAKES!). Also, my over-active imagination (it likes to make things dreamier than they are).

 { of course, I packed this skirt. but what else? }

What is NOLA style? Bohemian avec bling? Hillbilly-chic? Disco Stevie Nicks? Tragic southern belle?

(I was wrong on all accounts)

I was envisioning a soft 70s thing happening: floppy hats, long skirts. Mostly because of the heat. Fashion forced by necessity. I assumed that the music scene and the french influence MUST have some sort of impact on style. Jazz! Le Français! Bourbon! Heatwaves! Casual but classy. Breezy, effortless, classic (good GAWD, I am none of those things!).

Maxi skirts and sequin boleros! Raffia wedges and multi-strand pearls! Floral tunics and wide-brimmed hats! SO MANY HATS! SO MUCH ROMANCE!

(OK, I was postulating. And setting myself up for disappointment.) 

Whatever. I was NOT going to end up looking silly again. The nun habit and school headmistress gear is collecting dust. If we were gonna spend post-trade-show-floor time sipping fancy bourbon drinks and patting our brows with embroidered vintage handkerchiefs and absorbing some local culture (via oversexed dancing?), I wanted to look the part. Sigh, I romanticize everything.

(In reality, I was drinking king cans of Chelada and ghetto Red Bull-based "cocktails" while attempting to wrangle 5 raucous drunks. It's a living.) 

Based on my speculations, I made a healthy donation to my summer wardrobe in preparation for the trip: kelly green strapless ruffle dress, Costa Blanca cream lace shorts, swishy black racerback tank, platform wedges, H&M denim light-wash sundress, GAP birdie hair scarf, amazing was-$400-on-sale-for-$27 sequin Pink Tartan skirt!

  { costa blanca // H&M }

 { maxi dress, Winners // belt, Zara // bag, Jessica Simpson // sunglasses, vintage Ray Bans // ring H&M }

Despite the awesomeness of my new purchases, I kinda style-failed again, but at least in a direction I can handle. Nawlins is an incredibly beautiful, magical place. But it ain't fancy. I was overdressed. But hey, that's my comfort-zone, and I felt preeeeetty glam under the circumstances. Unlike Vegas, where I felt like a washed-up hag, I felt fresh and noticed. Hey, boys. Little ego boosting is good for the soul, yeah?

My packing advice (oh look, we're doing this anyway!), more appropriately-timed now that I'm a seasoned pro:

• Tiny, flow-y cotton dresses and shorts – casual, people, casual. (I wore sequins, but that's me. I'm arrogant and manage to get away with it.)
• Hair elastics - just put that shit in an up-do, yo. Heat tools and anti-frizz products? That humidity will just laugh at (then annihilate) you.
• Flats. Only flats. A comfy wedge if you have to (I had to) but girrrrl, don't even THINK about packing those pumps. The streets are either cobblestone or in terrible need of construction. And you want to be walking a lot, because it's gorg.
• A light cover-up. You don't actually need to wear a jacket outside. Ever. Even in the rain. But, those folks looooove their A/C and you'll be sorry mid-oyster feast that you didn't plan for frostbite. 

{ ikat cover-up, Everly // iPhone case, Melody Miller for GelaSkins }

{ headscarf, thrifted // necklace, J Crew // dress, H&M }

{ dress, Urban Outfitters // sandals, Zara }

Now that you know how to pack, I insist that you go.

(And, take me with you.) 

New Orleans Style – Part 1

This post is easily 3 weeks in the making. I just can't seem to make time for blogging lately. Ugh. Life. I'm traveling for work in a week and am thrilled that this particular trade show just happens to be located in New Orleans this year. Oh em geeeeee! There are so many pockets of the earth that I've yet to explore, and I'm thankful to get to see at least a little BIT of the world on the company dime. We have plenty of chill-time on this trip, too. Stoked!

So you know I love playing dress-up, yeah? Halloween trumps Christmas in my world. Themes FTW! And since I was somehow terribly ill-equipped wardrobe-wise for Vegas, I'm planning ahead. Dressing the part is a little less straightforward this time around. Vegas = short dresses + tall shoes + glitta, dahhling. Easy (though I failed). But Louisiana? Aside from wearing as little as possible (have you checked out this WEATHER?!), I need to do some investigating on appropriate/thematic style. Of course, this is all just me being a weird-o ("quirky", right?) - any city infected with H&M-itis will likely look relatively every other city suffering from the same, but I'd like to believe there's a hint of unique flavour wherever I travel.

For funsies, I decided to challenge myself with a colour palette. What better hue scheme than one inspired by Mardi Gras? We won't be in Nawlins for the event, sadly. The official colours - kelly green, bright yellow, rich purple - are difficult to cram into one outfit, but if anyone can do it, it's me. I intentionally try to incorporate as many colours as possible into my style-world. I'm hell-bent on abolishing matchy-matchy. Today I'm wearing two pink things, though, and it's killin' me (it's the dog's fault – don't ask). I'm not literally going for a Mardi Gras theme as I shop/pack for the trip, but I'm writing this as a fun exercise.

In Part 2 of this post (coming soon!), I will focus on space-saving packing with smart mix-in-match pieces and my must-haves for hot-hot weather. Basically, my REAL non-fantasy-dress-up travel style post. But for now, let's have fun with this theme. 

The two outfits above, deconstructed, plus some extra Mardi-Gras-esque goodies:

 

Larkspur and Hawk $1300 // Fulton $95

ModCloth.com // Stylebop.com

 

 LPCollection.com $225 // Dorothy Perkins $17

 farfetch.com $500 // Debenhams.com $95

 

J Crew "Minnie" pants $103 each

 luluguiness.com $495 // Marc by Marc Jacobs $420

 Karen Millen // ModCloth.com

 Steve Madden // Madewell

 oasis.com $100 each

p.s. Archie jumped up on the table and stood on the keyboard when I left the room. This was his contribution to the post: wssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss

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leaving las vegas... but not entirely

I popped my Vegas cherry this month.

And this wasn't a deflowering of the goin'-steady-promise-ring-back-of-your-Dad's-station-wagon variety. This was a hardcore-group-orgy-girl-on-girl-on-pizza-guy-porn de-virgination (not literally, mom, not literally). In my mind, I'm a jump-in-the-deep-end kinda girl. But, truthfully, these days, age and bruise-memory typically steer me towards wading in gradually. There was no room for wading. We went all-the-way Vegas (it was consensual).

Sure, yes, it was a work trip. CES, in fact. And we worked hard. Full days on our feet, smiling through the hangovers, shaking hands with shaky hands.

 

Proof.

I lost weight from replacing sleep and food with Red Bull (who AM I!?). Something I couldn't  manage to accomplish by eating salads and practicing yoga FOR A WHOLE YEAR. Is being healthy overrated?

(Full disclosure: my yoga/salad routine was intermittent and littered with burrito break-downs and way too much curry. Plus, I don't even like Red Bull.)

And... I gained back every pound in Utah a week later (next blog, peoples!). Back on salads.

So, well, here's the problem: this other facet of me was born (or better yet, re-born, born-again) in this strange, sleepless city. The dormant can't-stop-dancing party girl of my early 20s came alive again. Was I happy to see her? I'm still not sure. She's complicating my life back in the real world. She saw a poster on Pinterest this week that said "DO EPIC SHIT". She liked it. She adopted it as her mantra for 2012. Hubby reacted with a Marge Simpson-esque grunt. He is not amused. He prefers the adult me better, maybe. But will he ever understand unless he experiences it for himself? It's not really his bag. Yet, i didn't think it was mine either.

My overactive imagination has me wondering: was that the REAL me? Is the rest of this just pretending? Panic attack! It's true that I feel like an overgrown child most days. That I'm playing dress-up. I shared these concerns with Alex and he said, exasperatingly,  that I'm having a quarter-life crisis. That perked me up 'cause it means I'm living FOREVER!!! (Or, until I'm 132, to be precise.)

OK, so, it's like this dude I saw on Dr. Phil last week (I was at the gym, OK? Don't judge.). He had infantilism or a "baby fetish", as in he liked to wear diapers and be spoon fed and sleep in an over-sized crib (all "non-sexual" of course. riiiight...). But when the good Doctor asked him if it was hard to keep up the baby act, he said that sitting there in adult clothes sans diaper was the acting part. That the real him was the baby. OK, a severe comparison, maybe. But what if Vegas-me IS me??? Or at least a tiny part of me?

Melodrama. Obvi.

Really, maybe I just need more dancing in my life. And maybe "DO EPIC SHIT" doesn't have to mean base-jumping or quitting my job to pursue a career as an R&B back-up dancer (I WANT TO SOOOO BAD) or moving to Morocco or getting Nicki Minaj bum implants. Maybe it just means being that jump-in-the-deep-end girl that I imagine myself to be. Maybe it's just going out-out more. And wearing my purple sequined hat or my "fashion turban" no matter how many new nicknames I might acquire at work. And drinking extra dirty martinis past midnight on a Thursday. Check, check and check. "Epic 2012" is off to a good start. Getting the Mister on board is my next feat.

I'm committing a big Vegas no-no. I'm not leaving it all behind. What happens in Vegas... follows you home and moves into your house and stays a while? Epic.

Clearly my experience can't quite be explained in words or photos, but I'll give it the good Vegas try. Enjoy.

 

[ Gah. I need to go home. ]