Bravo, Balmain

I give Olivier Rousteing a ton of crap. The Balmain designer is supremely talented, without question, especially for a young lad still in his 20s, turning out collections with full aplomb every season without a single fail. But oftentimes it's quite difficult to see the brilliance behind all the bullshit. You see, Olivier is an active social media player and selfies are his number one affliction. The designer doesn't just post pics of himself smizing in an inspirational setting with words of wisdom or anything remotely interesting to share, oh no. That would be far too normcore for this diva. Instead, it's selfies of him in bed, always at an angle that highlights his HUGE upper lip and razor sharp cheekbones he achieves by biting the ever-living shit out of his cheeks. One or two of these posts and you're all, "oh, okay, he's pretty", but after a barrage of them and that acceptance turns into a violent "ugh make it stahhp!" rage. Selfie perp aside, Olivier is obsessed with the Kardashians. Like, OBSESSED. No one is spared, not even the mom. The designer is all up in their game, casting the sisters in campaigns, throwing parties around them as the guests of honor, putting them FROW at his shows--or even in his shows, and so on. He'd kover himself in Kards if he could. Instead he just buries them in Balmain. When he's not krazy for the K's he's surrounding himself with any other current pop culture icon strictly for praise and/or popularity. Quite like Miss T Swift, but that's an entirely different blog post.. 

Fashion is steadily slipping away from us, streaming down a path of over-sensationalized everything. My rant on this issue is never ending, but can we all please just hang on to one measly thread of originality and actual substance in this industry before it's completely gone, disintegrated for eternity (ah, remember the Calvin Klein ads with Christy? Good ole days..)? It's as if there's nothing sacred left in fashion at all. Reality stars and trust fund babies are the new models and campaign stars. Vapid little girls whom really never worked hard for something a day in their privileged lives. This wouldn't be so soul crushing if these girls at least brought something meaningful to the table. Being beautiful shouldn't be enough. Brains and pure kindness should always surpass looks. But what do I know. After all, I'm just a little known writer living in Brooklyn on dollars and cents. Mostly cents. 

Just when florescent lights seemed to dim on fashion forever, a glimmer of hope sparkled today in a very dark, unlikely corner. Balmain released photos of their latest campaign, featuring the gloriously fabulous, extraordinarily iconic, untouchable, incomparable, supermodels of ALL supermodels--Naomi, Claudia and Cindy. God hasn't exited the fashion building entirely after all. She's still got one foot in the velvet lobby. 

Thank you, Olivier. For making the smartest decision of your career yet. You've earned yourself at least a week's worth of bedroom selfies free of any shade. 

A Blogger & Her Books

In the days of modern technology and the ever-evolving world of social media, in order to be recognized for one's creative endeavors one must also be as visible to the hungrily watching world as possible. There's a firm reason "models" are discovered via their Instagram platforms today rather than noshing at the mall as they were mere "ages" ago. Millennials and kids in modern times are easily bored and always on the hunt for the next best thing to mimic, admire, or hate-on. Satiating them with something to "share" and talk about on a regular basis is the #1 way to win "likes", followers, and gain traction for that lonely blog, along with everyone else these days. So, what's a thirty-something blogger to do in the age of advanced technology and over-saturated media feeds in the hopes that she eventually collects admiration from the hiring kind? Well, she best get snappin' and sharin', that's what. 

I've been following all of the most profitable fashion bloggers for a while now and sure, some of them consistently deliver lust-worthy street-style photos and stylized tablescapes to hover over. Meanwhile, a lot of them also provoke the eye-rolls with their excessive photo-shopping and forlorn, albeit bored glances; always looking in the same direction, trying to depict a paparazzi shot and never a staged photo-op. That's fine and good for said bloggers that have already made a name for themselves this way, long before I decided to show up. But for me, no. Can't I have more to my little Instagram pics than vapid look-at-me shots even though I definitely want you looking at me? What does one do with their face during these shoots, if the goal is to simply showcase one's everyday style leisurely. I want to be accepted into the smart girls club, not just the most fashionable cliques. And, to be perfectly honest, I don't care if anyone recognizes my face at all. I'd still need a trademark stance that brought focus to my intelligence while also focusing on my styling abilities. Was this even possible? Well, dammit, I'd make it so. 

I've been a writer since I can remember. However, I started getting paid to write--or at least took on assignments (plenty of times for free) more than six years ago. I didn't get to where I am today alone, I had many influences. From Nabokov to Steve Martin, Patti Smith to Grace Coddington. Great writers with great personal styles to match. I'd use these guys to help me adapt and develop my own street-style ensembles without having to give so much silly "face" all on my own. 

And that, my friends, is how "ClothesAndProse and #ReadsAndTweeds was born. 

See ya on the social side. 

~ x Robyn 

Killer Heels!

I was perusing the addictive world of Instagram the other morning, procrastinating getting out of bed to actually start my day, when a Brian Atwood post forced me to ponder his craft. The popular shoe designer is known for his sought after, super trendy footwear for the ladies that truly believe "the sex is in the heel". Atwood is tall, dark and handsome with an equally attractive partner and quite the celebrity on the A-list party scene with besties like famed stylist Rachel Zoe and actress Melissa McCarthy, whom he grew up with in LA. Therefore, while the shoe designer might not be wearing his own heels he certainly rubs elbows with the fashion-forward ladies that covet his killer styles. This prompts me to beg the question, does he realize just how high some of his HIGH heels are?? The photo that caused me to linger on his post for a minute, wincing in pain at the mere thought of walking even four steps in these particular killers was the very culprit for this post. Ow!! 

Before I come off as a total fashion prude, let's discuss, shall we. Okay, first off, it's an absolute fact that every woman looks better in a pair of heels. After slipping a good pair on they elongate the legs by adding height while dramatically slimming the thighs. High heels make any woman feel instantly sexier. The calves and buttocks also get a tremendous workout when worn regularly (looking at you, Jessica Simpson). But this fashion habit can also dramatically wreak havoc on the female form, causing podiatry pain for life, arthritis, nasty varicose veins, lower back and pelvic problems, and bunions that are so severely painful surgery is the only option. Hey, no one ever said being beautiful was an easy, painless job.

Longterm health consequences aside, my main beef with heels that are ridiculously high is what they can do to a woman's walk in them. Ever see a gal take an embarrassingly obvious forced stride in a pair of ankle-breakers while you look on in sheer horror, feeling both terribly bad for her but also dying inside at the hilarity of desperation? Like a baby giraffe taking its first, wobbly steps. Ladies, here's one serious rule about fashion--never, EVER let the shoes or anything else for that matter, wear you. Very few things are as sad as witnessing a woman trying her damnedest to make it a block in a pair of high heels that picked a fight with her before she even committed to their abuse. Don't be that victim. Save yourself the embarrassment and figure out what styles work best for your feet. If you plan on sitting all night, wear those killer heels and be proud. But if you already know you'll be standing and/or stepping more than lounging, don't slip those bad girls on without a little help. When the shoes are just too fine and worth every bit of the pain, add at least a little protection with Dr. Scholl's gel inserts made specifically for the highest heels. These secret weapons will grant you a couple of hours without the excruciating pain sans the additional padding, and no one will know you cheated. Also, a slight platform built into the shoe under the balls of the foot make every heel more tolerable. At first glance, a platform can seem daunting given its added height, but do not be fooled by the extra inches. That thick sole is your friend. Just be careful that platform isn't too narrow, or you may have an opposite problem--staying vertical.

For those of you ladies that were born to wear the highest heels with pure finesse, and can run in 6-inchers through the streets like a graceful ballerina a-la Carrie Bradshaw, well, I salute you. Be proud of your honed swagger on stilts. Just be good to your feet and back when off duty, for the older you get, the more you start to pay for your fashion choices or lack thereof. My mom used to try and persuade me to wear "support hose" during my early 20's when I worked high-end retail and schlepped hot plates in restaurants. She's cute, my mom. I kindly laughed away her advice since she only hoped to help me stave off ugly varicose veins in my future, and instead opted for foot cushions or cute and secretly comfy styles (these do exist!). Either way, know your body and what works best for you. No styles should be off limits if you're crushing on them, just know there's ways to make them work without regretting them later. 

In the meantime, I'm all for shoe designers that tap into making a seriously sexy heel super comfy, without losing its va-va-voom appeal. Hey, anything is possible! Especially in the name of fashion. x