2005 October » Bunnyshop

For Some Reason Most of the Pictures Here Are Really Horrid: Striped Sweater-Hoodies

10.15.2005

Here are our three least favorite words in the English language: hump, bump, and lump. Headlines like “First Bump Photo” (see: cover, Us Weekly, re: Katie Cruise) make us want to disavow our society and join one of those cults where you all hop on a passing comet or something, like on CSI. And that Black Eyed Peas song: OK, it sounds all nice and fine, and then you get to the part about the “lovely lady lumps,” and it’s like, what? Tumors? What? Can’t we just go back to reclaiming “tits” or something? “Ass”? Anyone? However, we are simultaneously impressed with their ability to incorporate True Religion into a song.

Anyway, this posting, as you could not possibly have guessed from the paragraph above, is about striped sweaters. See, that Ella Moss sweater at top is like designed for a … bump! Right! Yay! Babies!!! We are going to try not to hold that against the sweater.

Anyway: Stripes. Sweaters. Nothing could be easier. Like peanut butter and jelly — which, come to think of it, we feel is fairly disgusting, but you know what we mean. As above, Ella Moss. See? It ties right over the baby. Babies!!! Yay! $165

Okay, this picture is not so hot: Whoa! Is it cold in here? Perhaps I’ll raise my hoodie, and arrange it beside my face-framing layers. But don’t hold it against the Lily McNeal sweater. The sad truth is that we expect the actual hood part of a hoodie to remain like a vestigial tail, or something: Sure, it’s there, but it’s not there to actually be used. $116. It’s cotton, but nice cotton.

And truly, we know we are probably in the minority on this, but we love the new Fair Isle-y sweaters from Vince. They’re so one step away from being reindeer sweaters — actually, one of them may, in fact, have a reindeer — but they’re Vince, and Madonna wears Vince, so they must be cool, right? Totally! Yay, Madonna! Babies!! Yay! We’d buy this, wear it once, be horrified throughout, and then sell it at a garage sale. Everything about it is ridiculous: the color, the fur collar, the pattern. But we are strangely drawn to it, like buzzards. Er, that analogy kind of got away from us. $345

And as a Fair Isle sidebar, here’s this Alexander McQueen wool sweater. It makes us want to move to Scotland and knit.

And this is from Mayle, though we can’t remember how much it costs, which is the kind of cracker-jack reporting we hope you’ve come to expect. Tss, so annoying. But it’s all furry and stripe-y and nice — not a hoodie, but it does have a high and substantial neck, and we need to take a long and substantial nap. We saw this at Metier in San Francisco, but we imagine you could also find it at the Mayle store in NYC, 242 Elizabeth Street. Satine also has quite a bit of her stuff. Isn’t it weird that Jane Mayle is sort of a travel-writing, American Stella McCartney, her dad being the guy who wrote all the A Year in Provence books?

Look of the Day: A. F. Vandevorst

10.15.2005

It’s autumn, not spring, and we can barely wrap our heads around a new season of House, nevermind clothes we won’t be unable to afford for six more months. Er, in the sense that we’ll never be able to afford them, and that we’ll be confronted with this fact in six months. This whole posting was supposed to be about the gay fantasia that mysteriously appeared at a suburban Lord & Taylor’s this weekend, but stupid shit Picture Mail from Sprint has decided to stop working. Ergo, our review of the fall collections. Our argument: It’s fall. Okay, maybe we’d take a look at resort or something (for when we go to the resort of Grand Army Plaza, say, or the F train, which was pretty spectacular during that monsoon on Saturday night), but we’re not thinking about spring until someone calls to tell us that the crocus are blooming. Did we mention that today’s coverage was supposed to be a gay fantasia?

We’re beginning at the beginning (thanks to style.com) with A.F. Vandevorst, the Belgian husband-and-wife team. Belgian, in this sentence, is defined as “enamoured of sticking Mickey Mouse ears on their models’ heads, because they are so freaking edgy.” (Did we mention the runway here was on an ice rink?)

This was, unbelievably, our favorite look. Cable knit sweater; cable knit sweater coat; bizarre, dangling-hem skirt; and polar bear boots. Ooh, plus the furry ears. What do we take from this? Seriously, this is how we spot actresses at Sundance, in their furry boots and mini-skirts and sweaters, always running around looking for coats. (Favorite Sundance interview ever, with 7-11 employee: “All these fucking bitches from L.A. show up in tank tops, and then they realize that ‘ski resort’ means it might fucking snow.’”)

Now okay, we’re not doing the double-sweater thing, and the furry boots and mini thing … no. Just no. But we’re totally into a cable-knit sweater coat, and this one from Theory is so sweet — brown, cashmere, and extremely expensive at $380. You know how to get over that? Buy it, then tell yourself you’re going to put a dollar in a jar each time you wear it, in the “Theory Sweater Fund.” (It is crucial to buy the sweater before instituting the jar thing.) Then, as the pain of spending $380 on a sweater lessens, take the money in the jar and spend it on take-out. When calling credit card company: Hold earpiece away from actual ear when full balance is announced on phone, while calling to get minimum amount due. Enjoy beautiful sweater. Success!

Keeping Ourselves Warm And Comfortable As We Await The Flames

10.14.2005

Last night we had the pleasure of coming as close to a fiery highway death as we have ever come, at least as far as we know. Tonight, we arrived home to an apartment with a malfunctioning door. We pushed through it by rushing it, linebacker-style. We discovered that “linebacker-style,” unfortunately, was not an option when it came to opening the door from the other side—in other words, reentering the bright, sunny world of the living—because from the inside, you need to pull, rather the push, the door. Pulling the door open required 80 minutes, a rubber potholder, a pair of shoelaces, and so many curses, we couldn’t even count them all. So then, after we’d returned with our disgusting, stress-induced cheeseburger fix, we asked ourselves: Would we rather leave our door ajar all night, until the locksmith comes in the morning, and risk variously disturbed ex-hippie serial killer intruders? Or would we rather close the door, risking the chance that if we needed to leave quickly, it would likely again require 80 minutes, a rubber potholder, and a pair of shoelaces? We chose the latter. We are awaiting our fiery apartment death.

In the meantime, we are focusing not on striped sweaters, as we had planned to, but a few warm and fuzzy things, because perhaps if we focus on them, we will not want to rip out our landlord’s heart and eat it.

Above, the Vince cashmere hoodie sweater. We know, we know; it’s not even trying. But how hard to you need to try when awaiting apartment inferno // home invasion? Seriously, we’re chilling. So to speak. $245

Cashmere blanket. Brora. 140 cm X 190 cm. No idea how big that is, but we bet it’s nice and warm. By the way, Without a Trace producers, we love the fact that the new female “special agent” just happens to be hot, and in her first episode, she and Sam just happen to go “undercover” as prostitutes offering themselves as a package deal. Honestly, it is so awesome being a woman. As long as you’re hot and don’t mind acting like a prostitute. Fucking subtle, guys. Anyway, blanket, $575

Cacharel mittens. Perhaps these could cushion our blow if we jump from our window, hands first, in effort to escape flames. $165

The Us Weekly Home Companion

10.13.2005

Part 1: Possibly the best Us Weekly of all time. Can you imagine the orgasmic joy shared by editors as they finally, finally got their truest wish, the nail in the coffin of the Jessica Simpson-Nick Lachey marketing drive\\ marriage?

And part 2, featuring the very best thing we have ever, ever seen in an Us Weekly magazine. We do not exaggerate. For home reference, you’ll find it on page 76.

Style Lab: The Ridiculously Fluffy Coat

10.12.2005

Style Lab, formerly known as “Do I Look Fat in [X]?” future-ly known as the place where you can have your style questions debated by the Bunnyshop style community. For instance, rather than the fat-issue, which we now recognize to be as dated and painful as Nicole Ritchie will be in about twenty-five minutes, this week we ask: “Is this ultra-puffy white fluffy J Lo-style coat good or evil?” Butter or margarine? Paris, France, or Paris, Hilton?

Er, you get the idea. Personally, we think it’s excellent, without reservations — a little chunky in the shoulders, but that’s just the price of doing business in Kazahkstan, as they say. And note the ultra-mini black “privacy” box, to better show off the very good haircut, as well.

As always, constructive criticism is adored; random bitchiness will be destroyed, cast out, made into lye, etc. etc.

Look of the Day: A. F. Vandevorst

10.11.2005

Yellow Vests

10.10.2005

We’ve always been of two minds about vests: warm, yes, but not warm enough to avoid jackets. There seem to be like five days a year when the weather is vest-appropriate. But we still buy them. It’s masochism at the cash register. And now that there are all these cute yellow ones … it almost makes us angry to see ones we like, because we know we’re going to buy them, and then it’ll either be too cold or to hot to wear them, and we’re going to be all pissed off. .

Anyhoo, the Diesel Ivrev jacket. Now, we’ve seen some absolutely nauseating Diesel ads lately, like the one with the man with his back to us, and his face wedged between a women’s thighs. Keep it on Skinemax, people. But we still like this vest, which makes it an even more self-loathing purchase than normal. The white “contrast banding” is just a little bit of retro excellence without getting all annoying about it. $110

And okay, this True Religion is a little overembellished, but it’s still quite good. $187

And finally, this option from Vince. Yellow’s sort of an accent color here, but it’s nice and warm and Vince-y (exceptionally expensive).

Belts: Good

10.07.2005

We’ve come around on belts: We used to think they were like those ridiculous “warranty” things at Radio Shack, where someone recently offered us a $15 “protection plan” on a $25 pair of headphones. “But who protects us,” we said, “from your bullshit protection plan?” But belts, we’ve learned, have a purpose beyond holding up pants (like stupid Lee Jeans, which has the most bizarrely sized, narrow-thigh, gigantic-waist fit in every pair they sell). Belts provide a considerably larger degree of polish than we had ever considered possible. We found ourselves standing next to this women at a store last weekend, and we enjoyed hearing all about how her boyfriend was taking her “to Baja” while she ignored a cashier to focus on her cell phone call. But she was wearing a belt, and we were not, and we were still jealous of her, despite her obvious hideousness (psychological, clearly and sadly, not physically). Did we mention how much we are enjoying our exile in a certain city in California?

Anyway: belts. Good! We are going to ignore, for the moment, our past favorites: Hollywood Trading Company (despite the Jessica Simpson fandom) and the deliriously beautiful Presh.

Above, Beals Cowboy Buckles. Totally cowboy. Maybe even a little too cowboy, like a little too ready for Halloween. Like, it would be very weird to pair it with cowboy boots, or a cowboy-detailed shirt — sort of like the female equivalent of Jon Voight in Midnight Cowboy. (But if you’re the kind of girl who’s throwing on a cowboy hat to go out night … we say go for it, because you probably already look like an idiot.) They’re pretty bad-ass, though. If this one wasn’t $550, we might get it.

As it stands, in a world where we just saw a tank of gasoline for $3.85 a gallon, we’re going to have to sell our clothes just to pay the Con Ed bill. We’d be more likely to get this Big Texas Star Buckle, which is a comparatively minimal $75.

The Kama Sutra freaks us out, and we don’t want it on our buckles.

But the rest of this designer’s belts are cool, like this bee belt, $80

CYDWOQ belts are beautiful. They remind of so much of belts made by that asshole-ish company we will not promote here, due to their tendency for making asshole t-shirts to be worn exclusively by assholes. We totally know we were talking about belts here. This one is $99

Outfit of the Week: As Close as We Can Get to Gauchos

10.06.2005

We tried so, so hard to get behind the gauchos thing. But seriously: When models look fat, we must say no. And we have never seen a pair of gauchos that weren’t swimming around the wearer like a five-year-old clinging to his babysitter in the pool. Peeing. We add the peeing part because the gauchos \\ child are embarrassing the wearer \\ babysitter. So: gauchos. Just can’t do it.

But we don’t want to be all miserly and cranky about it, so we offer instead this Tom K Nguyen cropped corduroys, which, we feel reasonably sure, are much, much better than gauchos or their nasty, vengeful half-brother, the capri.

Look closely and you’ll see the Nordstrom’s stylist paired them with flesh-toned patterned tights, which we can’t support. An FOB suggested pairing them with these blue Emilio Cavallini footless leggings ($17.99) and flats. Not entirely sure if they take orders from non-tranvestite non-strippers, but perhaps.

We feel those leggings are a little too off-night Gwen Stefani, but fair enough. For girls who are not six feet tall (nor transvestite strippers), we suggest these … gorgeous, gorgeous gorgeous Balenciaga d’Orsay pumps (but we’d wear them in brown) or these baby-blue wedges. Ah, Balenciaga.

But, ah, one pair of gauchos. These are quite excellent, though we really can’t support the cowboy-boot pairing. In fact, this is actually one of the less egregious pairings we’ve seen: Why, oh, why, would someone pair gauchos with giant, swimmy boots? But with a pair of heels, we’d actually quite like these Minnie Wilde gauchos ($110), especially in the black corduroy — they’re cut fairly narrow, and never get too crazy through the hip, which is really all we can ask of them.

The Return of Brown Corduroy

10.05.2005

There was a girl in our college department who wore brown corduroy pants and a dirty t-shirt practically every day for four years. She was gross and a half, and put us off brown corduroy the same way puking them into a toilet when we were four years old put us off Krumpets for 15 years. But brown is just so lovely and neutral and fall-appropriate, and corduroy is … well, it’s fine, and as we recently saw, everywhere.

Like these True Religion. There is such an element of swallowing the Kool-Aid with True Religion. It’s just mass hypnosis, no? Sorry, but that white thread detailing is bad. Bad. Bad. The Joey Corduroys, $240

These are better. AG cords, $139. The True Religions are Paris Hilton, and the AG cords are … someone who can keep her pants on in public. They’re just not as desperate or pathetic. They have a modicum of self respect. When will someone explain to us why Paris HIlton was on the cover of Vanity Fair? Argh. AG cords from South Moon Under, $139

That model just looks exactly like Michelle Branch to us. Minus the baby attached to the boob. Since we’re just totally overwhelmed by the whole velvet jacket thing — it’s like someone’s been screaming “Velvet jacket!” into our ear, as we try to sleep, for the past two months — corduroy could totally be the ticket. And this Wrangler jacket looks nicely fitted, even if the back vent is a little too tweedy (in philosophy, if not material) for our taste.

This one from Twill Twenty Two loses the academic bent, which is nice. Quite fitted, there. The annoyingly non-functional pockets are balanced out by the functionally high top-button. $198

And here, a little journal for our little college friend. A brown journal to go with her brown pants, which she never washed, for recording all her little thoughts about why she hated people who watch TV. Derr. Less annoying people could use this as well, though we’d give anything for it to lose that button. Brown Journal from Etsy, $15

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