At the rate we’re breezing through the fall collections, we’ll be lucky to finish up by fall … 2009. Let’s see, it’s almost December, and we’re not even through the As. That is a masterwork of corporate planning. This is why we keep getting fired from office jobs.
Anyway: Alexander McQueen! We include this photo not because it so neatly encapsulates his F\W trends, though it does, but because of the use of gloves. Someone e-mailed us looking for our position on and advice re: the wearing of gloves, and we were like, no fucking idea. We wear mittens. But these gloves look just right, in the sense that even though they look costume-y (our problem with gloves), the entire look is costume-y, so who cares. It’s kind of like when two people you hate get into a fistfight: Either way, it’s cool.
We saw this on Angelina Jolie, with jeans and a basic black top. Can you believe this coat is 100% polyester? We’re sure we must be reading this wrong, and yet: There it is. $2480. Surely H&M must have something similar for like $16.99, no?
We’ve put a temporary hold on our Us Weekly Home Companions because they’ve been so tragically boring lately—of course, that will change with this week’s issue, which should reach some sort of Kennedy-assasination level of journalistic breast-beating drama. (Seriously: Who releases their separation statement to a gossip magazine? Who does that? This, this is the price we pay for listening to stupid people.) This did not, of course, stop us from purchasing the current issue, featuring Angelina Jolie in an excellent trench and bizarrely skin-colored heels, and discovering that Reese Witherspoon has purchased the entire Tara Subkoff collection for Easy Spirit.
First, let us say, that we like these. These remind us of a story our old boss told us, about this day he saw Lisa Ling in a coffee shop, and she was wearing thigh-high boots, and how he wanted to marry her. Then he couldn’t figure out if he’d actually seen Lisa Ling or Lucy Liu. “The View,” we kept saying, “or Charlie’s Angels?” But he’d never seen either. Conundrum. For him, anyway. Wedge boot, $595
And we just hate, we just absolutely could not detest more, these. They would be worn by a serial killer. A male serial killer. Or a club kid. Seriously, we can admit that we just aren’t fashion forward enough for them. We just hate them so much. We feel like there should be little men living inside of them. Little men who would kill you, given the chance. Tall wedge covered boot, $695.
So in the first installment of our hopefully, approximately month-long collection of our small community’s heart-y-iest hopes and wishes, here is a note from our friend Laurel Ann:
“Dear Bunnyshop:
What I really want for Christmas is this lynx pillow from Salvor. I used to be obsessed with lynxes (lynxs? lynx?). I kind of still am. How fun would it be to walk into your house and see a lynx pillow there? Pretty fun.
And for the thing I can’t have, I would really like a puppy, or a new friend to discuss this book Atonement with me, because I am obsessed with it.
We’re at the mall. How do you possibly explain Thanksgiving to a non-American: “First, it’s all about family and food and bestowing good tidings etc., and then it’s three days of sifting through $7.99 bras at Victoria’s Secret and getting into fights with your sister about the proper degree of aggression to be used when procuring a parking spot”? Er, maybe that’s just us, and everyone else is at church. No idea. But see you very soon.
And please, please: We believe that everyone wants things, both material and immaterial, for Christmas, or the holiday season in general. (For example: “I want you to get your ass in the car right now so we can go to the fucking mall!” That would be an example of immaterial.) So please, we would like to known yours: your Xmas wish for the material (sweater) and immaterial (true love, etc.) E-mail us at bunnyshop@mac.com.
Because we anticipate doing nothing this weekend except (a) sitting on a plane; (b) shivering violently due to lack of East Coast-appropriate clothing and \ or reluctance to actually wear the Abercrombie coat we purchased prior to their production of “Baghdad Ass Up” t-shirts; and (c) gaining weight, we present our official Christmas list. For ourselves, of course. And if anyone else would like to comment with their own choices: We would be interested in what people want, when those people are not (a) kids, because seriously, they get enough attention this time of year, or (b) gamers, who all want that xbox or xBox or XboX or whatever.
1. We’d start with a Saab convertible, but that perhaps that goes too far. Nothing says “gift that keeps on giving” like some magazine subscriptions, and these are our favorites: Vogues (UK and FR), Domino (house porn), Elle (US), W, and Nylon. And, if we could, the Sunday Times (UK) Style section, which is possibly our favorite fashion publication in the entire world.
You know, seriously, we wouldn’t mind if nobody gave any gifts at Christmas. Wouldn’t it be nice, maybe? Just carols and holiday-appropriate Muppet movies?
It’s not like we have such severe anger-management problems, but we can safely say that every time we go through a security gate at an airport we are about 30 seconds from committing a murder so bloody and heinous and ritualistic that it belongs in an episode of The X Files. And when we’re called over for that special women’s-prison prodding: Let us just say that we. Want. To. Kill. We remember when it was reported that airport screeners make less than cashiers at McDonald’s. We have no idea whether this is true or not, but all we can say is: Motherfuckers, give them the money. Whatever it costs. Surely Halliburton can skim off some of that oil money they’re so excited about and buy the country some competent airport screeners. Because if we have to fucking hop barefoot through one more goddamn airport, we are seriously going to lose our shit.
Once, we were at Newark Airport, going on a trip that would take us out of the country for several months, and we were told, along with everyone else, to remove our shoes. And this confused looking man in front of us, with a British passport, looks at us and goes, “I forgot what a crazy country I was in.” And the thing was, if he hadn’t been British, we would have been, like, “This totally sucks,” all friendly-like, but instead we got all weird and depressed and patriotic and just said, “U. S.-motherfucking-A, motherfucker.” Or, actually, “Excuse me?” Either way, we’re not wearing any shoes with straps tomorrow, when we enjoy our five-hour transcontinental flight back to, thank God, Brooklyn, USA.
We always feel quite smart, actually, when we wear our Havianas to the airport, even if it’s 15 degrees outside. Love these. These actually make me a littel nervous, what with the white sole, because they end up looking tatty if, for some reason we cannot possibly come up with, your feet are muddy. But love, love, love the brown, especially in Havaiana form. Here is our favorite Havaiana story: We went to yoga, like usual. Two days later, we looked down at our feet, and realized we were wearing black Havaianas. We owned black Havaianas. But with a little Brazilian flag on them. So we’d been walking around in somebody else’s shoes, and vice versa, for two days. Excellent!
These look like there are little gold taffeta hummingbirds on them, but we still love them: Moschino Cheap + Chic Metallic Bow Flat. And the little heel! Divine. $395.
Sigerson Morrison. They’re like Saabs for us: We just dream of owning as many as we’d like. Also available in black if the red is a little too Dutch whore. Not that these are Dutch-whore at all. Maybe Dutch call-girl. Also $395.
Twelfth Street by Cynthia Vincent. We like these because they are totally gold ballet flats without being too metallic about, and also because they’re not too non-metallic (read: tan) about it. Rather a nice balance, we think. $359.
We’re not sure if we got around to the point about this column being about flats, in addition to shoes without straps, ties, laces, etc., because no one needs to be running around an airport in heels. This Roberto Del Carlo has a tiny heel, and a very nice yellow color, and we would wear them all the time. $202.30
It was not, sad to say, the fashion highlight of the movie, the movie that we are apparently still a tiny bit obsessed with. We leave thinking: Well, seriously, if we all tried very hard, could there not be some sort of institute of magic? That we could attend? Our ex-roommate says he often feels the same way, only about the Xavier School for Gifted Youngsters \\ Mutants.
Sigh. Anyway: Hermione’s gown. We do not know why she is standing in tadasana. The film’s fashion highlight was actually, of course, the Beauxbatons uniforms, all v. Victorian \\ Florence Nightingale-y, and quite nice when they wore the matching gloves – not exemplary, but quite nice. Hermione’s gown, however, we did not enjoy as much as we wish we had. In fact, we sort of prefer the $35 Harry Potter Replica Hermione Gown, available at your local Marks & Spencer. Apparently the original version required “12 metres of chiffon and took three months” to make. That is a fucking lot of chiffon. For a little bit of an unfortunate Jessica McClintock c. 1992-prom vibe, no?
We were going through our closet (read: pile of clothes on the bathroom floor) and we realized that (a) we own one, single bra, because we just have no idea where they get to on their own, and (b) we have no t-shirts, except for one from Old Navy which reads “Just a Waitress Until I’m Discovered” — and which, we have been advised, is classist, and we should not wear to restaurants in case we hurt the wait staff’s feelings. We were well aware of the bra situation (seriously, we just can’t be bothered, and that’s why God invented tank tops with their own little shelf bras), but the t-shirt situation was problematic.
This was until we found this Rebecca Beeson “Rara Avis Ruched Top,” whatever that means, and despite the annoying name, it may actually be the best t-shirt we have ever owned (a not-uncalled-for expectation considering the $58 pricetag.) The only potential problem is the collarbone-level ruching, which somehow emphasizes the space between the boob and the shoulders, possibly aggravating for anyone who can’t find a bra or the funding for silicone breasts. You can probably tell that this was a significant issue for us this morning. The bra problem. Then we found it. And now, all is well.
We’ve been searching for gold shoes exactly like this, and then we found them, and they only cost $17.99. Now, this should be a miracle of Jesus-on-toast proportions (we like to get the sacrilege in before Advent, you know), but: They are from Payless. It’s not like we’re snobs, or even, more troublingly, reverse-snob snobs, but: Star Jones endorses Payless. You know all those wedding things Star Jones got for free in exchange for plugging them on that TV show? Yeah. We don’t want any of them. It’s like a reverse-psychology endorsement: If Star’s endorsing it … seriously, we’ll pass. But, once more: These shoes are really cute, and they cost $17.99. We are just going to completely ignore everything else. Like how the View is like the televised equivalent of public menstruation. Ooh, now that we’ve been all bitchy we feel better now.
