Fatherland.

I'm headed to Israel tomorrow. Yay! My Pops did me a solid. His half of my genetic makeup qualifies me for a Birthright trip. I'll be touring the country from Mt. Masada to the Old City with a bunch of other twenty somethings for 10 days. I'll be absent from the internets, but I'll be present for flafel and spiritual awakenings galore.

In honor of my trip I post here a link to the Tel Aviv street style site The Streets Walker. Check out an exciting sampling of what I'm in for:


Hot pinkness.


Matchy-matchy.



Impressive layers.


Thou shalt covet that bracelet.

l'chaim! I'm leaving on a jet plane. See ya.

Jumping Haricots!

These lovely French Femmes from Paris street style site Garance Dore' prove two things: French=beautiful, and the jumpsuit test is the fashionista's final exam.




If you can pull one of these off without making people think of footie pajamas or mechanics, you've really got something. I'm still studying for the test, so these pics are my cheat sheet. Keep your eyes out for my coveralls coming soon. Summa cum Laude baby.

Stripeophile

I don't want to like this song. Really. I heard it for the first time at that nexus of chaos and disposable fashion sometimes called Forever 21, so it will always be linked to my shopping agita. But the striped shirt? The crazy-dancing leopard lady? The ethereal light and heavy fake lashes? The video sells it to me. Oo ooooooo oo. Oo oooooo oo.

I want to nail it.

The New York Times did a ridiculous article on the intentionally chipped nails of socialites a little while ago. While this is exactly the type of journalism that makes me wonder what's wrong with humanity, I have to admit that I have been obsessing over the nail color in the below photo ever since.

I know, I know. There is barely any color there to go in search of, but it's been weeks and I'm still combing the aisles of Duane Reade hoping it will pop up. Something about the baby-coral-pink-oranginess of it makes me flutter. And the giant ring makes me happy too.

On another Times note, check out the red hot nerd porn they published today:

His suspenders are down around his elbows. Hhhhhhhot!

Is this wrong?

My moral compass is spinning. Homeless people as fashion icons? Didn't Galliano catch a lot of flack for that back in the day? But the sweetly smiling Cookie looks like a star on www.homelesschic.com a little website linked to on FaceHunter. Let's put the social issues aside for a moment and marvel at her:

You've got to give it to her. She could be the third Olsen sister, only with the ability to smile. I've got nothing but love for you Cookie.

I want to live in it.

Hi. It's me. I'm back!

These houses were featured in a slide show on Elle's website. They look like they were built of old wood and spit. I'd live in them if I ever went hermit on your asses:

This one was built by a Russian outlaw. He never finished it because he was locked up for a third time. Snow capped roof peaks?

I'd ski them.

And this one would be perfect for the couple who has a ground phobia:
This proves that exists.

And here is a taste of where I actually live:

That's my mirrored mantle homage to Avedon. And my clothing. Sweet dreams.