On days like today, when I can barely get out of bed because facing the East Coast winters is a little too much to ask, I turn to cute things to cheer me up. Like a video of a labradoodle jumping into a puddle with delight, or a video of a shiba dog avoiding a puddle with disgust (they are very clean creatures). Lower on that list but still pretty high up is this lil t-shirt from Zara, which is apparently made for the kind of shy child who needs a little extra help making friends in the playground.

As a status garment it's got everything I need: embroidered English words written out of context, ambiguous shapes (are they ghosts? mountains? mountain ghosts? mountain goats??), and adorable faces with tiny mouths. Unfortunately, it is designed to accommodate a five-year-old child and not an adult 25-year-old woman, even if she happens to have the mind (and fashion sense) of a five-year-old child. 

But come on. How can you say no to this face??????

-M

Two weeks ago, I was having lunch with my coworkers when someone asked, "If you could invest in one status bag, what would it be?"

Now, something you should know about me is that there is nothing in this dear world I love more than questions that use fashion to paint a picture of your inner psyche. After all, miles separate the woman who would invest in a Hermes Birkin from the woman who just dropped her rent on a Mulberry Alexa bag.  By the time I reached 20 I had already decided what designer would make my wedding dress (Simone Rocha), what house would dress me if I ever went to the Oscars (Dior), what makeup artist would do my face (Charlotte Tilbury) and what designer I'd most want to have dinner with (it used to be Marc Jacobs but now it's got to be Raf Simmons). Sufice it to say, I was ready for this conversation to happen.

My coworkers started throwing names around like Celine's Nano tote and the classic Lady Dior bag. I've wanted a Bayswatter since I learned of Alexa Chung's existence, so I said that. But the experience got me thinking about the more attainable sides of fashion. After all, accessories are areas of investment for high fashion for those of us who can't afford a couture gown on the reg. Which brings me to the status tote. 

Ranging in price from $25 to $75, a status tote needs to have only two qualities: 1) it must be made from a nondescript standard canvas material, and 2) display the brand's name somewhere on its front. As the raggedy cousin of the It Bag, the Statement Tote says to the world "Like you, I may not be able to afford a Balenciaga bag, but at least I have the fashion credentials to judge you about it." It's prestige and approachable at once, a primer on fashion iconography without being all "IT'S CALLED FASHION, LOOK IT UP!!". Case in point, I proudly own a poppy bright orange See by Chloe tote bag, which proudly proclaims "That's right world, I read Teen Vogue in 2008!".

The status tote needn't limit itself to the fashion industry, however. Think of all the people you've spotted carrying tote bags from Iovine Brothers, or the Strand, or St. Vincent's Fear the Future Tour (that is a really excellent status tote, btw). The point of the status tote isn't necessarily to pledge allegiance to a fashion house, but to act as a secret identifier of your particular tribe, whatever it may be. It tells the world that you have a point of view, and allows a member of your community to identify you as such, maybe even making contact over an inside joke. Your phones may have your Tinder bio, but passer-bys have status totes.  

I was still ruminating on the conversation during my subway ride home, which quickly evolved into thinking about the kind of people that carry certain totes. Here's a lil list I wrote up. 

Margaret Howell Tote

 

"I am a surprisingly lucid grandmother who wears all linen, shops at No. 6 and spent time in Florence. My stage name is Maggie Smith."
 

Melville House Bartleby Tote

"I derive equal pleasure from lively intellectual conversations and watching skateboarders do that thing where they sway violently for what seems like an age but is actually less than a minute and then fall on their faces with an indignant 'Dude!'. Ha ha! There is a 75% chance I voted third party." 

Opening Ceremony Chloe Sevigny Logo Tote Bag From 2009 I Guess?

"I am a millennial who shops at the Glossier showroom (not online!) and sings along to Aqua ironically" 

Loewe Toast Tote Bag

"I need you to know that I spent $1700 on this canvas bag"

New Yorker Tote

"I'm on Bumble." 

-M

Happy new year!

-M

I like to think that this print is what would have happened if Vincent Van Gogh had lived in Williamsburg. The mere thought of all the monstera-and-vase portraits we have been deprived of brings a lone shaky tear to my eye. Luckily, everyone's favorite diet prada has made those dreams a reality- Zara just restocked this bomb t-shirt, which I bought as a gift to myself after finishing up my first round of grad school applications. The follow-up question, of course, is what I'll have to dangle in front of me as a future reward to make me finish the last leg of this whole thing. I'm thinking either a luxurious weekend in Paris or a highly illegal Kinder egg.    

-M

When I was 7 years old, my parents befriended a family during one of our camping trips at El Bolson in Patagonia. The patriarch was an architect named Victor (which is  a perfect architect name, by the way). They lived on the outskirts of Buenos Aires, in this open-plan modernist house with a courtyard and a banana-yellow hammock. They would often invite us to dinner, where we would play with their kids for hours. This house made a significant impression on me for two reasons: 1) it was the place I first saw Yellow Submarine, and 2) it was the first house I ever wanted to move into.   

I haven't seen Victor or his family in ages, but I still find myself thinking about that house and its colorful nooks and cranies. I didn't think I would ever find its equal... and then I stumbled into Paloma Lana's house.

Some context: Paloma Lana is the founder of the creative project Paloma Wool, a project about getting dressed and about space or ideas that are created around the act of getting dressed. Basically, they make really excellent linen outfits, leather shoes, and puffers. Fun! Fact! Paloma Lana translates to Paloma Wool in Spanish! Wooooahhh.

Located in Bar-the-lona, Paloma's house is exactly what Victor's house was to me as a kid: colorful but minimalist, airy but cramped, artistic but minimalist. It's ripe for creative activities, because if there's anything that screams Iberian Creative, it's an aggressively colorful floor tile situation.    

Honestly, I could stand here and tell you all the reasons why I want to wear nothing but Paloma Wool for the rest of my life, but I think that is best left for another post. Instead, here are a few pictures of Paloma's house, which I found on My Scandanavian Home (natch) and promptly saved on my laptop. If there is any justice in the world, I will also end up in a house with half as many rubber plants someday.   

-M