Dance into autumn



As autumn beckons, we’re facing a period of transformation, altering our mindsets, along with our wardrobes. It’s difficult leaving the beach, letting go of the warmer months, and simpler times, but to combat the depressive feelings that often accompany this period, let’s look towards the bright side(s). (Because they always exist, the non-constant here being whether we choose to see them or not).

For starters, now that the temperatures are becoming not so denim and white-tee friendly, we are at liberty to layer (!!!)  without having to wring our tops out every few hours. Enter: oversized coats, and knits galore!  Not to mention, the opportunity for the subtlety that is leather trousers, (faux included,) sans the feeling of a furnace placed atop your legs. Ah, now doesn’t that put you at peace, just a little bit?

Autumn offers opportunities for growth, as well as self exploration. Through its extensive coloration, and the need for warmth, autumn serves as an avenue for inspiration, facilitating the drive of self expression.

My October wishlist color palette draws inspiration from Henri Matisse’s ‘La Danse,’  featuring customary autumn notes like brown, orange, and a wonderful hunter green. A bright, ultramarine blue is introduced by an oversized coat, complementing anticipated autumnal hues. A tee and mules are autumn equipped by the addition of leather trousers and a bold coat, epitomizing a transitional look. Venus elevates the look, boasting a polished gold statement earring, while the addition of an orange kitty clutch nods to playfulness (and the ease of non-bulky bags)!

Let’s continue to be inspired this autumn…




Wishlist Details:

Leather trousers // Joseph via Matches Fashion

Hotaru oversized cashmere blend coat // Roksanda via Farfetch

Cat-oriental jacquard clutch // Loewe via Matches Fashion

Selene oversized gold earrings // Phoebe Simpson 

Acqua di Barragan Tee // Barragán

Satin mules // Marni






But wasn’t it just my birthday like…a year ago?



Oh, how the days come and go, they ebb and flow, and all of a sudden in the midst of life happening, another year goes by. Like a flash, like you almost want to sleep a little longer before you wake up that morning, so it doesn’t have to disappear as quickly as it happened to re-appear. A little older, hopefully a tad+ wiser, and certainly hoping to have accumulated a sufficient collection of characteristic wardrobe finds, etc etc.

It’s truly as if as we get older, it becomes more and more difficult to gauge the perception of time, I suppose because we have an enormous amount of constant stimuli, both external and internal. These stimuli stem from our social constructs, like for example, (duh) Instagram, and its constant infiltration of our thoughts and perceptions, which brings us to the next perpetrator- ding ding ding!! Our own overly-narrative minds.

Throughout the majority of each day we are taking in a ridiculous amount of information–so one day feels like three, one week like a good half of a month, and then before you can blink it’s December. I’m assuming (insert other possible/probably words i.e hoping, praying) that it’s not just me that has this twenty-something year old anxiety-ridden internal soliloquy that goes on and on narrating each moment far beyond where it began. A little something like:

“Where do I fit in all of this? But can I actually follow this dream, I mean , I think i can…but really, can I? Freelancing can definitely get me where I want to go can’t it? Ugh now there is definitely no hope I mean, Donald Trump is actually the president of the United States..  Did I miss something??? Wait I never called my grandma to let her know that I flew across the world safely. Shit. Am I the worst granddaughter? And did I put the almond milk back in the fridge this morning? or was that Monday that I left it out, wait did this happen already? I think it did…Deja vu? or I’m just crazy.. Wait what is today anyway? I should definitely buy those Marni shoes, but wait what about donating to hurricane relief, thats totally something that more deserves the importance of the word “should,” right, isn’t it? Shit. Maybe I need to cut back on the matcha..

Our middle school English teachers would be appalled at this excessively ran-on run on sentence in our minds… But it is far too accurate a depiction. And its all happening while Instagram and everything else that exists outside of us and Instagram (yes, ladies and gents, it’s true, there are things–many, many things, happening outside of our own minds, and lives, and even Instagram,) that we won’t even go into now.

It’s just like, all of a sudden, I blinked and I’m 22, I’m visiting my parents in New York City, preparing to head back to London where I’m currently studying and living, I have, and continue to adopt values by which I’m starting live. I have goals which I am working towards. The younger me is looking to me now like “seriouslyyyy @JESS22 u frickin rok babe!!!!!” I am the screenwriter my film now more than ever; no one is telling me what, or why, or how to do anymore–and it is SCARY, but it’s also AWESOME.

My younger self would be tickled to see the amount of growth that I have acquired through the years, the confidence, vigor, and hunger for life that have led me to the path that I currently swim.*And I woke up on that morning of my 22nd birthday thinking ok…everything is changing, everything HAS changed, but, recognizing truly, for the first time, that the journey is far more relevant then the destination, which is certifiably unknown.

22 was reigned in alongside my lovely mother with lunch at the Standard Hotel followed by a stroll through the Whitney Museum (which truthfully we could only make it two floors as lunch left us sleepy, and the beautiful day throughout the rather person-less west village beckoned,) so we properly obliged with a slow stroll. Our palates danced through the evening with dinner at the NoMad Hotel in Flatiron where Eleven Madison Park chef Daniel Humm delivers nourishing, delectable dishes, and the bartenders serve cocktails that appease the senses both aesthetically and in taste. The harmony is kept within an oaky, open, candle-lit, space filled with a vibrant New York City energy, and smells of shaved black truffles, freshly baked bread and lavender garnished roasted chicken that may easily stop ones breath for just a moment. Safe to say that I was full, and elated…and full.

The day commenced with a list of some things to keep in mind for the next year to come, and those to follow. I wore my summer favorite, über flared jeans, felt the warmth of the September sun, had my taste buds tickled, and dawned a genuine, static smile. 

Here is probably where one would elect to write the infamous lyrics about “feeling 22” by Tay Swift.

I, however, will do no such thing.


The day was lovely, the evening a sensory pleasure experience, to boot.

And to top it off, that night, I slept like a ten month old baby.





Birthday dinner outfit deets:

Vintage gold hoops Brooklyn Bleu @ Artists & Fleas 

Vintage blazer @ The Vintage Twin

Navy silk dress as top @ Nili Lotan via Barneys New York

Flare jeans @ Oak + Fort

Open-toe pumps @ Givenchy via Barneys New York


*I say swim rather than walk, because I don’t know about you but swimming is for sure more difficult, though more pleasant because the sea is well..the sea (see: wonderful, incredible, beautiful, etc.,) while walking is nice, its a bit less exhilarating, and not to mention a hell of lot easier than swimming.

ss18 street-style killers from Scandi to NYC


When you take a look at the scale of fashion week, especially in NYC but also throughout London, Scandinavia, Paris, Milan, it seems pretty wild that this many people all come together to celebrate, and set the basis for what many “sheeps” if you will, will follow. Setting trends, exposing them thru brand promotion and popularizing them, as many bloggers, and influencers do during their respective fashion weeks, and the months to follow.

It has amazed me since my young teens, coming to NYC admiring all the glamour, but amidst it all there is this overwhelming feeling of opportunity, or (i think space says it better) to be whomever you choose. You can dress whatever way you want to.

Growing up in the suburbs of Long Island there was much “sheeping” going on, meaning this one following that one in the hopes that they, too would be cool. And for me, from the time I was able to pick out my own outfit, I was never on board with that. I always wanted to wear whatever I wanted to wear, and paid no mind to what someone else was wearing or doing in regards to choosing for myself. White flower embellished clogs with colourful flowers, a denim mini, pink top and a bag to match–I was set. For sure they stared. I didn’t mind.

When I was exposed to this widely individualistic playground that is New York City, not only in terms of clothing choice but all around individual expression, I felt a sense of comfort. And comfort not arising from fitting in, but a comfort in recognition of standing out. Everyone was someone, whomever they wanted to be. And it was cool, it was gravy, people would just smile, nod, appreciate, and continue on. I needed to be there.

NYC is inherently gifted with this constant repertoire of individuality, and fashion week has always been indicative of the appreciation of this individuality to me, and street-style has been a huge proprietor in this avenue of expression (and not to mention a time to see some of the most interesting, most daring ensembles).

It is easy for many to jump to conclusions and recognize the fashion industry in shallow terms, as there is often an air of superficiality in promotion and high price tags, and it can be, not necessarily that it always is, but at its core, often, it is deeper. (And i do believe that it has a core, that it can go waaay beyond a surface, it simply depends on who, and what). There is a massive celebration of self expression from many aspects, and it remains a beautiful avenue for said expression.

Having been afforded opportunities to travel throughout my life, I’ve been so grateful to see other places, too, outside of NYC, and to recognize many more cultures (especially among those in various countries of Europe) overwhelmingly evocative of this appreciation of the individual.

So, in celebration of fashion week I’ve compiled some of the best street-style looks so far, from Stockholm, Copenhagen, and NYC. (try not to drool too much on that keyboard of yours.)

P.S. How cool are these boys chilling outside in Stockholm???? FAVES

Stay groovy.




None of these photos do I claim as my own!

Photo credits in order of appearance:

Tyler Joe @ Harper’s Bazaar; Ruben Chammoro @ Cosmopolitan; Style Du Monde @ Vogue; Getty @ Vogue; Style Du Monde @ Vogue; Tyler Joe @ Elle; Maria Bernad (@mariabernad); Tyler Joe @ Harper’s Bazaar; Simon Chetrit @ Manrepeller; Chris Choi (@streetper); Ana Saber (@oursecondskin); Robert Spangle @ GQ


be yourself (in all your goat milking-glory)


“Stop trying to be somebody else. Don’t try to be someone else. Be yourself, and know that that’s good enough. Don’t try to be someone else. Don’t try to be like someone else, don’t try to act like someone else; be yourself. Be secure with yourself. Rely and trust upon your own decisions, on your own beliefs.”

Last year, Frank Ocean’s Blonde featured a song called, “Be Yourself,” the number four track on this 2016 mega-hit, mega-need-to-sing-along album. The track simply features the voice of his mother, reminding him, and in turn, well, us, (along with the advice of steering clear of drugs) to always stay true to himself/ourselves. And you know, as many times as this notion is expressed, I think that this idea of remaining genuine to our most inner selves, though often talked about, seems to be more evaded than it is practiced, which is why it is merited to bring it up until it is engrained.

In an age where we allow virtually the entire world a glimpse into our lives, it’s safe to say that many of us are constantly drowning in a public pool of self inflicted, but often externally driven, criticism. And it’s in this idea that is conceived the notion that: when we know that the whole world is watching, we’re more inclined to want (or better, feel the need) to give what we think the people want most to see, to put on a better show. Even when one finds themselves enthralled in the wonderfully free, (but yes, also often stipulating) worlds of art and fashion, do we sometimes feel this pressure to lose our “selfness,” if you will, in an effort to please the masses. And in many other sectors the same remains true.

But I think what we all need to have screamed at our faces every now and then is just what FO’s mother is preaching during her minute and twenty-eight second voice message-album track. Maybe add it to your playlist so you can play it over, and over, and over.

One thing that I’ve learned, and I’m certain that many can attest to, is that when you do remain true to yourself, when you respect your own, and no longer attempt to be or give whatever it is that you think they want, you will find that all else comes much more smoothly, more beautifully. In terms of creativity, or relationships, and all that lies in-between, when you stay true, the genuineness of you that shines through will always be more (in every sense of the word).

This outfit translates “me” to you, in less than more words. I love a look with good mixture of soft and edge. This one, with a hat that I wear way too often, everyday massive glasses that yes, I actually need to see, my pilgrim-reminiscent goat-milking-ready top and jeans whom accompany many ‘a outfits. Candidly, unapologetically, me.

Allow the world to see you, without their self-inflicted filters set upon you.

Be yourself. It’s worth it.


Hat; Vintage via Here After Vintage

Frames; Tom Ford via Ilori Boutique

Top; Zara

Jeans; Vintage via The Vintage Twin

Belt; Vintage via Rokit Vintage

Bag; Stella McCartney

Shoes; Barney’s New York