May I just say that if you’re anything but a scant cup of sugar, you cannot get away with wearing a boyfriend jacket. Unless, of course, you’d like to be confused for someone’s boyfriend. Then by all means, cuff up those sleeves and use those deep pockets. You’re the one who pays now–in more ways than one.
I’ve come full circle with regard to the platform bootie and am now welcoming them into my life… with the skinny jean. There. I said it. I’m a trader to my shape (apple pan dowdy these days). Mind you the skinny jean comes with some stretch, and where there’s stretch, there’s suck. They suck it all right in, and push it out up top… not unlike a pastry bag, really. I would know, as I recently baked my own profiteroles. So, there’s that, which means I’m in no position to complain about how wee all my clothes are feeling. I am in a position, however, to buy a bloussant. A long gem stone colored top and even longer cardi, or pompom shawl, or hair shirt, because really, not sure a girl can ever have too much hair on her chest. Mostly, I just like that those Rachel Zoe vests invite me to sing Barenaked Ladies’ "What A Good Boy," which is a damn fine tune if you ask me.