The F word

Back to talking about it (kind of).

I received very positive feedback from last week’s blog. First of all, thank you. Second of all, does this mean we’re all sick and tired of fashion? I think so. 

Fashion week is coming up in New York. The blocks near my apartment are going to be hot and quite frankly I’m scared. I will be repeating my favorite mantra over and over in my head: comparison is the thief of joy. Comparison is the thief of joy. Comparison is the thief of joy. Wash, rinse, repeat. You do not need to spend your savings on new clothes. You should avoid Dimes Square. You do not enjoy waiting in line. 

It’s back to being one hundred trillion degrees outside but I’ve fallen back in love with pants and long sleeves and I don’t know how to go back. Waking up to a chill in the air was really exciting and I’m not ready to say goodbye to it. I guess we won’t be saying goodbye for long. I talk about the weather at nauseam and I realized this while checking out at Trader Joe’s the other day. I don’t know what else I would’ve talked to the cashier about but I was quickly embarrassed once the words “at least the weather is nice” left my mouth. I noticed this also recently on a date. For some reason I could not stop talking about the weather. I’m an anxious talker and I hate both awkward and comfortable silence, so I often fill it with words. Words about the weather. It’s genuinely painful and I lay awake at night thinking about it. He probably didn’t even notice. I also talk about it a lot on this blog.

I started watching Industry on HBO this week from season 1. I had fomo from everyone talking about how amazing season 3 is and had ample free time, so I thought I could rip through it to be in on the cultural discourse. This show really stresses me out. These kids and their bosses are so messed up. If you’re one of my friends in finance reading this, just know I think that’s what your life is like now and I’m scared.

HBO shows are so interesting to me. Each streaming service has such a distinct persona. Apple TV shows are so Apple TV, Netflix shows are so Netflix, and so fourth. Nothing stresses me out like an HBO show, but I also tend to love them more than others. Girls (first mention this week, pretty good), Succession, two of my all-timers. I feel like all of these characters live in the same weird cinematic universe. Like in London, Yasmin and Harper are at Pierpoint, while in Manhattan, the Roy’s are at Waystar RoyCo. All of them have a really perverse up undertone that makes me feel kind of sick while watching. Industry specifically has been a hard watch but I can’t seem to look away.

I’m currently on the hunt for a big Olsen twin-adjacent beat up work bag. My dream would be something like a ginormous Bottega Veneta Intrecciato hobo, but dreams are just that—dreams. I saw a woman on Fifth Ave wearing one this weekend and I was seething with jealousy. One day.

I’ve been scrolling The Real Real on my iPad while watching Industry and cast a few eBay fish to see if anything will catch, but nothing worth finding so far. I’m also trying to be scrappy and find something under $100. It has to be able to fit an absurd amount of things. Here are some that I won’t care if you buy:

This Cynthia Rowley shoulder bag with gold embellishments ($48)

A slightly Balenciaga reminiscent moto bag from Michael Michael Kors ($30)

Tasseled and tan from Frye ($81)

Logo-embossed bucket bag from Tory Burch ($62.50)

Not sure if it’ll fit a laptop but it’s cute from Marc Jacobs ($80)

Someone who I think is going to be really big this fall is Tory Burch. I’m super into her again and I think we all should be raiding our mother’s closets for those emblem flats and flip flops. We’re going to be carrying flip flops into fall, just letting you all know now. Also, don’t sleep on Tory Sport. She has a lot of great bag options on TRR but I’m going to gatekeep them for now, sorry!

If Twitter is talking about you, you’re officially hot.

I linked some sandals of hers a few months ago on here, and her website is chock-full of great new things, too. See these ultra chic mules. Rest in peace C. Wonder, who remembers? I think their beach ball is still in my basement, and I should’ve had the foresight to get one of their jewelry boxes at age 13 before they went under.