I don't usually indulge in the whole nail art thing.  Not that I am against it in principle, but more because  I am extremely lazy.  Not even about the painting of the nails per se, but rather the taking off of the old and chipped polish (and I do so dislike the look of old chipped polish).  These nails here are just at the point of unacceptability, but as my outfit for the day was a variation on this one, and as I have said I don't usually go in for this sort of thing, I thought I'd document them.

Some days I don't have anything to say about my clothes.  Today is such a day, they'll just have to speak for themselves.

6am and on my way to work here.  It is very cold in my house these days, so I find myself either "sunbathing" on the back deck (with large sunglasses and a larger brimmed hat pulled down over my face) or bundled up in big coats like this one.
I tracked this stupid coat halfway across Europe.  Saw it first in Barcelona, but at the advise of one of my more jetsetting companions was told to wait til we got to Andorra where I could buy it tax free.  Well, it was either not to be found in Andorra or significantly more expensive (can't remember which - alas how the years do fly), so back in Spain I scoured all the Zaras I could find to no avail.  Ended up buying it back in Belfast at the most expensive price yet, but by that time I considered that the coat must be had at any cost (well not quite any cost, I believe it was around £70 - a small fortune for me).

I hate the cold.  Mr B. laughs at this because LA is nowhere near as cold as NI, but I don't care.  For me, there exists a very narrow band of temperature acceptability.  Be it Belfast or Burbank, cold is cold.  I have been alternating between this sweater and a similar green one (which you will no doubt see posted here soon) all Winter.  It used to belong to my great aunt (who incidentally has just promised me a mother load of clothing she is getting rid of, though at this point I think I have probably already inherited all the good stuff).

Welcome Back

Once upon a time I was at a loss for what to do with myself.  I had broken up with my boyfriend of eight years and had moved back in with my parents.  Not really sure what to do next, I decided to take stock of myself and doing that through the examination of my wardrobe seemed the best way at that time.
I initially wanted to focus on the life my clothes had lived, the stories they had to tell and where those stories intersected with my own.  That was the idea, however the commitment to taking a daily picture (however bad my photography skills) ended up being challenging enough.  In the end the real point was that I had stuck to something for an entire year, and after that year ended the garment thread lost both steam and direction - as is quite evident from the infrequency of my postings.

I now have a lovely place of my own and am soon to be leaving the Miss G moniker behind for that of Mrs. B.  Life is good, and yet once again I feel at a loss for what to do with myself.  

I'm not really sure why I am undertaking this again, the world certainly does not need another "what I am wearing today"type blog, but I do need something to focus and commit to.  I do not post here to hold myself up as some sort of style arbiter.  More as a way of keeping myself accountable to this project I am once again undertaking.

Welcome to round two of the wardrobe project

a eulogy for my sunglasses

Readers, today is a sad day.  My good friend and sunglasses of many years are sadly no more after my parent's dog decided to use them as a chew toy (animal lovers: the dog is fine, you can breathe a sigh of relief - dachshunds apparently have digestive systems on par with goats).  My glasses and I first met at a Boots in Glasgow in the Spring of 2001.  I wouldn't really say it was love at first sight - they were actually one of three pairs I bought that day.  Jeez I realize how sick that sounds as I write it and I can only think there must have been some sort of deal for buying that many sunglasses.  I promise you that I don't usually buy more than one pair of shades a season.  [Actually, after initially writing this, I ended up selling three pair of sunglasses to a young lady this week.  She said she was stocking up for the summer because she inevitably will loose or sit on a pair.  I guess I don't feel so bad now.]  Given the fact that these glasses are almost always in my purse or on my person, I was really surprised at the lack of pictures I had in the archives of them in use.  Here are a few shots I managed to dig up - memories of the happy days:

 Moments after the attack.  I am going to look into replacing the lenses, but I fear that the money it will cost just won't be worth it.

At the beach with my cousin, the lovely Miss C.

Palm Spring last year (more pictures here)

At Coachella this year with T. and F. (note the glasses at my neck - I much prefer to keep them here when they are not in use as opposed to on my head)

Hello there.  For the past few years I keep telling myself that I should just shut this blog down.  If you take a quick look at the side of the page, you'll see that I only posted nine times in 2011, and so far 2012 is looking even worse.  But, like many things in this life, you put it aside and think "I'll just hold onto this, I might want to use it later".  Well, lo and behold, yesterday I felt like using this humble blog again.

 Remember this dress?  I made it two years ago in a month long flurry of dressmaking activity.  I have a tendency (I'm sure many of us who indulge in fabric hoarding do as well) of not wanting to cut into a really awesome piece of fabric until I am sure that the resulting garment will be really worth it.  Well, in this instance at least, I feel 100% confident that I could not have put this fabric to better use.  In fact this outfit got so much positive acclaim from people that I started to feel bad for my coworkers who probably wanted to strangle me after hearing "Thank you, I made it" for the umpteenth time.

I include this shot to illustrate how an outfit will morph over the course of the day.  Here we are after work and gone are the patterned tights and restrictive shoes (I don't care how comfortable a pair of shoes are, after nine hours all shoes are restrictive).  In their place are a pair of shorts perfect for laying on the couch and watching a Claude Chabrol film.