at the heart of british style

London calling 

london-bridge-night

Reposting “At The Heart Of British Style” again because it’s London Fashion Week! And I’m thinking about tweed even though I’m sitting in New York, half-naked, in 80 degree heat in September. And I just love the word “twee.” 

Stella

Stella McCarthy

This post was written by my friend, Esther, from Style & Conversation. Esther lives in London, so I asked her to help me out with a post, when I realized that my knowledge of British fashion was limited to two stereotypes: tweeds and fascinators. 

copycat blow dries

I’m standing outside a London underground station waiting to meet a friend, the sun is shining and finally coats have been replaced with lighter layers. My friend sends me a text, she is running late and so I head to a nearby café to wait, and to people watch.

It’s rare that any of us get a moment to just sit in today’s busy world so I relish the chance to let the minutes pass by along with the rushing crowd. I am – as always – maddened by the volume of black leggings and questionable footwear on display, along with the array of blondes with their copycat blow dries, intentionally messy in an effort to emulate Kate Moss, and an equally unoriginal sense of style. In this vibrant city you can be anyone you want to be and yet far too many insist on being a bad replica of someone else.

But then there are the looks that not only catch my eye but will remain in my mind for weeks to come; the tall, slender woman in her early 50s, her white cotton shirt crisp and tucked into a flowing linen skirt of blue and white stripes, the hem falling just below the knee.

tweed skirts

Sparkly gold ankle socks complement the thin, clinking bangles stacked high on her arm and everything is pulled together with brown brogues and a beautiful Mulberry handbag, probably an investment purchase, well-loved but obviously used repeatedly throughout the years.

Then there’s the young woman in a brown, tweed skirt.

Her caramel-colored silk blouse flutters gently in the breeze and she has paired this ensemble with short, studded leather boots and a denim blazer, which makes her look edgy rather than too earthy or twee. She strides along with confidence, catches me looking at her and replies with a stunning smile, outlined by bold, red lips.

To me, these women are the epitome of British style;

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cbd oil

cbd oil
more brutalism
quoting

What did you do this weekend? I tried some CBD oil in the form of chewy “froggies.” I tried it, because like many people, I occasionally have problems with anxiety, and I’m not above occasional self-medication. 

We, in our society “medicate” ourselves with all kinds of substances and experiences, a little hemp oil, I think, is the least of our worries.  

CBD oil, as the young man in the head shop said, is all the rage. It’s legal in New York, and is sold over the counter in a pretty casual manner. Note the words “federally legal,” that means you can probably purchase it in your state.

“CBD hemp oil is federally legal and has been ruled to fall under the same importation and commerce regulations that other hemp products are bound by. Furthermore, no local New York legislation has been enacted to regulate CBD hemp oil. In the Empire State (as with many states) CBD Oil is as legal to buy and consume as your morning coffee.”

This is from a useful website called Best CBD Oils, and this infographic is helpful if, like me, your knowledge of cannabinoids is limited to some vaguely memorable “joints” shared with college friends prior to early morning munchie runs. 

CBD oil is supposed to help with a wide variety of ailments: insomnia, fibromyalgia, Crohn’s disease, PTSD, psoriasis, anxiety, and more.

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le weekend at look for the woman

“Le weekend” at Look For The Woman! Two pictures I took this week of two very different women in different places in New York. The woman in orange was walking down Columbus Avenue, on the Upper West Side, UWS.

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brutal

brutalism
quoting

ugly?

I lived for a time in Boston, not far from this monster of a building. This is brutalism. Just reading the definition below, the most “brutal” by far that I found, makes me want to cry. So much for the 1950s and 60s.

style of architecture or art characterized by a deliberate plainness, crudity, or violence of imagery. The term was first applied to functionalist buildings of the 1950s and 1960s that made much use of steel and concrete in starkly massive blocks.

The only way I can take my brutalism is in small doses.

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