In general I’m always a bit dubious about models as stylistic inspiration as I can never really trust if it’s their wardrobe I want or their crazy-good genes (this does not include mentalist Hanne Gaby, who as I’ve said before, has an amazing wardrobe but does look a lot like a dinosaur), but #unpopularopinion – I ‘m not actually an Aldridge #stan at all so I can let myself off on this one.
As with all of my WCIBY crushes, Ruby’s style is mostly monochromatic, androgynous and built around staple basics. ALL GD THINGS. Another reason I’m a big fan of her street style is that despite being 8ft 3ins tall and weighing the same as a bag of flour, her sartorial choices aren’t things that can only be carried off by genetic freaks, but are universally wearable (apart from maybe the microscooter).
My latest sartorial girl crush is Carlotta Oddi, major babe and assistant to tits-mental Vogue Nippon editor Anna della Russo. Stylistically, (and for her sake, I hope mentally, have you seen the ‘Fashion Shower’ video?) the polar opposite of AdR, Carlotta’s outfits encompass all of my favourite things – heavy menswear and streetwear influences, prints, I also love that unlike a lot of high-profile streetstyle favourites, she’s loyal to a piece and not precious about piece repetition – for example, her Opening Ceremony varsity, and Balenciaga leather biker, which when I was considering buying it, upon trying it on made me look more like a badly wrapped barrel, SAD TIMES.
I’ve been really heinous at this blogging lark lately, partly because #realliferesponsibility is fly-kicking me in the head slightly but also partly for EXCITING (and somewhat unbelievable) REASONS!1!!1 which I can hopefully post about later this week. Anyway, here are some nicely dressed boycats in the meantime.
Having a rather miserable Monday, so I’ve got my “don’t talk to me” outfit on, courtesy of AW13 Hood by Air. There’s a good bit of leg ventilation, which I appreciate because I overheat when I’m stressed (I have a very high natural body temperature, it really is a curse) and also because I get to flash a bit of leg. I’m all about angry-sexy, tbh. The boots are sturdy enough that I can slyly kick tourists who dawdle in front of me without hurting myself, and the puffa is a great cushion when sandwiched between sixteen sweaty secretaries on the Picadilly line home. I need a drink.