ShitThreadsNoFriends

Ok there isn’t much more going on here than some severe layering, a cocked head and a serious set of getaway sticks. All well and good. This betty is doing something though, despite forcing me to revisit ‘Ruby’ related post headings, she’s opened Marc by Marc Jacobs, Erdem and walked Just Cavalli, Versace, Gucci, Pucci and Missoni. Very hip.

Via altamira: models of duty.

In a recent post on Clemence Poesy I baulked at a lame fray. To address the matter I’ve included this distressed detail as it should be, long and loose. And underneath that Bob Monkhouse worthy Jacket it all looks like we’re going to go home with a whole lot more than we arrived with.

Clogs. Not a term that fills me with lust. Yet, stack ‘em high and wear them with some smooth as Jimmy the Saint stalks and you’re going to get taken for boat drinks, faster than Pieces’ thumb can fall off.

Ripped from the heart of Create.

If ever there was a moment to bend over and really shake that tail feather then it would be if you were fortunate enough to encase your shoulders in this jacket by Chris Benz.

It’s as if you killed a flock of birds from paradise, drank their blood, ate their flesh and absorbed their beauty. Fuck, you might even be able to fly.

Via Ones2Watch.

Actually I’m not much of a fan of the pink panties, but Bronques has bleached out that background, found some candy called Cherie to stand in front of it and accentuated her fine and full nest.

LastNightsParty.

Not everything in France is tainted by the smell of garlic and the sound of teeth being sucked in disapproval. In fact some things are fine. Like Poesy’s taste in threads and the girl herself.

I would try and tell you something from the source about this image, but it was taken from one of the French blogs I read (look at). Just know that from the waist down things are little sketchy, that denim fray is certainly not even close to hip. However, up top the layering and the rough cut of the sleeves offer something, that while hinting at refugee cool, goes a little further.

Via Café Mode.

If the world were to end in this very instance, if nuclear war provoked by fanatical God botherers, rogue and hellbent comets or the indefensible rising of sea levels conspired to obliterate this so called life it would be ok. Why? Because these kicks exist.

Given unto us by Say Hello, Max and created by… ?

Brandon Flowers may have already done this, but he never really looked suave, more just like he was making a real effort to be interesting. And this was something everyone realised he wasn’t about two seconds after Sam’s Town was released.

This version of the pheasant epaulettes has a nice hidden feature. There’s 666 of them. That is a brilliant detail.

Also for those that like a daft comment, there’s one on the source article,

“Tara said… Ugh. Cool concept, but no one should ever wear a dead bird’s feathers. Same as fur and leather. How sad.”

Thanks for your input Tara it’s really appreciated… no hang on. What I meant to say was shut-up you dizzy imbecile. Sad? Sad that the pheasant didn’t make it further up the food chain? Would you be happier if all game birds were crunching our bones in their stumpy beaks and wearing our faces as hats? No you wouldn’t would you. You’d be dead and faceless. Ridiculous.

From Stil in Berlin.

It occured to me while enjoying this fair and light number from Ruby Boutique that I’ve been swanning about in Soho for over three months. Not once however have I plugged in the SkullCandy’s and listened to Rancid’s Ruby Soho (You’ll have to fight your way through the Vampire Weekend covers, but the original is through that link)… odd.

This soft and supple dress is a delight, especially if you’ve got the knees and getaway sticks to float it above.

Via Create.

Just because something is hung on the hanger in a particular manner doesn’t mean that’s how it fits. This is aptly demonstrated above, a sequined cardy from Lion in Love thrown on about face. It might feel a little odd at first, but think, if that sparkling mound of betty came over and started asking you inane questions about what school you went to and what hood you grew up in are you going to blank because you reckon she has a problem dressing herself correctly? Thought not…

SRC783.

Incorrect title? If the common perception of hell being ‘down there’ and heaven being ‘up there’ is adhered to, then these plates are so fucking high you could chew on the our Lord’s chin wig while wearing them. However, religion is a figment of your fucking imagination. This is MW writing so the title’s right, these Gucci knifes are slick fucking kicks and you’d do well to put your fetlocks in a pair.

Jak and Jil blog.

It all makes so much sense – the ill fit, the exposed collar bone, the dark flow, the masonic imagery and cool to burn. Cavern’s threads are white fucking hot.

Knight Cat.

I’m not sure I’ve written about the time I died fighting beast and man in a struggle to win the love of a Goddess. I suffered a fatal wound and as I faded slowly, the Goddess for which I’d fought sacrificed her deity existence. And, once she’d assumed her mortal state, plunged the claw of a polar bear, who had fallen by my own hand, through her throat so as to die beside me. Unable to restore the Goddess as she had perished by her own hand and blaming me for her death, Zeus, the God of Gods, resurrected me with a lightning bolt and cast up on me the curse of immortality so I would suffer for infinity without my one true love.

It is this story that inspired Maï Lamore’s lightning bolt heeled spikes.

SheBreathes.

These kicks look as if they were built from leftover parts of Barry Sheen. That is probably an odd reference for STNF, but anything goes within the confines of this two column layout. So why not jump into these Kirkwood X Rodarte and tell me what type of motorbike you imagine yourself to be while we draw positions out of a cracked crash helmet to decide how we’re going to do the nasty.

withasianstereotypes.

Urko Suaya on this evidence is a hot photographer, but not nearly as on fire as the five-inch killer pink bow toes in this burn. It helps that they’re on legs that travel up to the neck, but lets not get distracted, a photographer and model do not make the shoe. They just make the style more gratuitous, which is only ever hip.

Calikartel.