click to printApr 11, 2016
No pants allowed. Or anything related to cold weather for the matter.
Yoga, endorphins, cardio, pressed juices that make my wallet fear for its life, kale — also known as my current state of being. Well, joking about the last part because I actually fail to understand the kale Kool-Aid everyone seems to be drinking. Sorry, I'm no convert yet and yes, I'm a bad Californian.
It's April in NYC, which loosely translates to five weeks where you'll vow to sculpt that summer bod, but then abort mission. With the golden digits of seventy five degrees on the horizon, that means it will soon be off-the-shoulder and bare legs territory. I cherish any opportunity to abandon bulky coats and the ultimate horror — layering — but months of covering up means I'm late to the game of sunshine dressing. Don't get me wrong — swapping jeans for rompers and knits for everything eyelet is the dream, but I am also reminded that: (defined) abs don't have an overnight shipping option, love handles indeed exist beneath all that faux-fur and leather, and toned legs cost more than a spin on the treadmill.
When Banana Republic reached out to me about a collaboration, fate intervened. Here I was, reunited with my kind of aesthetics — Pacific blue, subtle floral print, that hint of Moroccan tile flair, ruffle detailing for two parts romantic and fun. This is the frock I envision for brunches by the beach (if only) to summer nights in Brooklyn (probably more likely). Let us fast-forward time already, but first: getting back ino shape.
Photography: Areta Chen