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For some time now, I’ve been staring at this:
Though Erin Wasson once said that she admired the homeless for their personal style, I regularly agree with her wardrobe choices, and therefore commit many of her pieces to memory in hopes of finding something similarly inspiring from my own closet. Likewise, Noot Seear, a model-cum-actress starring in the upcoming (opening release today maybe? Yes?) New Moon, a chess junkie and chunky jewelry addict, is also an inspirational muse. On Modelinia.com, she personally takes you through her closet – her leather jackets, her vests, her buckets of bags and piles of shoes – and amongst that divine mess is a pair of black and white low ‘creepers.’
Creepers are an interesting lot. According to Wikipedia, “they found their beginnings in the years following the WWII: Soldiers based in the deserts in North Africa wore suede boots with hardwearing crepe soles because of the climate and environment. Having left the army, many of these ex-soldiers found their way to the disreputable nightspots of London (Kings Cross and Soho) wearing the same crepe soled shoes. Those became known as Brothel Creepers.” Afterward, they got picked up by emerging subcultures – ska, punk, new waver, greasers, goths and the Japanese Visual Kei (known for their visual dramatics). Though I’d hardly throw myself into the closet with the skuzzy kids hanging out at The Knitting Factory – the all-black ensembles, glue-formed Mohawks and numerous piercings – I’m not above a little grunge. Like Alexa Chung says ‘I’m allergic to hairbrushes.’ I like a little bitter with my sweet.
So, after several rewinds of Noot’s closet spectaculaire, I wanted my own ‘creepers.’ Which brings me to shoe shopping, which brings me to this: though my budget for shoes is miniscule (I have bilz), the inspiration of an outfit or piece is never truly forgotten; the minute I lay my green eyes on something inspiring, I’m done for, which is why Karmaloop.com never treated me so good. Thank you Jeffrey Campbell. The black and white is gone but the shape of both Noot’s and Erin’s kicks is prominent, and with studs to boot, I’m sold. The ‘wrinkle studded creeper’:
Every Sunday, vintage seeking Angelenos can sort through mounds of clothing, each piece priced at $1. Although the store characteristically smells of moth balls and dusty shelves (thus so do the clothes), the price is right for a quick score.
Jet Rag
825 N. La Brea Avenue
Los Angeles, CA 90038
323.939.0528
When I was growing up, I got one pair of shoes about every six months. I wore them until the soles tore open and they smelled like last week’s garbage. I don’t remember being poor – but this might qualify. Thus my propensity for a new pair of shiny bright soles. Slipping into a new pair is stirring. Images of late nights and garden parties abound, bettered by the heels I will wear to them. Though a full-on shoe fetish is too exaggerated to describe my current closet and predilections, I find myself with about 20 pairs (not too big a number, not too small).
Today, I face the bus in beautiful black snakeskin Ralph Laurens’. 
Scented nights and days…
Audrey Tautou and Chanel No. 5 find their lost love.
Chanel No. 5: Film, Story, Behind The Scenes
“LA is great at making sitcoms. Paris isn’t as good as LA is at making sitcoms; every place has their specialty. And then they do LA Fashion Week, which is incredibly arrogant and demanding. I mean, these editors have been all over the globe for a couple of weeks [for Fashion Month] and then LA is saying ‘Okay, now you have to come here.’ Please, I mean, get off your ass and go to Europe. I mean, that’s what I did and you just have to go where you have to go. They just don’t have the tradition, and they do other things really good, so why do they have to be a fashion capital? They’re the movie capital of the world and they’ve always been that, can’t they just be satisfied with that?”
Unfortunately, I have nothing to share here, but I want to point out that if you decide to move to L.A., don’t become a hermit. I happen to love my lonesome ways, and given my experience in the fashion showrooms here, an experience I liken to a mock celebrity environment (cut-throat and untrustworthy as it gets, with drug use on the side), it has been hard to trust people in this town ever again. Slowly, it gets better. My sister is far more social than I’ll ever be, and the high expense of entrance fees and drinks is enough to make you want to stay home, but she’s deftly focused her career and her friends have only widened her prospects.
This is not new news, but just a helpful reminder. Even to myself.
The man in front of me is wearing striped pajama pants. Although this is a fairly nondescript thing to do on a Sunday morning at 10:30 at Starbucks, these particular pants have a Liz Claiborne tag attached to the outside, and at this moment, for all I know, Liz Claiborne only makes women’s clothing.
Viewpoint – Photo by Kesinee Tongtuntrai
To find this sort of eccentricity whenever I drive my crusty car into this licentious landscape of Hollywood is appealing – it’s like walking into some sort of strange dream. However, Starbucks might qualify as a bohemian universe unto itself, offering comforting drinks to myriad weary travelers in need – in whatever they’re wearing.
It is undoubtedly obvious that L.A. has its own vibe – reinforced by the general makeup of the population, L.A. no doubt is more subversive than most; with styles that span from Emo to Blond Ambition, more often than not counterculture and not involving catwalks and skinny models (only sometimes). I tend to think L.A. is being snubbed by the big players in NY(and L.A. doesn’t make it any better with Lauren Conrad as their biggest headline), as evidenced in the eyes of Andre Leon Talley, as he heaves a big sigh.
L.A. fashion is spawed from all facets of this CA life: the beach, the street, the clubs, etc. All in all, we’ve got style. So I ask, “How can The Sartorialist ignore us so completely over here on the West Coast?” I assume that he works, and that work takes place on the the East Coast (and abroad, note the Delhi flavor) without any thought, glance or sympathy thrown in our direction. Still, I am feeling a mite ignored, and a bit miffed that his beautiful photography doesn’t hold images of the pros over here out on the street everyday. Although, I can forgive him and his ways. His Blog is not one to forget as evidenced by the press he receives on Vogue.com.
NO SAINTS IN L.A. 