Sustained Criticism

This is a rant about fashion, and my plans for surviving winter without too many colds. Ignore if you're that way inclined.

I love military jackets with all my heart, and this season's versions has me dying. Burberry's coats (and their shearling leather aviator jackets, don't get me started). I missed out on Balmain's iconic military jacket, and still long for it. And so, when Kristine and I walked into Eger and rounded the corner where Marc Jacobs's coats hung, we looked at each other and collapsed. It was perfectly 'Soviet Russia'. Just look at it. For god's sake, it is beautiful. The details, the fit, the length, aaah.

But I really can't buy another expensive thing I don't desperately need, so I'll stick with the coat I bought last year. I'm saving for New York. Where they sell Kirkwoods. And to keep my feet dry and reasonably warm, I need a pair of sturdy boots. I want them big, bad and ugly, the only way to go. Frye make sturdy boots, though some models are a bit too cowboy for me.

Kristine, I was right: the perfect cashmere leopard print scarf exists. Made by Yves Saint Laurent, and it is more expensive than your coat. I'll go back to pretending Net-A-Porter does not exist, when I've given you the link. Leopard print is another passion, which coincides nicely with A/W 2010. My beloved leopard print ballerina flats are falling apart, so I clearly need something else I can wear to death.

I shall create a lookbook; a scrapbook of sorts, for which I will massacre my less-loved glossy magazines, and chronicle what I love from each season. It will also serve as inspiration for those days I look around at my clothes and just think "fuck". And I think harem trousers are growing on me. With skyscraper heels they could be very chic.

Can't the snow go away? I'm ready to wear oxfords again, thanks. I want to wear my D&G's naow. And the new teal trench (it's modelled on the opening page). Perhaps it's time to conclude that I like statement coats?

I'm so behind on coursework it's getting laughable. I won't list the number pages, but it's getting to be impressive.

Again, it seems, as I do something to my hair it turns fashionable. As I am going blonder (not blonde yet, blonder), golden blonde is all the rage of the winter season. Headdesk, anyone? People are taking my change of hair weirdly, most compliment me on it (would they dare to do otherwise?), but those that did not know I was blonde to begin with generally take it as an afront to my individuality. I certainly get that there are enough blondes around as is, but come on, I am blonde by right. And really, I can be just as individual blonde as dark-haired.

This transition went more smoothly, oddly enough. I spent months jumping at my hair in the mirror after dying it black, and the blonde I am perfectly fine with after an impressive three days. It is, however, dry and a bit brittle. And I am growing it into a slight a-cut, if my hair-dresser does not change her mind and all turns out well.

And Vigdis has had a stroke of genious over the holidays: since I have so much time on my hands, if one of the other two can't make it to a lecture, I am to make notes and be their mentor. I am no teacher, I dislike one of my prospective students, my notes make no sense to anyone but me and I do not look particularly forward to braving a lecture on my own. Brilliance, I bow in thy presence!