Marc Jacobs Shoes: The Good, Bad & The Fugly

Seriously, why is Marc Jacobs stuff so schizophrenic? It's either gorgeous or atrocious.

First: I must say that I am enamored of these Marc Jacobs patent cone heel pumps:

($335, Marc by Marc Jacobs, Barneys Co-op)

They're slightly less salmon-y in real life, and they're just overall perfect.

($325, Marc Jacobs, Barneys Co-op)

Perfection!

($198, Marc By Marc Jacobs, Pinkmascara.com)

These are amazing. And my size too!


... But how does that explain these atrocities?

($300, Marc Jacobs, Barneys)

I hate criss-cross no matter what, but a criss-cross Mary Jane? So misguided.

($235, Marc Jacobs, Barneys)

The biggest crime of all! Asymmetrical slingback? Metallic? Jeweled heel! FOR SHAME, MARC JACOBS!

Dying For (Some But Not All) Daryl K Dresses

($352, Daryl K, Shopbop)

Probably because I'd see unloved, neglected pieces on the racks at Loehmann's and the like, I used to think of Daryl K as slightly skanky clubwear. But perhaps I think wrong (after all, this button-down couldn't be farther from slutty) because I LOVE this brown "paper bag" dress. This photo doesn't do it justice and only exacerbates its wet-look-ness. In person, it actually looks much classier and less shiny. It's extraordinarly soft too, but what really sold me is the amazing zipper trim. Okay, I will say that the cinched arms flatter absolutely no one, but I love the zipper trim so much I might almost overlook that. Well, what I guess I'm saying is that I love 75% of the dress. Though of COURSE, not with the boots.

I also love some of the dresses she's doing as part of her "Daryl K-189 & Co-Op" collaboration with Barneys Co-op. Check 'em out here.

I do, however, reserve the right to HATE this:

($780, Daryl K, Shopbop)

Um, $780 for a schmatte that looks like the scraps I used to practice sewing on? Um, no. This looks like 10 accidents.

Awesome J. Lindeberg Jacket For $99

Fellow flogger Daddy Likey's sick Members Only jacket thrift store score inspired me to find a couple strong-enough-for-a-man but totes-okay-for-the-ladies menswear-inspired looks of my own. But, like any New York savvy shopper worth her weight in coupons (either online or real: online in my case) will tell you, there's really NO such thing as a decent thrift store in Manhattan. So, this will have to suffice:

($99, J. Lindeberg, Tobi.com)

Not bad atall for gois or goils. The only thing I can't deal with, though, is this:


Um, I really don't need the convertible parachute-backpack-landing-gear option or what the fuck ever that is. Just the jacket please! Thanks!

($130, M Carter, Refinery29.com)

Lurve this wood-print hoodie. For boys OR for girlz!

($65, Beard & Bangs, Steven Alan)

Nabbed a pic of this great whiskey tee from Thrillist, who did a piece on Beard & Bangs, an indie label that, like Barking Irons, does lotsa Fin de siècle, swashbucklin-on-the-Bhowrie (before it turned into one big bank and condo complex) prints that evoke images of Stephen Crane novels and dirty men bashing the shit out of each other with ye olde broken bottles while women lift up their skirts to reveal yukky syphilis and other stuff The Decemberists like to sing about. Love that!

($350, Ritmo Mundo, Barneys)

Finally, I just really like these watches by Ritmo Mundo. The bright colors kinda remind me of Polo or Nautica stuff, which would normally send me running, but they work here. However, I'm actually not feeling the "Ritmo Mundo" name, and only because it brings up my own uncomfortable association with when Ricky Martin performed that "Cup Of Life" song at the World Cup or whatever how ever many years ago, and the performance featured those enormous wind-powered nylon dancing things, confetti, waaaay too many horns, and that awful "ale ale ale" arm-waving dance he did in sync with his ass, and how the Spanish-to-English translation was just so painful. But maybe that's just me.

RICKY MARTIN - THE CUP OF LIFE

S-Perfume: 100% Love? 100% Vile

So, tonight I stopped into Barneys Coop to find a birthday present for a friend's upcoming Very Big Birthday. While at the cash register, I noticed two different perfume testers: one was Frederic Malle's Outrageous, and the other was 100% Love by S-Perfume and Sophia Grojsman, available only at Barneys. I picked up what I thought was the former, sprayed it on my inner wrist, set it down and waited for it to dry, then noticed I'd accidentally sprayed the latter, 100% Love. While the girl was ringing up my purchase, I took a quick whiff of my wrist. Again, nothing. And then... I. Almost. Fucking. Died.

Now, I know I tend toward descriptive hyperbolics, but I almost never barf, and I am NOT exaggerating when I say that I immediately almost vomited and as I write this, even now, I continue to fight back the dry heaves.

Okay, lemme see if I can do justice to the foul malodor that befell me. You know that sickening sweet-and-sour smell that five-week-old milk has and how when you sniff it, it feels similar to an electric shock minus the high voltage? That's the sensation that passed through and over me when I sprayed that shit. Iller than all ills. On the train ride home, I kept hoping no one would see me surreptitiously stealing sniffs of my arm, even though people do and sniff far worse on trains. Part of me was afraid I looked a little nuts, but the other part of me was so taken aback by the heinous self-inflicted destruction seeping into my skin that I almost wanted to grab the stranger sitting next to me and ask them to smell it so I could be sure my nose was still working properly and I didn't all of a sudden have some kind of skewed wiring leading from my nose back up to my brain. I just had to keep smelling it because I was just in such disbelief. Seriously, packed 2nd Avenue F train platforms in the dead of August don't smell as bad as this shit does.

Anyway, at this point, my arm smelled like rotten milk, warm baby formula, undercurrents of stinky cheese, bold notes of urine and just a hint of fetid tangerines. I can only hope and PRAY that the tester bottle I picked up had, in fact, turned under all of those bright, hot Barneys lights, because nothing SHOULD smell like this on purpose -- certainly nothing one should be expected to pay for.

The fragrance is described as: "The pulpy erotic part of a secret red fruit, the rich, deep and velvety skin of a dark natural rose by L.M.R., a ray of green sap from the rose's thorn, a mystical "concoction" of incense and black cacao."

Reviews I've found describe earlier versions of the fragrance as sweet like candy and roses... uhhh... what? All I know is that I was afraid to walk into my home lest my cat sniff me and keel over.

I'm afraid of what I might need to remove this scent from my sad little arm, and I pray it doesn't involve gaoline or matches.