Hygge: A Meaningless Word to Some, a Fashion Statement to Others

Definitely easier to pull off than to pronounce correctly.

Just to clarify: hygge is a Danish concept, not a Swedish one. We have fika and even the term mysig (which is basically impossible to translate in English, but mostly means "cozy" that can only be visually described by being next to a blazing fire inside a Swedish cottage in the winter), but hygge is strictly a Danish thing. It feels that it can only be reserved for Denmark because it also, like mysig, has no direct English translation. Google Translate refers to it as "fun," which feels very, very wrong, especially as I visited Denmark earlier this month and "fun" is not the way to describe my experience.

Cozy? Exciting, but in a lowkey way? Happy-inducing, but again, in a lowkey way? A combination of all three? Hygge. That's better. Even if I can't put into words what my five-day long hygge adventure was like, I know that hygge is the proper term. Think warm coffee shops with friendly staff that you can spend hours in; cozy bars that specialize in the best Danish beer; even just spending hours of your vacation lying in bed because it's too cold outside, but without feeling severe amounts of fomo. That's hygge for ya, at least my perception of it. If you're Danish and think I'm completely wrong on this interpretation, please call me out on it. But otherwise, I'd like to bring hygge to my attitude every winter. It makes freezing temps and seasonal depression so much more fun!

The past two winters I've experienced have been more than miserable. Having to wear five different layers and dealing with little to no sunlight always put me in some sort of funk that only spring and summer would get me out of. Now, of course being in Sweden, this funk is heightened—it's way colder and the sun sets two hours earlier than back in the states (I'm writing this at 3:30pm and it is pitch black outside, btw). The past week has given me a glimpse of what seasonal depression is truly like, and folks, it's nothing I would wish on even my worst enemies. Getting myself to leave my (warm!) apartment just to see the sun for five or less hours feels futile, and attempting to enjoy my last month in this city is really, really hard. But for some odd reason, getting dressed in this sad, sad weather is one of the few things that I find exciting. Fall in Stockholm got me weirdly excited, which was already unexpected enough, but now winter? Honestly, I'm just confused. I've been a summer gal through and through; colorful vintage dresses and various mules have been my style saviors the past few years. But now that I'm forced to face the dark void that is Sweden, I guess I better embrace the Danish concept and bring hygge to everything I do, style included.

Sweater and jeans are vintage. Turtleneck by J. Crew (I will stand by the tissue turtleneck until my dying day, btw). Shoes are unknown, but I like these a lot.

Of course, my journey with hygge began in Denmark, of all places. The wind that literally blew me over multiple times forced me to wear a turtleneck under my thickest of sweaters and not touch anything but my tried and true vintage Levi's. I followed this outfit recipe for the next four days, half in Aarhus and half in Copenhagen, and I now call this trip my test run for how to dress for Swedish winters. I used to be against the idea of style uniforms, I embraced them for a bit when winter ruined me just one year ago, and now I realize that Scandinavia is a place that not only encourages, but requires a sartorial uniform. It's too cold to experiment! My months spent worrying about my fashion sense going down the drain from living here vanished as I realized that mixing and matching turtlenecks and sweaters is actually really fun. If I'm feeling more adventurous, I can swap a sweater for a button-up and leave it unbuttoned most of the way to show off my trusty turtleneck. I can switch my classic Levi's for a pair of purple corduroys I thrifted earlier this year to fight the stereotype that Swedes only wear black in the winter (which, by the fact, is very true). Hygge paved the way to a winter that can actually be fun in terms of style; outfit repeating is not frowned upon here. It's celebrated! Maybe I have worn this pair of jeans everyday for the past two weeks. But it's sad and cold and dark, we have better things to worry about than if we're wearing a pair of pants five times too many. 

This style epiphany has also translated to other parts of my Swedish experience; I've been more okay with spending time by myself, specifically in the confines of my warm apartment, than having to be busy 24/7. Getting out into the city just to enjoy an hour-long fika might be a minor accomplishment, but it's still an accomplishment! Hygge may directly translate to fun, but it could mean the opposite—taking time to decompress is the best thing for our mental clarity, especially when this lack of sunlight is driving me to week-long depressive episodes. So if all you can put together is a turtleneck under a sweater with the pair of jeans you wear way too often, congratulate yourself—winter is hard.

And then I couldn't help but wonder... can hygge even be translated to the warm summer months?

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Stockholm's Style Feels Far Too Personal

Not like an invasion of privacy, but more like we're already best friends.

Approximately 18 months ago, I decided that I would move to anywhere in Scandinavia for at least a semester. My deep, insightful reason was that it just felt right, but in actuality, it was because I just finished watching the first three seasons of SKAM in only four days during my winter break freshman year. Norway seemed so cool! So me! I had never gotten a glimpse of what Scandinavian culture was like until the show—all I assumed was that everyone was blonde and that it was freezing year-round (both myths, I later discovered). After watching the Norwegian show three more times in the same year, I was not only infatuated with the idea of living there, but married to it. I began following far too many Scandinavian style icons on Instagram, becoming familiar with Scandinavian culture and lingo, and then eventually deciding to study gender and sexuality studies in Stockholm for a semester.

And guess what?

That semester is now!

Yes, I'm currently in Stockholm for the next four months if you were unaware and/or not paying attention to my recent IG posts. I stepped into this fascinating city about two weeks ago, and although I only know how to say about five words in Swedish, I feel like I've finally come home. My summer move to NYC last year doesn't even come close. The independent, reserved, and non-hierarchal nature of Swedes feels too familiar to my own personality, and the idea that fika, aka taking a break from your busy day with coffee, a bun (cardamom is my favorite, btw), and friends is a highly practiced event here makes me never want to return to the states where long work days and minimal breaks are very much a thing. And then I think of the evergrowing queer scene here, as well as its feminist policies and laws, and I feel like I should extend my stay to far longer than a few months. All I know is that returning home come December will be a hell of a lot harder than the depressing few days after a week-long vacation in Spain or France, as I probably will become that person who comes out of her abroad experience as a "changed person." 

But if I feel like my best and truest self here, am I actually changing or just shifting to who I'm meant to be?

Existential soul-searching aside, I also mean this in terms of style. As I say time and time again, style and identity are deeply enmeshed, so it would make all the sense that both my style and identity fit perfectly into the complex puzzle of islands that is Stockholm. After living here for a short two weeks, I've observed that Swedes agree with the notion that style and identity are inseparable. Answering the question of which came first, style or identity, is near impossible, as each consequently influences each other on a day-to-day basis. It feels that no one attempts to mask their true selves with what they put on their body; instead, it simply highlights who they are, or at least think of themselves to be. This theory of mine brings in a whole lot of style diversity, a lack of overplayed trends, and, most importantly, some really cool outfits. Even just during my commute from my apartment to class, I can easily make a long list of all the looks that both emphasize this style-identity dynamic but also that I could bring to my own style (personal style is destined to be influenced by others, if you forgot). Then I realized what exactly makes Stockholm's style so good, so personal, and so, so familiar—people simply dress to embody what they believe their best selves to be. That's the exact mindset I bring to my sartorial decisions, so maybe I really am Swedish at heart. Should I just call my family now and say I'm never coming home?

Dress and shorts are vintage. Shoes by Madewell.

While I already see myself dressing like a true Stockholmer when in the states, being here has brought this tendency out even more, where there are only two criteria I need to follow: a) comfort and b) unconventionality. It may seem strange to put these two antonyms together, but let me explain—comfort simply means to wear what I feel best in, while to be unconventional means to wear something unexpected from the norm. As I already stray towards weirder styles, these two requirements don't feel too difficult to follow. Another non-requirement, but something that Swedes definitely lean towards, is to wear mostly thrifted pieces, which is something I already do on the daily. Although I am in the home of H&M, both large-scale and boutique-style vintage stores greatly outnumber fast fashion. A wonderful, wonderful discovery, yet a curse to my bank account (which, by the way, is already dwindling, as Stockholm is one of the most expensive cities in Europe). 

So! To make my Stockholm style dreams come true, I did the unexpected, but also the expected for what I would typically wear—a vintage red '90s babydoll dress partially tucked into some denim Bermudas with a pair of white loafers. Summer is the peak time for Swedes to dress, as the long, warm days bring out the best in its residents. Color! Really cool shoes! Shorts cut at unexpected lengths! As temps are already dropping and short days will become a reality very soon, the time to dress is now. They'll spend all of their waking hours outdoors, even if it's raining, just to get the last bits of sun. So why not show off? It's never to show that they think they're better than others (they're non-hierarchical, remember?); rather, it's to show that they put effort into the sartorial side of their lives. Creatures of style, I suppose? And, once again, I already feel like everything I've been doing my entire life works too well with how the Swedes do it. This sense of familiarity makes this big move less frightening than it should be. Hopefully I'll be able to survive the cold and 3pm sunsets come December.

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Madrid Made Me Wear My Weirdest Outfit Yet

And I truly thought I couldn't get any weirder.

It's been two weeks since I've left Spain, and I'm going through two distinct emotional whirl winds. One that is, what I like to call, PED (or Post Europe Depression), which I have witnessed every single time I've returned to America after being anywhere in Europe for over four days, which is also seen here and here. PED is really going to hit hard when I live in Stockholm for four months this fall and have to unwillingly return to the states come December. The second journey is one that is focused on style, of course, because being in a foreign country for some time that carries a completely different fashion sense than your own can challenge everything you once imagined to be true. This obviously happened when I was in France for two whole weeks last year, obviously happened when I was still trying to find myself when I was a mere 16-year-old and I went to London, Paris, and Florence in the span of 10 days. These all make sense, as those regions all carry distinctive styles that are a obviously a product of that region.

But Spain? Really??

Spain seems to nail literally everything but personal style, and also knowing how to sleep during normal hours. This isn't saying that Spain is an unfashionable country, but it's really just an observation that it's not their priority. Yes, we have beautiful Spanish clothing and shoe brands like Paloma Wool and About Arianne and the best style icons like Maria Bernad, all originating from Barcelona. But I didn't even step foot into this city, and everywhere else, including Madrid, really could care less about style. To be quite honest, the most stylish people I saw were French tourists and exchange students from Scandinavia and, not to brag, myself, only because I actually put far too much effort into the clothes I put on my body. Was it to overcompensate for the lack of style inspiration? Maybe. What I do know is that I tried a lot of things that fell outside the norm for me whilst on this trip. One being the concept of napping, which is something I will never understand as I always feel like a truck just ran into me the minute I wake up from a mid-day sleep. But that didn't stop me on this trip! The other is how I approached style—I usually try to get a general grasp of a new city's style and mold it to fit my own personal style, but that wasn't the case in Madrid. In Granada, I did tend to fall into this sleepy summer aesthetic that screams Granada and Call Me by Your Name, but in Madrid, I, to put in the simplest of terms, did whatever the fuck I wanted with my style. I didn't feel that I fit into their regional style, so instead of whining about it, I just created my own rules. And this made me go over the edge in some ways, especially with one particular outfit in mind. See below.

Dress is vintage, from Antoinette in Brooklyn. Jeans are vintage Levi's, from a (wonderful) vintage shop in Granada. Turtleneck by Madewell. Shoes by Zara (similar here).

You probably recognize that infamous dress, as I wore it practically once a week near the end of last summer, sometimes alone, sometimes with jeans, sometimes with shorts. But all in the summer. Yes, spring is already here and we should be able to don summer styles freely with zero obstacles, but the weather has obviously proven itself to be a huge one! This isn't limited to the states, it was also a hinderance in Spain. It typically gets no warmer than 50 in March in Madrid, so I was forced to somehow transform this obviously-summer dress into a winter one. When I was packing for this trip, my friend told me she was bringing a single dress, just in case. Without even thinking, I stuffed this one in my suitcase because it's actually way more versatile than it looks, and I really didn't know what to expect of a) the weather or, even more significantly, b) the style of Spain. Upon my decision to go completely off the rails with my style decisions, I pulled this baby out of my tiny suitcase and spent some time figuring out how I could create my weirdest outfit yet with what I hardly had. I would typically pair it with one of my pairs of blue vintage Levi's, but the single pair I brought was far from wearable, as sweat and wear of the past few days practically destroyed them until their next wash. So I scanned my options of pants and immediately decided to wear the pair I had just bought, which was a beige (or khaki??) pair of Levi's 501s that I couldn't say no to, because whenever I find a pair of vintage Levi's that fit me, I feel obligated to purchase them. That could've been the outfit, but I also felt obligated to wear a turtleneck under everything, as it was still too cold to go out sans layers. And to make matters even worse, I decided to finish the 'fit with the most extra pair of shoes I own, aka these red boots that make for excellent looks and loads of foot cramps if you happen to wear them all day walking around the city of Madrid.

And that, my friends, is how I managed to defy Madrid's style and also somehow end up wearing all of my strangest sartorial decisions in one outfit. They key here is, however, that although I look like a walking catastrophe, I felt like the complete opposite. Is it because it truly defines my chaotic nature? Maybe. Just maybe.

Photo taken by Maddie.

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Granada is the City of my European Summer Dreams

Even when it's only March.

To all my travel-lovers: do you ever wonder exactly why you love traveling? Is it the cultural immersion? The history? Maybe just the food and drink aspect?

Although tapas and vino sound like the best reason to visit Spain, for me, there's a huge factor that keeps me coming back to new places like this one. Just like fashion, traveling to new cultures has transformative effects. So if you were to ask me why I would drop my entire life and responsibilities and travel, I would answer with this: living in a foreign country for just a few days has the ability to make the impossible possible. It's got powers that make dreams come true! Sounds cheesy, yes, but let me explain:

If I'm feeling a lil' blue, I always turn to fashion to up my mood and transform into something better that only style can fix. Its healing powers are why I constantly fix this one part of my life if all else is falling apart. Or simply, if I wish to embody a certain feeling that can only be performed through fashion, I do the same. Lately, this has been me with an easy breezy summer, one that is obviously nowhere to be found based on cold temps and far too many responsibilities but is surprisingly easy to produce with the clothes I put on my body. This longing for summer for 16 months straight is where travel comes in, especially Granada. Being in this town for only three days, even when it's been raining and chilly for 80% of the time, makes me feel just like I'm in summer, but particularly my '80s summer dream that I've been dreaming of nonstop ever since I watched Call Me by Your Name for the first time (then again and again for four more times, plus the book twice). Was I in Italy? Nope. Was it summer? Definitely not, as it poured rain for two out of the three days I was there, and it never reached over 55 degrees. But did I feel like I was living in that European summer dream that I immediately travel to when I hear the first notes of Hallelujah Junction, aka the opening song of the aforementioned film, which I also watched on the plane ride way there? Absolutely.

The minute I was placed in Granada I saw several orange trees on every street corner, and I immediately thought of those infamous peach trees that instantly allude to a sweet summer. Walking through the tight alleyways that acted as roads and looking at bright but faded buildings and noticing sleepy streets one minute and lively ones the next transferred me to a place of zero responsibilities, of summer siestas (which happen year-round in Spain, btw), and of a summer love that can transcend all other romances. Did I fall in love in Granada? Absolutely not, I was there for three days. But could I fall in love in the way that summer romances go if I lived there? Maybe, maybe not, but I know I did fall in love with the town. Shouldn't that be enough?

Throughout my summer fantasy, I realized it would be even more effective if I dressed the part. Sounds easy, no? Well actually, no—as I mentioned earlier, it was raining and nowhere near summer temps. If only I could wear denim-cutoffs and breezy button-ups with espadrille slides, or maybe even ditch the shoes altogether. But the strange March weather (the friend I was visiting said it never rains) hindered on my summer dreams, making me have several fashion-related mental breakdowns. But alas, they were cured when I decided to work in summer (and CMBYN)-esque vibes into my looks that were typically covered with a rain jacket and consisted of pants instead of shorts. For exhibit A we have...

Button-down by Urban Outfitters (similar here). Strapless top (under button-down) by Tobi. Levi's are vintage, from The Break. Shoes by Veja, in collaboration with Madewell. Leather jacket and raincoat not shown, but definitely needed to keep me warm and dry when the sun wasn't out for ten minutes when this photo was taken.

I attempted to style my favorite button-down at the moment, aka one coming from the men's section and that has nude sketches, because why not, in a way I had never done before—completely unbuttoned, tied at the waist, and with a taupe tube top that I typically wear alone or under a blazer, not under button-downs. Even sans pants, I already felt like I fit into a Spanish summer, and if it were feasible, I would slip on my Levi's cutoffs and call it a day. The no shoes were intentional. But to fit with the weather, I slipped on full-length Levi's, aka the next best thing to the desired shorts, and my newest (and now deemed favorite) sneakers from Veja, which is a 100% sustainable sneaker company based in Paris. Felt like a perfect compromise with the weather, as I would still wear full-length Levi's in the summer, and these Vejas perfectly match those unmistakeable shoes Armie Hammer constantly wears in the film. Me standing under this orange tree is resembling of Elio picking a few peaches right before the scene (if you've watched the movie, you should know what I'm talking about).

Shirt bought from an Angel Olsen show last December that are (unfortunately) unavailable. Pants are vintage, also from The Break. Jacket by Madewell. Shoes by Veja. Sunglasses by Lisa Says Gah.

On this day, the sun was actually out all day long. I took this weather to my advantage and pulled on breezy trousers in the most perfect shade of dusty green with a tee displaying a photo of Angel Olsen. For a look perfect for Elio (or Yorkie from San Junipero), I used my newest denim jacket, a staple I will never stop buying more of, as my (only!) layer, and that was it. No neck scarf, no extravagant jewelry, nothing. And that's what summer should be about—straightforward and simple, accessories not needed. I felt like I had just gotten off of a bike in Crema, ready to grab a drink or bite of food, which I actually did right after these photos were taken, sitting outside on the cobble-stone streets facing the beautiful city of Granada. Surreal is an understatement.

Will I ever stop talking about Call Me by Your Name on this blog? The answer is unknown. But I do know that even when summer is full-blown come this May, I'll never be able to have this feeling unless I'm in the European summer city of my dreams. Until next time, Granada.

First photo taken by me, other photos taken by Averie and Maddie.

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A Guide to Seattle

I've spent the last five(ish) days in the Pacific Northwest, visiting a friend who lives in Seattle during my much-needed spring break. This is my third time on the West coast (San Francisco and L.A. being my first two times) and my first official time in the PNW. How ~exotic~! Now I'm currently on the plane back to East, realizing that being born and raised in the Southeast and then only moving a bit north on the same coast to D.C. for college categorizes myself into an East coast baby, where time automatically moves at a quicker rate and selfish tendencies are only out of self-preservation, not snobbishness. I've let this persona identify me throughout my entire life, telling myself that I would only live on the East coast for the rest of my life, unless I were to leave the country entirely. The West never enticed me; California seems like they're too into themselves and states North of that were just completely foreign to me. Places that are either a) the same temp year round or b) perpetually covered in rain clouds and aren't associated with humidity are other worldly to me--as much as I despise my hometown of the Atlanta suburbs, its erratic seasons and sweltering, humid summers are weirdly comforting to me. My move to the nation's capital still carried that same, East coast climate; the only shift was political, a complete transition to 95% conservative to 95% liberal. But Seattle is the complete opposite of my home! The liberal shift does take place, but so does the weather, so does the attitude, so does the fashion. An almost overwhelming shift, but it was actually a shift in the right direction, something I would have never imagined. Let's see if I did the PNW right, a question I always seem to ask myself after I travel (like my last time in NYC):

Top by Monogram. Jeans and belt by Madewell. Neck scarf by J. Crew. Boots by Topshop.

I got a feel for Seattle fashion by walking around local neighborhoods, and planned my outfits both according to what this city dresses like but also according to what I want to dress like (as always). The combination of laid-back, grungy, and quirky style, which usually consists of 90% thrifted materials, told me to pair my newest pair of Madewell perfect summer jeans, or what I like to call "flattering mom jeans," with a graphic tee that's meant to look vintage but is really brand new from this L.A. based company that is 100% sustainable, made in the U.S., and is made of homemade fabrics (this combo seems very Seattle to me). To make this relaxed look my own, I tied a neck scarf around my neck, an art that feels like second nature to me by now, and slipped on my gold heeled ankle boots, ready for day one.

I drove around for almost two hours, just trying to find parking, then finally found a place next to Pike Place Market, ready to be a tourist for the day. Walked around the shops, took an obnoxious amount of photos of my friends, bought a few snacks (I'm already missing that curry beef-stuffed bun).

Continued to pass out at 10 pm--time zones are no fun.

~~~

Entered my first ever Seattle thrift shop, an experience that needed to be documented but unfortunately was not. Bought a vintage pair of Levi's shorts that will be DIYed very soon, along with a bandana, for the price of one meal in D.C. Continued to ask myself why this was my first time purchasing items from a second-hand shop (excluding Goodwill), and swore off of non-thrifted items for the rest of my life, which will probably be broken once I visit the new & Other Stories shop in Georgetown next week.

Took obligatory photos of view, of my friends with the view, and of my friends and I with the view (ft. my Madewell overalls and Zara ruffle sweater/pirate top).

Orange tank by Urban Outfitters. Navy top by Topshop. Pants by Zara. Fishnets by Asos. Shoes by Vans.

For my other ~officially documented~ Seattle lewk, I opted for the edgy route and paired business-casual cropped trousers with items that are the exact opposite--a cropped orange tank over a navy ribbed crop top, fishnets, and my (newest) pair of Old Skool Vans (also peep my new Glossier cloud paint!). How skater girl of me!!

I walked around Capitol Hill in this 'fit (which, by the way, is completely different than the Capitol Hill of D.C.; it's more similar to the Castro of SF), which consisted of more thrifting, attending a hip coffee shop that is actually owned by Starbucks but tries to act like it's not because its customers are too much of coffee snobs to actually buy coffee from an actual Starbucks, and spending too much money on Thai food and records.

Dogs were an extremely important aspect of this trip, btw.

I spent my last day going to Bainbridge Island (where my friend is a nanny for a few kids), and on the ferry ride there (and back), I realized that this ride was a crucial part of many kids' childhoods. Overlap occurred when I looked back onto those ferry rides to Bald Head Island, an East coast beach town that filled my summers and winters as a child. Maybe Seattle isn't so different than my neck of the woods after all.

Photos of me shot by Julia, all other photos shot by me.

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How to Look Parisian Without Really Trying

I said in my last post that you should expect this post I'm currently writing yesterday. And once again, the summer lazy blues have hit me. But here I am, only one day late! And I'm here to talk about something very close to my heart -- Paris.

I spent some time in my last post talking about every location I visited in France but Paris because it deserves its own post. And I could talk for days about every aspect of the city, but it looks like I only have time for the style category. And what a topic for Paris!! I thought NYC was the most style-centric town in the world, but right as I stepped onto those beautiful Parisian streets, my stigma of everything fashion related vanished into thin air as the fashion ideals of Paris came crashing into my mind, replacing all my prior thoughts. It was spooky. I've been to Paris before, back in 2014 on a school trip, but I guess I didn't notice style as much before I started this blog that November. And here's where I get to my point: there's a certain style about Paris that is effortlessly cool (just like L.A.) but in a manner I can actually understand. L.A. only intimidated me while Paris welcomed me into her warm, loving arms. I was home, and I don't speak French (on another note, this trip has actually inspired me to take classes Spring semester). That's why the latter portion of my title is "without really trying", because I didn't have to try this time. I felt at ease, kind of like I did that one time in NYC (style epiphanies are definitely a thing), so I decided to use my finesse to good use and create a semi-formal how-to for Parisian style, like I've done several times. I'm a sucker for guides and how-to's.

I've noticed from other bloggers and actually observing Parisians a few key rules:
a) They follow a simple lifestyle, in all aspects (especially fashion). Like Coco Chanel said (and I'm paraphrasing), always take one thing off before you leave the house. Also, there can never be too much black.
b) They'd rather wear flats over heels and sneakers over those fancy over-the-knee suede boots and they wear minimal makeup. Similar to the above statement, but more like a no-fuss, practical lifestyle.
c) But boy, do they love making statements! Investment pieces can make an outfit, and they also have a thing for a red lip.
d) The term juxtaposition is not only used in literature, but it is most definitely overused in Parisian style. Does that make sense? Mix two unlikely items, and you'll get one wonderful look.

And if you're a visual person:

T-shirt from an Arcade Fire show. Skirt by Zara (similar here). Neck scarf by Urban Outfitters. Shoes by Adidas. Sunglasses by Madewell.

Here is me almost getting run over by hundreds of crazy Parisian drivers on my very first day (what a way to go!!). And I've already made my statement. But to follow the other rules: I based this outfit on the juxtaposition concept because I have this thing for comparing fashion to complex literature. I paired my Zara midi (yes, it's okay to re-wear items on two-week long trips) with a band t-shirt for Arcade Fire that also features a piece by Rodin, the French artist (and I went to the museum dedicated to him that same day!). This is my first time wearing a band tee in an actually fashionable way, and I've decided that I'm going to be doing this way more often, with all possible skirt lengths and shapes. I then wore my floral neck-tie choker style because I was standing in the place that inspired me to start this trend in the beginning. I slipped on my Adidas instead of my slides because practicality and finally smeared my NARS red lipstick over my lips like they were begging for water (how cool would it be if we could get our water servings by wearing lipstick?). And under those sunglasses I'm wearing not a drop of eye makeup, and instead of feeling insecure I felt très cool (what a confidence booster!). The next day my dad was talking to me about Parisian styles, and he noticed that I was already blending into their usual looks. Looks like I'm doing everything right.

Dress by Anthropologie. 

Investment pieces are everything! The French and I agree on many things, and this happens to be one of them. Because I was on day 11 of traveling, I had an unfortunately lazy mentality, but according to the rules of Parisian style, that's okay! So I simply slipped on one of my favorite investment pieces, that dress I've been wanting for months from Anthropologie that I referenced in this post from March. It really does work wonders for the less is more theory. To finish the outfit, all I had to do was tie the laces of my Stan Smiths (do I sense a juxtaposition in this look, too?) and I was done. That was easy. 

Dress by Zara (I bought this dress ages ago, but here's another statement dress that could work).

All I really need to say here is this: about a year ago I went to Montreal for the first time and wore this dress because I said it gave off Parisian vibes and now I'm actually wearing it in Paris. That's about as Parisian as I can get. Also, I decided to tie that floral neck scarf around my wrist instead to change things up on my last day and to ~make a statement~. 

While unwillingly getting on the miserable plane ride that later gave me an infected tonsil, I realized that everything came so easily to me and that I should live here one day. Time to start taking some French classes.

All photos taken by my dad.

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A Guide to France

It's been 21 days since I've typed into my keyboard for the sole purpose of this blog and man, does it feel good. And miserable. Because I had a much-needed hiatus to the beautiful country of France, but I also was not able to blog during said trip due to the robbery of my dad's laptop (among other things). And I also would've changed 21 days to 19 days if my tonsils weren't inflamed (I guess that's what nine hours of a dehydrated plane ride does to you), but I will persevere through this sickness and write! as I lay on my couch in the same t-shirt from two days ago while binge watching Freaks and Geeks and How to Get Away with Murder. And among all this misery, I can only think of the wonder that is France.

As a fellow travel-lover, I have become a pro at packing for any trip and location. We're going to the Dominican Republic? Ok, bring a bathing suit for every day of the week, three coverups, and the best pair of sandals you own. What about California? Same with the bathing suits but take out five, change the coverups to five investment dresses, add a pair of jeans, denim cutoffs, and two going-out tops, and keep those sandals but also add your cool-girl sneakers. But then the words "We're going to France for two weeks!" hit me and the sun peeked through the gloomy clouds in the stormy sky of every trip I've ever been on because this has been my dream for as long as I can remember. And I don't even speak a drop of French. So you may think my packing list would only include stripes and bandanas, but only half of that statement is correct, which you could probably guess based off my recent obsession of tying various fabrics around my neck for both warmth or cool-girl points. In this case, however, instead of aiming for typical French-girl looks, I aimed for looks that proved ubiquity and practicality, which does seem like the French girl's motto.

Pants by Mango (try a wider cut here). Tank by Gap (or try this). Shoes by Urban Outfitters. Sunglasses by Madewell. My sister got the bag from a market in Florence two years ago, and the bandana I've owned for as long as I can remember.

This is day two of the trip, where I'm still 97% jet-lagged but 100% ready to get out and explore the beauty of France, because guess what? There's more than just Paris. Here I'm in Mont Saint-Michel, stop #1 of the trip, which is this big Hogwarts-looking-setup surrounded by water that actually used to be an Abby back in the day and is now a big tourist attraction. But for time purposes, I like to call it the French Hogwarts. While packing for my two week endeavor, I realized that France has strange temps in the summer, ranging from 60-90 degrees. This conflict forced me to pack my single pair of pants that can be worn in such climates, and of course they happened to be white (site note: do NOT choose to bring white pants as the only pair of pants you bring on a trip.) I slipped these on for this day because the French Hogwarts was further north, but continued to wear a strapless tank that reminds me of Van Gogh's Irises (how French!) and slides that my mom likes to call "Italian grandma shoes" even though I'm in the country north of that. I then tied the black bandana around my neck, Parisian style (even though I still had nine days until Paris), as if it was instinct and my brain didn't have to tell my hands what to do. This would continue to be a problem for the rest of the trip. Here I felt très Français, white pants and all, like some type of French sailor ready to sail the world (but in this case, the world is just the country of France).

Top by Topshop (similar here). Skirt by Zara (similar here). Bandana similar to the one I wore on day two. 

Now I've reached day five of the trip, unfortunately skipping the quiet town of Amboise (I was too busy château hopping to get outfit shots) to the historic and art-filled town of Arles. Along with the rich history of the Romans and Van Gogh, it was hot. 100 degrees, sweating out all of my fluids, and being exhausted by 3 pm hot. Every 20-something was extremely stylish here, in a midi dress and slides way, so wearing denim cutoffs and a tank wouldn't cut it. I hate the heat, so I encountered another fashion challenge today and decided to wear my new midi from Zara (sidenote: Zara is so good right now!!) with a ribbed crop top because showing an inch of stomach somehow works magic in weather that feels like hell. But I was in Arles, so it was more like this beautiful version of hell. I continued to tie yet another bandana around my neck, choker style this time, and because I was beginning to sweat it off, I forced myself to take it off and tie it around my bag instead. I finally slipped on the sandals I attempted to wear every day on my trip (which was a complete failure because these shoes have zero support) and was ready to take on the heat. Unfortunately, my outfit did not make me sweat less than any other look, but I still felt like I fit in with the rest of the style. And that was my entire point this trip: attempt to figure out the fashion of each town, and fit those standards to my own personal style. 

Top by Zara (or try this). Pants by Mango (remember these from day two?).

Shorts by J. Crew (or try these). 

And now I've finally reached day seven of the trip, aka the halfway mark of my French endeavor. Here I'm in St. Remy, a town similar to Arles (both in the Provence region) but more like a smaller, countryside version that also includes a rich history with Van Gogh. In the first photo, I'm wearing a top that can make an outfit and that requires no accessories (reason for the surprisingly bare neck). I paired it with my white pants, which are gradually getting extremely filthy. An hour later after this picture was taken, the grease from the pizza I'm holding dripped onto my pants, and in that moment, I really learned the lesson that white pants are not ideal for traveling. But the Tour de France was happening at that exact moment! I then continued to travel three hours to the beautiful beach-side town of Antibes, which is featured in the second, low quality Instagram photo. When I arrived, I immediately stripped off my white jeans and stripped on these shorts that you probably remember from here. And that's the beauty of this top: it magically works with everything, even though it somewhat resembles a clown's worst nightmare. I still have a heavy heart because right behind me in the photo is the town of Nice, and this picture was taken just hours before the tragedy occurred. But I realized that through tragedy, beauty will always come through the surface because Antibes is probably the most beautiful place I have ever been inside of. And all is well! We are safe! We continued onto Paris for the next four days, which will be reserved for my next post (spoiler: It's titled How to Look Parisian Without Really Trying). Au revoir!

All photos taken by my dad, who is also a photographer.

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The City of Angels

I'm back! I feel like I've started every post in the past two months with that thought, but that's only because I'm so damn busy, or on a worse note, so damn lazy. I can't help it. It's summer. But I blame this recent hiatus on the first excuse I gave because I was ~vacationing~. Well, if you also count college orientation as a vacation (which, in all honesty, felt like one. College is going to rock). But then I made my way from George Washington University in D.C. to L.A. to visit a friend (remember her from here and here?). This has been a week and a half of new endeavors, I suppose. From college orientation straight to a city I've never been to, it's been hectic. But hectic is good! My life will be hectic 24/7 in a few months, so I might as well start now.

So Los Angeles. L.A.  The city of angels, right? West coast, best coast? As a fellow East-coaster, California has been an enigma to me. I went once last summer, but they don't care what you do in San Francisco. Everything's different in L.A., I thought. And it was. Everything was so spread out and I've now decided that L.A. traffic should go on the top ten list of the worst things ever. Apart from having to sit in your Uber for 45 minutes just go get downtown, L.A. felt, well, strange. So I guess it can still fall in the enigma category for me, even after visiting it for five days.

People cared. About looks, personal appearance, the clothes you put on your body. It was never direct, but whenever I walked past people who were probably models or L.A. fashion bloggers or just elitists, I felt a sense of discomfort, like I didn't belong. And how did I manage to deal with this? With a big middle finger to those who cared too much about my own personal decisions. Or in non-metaphoric terms, I wore what I wanted to wear. And had a damn good time.

Here's how I did it:

Top by Zara. Shorts by Gap (similar here). Scarf by Urban Outfitters. Sunglasses by Madewell. Shoes from a boutique in San Francisco (or try these). 

The style in L.A. is supposedly "effortlessly cool" with a ton of simple and a touch of trendy. The hypocrisy in all of this is it is not effortless. Only true L.A. girls can pull this off, which I immediately shook my head at and decided to do my own thing. In this scenario I wanted to go for a casual summer look with denim shorts but then I made those shorts très cool by pairing them with a going out top (did I do it right?) from Zara. Off the shoulder tops are kind of dead but this one doesn't necessarily fall into that category. This top immediately eliminates the simple factor in the L.A. style, so I continued to add more: a neck scarf and a pair of sunglasses. Now that's how you do L.A. fashion.

I love you, Malibu 

A video posted by Natalie Geisel (@fracturedaesthetic) on Jun 15, 2016 at 1:09pm PDT

Dress by Urban Outfitters (or try another midi like this). Shoes by Adidas. Sunglasses by Madewell. 

Here I went a completely different route: simple but in the wildest way possible. The dress I'm wearing is from Urban Outfitters ten years ago (older sister hand-me-downs are the best!). I completed the look with my Adidas because the dress said it all -- an eccentric pattern and not one, but two leg slits is enough to make my point. What is my point, exactly? To dress like me (and that's why personal style is so important right now!) 

Dress by Lou & Grey (or try this by Asos). Jacket by Topshop. Sunglasses by Madewell. Shoes by Adidas.

On my final day I accidentally was a little too L.A. -- a white dress with a bandana choker fit in a little too well with the looks of people strolling down Melrose Avenue (and posing in front of this pink wall). I added the jacket to make it my own, but then I realized the whole point of this fashion challenge was not to stray away from L.A. styles but to not change my own style to fit in with California standards. And maybe overlapping will occur (like it did here!). So I slid my sunglasses off, looked around at the well-dressed people, and recognized that maybe I was one of them. Or maybe I'm not meant for the West at all -- the East coast is better, anyway.

First two photos taken by my sister, Kendall, and last two photos taken by my friend, Lauren.

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A Guide to NYC or (A Lesson in Layers)

Does anyone realize that I titled this based off of how Birdman or (The Unexpected Virtue of Ignorance) (also my favorite movie) is titled? Anyways, I'm riding in the backseat of the car that is directing towards my house in the location that's the opposite of the place I've been for nearly six days, and I wonder, did I do NYC right? Like when I went down to ATL and thought that exact same thought, but the two cities are so different. Then I realized shortly after that NYC is the place I want to live in six months (hopefully), so if I genuinely acted the way I have always wanted to act, I should be doing NYC right. Right? Let's rewind a bit to see if I am correct (even though, at the end of the day, there is no right or wrong way to do a city, which is also my closing statement in the ATL post).

Put on as many layers as possible, but in an innovative French way, which you saw in my last post... check.

Walk around Nolita and NoHo right near Washington Square Park in said outfit to authentic coffee shops before your scheduled food tour (those exist?), and also take photos of your deliciously cute (and small) cappuccino and inspirational quotes on poles. Check.

Wake up the next morning to find the low is literally three degrees, no joke there, so put on even more layers than yesterday's outfit. Like, a hot pink turtleneck to warm up that frozen hell outside, a sheer shirt/dress-type-piece to add a flowy-sillouhette and a collar because why not, a thick black sweater because cold, then some boyfriend jeans because skinnies won't fit over the hidden knit tights worn under the jeans.

Turtleneck by J. Crew. Collared shirt by Urban Outfitters. Sweater by Madewell. Jeans by Gap. Shoes by Adidas.

Continue to showcase layer-centric outfit inside Guggenheim Museum because I looked like a black life-size marshmallow outside. Also, add some socks that only feature Ryan Gosling's face because knowing his face is on my feet immediately adds instant warmth. 

Then take, like, a billion photos at the Guggenheim but only post a few of the best ones that also happen to be the most unknown pieces, is that why they're the favorites? 

In the middle of everything, constantly refresh Twitter/Instagram/Snapchat for NYFW updates, and also cry because so close, yet so far.

And then eat at the best Thai restaurant in the Upper East Side (called The Nuaa) no earlier than 9 p.m. and walk back to the hotel looking like the same life-size marshmallow as before, but even larger because the weather officially dropped to three. Check.

Wake up thinking that the frozen hell is over, but find out that it's actually colder than the day before, and cry while layering on even more layers -- a corduroy Topshop dress over a white Asos turtleneck, another wider (and thicker) turtleneck over all of that, and then like two pairs of tights and three pairs of socks. And that's just the indoors part. Continue to not take any photos of this outfit because I was too cold and grumpy to take off my coat/hat/scarf.

Eliminate that cold/grumpy mood by seeing Hamilton later that day, get trampled by crazy Hamilton fans in Times Square prior to the show, but get emotional with those same fans during the show. A nice bonding moment. Check.

Wake up to happily see snow and a high of above freezing, and through happy tears, put my last outfit for NY together, which happened to be my worst, but it also included two turtlenecks (including my hot pink one from Saturday) like the outfit the day before so it can't be too bad.

Turtleneck by J. Crew. Dress by Asos. Jacket by Juicy Couture.

While walking to the Met, accidentally run into NYFW (the two locations just make things confusing for me) and not really realize it until everyone around me is either impeccably dressed or has a huge zoom lens on their camera. Then have a two-minute long freakout session because it's NYFW!! The dream!! then force my sister to take photos of me because street style then sigh because I would exchange this denim jacket for a fur one and these chelsea boots for Dior-esque heeled-booties and maybe, just maybe that would get me recognized by street style photographers.

Then take some photos of the scene (more up-close and detailed ones will be featured on the blog in a few days), and also cram your way through pushy photographers just to get the perfect shot of the best street style, because I can be a fashion writer and a fashion photographer at the same time, right?

Finally leave the scene to go to the Met because it got colder and everyone left for the Tommy Hilfiger show, then continue to get lost in the Met because it's a literal maze of art.

Walk outside after 2-3ish hours of art to see a winter wonderland and get this giddy feeling because it's my first snow in the city!! And also wonder how those two girls at NYFW who were wearing pumps and no socks are doing. Check. 

And that's it! Well, all the important/maybe-not-so-important-but-cool parts. That's NYC for you, at least four days of it, and I think I did it right, layers and activities included. My ideal version would be to spend all four (preferably seven) days running around to see all the fashion week shows, but ideal is rarely the reality. See me at the shows in five years, I promise. 

All photos shot by me, except the ones featuring me, which were taken by Kendall.

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