Wow, I’ve been missing in action for an inexcusable amount of time. Sorry. Unless an interesting Vegas weekend can make up for my disappearance than that’s all I got. It’s an insane place.
As cheesy as it gets. I’m talking stilettos with bikinis, fake Eiffel towers (how dare they?) head-to-toe tattoos (I may have been the only one without a bonsai tree tatted on my chest), body chains (not the Jennifer Zeuner kind), and orgies in pools. All with bottle service and hillbillies.
Even so, Best. Weekend. Ever. Somehow the company and living in the moment just made it the ultimate Vegas experience. I’m talking Fireball for breakfast, questionable pool parties and Calvin Harris at Hakkasan (with dumplings and short rib) for nighttime. Plus a little casino action (up $50).
Even so, I have this weekly ritual that occurs between myself and I where I secretly check flights to Paris and hope I can run away for just a week and indulge, get my fix, and come back to reality. I know my farewell in May wasn’t the end of it. Air France may have left a bad taste in my mouth because they bullied me into somehow paying $200 for overweight duffel bags (the kinds with no wheels that nobody helps you with.) I wasn’t just an “Américain stupide” who doesn’t understand the concept of traveling light and French rituals of sticking to one black blazer (instead of six.) Ultimately, my airport situation traumatized me (I had to throw out my laptop case and it didn’t fit in the garbage so I left it just beside it and than kept hearing something about a suspicious object left by a garbage can—and if someone didn’t claim it, that could be a 200 euro fine). Karma. I let them stress. It was a good Incase cover, what a shame.
I could’ve sworn I had a point. Shit. That always happens to me.
Anyways, with tribal vibes all over the runway, I figured it was only appropriate to recreate my own jungle goodies for the next vacation. That black romper works day and night, the espadrille oxfords add color and excitement to anything and everything, that Dannijo bib will rock any basic garment that needs a revamp, one pair of sunglasses will suffice, a mochilla is a daytime vacay necessity, and Armani lipsticks are the shit. Oh, I’m sorry, was that a run-on sentence?
Above: Sweater: Rebecca Taylor// Sunnies: Illesteva// Necklace: Dannijo (Zeus)//Espadrille Oxfords: Tabitha Simmons// cutout playsuit: T by Alexander Wang// Mochilla: Submarine// clutch: Boyy// sheer lipstick: Armani