Restrained Weirdness

Dearest readers and friends, from the land of outlet malls and house wear as going-out-and-about-wear, I write to you now to let you know I'm alive and well. I know I've been quite the neglectful blogger recently, but I'm very hopeful this post will warrant The Dandy Project's return to regular programming.

my daily walk: Commonwealth Avenue in bloom (from Boston.com)

I won't make any excuses: I haven't been particularly busy, nor have I been having technical problems with my laptop or camera; I've just found myself painfully uninspired for the last month or so. What my new city has to offer in terms of intrinsic style is either really hard to dig for, or it just doesn't exist. Not to worry though, the most outstanding of bloggers seem to come from cities you won't necessarily call fashion meccas (Jane of Sea of Shoes and Pascal of Fashion Bits and Bobs, to name a couple), so I think I'll be just fine.

I've been spending the past few weeks getting orientated with the city and my school, meeting people and making friends, and, for the purpose of being more approachable I made a conscious effort not to go all out The Dandy Project on them, rather, sticking to blacks, whites, and grays, slim and sharp, highly flattering, mildly boring. But just recently, I think my newfound friends are starting to realize how much of a whack job I am, throwing me compliments that range from "Haven't you noticed Izzy's extreeemely fashionable?" to "You're a few inches of a pompadour short of being a full-on greaser." I'm taking those as a cue for me to let loose a bit and unleash my naturally weird self, albeit ever so restrainedly.

As you can see, the neon gloves serve as my little double-shot of weird. (Urban Outfitters oversize ombre cardigan, He by Mango shirt, Topman fingerless gloves, tailor-made pants, Bass fringe and tassel Weejuns)

It was a close fight between these granddad shoes I bought and the easier-to-pull-off penny loafer type Weejuns, but I decided to take a risk and go for the fringe and tassels.

I might have regretted the decision for a full two weeks after purchasing them, but I now find myself reaching for them every morning when I get dressed.

Delightfully Bostonian, don't you think?