Robyn, working the Marlboro man look from Ralph. Yes. Next time the BSD heads West into the desert, seeking his Manifest Destiny and riding bareback on wild steed, this is what he'll be wearing. Also great for an Urban Cowboy tribute. (Note: BSD pant roll)
Love the tee and jacket from YSL. Thankfully, by this time, I'd had my seat reassigned to the front row, away from Zinedine Zidane (see Front Row Photos).
Jacket- Yes. Would the BSD be dropping sausage in this ensemble? Yes.
This suit from Spurr is killer. Throw in the boutonniere and its magnetized.
I know its only September, but the BSD is absolutely dying to get back on his yacht! And when he does, rest assured, he'll be wearing this from Ralph Lauren, shoes included. He'll also be unveiling his new boat, the SS the George Takei (Yes, two "the's"), a modern yachting marvel that combines speed with sensuality and traditional yachting prowess with advanced engineering. And a rear cabin with a sign over the door that says "Rear Cabin".
Alright Patrick Ervell, indie It-boy, I'll give you this jacket. It may make its way to the SS the George Takei, only to be ripped from the BSD's mannish shoulders and tossed to the port of his bedside, commingling with the lavish undergarments of his downtown ice-princess lover.
Love and hate. Love the whole look Geller has going here. Love the boots, love the vests. Hate the Givenchy bite on the bottoms though. And again with the capris.
This jacket is murdering people and then humping their dead carcasses. Its amazing. And has human characteristics. At least those of a serial necrophiliac.
The BSD digs this ensemble. I picture myself rocking this, Seine-side, meandering, half-tipsy through the heart of Paris, hand on my lover's behind, her neck craning to see if we can still make it on the next riverboat, I assuredly telling her that, "No, we can't" and then continues to insist, "But if we hurry-" and I cut her off, saying, "Kiss me now or lose me forever." She keeps up with her nagging and the BSD pushes her in the water, laughing the laugh of a man who has seen this before, and whose window of opportunity for prospective lady lovers is like a withering wormhole in the universe- able to be seen, but only for a fraction of a second. Like a quasar. Then, the BSD walks jauntily to the nearest brasserie, grabs a G&T, and sparks up an interesting conversation with the help, who, at 19, is trying to save up money for art school.
I mean, sweatpants with work boots is cool. I'm really hard for these pants. The top I could take or leave, and if I decided to take it, there's an army/navy store down the block and those are going for $24.99.
Finally! Thank you Ralph Lauren for making sure I have something to wear to Polo next Summer in the Hamptons. After which, of course, we'll make it over to East Hampton for a clambake before ending the night at Lilly Pond, inebriated and looking for love.
If the BSD ever decided to work, and his work necessitated a suit like this, this is the one he'd rock. Hard.
I love a spit, I love a white pant, but polka-dots- I'm just not sold. Whimsical? Yes. Would I wear it? Sure. Would I wreak of sex and whiskey in the morning? Yep.
This baby is all about the ass-pear on the right. Approved.
No comments:
Post a Comment