My BFF Bad Kitty and I just got back from a whirlwind trip to L.A. She accompanied me as part of a project I've been working on for the past couple of months.
When I say whirlwind, I mean whirl. wind. Last week I received the call: Want to come to LA? Want to bring a friend? I immediately emailed Bad Kitty who immediately said yes as I knew she would. (She's a style-writer, after all.) We left a few days later flown down via ("uhn-tss-uhn-tss-uhn-tss" party all the time) Virgin Airlines and put up at the très swank (uhn-tss-uhn-tss-uhn-tss" party all the time) Viceroy in Santa Monica. Which reminded me of sleeping in an Anthropologie.
Bad Kitty and I met up at the San Francisco airport (in the bar) and a couple of vodka-tonics later we were aboard the purple-neon lit plane buying Carbonfund.org carbon offset credits for our flight from the touch screen and flipping through an OK! Magazine. Confronted by the above photo, I declared, "I would never EVER wear that color of blue." Which of course meant, that over the course of the photo shoot, I would be outfitted in some of the brightest royal blue shirts you've ever seen. (See previous post.)
The color was frikkin' everywhere. In the airport. Out to dinner. It was following me. I was being stalked by a jewel tone.
As I peeled off my safe grey-black outfits to put on remnants from The Pointer Sisters' 1989 world tour, I felt the most self-conscious that I have ever felt in my entire life. Not to mention that every shirt seemed to enhance my Flesh Apron (™, Dana Taylor) in the most disturbing way.
Which brings me to my observation about stylists. I am convinced that a properly-styled outfit is created by grabbing a shirt in a color you'd never wear in a material you'd never wear, matching it with a sweater that never in a hundred years you'd ever pair with it, and adding the cheapest, most-obviously-plastic, golf-ball-sized-bauble-adorned necklaces leftover from a fire sale at Goodwill (in yet more clashing colors), and topping it all off with your grandmother's shoes. The ones she only wears in Florida.
Then add the world's most talented-and-adorable makeup artist, hair stylist and photographer and watch how, together, (yes, okay, along with the wardrobe stylist) they create magic.
I just might buy something in royal blue now. I'll start with a scarf and see how that goes.
Next up: How Bad Kitty and I do our best Gallagher imitation and cause the anal retentive property manager at 50 Cent's house to alllllllmost blow a gasket.