Style Icon: Alexandra Golovanoff

Thought it was due time I share another one of my girl crushes/style icons with ya. Alexandra Golovanoff, the host of the French TV show La Mode, La Mode, La Mode (a name which could never be pulled off on American TV. Not punny enough/at all.)

What I like: her slightly Russian features, beachy blonde hair, and seemingly permanent smoky eye. And her style. Though I'm a fan-turned-imitator of the minimalist French way of uniform dressing, I like how Golovanoff doesn't do a strict pant-shirt-heel combo and instead mixes and matches prints, textures, and silhouettes. Although many of her outfits seem to be straight off the runway (ie. Celine Spring 2014), her choices reflect a certain boldness and creativity that isn't very typical of what you see on the heavyweights of French street style. But then again, she's a front-of-camera television star, not an editor. Whatever, food for thought below.

Doesn't she make you want to go blonde?!?

Images via: Vanessa Jackman, Vogue.it, Glamour Paris,

A Word on Isabel Marant

One of the sources of my daily outfit inspiration, whose style I attempt to channel on the regular, is her holiness Isabel Marant. I'm a fan not just of the navajo-paisley-hip-urban-bohemian COOL clothes, but the designer's own personal style, which sounds like a silly thing to say given the blatantly obvious fact that the designer is usually outfitted in clothes of her own design. It's more than the clothes with which she chooses to put on each day, it's her overall lewk and the attitude she conveys. That which is Isabel Marant is French and that which is French is Isabel Marant, so sign me up, I say! The minimal makeup and flawless though slightly ashy complexion, messy untouched hair, uniform of skinny jeans with a sweatshirt and sneakers/flats/heels. She makes it okay to wear graphic tops with words and sayings you don't really understand, the same printed jeans more than once a week, mismatching prints, geisha buns outside of your home, knee-high white fringe boots to a locale other than a 70s-themed party, short flouncy skirts past puberty, leather pants with bulky sweaters.

THIS is what I'm talking about:

Paris to Mont Saint Michel

A few more notes re: Paris. When I wasn't traipsing around pretending I was Adele in the Someone Like You video, I went to the Premiere Class Exhibition, a trade show of sorts in a giant tent in the Twooo-ler-eeeze where hundreds of clothing and accessories brands exhibit their collections for the upcoming season. I got to wear a press pass around my neck and I felt all sorts of awkward as I walked around without a clue of what was going on. It's quite cool, and I felt extra triumphant when I sought refuge in the tent after running away from a gang of gypsies who had bombarded me asking if I spoke English. Yah, I do. The exhibition is kind of a double edged sword for shopaholics like lil' old me because while I got to look at hundreds of clothes and shoes and bags, I couldn't buy any of them until they hit stores in the summer. Tant pis. I did get a cool canvas bag though. Swag, ya know?

One of the collections on display was Le Mont St. Michel, a Brittany-based brand that has a Parisian vibe akin to Maje, Sandro, Claude Pierlot and all those designers who have now set up shop on the second floor of Bloomingdales. Madewell and Steven Alan sell some of Le Mont St. Michel's goodies, but to get the full effect you might have to transplant yourself to one of their boutiques in hashtag Paris.

Le Mont St. Michel is the best thing since sliced bread for those of us who wear striped shirts every day of the week. They've perfected the striped top in both shirt and sweater form, and if my conversion skills are correct, the tops are cheaper than those from Saint James. They also have some bomb diggity graphic sweatshirts and loose slacks. Clicky clicky here to see what I mean.

PS. The brand's namesake, uh, Le Mont Saint Michel, is one of the neatest places evar. It may or may not be one of the wonders of the world. I'm too lazy to check on Google, so if you find out, LMK. I once tried to give myself an impromptu spa treatment using the sand on its beach because I thought it would have that Dead Sea effect of clearing my acne. It didn't.