This past month I had the chance to attend the Dom Perignon Louis-Vuitton holiday event at their Montreal boutique. The evening was to showcase some of their fine horlogerie pieces but I was lured into attending with the prospect that I would have the chance to customize my own bag, and surely enough this was fact not fictitious bait. Though this service is offered at the larger stores it was a one night only ordeal at our tiny location, and I wasn’t going to miss it. First step was to choose the model followed by the exterior and interior leathers, hardware, and finally had the choice to add your initials inside the tote. The bags are beautiful and rival the luxury and price of a Birkin. The order and creation process takes about five months before you can finally lay a hand on your own very own Louis offspring. I’m ready to adopt… Marant for HM
Living in Canada there are many downsides that often outweigh the positive of living in a country with a great healthcare system and an awesome french community (yes, I am french Canadian). Let It Snow, a jaunty Christmas tune, has never been so painful and frustrating to listen to, as when stuck in an airpot terminal trying to get home with your flight having been delayed DUE TO WEATHER. Let me tell you, snow and I are not on great terms this holiday season, and we may never…ever…ever, be getting back together. The bitch really pissed me off. I digress we gave up the airport scene and opted to stay the night in Toronto where our flight connection was on our way to Kingston, my fiancé’s hometown. We got a little crash pad at the Drake hotel, which you should all go to as it is terrific, and had ourselves a merry and boozy little holiday evening with our friends who were in the city. I guess it is true what they say about it not being about the destination, it is totally about getting drunk with your friends on the journey there. In case you were wondering we ended up braving the weather and driving to Kingston from Toronto…our original flight continues to be delayed…
“Welcome to the O.N bitch!”
Urban Outfitter’s Mickey hat, J Crew tennis necklace, Chopard love and heart necklaces, Isabel Marant for H&M sweater and white leather pants, T by Alexander Wang stripped Tee, and Isabel Marant wedge boots
Like most of the non-sociopathic individuals on this earth, I love animals, like adore! So you can understand my predicament when I get rumbly in my tumbly and decide to eat mammal of some kind, how the whole situation becomes a bit of a conflict of interest. Theres vegans, pescatarians, I consider myself a hypocritical vegetarian, love em’ to death, but I wear em’ and eat em’. It’s obtuse I know, and in my twisted psyche i actually take it seriously. I refuse to eat lobster or shrimp because at the point of ingestion they maintain the same form as they once did when alive. Where am I going with this rant you ask? I love my snakeskin boots, and hate myself for loving them. Same thing goes for fur of course, but shit get’s even more serious when god’s creatures are fluffy. Animal cruelty is primal, disgusting and makes my skin crawl no pun intended…but If this beautiful reptile already lost its life, I will honour him by making sure those boots kill, pun intended, every ensemble they are a part of. I sold my soul for Tom Ford…and I swear I just feel awful about it.
I’ll stick to Stella McCartney’s vegan leathers next time