Fashion Archives

Blue Is a State of Mind, all day – every day

???

Having a job in fashion myself, I suppose clothes do make the man. It is my job for fashion to be top-of-mind and for my closet to demonstrate this accordingly, after all. There is, however, a lot to consider in fashion. Styles, cuts, and colors are just a few examples that don’t even begin to delineate the many options one must choose between. In an effort to simplify my life and lessen my own daily decision fatigue, I decided long ago to strip down my closet to just one shade: blues.

Here you’ll see a photo of me at Ken and Joey’s wedding reception in Austin, Texas almost eight years ago. My outfit that day was no exception to my uniform blue color. A beautiful day and an even more beautiful wedding, it was held on the campus of a small art college and sculpture garden. I was at the reception, in an Italian-style villa, when I noticed that at the back of the home there was this profuse, lush greenery. Everything was so striking, I felt compelled to, using the greenery as a backdrop, take a moment and pose for a photo to commemorate the happy day, my chosen wedding outfit, and my blue state of mind.

Throwback my fav Thanaz 0073J, Bastonata Weather Wash

???⚡️

With fast fashion currently on the rise, the quality of clothes has undeniably declined. Shirts rip easily, shoes do not last, and nice jeans are hard come by. I have some decent denim in my closet, but nothing could ever compare to my pair of Diesel Thanaz. They are my most prized pair and I got them when I worked for Diesel years ago.

During my time as a Diesel employee, Thanaz jeans were the most popular skinny-fit style and sold out everywhere! This pair has a ‘Bastonata’ wash, which means they were beaten with a stick to achieve a weathered look. I have kept these Thanaz jeans in my “archive” for years and have remained in great condition. They just do not make clothes like this anymore!

Gucci Donald Duck Bday gift to myself

???

I have been collecting Donald Duck memorabilia for a long time. My approach to collecting shifted about 5-6 years ago when I decided to start decreasing my consumerism and environmental impact. A big change happened within my wardrobe. I started to simplify the items in my closet and vowed to only wear blue.

I began to only hunt for Donald Duck themed apparel so my collecting could align within my new buying habits. This shoe was the perfect birthday present to myself. The sneakers fit well and the design is adorable. It feels great to have Donald Duck back into my life!

Boo Bitches (the dog kind), Dyson is a Dragon

???

I never really put dog clothing on Dyson. However, his grandparents got him a Halloween costume this year, and I could not pass up the opportunity. He was going to be a dragon.

Dyson looked great in the costume. Although he was dressed as a ferocious, fire-breathing creature, he looked cute as ever. I am glad that his grandparents got him such an adorable outfit.

He loved posing in his little dragoon costume although he had trouble negotiating two tails.

My new snazzy sweater

There’s something quietly thrilling about a new sweater—like stepping into a slightly different version of yourself.

This one is snazzy in the way good winter things are: soft, sturdy, and a little unexpected. The knit is thick and pale, scattered with blue like weather moving in over an empty field. It doesn’t try too hard, which is exactly why it works. The kind of piece you throw on without thinking, and then later realize you’ve been wearing all day because it feels like a small shelter.

I caught myself looking down at it and smiling. Not because it’s “new clothes” new, but because it carries that calm, settled feeling—like something that can live alongside you. Like the familiar creak of boards in an old house, or the way winter air changes everything into a softer version of itself.

There’s no big story here, just a simple upgrade to the everyday: cuffs rolled, collar peeking out, the world a little brighter and bigger for an afternoon. Sometimes that’s enough.

If you’ve ever had a piece of clothing turn into a season—something you reach for when the light gets thin—then you know exactly what I mean.

A Pilgrimage for the Almighty Monthly Metro-card

In the elevator’s mirror, the city folds in on itself.

The patterned screen between me and my own reflection turns a simple selfie into a kind of stained glass: a hooded outline, a face half-found, the light flattened into warm, tired amber. The subway has a way of doing that—taking whatever you bring down with you and translating it into something quieter, more private.

Somewhere above, the day is moving without me. Down here, it’s all small rituals. Waiting. Listening. Holding a plastic card that decides how far you can go and how long you can linger between places.

A monthly MetroCard is such a strange little promise: unlimited movement, but only within the same familiar corridors. It becomes a talisman you check and re-check, as if losing it would mean losing the map of your own routines. You tap, you ride, you climb the stairs, you find the elevator when your legs or your patience ask for mercy.

Calling it a pilgrimage feels almost honest. Not because it’s holy, but because it’s repeated. Because it asks you to keep showing up—descending into the same tiled tunnels, trusting the same rattling doors, letting the city carry you even when you’re not sure what you’re heading toward.

And in the mirrored hush between floors, you catch yourself and think: I’m still here. Still moving.

That Club Life

There’s a certain quiet choreography to a good store display—the way it asks you to slow down without ever saying so. In this corner, denim folds into softer knits, blues leaning into gray, as if the whole scene is trying to be useful rather than loud.

Two mannequins stand guard in the back, dressed in the kind of layers you reach for when the day can’t decide what season it is. A shirt-jacket, a dark crewneck, easy pants. Nothing pleading for attention, everything hinting at a life outside the fitting room.

On the table, the details do the talking: neatly stacked jeans, low sneakers ready for miles, small accessories arranged like the calm aftermath of someone getting ready with time to spare. Even the glass cases feel like a pause—space for the everyday objects that become oddly personal once you wear them long enough.

That’s what I keep thinking about with “That Club Life.” Not velvet ropes or bright lights, but the quieter membership: the club of people who like their clothes to hold up, to fit into real routines, to look better the more they’re lived in.

Maybe that’s the point. Among the polished shelves and careful lighting, you can still sense the ordinary world pressing in—cold air outside, errands waiting, a familiar walk home. And somehow, that makes the whole scene feel more human.