Jumper, Peter Pilotto for Target; Skirt, ASOS; Shoes, J.W. Anderson for Topshop; Watch, Guess.
Every year, the weather turns right around mid-September and my heart leaps. For the fashion world once again jumps on the bandwagon I am pretty much the year-round driver of – leather love. I am hardly the poster girl for biker chic, but there is a secret, tattooed part of my soul that simply dies for the soft buttery feel of a good calfskin. <!–more–> At any one time, there are likely to be at least two leather items on my person, not including shoes. And PU for me will always be the first two letters of the phrase: “PUt down that faux monstrosity!” And so to today, and my leather skirt. It seems that not even the soaring temperatures of the Gulf can come between me and my mini, and I’ll be damned if anyone tells me that silver leather is “inappropriate” for the office. I mean, what is this – the 1950s?! No, good sir, it is 1968. And I am Barbarella.