Monday, April 23, 2012

I Would Kill to Be Your Clothes, Cling to your Body and Hang from your Bones

 After a weekend in East London I knew I had to dedicate a post to the parade of sass and fashion that I witnessed in just a matter of minutes on Brick Lane and Shoreditch. I did not snap nearly enough pictures but I remain enthralled by the chavvy, ghetto-fab style so unashamedly put on display by so many East London girls.  I could not shake the feeling that these girls - with their wayward attitudes and an ineffable sense of solidarity - were onto something. And, of course, I admire anyone who embraces style with a wink.  

Overalls hang languidly over a tiny camisole but the whole thing is brought to life by the kaleidoscope of florals in her silk scarf. And a pop of colour with her mandarin-red lips. 

I, for one, was completely mesmerized by the assumed matriarch of the group. With her glowing tan that puts the grey London skies to shame, some tarty sixties flair, and her jet-black hair in a sleek updo, I knew this was not a woman to mess with. A jersey dress in an exuberant print, adorned with a thick golden chain and baubles, and a malachite green cardigan. Pile on some candy-hued bangles for an added pop. 

Any girl who rocks the bun is fine with me, and this girl ties it all together with a thinly braided sky-blue headband. She keeps the waistline of her cerulean blue romper accessorized with a blood-orange belt. 


Cotton-candy pink hair and some sexy thigh-scraper stockings.

Tulle for Fools.

Dalston Vintage. 

Stephen always has that perfect insouciance which can only be reflected through effortless layers. A classic white tee, a checkered button-up, a weightless hoodie, and a thick knit jumper to keep warm. A worn leather belt and some casual lace-ups perfect this brooding disposition that only some guys can convincingly pull off.

All photos by Devon Peck

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