ANNARVITIELLO

WASH BAG / CLUTCH BAG

noreply@blogger.com (Anna Vitiello) — Mon, 11 Jun 2012 20:30:00 +0000

You just can't get the staff these days. Or else. I didn't have the foresight to pack a daytime clutch that could fit a recently purchased Nikon D3100. But - and to continue on this streak of positivity and spirituality - there are no problems, only solutions. (I still disagree with this statement as without problems, there would be no solutions. But whatever. It sounds nice and in this case, rings true.)

Funny, actually, how despite my meticulous packing and careful editing, I was able to exceed the weight limit by 8.5kg. That's almost a third of the total allowance. (That's what happens when you fly Monarch - you get what you pay for.) And what happens when you under pack? You over edit. And vice versa or one before the other. The egg and chicken etc.

But, where there's a will, there's a way and in this case, I found it. In the form of my boyfriend's wash bag (which, coincidentally, I bought him for Christmas.) I'm hardly the most bona fide fan of overtly labelled goods - unless it's wash bag - in which case it's acceptable. Which is why - and I do relish a pinch of irony - I found it remarkably whimsical that my debut outing with this monogrammed pouch would take place in a town of fake goods. (Needless to say, I passed many of its counterfeit siblings along the way - minus the gold leaf embossed initials.) I digress. The point of the story? If it's a lightweight, camera-holding pouch you're after, Gucci do a mean men's washbag complete with dual purpose and unisex appeal.

Wearing: Lace espadrilles - great ones here by Jeffrey Campbell. Gap tee and shorts.

CROSS BODY CRAVING

noreply@blogger.com (Anna Vitiello) — Sun, 10 Jun 2012 20:01:00 +0000

Rearward injuries, lopsided shoulders, laborious key searching... All valid reasons for which I have embarked on a resolute search for the beauty queen of shoulder bags. Auditioning categories include proportions (curvy essential - too small and it becomes useless), talent (hidden compartments hit judge's soft spots), bikini (must satisfy transeasonal needs) and question round (must be substance as well as beauty.) The opening rounds proved arduous but the end is in sight, my friends. Laugh if you will, but given the fairly hefty price tags - and yes, I do believe you get what you pay for - the thought process could be nothing short of meticulous. What would you score them?

Gucci shoulder bag. Givenchy Obsedia monochrome shoulder bag. YSL black shoulder bag. Chloe embellished shoulder bag.

A SUNNY/LESS DISPOSITION

noreply@blogger.com (Anna Vitiello) — Fri, 08 Jun 2012 09:57:00 +0000

Rhonda Byrne books, anyone? Learn how to be grateful come rain or shine? You can bet your bottom dollar that anyone giving thanks for London's uncharacteristic (yeah, right) monsoon season is lying to your innocent little face. The human cognitive system is designed to be naturally opposed to grey, dull, misery. I'd like to believe that we could - if we wanted to - condition our brains to be less opposed to our climate. We should be used to it, after all. But, truth is, it would be easier to jump ship and move elsewhere. Pressed for time - and funds, if I'm honest - I had to make do with a brightly coloured collage instead. Might I suggest ordering any one of these pieces via same day delivery to your current place of work/leisure/weather-induced-sulk could act as a catalyst to your own sunless yet sunny disposition.

Juliet and Company blue drop earrings. Marc by Marc Jacobs polka dot bag. Topshop patent bright courts. French Connection paisley shorts. Karen Walker sunnies. Dannijo bright necklace. Topshop bright mesh trainers. Clover Canyon printed top. ASOS metallic brocade clutch.

SNEAK PEEK

noreply@blogger.com (Anna Vitiello) — Thu, 07 Jun 2012 07:14:00 +0000

I've been away for a while. Yes, absent but from the blogosphere but also, literally. Sunglasses, woven clutch, vaguely visible table cloth, cobbles... Have you caught wind yet? Get your sails up. Greece! Well, holiday is what that mish mash of terminology was intended to connote. The beautiful fishing town of Agios Nikolaos is where I spent an achingly relaxing week perusing books on spirituality and the bitching world of Kelly Cutrone. (It aches even more now that I'm back in London town and I would usually insert a moan here, but the aforementioned spiritual books would advise that I be grateful for precipitation. Cleanse the soul etc.) Anyway, I give you a sneak peak of two of my favourite accessories that came on holiday with me. Miu Miu sunglasses and Zara clutch. (PS. if you've been following me on twitter, you'll know that I left these precious glasses on the plane. Absolutely heartbreak.)

FOR THE FRILL OF IT

noreply@blogger.com (Anna Vitiello) — Fri, 25 May 2012 07:45:00 +0000

I give you - fancy footsie frills. Viktor & Rolf ruffle. Feet candy. No, scrap that, eye candy. Yes this is friller, friller feet. How many more ruffles could one feasibly wish for? Not many, I declare with some conjecture. Am I right? No matter. Let's get back to basics. Speculate, if you will, why I have chosen to acquaint you, dear readers, with these majestic mules? Two reasons. 1) Rationalise with me again, if you will, as to whether or not they are worth the hefty price tag? 2) To introduce you to shoescribe, the genius asexual sibling of yoox.com. Not only do they offer an achingly exclusive conglomeration of foot candy but they proposition a service that goes above and beyond simple click and buy. I will leave you to peruse and discover at your own pace but please, please don't go and by them all. I'm saving up.

THREE'S COMPANY | OR IS IT?

noreply@blogger.com (Anna Vitiello) — Wed, 23 May 2012 09:42:00 +0000

In the spirit of summer, I have photographed sandals – just for you. Granted it's no pro jobbo but brought to you via the only necessary tool in contemporary photography: instagram. While Facebook shares might have fallen by £2.50 yesterday, instagram's hypothetical equivalents must be inflating at an aggressive rate. I digress. I give you – three is a crowd: my three flats for holiday. The method in the madness? Espadrilles for girlie days, silver flats for beachy trips and Balenciagas in anticipation of smarter day trips to elegant Grecian towns. The only three flats I need, as far as I can tell. So not so much a crowd but a well-balanced trio? From left to right: River Island espadrilles, Zara silver sandals, Balenciaga cream sandals (similar here.)

DETOXIFY YOURSELF

noreply@blogger.com (Anna Vitiello) — Sun, 20 May 2012 18:47:00 +0000

~~This is no longer a fashion blog, but an ode to health and wellbeing.~~ Relish this post as it is a breed most likely born to die; I give you the preliminary detox post and approximately 8.5 days before that damned two piece replaces hefty knitwear. Shudder. Tremble. Drat. The last time I 'detoxed' was days before the ELLE Style Awards, at the end of which I ended up in an empty red-carpeted room with the kind paramedic man feeding me a shrivelled up excuse for Pizza Express. Well, what more to expect when you combine amateur dieting with commotion, emotion and interviewing celebs. ~~Idiot.~~ I digress. I will be trying my hand at the Detox Kitchen programme for no less that five days. Fingers crossed that my review will be more oh I'm so glowing than paramedics and shrivelled pizza.

BRING THE BLING

noreply@blogger.com (Anna Vitiello) — Fri, 18 May 2012 18:50:00 +0000

I swore on Prada that I'd never wear cap. And yet, it was at the H&M press day that hypothetical fingers were clicked and cross-country borders were crossed. Yes, it's a cap and yes, Prada means more to me than to dismissively and so brashly break fashionable promises. BUT, and this is a big but, this one felt different. It changed my life. It was the one. Visions of obligatory approving nods at the upcoming menswear fashion week prompted a cognitive contract to buy. A contract between myself and, well, myself, essentially. My new ethos? If you're going to do it, do it bling.

Cap by H&M. Jacket by Zara. Black vest from James Perse.

FLAT OUT

noreply@blogger.com (Anna Vitiello) — Tue, 15 May 2012 16:41:00 +0000

Bikini and bare midriff are not the kind of words I am interested in hearing, no. Sandals and opaque kaftans? Ah yes yes yes. Justification, I say, for my disregard for bikini shopping and considerably heightened interest in any other associated product that falls under 'beachwear'. My own fault, as it is every year, that I posses palpable dieting incompetence. Give me a concealing one piece over a junk food ban any day.

Behold, instead, a mash-up-conglomeration-mess of flats, one of which will be joining my already-purchased Balenciaga sandals on a sandy beach in just a tick. Visions of Samantha Jones in a bikini and heels had previously journeyed through the cognitive tunnel that is my brain but with many a dead end route, these thoughts have been lost indefinitely – technical difficulties. Instead, I'm sticking to a centimetre heel or lower, preferring to seem short and stubby over tall and glam but voted most likely to trip up and fall in the pull due to inappropriate footwear. Now to choose between the above. A task none the easier given that my inability to make decisions could fiercely rival if not totally dampen the triumphant lowliness of the aforementioned dieting issue.

Lanvin denim espadrilles. Pierre Hardy orange and blue suede sandals. Gucci emerald green sandals. Marni yellow paillette sandals. Topshop zebra print espadrilles. Joie black and raffia sandals.

CHAIN REACTION | CHARLOTTE'S CELINE

noreply@blogger.com (Anna Vitiello) — Sun, 13 May 2012 09:43:00 +0000

The devil is in the detail, or so they say. But that was just an introduction to the detail in this, Charlotte's divine dedication to exposing the chains of Celine. Now, the incurious eye would presumably leave it at jeans and pumps - the obvious. The inquisitive mind? Well, the inquisitive mind would note that the leg of the jean cuts off at the unequivocal visual feast that are the chains of these, her resplendent Celine pumps. Dually note that contrary to popular practise, the jeans are not strategically folded, cuffed or cropped to fit purpose. Oh no, not these, they just fall there.

THE A-R-V WEARS PRADA

noreply@blogger.com (Anna Vitiello) — Thu, 10 May 2012 09:01:00 +0000

Is it cold? Is it warm? Is it November? Who knows anymore. It's May and we have tornados. (Well, by we, I mean Oxfordshire, was it?) Now, I'm the last to condone a five-hour morning routine but then, when my iPhone weather app suggests sunny spells but the view from my window screams rainforest, sartorial decisions can often prove somewhat challenging (a fact underpinned by the conglomeration of crumpled knitwear and creased hosiery scattered around the grounds that were once my bedroom.) Anyway, here I am wearing my new favourite J.Crew jumper from the outnet - I won't disclose the discount but I will say, bargainista fashionista. Worn with a vintage skirt, Y3 coat and Prada sandals.

SEQUINSPIRATIONS AND SORRIES

noreply@blogger.com (Anna Vitiello) — Wed, 09 May 2012 09:25:00 +0000

Hello, is it me you're looking for? Well, honey, I'm home and I have something to confess: I've been cheating on you with full-time work. I'm sorry, you have to believe me. But I've thought about ANNARVITIELLO the whole time, I swear. And I'll change, I swear again. I'll change my face, I'll change my name, I'll get myself together, you'll see. In one week. But for now, accept my sincere apologies with some sequinspiration: my vintage Faliero Sarti scarf (left round sequins) and this beautiful Nicole Farhi skirt.

MORE OF THAT PLEASE, VIKA

noreply@blogger.com (Anna Vitiello) — Sun, 06 May 2012 16:12:00 +0000

Be bold. Be vivid. Be you. Said the Dalai Lama. And he was right. But every so often - somewhere between a sweet falafel sandwich and dark chocolate rice cakes - I wonder what it would be like to be Vika Gazinskaya. Smart, sassy and the super-brain behind her eponymous label (and a favourite of Tommy Ton aka representative of street style photographers everywhere.) And sure, she's cooler than an ice cube as a single entity but as the laws of gravity would dictate, the most fabulous Miroslava Duma is her best friend (first picture, on the left.) GREEDY, I tell you - two pillars of eccentric Russian-ness in one best-friendship. Leave some for the rest of us?

Photos from Backseatstylers.com, Borninflames.com, Style.com and Vogue.co.uk.

INSPIRE TRANSPIRE

noreply@blogger.com (Anna Vitiello) — Fri, 04 May 2012 19:14:00 +0000

For a Friday night: yielding home truths. Some say it best when they say nothing at all. I, on the right hand, say it best when I say a lot, or so I like to think. I'm a real talker; I was born with opinion in excessive measure, much to the dismay of many a soul, I'd imagine. Talking is what I do best. I would leave you to peruse three of my favourite looks from AW12 but my Friday night would subsequently be plagued by trepidation and anguish at the eventuality that there could be some kind of misconception re: what exactly inspires me about the Prada, Louis Vuitton and Marni collections. Don't tell me, I'm too cool.

I refer to these collections with affliction as more specifically, it is the dialogue between pattern, brocade and the amalgamations of heavily embellished Louis Vuitton that ring true with zia matta; my right hand (wo)man. That is, mad aunt. I have ~~a fixation~~ a penchant, shall we call it, for fabrics of considerable substance and monumental weight, heavy enough to render tip-toeing the most laborious of tasks. I'm still betwixt and between about that dip dyed hair though, Ginta Lapina. But heck, if anyone is going to gratify the validity of an amber wig beneath blonde locks, it's Ginta. And to conclude, a footnote if you will, I acquiescently dedicate this post to my darling friend Jennifer; I hereby affirm that the zia matta has well and truly materialised.

FOR THE FRILL OF IT

noreply@blogger.com (Anna Vitiello) — Wed, 02 May 2012 10:58:00 +0000

A-R-V LOVES | PEPLUMS. There. That was the real title. But I changed it for fear that one's vision would incandescently ricochet off the word peplum causing an impetuous close-this-window-immediately reflex. Now are you going to press the X on this tab? NO! Don't! Come on now, friends, give these questionable gathered waistlines a chance, won't you? So, why an impromptu post on our frilly friends, you ask? Good question. Because having spent a good portion of my 24 little hours researching peplums yesterday, it occurred to me that I should share my cogitations and subsequent ~~foregone~~ conclusions with you, dear readers.

Appertaining to the above, I will divulge only a single morsel of vital information to you; one of these is high street, the others are a little more, ahem, swank, should I say. Can you guess which one? Can you?! I think you can. Go on, give it a go. No? Still nothing? Ok, well in which case, here comes the big reveal drum roll please: it's number five of five. Yes, people, it's from Oasis. (As for the others, check the closing credits.) Your point? you will be asking as you ponder this childish submersion of questions. PEE, remember. One of the many conclusions I have come to on this preeminent matter is that it's gotta be a good'un, and it just so happens that the good'uns that I have found are flying off the richter scale in ways that are ambiguous as well as numerous numerous. The cryptic code to success lies in the cut and the material; it's got to be good quality; it has got to fit you well. If it doesn't, you run the unfortunate risk of looking like a hapless, destitute fashionista with a disagreeable pulled thread or two around your waistline which, coincidentally, is very unbecoming of a woman. So, back to my point, as a rule of thumb, if you are spending a tenner on the thing then the truth is that you'll probably fall into the unfortunate hapless crew. Truth hurts.

However, (this feels like saying but in a break-up, sob!) the saving grace is that no matter what you wear, the prevailing factor is the fit; does it flatter? If so, then storm up to the cash desk and hand over that AMEX, dammit. If you're shopping online, then his green long sleeve version from Alice and Olivia is wearable and purse friendly. This cream sleeveless version from Mint Velvet give you a sleeveless option and is perfect for layering. Should your bank balance (or, ahem, credit card even) allow then this white layered number from Miu Miu is decorously girly and yet strikingly cool.

Thakoon lily printed peplum top. Mulberry cream peplum top. Vera Wang strapless peplum corset. Oasis broderie Anglaise peplum top. Giambattista Valli leopard print peplum top.

ALL WHITE | BUT NOT QUITE

noreply@blogger.com (Anna Vitiello) — Mon, 30 Apr 2012 17:07:00 +0000

My gym shorts, I love them. They come complete with side chasm and internally hidden granny pants. Gym, printed, green, chasms, granny, Nike. Cherish. Treasure. But alas, in every sentence typifying the PEE sentence structure, (that's point, evidence, explanation, not a dismissive toilet break) therein will lie an operative word. GYM. Cherish, yes. Wear for purposes exclusive of sweat-enducing glute-destroying inhuman movement? By golly, no.

And then.

Sport luxe. Vom. Gym shorts, but not in the gym? Vom again. By no means have I ever considered myself a member of the sport luxe tribe; I look as out of place in a wedged trainer as a kangaroo in a pet shop, all pouch-bearing and predatory locomotion. (Have you ever seen the way they move, by the way? Suffice to say that I run forest, run.) Repel is what we do; two components producing intrinsic repelling force. I put wedged trainers on and the jeans follow, after which the unsuitability of the whole outfit to my sartorial soul begins to snowball out of control.

But then.

SS12 threw us a tricky trend: the white out. White white white white white. Can't get enough of it. Cue unnerving images rising from the hidden banks of the subconscious - flared white jeans circa 1998. Delete. Start again. Cue, instead, beautiful sequin chiffon dress from Helmut Lang. It's quite sporty, no? Ah, not so bad. And so, I experimented further, drifting further from the borders of my comfort zone, feeding white and sport into my wardrobe via intravenous liquid substance: cue a waterproof hooded jacket and some Wang. The yellow? Well, you didn't expect me to go all-white all-weady? Steady on. A little quirk goes a long way.

White sport luxe plastic parka from Topshop. Black and white dress from Helmut Lang at net-a-porter.com. Emile tote by Alexander Wang. Offbeat yellow shoes from Carvela.

OBSESSING | PRABAL GURUNG

noreply@blogger.com (Anna Vitiello) — Sun, 29 Apr 2012 18:39:00 +0000

In between chauffering patients from unnerving eye procedures to more agreeable corners of the world and spending more hours than one should care to muster on the dispiriting lengths of the British motorway, I've been somewhat of an excuse for a blogger this weekend, really. No, really, you don't have to be kind; it's the truth. For this palpable disregard for you, my readers, I can only express my most forthright sorry-ness at a regrettable lack of posting. ANNARVITIELLO will be back in full force tomorrow. But for now, I leave you with number one on my holiday lust-list, these Prabal Gurung shorts. Various superhuman cognitive powers had enabled me to envisage these beauties with my new Balenciaga sandals eons ago. But as I inch ever closer to raising the necessary funds that will eventually entitle me to ownership, the lust is emerging at an alarming rate - somewhere between a sloth and a phoenix. To tell you the truth - friends don't keep secrets, do they (can I call you friends, friends?) - I have broken many a commandment. But it is the fourth (fourth, was it?) commandment re: coveting other's possessions that I break most often. I want the whole collection.

A-R-V DOES | DENIM FAIL

noreply@blogger.com (Anna Vitiello) — Thu, 26 Apr 2012 11:32:00 +0000

I was going to call this one dressed down. But, alas, denim fail prevails. The following images speak volumes re: my persistently futile attempts at dressing down. Where I'm going wrong, I don't know. Perhaps it is my own palpably clouded if not full blown fabricated definition of the phrase that throws my attempts to the very borders of incompetence. While we're on the subject of formalities, I will look to the bible of the spoken work, the dictionary, to shed some light on the issue of my own informalities. As dressed down can't be looked up, I'll take casual as its next of kin.

Casual. n. suited for everyday use; informal

Casual (according to the dictionary edition ARV published 2012) n. suited for everyday use and other improbable eventualities such as meeting the Queen; bling necklaces allowed

In defiance of a penchant for denim (not to mention a hefty collection comprised of something like 25 pairs of jeans) the Donna Ida in me refuses to shine. Donna Ida, if you're reading, where oh where did I leave my denim mojo? Let's start with the fact that you're wearing a badly drawn reproduction of the Eiffel Tower all over your chest, she might start. Let's also draw attention to that piece of bla-bla-bla-bling around your collar bone that can only have left it bruised, not to mention 'did I tell you Betty from the Bronx called? she wants her bling back.' Ok, ok, I get your point, I would reply. And take my heavy heart to the flatscreen where a lesson in denim dos can be taken from season four, episode 3. Take it away, Carrie Bradshaw.

Sunglasses by Versace but some very similar ones here by Selima Optique. Best quality jeans I've ever worn by Hudson (pricey, but good'uns last you a lifetime.) Jacket by Zara. Betty's bling by Mikey. The most perfect white shirt by Boutique by Jaeger. Jumper by Topshop. Oh, and converse, naturally.

A-R-V | IS CHANGING

noreply@blogger.com (Anna Vitiello) — Tue, 24 Apr 2012 14:27:00 +0000

Ch-ch-ch-changes are happening around here. Well, they haven't happened - or begun, for that matter - just yet. But they will. You'd better believe it. First up, a new banner, because as much as I enjoy the idiosyncrasy of myself laughing at myself's counterpart (I know that's terrible English for which I can only express my sincerest apologies) I think it's time for a ch-ch-change up; because, y'all, it's always time to keep it fresh, homie. Cruel, some might say, to a banner that has scarcely reached the age of a young fledgling. No fear, my friends, for I am of the loyal brigade and such impropriety is uncharacteristic and far from representative of my mental wellbeing. But all will become clearer as the changes go on. So, back to the banner, the left me is to be gingerly replaced by the devil on my shoulder - quirk. I recently added the strap line 'Sartorial mumbles of a quirdylike' to my banner, explaining that the term 'quirdy' represents the two sides to my sartorial soul, as it were; quirk and lady. (Five bucks for the first person to guess what the laughing me on the right is going to be replaced by.) In any case, I've been back and forth between many a quirky item and can now 'leak' the low-down on what to expect. Behold, the quirk.

Karen Walker sunnies. Marc by Marc Jacobs clutch. Topshop gradient floral trousers. Meadham Kirchhoff Feather Jacket. Miu Miu puffball skirt. Emanuel Ungaro sequin dress. Miu Miu white and gold booties. House of Harlow leopard sunglasses. Marni black and gold embellished top.

A-R-V DOES | GIAMBATTISTA VALLI

noreply@blogger.com (Anna Vitiello) — Mon, 23 Apr 2012 10:12:00 +0000

I wasn't entirely sure whether to call this one Giambattista Valli or Stop being so serious, fool! The latter was somewhat overcompensating in length for what it lacked in substance; a shift in balance which resulted in the former lifting the silverware. Well, that and the fact that I am searching for some unequivocal answer to whatever unspecified question is causing my expression to be plagued by mindful meditation. Serious.

I like to call this dress The Red Carpet. In fact, I could do with a red carpet occasion to which I could sport this fluffy beefcake. What you can't see in these images is that this ball of joy reaches below the depths of my knobbly knees, past my bony ankles and falls a few inches flat from my un-pedicured talons. A waterfall of unequivocal beauty. Of breath-taking proportions. Of insurmountable impracticality.

Not what you want from a dress worth an almost incomprehensible five-triple-zero bucks. You'd have to wear it approximately five hundred times for it to retain any strategical purchase value according to the PPW (price-per-wear) theory. And, if you tally up the total sum of events to which I have brandished this exquisite piece of wool - zero - you'd shudder at the very cognition. Mercifully, I got myself quite a bargain rendering the PPW somewhat easier to swallow than if I'd have bought it in season.

See some of this season's best Giambattista Valli pieces online here.

A-R-V ATTENDS | GLASSWORKS PARTY

noreply@blogger.com (Anna Vitiello) — Fri, 20 Apr 2012 12:25:00 +0000

You grow and you grow and you grow and yet! baby hairs refuse to cofunction. That's a widely accepted turn of phrase, isn't it? Baby hairs? No? Stay with me, for my palpable dislike for the said little posse of runted head hairs will translate into a strong dislike that is altogether comprehensible in the following imagery (the second photo in particular.) Anyway, last night, Glassworks Studios got together with rewardStyle to co-host an event for bloggers at their pop-up shop in Covent Garden. I'm not much of a goer-outer myself but rather, I advocate a life of sangfroid, overindulgence and a copious amount of ~~highbrow~~ TV. But canapes, drinks and shopping? Suits me, sir.

Specimen A: Photo with the lovely Colleen of rewardStyle. I'm wearing Topshop coat, Manolo Blanhik shoes.

See them, just there to the right of my head, imposing their beleaguering mess on what could have otherwise been a perfectly commendable photo? Baby hairs. I can only think of one scenario to which this acrimony could be likened. Anyone like Friends? Of course you do. The one with the yams and Brad Pitt. If you are yet to sit through that half an hour of pure bliss, then get acquainted.

Specimen B. Wearing Marni x H&M brocade top, Mulberry skirt, Manolo Blanhik shoes.

Is that me? I can't see. Can you see? Oh yes, there I am, sorry. Just that it was hard to see for a minute there through the forest of baby hairs. Heck, I may as well have posted a picture of some damned baby hairs instead. And I would have. Had it not been for the kind reminder that this is a fashion - not hair - blog.

Specimen C. The consequences of haphazardly dropping a bucket of bleach on your hair. Also known as the fit model. Part of the evening involved picking items from the store and styling them on this lovely leggy blonde. This is my interpretation of a floral-wearing bow-tie sporting wizard. You miss the detail on this perfect Paper London shirt but heck, she looks good, doesn't she? You can vote - or not, if you're impartial - on facebook by 'liking' this look here.

HOW TO WEAR | POLKA DOTS

noreply@blogger.com (Anna Vitiello) — Thu, 19 Apr 2012 14:08:00 +0000

Behold, a flame has been reignited. Don't try to blow it out, you'll only run out of breath. You may now call me Anna R polka-dot-Vitiello, pioneer of double hyphenated surnames and polka dot obsessive. Granted, the levels of which I speak aren't yet on par with my floral infatuation - yet - but it is exactly this palpable lack of regard that has elicited such intoxicating guilt forcibly inaugurating a search for lost love. Mercifully, these Giorgio Armani trousers were an instantaneous shot of amore rendering a hefty task much lighter than expected. And yes, you might notice that no love has been lost between these Miu Mius and I. I'm just saving up.

PS remember when glitter was reserved for under 12's? Thank Miuccia for Prada.

Those Miu Miu sunglasses. Tory Burch embroidered jacket. Marc by Marc Jacobs peplum top. BCBG beaded clutch. Giorgio Armani silk polka dot shorts. Topshop glitter heels.

SHOPPING | ALL QUIRK

noreply@blogger.com (Anna Vitiello) — Tue, 17 Apr 2012 19:24:00 +0000

Last night I was struck by a moment of unadulterated revelation - something was missing from my banner; something telling; some substance of the most veracious, sincere kind. More sincere than my own name and laughing face plastered across my blog? Yes. My banner felt bereft of personality, quite probably because I have had to stare at the damn thing many more times than I care to admit. Well, that was counterproductive - drat. But alas, the light bulb flashed at around 10.47pm when I came to realise that the simple solution was to affix a succint descriptive sentence that would bear the welcoming of my soul.

And at that it appeared, between the hoopla of my laughing faces. Sartorial mumbles of a quirdylike. Pretty self-explanatory, for the most part. But quirdylike? Well, now, that's a term I've coined to explain the fierce battle between the quirk and the lady in me. Current winner? 40% quirk, 60% lady, as demonstrated nicely by this Religion bow; feminine yet a little strange? A palpable movement in favour of dainty heels and waist-defining skirts represents a recent shift in mood - maturing, one might explain - the thought of which sends polka-dots of the Marni kind coursing through my veins. I don't want to mature! Forever 21.

The solution? A collage comprised of 100% quirk. I've flirted with grunge, salsa danced with minimal but the strongest outcome will prevail; I was destined to be a mad Italian Aunt. Ergo, I must persevere. Here, here now. Don't feel bad for me - I am insidiously galvanised by the thought. Now, all that's left to do is stock up on all of the above - in particular these Miu Miu sunglasses which can be worn from the offset - and to have a little left over for 7 slightly tatty cats and a second-hand rocking chair.

Oscar de la Renta beaded necklace. Miu Miu Cat-Eye sunglasses. Marni wood platforms. Topshop perspex heels. ASOS weave holdall. Diane Von Furstenburg tote. Kurt Geiger yellow perspex pouch. Religion embellished bow brooch.

A-R-V DOES | FLORAL

noreply@blogger.com (Anna Vitiello) — Mon, 16 Apr 2012 12:05:00 +0000

Tempted as I am to voice the obligatory oh florals! for summer! groundbreaking! trend-recycling wisecracks, I have resolved to abstain from stating the banal and obvious. Why? Because despite having resigned myself to seeing out a good proportion of my existence in truthful conduct, I would rather fill my posts with yay! florals! optimism! than to plague my odes to seasonal trends with wanton dissection and subsequent red-faced hypocrisy. Because, after all, isn't summer all about the joy! sun! happiness! Let's revel in solar optimism together. Rather, I will share with you my wisdom and insight and would be indebted to you, as my readers, eternally, if you would benevolently footnote my posts, if you will. All that really means is that if my ass looks big and I should have bought these trousers in a size up, tell me. I don't bite. But anyway, I'll zip my trap and let Ben's photography do the talking, for once.

Top: Zara Bra (just because it has imposed its barefaced presence): Elle MacPherson Intimates Trousers: Zara Ring: Alexis Bittar Sunglasses: DVF Shoes: Marc Jacobs

A-R-V LOVES | A LITTLE HONESTY

noreply@blogger.com (Anna Vitiello) — Sun, 15 Apr 2012 17:38:00 +0000

I need to stop spending. I will stop spending. Quote. Unquote. Lie. Unlie. I never used to believe in the tale of Pinocchio no matter how determined my deeply rooted Italian father tried to illustrate its validity by affectionately yanking at my nose. And yet, as a self-proclaimed sometime philanthropist with strong views on the subject of natural beauty etc. etc., it is here, now, at 20-something years of age that I find myself pondering the hypothetical level of dissimilarity that would be evident in my profile should I not have five-finger discounted that Barbie notepad from Woolworths all those golden years ago. (I haven't stolen since, mind you, having subsequently been caught out by my mother and made to return, as well as apologise, to the lovely lady at the till. And I was very, very sorry.)

So, lie no more I will. Quote. Unquote. And again. Until the next time I profess my determination to shake any fashion girl broke but who cares 'cos I look good stereotype-associations. And so, behold, a moment of true, dignified and harmonious honesty. I would like to buy this dress. I am captivated by the sparkle; enthralled by the glitter. Justification comes courtesy of SS12's penchant for all things crafted and embellished - even though I can't really afford it. And yet, I am going to have this in my wardrobe. And I'm not even sorry.

Dress, £335, By Malene Birger at My-Wardrobe.com