It’s not often that I have an opportunity abandon my trusted San Francisco uniform of a a black zip-up hoodie over a simple black dress, paired with black tights and (oh yeah) black suede chelsea boots. Did I mention I carry a black leather tote? I have even been known to sport a black beret (no shame) on occasion. If wearing black lipstick were acceptable by professional standards, I might do that too, but 5 out of 7 days a week I opt for red. Clearly, it’s pretty much the perfect outfit for every day, so why would I want to fuck with that that?
[Daytime revelry at the Ace.]
Here’s why: Because last weekend I found myself in Palm Springs, and you just DON’T DO the minimalist, all-black urban ensemble in Palm Springs. Suede and leather aren’t such “no-brainer” choices when you’re in 90 degree weather.
So I stepped up my game. But how does an SF chick adapt for Palm Springs without accidentally stumbling into the gross territories of bohemian festival wear, the resort-chic look, or Los Angeles club gear?
See my actual Palm Springs looks below, and learn.
1. Friday night- This was actually my driving-for-seven-hours outfit. It’s like normal me, but for warm weather. Shitty old tee, extremely faded black denim mini, and I swapped my tights for thigh-highs. Still rocking my black leather converse. And giant Tecate.
2. Look! It’s me, in pale yellow, lace, pink lipstick, and *gasp* NO TIGHTS. I’ve kind of always had this dress in my closet. I don’t know where it came from, and I wear it about once every year. People freak every time. I also swapped my huge black tote for a vintage handbag I got in Albuquerque, and of course, every woman needs a pair of Swedish Hasbeens. Except, psych, mine aren’t Hasbeens. They’re by Lotta from Stockholm, who makes just-as-amazing clogs from natural materials sourced in Scandinavia, but they’re like, half the price of Hasbeens.
3. Taking this look from the hotel to the Palm Springs Art Museum. (More on the museum soon.)
4. Swimwear. Ugh. Everything sucks. The beach, the pool, “laying out” or whatever the hell… this is not my scene. Half of why I moved away from southern California was to escape that culture, but you know, it’s not always THAT BAD. Particularly when I have a mojito and a copy of The Secret Diary of Laura Palmer to keep me company. I managed to stand out from the crowd of long-haired, tan, 21-year-olds sporting bedazzled bikinis in colors like coral and lilac by… basically being myself. Embracing my pale skin, nowhere-near-“beachy,” locks, and curvy figure, I rocked the shit out of that poolside chaise-thing in this suit.
5. Secret that I don’t need to keep a secret: I buy all of my dresses from ONE store in San Francisco. It’s called Nooworks, and they are basically the greatest thing ever. The shop is a few blocks from my house, the girls there are the coolest chicks you will EVER meet on Valencia St., and all of their prints are 100% unique, designed by contemporary artists and translated into amazing dresses. I literally have like 8 pieces from this RAD, woman-owned company. For Saturday night at the Viceroy, I rocked my Nooworks dress with insane neon Maison Martin Margielas that I won from the always-wonderful Tomboy Style.
There you have it. I went to Palm Springs, and I didn’t explode and turn into a hippie-sorority-girl hybrid.
Finally, here is what I’ll wear next time, you know, when I’m rich and can totally afford $2000+ dresses.
PS- THANK GOD X 100 that I didn’t accidentally end up in Palm Springs the weekend of Coachella.