split

wearing Vince skirt, H&M peplum top, Chanel shoes

It's too bad these shoes feel like the vice grips of hell and leave deep lacerations in my soft ankle fat with their elastic, because they sure are purdy. 

slo

wearing vintage skirt, Madewell denim shirt, Topshop sandals, H&M necklace

I drove down to San Luis Obispo this weekend to visit one of my oldest friends who just got engaged. In between lots of ring oohhhing and ahhhing and debating the merits of matching vs. slightly different bridesmaids dresses, we also visited the estate they've picked out to get married next year--a charming property dotted with manzanita bushes and mismatched chandeliers hanging from the trees. It was the perfect location to debut this vivid striped skirt I found in a local thrift store a few weeks ago--and an awkward new signature pose. The Captain was here.

can i catch your eye, sir

Summer anthem. Calling it.

I dig this chick. She's like Foxy and Lil' Kim had some kind of genius baby.

la playa

1. Étoile Isabel Marant Hana Romper 2. J. Crew Hat 3. Tamron AF 28-75mm f/2.8 lens 4. Mih Jeans top 5. Laroche Posay Anthelios 50 Daily Anti-Aging primer 6. Immodium 7. Carven sandals 8. J. Brand shorts 9. Madewell straw beach bag 10. unknown sandals

In less than one month, I'll be sunning my flesh on the shores of the Mayan Riviera, sipping lethal margaritas by an ocean so warm and deeply azure, I would swear it's straight out of a postcard. I'm staying in Playa Del Carmen and Tulum, where I will partake (with extreme glee) in the following activities:

1. Snorkeling over a shipwreck 60 feet off shore
2. Exploring Mayan ruins
3. Swimming in limestone caverns that used to be places of human sacrifice (!!!)
4. Reading on the beach
5. Eating lobster tacos by the double fistful

And even though, let's be honest, I'll probably resemble a greasy drowned rat while schlopping through the humidity, let's suspend our disbelief for a second and pretend that I'm endowed with enough disposable income to have the outfits above on my packing list. Surely, if water that blue exists, it's possible for me to look decent in 4,000% humidity. Surely?

my father, the hero

I have my dad to thank for two things: my caterpillar eyebrows and my sense of humor. Well, actually that's a gross oversimplification. He also provided me with the perfect suburban childhood, an unabating love of Paul Simon, a healthy appetite for game birds, and all manner of luxurious creature comforts. In fact, when I come to visit my parents on Sundays, he still takes my car to get it washed (it's always filthy) and sometimes slips me a $20. I'm rather spoiled.

But who is Don Dorfman? He started life as the token Jewish kid among Scandinavians in Fargo, North Dakota. Yes, that Fargo. When he graduated high school, he hopped on a freight train and hitched a ride to Oregon, where he spent some time picking apples alongside migrant workers. Realizing the hobo life wasn't much of a permanent vocation, he attended the University of Michigan and Harvard Law School. Eventually, he ended up in San Francisco, where he met my mother and the rest, obviously, is all about me.

The pictures above are from his cross-country hobo journey on the back of a freight train, circa 1965. The pic on the bottom (my dad is the one in what looks like a white fur hat) is from Harvard, probably about 1970.

life, generally

ASOS dress, Derek Lam shoes, Colorblock Shop earring, vintage ring and necklace

My summer so far has been defined by frequent trips into Marin to avoid the fog, more online shopping than shopping at actual stores, Wardell's growing afro that elicits comments almost wherever we go, hanging with Kobe, finding sunny spots to read, a constant smell of self tanner hanging around my apartment, planning a trip to Tulum and Playa Del Carmen in July, and vowing not to spend any more money now that said travel has been planned and paid for. Restraint is key.

rich girl swag

wearing vintage Hermes scarf, L.L. Bean striped shirt, Zara pants, Belle by Sigerson Morrison flats, Gryphon trench

My parents were in France last month and since they spoil my ass on the regular, my mom brought me back a real deal vintage Hermes scarf. It was so authentic, it actually still smelled like old lady when I took it out of the box. Probably some fabulous old lady who smoked skinny cigarettes and liked to bring her lap dog to the theatre. Theatre with an 'e' obviously.

Since then I've been using it to WASP-ify simpler outfits. See? It works!