Amy Davis
O n one of my many walks through this most glitter-dusted, technicolor city, it occurred to me that something intangible was getting me down. That gnawing, omnipresent feeling you get when the party is long over and you are hanging around in the kitchen listening to the hum of the fridge. The pastel dawn is breaking and casting a cold and grim light into your head, your makeup takes on a sickly pallor, you look like hell and you feel worse. It might just be lack of electrolytes and that pineapple pizza at 3 am, but it might be something more.
What do you do when you realize the fun has left the building? What do you do to regain your balance, your innocence? I say go on a killing spree! I decided then and there to commit technocide and, after a decade of likes and pokes I did it—I killed my Facebook.
I promptly fell into a giddy, buzzy elation of sweet relief followed a few hours later by guilt-ridden angst and tummy-churning withdrawal.
Amy Davis
I am obviously a huge egomaniac and quite proud of this, but even lil' vain ol' moi had gotten energetically sapped. It's a sticky dusty Pandora's box and frankly, sometimes letting go is the right MO.
With winter nudging us in the tuchus to bundle up, buy some crackly, sweet piñon and bask in the warm glow of farolitos over mouth-melting bowls of green chile stew, we must slow down and give and take strong hugs from friends without any thoughts of the digital blue thumbs-up.
When winter fades us out, embrace color and florals and blossomy embellishments. It's a sign that even when it's bleak outside you can warm up the scene with a reminder that this too will pass.
Persephone will rise again, coaxing up verdant sprouting flowers and dewdrops galore. Rainbow-winged bugs and iridescent magpies ... the reminder of life budding, blooming, bursting and beautifully growing.
Time to check out the lurid sexy flowers of winter, a deluge of excitement rattled the Autumn/Winter 2016-17 collections. A confetti of sequins and electro furs; puffy silhouettes of cotton candy pink, everything bursting with life—take that, Hades.
Dolce & Gabbana really presented a botanical feast for the eyes.
Set against a background of houndstooth (trust me, somehow it worked), the dynamic duo covered coats, dresses and blouses in juicy candy red apples, colorful budgies, fat roses, feathery peonies, elegant tulips, poppies and even teddy bears. I can say this is my favorite collection from these boys in 10 years bar-none. Not too costume-y, but completely wearable and a strangely beautiful balance between tailored stoic winter lines and puffy fantasy fleurs. It is absolute perfection, and everything you need to remedy winter's solemn tone. But some of us want to look less serious, and for silly you (and me), GUCCI has served up delectable, tooth-rotting confections of pure goof, from a bubble gum-pink puff fur to a menswear look complete with a flower power embroidered denim jacket avec playful red butterflies.
From Fendi to Alexander McQueen to Vetements to Kenzo, everything is coming up roses this winter! Oceans of shimmer, petals, fuzz and, heck, life-affirming happy-fun fashion can be addictive without eating any lotuses.
Let go of the idea that spring is for flowers and embrace the blossoms of winter. Replace the expectations of bitter cold and replace them with the daydreams of deep, sumptuous fragrance, rich electric shades and absolute shameless joie de vivre.
Double Take (320 Aztec St., 989-8886) in Santa Fe is one of my bright spots on harsh winter days. They have everything from vintage cowboy couture to easy-on-the-wallet cashmere sweaters. From lollipop-colored Bakelite to silk scarves and sequined jackets, owner Suzanne Wissman has jam-packed the treasures into easy-to-find sections.
In harmony with the sparkling, dazzling, shimmering light we have in winter at over 7,000 feet and the AW 2016-17 looks, I say go with sequins. There is nothing more exciting than jazzing up your snuggly flannel and snow boots with a sequin jacket. I snagged a gem for under $80 last jaunt in and it is so blindingly glamour-dusted that Jean Harlow would be jelly.
