To My Sisters:
You were my first best friends, my first enemies, my first supporters, my first critics. You saw me through bowl cuts, tamagotchis, mood swings, Steve Madden platforms (remember? the kind with that stretchy black elastic thing over the top of the foot? Sick.), rejections, graduations, that time that I lived abroad and cried home every day — and, miracle of miracles, you still love me and appear to enjoy my company despite the many forms of hazing to which I subjected you. (C, you almost got me back when you painted a mustache on my face.) We shared clothes (often, much to our mutual frustration), beds, crushes on our older brother’s friends, stolen liquor from Mom and Dad’s pantry, secrets, Barbies, friends, our parents’ attention, and many objects we were instructed to share (and that we did share…resentfully). Suffice to say that there is no one who could know me better, and that I love you so fully and understand you so deeply that sometimes I genuinely forget where my stories end and yours begin. (Was it me that spent a Thanksgiving crying on the phone because I was so homesick, or was that you, C? L, did you have a crush in kindergarten on someone named Victor, or was that me? And did someone vapid tell me that she “liked atmosphere,” or was that a story from E’s arsenal?) Do all sisters share this depth of kinship?
I say all of this because every now and then (including this morning) I get this little thunderbolt in my stomach when I feel acutely the distance between us and realize that I don’t know when we will all be in the same place again. Holidays and weekend trips feel like a consolation prize, just enough to remind me how much more I need to see you. Now, I’m not a huge fan of e.e. cummings (a little cutesy, overwrought), but these lines distill, in the way only poetry can, my thoughts exactly:
i carry your heart with me(i carry it in
my heart)i am never without it(anywhere
i go you go, my dear;and whatever is done
by only me is your doing,my darling)
Today’s post is my little way of showing you that I am carrying your heart with me, in this case, in my life as a bloggerina. I want to feature each of you lovelies.
Sweetest, most beautiful heart — L, you are stunning inside and out and proof that sometimes big sisters look up to little sisters.
On a more frivolous note, I can totally see you in this bow-front coat (Valentino,$895):
And then a pearl necklace (Lanvin, $644), a ladylike cardigan ($65), knit flared skirt (ALC, on sale for $149), and some bow-toed flats (Miu Miu, $595). And – can’t forget a Mason Pearson brush ($99) – your hair is always perfect.
You also have a fab hippie side to your styling, and I secretly know that the reason you’ve been pushing us to go to Coachella is because you already have a new concert outfit picked out. In that vein, I could totally see you rocking this number ($530):
You are my little rockstar, my heart, my soul. You make me laugh like no one else can. You are a New Yorker through-and-through and I feel cooler in your presence. Have to kick off your wardrobe with a fur-and-leather combo. I know the one you own is Haute Hippie, but this Phillip Lim style ($1,750) is so you.
These separates remind me of you — RayBans ($245); cool, casual v-neck ($29); the vintage Chanel bag you inherited from Mia (most prized possession), black leather skirt ($85); bow-trimmed booties ($995); gray leopard scarf ($295):
Your name is synonymous with arm party in my mind — you rock a serious tangle of bracelets, and have done so since you were about ten years old. These pieces remind me of you (leopard, $198; bow, $48; nailhead, $78; link, $88):
My little buddy, I’ve so loved having you close to me in Chicago. You make it home. You are the brightest, sweetest love bug and there’s no one I’d rather share a SkinnyGirl cocktail with.
You always joke about the fact that you dress like you’re going to work every day of the week, but I think you look smart and together. Love you in one of your crisp blouses (on sale for $80; a pencil skirt ($108); and one of your seemingly thousands of pairs of flats ($39):
For weekend wear, I see you rocking a trim trench ($188) —
I love you all!