A funeral isn’t exactly the best place for a girl to showcase her sense of style—especially when it’s her best friend’s alleged killer who recently expired. But leave it to Aria (Luch Hale), Emily (Shay Mitchell), Hanna (Ashley Benson) and Spencer (Troian Bellisario) to somehow channel their own sartorial preferences in a pre-fab 90s girl band sort of way at Ian’s supremely awkward funeral.
Even if her hair isn’t streaked in neon pink, Aria still works her punk-tinged style with a mini-pouf dress layered under a breezily tied wrap-sweater. Her hair in a messy updo just adds to her heroine in distress look to further torment Ezra…er, Mr. Fitz (Ian Harding), while attracting a borderline flirt session with a sketchy Jason DiLaurentis (Drew Van Acker). Sporty Emily keeps it conservative with a button-front cardie over a simple high-neck tunic dress—although, the body-con fit does show off her swimming-toned physique. Spencer—in a bit of a metaphorical self statement—combines a country club-ready A-line-skirted frock with a bad girl mesh shrug. And Hanna, oh, Hanna. While at her larcenous mom’s request, she left the hot pink, body-hugging Hervé Leger number at home, the appropriateness of her final choice remains questionable. But props for bringing the drams with her revealing, draped-front cocktail dress and Kate Middleton-worthy veiled chapeau.
Here are a few ways of channeling cemetery chic, like the lying foursome, but hopefully for a more festive occasion.
It’s been bothering me for the past couple episodes and last night, it finally hit me. The new Jason DiLaurentis on Pretty Little Liars looks like a frattier, beefed-up version of Julian Casablancas, the lead singer of the Strokes. The two did like to party back in the day…
I walking up Madison Avenue toward 67th Street yesterday and I came across a fairly common sighting on the streets of New York City: A television shoot. My first thought was, “Wow, this is a really nice craft services table”—fancy yogurts, croissants and a fresh fruit bowl that even included a mango. Second thought, “Who’s shooting?!” A look at the permit sign revealed that was my current obsession The Good Wife.
It looked like they were prepping for an indoor shoot and the craft services and trucks were set up right outside of the Jimmy Choo boutique (with perhaps our Madison Avenue standing in for Chicago’s tony Oak Street?). Wonder what scene that could be…Will we find out where Kalinda buys her sexy, sexy footwear? Is Peter buying a make-up gift for Alicia? Hm….with her top-notch wardrobe, Diane definitely owns a pair of Choos or two. Guess only time will tell and I’ll be keeping an eye out.
Nick Sobotka: From the docks to the board room
This week’s episode of The Good Wife is titled “Ham Sandwich”, but I like to think of it was The Wire Reunion Part Deux. Part one would be the episode last year when we were introduced to a born-again Chris Partlow (Gbenga Akinnagbe) as Pastor Isiah Easton and Police Commissioner Ervin Burrell (Frankie Faison) popped-up to play Isiah’s dad. Plus, last season, corrupt longshoreman Frank Sobotka (Chris Bauer) appeared on the (semi) right side of the law as a corporate lawyer and Bodie (J.D. Williams) continued on the same career path under employ of yet another drug kingpin, but in a different zip code.
Speaking of Sobotkas, we received the memo that Nick Sobotka (Pablo Schreiber—currently on Lights Out and also Liev Schreiber’s half-brother, what?) would make an appearance on “Ham Sandwich” as a lawyer opposing Lockhardt Gardner, but as the episode rolled on, it just got better and better. Chris Partlow, I mean Pastor Isiah, finally materialized after what seemed like a long absence. And hello, does Chris Partlow clean up well—Pastor Isiah was looking extremely dapper in his perfectly tailored Italian suit and super-natty wool coat.
To sum it up: I have zero interest in sports. I admit that I’ve attended a baseball game for micro-brew beer and gourmet pulled pork sandwiches (yes, the yuppie-fied Citi Field experience) or feigned understanding of football just to socialize with friends, eat junky food and drink bad beer at Superbowl gatherings, but other than that, I really don’t care. So understandably, I was skeptical when Henry started watching the Fab 5 documentary that recently aired on ESPN (shudder).
Now, Henry DVRs everything and it sometimes takes him days just to finish a one hour show. This past week, I’ve walked in a couple times as he was viewing segments of the much-discussed (for sports reasons, obvi) doc and I have to admit, I was sucked in every time. But not because of the sports. I had no idea that the five college players were major sartorial gamechangers on and off court—from forgoing the then-preferred short-shorts for long, slouchy styles (which I thank you, thank you) to assembling the then-revolutionary and now-standard black footwear and sock combination. It was sort of enlightening to realize that my preferred monochromatic pairing of black socks with black Nikes can be traced back to the trendsetting quintet. Henry hasn’t finished the documentary yet, but I think I might just watch the remainder with him to learn more about the Fab 5’s statement-making influence in fashion. Oh and learn about basketball in the process, I suppose.
Oh wow. Have I been remiss in updating my blog or what? How very embarrassing. I suppose I haven’t been feeling super inspired as of late and I also realized that I need to narrow down the subject matter of F Like Frank. So after much debate, I decided that going forward, I will concentrate on my first love: TV. That doesn’t mean I can’t write about fashion that relates to TV, of course. And for other fashion and shopping updates, you can always see me on Racked NY and Racked National. Stay tuned, as they say.
Now picture Henry and Dad double parked across Haight Street...
Happy New Year! Ooh, my bad. My last post was clearly during the holidays and I’ve been a bit delayed in posting since. Well, this a good segue into mentioning my holiday vacation to the Bay Area. Along with biking along the coast in Monterey, getting blotto while wine tasting in the Carmel Valley and eating way too much in San Francisco, I managed to find the time to make a quick stop into my favorite vintage store, Held Over, in the legendary Haight-Ashbury. (Actually it was more like Henry dropping Dad and me off while he double parked across the street. Dad walked in and immediately back out again to the car giving me just enough time to peruse the racks, try on the items and purchase.)
Aside from the fabulously reasonable prices and impressive stock, what I love, love about the store is that everything in there is merchandised and categorized by campy and detailed image-invoking genres, like “70’s/80’s Sexy Secretary” and “Euro Boobie Tanks“. I mean, those labels pretty much sum it all up right there. That also means none of that rifling through a mass of moth-ball scented and odd-hued frocks to unearth an odd gem here and there. This place is optimum for efficient vintage shopping.