Since I’ve moved to Sacramento, my warm coats have been neglected, especially my fancy warm coats. I’m not sure what I’m saving them for. Surely, a walk along the river on New Year’s Day is worthy of vintage faux fur.
Coat, Russell Taylor (vintage). Hoodie, Jo & Co Jeans (thrifted). Turtleneck, Gap (swap). Belt, thrifted. Shorts, 7 for All Mankind (thrifted). Boots, Sam Edelman. Sunglasses, Target. Earrings, street fair.
I get a kick out of the hobo vibe of a fur coat over more practical garments, especially a hooded sweatshirt or vest. To complete my homeless look, I fell off the path on the way to the river and ripped my leggings and knee open. Let’s just say that I didn’t have to be jumping up and down in front of the unmanned tripod for other visitors to give me a wide berth. Or maybe I was too fancy for them.
That’s me: fancy among the trash and art installations along the river. Besides the cairns spelling out “YO,” someone has, painstakingly, lined white rocks along the trunk of this downed tree.