Let me just start by saying that before I lived in LA, sunglasses were not a big part of my wardrobe. Here however, it is sunny almost every single day and so you wear sunglasses almost every single day. In my grown-up-ness, I’ve discovered that I can’t do the the cheapies anymore. I’ll spend money on them and appreciate them like the little pieces of fashion that they are.
Which is why I devote an entire blog entry as to how I ended up with the most killer vintage lizard shades. As I mentioned in my last entry, mon mari gave me, among other things, a lovely gift of sunglasses for my birthday (as I was convinced that airport security stole my new pair of Oliver Peoples glasses from their case in my suitcase coming home from holiday, but that’s another story.) That was nice of him, but actually I haven’t needed an excuse for buying sunglasses of late, they seem to have become a bit like shoes for me. Meaning, I just can’t get enough. In addition to the Dita aviators, there’s the 2 Wayfarers I got in France this summer, the Philip Lim’s I got at the NY boutique, new pair of Peoples (which are gone, thank god kinda), a pair of Lanvin’s I got just because they were priced so low, how could I refuse?
And, so the gift from mon mari, it was sweet, but it turned into a wee drama. He has a favorite optical store in Silverlake – Gogosha Optique. (which their website says is “a high end, service and design driven eyewear and sunglass boutique” but is really just a super geekified glasses store at which I feel immediately inadequate for not knowing the difference of frames made in France over frames made in Japan – all the best are made in either country and no where else. I wear contacts which is not so cool in this boutique. But do I appreciate the expertise and old school service here. Don’t expect to find any Diors or Guccis at this place. Those glasses may be expensive, but Julia, the store’s owner eschews any logos on any of her glasses saying, “if you have to advertise your logo, your design wasn’t strong enough to sell itself.” Meow.) So he presents me with a wrapped, empty box from the store and accompanies me to pick something out.
First, I choose a pair of Salt sunglasses, the Carly model, to be exact. I have them for a day when I look at myself in the mirror and think ‘who are you?’ That’s not a good thing to think when you know le mari may presumably want to actually see me wearing his gift every once and a while. SO I call the boutique and ask if I could come exchange them for another pair. Yes, they say, come in. I exchange them for the “Audrey” Oliver Goldsmith’s which you see in the previous entry. I wear them for a day or 2 and then realize that they give me a terrible headache. I call the store again – seriously this is uncharacteristic – ask if I could come back and either exchange or have them adjusted. They say yes, true to their service-oriented-selves. I crawl back in and assure them that I don’t normally do things like this. After trying on every pair in the store and staying longer than my one hour meter allows, I am going to leave empty handed when I see them open one of the drawers and spy an entire field of sunglasses I’d never seen. What are those, I ask? They’re our vintage collection, they respond. May I take a look? Sure. Standing over the drawer the skin coated frames are the 2nd ones I try on and when they illicit ooohs and aaahs from the staff I have to take a look. I love them. I take them. I will not return them.
And the fashion mags all proclaiming skin to be in, I don’t care, I just love these glasses. Could they be hotter?