When I was a child my parent's called me "Pusha" (pronounced pooh-jah) which is the hungarian word for soft. Not because of my baby soft skin or squeezable rolls - because I loved soft silky fabrics. Upon learning I was expected to wear an item of clothing that I deemed "not soft enough" I would promptly rip it from my tiny body and fling the offending item away, regardless of where we were located. I was a naked hippy baby. Can't find the baby? Look for a soft pile of fabric and you'll find her snuggled underneath. So it began and so it continues. I shop in stores by trailing my fingers along the racks of clothes, stopping only when something soft enough touches my fingertips. My husband has watched me slowly divest his closet of all offending fabrics (I find uncombed cotton particularly offensive...) and fill every space with soft blankets.
Probably the only reason I don't own more silk, is well, the price. Silk is expensive. Delicate. Perfect for all temperatures, silky soft and thin as air, it is my quintessentially perfect fabric.
Behold, the most buttery soft, thin, well-cut, flatteringly colored shirt of all time.
I'm in love.
EVERLANE SILK HABOTAI | REBECCA MINKOFF METALLIC HEELS | 7 FOR ALL MANKIND JEANS with DIY Rips | Miu Miu Sunglasses