Eu odeio pansies, as flores da parede que caem somente longe da parede quando vêem que algo mais forte querem se aderir a, para os suportar.

As flores aborrecidas gostam que começam lançadas afastado em um dia.

As únicas flores que eu gosto são como as rosas pretas nestes Sandals do corsage de Alexander McQueen. Dadas forma assim esperta, estruturado assim com cuidado, as nuvens escuras pequenas da beleza original fazem a estes a saliência das sapatas de Alexander McQueen. Ao contrário dos copycats e dos housewives catty, as rosas podiam fàcilmente estar no seus próprios.

Os olhos fechados largamente, imaginam:

As rosas fariam pasties grandes, direito?

» Sandals do corsage de Alexander McQueen $1.124, Net-a-Porter.com

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Com o Halloween pendurado sobre, é hora de preparar presentes para Kwanzanukkah, para jogar selfless, -

Presente aqueles que presente você rica o mais melhor.

É apenas negócio bom.

Mas antes de seu spree de compra, invest em um algo para yourself, como estes dois-tom curvado Sapatas Christian de Louboutin. Todos dirigem preto e o satin sério, estas sapatas de Louboutin do cristão curv-amarra-se yourself em seu próprio presente.

O arco ambicioso mandá-lo-á prestar atenção a sua caminhada em sua reunião.

E mate-o.

» Sapatas Christian de Louboutin com curva $925, Rede-um-Porter

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Halloween está toda aproximadamente:

Glam de Goth e divertimento preto.

Começando um período sobre.

Vestindo mais slutty do que usual.

Qual seria duro, sem estes Sapatas do carregador de Choo do Jimmy “período chamado.”

Halloween feliz, lovelies.

XXXO,
» Jimmy Choo boot sling-backs $1,200, Net-a-Porter.com

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Better to be a whore than a housewife:

One’s all fair trade and freedom, and the other’s a leash in the form of a shared bank account.

One’s all love making and passion, and the other is baby breeding punctuated with a yawn.

One’s all fuck-you Brian Atwood shoes in mad red, and the other is I - haven’t - been - fucked - in - five - months terrycloth slippers stained with dull decaf drip from a chipped mug.

Shudder.

» Brian Atwood shoes $526, Net-a-Porter.com

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This Givenchy shoe is how sex should style: playfully tough, smartly erotic, equal parts femme submission and masculine domination.

And like sex, this Givenchy shoe’s success lies in its details: an extra thick cover-up exaggerates a peep show of a peep toe, the tiny polished studs drip wet-like over a beautiful skin, and a sumptuous arch is inspired by something long and hard and–

Maybe I should stop watching porn between writing dirty love letters to you.

» Givenchy shoes $535, Barneys.com

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“Fuck you” shoes are heels with an ambitious arch, a solid sole, “fuck you” shoes are a decidedly bold shoe you’ve earned that stands tall alone, figuratively — they’re confident like you — and literally — they style boss with just trashy lingerie.

“Fuck you” shoes mean you’re on top, whether you’re single or partnered.

And “fuck me” shoes?

“Fuck me” shoes are overpriced designer duds inviting you to get fucked by any dude you think might be able to pay off the credit you used to buy the heels.

Can I get a “fuck yeah”?

» Alberta Ferretti shoes $745, Net-a-Porter.com 

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Birds of a feather flock together, while cool cats play alone.

I was once politely conversating (read: “boring chat supposed to be greased with cocktails at a party”), and someone asked me if I were an early bird.

“I’m the cat that eats the bird,” I replied.

And these Patrick Cox shoes would be the heels I’d sport while dining very fine.

Meow, motherfuckers.

» Patrick Cox shoes with feathers $399, Koodos.com

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Just like those Pretty Women on Sunset Blvd., these goodies from ASOS are S-E-X on the cheap.

Only a little safer.

And likely less exciting for your boy.

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I pat on porcelain powder, brighten eyes with smudges of black, crimp and coat my lashes–thrice–, gloss my lips nude, smooth my bangs with a second blow (dry) job, dab on Chanel’s liquid gold, survey my closet and decide a blue wool tank is now a dress, then strap on red light-district suede, peepshow peep toes. And I always skip a bra–

I realized years ago it saved some time.

Sometimes the Kristopher in me hates the prissy Krissy I doll up daily as, but grooming gorgeous is only one more thing you should always do right: looking your best opens wider a window–and maybe your legs–to opportunity, it polishes your pride, it–

Makes you late to a last minute doctor’s appointment. I speed to Beverly Hills, screech into a parking space, and stroll to the office. I loop signatures on paperwork probably okaying selling my kidneys in Tijuana, and finally meet a mediocre M.D.

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“Bye– Wait.”

My finger hangs above the END CALL button.

“Can you wear something kind of normal for the cocktail party?” asks The Boy.

“You mean a Beyonce-grade, sequined flapper frock cut up to my crotch, with leopard platforms?”

“The guests will be 80 years old. You’ll send them to their death if you come in your Betty Boop shit.”

“Have faith, friend. I’ll look lovely. I have to go now and put on my face.”

“All that eye shadow?”

“Tah, tah.” I hang up on The Boy, and carefully create my face: I pat on porcelain powder, I super-size my eyes with charcoal shadow, I smudge beams of bright on the bone of my cheeks. Then I blend all my makeup together so my paint-by-features face softens into play of light and shadow. I smooth down my bobbed hair, I spritz on a shower of Juicy Couture perfume, I–

Am amazed I can do this in less than an hour. Finally I step into wedding-white mary janes, I slip on a cotton and crinkled chiffon frock that’s a cloud of vanilla, the flavor of the lives of guests at the party The Boy invited me to.

It was his dressy-casual, SoCal social scene debut in expensive suburbia on the coast, a mini village of McMansions owned by the retired or near retired, and The Boy’s inviting me to his new neighborhood mixer came with his request I lighten my use of mascara and the word “fuck.” “Hmm. I can do social scripting,” I reassured The Boy. “I’m rusty on that ‘And how do you do’ bull shit, but I can handle it. You mostly see my Hyde, but I can play Dr. Jekyll, too. All Prozac pretty smiles and cliche conversation.”

“Perfect,” he said.

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With a new season falling in, I like to strip my life down to its best: people who make me the most profit, work that inspires the most pleasure; I whittle away my life to things with a most ambitious arch–

Like Pretty Woman, patent Pedro Garcia boots. Ruthlessly clean in design, just a bare bootie that’s glossy boss, these Pedro Garcia boots are a reminder of what life should be:

Simple, smart, and–

Oozing S-E-X.

» Pedro Garcia booties $440, Net-a-Porter

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Though I think the world is black and white truths and a rainbow of feeling, sometimes I see the gray: I’m confident enough to wonder if I’ll be smart enough to max out my potential, I don’t want to get locked down in wedlock but I wonder if I’ll meet anyone I’d like to marry, and I–

Wonder when these Jimmy Choo boots will go on sale.

Full retail or slashed half price, the Jimmy Choo boots are still glossy boss in a gray patent leather that’s the perfect shield for those rare rainy days in L.A.

» Jimmy Choo boots in gray patent leather $1,125 via Net-a-Porter

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Dear Kristopher,
I recently bought a pair of fur boots. They are knee-high and beige grey. They are real fur, and I’m uncertain of how to wear them without coming across as ordinary, awkward, or a Chewbacca! Do you have any advice?

Thanks,
Camilla

I’m always full of advice, always full of soy lattes, always full of _____ (feel free to leave a comment and fill in the blank, you dirty, lovely things).

It’d be obvious to rock your fur boots with some second-skin pants and a tunic, but–

You’re not obvious. So check this boss little red dress by Karen Zambo Vintage Couture ($330). Neither vintage nor couture, it’s a simple shift in a red, sunset print, and the fresh frock will style cheeky chic against your furry boots, without being overly gimmicky.

Unlike this punch line.

XXXO,
K

» Fur boots $375 $225 via ColeHaan.com

» Want to know how to rock a leopard skirt, where to buy trashy lingerie, or the meaning of life? Email KRiSTOPHER.

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There’s more “why” to my working from home than the separation anxiety I feel for my espresso machine, besides being able to make money from nine to five, five to nine in trashy lingerie.

I hustle from home because Los Angeles traffic is soul sucking.

And I don’t even have a soul.

I dial The Boy–who has noted the ridiculousness of being referring to as “The Boy” when he’s almost twice my age–while I’m on Laurel Canyon Blvd., a road that winds through the Hollywood hills into a scenic parking lot come 5 p.m. “Did you hit traffic yet?”

“Yes.”

“Do you want to stab yourself yet?”

“Yes,” he answers. “Can you do me a favor?”

“Tell me what it is first.”

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Accused of sexually soliciting an undercover cop at an airport, Senator Craig is bouncing between fight or flight for his public post, between stories of base bathroom banging or mundane missionary in marriage faster than I bounce between lusting and loving these boss Bruno Frisoni shoes.

Sinfully black in a Garden-of-Eden snakeskin, much like the Republican senator’s political position, the Bruno Frisoni shoes’ fat platform actually only serves to have you teeter on an ambitious arch delicately depending on a pin-thin heel.

Walking on a razor-sharp line dividing unapologetic S-E-X and formal black, these Bruno Frisoni shoes are perfect for Craig-haters’ fantasies of what the senator wears on his weekends off, these Bruno Frisoni shoes are perfect for a black tie, White House dinner party, these Bruno Frisoni shoes are perfect for–

When you lean over three types of forks and whisper loud to your boyfriend that you muse on ménaging with Hillary Clinton.

» Bruno Frisoni shoes in snakeskin $825, Saks

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