The skinny

Sometime between the fall shows and the first snow fall, I decided never to wear skinny jeans. The mutton-chop pant-leg look was not, after all, a look I wanted to go for, and so I sat on the sidelines as the leggings look trickled down from the catwalk to the sidewalk. I held out as A-, B-, then C-list celebs wore them, and even lasted through the first, second, third blast of merch in stores.

But weak from a "I'm going to L.A. and have nothing to wear" dilemma, I took to impulse shopping and bought a pair of black skinny-leg pants. The purchase sat in a bag for two weeks before I built enough courage to wear them out (aided by a long tunic top, of course). That was in December.

A month later, I actually contemplated wearing skinny jeans all week. So what about my thighs--nothing that a long top or oversized cardi can't cover. The pants are perfect for tucking into boots and are a no brainer with a foot of snow on the ground.

Sure, Lindsay Lohan puts up with a lot of slack for wearing leggings/skinny jeans all the time. But, really, who can blame her?

Picture perfect

Being camera-shy really isn't an option these days. It seems everywhere you turn there's a camera-phone or digital camera snapping away, capturing life's every little moment and then some. Personally, I've never liked having my photo taken. The worst being ID photos. I always felt there was something a bit phony about them. A stiff pose. A faked smile. Picture day in grade school was a torturous ordeal. I would practice the night before, looking in the mirror and posing: smiling not too much to scrunch my eyes, not too little to look uncomfortable; chin down; face angled to the "good" side; shoulders down; clothing adjusted; hair just so; breathe in. Oh, and look natural.

So last week, when I found out I could have my work ID re-taken, I was torn. As much as I disliked being photographed, I was also partly thrilled. The photo I had for the past year was so objectively terrible--I had biked to work in on a high-heat-alert day and didn't know I was having my picture taken--that it outweighed the overall dread.

Oddly enough, it was the thought of Victoria Beckham that eased my usual photo anxiety. On picture day, a colleague reminded me of the TV special where Posh goes to the DMV. She gets all posy-posy as if being photographed for a magazine shoot. She looked ridiculous to me at the time--I mean, it was just her driver's license photo. But perhaps she (and it pains me to admit it, but Paris Hilton with her trademark red-carpet pose as well) are onto something: If there's a camera around, might as well work it. Right.

The long and short of it

Like the ever-divisive reaction to cilantro or Crocs, people seem to either love or hate Kirsten Dunst. Whether discussing her acting abilities or her style, some aspect of her, for some reason or other, is bound to irk/delight. Personally, I like the films she's been in but am no fan of hers. Which makes it all the more harder for me to admit that she has single-handedly inspired me to go smaller (bag-wise) and longer (strap-wise). I am obsessed with her latest bag.

Large and small, in black, white, gray and counting, an enviable collection of Jane Mayle Billie bags have been photographed on Ms. Dunst over the summer. Much like her consistency in taste--from boys to sunglasses--she has carried the long-strapped purse with total abandon, a refreshing change from the oversized totes that everyone else seems to be lugging around.

Yes, the classic Chanel chain-strap shoulder purse is also hot among the downtown and young Hollywood crowds of late, but it's thanks to Ms. Dunst that I have become a long-strapped purse devotee.

Chacun son gout, as they say.

Prime time

Spotted outside the Four Seasons: A and B dolled up in short, sexy, satin numbers. A checks out B, then herself and grins in approval.

A: We're so, like, The Hills or Gossip Girl or something.

B: Actually, I'm going for more of a Blair thing.

Seems that talk of Gossip Girl has not only hit the streets, but the hot show of the season also has its own influential character-based style. (The Blair being referred to is, of course, GG's naughty-meets-preppy Blair Waldorf.) Not bad after just three episodes. Next up? Quite possibly the bad-girl-turned-good, legs-down-to-there Blake look. Stay tuned.