The Styles of Nikka

I mean: please.

My friend Nikka Lanzarone has been featured a few times here at London Still (all things Hello Again, the Playbill feature I wrote last Spring BoCo-mance as well as kvelling over my new NYC gal-pals) ...But she is also a stylist, and she is the real deal. So naturally I have to add my two cents. 

LOOK: you know that girl whose mom was "'smokin' hot in her hayday" (and, frankly, still is) and thus cleans up great for a party because she is wearing all her mother's hand-me-downs?

That same girl who can't get her act together to look like anything more than a clueless tree-hugging 7th grader in her everyday life?
Well. That's me. 

Or that WAS me, until Nikka Lanzarone told me that color was my friend.
And that it wasn't okay to wear a headscarf every day.
And jeans four sizes too large stolen from a donation box were just not going to cut it after junior year of undergraduate school.
That I could love my shape.
That looking great was not just for dancers and models and people who liked fashion.
That looking great was for everyone.
     Was for me.
That I could be that girl: The girl who can absolutely wear structured pieces and jeans that fit and vintage picks and look fabulous all the time.
     ...Not just at a party in her mom's clothes. 

Thanks Nikka. 

I thank you, and so does the world who has to look at me.

Nikka is one of my favo(u)rite pals.
But she should also be your stylist.
She is more than a rockin' bod, signature wHit and able to put her leg above her head.

Check her out.