When I first started scouting jewelry for Colifichet, I quickly grew tired the ubiquitous rhinestone. It’s as if that was the default for all costume jewelry from the 20s to the 70s. Oh wait, it was. Thanks, Coco Chanel (truly).

But despite seeing them everywhere and in every incarnation, I still couldn’t resist the humble sparklers. Above are three of my favorite rhinestone finds.

Silk pillows by Agnes & Hoss

Alphabet print by Binth

Ombre vinyl vase by Unison

Having recently stuck one tentative toe in the small business world (Ok, so selling jewelry is a bit of a sustainable hobby at this point), I find that I’m increasingly supportive of local and/or small businesses. These Chicago-based designers are well established and sell their goods around the world. Agnes & Hoss makes nature-inspired silk bags and pillows with gorgeous prints and colors; Binth offers charming-modern prints; and Unison is a staple for textiles—and more, like these nifty vinyl vases.

I discovered each via the trade show circuit, but I’m also a proud customer (and gift recipient), too.

Several weeks ago, a blog post on The Cut deigned to suggest that not everyone looks good in black. Naturally, the commentators had a field day. Whether or not this argument has legs–I believe it had something to do with skin tone–matters very little. Wearing head-to-toe black is a fail-safe tactic. It’s sleek and sort of anonymous, despite it’s show-stopping potential (and conversely, its capacity to be cliche). That dichotomy is what makes it appealing. And with black as armor, you can blend in or…. you might just don a futuristic catsuit or perforated leather or fuzzy skirts. Anything goes.

Here are my favorite achromatic looks from NYFW.

From top: Cushnie et Ochs, Herve Leger, Diane Von Furstenburg

Canoe ~ photo by Christine Sisson

How do you evaluate a city that’s new to you? Do you size up its public transportation? Scope out its top-rated restaurants? Hit the check-list of must-visit attractions recommended by your know-it-all neighbor?

We all have that benchmark for a city’s cool factor, be it the architecture, live-music scene or street food. My husband can make a snap judgment about a new city based on the number and quality of record stores. For me, it’s all about the design shops. I could name dozens of them from the cities I’ve visited, but for the purposes of Les Trois, I’ll limit the list to one from each “coast.”

1) Canoe, Portland, OR ~ Before Powell’s and an extensive tour of Portland’s breweries (but, admittedly, after a bacon-maple bar at Voodoo Doughnut), I beelined for this store. I had read about it in Lucky and already knew I would love it, and it did not disappoint.

Canoe is all about meticulously selected items, great merchandising and–above all–a singular commitment to good design.Items here have a noticeably Scandinavian-slash-Japanese bent, noted for that distinctive hybrid of functionality and style. But for a design store with museum-like placards labeling every item, Canoe is refreshingly accessible. The owners are nice. Many of the items are irresistably charming. Truly, every piece for sale, be it an art object or a bottle opener, feels special. (Heck, they probably could have found a dazzling garbage bag if they tried.) And the range of categories–from office supplies to toys to kitchen goods–and price points means there’s a lot for everyone (everyone with elevated taste, that is). Favorite find: Endearing, elegant Kristian Vedel birds

2) Lille, Chicago ~ It’s dangerous when you live so close to a place like Lille. I used to, so I know. It’s nondescript from the outside, just a narrow blip on a retail-dense block in Wicker Park. But inside, it’s marvelous–accessories, furniture, tableware and personal items that, paradoxically, drip with style in the most subtle way (if that makes any sense).

You know when you meet that person who share so much in common with that it’s almost a bit unsettling? That’s how I feel about whomever does the buying for Lille. Each plate, vase, necklace and trinket is carefully curated, resulting in an eclectic mix of modern minimalism and fanciful one-offs (like the roly-poly Caillard guineas–who doesn’t need one of those?). I also love that there isn’t too much of one look. Tableware, for example, ranges from classic (Heath Ceramics) to borderline avant-garde (Laura Zindel’s super-cool bug plates). Favorite find: Lacquered wood stacking boxes in every color combination (I’ve had my eye on them for years.)

3) Good, Boston ~  I remember that Thanksgiving weekend in Boston, if only for this: After a truly raucous night at Bukowski’s, P and I spent the next morning wandering around Beacon Hill. My half daze didn’t prevent me from spotting the store sign from across the cobbled street. Good. I could get behind anything labeled as Good. Not that it mattered; it was clearly something cool, and I was like a fly to the design-store honey.

This is what we affectionately call a “Tine store.” As in, it has my name written all over it.  The shop’s tiny space belies its expansive mix of fresh home decor and accessories. And everything has its place: Creamy pottery resides next to small, buttery leather goods and jewelry. The occasional piece of furniture somehow makes sense alongside rich soaps and fragrant candles. The limited square footage means there’s only room for the, well, good stuff. Favorite find: House of Cards, by Charles and Ray Eames — the chicest deck of cards I’ve ever seen.

I’m not a Blackberry girl, and mark my words, I will never own an iPhone. I prefer writing my lists and notes in ink, on paper–all the better for crossing out or revisiting years later.

When it comes to carry-everywhere notebooks, it doesn’t get much better than Moleskine. It’s the gold standard, as far as I’m concerned, and I say that knowing I can’t truly back up the claim.

I mean, really, what is it that makes Moleskine so alluring? The notebooks are stylish, discreet and durable, sure. But it’s the brand–not the books–that has me wrapped around its finger (kind of like Taschen with its line of arty datebooks. Or Chuck Taylors). There’s a timelessness and undeniable cache. The sartorial equivalent would be the Parisian girl who looks unbelievably chic in a nondescript button down, jeans and ballet flats. Totally safe, yet well executed…and yet, somehow different than if I were to don the same look.

And then there’s the history: two hundred years of being toted in the burlap sacks, leather satchels and Jansport backpacks of writers, artists and wannabes. I guess owning a Moleskine is a bit like joining a club. But while I admit that I’m a sponge for sneaky marketing, I certainly have embraced them over the years.

In Prague (see, already a cliche), I filled several of them at Cafe Fra, coaxed by glasses of cheap white wine. I wrote to-do lists, flight times (my complex research methods required computer and pen to keep everything straight) and ideas. One book holds a very rough business plan for an unlikely-to-be-launched venture.  It’s kind of poignant to look at it now, but I’m glad I have the hard evidence. You never know.

I enjoy looking back and seeing the food stains on the page and my circuitous notes. I like to recall my state of mind, where I was at the time I wrote whatever I wrote. And, so, to honor the concrete tangible permanence of bound journals, diaries and the like, here are three more I love:

I love how the leather on these metallic books from Sweet Bella is rich, but rough. (While you’re on the site, check out their lovely porcelain fruit and fun phones.)

Aviva Stanoff’s plush velvet journals and albums are almost are pretty as her organic-print pillows. I love her color palette and how she incorporates natural elements in her designs.

Fun, graphic mums aside, what I really like about this Elum journal is the tangerine hue–elegant and cheeky at once.

My abiding penchant for necklaces is evident to anyone who knows me. My collection is eclectic, if not entirely handed-down or constructed from other fragments—a mesh-like rhinestone bow without a chain, a century-old cameo, beads from the bottom of a drawer.

There are the cheapies, the vintage, and the pieces from childhood: a gold cross, a sailboat pendant from Dubai, a misshapen Elsa Peretti C. They’re all layered without abandon, because I believe accessorizing shouldn’t be planned or premeditated. (What is the fascination with matching?)

Most of all, I love a good chunky necklace. Here are three of my favorites.

WHAT: Alexis Bittar “Victoria” necklace. (Buy it here.)

WHY: When I tried it on, it felt delightfully substantial yet not overpowering. (Plus, it would look incredible with a white tank and jeans.)

WHAT: Marni Large Flower necklace (Buy it here.)

WHY: You can’t go wrong with Marni’s signature, statement-making resin and ribbon baubles: compelling and edgy but always wearable.

WHAT: Dori Csengeri Santa Fe necklace. (Buy it here.)

WHY: It’s ornate–more tribal work of art than accessory–and stands out from its trendier counterparts. (Pair it with a slinky black dress, and you’re set.)