Archive for March, 2012
And yet it does.
At least once or twice over the weekend, I take my dog Sammy on a seriously epic stroll. He has never met a human or canine he did not want to get to know a whole lot better, and he goes batty without exercise. I had an errand to run on 3rd Street and Avenue A, a few Sundays ago so off we went.
We were confronted immediately by wildposters for the new Supreme ad campaign featuring Kate Moss (it might not actually be possible for anyone below14th Street to walk too far out the door without being similarly confronted; downtown had been carpet-bombed). Now, my thoughts regarding Ms. Moss are conflicted at best. The failed rehab; the pictures of her stumbling her way out of clubs and limos surrounded by a posse of enablers; the fact that the fashion world just turns a blind a blind eye. It bums me out. When I see a picture of her, that’s what generally governs my perception at this point.
And yet: every once in a while, I come across a new image of her that takes my breath away—and I am totally and completely fixated on this one. Forget what she’s wearing (even though it’s completely, perfectly, awesome). No model can summon you-want-to-be-as-cool-as-me with just her eyes like she can. I somehow even manage to repress my pearl-clutching instincts about the fact that she’s setting such a bad example by smoking because she looks so cool doing it (God strike me dead).
Incidentally: After completing my errand, Sammy and I crossed Houston so we could head up Stanton and through Nolita and Soho for the final leg of our trip. On Ludlow, we came across this black and white version, which somebody must have thought would read better on the gritty streets of the LES.
I adore my nephews above all others, and have worked hard to curry their devotion. First by hanging back like a cat and letting them come to me (boys will be boys, no matter what age) and then, their curiosity piqued, spoiling them within an inch of their tiny little lives. They return from visits with their Aunt Kim drunk on chocolate, high-fructose drinks, and hours of viewing the kind of television their parents find most corrosive to their development.
What they don’t always get from their Aunt Kim is attendance at their loud and sticky birthday parties. They don’t seem to mind much about this, but their parents do, and so on a recent Saturday, I took the L out to Williamsburg for a trampoline party . I’d been careful to time my arrival for the last hour—enough time to appear respectful, but only just— and was running late. When I got to Bedford and Grand, I froze for a moment in my tracks: Bird was steps away! An immediate left and I could pop in for—what?—five, minutes? Tops. A quick scan of the racks and out. But just as an alcoholic knows it will never be just one drink, I knew that five minutes meant closer to 30. So I kept on walking. Because family is family. And Bird has a fantastic ecommerce site.
A bit ambitiously priced, but I like this hippie chick top by Raquel Allegra. Especially from the back.
I have an irrational (and—given that they’d probably be more flattering for my body type than some of my current choices—counter-productive) fear of high waisted pants. But these are so elegant and wearable-looking.
How clever is this Fucci House ring?
I like these: they’re like scary-tough dominatrix heels for girls who can only handle so much drama.
This Michael Montiero print brings me more delight than words can express.
- Stevie Nicks will be making a guest appearance on Up All Night Thursday. EW‘s got a cute little clip.
- Racked New York helpfully provides a list of the top 14 sales not to miss between now and Friday. My money’s on Comptoir de Cottoniers, Tucker, and Fashion Girls for Japan.
- “Cool is the most overrated idea in fashion,” outgoing YSL designer Stefano Pilati is quoted as saying in Stylelist, earning a place in my heart forever.
- Just in time for Passover, a truly precious gift from The Daily Show, via Splitsider: Samantha Bee takes on the Park Slope Food Co-op‘s civil war over stocking Israeli products.
- Michelle Williams + Jason Segel are apparently making it happen, according to Refinery 29.
Close your eyes. Take a few deep breaths. Now try to pretend that Dara-Lynn Weiss’s baroquely misguided Vogue essay about her efforts to get her overweight daughter to lose 16 pounds never happened. Pretend that you didn’t read any of the various smart and dead-on follow-up pieces that only got you angrier.
Breathe deeper. In through the nose and out through the mouth. Because this next part won’t be easy. Think back to a time before you read that she got a book deal.
So much to love about the Spring Elizabeth and James collection. I know I’m not your target demo, but there’s a whole lot here that I can work with.
This zigzag print Frenchy/punky jacket will look so cool with skinny jeans and a slouchy-but-not-too-baggy t-shirt .
And this top exhibits an admirable mastery of precisely the kind of clean, graphic ethnic print I love so well. The stripes at the bottom make the whole thing look modern, and the fluttery sleeves are a bit more forgiving on the arms, once warm weather comes, than its sleeveless counterparts.
But I really can’t get with you on the Mullet dress.
I believe it was Carolina Herrera who said that a woman should not leave the house before checking her outfit in a three-way mirror—advice that makes a certain amount of sense, but that I nonetheless find terrifying. I’d never make it out the door. Aren’t we hard enough on ourselves when we look in the mirror?
Lately my thoughts have been veering in quite the opposite direction. I kind of want to buy a big old floor mirror like you find at every cute boutique. The ones that lean up against the wall ever so stylishly—and at the world’s most flattering angle. An in-home skinny mirror! What better way to shake the winter blues than always thinking you look just a little better than maybe you do?
Plus, really do they seem to brighten up a room.
I love the mirror in this picture. It looks glamorous and tumbledown and like it was salvaged from some ruined Newport estate. But one could scour flea markets for months before finding the perfect specimen. Instead I’m thinking of going for this similarly dramatic, but also quite simple, beveled number.
Specifically, my local Sephora, which is in in the meatpacking district and is probably the coolest Sephora anywhere (dark floors, dramatic windows, mobile checkout) as it was created specifically to blend in to its fabulous environs. And the lovely people who populate it are largely tourists, a fact I can assert with some authority, because they always make a fuss over my dog and tell me how much they miss their Goldendoodles and Labradoodles and Maltipoos back home in Miami/LA/St. Louis. Why people shop on vacation at stores that exist in their own hometowns can be a mystery but here it actually makes sense: they’ve got the world’s most beguiling display of travel-size items. Here’s what made the cut the other day as I fell in with a few ladies from Dallas.
Ages ago, my hairdresser suggested this Oscar Blandi dry shampoo as an alternative to hair powder—of which I am a total proponent: anything that allows you to push a blowout two or three days past its prime without making you look like a total dirtbag is aces in my book—but which can be messy. My fear was that it would smell all fume-y and hair-spray-ish, like similar products do, so I’d held off because a normal-sized bottle cost more than I cared to spend on a potential mistake. But but to the contrary, it’s got a delightful kind of citrusy scent and gives me way more volume than powder ever did.
Exfoliating cleanser almost never makes the cut when we’re cramming all of our beauty products into carry-on approved sandwich bags and trying to keep things minimal. But considering how effectively travel seems to bring on breakouts, this is probably worth a rethink. Kate Somerville products are actually the only ones I use on my skin—my most serious beauty splurge—and the fact that she sells her exceptionally excellent, ExfoliKate in itsy size was a happy discovery indeed.
A really, really, wee mascara of the lengthening variety, from Benefit. I mean, how can you not?