girly nonsense

With our wedding now less than two months away, it's the only thing on my mind. I'm totally obsessed. Which means that if I write anything at all, it's most likely going to be wedding-related. (Sorry!) So here's an indulgent girly post:

I was never the kind of girl who fantasized about her wedding. But I did love to dress up. I used to sneak into my mother's closet and put on her wedding dress and attached the pretty opal costume brooch that her Gramsy gave her to wear on her wedding day. I didn't dream about ballgowns or white roses or limousines, but I did covet that brooch. So one day, I snagged it from my Mum's jewelry box—and I've been keeping watch over it ever since: I too will wear it on my wedding day. (Mum, I promise I'll return it afterwards!)


So now I've been searching for some earrings to match. Hannah and I were going to make some, but when we figured out that it would be cheaper to just buy them, I went straight to Etsy (of course!) and found the perfect pair of earrings from Marie Wu designs. Here they are, aren't they lovely?? At first I felt guilty about buying them, but then Hannah reasoned that I can pass these down to my daughter on her wedding day (or at least to Sapphie if I don't have a daughter). She said: It's your wedding day, afterall! And I said, You're right! And I'm so excited about these babies:

from Russia with love

So, I'm getting married in the winter. In Vermont. What to wear?? I'll have my dress, of course, but bridal fabrics only go so far to keep a girl warm. So I've been searching high and low for a pretty winter wedding cover up—one that's not furry—that's not cheesy. Do you realize how difficult it is to find wedding garb that is not cheesy?

Originally I thought velvet. Some gorgeous mossy green capelet to cover my shoulders. But I say it again: Do you realize how difficult it is to find wedding garb that is not cheesy?

But by some stroke of luck yesterday I happened upon a wonderful designer on Etsy, who makes hand-felted wedding shrugs out of wool and silk. I know that might sound a little frumpy; a little country bumpkin. But let me tell you, these things are gorgeous and refined and not at all cheesy.

The designer's name is Tiana Agapcheva (Here's her wedding shop on Etsy). She's Russian and has studied architecture, which makes sense when you look at her beautiful designs.

Anywho, last night I was going gaga over this one particular design (you'll have to wait and see). And finally this morning I just had to splurge and order it. So now it's done and a package will be coming to my doorstep from Russia with love. All for me. A wonderful one-of-a-kind piece of art to wear on my wedding day. (Let's pray for snow!) And now I can just stop trawling those terrible cheesy wedding websites.

sunday styles

Can I just tell you how much I love the voice of Bill Cunningham? He's the gentleman who narrates and photographs the "On the Street" audio slide shows for the New York Times. His voice is the essence of old New York glamour and he has such a joie de vivre. It's hard not to smile when, in a recent show, he talks about how much money the French spend on baby fashion. And I was delighted to hear/see that sapphire blue and fuchsia (or any bright color), with an accent of black, is the freshest look for fall. We all need a little break from real news, right? Why not check out some street fashion today? (Make sure your volume is turned up!)

Watch it now: On the Street | Joie de Vivre

Here's today's slide show with pictures of fall fashion in New York City: On the Street | Windward

just another tuesday night

I'm sitting here on my couch waiting for Col to call for a ride. He's car-less this week thanks to another bit of bad luck. Couple months ago it was a snow plow that rammed into it smashing the entire passenger side frame. This time, it was a—BB gun? Apparently, according to the police who arrived at the scene, someone's been driving around town shooting at random cars and windows. Luck of lucks, Col's car was one of the three or so cars that were shot on South Union Street on Friday night. I always park in the driveway behind the house, because I'm paranoid, and Col always made fun of me for it. But not any more! We spent a good amount of time sweeping up broken glass on Saturday afternoon. I digress...

It's been a lovely evening. I went out to dinner with a coupla gals at work. We went to Three Tomatoes and all ordered entree salads. Mine had lots of roasted red peppers and portobellos and, not to be gross or anything, but it was kind of slimy and yuck. Next time I'll just stick with the pizza. The wine was good though. And the service.

After dinner we went to a pre-event at the 1/2 Lounge for the 2008 Clothes Exchange which benefits The Hicks Foundation. I donated a bumble-bee yellow Mexican sun dress and a tweed blazer. I had to save some of my other goods for another clothing swap I have next week. Tis the season!

Then Nicci and Michelle accompanied me to Brooks (it's Rite-Aid now, but I still call it Brooks) to buy fake tanner for a wedding I'm in this weekend. Still haven't put it on yet. Emi says I need to exfoliate first.

Anywho. Here I'm sitting with dish pan hands waiting for Col to call. La ti dah...

8 ways to spring up

1. Bring your Christmas tree to the compost.
2. Get rid of old clothes in your closet; Host a clothing swap.
   
3. Plant seeds in your window box.
4. Buy yourself some fake tanner.
5. Make a brunch date with someone special.
   
6. Bake Queen Elizabeth's favorite quiche.
7. Don a springtime bonnet.
   
8. Smile at the sunshine.
   

silver shoes?

Have you ever had to buy some? I was granted the task for an upcoming wedding that I'm in. I thought to myself, "No problem!" I needed some anyway, right?

Geez, I learned pretty quickly: silver shoes = tacky shoes. To be fair, I did search all over town, but the pickings were slim. So I resorted to shopping online. (I NEVER shop online. Do you?)

It felt strange at first, but then it became addictive. Scrolling through the 900 pages of search results on Zappos, adding 5 pairs to my shopping cart, taking some out, adding more, reading customer reviews, scoping out better prices at Amazon and Shoe.com. The whole ordeal sequestered a good portion of an afternoon.

Finally I narrowed it down to 3 pairs. Two pairs at Zappos and one pair at Amazon. But I wanted to try them on first! How do you do that online? Zappos has this deal where shipping is free both ways. Amazon shipping was free too. I figured, "What do I have to lose?" So I ordered all three. That was Saturday. The Zappos box was on my doorstep when I got home from work on Monday. Are they CRAZY? I immediately felt guilty when I opened the box, saw all of the unnecessary plastic wrap packaging—and the heinous shoes—and realized I'd have to ship them back right away. I couldn't even look at them; the silver glare was too great. I felt guilty about the jet fuel wasted too. Cause I know they must've thrown them on a plane to get them here so quickly.

I also realized that I'm not a very good online shopper. As quick as I was to tape the box back up together again, I did manage a hasty try-on—and both pairs were terribly, terribly small. Even though the customer comments all said they ran big. Huh?

I thought the worst was over. I could go back to my brick & mortar ways. But then I remembered: I still had a box coming from Amazon. So I was already dreading it before it came. And envisioning more cumbersome returns. The box finally came today. (Freakin' snails pace compared to Zappos!) And...

I absolutely LOVE the shoes. I'm sorry Stella, but I'm keeping these. They're not tacky, they're not blinding, they're not boring high school prom shoes. They're artful, unique and—best of all—chic. Plus the idea of having to sift through even one more metallic strappy sandal is enough to put me over the edge. But don't worry; I probably won't be doing this again any time soon...

Oh, and here's the shoe:


Photo courtesy of Amazon.com

80s prom

If you had an 80s prom to go to on Saturday night, what would you wear? It seems simple enough, but when Col and I actually had a prom to go to this weekend, I was stumped. Do I try to wear pink satin with puffy sleeves and a sweet-heart neckline? Do I go for the shimmer and glam? Or black lace and stringy hair a la Madonna in Desperately Seeking Susan? In the end, I opted for the third option, because it felt the most "me" and meant the only thing I had to buy was a pink flower for my hair. Colin went for the rock n roll look as well with black jeans, skinny tie and lots of eyeliner.

Turns out, for every guest, there was a different interpretation. Stacey, the birthday girl, wore a shimmery green prom dress and tiara. There was a Bret Michaels. A Punky Brewster. And one guy even came wearing a red leather jacket and robotic arm with Nintendo controls on it.

riding like a bond girl

This one's for L-Train: a video of me at Stowe this week-end in the hot Burton one-piece that I was testing. I felt like a rock-star.

And here are some friends we picked up along the way:

national wear red day

Today is National Wear Red Day. Why? For one, February is heart awareness month—and it's not just for men. National Wear Red Day is meant to raise awareness about heart disease risk for women—and to inspire empowerment. Read more about it at Go Red For Women. And wear red today!

die fledermaus

That's German for: "The Bat," a cheeky little puppet opera Em and I attended last night at the Flynn Space, put on by the Viva La Voce Puppet Opera. I say "little," which it was in many aspects, quite especially in size, but in others it was large and grandiose.

Based on the operetta Die Fledermaus by Johann Strauss II, the puppet show, according to the show's program, tells the story of the wealthy Gabriel von Eisenstein, a gentleman of leisure.

In 1873, the Viennese Stock Exchange collapsed on a day called 'Black Friday.' What was urgently needed was a brilliant new operetta to cheer up the Viennese bourgeoisie and console them from their depleted bank accounts. The result was Die Fledermaus, first staged in Vienna, 1874.

Also known as The Revenge of the Bat, Die Fledermaus tells the story of the wealthy Gabriel von Eisenstein, now the object of exquisite revenge after he played a prank on the respected Dr. Falke (when Falke was dressed as a bat). A forthcoming party at the eccentric Prince Orlofsky's offers the opportunity Falke has been waiting for..."

I've never been to a puppet opera before, and so I didn't know what to expect. Opera? Puppets? Well, yes and yes!

It really was an opera: the show's producer, Roxanne Vought—who I recognized from Spielpalast Cabaret, local Vermont soprano Beth Thompson, and other singers carried us through a complicated little love affair half in German half in English and sometimes in French and Italian. And even though I don't speak the language, the story and emotion were quite clear in their every sound and movement.

But for me, what really stole the show were the puppets, reigning over a brightly lit puppet stand center stage. Costume couturier extraordinaire Kathleen DeSimone really outdid herself this time. The intricate detail and fabrication was exquisite. From the expressive dresses and suits right down to the top hats, masquerade masks, and lady fans—and right back up again to the people-proportioned costumes to match their mini-alter-egos.

The show was fun, light-hearted, and witty—a satire of wealth, love, deceit, and power. It offered us both plenty of chuckles throughout the night and culminated in the fourth act with all the drunk little puppets dancing and singing in the city's prison, all the whilst downing champagne and resolving to blame it all on the bubbly. And rightly so!

name this person and you could win a free comb

Remember a while back when I wrote about the barber shop in town that displays its hair trimmings in the window? I finally got a picture last night of the bizarre goings-on in there. The hand-written sign on the man's head says, "Name this person and you could win a comb." Does anyone know who this person is? My guess is either Magnum P.I. or Richard Kiel.

off the catwalk

I've had a couple of modeling gigs lately. But it's not what you'd think!

The one last night was for a music album and entailed getting soaked in the cold rain, climbing on slimy muddy rocks in my heels behind the railroad tracks, and hearing Isaac say again and again, "Oh man, Steve's not gonna like these." I guess it was kind of fun though. This is the second time I pinch-hit it for Isaac when his model couldn't make it. The first time was a few years ago for the Colin Clary and the Magogs album.

The second gig is slightly more fun (sorry Isaac). I'm acting as a fit model for the new women's White Collection for Burton, coming out in 2008. Jesse White (Shaun's brother, who looks nothing like his brother by the way) is the designer, and he's going for a tighter, taller, more feminine silhouette for all those hip, fashionistas who don't want to dress like a dude in the snow. I got the job (through Col, I guess) because I happen to have the right body measurements for their size Medium. I'm doing it as a favor for Lorraine (she knows everything there is to know about making stuff fit the way it should) in exchange for zucchinis from her garden. Hence the chocolate chip zucchini muffins I made last month that I'm still milking out of my freezer and defrosting in my microwave one by one. Mmmm.

So, I get to stand there in the new samples, while Lorraine, Jesse, et al poke and prod until they get the details and the measurements figured out just right. That part's kind of weird, with everyone just looking at you, and it's hard to keep a straight face and be quiet like a mannequin. But they're all really nice about it and make jokes and stuff. Sometimes they ask me how the fit feels and I tell them. Then they take pictures and I change into something else.

That's all. Actually, it's kind of cool to get a glimpse of the sort of stuff Col does every day (he's a Product Manager for Burton Men's Outerwear). I saw a little bit of this when I worked at April Cornell, and it reminds me how cool it is to be involved in that kind of creative process and collaboration--even if it's somewhat removed.

a new place to buy shoes

This cooler weather we're having has reinvigorated my passion for footwear--plus it means that summer sandals are finally on sale! Thank God there's a new shoe shop in town. And I finally got the chance to check it out yesterday on my lunch break. Stella, a place to buy shoes on Church Street in Burlington, now has a second location in Shelburne Village. The selection is fabulous and I finally found some snazzy replacements for my broken flops.

bobs are hot

That's what Hannah told me yesterday when I told her over the phone about my spur-of-the-moment idea to a drastic hair cut. "Do it! They're so hot for summer." Pleased with her response, I went to Indigo and let Shelby chop off all my tendrils, before I even had a chance to think twice. She was so excited to be able to do it.

"I love you!" she exclaimed. "Bobs are the shit right now!"

That made me laugh. "Aren't you going to wash my hair first?"

"I just wanted to do that so you couldn't change your mind." An hour and a half later, I left the salon feeling chic and like a completely different person. What a change!

It's fun to get your hair cut, especially if you only do it for very special occasions.

Later last night, Colin got home from his work trip in Asia. I'm pretty sure he didn't recognize me at first. But that might just be because we haven't seen each other in a couple weeks.

A day later, and I still love it. Now, go get yourself a bob and be hot this summer!!

how to get inspired

I’m in a rut. Is it just me or does everything seem stale at this point? The fashion magazines haven’t pointed out anything I haven’t already seen within the last five years. My music tastes have reverted back to favorite oldies—somehow the sound seems fresher than what I’d heard of late. Even my favorite cooking magazine has failed to tempt with a single recipe two months in a row. I see friends I haven’t seen in ages. They ask, “so, what’s new?” I just want to roll my eyes at them. But I don’t. I just shrug my shoulders, say, “not much,” and keep on walking.

Maybe it’s just a mid-March lull—the quiet before the storm of inspiration. But why wait for inspiration? Sometimes you gotta put the effort in. And you know what? The minute I acknowledge my lack of inspiration, I realize I haven’t really been looking for it. So where to look for it?

How to go about getting inspired:

The first thing I do is think about everything that’s inspired me over the last few seasons and throw it all out. Not literally, of course. Just clear it from the mind. This new bout of inspiration has got to be really fresh.

Next I like to think about a color or a shape. Sometimes I take a shortcut and go straight to geography. If you think of a place for inspiration, the colors and shapes will come of their own accord. Think, for example, of France, the Mediterranean, Hollywood circa 1960, the English countryside, Japan, Russia. These places conjure up so much imagery, colors, and shapes. But I’ve already been inspired by these places. I want someplace that’s new to me.

What about the Nile or the Sahara desert? What about Moroccan sun? Somewhere hot with sand and a poetic tongue. Suddenly I’m thinking of shapes and colors. I’m thinking of saturated prints, bright earthy ochres, and layers of cotton voile. I’m hearing music and language so thick with sound you can almost see it floating up into the air like a snake. I’m seeing shapes loose and fluid, tight and coiled. I’m practically tasting steamy spiced stews with couscous and anisette, fresh mint tea, and everything with honey.

This is just a start. Now I’m feeling really inspired, I could go on and on. And goodness, it wasn’t any work at all!

little red riding... good?

I wore a red coat today. A long one that falls below my knees. I was amazed at the women who gave me compliments, hinged with surprise: oh what a beautiful color! how striking against the white snow. Had I discovered a new color? Or was their astonishment felt from finding beauty in my sartorial brazenness? What's the big deal anyhow?

Now, I know this much: Red is not a puritanical hue. It was indeed the poisoned red apple that put Snow White to sleep. And her voluptuous red lips that ate it. Oh sinner, Eve! It was the red letter "A" that screamed adultress to all who looked. Scarlett O'Hara. Scarlett Johansson. Oh sexy temptress! Red light district, crimson tide. Aunt Flo. Even the clean girls are never white as snow. Streetcar Named Desire? There's hidden meaning to that name, Blanche. The truth reveals a burning hot fire.

Can't I just wear a beautiful red coat without having to feel like a sinner, like Hester Prynne? And even if I were, does it really matter, oh Judges of Color, of Evil and Good? What about Rose Red. Love. What about Red Riding Hood? For that's really who I felt like today. Little girl on her way to grandmother's house. Young and playful and screaming white red.

i like the word fashion. do you?

The word fashion can be a cherry bomb. It carries within its glossy womb a hidden artillery of equally laden terms like elitist, anorexia, vanity, waste and excess.

But fashion, like any industry or ideal, has its necessary bags of good and evil. I’m an optimist and tend to see the good in it. Words such as style, inspiration, conceptual art, personal confidence, color, expression, originality, and beauty come to mind.

Anybody can and should have style. To lend excitement to every day, to inspire others with new ideas, and to give every precious moment of life the full effort and limelight it deserves.

the gymnast in me

It can be disconcerting to dig through archives from a past life. Surreal even, like when you fall upon some dark poems you wrote as a sad, misanthrope teenager (as for me, I used to quote Eleanor Rigby) or detailed sketches of vampires and emaciated creatures. Who was that girl? I look at her now and think to myself, she was trying way too hard.

Maybe I was. Or maybe I was just trying something out. Like when I did the happy hippy thing—incense, flowing skirts, and all—for a couple years in high school. Or the black leather thing during my college days in Paris. Some moments I’d just as soon forget.

But there are other glimpses of my past that afford real inspiration to the current Me. I think my best phase was one of my earliest during a time not at all documented but for in my memories and one single photo: it was the gymnast in me. Those were the days of Mary-Lou Retton. I cut my hair short just like hers and started taking gymnastics at the Y. My favorite outfit was a shiny purple leotard that I wore with red tights and a red and purple striped belt. The stretchy elastic kind that hooked together with two metal buckles. I wore it around the house with my pink Velcro sneakers. I wore it doing cart-wheels in the yard. I wore it everywhere.

Yes, sometimes digging through old photos and odds and ends can unearth some real gems. I can look at that shiny leotard picture and think, that girl had something. She’s had her pulse on the moment. She didn’t even have to try, she was ahead of her time. And you know what? You can’t see it in the picture, but I even had a rat’s tail. Those were so hot back then. And I wanted one real bad. I was 6 years old.

andy's well-dressed philosphy

"A person has to be very careful about what he's buying these days or else he'll wind up buying junk. And paying a lot for it too. So this means that if you see a well-dressed person today, you know that they've thought a lot about their clothes and how they look. And then that ruins it because you shouldn't really be thinking about how you look so much. The same applies to girls but not as much—they can care a little more about themselves without being unattractively self-interested, because they're naturally prettier. But a man caring about about how he looks is usually trying very hard to be attractive, and that's very unattractive in a man." Andy Warhol from The Philosophy of Andy Warhol (from A to B and Back Again)

I agree with you Andy, except for this: girls, er women, must try just as hard as men to be attractive. The ones who are successful are the ones who embrace their look with confidence. Confidence is the key. Confidence and intuition. For if a woman, who has the means to purchase a well-tailored, high-quality look, feels ill in her own skin, then she might as well have bought some sweatpants for five bucks. Or better yet, just stayed home. However, that scenario is rare, because women are naturally more intuitive than men. They are much less likely than men to wear a look that makes them feel like they're trying too hard in the first place. Because it just doesn't feel right. This statement might sound sexist, Andy. Possibly even feminist. I assure you that it is.

how to tie a scarf

If you know me, then you know I like to wear a scarf every single day. I feel absolutely naked without one! Keeps my neck warm and adds a wonderful splash of color to the complexion. It's got to be silk or cashmere or some other gorgeous natural fiber (cotton is my new craze). Something that feels nice on the skin.

Sometimes it seems a chore to add that final touch. But what a tragedy to let those beautiful silk squares gather dust. How to tie it and still show off your designer prints? Well I have a simple trick, shown in the photo here with my vintage colorblock Dior.

1. First, start with a square and fold the scarf on the diagonal to form a triangle.


2. Hold one end in each hand with the large point of the triangle pointing down.


3. Next wrap the scarf around your neck from the back to the front so that the two ends meet in the front. You can stop here and tie a knot in the front creating a cape-like effect. Very nice indeed! But I usually keep wrapping around to the back.


4. Finish by tying a knot at the back of your nape and then fluffing up the effect in the front. How tight or loose you wrap and tie will determine the amount of fluff you'll have to work with. Sometimes, it's nice to wrap it tight almost like a choker. But mostly, especially if it's printed silk, I like to tie it loosely and allow the beautiful patterns to drape across my chest. Don't worry if the knot works its way around. That's part of the charm.