Drive

Oh hey. It's been a while. Thing is I haven't had too many thoughts until right about now so, that's the way it's going to be, capiche? And without further ado, here's my thought: NEMESIS. We all need one. I don't care if this person knows they're your nemesis. In fact, better they don't. Just find someone you're slightly jealous of but also genuinely don't like for good reason, someone who has more than you but shouldn't. Once you've pinpointed this person, do everything you can to be better than them, to have more than them, to one day pass them on the street in all of your fabulousness and say, "Hello, Nemesis" in (fine, just for this moment) a really self-satisfied tone. I actually have two, which makes for better odds.

Oh Carine

So Carine Roitfeld is leaving French Vogue and everyone is all aflutter about it. Even people who I figured never even heard of the gal. Comedians, randos, they're all tweeting about it and calling her a fashion icon and such. I have to say I never gave much thought to Ms. Roitfeld. If I had any opinion it probably had something to do with the fact that she seems very French and very cool and like one of those people who smokes cigarettes in lieu of eating food. And thus I was slightly envious of her. But I just read this article in The New York Times (www.nytimes.com/2010/12/18/fashion/18vogue.html?src=twt&twt=nytimesstyle) which sheds a bit more light into her character and I gots to say, I like her! She's kind of like, eh, I've had enough of this corporate loop-dee-doo and why not bow out while I'm on top? She's sort of twirling her hair and thinking, "There's more to me than this. I have tons of interests. Why limit myself to one career?" It's such a modern way of thinking. And thus, without so much as lifting a finger, she makes Anna Wintour look like a dork.

Hello Oliver

Last night I was home sick (plus I have started boycotting Saturday nights in New York due to lack of cabs and overall dbaggyness) and needed a distraction. So I mosied on over to the On Demand channel and ordered myself up some "Going The Distance." Who knew, however, that I would also be getting--along with an entirely charming and witty romantic comedy--the one Oliver Jackson-Cohen (yes, that tall drink of water standing next to Drew Barrymore in a photo from I'm guessing one of the film's premieres). EXCUSE ME but where the hell has this guy been all of my life? Well, for approx 6 years of it, looks like he wasn't even born, but that's a minor detail. Minor detail! And did I mention he's English? We're talking tall (I have seen Drew Barrymore in person and if she's wearing monster heels and standing next to him and he's still significantly taller, this guy is at least 6'2") with a British accent. I'll humor you with another shot of OJC just for kicks:

He plays the tragically underused role of a random bartender in the movie, but every single time he popped up on screen I was like, oh excuse me HELLO. Pause. Rewind! And my sister is reading this right now, shaking her head and going, "Of course she likes that guy. Of course she does."

Bespoke

Writing has always been second nature to me. And being a writer seemed cooler than being an accountant or a marketing exec. So, there you go. I've tried to write in a "serious" manner but that usually ends up one of two ways, epically bad or not serious at all. The thing is, no matter what I do, I can't help but throw a bit of humor into the mix. Because what's the point if you're not laughing, right? Which brings me to celebrated non-writer and all-around wit Fran Lebowitz. I don't know much about her to be honest. I haven't read Lebowitz's book of essays "A Metropolitan Life," but after watching the new documentary about her, Martin Scorcese's "Public Speaking," it's next on my list. What I gleaned from this doc is she's a rebellious, outspoken, opinionated, intellectual, at times insufferable, character with a capitol "P" Point-of-View. A real broad. And there's really nothing I like more than a real broad. Besides peanut butter. And Clive Owen. Check out the documentary if you can (it's on HBO). Watching it is like hanging out with the coolest, most original person you've ever met. Truly one-of-a-kind.

Black Swan

Yo. Did you know that there are ACTUAL black swans? I googled "Black Swan" thinking I was going to get Natalie Portman looking all vampy and red-eyed in her movie makeup, and instead there are all these nature images of black swans, which I found infinitely more interesting of course. Although not as interesting as black squirrels (holla!). So anyway the point being I saw the movie the other night. I actually attended the premiere because sometimes I finagle my way into situations that I have no right being a part of, which is fun for me and probably less so for others. The movie is a total trip and jump-out-of-your-seat creepy. I loved it! In spite of the fact that Natalie looks constipated the entire time. I imagine I would too if I was only eating seven almonds and a container of cottage cheese each day. But definitely see it. And also Chace Crawford and Sebastian Stan were at the after-party and they disappeared into a secret unattended room with some ladies which I guess is what young pretty actors do, isn't it? I found myself wondering about their lives. When they're not memorizing lines (which is just studying, right? It's like a career of studying), they probably go to movie premieres approx five nights a week, hang out with other celebrities and peripheral celebrity people and look for unattended rooms.

Free Widsom

I'm going to break the mold a little bit for my commemorative 200th (!!!) post and start a new feature on this blog: Free Widsom. I am often privy to some pretty ridiculous people, who typically have no idea how ridiculous they are (which makes for some of the most successful comedic moments in my opinion. See: Johnny Drama of "Entourage") and I'm not always sure how to share these people, or the things they say and do, with the world. But really, it's important to put ridiculous people in their place. And what better, more anonymous, free-from-repercussions place than a blog? So to kick off the new Free Wisdom feature I'll share a little story via a good friend of mine, V. V was at a rather "exclusive" affair with a friend and her friend's fiance last weekend, the fiance being a known Dbag of catastrophic proportions. And by exclusive I really just mean waspy and old money, which isn't all that exclusive when it comes down to it. It's more...guilty by association. You don't have to be even slightly interesting or accomplished in your own right to hang out with these people as long as your dad went to Princeton with so-and-so's dad and you happen to have a house in Newport and are generally a racist. You know, run-of-the-mill wonderful qualities. I've met Fiance once or twice and he is an odd bird. He's strangely obsessed with "status" and stupid social-type stuff to the point of being kind of creepy American Psycho about it. Like, I imagine he daydreams about murdering Muffy Potter Aston and keeping her stuffed and mounted corpse in his study. So they're all at this party and Fiance looks around (most likely with a smug expression on his face) and says, out loud, to V, "Wow, you're basically chopped liver if you weren't invited to this party." Which is a stupid thing to say in general, but doubly so in the context. Sometimes I think God saves me (and people like Fiance) from being in the same place at the same time, because if I had been within earshot of that comment I would most likely be scribbling this post on a piece of paper from my jail cell.

All Right

"The Kids Are All Right" is a sweet-looking film that came out last summer and got great reviews. I really wanted to see it in the theatre but the stars did not align, or something. So instead I watched it last night on demand because I was still hungover from Sunday Funday and really could not fathom doing anything else besides eating [too much] thai food and watching a movie that I would probably, most definitely enjoy. I was not disappointed. "Kids" is one of the smartest films I've seen all year, featuring funny, at times heart-wrenching performances from the entire cast. Mark Ruffalo plays sperm donor Paul, who comes into the lives of an "unconventional" family...ya know, Nic (Annette Bening) and Jules (Julianne Moore) are lesbanims and they have two kids together. So restaurant owner/hostess schtupper Paul comes around on his motorcycle looking all unshaven and talking about sustainability and, let's just say, stirs the pot a bit. I thought there was something so real and so yummy about this film. I also think Annette Bening should be nominated for her performance and hope it doesn't get lost in the big budget Oscar campaign shuffle. Catch it if you can!

Executive Decision

Last nite I was at a charity event and two people happened to be seated at our table without our knowledge. Fine. They weren't happy with their seats and wanted to sit next to each other. Fine. I tried to work it out, but at the end of the day we couldn't. So anonymous person 1 and anonymous person 2 (who, I must say, are not that anonymous in real life if you know what I mean) decided to give me the stink eye, ignore me and talk over me in order to get to the person next to me, who happened to be an It Girl type, in other words, someone who anonymous 2 wanted to suck up to. I know It Girl very well. She is one of my favorite people. She was nice and gracious to anonymous 2 who was having what I like to call a "true colors" moment. #2 did not know who I was and didn't care. If she had known, she might have been nicer. The point being, she's apparently only nice to people who she deems "worthy" of her attention for one reason or another. Wow! That's unfortunate, isn't it? I wonder how people get to that place. Either way, life is too short. So after listening to #2 blabber on about how fabulous she is and suffering through snotty looks across the table from #1, It Girl and I moved seats as subtly and quickly as possible, leaving both parties slightly shocked and appalled. Whatever. I imagine other people would just sit there and put up with their crap. Not I, sir! Not I.

Yup

The above statement is familiar territory in Jeannie Bueller land. Thank you, Forever 21, for summing it up on a t-shirt. No thank you, people, who contribute in one way or another to the familiar territory situation.

More

And of course, the incomparable Rayanne Graff. How cool was this girl? I'm trying to remember if she wore knee-high Doc Martens and even if she didn't I'm pretty sure she would have.

The Ultimate

Now I'm having a 90's teenage moment. How beautiful was he? My first crush, laying the groundwork for many spurned simple, nice guys from good families to come.

Sass

As an awkward, angst-ridden teenager in the 90's, I was weaned on a steady diet of River Pheonix, Pearl Jam, "My So-Called Life" and Sassy magazine. Lots of peeps love Sassy and still talk about it, years and years since it went the way of most original, thought-provoking things (much like River and "My So-Called Life," come to think of it). So. It's interesting to hear that Jane Pratt, matron saint of Sassy and one of the main reasons I weasled my way into the magazine industry, is teaming up with this precocious, outsidery Tavi chick of stylerookie.com to start a Sassy-inspired magazine. I will of course be one of the first people to pick it up and see how they manage to reinvent the wheel. I hope others do too.

Villa Pacri

One of the seven people who reads this blog regularly is a dear friend of mine whose father happens to own a home in St. Barths. She's not only legit one of the coolest, smartest, most level-headed people I know, she's also the reason I get to go St. Barths every couple of years and stay in a crazy amazing house. Time to pinch myself. Anyway, when I heard this newish meatpacking venue Villa Pacri was the NYC rendition of a St. Barths restaurant, I had to go, because I love myself some SB (for the record, I have never been during P. Diddy "high" season and don't plan on it...it can be charming and low key and wonderful minus the hoopla). I sat at the bar, drank some champagne and munched on yummy bruschetta. The crowd was Euro but isn't that how we like it? I'll def go back. Not to mention, there's a sweet loungey spot below ground level. Something for everyone.

Sparkle

Had to show the skirt. Adorbs, no? ($49.50, gap.com). Wear it to work and act all nonchalant about it.

Pantsing

In case you haven't noticed, Gap is stepping it up a notch. I own several styles from their premium pant collection and the "boy fit" is my favorite by far. The leg is a bit tapered and they manage to look both fashiony and flattering, which is quite the feat. The above "tuxedo stripe" version of the boy fit is new ($69.50, gap.com) and I'm loving it. There's also a new sequin skirt that's worth snatching up asap.

Love Letter

God I love Pink. And her new single "Raise Your Glass" is awesome. There are two kinds of people in this world, those who do as they're told, as they "should" and those who ask questions and take a different route. Or even go as far as to forge their own path. Pink is definitely the latter.

Le Cinema

I have a love/hate relationship with the French. They are an exasperating and haughty and slippery people, but they are also infinitely cooler and more stylish and more charming than I'll ever be. Have you ever seen a French woman in red lipstick? A French woman wears red lipstick like a model wears clothes. Better than you ever will. And the men, while often a bit wee and--let's face it--devious beyond your wildest dreams, are swoon-worthy. Romain Duris, for one, star of a sorta cute little film I watched last night called "Heartbreaker" and pictured above, is pretty much what you're gonna get if you look up "Frenchman" in the dictionary. Dior Homme suit, mussed up hipster hair, five o'clock shadow. Bad, cigarette-stained teeth that are somehow charming. I was lukewarm on this film. It was a tad bleh and also not even slightly realistic, not that a romantic comedy should be, but come on. Give us some credit is basically what I was thinking the entire time. If anything the jokes were funny because they were French people trying to be funny, referencing random American movies and pop music. There was even a small cameo by what I would imagine the French deem the "typical" American woman, a 6'1" blonde Paris Hilton Amazon in a rainbow Herve Leger. Not meant to really be funny as much as it was meant to say...zee Americans, so big and so dumb. But worth a look, and I hear they're making an American version actually. So hopefully it will feature a cameo of a rail-thin pixie with dirty hair and a perma-frown. Oh snap!

Lovely

This is another Oasis find ($248, oasis-stores.com).

Those Brits

I was flipping through the December issue of Lucky magazine today and I came across this skirt, which has my name written all over it. What. You don't see it? Invisible ink, alright? Invisible ink! And there in the little credits box is a website called oasis-stores.com which I immediately went to in order to ponder over purchasing said skirt and then quickly realize the last thing I should be doing is purchasing another skirt. The point being, Oasis! Does anyone know Oasis? It's a totally underrated UK chain that has continually played second fiddle to Top Shop because it is not quite as flashy and trendy. BUT. It is amazing. And who knew they were now throwing us Americans a bone via a somewhat questionably-designed website! This is very good news. Even though I do not need another skirt.

Meow

I hate cats. Which is funny, seeing as I am often described as "catlike," my mother's nickname for me is "pussycat" (there is no good reason for this) and an old boyfriend once remarked that cats and I kind of have "a thing." When I asked him what he meant by that, he said, "I don't know. I feel like cats look at you and they'e like, 'Oh, hello.'" So. When I came across this t-shirt on Forever 21 ($12.90, forever21.com) I was also kind of like, "Oh, hello." Cats are little biatches but with a pair of sparkly red spectacles they are suddenly...chic? And, unlike the entire cat population, I never met a three-quarter-length sleeve I didn't like. Sold!