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!

Preferences

And one more for good measure. Leo! That's what I call a big star. He's been everywhere in New York lately, lunching with Baz Luhrmann at Cafe Gitane, wearing some sort of scary wolf mask at the Soho House Halloween party. You know, creeping up on models like a Victoria's Secret boy short. Point being, dude's out and about. Which brings me to a few weeks ago, when I found myself at a club called Avenue at around 1:30 a.m., sardine-stuffed with the rest of the idiots onto a tiny dance floor drinking a $25 vodka soda. Fyi, I'm not the kind of girl who typically goes to "the club." Never have been. Give me a Guinness, a dive bar, a dirty dance floor and an amenable DJ and I'm good to go. But what can I say? Sometimes you just have to follow your friends to Avenue and be miserable about it. So as I was planning my escape, there was suddenly a buzz in the air. A je ne sais quoi. And before we could say, "unnecessary baseball cap and bad jeans," in walks Leonardo Dicaprio, flanked by some sort of bodyguard and bona fide solo, no less. The most interesting part of the equation is that he did not disappear into some VIP room where he could get his creep on in the privacy of his own...VIP room. No. He proceeded to stand on top of a banquet bordering the dancefloor and survey the room, swaying back and forth every now and then. Rather harmlessly, I might add. It just seemed curious to me. Here I was, a nobody, and Avenue was pretty much the last place I wanted to be. But Leo Dicaprio...he could probably be sharing a vintage scotch with Bob De Niro that very moment in Bob De Niro's apartment, no less and instead he's like, "Nah, I think I'll take the banquet dancing at Avenue. Hand me another $25 vodka soda, will ya? Extra lime."

Hmmm...

Speaking of celeb sightings, I happen to live in a celeb-heavy neighborhood and probably pay $300 more per month than I should because of it/have zero closet space/a mini-fridge, but I like it that way. Because celebs make the world go round, don't they? They make life worth living. If anything, they certainly make NYC a more tolerable place to live, and this is coming from a person who wouldn't live anywhere else besides NYC unless that place was LA January through April. I don't usually write about my celeb spottings, because they are plentiful (evil cackle), but I think I'm going to start because they are also kind of amusing and eye-opening. You know all of those photos of Hugh Jackman tooting around on his razor scooter? Yeah? Well he and his daughter almost ran me over the other morning on Bleecker Street whilst I was just trying to walk my dog. Solid sighting, if I do say so myself. But the best is the followup. A few days later I'm stopped at the same corner next to his "wife" and daughter (no Hugh as far as the naked eye could see) and the wife is chatting along with the daughter in her native thick Australian accent. "We're going to Hugh's house because he has a backyard," she says, nonchalantly, and the daugher kind of nods her head, tantalized as she should be by the backyard. And then I'm thinking, "Wait. Hugh's house? Don't they live together? Minor detail, but why do they call him Hugh?" And I'll just leave you with those thoughts because they are provoking, aren't they?

Random

Last night I was minding my own business eating shrimp and grits at a lovely new restaurant in my neighborhood called Lowcountry (photo above, West 10th and Greenwich Ave-try it, it's about as good as a West Village gem can get) and in walks Josh Lucas which is fortuitous seeing as I wrote about him on this blog like a month ago. Now, being me I glanced at him as he walked by and thought something like, "Cute, but a little short. Too bad." and then moved back to my shrimp and grits, not really making the connection and anyway my eyesight is not what it used to be. But then he was seated at a table next to me and he started talking and let me tell ya my ears basically bitch-slapped my eyes and said, "Wake the hell up! That's Josh effing Lucas!" I mean we all know the voice is good, but in person it's melodious. Someone ought to be paying that man just to talk to them every day.

Brain Candy

One of the unfortunate things about getting older is the boys keep getting younger. Or fortunate? Let's try to see the glass half full here. Anyway at 24 the above Andrew Jenks, star and executive producer of his very own show on MTV, is probably a wee bit young for a sophisticated woman such as myself. I imagine if we were hanging out I might, at some point, make a reference to "90210" and he would say something about Annalynne McCord and then there would be an awkward moment because I was thinking more along the lines of Shannen Doherty and good god why am I on a date with a 24-year-old? My point being, he's adorbs isn't he? The jist of his show is he spends a week (or so) with a person who is very different from himself and through the process of understanding and open-mindedness, he finds a common ground with whoever this person may be, so adorbs with a heart and a mind at that. Also, I like his hair.

Split Personality

The fact that one day I had decided to be Betty Draper for Halloween (and was feeling pretty philosophical about it) and the next I had scrapped the Betty Draper idea for the above Reno 911 "Lt. Dangle" costume pretty much sums it up.

Shore Thing

At some point in the beginning of the second season of "Jersey Shore," I was watching an episode with my sister and I had a moment of frightening clarity. I realized that, if plied with copious amounts of alcohol and then presented with the opportunity, there is a 75% chance that I would hook up with castmember "DJ" Pauly D. In the moments that followed that realization, I of course had to do an in-depth psychological analysis of myself. For one, the man is definitely on Valtrex. For two, there is a good chance a single strand of his hair would bruise me. But I watched the season finale last night and you can't escape the fact that there is something charming about the little sucker, even when he is screaming in tongues from the depths of a gurgling hot tub. Like all of the other castmembers, he operates on pure intuition and by intuition I mean sex drive. But there's something a bit diamond in the rough about him, such as, if he was sequestered in a room for the rest of his life with access to only one attractive woman who speaks in full sentences, he might be completely content. Also, I have a thing for tattoos. So there's that.

Desperate Housewife

When I was a little girl, I begged my mother for store-bought Halloween costumes, the kind that all the other kids are wearing that came in a plastic bag and fastened with a string at the base of the neck. I found something so simple about them, so convenient. And of course I wanted to be like everyone else. But each year my mother insisted I push the boundaries a bit, go for the unexpected. So in other words ALL of my costumes were homemade and, looking back, they were awesome. I will spare the details, but one year I was a bag of groceries which consisted (mainly) of a large cardboard box with a hole cut in the top for my head. These days, I still try and get creative, but it's more about discovering an alter ego, a personna that, while it doesn't come naturally, might be fun for a night. This year it's Betty Draper (see the inspirational dress above, courtesy of modcloth.com), which is (I hope) about as far from my actual personality and (I know) personal style as you're gonna get. So fun to play dress up.

Well Heeled

I'm gonna go ahead and coin a new fashion term here: the bumpie. A "bumpie" would be the combination between a bootie and a pump, a slightly more covered heel, if you will. I know there's something flying around the internets called the "shootie" but I'm not so sure I'm sold on that one. Shoe + bootie sounds like it's one step above a Converse high top in my opinion. Like a jodphur. Or an ankle-height loafer. In other words, not cute. The above bumpie is from Loeffler Randall ($475, loefflerrandall.com) which is a genius brand for several reasons, not in the least of them being that they know a mid-height heel needn't look geriatric. I love this shoe, excuse me, bumpie. It takes the frumpy secretary out of the pump without trying too hard.

The Don

So how are we feeling about Don Draper these days? Me, not so much. I've never been a huge fan. Mad Men, like. Don? Next. Although I don't think we're really supposed to truly like Don now, are we? Unless we're an emotionally unstable female with daddy issues or Scott Disick. That said, his arc as of late has been exhausting to say the least. Up and down, up and down, back to square one, up and down, seemingly no growth. Even the slightest moment of clarity is basically imperceptable and at the end of the day we're left feeling like this one is a lost cause so why follow him around with puppy dog eyes eh? He's like that guy who keeps making plans and then spacing on them, and then sending ridiculously terse text messages at inappropriate hours (YOU KNOW WHO YOU ARE) that basically mean nothing at the end of the day. And it's all kind of like, blah, shall we move on to someone with a backbone and a set? I think we shall.

Commentary

About a week ago I was out with a friend from college. We kind of blindly grazed from bar to house party to bar, looking for something of interest but never really having our thirst quenched. In other words, a typical night as a single woman with half a brain cell in New York. We ended up at a place down the street from me that--let's face it--I frequent, and from across the bar, I received a text: "Jeanie it's me, blankety blank, across the bar," it said. Except her name is not blankety blank. It's more like something that rhymes with Verica, so let's just call her Kerica. So Kerica, who is a person I have zero interest in randomly running into for no apparent reason beyond the fact that she's a vortex of suckage, mosied over to our side of the bar with her sidekick Bertha, who was a tall, stout, rather jolly woman. I started conversing with Bertha as a means of NOT conversing with Kerica, and Kerica conversed with my poor friend, who is nicer and more tolerant than I. After leaving, my friend mentioned that Kerica expressed concern about Bertha conversing with me and all, seeing as Bertha is a slap-happy kind of gal and I am (she used this word) "cynical." I found this amusing, not only because it's true, but because Kerica used this word as an insult, whereas I found it to be rather complimentary. So I just laughed and shook my head, rather un-cynically. And Kerica can suck it.

Filthy Josh

Josh Lucas is a rare, rare species of man. He's got that kind of rough-around-the-edges but still pretty-to-look-at crinkly eye quality born of the great Paul Newman. If he broke his nose five times he would probably get even better-looking. When he talks it sounds like what honey running over gravel would sound like if it made a sound. And phew! Where was I? He is (curiously) in this new Katherine Heigl movie and was on Jimmy Fallon last night promoting it. His main reason for being in the movie is this: "I have always had a crush on Katherine Heigl." This reason of his is both points off and points gained in my book. Points off because she seems "trying" as a person to say the least and points gained because I happen to also be tall and blond and, well, let's be honest here, also "trying" as a person. So this crush of his bodes well for me! And really there is no other good reason for him to be in a Heigl movie other than some sort of carnal motivation. Were he to say, "The script was phenomenal," I would have myself a new slot to fill on the virtual bedpost of Jeanie Bueller, upon which Clive Owen holds the top slot and Seth Meyers is coming in at a close second. Anyway, the other point I should have made within the first three sentences is that Josh is an entrepreneur! Yes. And not just any entrepreneur, an entrepreneur with a dirty mind, which makes me like him that much more, if that's even possible. Seems he helped invent some sort of drink accoutrement called the "Filthy Pickle," which is an olive stuffed with a mini pickle and is about as "suggestive" in both name and image as any drink accoutrement could be (outside of a maraschino cherry pierced by a tiny plastic sword, of course). Nudge nudge, wink wink Josh!

Recap

Some people are talking about the season premiere of SNL today. I was going to say, "A lot of people are talking about the season premiere of SNL" but I'm not so sure that's true. I think my sister and I are talking about it. And maybe three other people on the internet. Anyway, let me preface this post by saying as anyone who reads this blog knows, I have a dear place in my heart for SNL. It is rarely funny, but it is allowed to be rarely funny because it's SNL, and because Seth Meyers. So what I will say is this: Amy Poehler is a national treasure. I kind of want to chug beers with her and pet her perfect doll hair. I could do without Tina Fey and all the bitter she brings. I'll probably be unpopular for saying that but go watch "Date Night" or something, aiight? The tiny skit with Justin Timberlake and Andy Samberg gets five gold stars and an A+++ in my grading system. Patterson: thumbs up! Thanks for being a good sport. The rest I could do without. But isn't that SNL in a nutshell? How did I get in this nutshell?

Wall Flower

Paz de la Huerta. What do we think about this broad? I spied her in the flesh at a charity event last week, during which she wore the above dress, and I am perplexed. There are several other photos of her from the same event, posing in a way that not only makes her look pregnant, but also like she has scoliosis and a mild case of "I think I am a seahorse." I read the NY mag article about her a few months back, and I think it took me a few days to recover. It's not really the overt sexuality and shock value of her shenanigans (please, if you can, just read the first paragraph of said article. It involves a steamhouse, construction workers and raw honey). It's more...oh, who the hell knows. From what I can tell, it seems like she grew up in affluence but maybe did not get a lot of attention. So to give it to her, eh.

Weather Proof

Speaking of Steve Madden, their "Tsunami" style rain boot ($79.95, stevemadden.com) is another recent discovery via the pages of Marie Claire and I likes. You can't tell from this photo but they zip up the back with an Hermes-orange zipper, which is a detail to die for. They make me want to wear riding pants and a huge cable knit sweater and drink hot apple cider, which is typically the opposite of what I want to do, unless the apple cider is spiked.

Interesting

I was drawn to anntaylor.com today because I spied a pair of leopard flats in the October issue of Marie Claire and I was like, "Oh, hello there." So there I went and perused the website and let me just say, Ms. Taylor has managed her comeback quite nicely, even minus the help of Naomi Watts and her flaxen, flawless dye job. I'm not talking anything super directional here. In fact, the flat pictured above ($158) is probably about as spicy as you're gonna get chez Ann. That said, the entire shoe collection reads like a laundry list of must-haves, the leather appears sumptuous and the prices, while a bit above your average Steve Madden, are reasonable at the end of the day. I say, well done.

Lady Red

It's tough to do a red dress well, and flattering, and tasteful. This little number ($119, courtesy of Rachel Rachel Roy, www.rachelroy.com) just landed in my hands as of yesterday and it does not disappoint. Gonna pair it with some cage heels kinda like the ones seen above (shocker!).

Nail It

I am a nail polish fiend because a great polish is the cheapest, easiest, most creative way to push boundaries and express your inner freak. For instance, braided sandals with a greige toe. Black and grey color scheme with a pop of unexpected poppy on the fingers, and so on. I'm currently on the lookout for a new source of nail inspiration and I'm having a hard time finding it. Which has got me to thinking...when in doubt, reference the classics. And I have to say Revlon corners the market in this category. Above is Plum Night, from their 2009 fall collection, which is still sold at my local Duane Reade and, come to think of it, I should start stock-piling it now. Perfection. Cherries In The Snow is another Revlon go-to, which I think my mom has been wearing since the 70's and still looks fresh and spunky as ever.

WTF

I'm not sure who started this whole "my skirt is two inches to short and an inch too small in circumference" trend. It was either Kelly Bensimon or Blake Lively. I like to think it was Blake and that Kelly followed suit, you know, desperately grasping at her lost California babe Blakeness circa 1983, but I think Kelly may have been doing this SINCE 1983, long before anyone was paying attention, so let's just go with Kelly. But either way this frightening nonexistent hemline epidemic has infected Heidi Klum as is clearly illustrated in the above photo from the Emmys. A lot of questions run through my head when I see a shot like this, such as: Is her evening bag one of those really large, flat "envelope" sizes so that when she inevitably sits down she can place it over her thighs so that her entire crotch isn't exposed under the lights of the Nokia Theatre? And, when she was having this dress specially tailored/made to fit her body, did she specifically turn to the designer and say, "Just cut it right above the thickest part of my leg. Yes, right there, just below the seam of my Hanky Pankys. As much inner thigh exposed as possible. Exactly." Because I'm pretty sure that's a direct quote.

Blue Jean

I don't think denim shirts have had a real "moment" since the 1970's so it's about time. I love this style from J. Crew. At $98 it's a bit pricey, but the details and finish are so perfect, it's worth skipping one Thursday dinner reservation.

You See

There is good, and then there is very, very, very good.

American Morning

As much as I am a sucker for fashion, art is the real deal for me. Those studded Loubs are genius, but this Poppy de Villeneuve print (aceditions.com) is approximately the same price and hands down the way to go in my opinion. Reminds me of a dreamy early morning drive, staring out the window from the backseat.

Perfection

As if you couldn't already tell, I have been in a bit of a daydreamy/consumery mode the last couple of weeks. I keep thinking, if I had X amount of money, I would buy X. And if I had XX amount of money, I would buy XX. If I had $1895 in the sense of having, oh, a spare $1895...the first thing I would buy is these shoes (Duh, Christian Louboutin, net-a-porter.com). When I came across these on the internets a few moments ago, I think my heart seized and then burst into flames.

Magic Carpet

So now that Step Up 3D completely erased my brain and I have basically been walking around speaking in tongues for the last five days, I am back to thinking about decorating my new apartment. You see, decorating can be an expensive undertaking, especially when you are me. I've been (about to bust out some 90's-era slang here so bear with me) sweating the above rug from Twinkle Living for about a year now and at 8'X8' it is probably larger than my entire apartment, but it is so (80's-era Ferris slang) choice.

This

Is all I have to say about "Step Up 3D."

Hey Hey

I guess when I am feeling drained, I prefer to talk about pretty things, such as fashion and design and decorating and...luggage. I recently got off a flight from Paris and was standing next to one of those Traina girls waiting for my luggage. I couldn't help but notice that, not only was she maybe 5 pounds, but she was also so head-to-toe chic and let's just say, in comparison I was feeling like a schlump. Not that we have the same budget but what really made her travel ensemble was the carry-on, a sort of shiny black piece similar to the one I just purchased above from Heys (http://www.heysusa.com/). Definite upgrade from my ratty red Target number I've been lugging around for like five years.

Sweet Dreams

Such as, take a moment to behold this bed (www.zgallerie.com). If I had a bed like this, Seth Meyers would be in it.

Grey Days

Hi all. My creativity is currently being drained out of me like an orange slammed into a juice-maker, so apologies for the lack of posts. I was inspired to fyi about these sheets (www.zgallerie.com) because I want them and technically can't afford them and thus must be reduced to posting about them. Also I would decorate my entire apartment via that website if I had an extra $6k to blow on furniture and accoutrements. It's like if Old Hollywood got a dusting off and a shot of awesome.

Empty Shell

And while we're on the subject of MTV reality shows where nothing ever happens and that is the whole point, might we discuss a one Ms. Olivia Palermo? We might. First and foremost, I have experienced OP in person and she is a very pretty lady. She has dynamite style and the kind of clothes hanger figure that can really pull off anything with a zipper and a yard of fabric, so kudos to her. But what is her problem? If I ran into Erin Kaplan somewheres, even if she was minding her own business at Starbucks and shot me one of those death stares, I would definitely seize the opportunity and ask her, point blank: WTF is up with Palermo? Is she for reals? Does she exist? Is she (pray to the heavens) just reading lines? And I would hope that EK would give me a straight answer, because I am mystified. I have come across a lot of shallow, pointless, soulless people in my life, but good god. She makes Paris Hilton look like Gloria Steinem.

Update

I was talking to a friend the other day about Justin Bobby, of "The Hills" fame, who I've clearly posted about before. But it's time for an update. Because, you see, this friend and I now agree that we would definitely sleep with Justin Bobby many times over if given the chance. He's the bad boy that rides in on his motorcycle and rescues you from your controling parents as your poodle skirt sways back and forth in the wind. The leader of the pack, if you will. He never says anything of any consequence, although he creates the illusion of consequence. If Justin Bobby and I were having a conversation about the state of our relationship, I would say, "Justin Bobby, where are things going? What do you want from me?" and he would say, "Jeanie, you've got to let life carry you, like a wind current. It's all up to the fates and every season brings a new discovery." And I would say nothing, because his turquoise blue eyes are spinning like little tops of hypnosis and is he really pulling off harem pants and army boots with no laces? Yes, yes he is.

Peoples Person

So I struggled over the the whole white Ray Bans conundrum for some time. I pretty much kept them in my drawer and gazed at them every once in a while. A few times I took them out and put them on and was immediately jarred by my appearance. I then decided that it wasn't necessarily the extreme coolness of the white Ray Ban, but moreso the borderline hokeyness of the subway map on the inside of the Ray Ban that didn't settle right with me. And white Ray Bans with black insides are nowhere to be found minus Ebay which gives me a brain cramp. And such. So then I went on a search for a solution, and low and behold I stumbled over the Oliver Peoples Daddy B style, seen above on Jay-Z and more recently seen on ME. I am not-so-secretly jumping up and down inside knowing that I own the same pair of sunglasses as Jay-Z, mind you, but regardless they are pretty darn amazing. I have always been a fan of Peoples shades because they somehow manage to look expensive and bad-a$$ minus the garish logo. So I am happy as a clam.