In case you were wondering: Who pays

I have to say I'm surprised that /wardrobe/, and /whoever makes more pays/ (which may or may not correlate to /male genitalia pays/) didn't get more play. Love that 2% recognize /Girls don't need to be logical/ - goddess knows I'm not known for it.

Whomever asks should pay should have made a better showing, better even than dutch, imho. Ladies? Anyone?

Gawker

Lessons in Cultural Competency: You say tomato

I say solicitor.

I got an email today that I thought was referring to someone's attorney, when in fact it was referring to an individual who was asking a donor for a gift. Of course, I was in the middle of a conversation with my super-boss when I realized my mistake.

I believe the exact quote was, "Oh, wait, you don't call them that here, do you?" Reminds me of the time I said Javex in front of 200 kids when referring to bleach.

And yes, it will have been 11 years next month. Bollocks.

Shuesday: Good day sunshine

It's supposed to be 85 degrees tomorrow, but I won't go back to sandals or white after Labour Day. I won't. We're going to play it simple this week. I had a Nanette Lepore pump with a delightful bow on the back in mind, but then I realized it had a stupid mini-peep toe on the front, so I cast it aside.

Sometimes size does matter.

It's still too early for boots, but it is back to school time, so let's go with a pair of argyle patterned flats. Let's be clear - I would never pay $200 for a pair of flats, but these are adorable, and if you're on your parents' dime ...

Wear it with those silly bright tights that are all over the pages of Vogue this month, if you must.

Everything old is new again

If you're in the mood to feel your age, and you remember 90210, and liked it, I have good news. Gossip Girl is here. If The OC was any guide, it should be better written, and have a better soundtrack. But it's still the story of the new kids (swap Minnesota for Brooklyn - for some of my fellow Islanders, Brooklyn might as well as be another state), interacting with the upper, Upper East Siders, who wear designer clothes and drink dirty martinis and are 16 going on 26 ... or 36, in some cases.

And it's good. It's very, very good.

But I'm calling them out on their white, white cast. Unacceptable.

Hold on, hold on to yourself

for this is going to hurt like hell.

Fortunately, it appears that being a feminist doesn't mean we have to be impervious* to the swirling world around us. At least according to Katha Pollitt:

Just because you are part of a social-justice movement, which is how I think of feminism, that doesn’t mean you are some brick wall of impermeable stalwartness in every area. Feminism, for me, is not about presenting a facade of perfect strength to the world.

I wonder if she makes house calls.

Woman's Studies [NYT]

* note definition b:

Oh the places you'll go: Chicago (again)

I know, I know, you're getting bored with the whole midwest thing. I promise the next trip is going to be way more exciting. Here's a hint. Or two. (It's a two part, ten day event.)

In the meantime, Chicago was lovely - it's really growing on me. The flight was good, if early, the hotel was fun, provided you're not anti-French. (I do like a separate bathtub for soaking.) I visited the Museum of Contemporary Art Tuesday afternoon, enjoying an Alexander Calder exhibit, and their 40 year retrospective, including the Other Vietnam Memorial.

A preliminary sketch of his Other Vietnam Memorial foresaw a "list of three million Vietnamese killed during the US involvement in Vietnam"; it would be on "Copper pages, hinged on [a] central pole," and could be turned by viewers. In the catalogue prepared for a 1992 exhibition of The Other Vietnam Memorial at the Museum of Modern Art, Burden is quoted as saying, "I just thought somewhere there should be a memorial to the Vietnamese that were killed in the war. So I wanted to make this book, sort of like Moses' tablet, that would be an official record of all these three million names. I would suspect that we will be lucky if we get twenty-five percent of the names; other ones would be nameless, basically faceless, bodies. . . . I want the size of the sculpture . . . to reflect the enormity of the horror." The result is a memorial statistically impressive in its numbers, at the cost of making actual sense. In order to register three million casualties, Burden took a catalogue that contained four thousand Vietnamese names, transformed them into verbal integers, and designed a computer-generated permutation of them.

It was beautiful, and moving.

The rest of the visit was the usual blur of meetings, meals, and conference calls. We hit Vermilion for delish cocktails and Latin/Indian fusion food - it was actually quite good - one night, and finally made it to Pizza Due for deep dish. Next time, we'll check the pizza more carefully when it arrives, as this one was loaded with unwelcome 'shrooms.

I forgot I would be battling Friday afternoon traffic on the way to the airport, and missed my original flight, but they booked me on the next one without a hitch. The young man who had to get out of his aisle seat bumped his head hard on the luggage rack getting up, and then proceeded to do absolutely nothing for the entire flight. I take it back, he ordered and consumed a Dr. Pepper. I /read/ my 842 page September Vogue.

Hot spot

The East Village is getting more than its share of attention from The Times these days, with a walk down Avenue M(emory) last week, and this week, by all means, come for the weekend!

I don't know about you, but I like my tourists in Soho, where I can see them, and still get away when I need to. And the piece starts with the latest upstart hotel, followed by ... a /rubber stamp store/?!

Whom, exactly, are we encouraging to visit our fair city, scrapbookers from the flyover states? In their matching holiday sweaters and Crocs? We have escalators in our subways here, people, don't even think about wearing those atrocious tupperware-containers-as-footwear!

Perhaps the mention of the Russian steam baths will put them off. (I'm torn on this one, because their location was incorrect in the last article I read on the subject, but I don't really want hordes of people on my very block ...). Or perhaps Japanese tourists will think it's the Americanized version of an onsen ... hmmm. Now even more torn. (I have it on good authority from a native New Yorker that the Russian baths are fantastic, btw.)

They only outed a few of my fav restaurants, and I'm traveling so much this month and next that things will probably have settled down by the time I get back. Still, le sigh.*

*Thx again, Blue Fairy - what a perfect phrase!

Shuesday: I said, watch out!

And this week, we have what not to wear in a spectator. Sad, very sad.

A lesson to all who think that it's impossible to overdo it. Take off the last accessory you put on, please.

Oh the Places You'll Go: Montana II

Photos of the B-Bar Ranch:


































At the Norris Geysers in Yellowstone:






















Inspiration Point, also in Yellowstone:

Sari Safari?

One of my oldest and dearest friends is getting married this fall and it's a costume wedding. As in, the groomsmen will be dressed as centurions.

I kid you not.

As it happens, I will have just returned from a 10 day trip to Palm Desert and Austin, TX (a little vay-cay, followed by a little work) and will then turn around and get on another plane to go to the wedding. I needed to find something packable, flattering, and fun. I shared this news with The Blue Fairy, saying that I was thinking of going as a flapper. She, graciously and immediately, offered to lend me something to wear from her collection of vintage clothing. Le sigh.*

Uptown I went (late as usual), and she began to unveil the collection. There were many beautiful dresses, including a gold ball gown in which she glows. But when the sari came out, I knew it was the perfect choice. She taught me how to wear it (referring me to this helpful website as the wedding isn't until October), and made me do it twice so I wouldn't forget. And then she fed me delicious lentil soup, which was both the only and the most yummy thing I'd eaten all day. So happy to have she and The Vintner in town.

All this reminds me of the time I spent with Masako and Hatsue, learning to dress myself in my wedding kimono. (Which would be too bulky and complicated to transport and besides, no reason to have two brides at a wedding, that just makes it confusing.) They were lovely women, and so excited that I was going to be married in kimono.

*thanks for letting me borrow a pet phrase as well!

Shuesday: Watch out

Bally's combined a few of my favourite things in this pump - tassels, spectator-style, patent leather and menswear detailing. Not to mention a high stacked heel.

Oh, and that's /putty/, not white, so no post-Labour Day woes.

Le weekend: Le mini-break, part two

I promised I'd finish this entry, didn't I?

On the first day of mini-break, we headed to the famed Waldorf=Astoria, to see what all the fuss is about. It's a beautiful, if a bit tired, hotel, full of tourists (what isn't around here?), but we appreciated the glory and the grandeur. We met at a particularly old-school bar in the hotel, dropped our bags, and headed out to explore, and find much needed sustenance.

Heartbeat is located in the Lexington Avenue W hotel, and is the /creation/ of Rande Gerber (better known as Mr. Cindy Crawford). My first cocktail was a bit of a bust, but the second, an enormous goblet of perfectly blended sangria, was delightful. After a snack or two and much needed time to unwind, along with more people watching, we headed down the street to Django for real food. I'd happened to see it en route to the hotel, so in we went.

It turns out to be the location of Greek Tragedy's wedding (I'd just finished her book), and we had a fantastic meal, kicked off with a yummy cucumber vanilla martini (apologies, I couldn't find the recipe, but it includes fresh granny smith apple juice). Don't knock it til you've tried it, they're delish. As I recall, we ate blue fin tuna tartare and seared scallops, followed by bouillabaisse and a delightful shrimp tagine. I'll go back, perhaps before the theatre, as it's not far away, and I find Restaurant Row annoying.


We made our way back to the Waldorf, and thought we'd explore a little - there were signs throughout the lobby directing people to the Starlight Roof, so off we went, full of liquid courage. It was wide open and completely empty, so we danced.

You heard me. Didn't think I had all those shoes for nothing, did you?

Now, on a mini-break, it is traditional to sleep in, and laze about in ample bathrobes the following morning. And so we did.

Until they started testing the fire alarm. I kid you not.

Perhaps this is traditional on Fridays 'round 10:30, and it's not that anyone wants to stay in a room dating from 1931 with a fire alarm that doesn't work, but it does interfere with the delightful room service breakfast. And it went on, and on, and on. Past the point of funny. We negotiated with the hotel staff who wanted to assure themselves that we did, in fact, have emergency exit instructions on the inside of our door. We declined to let them in.

We were able to laugh again when we realized that we could have made the pedicure appointments at Bliss on 49th, instead of Bliss Soho, but we grabbed a cab and headed south. After a much needed pedi, we went home, repacked our bags, and headed to Roselle Park for 24 hours in Jersey. To the Shore!

OK, it's ALMOST finished ...


Part one

Icons we mourn: Madeline L'Engle, Luciano Pavarotti

I hate to do two at once, but, in the interests of time.

A great voice was stilled this week as Luciano Pavarotti succumbed to pancreatic cancer.

And, more importantly to me, and probably most of the literatati of my generation, Madeline l'Engle passed away yesterday. I was just talking about her with a gentle and
wise man this week in Montana, and it is inconceivable to me that she is no longer with us. More than anyone else I read at the time, she wrote about feelings and situations I actually experienced, or anticipated experiencing, gently, but with the
crisp edge of ruthlessness that signified how real they were. If you missed them, go, now, buy them, and begin. (Also, wtf happened to Amazon while I was out west?)

Shuesday: Surprise, surprise surprise

Three inch heels aren't much use in Montana.

I'm just saying, the flock of ducks at my backyard meeting today weren't appreciative.