tag:sherimavenblog.com,2013:/posts the world according to sherimaven 2017-06-28T08:29:48Z Sheri Rosenberg tag:sherimavenblog.com,2013:Post/1168088 2017-06-27T13:53:00Z 2017-06-28T08:29:48Z On career shifts and that inevitable New York question

Good morning, Tuesday. I slept in a bit this am and skipped yoga just because. Khan snuggled up next to me is all the down dog I'll be getting today. Oh well.

So lately I've been obsessing about career moves. (What else is new?)

I live in a city where everyone's first question is inevitably "what do you do?" It's beyond strange how forward that feels and how in other parts of the country and the world, it's not necessarily the first thing out of one's mouth when meeting someone new. But this is New York, and our equity as humans is tied very tightly to how we make a living. Perhaps this has changed a bit with the advent of the gig economy, but still- everyone wants to know just how you can afford to live in this crazy place, and that's the truth.

For many years as you know, I've been a producer. And I'm not being boastful, but I'm good at it. I just am. I know how to solve problems, I've been doing it forever, and I respect great ideas and try to give them the integrity they deserve when I come up with a plan to produce or make things. So it was always easy for me to answer the above question- I'm a producer. Of photography primarily, but I can do other things. That was always my default answer.  And I could say this with a great deal of conviction because that's what I did, and it was easy to explain. But it was the other part of the answer that always tripped me up- those "other things". Because deep down I knew that "just" producing was not a full picture of what I did, or what I aimed to do. It's no knock on producing mind you- Lord bless the sorry lot of us who have worked in production for most of our careers- it's not an easy job in the least and the stress is off the charts. 

So cut to now.  To be perfectly honest, the work is not quite as steady as it should be. As a freelance producer, I was busy for years and years and loving it. But lately, it feels like the freelance well is running a bit dry- many in the ad game who do what I do are diversifying- by learning how to produce video, digital, experiential, you name it. I'd be happy to do those things I guess but if you've been reading this blog you know my true love is writing. So why do I have such a hard time calling myself a writer? In the age of social media influence, can't we be whatever we want? So why in such a creatively democratic age is this such a struggle? 

I'm sure there's a number of reasons for it. First, New York City is bursting with writers. It's kind of writer central. Some of the best writers in the world live here, and have been writing professionally for possibly longer than I've been alive- it's an elitist world in a way and super hard to break into. Second, writers are not my tribe. What I mean by that is I have surrounded myself with ad people, photographers, and those that are in my primary career sphere forever. I find myself uncomfortable around groups of writers, but perhaps that's my own intimidation. I know I need to start connecting with other writers in order for me to become the best I can be as well as make a living doing it. Case in point- this weekend I did birthday dim sum for a friend's 40th at one of those crazy dim sum halls in Chinatown. She happens to be an accomplished food writer, and at the party, there were lots of writer types. As we ate endless dumplings, the question of "what do you do" came up, as it always does, but in a bit of a different way. Instead, the question was "How do you know Gabriella? Are you a writer too?" Oy.

My husband looked at me, waiting for my response. I squished my eyes a bit and said, "Well, kinda, not really, I don't know, can you pass the dumplings"?

There's confidence for you. Why was I so afraid to say I was indeed a writer? Is it because my primary way to pay rent is through my life as a producer? Or is it because I'm not yet convinced that I am said writer? It was a humbling moment for me, but one that bugged me. I guess I'm afraid of being a phony, a sham. In a city of so much talent, who am I to say this is what I do?

And further, why on Earth do I care what people think? After all, I take to this blog as much as I can and share as much as I can. I mean, I am a writer. I've been one since childhood. It's all I've ever really wanted to do. I took many paths away from it through the years and now here I am, back at it. I also think I'm somewhat traumatized by a lifetime in advertising, where you are put in silos in order to assess whose job it is to do what. There is a writer. There is an art director. There is an account person. A strategist type. A media person. A project manager. And of course, a producer.  It is so rare for people to move within these boxes- as much as agencies say they want people who have multiple skills, it's very hard to do more than one thing within the agency structure. Sure producers might cross media and work on video, digital, and whatever else, but damn if an account person is going to art direct a photoshoot. Or they better not try. Ha. 

Advertising is an industry of specialists, not generalists. I don't care what agencies tell you. That's the way it is and I see no sign of it changing. Sure people are tackling more as agencies hire less, but nobody likes it.  Producers produce. They are often asked now to be more client facing, but they're still producers. Everyone's being asked to do more, but it's still within their very narrow job description. The upside? It sure makes it easy to answer the New York question.  (I assume this is also an LA question, by the way. Though there, it somehow seems more normal to have many slashes in what you do- as in waiter/writer/producer).

My point is that all of this categorizing makes it easy to answer the WDYD question, but it does a bit of a number on you as well. I've been conditioned to think that writing should be left to the writers, because that's how the ad business works. They may tell you good ideas can come from anywhere, but they kind of don't mean it. It's a very territorial game, advertising. And I suppose I was never one for turf wars.

But now that my life in advertising seems to be slowing down, I'm trying to embrace that I am a writer, that I will be a writer, that I've always been a writer. I may not be living on what I make as a writer, but that's ok. I'm curious about the next time I get asked that dinner party question- how will I answer? It may be a while before I can say "I'm a writer" with any sense of conviction, but I'll do everything I can to get there. Sure I'll still produce projects, that's my left limb. But maybe my right limb wants a new move. Thanks to those who support and encourage me to keep going on this path. It means the world. I have never felt more drawn to reinvention than I do right now. Or in my case, rediscovery for a passion I've had my entire life.

Cause that's what's up this questionable Tuesday in the 718. Yours, in writing it all down. XO

]]>
Sheri Rosenberg
tag:sherimavenblog.com,2013:Post/1167778 2017-06-26T17:45:49Z 2017-06-26T17:45:49Z Maven pick: A scent to summon your inner child

Good morning, Monday. Hope you all had a lovely weekend- I went to see Dead and Co and even though Bob Weir now resembles Jerry Garcia, it's all good. Was a fun show out at Citifield where the Mets play and John Mayer was actually outstanding. Pleasantly surprised, ad was fun to relive some of the old mojo. Not quite ready to hit the road with them and sell Sierra Nevada out of the back of a van, but still a great show (though that option is not sounding bad, more on career stuff later this week).

Anyhoo, it's Summer (duh) and if you are like me, you switch up all kinds of stuff when it comes to beauty- a good toner becomes key amidst so much sweat and a less intense moisturizer for the face for instance. But first and foremost when it comes to Summer is fragrance. Or at least it is for me.

In the Summer my go tos have always been Kai and Calypso's Mimosa (my husband loves this one), and perhaps some Gypsy Water to boot. Oh and can't live without my Nuxe perfume- it literally smells like the best beach- a standout. But a recent peruse in City Chemists
(a BK fav) in Brooklyn Heights found me sniffing out something new; and it's called Child.  I am so happy I found it- have been on the hunt for a Summer scent and wanted it to just come to me. So my first reaction to this cultish scent?

Oh. Yum.

This is good stuff, ladies. It's got all the beautiful white floral notes for Summer- Jasmine, magnolia, mimosa but I also detect some vanilla and sandalwood which give it that good hippie child yumminess. Apparently, LA ladies have been wearing this scent forever, but now that it's here on the East Coast,  this is a quick Summer must have for smelling delicious. I tried the roll on which I love for a lighter feel in warm weather and I have been smelling my wrists ever since. The scent is intriguing because it changes and I love that- all iterations of it have been lovely so far. Fabulous dry down and suspect it smells slightly different on everyone which is lovely. I love the name too because the scent definitely has a young and fresh vibe- but is also a bit wild child to boot in such a pretty and feminine way, but not too girly at all, which I hate. I'm obsessed. Summer has a playfulness that suits the name of this scent, but its boho sophistication is all woman.

I love a seasonal discovery so thought I'd share it with you. It's so perfect for that free spirited feeling you want in the Summer time- I see wearing this with all white, a lovely tan, and inhaling myself until September. It's that good.

Cause that's what's up this sharing my scent knowledge kind of Monday in the 718. Yours in smelling good and feeling good. XO

]]>
Sheri Rosenberg
tag:sherimavenblog.com,2013:Post/1166526 2017-06-22T15:50:43Z 2017-06-22T15:51:32Z The power of Pink: Ways to rock my new favorite hue

Good morning, Thursday. It's so bloody beautiful out today. Hope you can soak in some sun and enjoy this gorgeous second day of Summer. 

So here's something you may or may not know about me- I love pink. It's a color that I'm enchanted by but honestly, I find it a bit tough to wear. Because for me, the best pink is Pepto pink, and try as I might, it doesn't look fantastic on me.  I look better in very pale pink or bright pink a la fuschia, but if you're game to embrace pink as a wonderful color for Summer and even going into Fall, have at it. It lights up the face and it's no longer super girly in terms of how you can rock it- I am madly in love with it. I liken the renaissance of pink (some call it millenial pink) to the new interest in rosy perfume. I always associated rose notes with a grandmom vibe, but now rose has been renewed and it's showing up in some of my favorite fragrances- from Frederic Malle' sPortrait of a Lady to Byredo's Rose of no Man's Land, it's unavoidable and absolutely decadent in the best of ways. And not in the least bit grandmom, unless your bubby is getting stopped on the street because she smells that good.  

And back in the day, pink always made me think of Molly Ringwald. Not even for "Pretty in Pink", but more for that fab look she rocked in the "Breakfast Club". Remember that fab pink scrubs top with the brown suede skirt and boots? I do. It was the most, and now that I'm a redhead again, I'm all kinds of about it. It must be all that rose I'm drinking too. Clearly I've got pink on my mind.

So here are five pink pieces/looks that I just adore. Pink can be punk in a way so don't be afraid of it's girly reputation- plus with a red lip it's pretty much the most divine thing ever. Check out my favorite pink things:

Tibi Pink suit- Loving what Tibi is up to of late- just got their lookbook for Cruise 2018 in the mail and it amazing. I kind of want everything. But a quick peruse through and found this divine suited look that feels so modern and cool- with the slouchy, relaxed vibe and pink hue, it means business but is soft enough to be pretty and fresh and perfectly appointed for the new pink I'm after. Lustworthy.

Oliver People's Sayer aviator frames- Spotted these last weekend up close and I've been dreaming of them ever since. I'm a coppery redhead these days so they go very well with my hair, and they are so beyond cool for beachgoing, citygoing, and daily life going. I'm obsessed with their outsized vibe and rose hue. So good. They don't look super pink here, ps. But trust.

Loeffler Randall Vera slide- Look at this sweet little shoe. Where oh where would you not wear these? Love them with a white shirt dress to cropped jeans to everything you own. Fabulous.

Bird Sophia poplin dress- This little number is a bit of a departure from pink, because it's more rose. I love this dress- saw it the other day in my local Bird on Smith Street and it's so pretty and fresh and great for hot weather. Plus it's a wearable hue good for most. Feminine in the best of ways. Wear with Portrait of a Lady and you'll most likely get a good bit of attention from the opposite sex. Just a vibe I get.

J. Crew Pink signet bag- Love this little lady for small bag lovers- so cute with white, denim, and love the idea of it with red. Such a cute bag to go with all your printed dresses for Summer too. And it's on sale, just as most of the other stuff I've written about today too. Bonus.

So in my mind, pink is the new power color and that's that. It's so lovely and I want all the things I wrote about today, so why not pick up some pink when thinking about color this season and beyond? Cause that's what's up this pretty in pink kind of Thursday in the 718. Yours, in pink power moves. XO




]]>
Sheri Rosenberg
tag:sherimavenblog.com,2013:Post/1165818 2017-06-20T15:47:11Z 2017-06-20T16:07:28Z New York apartment living (is a lot like life)

Good morning, Tuesday. It's hot out there, I'm so glad to be in here. So as a workman who came to fix a leak in my ceiling yesterday took an excruciatingly long dump in my bathroom, I realized something. New York apartment living is a lot like life. Too much perhaps.

We all live in places that reflect our tastes, income, and place in life. Our homes say a lot about us for obvious reasons- from the gilded tack of Trump Tower to Georgia O'Keefe's stripped down chic in New Mexico. But if you do or have ever lived in New York City and its environs, you know that living here is often a mirror into a carnival ride of emotions and moments and symbols. 

I have lived in many ways in New York City. Those apartments and habitats read like a list of discarded lovers.

I have lived in a one bedroom shared with a woman I did not know and slept on a futon for several years. This was my first experience living in New York, and the apartment was merely a vessel for all that I was to discover outside its walls. The space meant little to me; just as most things did back then- I did not particularly care about finding love, career success, or much of anything else except climbing into the woodwork of Manhattan. And that I did.

Many places followed- the first stint in Brooklyn, in a beautiful little jewel box on Bergen Street that felt like protection from the world when I needed it the most. Back then Brooklyn may as well have been the moon. But there were trees, and shade and children playing, and truly, that's all I needed. Until I didn't. New York living is indeed like a love- the smell of fresh paint seduces you, the promise of more closet space, the revelation of a garden. But suddenly, and just like that, you outgrow it, and then you move on.

I went back to the island of Manhattan some time later, to a studio apartment on the Upper East Side. It was small, and smelled of gas. But it was my first apartment on my own, and it was there I grew up a little. Much like your first grown up relationship, it may not be physically exactly what you're after, but it shows you stuff you didn't know you could see. Plus there was a decent diner downstairs and I was often comforted by their late night sounds of dishwashing and plate clanking. It provided a soundtrack of sorts for my very noisy mind at that time of life. 

After that there was Stuyvesant Town, another step in maturity that felt necessary. The apartment itself was truly a step up; a gift from some far off Apartment God who somehow connected me with someone whose family had been on that infamous list forever and wanted a subletter to keep the dream alive. I was living there during 9/11, and somehow its middle class hamlet vibe was what I needed at that time. There was green space, there was light. But there were very few subway lines nearby. And for that reason, I outgrew this place too. 

There were more places- a tiny apartment in Soho that felt more like a psych ward cell in a designer prison, and then there were spaces in Miami, and then, there was New York again. Another apartment, another love affair, another life ended, and another began.

Hello, Brooklyn.

We recently moved out of the apartment we had been in for just over five years. David found it for us and truly, it was perfection. Until it wasn't.

We had a yard. We had a duplex. We had two bathrooms. We were living in a posh neighborhood that felt leafy, perfect, beautiful. And as I came to rediscover the city and pursue my freelance career, this apartment tripped me up somehow. Because there was no light. Absolutely zero natural light. So even though on paper this apartment provided everything we needed including the bonus of not having to put on a bra to take Khan out to pee, it was dark. And that made us a little dark. Oh and all my clothes lived in a storage space across the hall. And we slept in a basement. That has to be a metaphor for something somehow.  And then our landlord sold the building, and we panicked. Because even though we were in the dark and our bed was in the basement, we were not quite ready to give this place up. But the universe had other plans I suppose.

So cut to now, where I'm living on a third floor walkup in the same glorious neighborhood, on a far more beautiful block. I know I've written about this place before, but this place. The most beautiful floors. Natural light. Tasteful kitchen.  But not without sacrifices. Because our second bedroom became my closet, to house all the clothes and shoes and stuff I've collected from this lifetime. And what does that mean? That we don't really have room for guests. Because my stuff needs a place to live. And I'm ok with that. Because right now, I feel a big breakthrough happening and perhaps I need my stuff around me- literally and figuratively to feel it out. Or maybe I just have too much shit. Either way.

But even though this apartment is lovely and sexy and super pretty, there are things. As there always are in New York dwellings.

What are those things? The mailbox system is confusing. I never know when I'm going to get mail and which mailbox it will be in. Hmm. The bathroom is right behind the kitchen, which is always a little weird. We're on the third floor and sometimes the steps make my knees ache. The constant construction makes me feel less like I’m in Brooklyn and more like Beirut. But then I look at my beautiful bedroom, so simple and light filled and lovely, and realize how wonderful this apartment is. Because I'm spending a lot of time here lately, working alone, going through this blog and trying to put together something of note to present to the world in the form of some essays, a book perhaps. And just as I'm consoling myself that everything's going to be alright, the guy who came to fix the leak in my ceiling disappears into my bathroom for an obscenely long time and makes me remember that there is nothing truly idyllic about apartment living in New York, particularly when you're renting. And just like life and sometimes love, all the beauty in the world can't protect you from a hot dump. And that's the truth. It's not enough to make me want to flee the premises of course, I'm holding on to this place for a good stretch. Because as a (ugh) grown up on the verge of yet another birthday next month, I'm well aware that there's always something there to remind us that life is not perfect, love is not perfect, we are not perfect.  I'm sure the gentleman who chose to assassinate my Aesop product filled bathroom had not a single thought of this situation, but somehow he was a reminder of how weird it all is- this life, this living, all of it. 

And truly, many of my friends have purchased their apartments and good for them. But we live in a city where you can't afford to commit, so that says something- we can only afford impermanence, or that's what most of us end up with, though we somehow make it our own. The transience of New York living is not lost on me. Many rent the same apartment for years and years, I tend to switch them out when I'm done with them. Love 'em and leave 'em I guess. It's funny- when people buy the first thing they do is tear down what exists- we renters learn to live with what we have, for better or worse. 

Let's hope today is dump free. Until it isn't.

Cause that's what's up this New York life of a Tuesday in the 718. Yours, in living, loving, and apartment dwelling. XO

 


]]>
Sheri Rosenberg
tag:sherimavenblog.com,2013:Post/1165385 2017-06-19T14:08:04Z 2017-06-20T07:56:39Z Is drinking Rosé really drinking? This maven wants to know.

Good morning, Monday. Hope you had a lovely Father's Day weekend- was missing my dad this weekend big time but was nice to wish a new generation of Fathers best wishes- lots of new daddies out there of late and that's a lovely thing.

So in other news, some of you who are readers of this blog work in advertising, as I have for the majority of my life. And in adland, no week is supposedly more important than the Cannes Lions- a week of debauchery, self congratulation, fist pumping, and an endless amount of rose. For those not indoctrinated (present company included- I've never been), it's a bit of a merde show- because everyone is partying on yachts, toasting their collective success, and sending a cringeworthy amount of selfies on Instagram and Facebook that will most likely have you reaching for a glass of something. It's a bit much. That's the truth.

But besides ad people, you've no doubt sipped on some rosé yourself the past couple years. What is it about this hot weather beverage that has us all in its clutches? Perhaps it's because of my theory- that eosé isn't REALLLLLY drinking. It's just not.  Because rosé? OK! That's how I react when someone asks me if I want some, but that's just me. I

For those of you who partake, you know exactly what I mean. One can consume veritable gallons of the stuff and somehow keep it together. Now let me be clear- I'm a good drinker. Meaning- I can drink quite a bit. I'm not necessarily proud of this, but it's true. Yea, I've had moments that have been no bueno when it comes to boozing, but it's only when I don't eat and that's the truth. Otherwise, I'm good to go. And go. And go some more. It must be that above mentioned career in advertising- Lord knows it's been a minute since the mad men days, but that profession is saucy. More than most, I suspect. I can remember many late nights in many places with many ad comrades. And we are a drinking lot. 

But back to rosé- or as a dear friend of mine calls it- "summer water". I go back and forth between drinking the more clear versions (for a moment we were all completely obsessed with almost clear rose) to the more pink versions, which in my mind are a Sancerre type rosé that is super delicious. The thing with rosé is that it goes down so easily on a hot day and is so pleasant to drink, there's really no reason not to drink it all day long. And yes, I love rosé the most for daytime drinking, when the sun's out. As an experienced imbiber, I would dub rose the session beer of the wine world. In fact, nobody I know has just one glass of rosé. It's poor form. It deserves your attention even though it's a fairly benign beverage. I have not experienced frose mind you- though many in the Hamptons are probably halfway into a slushy pink drink right now. And not sure how far reaching this trend is in the US- I know for sure it's super Eastern seaboard, but did not notice a ton of rosé out west (though I know some out in Napa are experimenting with it) , and when I went to the Delaware beaches last summer, the liquor stores out there had, gah, white zin. Non. Non. And non.

I'll admit- last Summer I was super over rosé and wanted nothing to do with it. Because in Barcelona I rediscovered gin and spent a summer sucking on Gin and Tonics- and to be clear, gin is not at all like rosé- too much gin and you're in big trouble. Trust me, I know. Gin will put a hurt on you, and me. It's delicious but not without danger. And I was happy to be craving the pink stuff as soon as it hit Memorial Day. I'm back to it. Because it's easy. And in my mind, far from gin and its unpredictability. Sure, rosé is a bit of a white girl cliché but I don't mind. Plus it's PINK. I know, right? 

So rosé- it's not really drinking per se. It almost looks like water. I'm not sure a ton of fistfights have resulted from drinking rosé, though I suspect that rosé fans are more lovers than fighters. And though I do like beer, particularly ice cold and when the sun's shining, I can't glug down a ton of beer at this point in my life. I'm not really down for a freshman 15 type vibe. At all. Though one of my barre teachers refers to the hips as the "rosé storage area". I don't disagree, but it's still not as bad as beer, and it's nowhere near as bad as margarita gut. 

So the takeaway from this post is this- rosé is good for you. I'm sure of it. You can drink it all damn day and the worst thing that could happen is you may get a little huggy/kissy or want to dance. Or maybe I'm just in denial and looking for any excuse to drink rosé. I thought for a moment, it would be on the wane this Summer but if you go in any liquor store in the New York metro area, it's front and center in the fridge, from light, light pink to a more vibrant hue. I'm sure my ad friends in Cannes are on a yacht right now, downing rosé as if tomorrow will never come. That's fine- because tomorrow is not so bad because rosé is not really drinking and open another bottle, s'il vous plait? IN closing I ask you cher readers, is drinking rosé really drinking? Let's pour some and decide. Yea I know. It's 10 am. But it's much later in Cannes.  And if you think it's really drinking, keep it to yourself. I'm happy to live in my denial and rosé tinted glasses. I'm good right there.

Cause that's what's up this pink hued Monday in the 718. Yours, in Summertime. XO

]]>
Sheri Rosenberg
tag:sherimavenblog.com,2013:Post/1164591 2017-06-16T16:43:11Z 2017-06-18T15:23:59Z Maven pick: A truly local French joint that delivers

Good late morning, Friday. it's a bit of a gloomer out there but I'm happy to be WFH. Now if only I could shut off CNN. So over it, but my need to know prevails.

So listen- living in New York is magical for many reasons, but the New York we all came up with has kind of hit the highway and turned the city into something a bit less charming. Bigger doesn't always mean better, and with many mom and pop businesses shuttering (old news) to make way for big box brands, life in New York can feel a bit generic at times. My vantage point from leafy Brooklyn tells a bit of a different tale- there's still charm to be had from these shady brownstoned blocks but you can't avoid the construction of high rises and chain stores moving in on this very sacred ground. In any event, I'm not one for nostalgia. Change is growth, regardless of whether or not you like it. But I stumbled on a perfect little resto the other night that reminded me of why I still love this city, for impromptu lovely meals in charming and unexpected places. 

I booked a table at Les Enfants de Bohème, a super cute spot way the f down on the Lower East Side, at that strange spot where it looks like the set of "Flight of the Conchords". The restaurant is on Henry Street, just around the corner from East Broadway. This is a neighborhood, that, although full of cute hipster types, is still deeply New York at its best- a petri dish of different cultures, particularly Chinese, whose presence in the area reminds me of when New York felt like the most culturally diverse place on Earth. But back to the food.

I was super in the mood for French food and charm the other night- it was a lovely, temperate evening in New York- the kind of night that is the perfect early Summer evening when the city feels welcoming and alive. A lovely French woman served us the most divine cocktails- mine was a watermelon vodka concoction and David's was a yummy bourbon and mint varietal. We ordered foie gras, we ate amazing cheese, and then we both had beautiful, fresh salads, mine with the most perfectly and simply prepared roasted chicken.  I did not have to close my eyes to imagine myself in Paris at that moment- the food replicated some of my favorite easy dinners when I was in France a few years back- particularly our fav little local spot, Café des Musées on the Rue de Turenne (not fussy and delicious food- memorable times there). The windows were all open to the street and I enjoyed watching life go by on a Wednesday night, and felt lucky to still have a great neighborhood standout like Les Enfants to celebrate the midweek point and enjoy a fabulous meal and satisfy my jones for French vibes at a fair price.

When New York gets on my nerves, and it often does, it's moments like that meal and that place and that sweet, weird little corner on the LES I appreciate. And just like that, I fall in love with New York all over again. I guess I'm easy. Just give me a good meal, a nice glass of wine or two, and a view of the city that still speaks to my soul. Highly recommend this cute little spot celebrating 2 years in biz- they were so sweet and the food was so, so good. If not here, keep looking for those little gems that make the city tolerable amidst so much major change. It's nice to know there's still some there here. New York is a wonderful mix of neighborhoods and cultures and there's nothing better than discovering a nice local spot when you're not all about seeing and being seen and such. Local is still alive and well here and I'm so happy about that. Happy to meet anyone of you there for a glass of wine and some great food.

Cause that's what's up this French inspired Friday in the best city in the world. Yours, in remembering what it's all about. XO



]]>
Sheri Rosenberg
tag:sherimavenblog.com,2013:Post/1164212 2017-06-15T12:49:58Z 2017-06-15T12:54:34Z So do you have it in you?

Good morning, Thursday. It's a nice one here in the big city and I'm happy to run amok. I've been thinking, as I often do, ok always do- about what's next for me. It's something you do as a freelancer/contractor quite often as you move through gigs and assess what's working and what's not.  I'm sure full timers do that too, but perhaps in a different way- it's just part of life when you work for yourself because you're constantly figuring out ways to be more efficient, more successful, more agile.

So it's no surprise going inward would be on the agenda when it comes to a bit of career soul searching. We've been told for years how important it is to love what you do, and with that refrain constantly in my head, it's kind of a bummer when you don't. There's moments, there's glimmers, there's times when I look around at the lovely people I get to work with and realize how lucky I am. But does it make my heart sing? Not really. Is that ok? Yea, it is. It's work. It can't be a lovefest all the time- I think that's a completely ridiculous expectation.

But here's what I do know. I was walking down the street yesterday, enjoying the scenery of my Brooklyn neighborhood, when it kind of hit me. This notion of what's in you. Or really, what's in me.

You know that expression- do you have it in you? 

For me, that phrase came into my brain and I chose to think about it for the rest of the afternoon. What's in me? What do I have in me? And how does that truly speak to what's inside, in my heart?

Here's what I came up with:

I know I have a book in me. It's clear as day- not the subject necessarily but that it's there at all. I've been writing on this blog for years- it's never been about becoming a famous blogger or anything like that truly. It's been a wonderful place for me to share all the things I think about and love and so on. Looking through the gobs of posts I've written,  there's truly a there there. And I know I have it in me to explore what all of these musings could become. It may not happen today, but it's going to happen. Because I've always had a book in me and I know it.

What else is in me?

A desire to get good and clear on my intentions. It's in me to clear the fat out of my life- the things I don't need, the people I don't need, all of that. 

It's in me to seek new ways to be healthier- mind and body. That's a big one.

And it's in me to work on projects with people I love, as a means to support my book and any other projects I may want to take on that feel all mine- maybe it's a dress line, maybe it's something else. I'm not sure, but what's in me right now is a desire to create on my own terms, and fully not for hire. I want to make stuff on my own, that speak to me, that speak to my own point of view. After a lifetime of orchestrating creative work (with other people's ideas), I feel it's time to create somehow. That's in me- though that one may take a bit more time to come to the surface but I know it's there.

So the question remains, fair readers, what do you have in you? Is it running a marathon? Working on your relationship? Learning to fly? I promise you if you ask yourself that question in the most honest way possible, you'll get some answers. And if you don't, you may need to do a bit more looking. Trust me, it's there. We all have something inside- and most of the time, it's the truth. It gets masked and hidden by daily life and all the external stuff we need to do to survive and pay our bills and whatever else. But take a minute while walking around the block or when you're in the shower or after a run or whenever and ask yourself if you have it in you. It's a relief to find out there's still something inside, it's listening to that where the real work begins.

Cause that's what's up this me to you kind of Thursday in the 718. Yours, in what's inside. XO

]]>
Sheri Rosenberg
tag:sherimavenblog.com,2013:Post/1163517 2017-06-13T12:42:39Z 2017-06-13T13:06:38Z Maven pick: A jumpsuit that keeps its cool

Good morning, Tuesday. I'm pretty much not leaving the house today. It's too hot to trot, baby. Khan and I are happily hitched up at home and we're not going anywhere. 

You all know how hard it is for me to beat the heat. It simply doesn't work for me and I've got a major case of the vapors. I can't wait for this heat to break tomorrow, but all kidding aside, you need some fashion that works when the temps just aren't.

And I'm completely obsessed with this jumpsuit from my pals at Meg, a fantastic clothing line made right here in New York. I love the girls at Meg on Atlantic Avenue by my house, they are so helpful and positive- there's always a treat for the dog as well as adorable pieces perfect for all seasons. I like their pants very much and adore their dresses, but I love the way they cut a jumpsuit and have purchased a few of them over the years. This one may very well be my favorite. You can rock it in so many ways- with disco high heels or flat sandals and everything in between.

It reminds me of the very expensive one from Electric Feathers- the one I want but can't have. This little number has that harem vibe and love the low cut back and ability to remove the ruffle from the straps and rock it any way you want- and it's made of this crinkly linen that is so light and easy and looks great a bit rumpled so no need to worry about the whole linen thing. It's just the most and ticks the box for staying cool and looking cool all at once. It's loosey goosey and altogether lovely.

It comes in a few colors (love the mossy green) and although I don't see it on their website, it's absolutely in stores now so go in to a Meg near you (a few in the city and in Toronto too) and get this. It's too cute. Even when this heat is anything but.

Cause that's what's up this hot in the city kind of Tuesday in the 718. Yours, in yet another jumpsuit. You know you love it. XO

]]>
Sheri Rosenberg
tag:sherimavenblog.com,2013:Post/1162148 2017-06-09T14:31:15Z 2017-06-09T14:31:15Z Sex and spin and broken dreams

Good morning, Friday. It's absolutely gorgeous outside. Finally. Amazing what a sunny day can do to the mood. I'm happy it's the weekend and looking forward to celebrating my niece and nephew's graduations on Sunday. Two weekends in a row in Philly- one for sad reasons, one for very happy ones. Life is odd that way.

So here's what. Recently, as in twice or three times in the past month, I've tried to up my cardio game a bit and returned to spinning and gulp, Soul Cycle. I'm still a barre girl through and through, but I need to move. And fast. So back to the bike I go, and Soul Cycle is close by so it's easy. And I found the best teacher.

There's a guy there called Noa (teaches in BK Heights) that is kind of my spin class spirit animal. He's not the most in shape dude, he's covered in tattoos, and he's absolutely hilarious. Oh and he plays the Wu, and he plays Rage Against the Machine, and he plays a ton of rock and hip hop and that's really all I need from a spin class. He has a Dave Attell vibe to him, and I suspect it was quite a path that led him to Soul Cycle. Anyway, if you're a fan of loud rock or hip hop while working on your fitness, go to his class. It's awesome.

Anyway, Soul Cycle has become more like So You Think you can Dance Cycle. I have always loved spinning because I find it meditative- in a dark room, with loud music, it's the only cardio you can do where you can truly close your eyes. Sex too I suppose, but spin burns more calories. And you know this. But cut to now when everyone is twerking and working on their bikes and it kind of reminds me of the pool scene in "Showgirls". it makes me nervous. I just wanna ride, yo. You may recall another post I wrote on Soul Cycle, so my history with it is fraught, to say the least.  Not to mention the ill at ease feeling one gets while watching a bunch of rich white people gyrating to the Wu Tang Clan while candles burn.  I know right? I hate myself. I love myself. It's a toss up.

Yes I know spin and sex and Nomi Malone (there she is above in all her glory) are a tough map to draw. Whatever, weirdo. But there are more parallels than you think, because here's what happened to me in a recent class.

Teacher with the tats was blasting "American Idiot" and I was getting in the zone. I wasn't looking around at the crazy movements, I was just doing my own thing and finding my vibe. But then something happened that was mortifying. All the lights in the room went on. And Noa announced my bike number and name on the bike- "HEY BIKE 37, SHERI ROSENBERG, CONGRATULATIONS ON YOUR 100TH CLASS"! And then I got enthusiastic claps from all the showgirls and I wanted to die. Right there. Because if you know me, you know that calling my name out in the middle of anything, let alone a spin class, is the absolute worst. Plus my tee shirt had a big coffee stain on it. Horrible. Oh and that 100th class? I think that's a lifetime achievement award. I have literally done 3 classes in a year, and that's the truth. So who even knows how they track that shit. What kind of narcissist likes to be called out like that? I can't. I just can not. Sure it's a nice thing to do, just don't do it to me. Ever.

Soon the class got back to normal, but I did not. I couldn't shake being called out, and I never got over turning the lights on in the middle of a sprint like that. Because at this point in my life, everything physical is better with the lights off. And you know this. Because I'm no showgirl. And can you imagine someone turning the lights on in the middle of sex? How jarring would that be?  Let alone the yelling. Keep those lights low, please. Resume pearl clutch. Some things are just better in the dark, without a reminder of how long you've been doing them.

Cause that's what's up this darkly soulful Friday in the 718. Yours, in sex and spin and broke dreams. XO


]]>
Sheri Rosenberg
tag:sherimavenblog.com,2013:Post/1161521 2017-06-07T15:04:07Z 2017-06-07T15:04:07Z A funny thing happened in Clare Vivier...

Good morning, Wednesday. It's actually nice outside for a second. Yes.

So yesterday I was looking for a gift and went into Clare Vivier- you know that spot, right? Great bags and leather accessories and fun things for cool little Frenchy types and the American girls that love them. I myself have a few of her bags and clutches and am a humble fan. But I digress.

As Khan and I browsed, I couldn't help but notice a girl trying on a ponyhair, leopard print crossbody bag. It was a nice bag for sure- she was dressed fairly nondescript but had a lankiness I appreciated so I noticed her. 

As her and the salesgirl chatted away about cute bags vs. cute bags, I happened to be listening when said salesgirl asked, "So is that bag for a special occasion"?

To which my nondescript tall girl replied, "Ya. I'm going to a Dead Show?"  

HOLD UP.

This young girl was buying this bag for a Dead show? Whatttttt?

As a seasoned Dead show vet (when the Dead were still the Dead that is), I couldn't help but intervene.

"No. Just no. You can't wear that to a Dead show", said I.

"Realllly? What would you wear then? I want something cute". OMG. Dummy.

I then chose a tan neutral leather crossbody and told her she could also rock a straw bag, or maybe a brown La Tropezienne. But under no circumstances should she wear that bag- really I just wanted her to leave the store but what could I do really? It's true you can wear absolutely whatever the f you want to see the Dead, but keep it lowkey. Clare Vivier is lovely for brunch. Clare Vivier is lovely for work/drinks. Claire Vivier does not belong at a Dead show. Even if it is John Mayer and not Jerry. Like- a big no no, non? I could have gotten depressed about the whole thing, as in no more Jerry and no more real hippies looking for miracles- instead they're eating avocado toast and looking for handbags. Sigh.  Besides, shopping for an outfit for a Dead show is really weird. Shopping for an expensive handbag for one is even stranger. Long strange trip, indeed.

Poor kid. She didn't know what hit her. But I couldn't let her go out like that. I felt it my duty to help. And why do I care? I don't know why. It was just a funny little moment that felt so off. And then after I left the store, praying she made good choices, I went home and watched that insane new Dead documentary on Amazon (more on that tomorrow). And then this morning I bought tickets to Dead and Co. Because I needed to. And you can bet yer sweet US Blues I won't be wearing that bag. I will most likely be wearing my brown leather Moroccan fringe bag from a flea market. Cause that's what's up this schooling the uneducated kind of Wednesday in the 718. Yours, in stealing faces and funny moments. XO


]]>
Sheri Rosenberg
tag:sherimavenblog.com,2013:Post/1161155 2017-06-06T15:30:30Z 2017-06-06T15:32:48Z Maven recommends: Vince still nails it for easy Summer basics

Good morning, Tuesday. It's another gloomsville of a day here in Brooklyn. Tough to motivate when it's like this outside. Gah.

So Summer will surely arrive and when it does, I'll be craving my usual bevy of long, cool dresses, flat sandals, and slouchy bags with floppy hats. That's my look for sure- think Mary Kate and Ash at the beach. There they are above at last nights CFDAs. Always so perfect in my mind.

 Even though I posted that cuckoo dress yesterday, my day to day dial is almost always set to minimalist/flowy for warm days.

Slip dresses are life in the Summer. Full stop.

One place to procure great pieces in this style? Vince. We all know Vince- in the same category as Theory and Helmut Lang for basics that go from city to country in a snap. I'm a Vince fan from way back and a recent peruse online had me remembering why Vince is so good. Check out some of my favorite pieces from their site- and of course, some are on sale (the navy tie dress above as well as the print for example). Love the little cargo jacket below, and all those great slip dresses are right up my alley. And those jeans are just the cutest with a white tank and sandals. Everything's so easy breezy. Love everything- super wearable, timeless, and chic.

Love how the little bomber above is a fresh take on suiting with trousers. 

I want to live in this maxi all Summer long. 

So check out an old fav and reliable brand for all your minimalist Summertime needs here. Cause that's what's up this spare and chic kind of Tuesday in the 718. Yours, in anxiously awaiting the sun. XO



]]>
Sheri Rosenberg
tag:sherimavenblog.com,2013:Post/1160883 2017-06-05T17:20:55Z 2017-06-05T17:37:46Z Driven to madness by a Balenciaga dress (aka a typical Monday)

Good afternoon, Monday. How's it?

I'm being haunted. By a dress. A Balenciaga dress. A beautifully hideous Balenciaga dress. And I think I must possess it. Because it now possesses me. 

I don't know what it is about this f'in dress. Well I do, actually. It's totally Mrs. Roper meets Maude meets Rhoda. If you don't know who those people are, then you probably won't want this dress. But if you do, you'll know right away why I want it. It's the sexy version of a 70s old lady dress and I have to have it. I spotted it this weekend in Joan Shepp in Philadelphia and I have not stopped thinking of it since. An insomniac evening led me to search for it online, and I found it on My Theresa. I need this dress. I love this dress. This dress is crazy. Maybe I'm crazy.  And it has a big sexy slit in the leg. So it's a hotter version of a mumu. And I love it. I can't really find it in my size. And that's probably a good thing. But if I do. Look OUT.

I'm not going to buy this dress. But this dress. THIS BLOODY DRESS. I'm going completely batty over it. Look at it with jeans. So chic.So hideous. So fabulous. Ugh I'm in love.

I swear I've completely lost it. But how good is this crazy little number? I'm obsessed with it. Welcome to my mind. It's tortured and full of dresses.  Dresses of many varietals, but currently this one is occupying my entire frontal lobe and then some.

Cause that's what's up this eternal sunshine of a Monday in the 718. Yours, in overthinking. XO

]]>
Sheri Rosenberg
tag:sherimavenblog.com,2013:Post/1159659 2017-06-01T15:04:44Z 2017-06-01T16:30:40Z America, I'm worried about you

Good morning, Thursday. I'm cranking on a gig and need to go back home tomorrow so I'll be brief.

America, WTF is wrong with you? With us? Do we not have anything better to do than exhaust ourselves with covfefe or whatever version of that will happen today? Wonder if that phrase has been trademarked yet, ps? No, don't. Please don't.

Because I'm worried that by osmosis we're all getting real f'ing dumb, or dumberer. And lazy. Must we react ad nauseam each and every time Trump gaffes on Twitter or anywhere else? Because as you pop another brain cell troubling yourself over another meme, the Orange One is shell gaming us into a major world crisis. All I'm saying is this- keep your head in the game and stop getting distracted by the constant sideshow attraction known as the Presidency. This whole Russia situation, climate crisis, and everything else is far too important to miss. Meanwhile, Baby Face Kushner and Grim Creeper Bannon are gumming up the works while we're amusing ourselves with word play and autocorrect run amok. Oh and whatever with Kathy Griffin. Who cares???

Head in the game, friends. Americanos. What have you.  Listen, I love the memes from time to time too but seriously- can we focus on what's really going on? Enough comic relief. There's work to do. Now let's get back to it.

That is all. Now go enjoy your freedoms and refocus.

Cause that's what's up this staying woke Thursday in the 212. Yours, in not getting fooled again. XO

]]>
Sheri Rosenberg
tag:sherimavenblog.com,2013:Post/1158913 2017-05-30T16:23:10Z 2017-05-30T16:23:13Z Personal brand this: Why I'm over you. And you. And me.

Good morning, Tuesday. It's gloomy in the city today and a perfect day to hide but alas...

So this weekend I went upstate and it was lovely- received some very sad news upon my return- my uncle's ex wife, who we were all still very fond of, passed away suddenly.  She left behind a son, my dear cousin, and we are all devastated and shocked.  All day yesterday I went back and forth thinking of all the memories while checking in on my uncle and cousin back home. Needless to say, it was a rough day. And somehow, I had no interest posting it to Facebook- just felt slightly too personal and raw for me. I just wanted to feel the sadness and not engage. 

Which brings me to a post I was planning on writing today anyway- how much I'm completely puzzled by Instagram stories and Snapchat and how we are using video storytelling as a medium of self expression right now. From my vantage point, Instagram stories is a rabid collection of girls making duck faces, then opening their mouths to fake lip sync some song, and then dancing around in the upper body while drinking a cocktail or opening a beauty box. I don't get it. I don't get what's interesting about it. I don't get what's fun about putting mouse ears and a nose on my face while I'm getting my swerve on. I don't understand fake dancing of any kind and find the whole thing uncomfortable to look at, particularly because it's more often than not white girls who can't dance.

One of my fav Instagram stories train wrecks belongs to Bethenny Frankel- she of "Real Housewives of New York" and Skinnygirl fame. This is a person who, from the looks of it, can't spend a single moment alone. Yes, her new puppies are cute. Yes, her body is bangin'. But seriously? Her Instagram stories arc is depraved. Demented, sad, and social. Of sorts. This is a person who can't stop documenting every second of her so called life, and it's vulgar in it's compulsion. It's hard to look at really. So I had to stop. She's not a real housewife, she's a desperate one.

For many years, I've been all about the personal branding ethos and why it's important for all of us to propel our own brands forward. But today on LinkedIn a connection of mine, Tom Goodwin of Zenith Media,  posted the following:

"I find this whole idea of "the personal brand" and "thought leaders" or "influencers" really distasteful. Can't people just be themselves, have original thoughts, discuss what they find interesting etc. We are people, we are not brands, we just have personalities. Stop broadcasting, curating and strategizing and start just being."

Yes. Preach. I'm down with you, sir. I thought for a moment you were a dinosaur, but then I realized you're exactly where I am in this Darwinian pissing match called life. 

Because I've been thinking the very same thing of late, and I know I have some friends who are going to virtually smack me for saying so. I am overtired from analyzing influencer behavior and thinking about selling my own brand. To be honest, I've always known my great strength comes from having a voice that is all my own- before people became brands we were all just people. I wonder if we've gone too far down the rabbit hole to claw our ways out- to think of humans as brands may have seemed like a cool way to differentiate and stand apart in a crowded world, but maybe now there's real cred in turning one's back to daytime drinking selfie videos, shameless plugs, and hyper curated sheep behavior.  Maybe I just wanna be me. Sure I'm someone that is more entrepreneurial and do my own thing in spirit, so sure- a marketing tactic or two is needed to help me get work. But damn if I'm not quite sick of everything brand me- maybe it's time to focus on just being completely original and unshackled by all the bullshit. I think we're reaching peak levels of insanity when it comes to one uppance and everything related to our so called lives on social media.  What does it really mean to be true to one's own self anymore?  I don't care about your cute pool float, your grain bowl, or your frosé. Listen, I post my own bullshit too- guilty as charged. But I'm just here waiting for people to be themselves again and not shove said selfness down my throat, ya dig?

Ok rant over. That's just where I am today as I get down to it. Maybe the death of a loved one gave me a bit of perspective, maybe I'm just tired of Summer before it even starts. Maybe I just hate a grain bowl. Who knows? It's just where I'm at today, yo.  Don't kill me, Irma Zandl. 

Cause that's what's up this demented and sad and unsocial kind of Tuesday in the 212. Yours, in free to be. XO



 

]]>
Sheri Rosenberg
tag:sherimavenblog.com,2013:Post/1157329 2017-05-25T15:46:01Z 2017-05-25T15:46:03Z TBT: 90s on my mind as usual with a new book on the matter

Good morning, Thursday. It's shite outside. But no matter- I'm Audi 5000 come tomorrow to chill in the woods with some pals. I can't wait.

So this being TBT and such, I wanted to share this brilliant collection of photos captured in a new book called "That's a Crazy One", which chronicles the 90s in New York from the point of view of best friends Mel Stone and High, who incidentally were the inspiration for the movie Kids. Article about the new book here

I love photos that document New York through the years- from Jamell Shabazz to Bruce Davidson to any number of people who understand the "relentless impermanence" (well worded quote from the article above) of this crazy place. Look at these photos and tell me they don't bring back some sort of feels. I love them and this book is a must have and all proceeds benefit NYC Public Schools Art & Photography program. We were all kids then. Or a lot of us were. I could look at these photos forever. And I probably will.

Enjoy that stroll down memory lane, would you? Cause that's what's up this looking back kind of Thursday in the city of NY.  Yours, in kids and impermanence. XO

For more information, visit the project's website here.

]]>
Sheri Rosenberg
tag:sherimavenblog.com,2013:Post/1156987 2017-05-24T12:49:20Z 2017-05-24T12:49:20Z Maven pick: Keeping it simple with the perfect travel dress

Good morning, Wednesday. So happy to be WFH this week. Means the world. I'm super in hideout mode and don't mind one bit.

So you know I'm in a perpetual state of wanderlust- daydreaming about where to go next in this big, beautiful world. And as I'm doing that, I'm often thinking about what I'd wear while there. I know- it's weird. But I'm a very visual girl so enjoy thinking about the full picture, and naturally, that includes clothes.

There's always been a part of me that craved a perfect travel trousseau- a casual carry on bag filled with just the right stuff and nothing more. After a recent closet purge, I want to live my life that way- the right stuff as in the right projects, the right makeup, the right everything. Because getting it wrong is a bore.

So I loved this article in the Times recently about this fabulous little dress line, Zuri. Created by a New Yorker living in Nairobi, this Kenyan inspired dress was created to suit a universal need- throw it in a backpack, wear it to a wedding, belt it with jeans and rock it on a Sunday. I love everything about a dress that looks great on everyone (supposedly) and comes in enough patterns to suit most tastes. I have not yet purchased one, but think I'm going to- it ticks off so many of my boxes. I'm a big fan of this type of thinking- can't we all just get along? Maybe we can- if we all wear the same dress. I love the idea of a whimsical printed piece as a newfound uniform- fabulous. And the egalitarian price point? Bonus. You can buy a few. Oh, and they're completely sustainable. What's not to love about a dress this good, particularly as we enter prime dress season?

Check out all the fun here.  I'm in love. Cause that's what's up this paring it down with prints kind of Wednesday in the 718. Yours, in keeping it simple, and hitting the road. XO

]]>
Sheri Rosenberg
tag:sherimavenblog.com,2013:Post/1156234 2017-05-22T14:09:16Z 2017-05-22T14:09:16Z Monday is under the duvet day

Hey, Monday. It was a lovely weekend working and making stuff with good friends and enjoying a day off yesterday in that glorious weather. I'm a fan.

So it's a gloomy one here in Brooklyn and don't be jealous, but I'm still under the duvet. I have no interest in motoring around today and suppose that's one of the gifts of freelance life, I don't have to.  It's rare I allow myself a pause. I'm uncomfortable with not knowing what's next when it comes to work, but since I have a project coming my way, I'm enjoying the sweet silence.  It's been a crazy couple of months with the move and such and having a down day is a lovely thing. Don't expect much from me today. Hold my calls. I'm hiding out wincing through a Rascal Flatts performance on the Today Show. Who likes them? Why? "Life is a Highway" reminds me of sitting in an airport Chili's. Awful. 

Oh and needless to say, my little fur baby is very happy to have a day off too. He's happily curled up next to me- there's nothing better than a bed in with Khan. He's good at napping. See him? Exceptional even. It feels so indulgent to do absolutely nothing. But sometimes my fake Type A soul craves some peace and quiet and lethargy. I've been forced to be a little Energizer Bunny but really, I'm slothlike. 

Wherever you are, enjoy your Monday. Maybe you're out hustling, maybe you're just chilling. It's rare I'm happy staying put, but feeling content to do absolutely nothing. A post about nothing even.  A Seinfeldian blog post.

Cause that's what's up this easy breezy Monday. Yours, in keeping it quiet. XO


]]>
Sheri Rosenberg
tag:sherimavenblog.com,2013:Post/1154940 2017-05-18T13:28:46Z 2017-05-18T14:46:38Z RIP Chris Cornell: My favorite dark horse

Good morning, Thursday. I was beyond sad to hear about the loss of Chris Cornell, frontman of iconic bands like Soundgarden and Audioslave. I can't believe they're talking suicide.  Losing a talent and voice like Chris is just too much to bear on this hot day. I have always adored his growl, a voice that came from somewhere deep inside. He was one of mine, one of yours, he belonged to Generation X in many ways. I'm not sure why all the Grunge Gods die so tragically- Cobain, Staley, Weiland, probably more I'm missing. And now my favorite. 

I've joked with my husband that Chris Cornell was my free pass.  He was pretty much perfection. As a single woman, I was always knee weakened by the dark and stormy type of gent- physically and otherwise. I believe I used to refer to it as a "Heathcliff complex"-  dark and brooding and sitting in the corner looking like he wants to tell everyone in the room to fuck off- yea, loved that. He was gorgeous. That lanky beauty. And of course, the oft mentioned darkness.

But it's probably that irresistible darkness that killed him, as well as gave him that voice. 

I remember Sandra Bernhard, in a black bra and leather pants, covering "Black Hole Sun" one of the first times I saw her live. It was amazing, and it's an exceptional song. And although the 90s saw me more in a clubby/hip hop mood, I can't ever forget the way grunge took over. But it wasn't until a visit to an aging Russian homeopath that I rediscovered Cornell's gifts. True story.

When I was a younger woman, I went to see a homeopath on the reco of a friend. His name was Edward Shalts and we talked for a while and then he started telling me about this amazing new band he was digging on called Audioslave. He played me a couple of songs- and that instantly recognizable voice came streaming through his office while he prepared my supplements and I fell in love all over again. Not with the homeopath, mind you. But with that blessed and beautiful voice. It almost broke my heart. It truly spoke to me. Needless to say, i remain a huge fan of Audioslave and to think of a world without Chris Cornell makes me very sad. When Prince died, his performance of "Nothing Compares 2 U" was transcendent. It was exceptionally beautiful. Mind blowing even. Watch it.

Getting older's a bitch. Having demons is a bitch. And being blessed with such talent can often be more of a bitch than a blessing. I'm not sure if he ended his own life, but the world lost a comet overnight. He died a few hours after a show in Detroit, and I will miss him and his amazingness. He truly was one of my favs. I will always love rock and roll, a dark horse, and next level talent no matter where I am or what I'm doing in life. RIP. I'm gutted.

Cause that's what's up this flag at half kind of Thursday in the 212. Yours, in black hole suns and spoon men. Good night, dark horse. XO



]]>
Sheri Rosenberg
tag:sherimavenblog.com,2013:Post/1154468 2017-05-16T15:29:43Z 2017-05-16T15:29:43Z Maven pick: Aziz Ansari's Master of None is must see TV


Good morning, Tuesday. It is splendid in New York today. Yes, splendid. And glorious. And delicious. I love this city when the seasons change. It's so beautiful.

So many of you may think I'm a bit of a maven about town, but truthfully- I'm every bit the couch potato. I have always always loved television and I'm so happy that programming of late has been fuego. I am loving all the new shows of the last few years and how good TV is in general. I am indeed the cheapest date in town- just set me in front of the TV with a glass of wine and some Seamless and I'm sorted.

One of my new favorite shows is the stellar "Master of None", Aziz Ansari's brilliant show, now in it's second season on Netflix. If you're not familiar with Aziz, you need to know who he is- he's big as a minute and funny as hell. Now listen- I'm a Louie C.K. fan. It's hard not to be. But there's something kind of sticky (as in gross) about Louie- we all know he's a superfreak. I can't help but feel that way. I have many girl friends who claim Louie is sexy. I can't get there. Plus his maudlin take on New York drains me from time to time. And sometimes, his jazzy soundtrack is a bit heavy handed. DON'T SHOOT. I know he's brilliant. But Aziz.

So Aziz is a lovely man of Indian descent, whose positive energy comes through in his character, Dev- a young comedy type of sorts looking for love in this crazy town. I love his friends on the show, and most of all, I love his silliness at a time in our country when we need it the most. If Louie is the guy you do shots with and talk about the decline of western civ, then Aziz is the guy you eat a slice with and create funny voices for all the people walking by the window. I love him. Oh and his hilarious first response on any of a zillion dating apps? "Going to Whole Foods, want me to pick you up anything?" BOOM. Immediately funny and puts a lady right at ease. Great.  How could a single gal resist? Men who make women laugh. The very best. I should know. 

In this season, he does a wonderful episode on learning how to make pasta in Italy, and I'm completely smitten with an episode he did about New York City- I won't spoil it but he absolutely nailed the beauty of this city- from uptown to downtown, from rich to poor. So so very on point. And his portrayal of being of Muslim descent (his real dad is in the show) is a refreshing change from what we typically see. It's funny because I always related way more to a dark horse like Louie when it came to the funnies, but now I'm all about and so in need of Aziz's infectious goofiness. It's the best. Plus Bobby Canavale's cameo this season is amazingly good.

If you haven't watched it- you must must must.  An unlikely hero in these tenuous times. The show is like dessert every time I watch it, but with much less guilt. Go get some sugar, kids. You're welcome. 

Cause that's what's up this Netflix and chill kind of Tuesday in the 212. Yours, in comedy always wins. XO


]]>
Sheri Rosenberg
tag:sherimavenblog.com,2013:Post/1154158 2017-05-15T14:03:59Z 2017-05-15T21:12:17Z How a Brooklyn apartment can reveal a little something about life

Good morning, Monday. I'm working on a few projects right now and busy, busy, busy. But I wanted to write because- well, I always want to write.

So you all know I moved into a new apartment- two blocks away from my previous one. It's funny because I had a whole list of things that needed to be checked off in order for me to be happy:

Two bedrooms/two baths
Outdoor space
Washer/dryer in unit
Ample storage space for my ongoing trousseau
No walkups

When I started looking, I had this list top of mind- until a chance meeting in my nail salon led me to my new place, which by the way, has only one of the above going for it.

I met a woman while getting my nails done whose family owned a building in my neighborhood- a two bedroom in lovely Cobble Hill. I jumped at the chance to see it because I liked her, and after I saw this lovely little jewel box of an apartment, I quickly asked where do we sign, and just like that, it was ours. And it was not anything that I expected. Here's why.

I am sharing a bathroom with David for the first time in many years. We have no washer/dryer in our unit, let alone in the building. We do have two bedrooms, but one of them is being turned into a closet for that above mentioned trousseau, because we don't have a ton of storage. We are on a third floor walkup, and we have no outdoor space, save for a lovely stoop. But that's all ok somehow, because we love this new apartment. It's bright, airy, completely charming. I love everything about it, though it certainly did not tick off many of my boxes. But really, isn't that how life works out? I was so worried Khan would hate the steps, hate having to be walked all the time, and that my clothes would have nowhere to fit. I also worried about that bathroom sitch, but so far everything has been lovely. We had our first real weekend at home this weekend and after we hung our last picture, we knew we were indeed, home. Love.

We tell ourselves we need this, that, and the other thing to be happy, but how often do all of those items on our eternal lists add up? We all have an image or mental checklist of what it would take to be content- from Mr. or Mrs. Right to our perfect job to our perfect home. But if you're like me, those things never really line up. Because sometimes when you're not looking for everything to be just right, you may miss an opportunity for a serendipitous encounter in a nail salon, in line at Trader Joe's, or a million other scenarios. Leave some room for the unexpected and you'll be amazed at how much happiness it will bring.

The moral of this story? Don't settle for less than what you want, but be willing to be flexible on all that box checking. Life has a way of working out regardless, and in the strangest of ways.  I also thought this apartment would allow me to indulge in a French minimalist apartment fantasy, but alas, non. We have tons of artwork and fun little things that make our house a home and though I admire a minimalist point of view, I'm not sure I can embrace it. Again, just be comfy with who you are and what you like and be willing to riff on all of it and you'll be just fine. Because I am. And I'm eternally grateful that everything always seems to work out, even if it's not exactly as you expected. I'm totally cool with that. 

Cause that's what's up this going with the flow kind of Monday in the 212. Yours, in happy accidents, and being true to oneself. XO

]]>
Sheri Rosenberg
tag:sherimavenblog.com,2013:Post/1152955 2017-05-10T13:53:49Z 2017-05-12T01:20:53Z Makeup free(lance) life

Good morning, Wednesday. It's a beautiful day here in Brooklyn and I'm working from a sweet little cafe because my apartment, though lovely, is filled with the dulcet sounds of construction and my whole living room is shaking. I'm becoming one of those OG New Yorkers who complains about noise and construction. And I'm ok with that.

So one other thing- all my clothes and cosmetics have yet to be unpacked as I'm turning our second bedroom into a little closet for me.  I don't have space for my clothes and extensive perfume collection and whoknowswhatelse so I must. Don't judge.

Because of this, I've become a bit lax when it comes to getting dressed in the am. I'm working from home a lot these days so no need to impress the kids in the cubicles. I literally wear the same thing every day- a rock tee, some leggings from Splendid, and one of two blazers that I switch out depending on my mood and if I need to run an errand. Other than that, I'm sort of always dressed for the gym. And the other big revelation? A complete and blatant non attempt when it comes to makeup. As in, I don't wear any. This is super weird for me but since I'm not sure where everything is, I just go without it. And it's been liberating. Frightening, but liberating. I can't help but examine the roadmap that is my face and wonder if it's time for a tune up of some kind of the injectable variety but my chronic needle phobia will not allow such indulgences. But truly, I'm feeling free from the chains of workwear and foundation. It's just where I am right now. And since I've been working with a lot of old pals of late, they're cool with seeing me sans maquillage.  Plus I got a keratin treatment and now i don't even need to dry my hair, though unfortunately I still need to wash it. Ha. That's me up there, ubiquitous tee shirt, and recently found necklace I thought I lost in the move (score). But yea, no makeup. At all. Bare as the day I was born. This may not be a big deal for many of you, but it's new for me. I was raised by someone who told me I always had to be done up, so perhaps this is a late in life rebellions moment. Or maybe I'm just being lazy. Who knows how long I'll keep this up but nice for the moment.

For those of you freelance or entrepreneurial types out there, you know this life. It has its lovely moments and takes the stress of workwear completely away. As for the makeup, I dug through some boxes today and found my tinted moisturizer. I'm meeting a few friends at a workspace today so you know- a little effort. But not much.

Wondering if any of you out there dare to go bare on the regs- I'm no Alicia Keys but man, it feels good. Cause that's what's up this minimal effort of a Wednesday in Williamsburg. Yours, in trying hard not to try so hard. XO

]]>
Sheri Rosenberg
tag:sherimavenblog.com,2013:Post/1152478 2017-05-08T12:16:42Z 2017-05-08T12:16:42Z Maven recommends: A backless shoe for Summer days and nights

Good morning, Monday. It's a new week and I'm FINALLY in my new home. I can't tell you how relieved I am to be over the moving hump. Truly I'm a homebody and when my home is feeling unsteady, it's no bueno for this girl. I'm so happy to be in our new home and can't wait to keep putting finishing touches on it. Now it's back to work.

And although I'm not one for shopping for clothes/shoes/purses/wardrobe at the moment (have apartment decorating on the brain), I wanted to catch you up on a cute little trend I'm seeing, and that is the babouche. 

This is a shoe more typically reserved for the souk, but I love this look for Summer with a cropped, flared jean or a long white shirt dress. Or just popping around the neighborhood running errands after yoga. So so cute. I live for anything Moroccan inspired in general, and we all know how huge that sensibility is for interior decorating. (I've ordered two sweet new poufs from CB2, shown here. Love.) I love this pair from Brother Vellies in denim, and they also do a great pair in chocolate suede with shearling. This is a trend with a bit of a hangover from last Spring when Acne and Celine sent them down the runway, but I love them just as much this year. Such a cute look for Spring and a way to do Boho without feeling sloppy. Would also be super cute with a striped pant or white tank and jeans.

So I'm back at it and hope you're back at it, or maybe you never left it. Cause that's what's up this sliding into a new home kind of Monday in beautiful Brooklyn. Yours, in new digs and new kicks. XO

]]>
Sheri Rosenberg
tag:sherimavenblog.com,2013:Post/1150831 2017-05-01T19:56:39Z 2017-05-01T19:56:39Z Big move for me, huge day for Rei

Good afternoon, Monday. The big move is tomorrow and we're relaxing for a moment as we've pretty much sealed the last box and are ready to rock and roll. I've also had two margaritas and a crab roll in Red Hook but priorities...a girl needs a minute.

So tonight is the infamous Met Ball and it's all about Comme des Garçons, a brand I have been obsessed with since girlhood. I will never forget purchasing a chartreuse, pleated Comme des Garcons scarf in high school, knowing full well none of my classmates in Northeast Philadelphia would appreciate it, but oh how I did. I can't WAIT to see the show- opening this week and entitled: "Rei Kawakubo/Comme des Garçons: Art of the In-Between".  I die.

When Comme des and Rei first came to town, I was in high school. And I was obsessed with all the Japanese designers that came through in the 80s- Issey Miyake, Yohji, Rei Kawakubo. There was a quiet and considered rebellion to their designs that empowered me, and I feel that way to this very day. I am a big fan of the brand and have a few pieces to call my own- and if you don't have any of their perfume, you are truly missing out. I think their Hinoki, a collab with Monocle, is one of my favorite scents of all time. It's cedary goodness smells like Japan (it's intended to). Needless to say, I'm obsessed. From the fabulous stark clothes to the beautiful ads, I am a super fan of this designer and rocked by her amazing contributions to fashion and culture.

I hope the celebs and influencers and other dummies on the red carpet pay their respects in a nice manner. Nothing compares to Comme des and to Rei- I have oodles of respect and adoration and CDG is responsible for one of the first real fashion moments of my life, and for this, I am grateful. I suspect Rei and Anna's bobs will be in full effect all over the place.

Cause that's what's up this Met Ball and Moving eve in the 718. Yours, in Japanese design and making moves. XO

]]>
Sheri Rosenberg
tag:sherimavenblog.com,2013:Post/1150095 2017-04-28T14:27:20Z 2017-04-28T14:27:20Z Moving out, and moving on (I hope)

Hey, Friday. Beginning to feel like Summer here in the best city in the world. I'm here on set today and wanted to let you know I know I've been crap about this blog of late- but you know I'm MOVING. And that has almost swallowed me up whole.

So look for me to make a comeback some time after next week. I'm deep in the throes and can't wait to settle in. Cheers to the weekend- you can find me submerged under cardboard and regret. Cause that's what's up this keep keeping on kind of Friday in the 212. Yours, in change is good, but hard as f. XO

]]>
Sheri Rosenberg
tag:sherimavenblog.com,2013:Post/1149157 2017-04-25T12:52:28Z 2017-04-25T14:48:41Z Retail's overstoring problem, straight from my closet

Good morning, Tuesday. Gloomsville outside. I'm so happy to be WFH today. 

Like me, you've no doubt noticed a ton of empty storefronts in the city. My trend savvy friend Irma, whose excellent blog The Opinionator heralded big trouble for retail some time ago, was an excellent indicator of retail's big troubles. I've been reading a ton lately about brands like JC Penney, Bebe, Ralph Lauren- all closing stores while many malls are looking more like ghost towns than consumer havens.  A lot of this has to do with something called overstoring- where brands open too many stores and soaring rents and declining in-store sales (hello, Amazon) are leading to a full blown crisis. Well guess what? It ain't my fault. Because I have my very own situation not unlike big retail- I'm an overstorer in my own right. My version simply means the following- I have far too much stuff. I'm overclothed. Overshoed. Overmoisturized. And most of all, I'm over it.

So with this big move on the horizon, a big purge was in order. Bag and bags of clothes went bye bye. This weekend I held a sale and though it was not as much about making money for me, it felt amazing to share my closet with my nearest and dearest, who racked up pieces from my wardrobe and my friend Katie's amazing vintage collection, pictured above.  I was more than happy to share. I also donated a ton of pieces and even sold some stuff at the Buffalo Exchange around the block. It was a process bigger than I had ever imagined, and it was not the parting that caused me such sweet sorrow- it was the insane amount of work it took to round it all up, bag it, and lose it. 

And much like retail, I need to reassess my brand going forward. Do I need to jump on every trend bandwagon that comes through town? Nope. Do I really need another pair of yoga pants? Not really. Should I keep that tiny dress that may never get over my hips again? No way.

As we move into a lovely apartment with admittedly less storage space, I'm looking forward to fine tuning my own brand of style into an affordable and accessible collection of well edited pieces I don't just want, but need. I'm going to be tough on myself when it comes to purchases and only buy things that will either last forever or serve a practical purpose in my life. I've enjoyed asking myself the question- "Would Mary Kate or Ashley wear this?" If not, buh bye. I love their spare and strategic sense of style that is both luxe and practical at the same time. I'm going with it.

It's true I'm still going to struggle to fit all of my clothes in my new home. But I'm not going to overstore, overshop, or overdo it any more. If retail is ready for a reset, then so am I. The purge felt great and though Marie Kondo and I may never be besties, I'm trying desperately to tone it way down for 2017 and beyond. Thanks to all who came out to support me.

Cause that's what's up this perfectly stocked Tuesday in the BK. Yours, in over is, over. XO


]]>
Sheri Rosenberg
tag:sherimavenblog.com,2013:Post/1147285 2017-04-18T15:39:02Z 2017-04-18T15:40:44Z Living that #vanlife : All you need is love (and a sponsorship deal)

Good morning, Tuesday. It's a beauty of a day here in the city- feels more like Fall than Spring and I'm a big fan of this crispy air. Too bad I'm cooped up inside but that's a whole 'nother thing.

So I was reading this New Yorker piece on this little microcultural movement that's happening around #vanlife. If you're unfamiliar, just do a quick search of the hashtag on Instagram and you'll be regaled of good looking boho types, living life to the fullest, out of the back of a van. Yup, a van.

I won't pretend I'm not a sucker for a road trip- a cross country odyssey in search of G-d, the best burrito, the meaning of life. Whatever. I'm down. But the thought of living out of a van holds very little appeal. For starters, it's rare you'll see me in a bikini. And my sun salutations are never taking place in actual sunlight. My dog is a bit of a fancy paws and not sure he would take to living in the wild. Oh, and you have to live in a van. Girl, please. There's not enough patchouli in the world.

It's interesting that this has come at a time where we keep hearing about paring down, living with less, smaller homes and smaller spaces. But I would say this is a bit extreme, and really- if you are partnering with brands as you live out of said van to document your free spirited lifestyle, well- the Gen Xer in me who hates a sellout thinks that's cheating. If you are going to live out of a van, you gotta disengage. Or do you? I'm on the fence. I find the whole thing somewhat fascinating from a voyeuristic place, but I can laugh out loud when I think about how my own experience might play out. And I doubt it would go well. But truth be told- as I'm surrounded by stacks and stacks of crap as I prepare for this move ( has not happened yet, crazy as that is), I did give this #vanlife some thought. And then I thought about air conditioning, general hygiene, and my lack of bikinis.I don't look great dirty. I don't know how to cook over an open flame, or really at all. And I'm holding my ears already thinking about the fights I would have with David when it comes to #vanlife. I don't think you can do this life if you're Jewish, by the way. This is for people with Nordic roots or some such. I'm not cut out for it, and I know this. I'm a homebody, not a vanbody.

But as a culture watcher, I do think it's fascinating-  the need to live an independent life, free from the 9 to whenever, etc. etc.  But as a cynic, I really hate that this freewheeling, countercultural lifestyle comes with a sponsorship opportunity. I am not old enough to have experienced the Summer of Love, but I don't think any of the real hippies were choosing this lifestyle for "Cliff Bars" as one friend of mine said on Facebook after I posted the article. Or this quote a friend pulled: “Currently my work is storytelling and aligning with companies supporting our lifestyle and Earth.” Ugh. And ugh again. I thought all you need is love? Apparently a deal with a cool brand is all you need. Ugh to the nth power. Apparently, living in a van by the river has come a long way since Chris Farley. How chic!

I guess my takeaway, and yes I know I work in advertising, is how much I hate the commoditization of everything in our culture. From Coachella (the fashion this year is unimaginably awful ps)  to Art Basel to #vanlife or just #lifeingeneral. It's out of control and lazy and frankly, ridiculous. I'm not sure the younger gens feel that way, but I do. If you are going to check out, why sell out?  Or at least why sell out in such an obvious way? It's clear they're not in on the joke. Living in a van for money is serious business. That alone is beyond disturbing. Why oh why does everything" have to become a "thing"? Why does a lifestyle now almost always turn into a lifestyle brand?

Oh and one more note on why this is so bothersome- some people have to live in vans for a much more tragic reason- they're homeless. And not by choice. So glorifying pretty people that sleep in a van and get paid for it makes me a little throw up in my mouthy. I just hate that everything has a price tag, even living off the grid.  I fully support people tuning in, turning on, and dropping out. But drop out. Really drop out. I'd have much more appreciation for you then. Maybe I really am a hippie chick after all.

Cause that's what's up this not living in a van by the river, even for money kind of Tuesday in the BK. Yours, in well orchestrated hashtags. XO


]]>
Sheri Rosenberg
tag:sherimavenblog.com,2013:Post/1147033 2017-04-17T13:55:46Z 2017-04-17T14:13:25Z Hannah, Carrie, and moving on

Spoiler alert: If you haven't watched the "Girls" finale yet, don't read. But what are you waiting for???

Good morning, Monday. It's cloudy and warm in the city and hope you all had a lovely Easter Weekend. I've been packing nonstop and truly worry about my mental health when it comes to the amount of clothing I've amassed in the five or so years I've lived in this apartment. I can't. I just can't. 

But in between packing and working, I found some time to watch the finale of "Girls", the final episode aired last night and I will surely miss this masterpiece of female rights of passage. And even though I watched this whole series as not a girl, but a woman, I still connected to its raw take on growing up girl and all the issues that confront a young woman in this city. 

I am from the era of Carrie Bradshaw, whose exploits I enjoyed watching beyond belief. But "Sex and the City" was a different time, and a very different show- dated now for certain. But in almost every character, we found an icon, a heroine, a piece of ourselves- and all the characters were women v.s girls. On "Girls", the opposite is true- each character was so deeply flawed and fucked up, it was hard to like any of them really, and that's what made the show so fantastic. I love a show that explores something deeper, darker, and is not afraid of being a bit loathsome. Hannah Horvath- the awkward girl with the in your face nudity and in your face point of view. Last night's episode showed Hannah post birth of her baby,  Grover. And in typical Hannah form, motherhood was not some beautiful moment where the hormonal stars align and you bask in the glow of feminine ideals. Nope. I wonder if "Girls" will ever feel dated the way "SATC" does now? Even if it does, it will always be a great time capsule for this moment in time. 

Hannah's recent pregnancy from a one night stand with a surfer was a game changer. Cause she made up her mind, she was keeping her baby. Fast forward to last night- the baby is born and  little Grover is beyond a challenge- and I have no doubt I would feel the same way. He seemed to squeal every time she came near him, and breastfeeding was not something that was easily achieved- Hannah exclaims through most of the episode "he hates me" and then proceeds to leave him with mom and Marnie while she goes out on a walkabout, schooling a young wayward woman along the way who is petulant for little reason. And because her bestie Marnie had little else on her dance card, she chose to move in with Hannah upstate and become a second mom of sorts to the adorable Grover. But even though the baby seemed to love Marnie's vibe, Marnie was as lost as ever, in a role and a life she could not seem to grasp. I love that Marnie tells Hannah's mom she was considering law school because "she loves rules". Perhaps that's her struggle- that life has very few rules, and for those that can't color outside the lines, it can often be terrifying. What's so magical about "Girls" is its deep dive into how tough it is to grow up, to go through those rights of passage (now motherhood) and to not sail through them with a perfect score. Life is not perfect, life is often a hot mess. I can relate to all of it, really- I've always been shit at rights of passage- I hated the idea of the prom, I never thought I'd marry, and I remain childless by choice because the permanence of such a situation has always completely freaked me out. 

As I sit surrounded by cardboard and piles of forgotten clothes, I feel spent. I've moved so many times in my life, but each time brings up so many silly cliches- the shedding of things we no longer need or want, the chance for a new start, the word itself- moving. It conjures up so much and as I watched the finale last night, I felt every inch of Hannah's meshugas, because even though I am a grown woman, life can sometimes make me feel very much like a girl. And I'm so happy the show did not end with the girls locked arm in arm, chasing a Bushwick sunset. Instead, the final episode focused solely on Hannah, baby Grover, Marnie, and Hannah's mom. Because becoming a woman means leaving things and people behind that no longer fit in or work for what you're after. But becoming a woman does not mean you completely disregard all the things that made you a girl. It just means you need to move on to get by. We know Jessa will be Jessa, Shosh will be Shosh, and Elijah will become a Broadway superstar. We don't need to see what happens there, and we know that Hannah will find her way- to motherhood, to love, to career- to all of it. The journey will just be awkward and weird. There will probably be no Mr. Big, no dream apartment or closet, and no clink of champagne glasses in a cool Manhattan bar. Strangely enough, Lena Dunham's success is more like that now than not. But Hannah? Nope. She'll struggle and find her way through this thing called life. And so will we. PS- eventually Hannah gets young Grover to latch on- and just like that, the show ends.

I loved "Girls". It was human, it was annoying, it was real. And most importantly, it was a real moment in time. Thanks for the memories an now I go on to pack and fret and stumble my way through yet another move and life moment. I am planning to make myself a nice closet though. I may not get it right all the time, but I can be a little bit Hannah and a little bit Carrie and still be all me.

Cause that's what's up this girl you'll be a woman soon kind of Monday in the 718. Yours, in ending and beginnings. XO

]]>
Sheri Rosenberg
tag:sherimavenblog.com,2013:Post/1145433 2017-04-10T15:13:48Z 2017-04-10T15:13:48Z Maven recommends: A face wash that leaves no trace of makeup, and even less regrets

Good morning, Monday. It's a glorious day in New York City. 70 degrees and perfect. Loving it. This weekend was spent waist deep in boxes, with little breaks here and there to get some fresh air and soak in the city. When moving, I like to get a head start so I can have a more balanced and less frantic approach. Pack a few boxes, take a break. And repeat. PS Trump is talking about the glory of Springtime as he swears in Neil Gorsuch and pretends to be sincere. I shit you not. Ugh. But back to something more personal as it pertains to my move, and most importantly, my face.

Because  all of this hard work has me craving some easy routines when it comes to daily life. And I just have to shout out Trish McEvoy's amazing all in one cleanser/water called Long-Wear Face and Eye Makeup remover, that wipes off with cotton and takes it all off. And I do mean all. 

As a grown woman there are several non-negotiables in my life-  I must work with people I like, I must find time to exercise, and I must wash my face. Or I completely shut down. PS- often I work with not nice people and often I forget to exercise, but not wash my face at night? Nah, kid. Not gonna happen.

Washing my face makes me feel like a grown up. Like I'm no longer that girl that falls asleep in a full face of makeup, in a Jack and Coke stupor, in a slip dress and perhaps somewhere one did not intend to wake up. Like that's never happened to you.  And even though I somehow used to enjoy that next day makeup look (goes well with a hangover), I am not that woman anymore. I wake up every day in my own home (thank goodness), and I wash my damn face every night. And that's the truth. Waking up with a clean face makes me feel like I'm ok. It's that simple.  Washing my face every night makes me feel responsible, reasonable, and safe. Weird you say? Perhaps you did not go wilding quite as much as I did when I was a young one. It's the little things, really.

But truthfully, as time goes by, my skincare regime has become a bit of an epic. If, say, when I was young I could compare my skincare situation to literature, my book would have been a short little fairy tale. Now? More like the Iliad, the Odyssey, and Ulysses rolled into one. So I don't mind a hack when it comes to taking it all off, and this product is simply a miracle. I have loved on micellar water of late, but only as a first swipe at a full day's face of makeup, a prep for a deeper cleanse with something else. This product takes off everything and that's it. You can head straight to the rest of your regime after this, as you thank the Lord that you're not too wasted to wash your face, and you'll have no regrets tomorrow.

So if I can give you ladies a bit of simple advice- wash your face. Every night. Oh, and have no regrets. Even if you wake up in last night's slip dress somewhere unfamiliar, the least you can do is wash your face. I can't help with the rest. That just takes time. It will all be ok. I promise. Plus when you're young, last night's makeup is kind of chic. When you're a bit deeper into this thing called life, not so much.

Cause that's what's up this no regrets and well cleansed kind of Monday in the 718. Yours, in clean living in just one step. XO

Link to buy here. XO

]]>
Sheri Rosenberg
tag:sherimavenblog.com,2013:Post/1144442 2017-04-06T13:41:31Z 2017-04-06T14:25:03Z Throwback Thursday: The Beatles in India

Good morning, Thursday. Again with the rain in the city. Oh what a dirge.  Too much gloominess is not good for my soul. 

So it's TBT and thought I'd break you off a little inspiration in the form of the Beatles now infamous visit to India to hang with the Maharishi, their ladies, and Mia Farrow. At a time when the world has certainly gone cuckoo, it's hard not to think about a little divine or spiritual intervention and these photos are so beautiful.  And even though the Maharishi turned out to have less than celestial motives, these pictures still conjure up a feeling of peace, love, and happiness. And I need all of that right now, and so do you. And considering that regardless of the fraudulent nature of said Maharishi, the Beatles wrote the bloody "White Album" as a result of their quest for meaning. So there you have it. At a time when we're all seeking and searching and trying to sense make, I'm drawn to the more spiritual pursuits. Or at least a decent martini.  Read more about their trip here. On days like this, I can't help but listen to this classic album, it's beyond a masterpiece.

Everyone knows I'm way more Stones than Beatles, but these pictures of exploration and a quest to find some meaning in a crazy world are very much aligned with my mood today.  Plus those outfits. That marigold color.  All of it. 

I am so ready for my very own Summer of Love. Cause something's gotta give. Now give me a Pepsi. (I kid, I kid).

Dear Prudence, open up your eyes.

Cause that's what's up this TBT in the 212. Yours, in opening your eyes and looking around, round, round, round, round. Come together. XO

]]>
Sheri Rosenberg
tag:sherimavenblog.com,2013:Post/1144180 2017-04-05T15:23:35Z 2017-04-06T13:00:49Z Maven at work: The importance of being nice

Good morning, party peeps. I'm working from home today with a sick dog (on the mend thanks to his amazing docs at One Love in BK)- he has a bad tummy which I thought was much worse, but seems to be feeling all the anxiety with the move and probably should not have changed up his treats. Live and learn. Glad he is feeling better. I hate when he gets sick. Ugh. Poor little guy

From time to time I like to talk about work, because it's important to me and if there is any way I can be a mentor for people, I love the opportunity to share what I know. And here's what- you better be nice. And not just nice- flexible and nice. Because if you're not, you're going to wonder why your career suddenly sounds like crickets.

There are exceptions of course. I can name many creative people- photographers, big time creative directors, artists- that are, well, difficult. I can tolerate difficult when difficult is for good. I can't tolerate it when it's toxic, demeaning, or straight up nasty. And if you're going to be a big personality, that's fine. But please know that we live in a world now that is challenging beyond comprehension. I can only speak from my vantage point in advertising, but I will tell you this- it has never been harder to do what we do. Clients are tough and demanding. Budgets are tough and demanding. Timelines are beyond tough and demanding. So how do we manage to make great work and not fall apart? By working with people that really get it. And by getting it, I mean sticking up for making the best work possible, but also being nice about how you do it. 

Listen I know this is a bit of a touchy subject, particularly for women in the workplace. We are dinged for being too strident, too intense, too "bitchy". And for many of you who know me, I'm not exactly a meek woman. I'm a strong personality as well but I truly believe in being nice- approaching tough situations with as much grace and compassion as possible while still making my recommendations and vision clear. Do I not have moments where I'm a bit of a nasty woman? Yes. I do. But nasty women still need to be cool with being nice. In a world where innocent children are dying from chemical weapons and a lunatic is running the American asylum, it behooves all of us to try a little bit harder to be nice in the face of so much craziness. I shouldn't have to think being nice is a weakness. Because it just isn't. Yes and yes there are moments that require some muscle but overall, keep it nice and nice things will happen.

Advertising, as you know, is not life or death. I guarantee you that being nice and respectful does not in any way make you seem like a wimp. It, in fact, makes people want to work with you. And I hate that women get dinged for being tough way, way more than men- but I'm going gender agnostic here and calling for kindness. We are all here just trying to get it all done in very challenging times. People will always respect your passion and point of view, but tempering that with good vibes can't hurt you. I don't want to work with people who aren't nice, and that's the truth. As I mentioned, I think women often feel the need to be tough as nails- I'm indeed tough as nails, but I do try and handle the daily stress of doing business in a kind manner. Do unto others and such. I know the word "nice" feels a bit soft, but it's way better than being a jerk. Trust me.

I remember a time in my career when kicking and screaming was not only tolerated, but applauded. The tougher you were on people, the better results you got from them. I'm not sure that's true anymore. Because the ability to stick, move, and flex has never been more crucial. So I believe in the power of nice- regardless of my gender or crazy deadline. Can't we all just get along? I feel lucky to do what I do and want others to enjoy working with me. And even though this particular vendor was on brand for the gig, their attitude was anything but. Be flexible, be considerate, and most of all, be nice.  Be strong and passionate and sincere. But sweet Lord, be nice. It's just to hard otherwise.

Cause that's what's up this work wisdom of a Wednesday in the 718. Yours, in trying a little tenderness. XO

]]>
Sheri Rosenberg