the world according to sherimaven

Good morning, Monday. It was a hard weekend on so many levels- tired from work stress of course, but really impossible to comprehend what we as a country and as families and parents and childrens and human beings have experienced as a result of the horrible events in Connecticut.

If this year's election is any indicator, we are a divisive bunch. I think there's some perverse pride in that- that we can argue about whatever we want to because we are free. And though I thank the Lord for that, we are in big trouble on so many other levels it's absolutely terrifying.The mind almost can't process the unspeakable acts of a person that was in himself, a child. I'm finding it hard to discuss any of this really but what I want to say is this- the death of children for no reason is not polarizing, or it simply can't be. I don't care what color you are, how much money you have, what team you bat for, what political party you root for. I don't care if you're a Yankees fan, Mets fan, Nets Fan, Knicks fan, or Lakers fan. I don't care if you like west coast better than east coast, Brooklyn better than Manhattan, or the Upper East vs. the Upper West. It makes no difference if you eat carbs, gluten, run marathons, or sit quietly at home watching Bravo. I care not if you work in advertising, metalworking, butchering, or dog sitting. Because whoever you are and whatever you do, this catastrophe has to have hit a chord with you- a deep chord that will play for many years to come. In the days after 9/11, I was living in New York- and we were united. United that some force of evil came into our hometown and took away our friends and family. Cut to now, and somehow, that same feeling of needing to band together- for comfort, strength, and most of all to overcome.

It's not simply a matter of gun control or mental health- it's about practicing compassion. It's little things like holding the door for somebody, helping them with their bag, and teaching your children that we are all worthy of love and kindness and respect. People talk about the Mayans and the fact that the world is due to end on Friday. I think it some ways, it ended last week. Or at least the world as we knew it- a world where admittedly we talk about everything and anything on social networks but have lost the ability to truly connect. It's hard to think about children and brave adults losing their lives so we can start loving each other, but that's the only way I can get through this. THIS MUST NEVER HAPPEN AGAIN. There are going to be crazy people, there are going to be people who shoot guns, there are going to be Tarantino movies and violent video games and twisted shit. But ladies and gentlemen- THIS MUST NEVER HAPPEN AGAIN. We need to teach kindness in every school right along with math and science. For years, we've been fearful that the Chinese and every other nation is leaps ahead of our young people when it comes to test scores and achievements and education that prepares us for the future. I'll tell you what- learning how to be a decent human being and infusing learning with some spirituality (I'm not talking about religion here) on how to treat others is just beyond necessary. How so many lives were taken is so out of my mental framework and all of yours- the only thing we can do is be better human beings because of it.

You may find this idealistic- I hear you. I'm still angry as hell and feel anxiety every time I pick up the paper or turn on the television. It's too much to take and it's horrid. But if we all start doing things to make this country and the world a better place, we're going to heal. I'd argue that educating al lof us on how to be kind and non-violent is every bit as important as adding 1 +1. I'm sitting on a plane right now for LA and praying for all of those little souls and grown souls, and praying for those of us left here to come to terms with this unspeakable tragedy.Please be kind to someone today- even if you don't know them, even if you don't like the way they look or don't approve of the way they eat carbs or whatever silly terms of judgement we employ on a daily basis. It's the only way.

That and making sure each and every American has zero access to guns and 100% access to stellar mental health treatment and awareness. Really, that's all I've got this still sad and broken kind of Monday 30,000 feet above Earth. We shall overcome, because what other choice do we have? Oh, and take it easy on yourself, while we're at it. Amdist so much stress, basic human kindness starts with none other than the way you treat that special someone- yourself.The time is now. XO

My heart breaks for those in Oregon and CT. and anywhere else where human life is being taken for absolutely no reason because the human race has gotten insanely out of control.

Praying for peace and thinking of those who thought today or yesterday or the day before was going to be just another day and some maniac took that away. No more guns. No more violence. Peace on Earth... XO

Good morning, Thursday. Many of you are Facebook friends and saw my ranting last night about the 12.12.12 concert. Though the cause was fantastic and I'm hoping they raised an outsized amount of moola, I was left feeling like this was not a concert for anyone under a certain age. I mean, here were some of my fav bands of all time (The Stones, The Who, Floyd) looking like old freaking men. (That's because they are old freaking men). In my mind, it would have been way cooler to do a Coachella style line-up- you know, something the kids could dance to and maybe throw in one or two of these old bastards instead of a full line up of them. Between Bruce's sweaty armpits and Daltrey's unbuttoned shirt to the waist, I was a bit grossed out. Yea, these guys are legends- I know nostalgia sells concert tickets, but is it really true that only baby boomers can afford a ticket to things like this? How about cutting ticket prices and having a show everyone can enjoy, in more cities, around the globe simultaneously, to raise just as much money if not more? Just my two cents. I will however note that when it comes to class, Clapton always brings it. He dresses impeccably and I love him because of it, that and the fact he's still a genius guitar player. But like I said last night, perhaps our best rock legends should throw in the towel- after all, you don't see Michael Jordan playing for the NBA anymore, do ya? This bodes particularly true for the lead singers- Pete and Keith can still bring it, but Mick and Rog look a bit like marionettes when they are out there. Yikes.

Ok, onward. Speaking of nostalgia, I do go for a vintage look from time to time, and this little pair of pumps from Loeffler Rabdall are what's up when you're looking for a way to wear a heel without breaking your bloody neck. The Tamsin is one of my favorite shoes- they look so fab with an ankle length pant, a tight, shorts, or whatever you want to rock them with. I'm partial to the three I'm showing you here (the hairy polka dots are my fav), but they also do this show in more neutral and every day leathers. It's a pretty little shoe that is ladylike, comfortable, and chic. And the toe cleavage is just right. These are sort of the "just right" of shoes in general- good heel height, great with everything, and sexy enough to give you a little boost when you need one. Love.

And if you happen to be in New York this week, their sample sale is starting today. I have no idea how I will get there, but I may give it a shot. Just as Mick and the boys will take the stage till their dying day, so will I schlep around in the middle of a work shitstorm to buy a pair of great shoes. Cause that's what's up this 2 inch heel of a Thursday on the glorious isle of Manhattan. Here's hoping they raised tons of money and more for all the victims of Sandy. Things are still not back to normal and my big wish for the holidays is some relief and comfort for all those that have suffered. XO

To donate to the Robin Hood fund if you are looking to give to the victims of Sandy, please go to:

https://www.robinhood.org/default.aspx?umbPage=/take-action.aspx

http://www.loefflerrandall.com/

To break up the day with a great sample sale, go here:

http://ny.racked.com/archives/2012/11/29/loeffler_randall_4.php

 

Good morning, Wednesday. Well it's 12/12/12 and it's a pretty one here in the city. My neurotic side thinks some weird meltdown will happen today, but my positive side says the earth is well in order today thus chaos will be kept at bay as the sun, moon, and stars align. Regardless, I had a funny thought as I was stuffing a kong full of treats for Khan last night so he would keep quiet while I was on a 9 pm conference call with Japan.

I was thinking about how stressed I feel lately and how every day I feel like I'm in the race of my life. The funny part is- I'm not much of a competitor, at least naturally. But through evolution and circumstance, I've become tough to beat in certain areas. Too bad I'm really more type C- than type A to really care. In the world of advertising, I'm surrounded with many people that are Type A times ten, of whom I've talked about before on this here blog and how I'm really just a lazy sod who would much prefer to watch television and loaf around than just about anything else on the regs.It's a good thing I live in New York City (NOT). Hardly a city for chililng out and way more a city for those seeking the tippy top and best in class.

Now there's two wonderfully smart and beautiful women I work with- both amazing at their jobs, on point, on their shit, and seemingly so composed. Not only do they kick ass at work, but they are also both triathletes, and have done Iron Mans and all sorts of other challenging things. And then this weekend's Times had an article about Wall Street type A dudes that instead of merely going to the gym on the weekends, do those "tough mudder" races where they risk electrocution, dehydration, and exhaustion. And you really can't blink these days without seeing some status of one of your hyper thyroided friends about Cross Fit, boot camp, or acrobatic yoga. I'm not mad at these people, but I can't help but wonder how many of our parents, or our parents parents, knew someone who was in a triathlon or even knew what one was. Yea, it seems like running really took off with Jim Fixx back in the day, but let's not forget he keeled over dead from a heart attack. I guess I'm just wondering when did everything get so competitive? So intense? So unneccesarily challenging? Do you really need to risk electrocution on a Saturday to stay in shape or prove your mettle? We've simply become a world where keeping up with the Joneses is no longer enough, you now have to pass them in a Roadrunner like frenzy (meep meep).

I guess what I really want to know is- can't we all just chill the fuck out? Or do I just need to move somewhere where competition is not the key to a good life? I'm just not in the mood to race you, chase you, or get covered my mud for a good time. If you have recommends on where I could go where such competitiveness was not required, send my way. I'm too lazy to look myself. (PS- am I becoming a socialist?)

And that's what's up this competition is overrated kind of Wednesday in the 212. Is harder and faster really always better?  On this 12/12/12, the last repititive date we will see in our lifetimes, why not take a break and simply enjoy the afternoon? I'm starting to think life in the big city is marathon enough. On this triple threat of a 12 spot, let's all just take it down a notch. XO

Hi, Tuesday. 

That is all. XO

Good morning, Monday.

There are indeed certain mornings in New York where the sky yawns and the lethargy of gloom takes you to another place, a warm place where they play Neil Young and sip hot beverages and stretch with arms overhead. Such a familiar coziness to this very gloomy Monday- the Manhattan Bridge shrouded in fog and everyone walking by in a bit of a haze. If you happen to be in this neck of the woods today, I suggest putting a little Neil Young on Spotify and enjoy the sleepy solitude of this moody Monday, I'm all about Manhattan feeling like Wuthering Heights.  And because of this shadowy ghost of a morning, I'm not quite awake, but I'm not sleeping either. I'll take this in between-ness as I hold a requiem for the weekend that went way too fast. And listen to Neil Young and how he used to date Picasso. I'm driftin' back...Neil Young is simply the best accompaniment to a sludgy day such as this. And since we've been chatting, the buildings usually quite visible outside my window are completey gone. Poof. Like that. Fog rolling in deep...

Cause that's what's up this mister of a Monday in the 212. The builidngs outside my window are barely there, and I'm reminded of Less than Zero and am definitely going to "disappear here", so stop looking for me. XO

Here's a link to a Neil favorite, "After the Gold Rush"...divine:

Good morning, Friday. I usually hit you with a fiver on Fridays, but listen up- after a week of feeling great defeat and wondering where my inspiration would come from and if it ever would again, last night's amazing premiere of "In Vogue: The Editor's Eye" socked it to me RIGHT. To say that Vogue has been a huge part of my life and DNA would be a gross understatement. I've told you all a million times that as a young girl in Philadelphia, my dreams were very much Vogue inspired, dappled with some old school Details Magazine, WWD, and the Village Voice to boot. But Vogue, VOGUE. I think Vogue taught me to see. And of course, how to dress.

The documentary traces Vogue throughout its 120-year history, and watching editor after editor come on and talk about their roles and experiences there had me near faint about a hundred times. There's Polly Mellen (in a hopefully ironic Juicy sweatsuit at home) talking about a snake kissing the ear of Nastassja Kinski, Carlyne Cerf ranting on about how much she loves, in heavily and bullet laced French English "the street, street, street". And there's Tonne Goodman championing American chic in a sea of British editors. Speaking of which, obviously Anna is up in the cut, but few can touch the genius of Grace Coddington, whose insanely fantastical brain is one of the best in fashion and beyond. The dark horse for me was Phyllis Posnick, whose instincts are sort of bananas. Her shoots with Irving Penn are some of the most beautiful photographs of all time, and her eye for details like finding the perfect bee to sting those tangerine lips are just beyond. And Camilla Nickerson's cheekbones could cut freaking glass. She is sooo chic.

You have to understand that as a producer all of these years, the sheer will of these amazing women is mind boggling. I am a huge fan of people that don't back down from what they want, what is aesthetically perfection, and what their point of view means to them. I am someone that has often almost fallen down dead in pursuit of the perfect photographer, illustrator, or prop builder for a project, because I can't stand it otherwise. And that's what I love about fashion and Vogue in particular- there's no compromising when it comes to creating a fantasy, a narrative, a take on where culture is headed. When Michaela wore Lacroix couture with jeans on Anna's first cover, the world changed. For me, anyway. And let's not even talk about producing shoots before there was Google, or digital photography, or retouching. YOU GOT WHAT YOU GOT so it had to be perfect. And there was no click of the mouse research to find a camel for a shoot, you just had to find one. On your bloody own. That certainly made life more interesting.

And when Polly Mellen (who Avedon once famously said sprung from the rib of Vreeland) talks about shooting Lisa Taylor and bevy of beauties in a bathhouse with Helmut Newton, you know here ability to shake things up and scare the shit out of people was second to none. This photo is from that shoot and remains one of my favorite fashion photos of all time. It was so suggestive, so provocative, so come hither at the time, and really, it still is. And that dress? I'd still wear the shit out of that today. Rachel Zoe owes this shoot a huge thank you as her whole 70s glam thing is taken directly from it. My fav quote from last night was when Polly was recalling a conversation with Mrs. Vreeland about how nobody wanted to work with her after five weeks in the Orient with Avedon and how she felt like she had alienated everyone with her fascist perfectionism to which DV said, "Polly, who needs friends? Get on with it". And get on with it, she did.

There were panthers, camels, sumo wrestlers and all kinds of insanity to add to the brilliance. And as I watched and savored each second of the documentary, I realized this- I will always have fashion and its ability to inspire, transform, and push when there seems to be little else. I can always muster up excitement for a good old Polly Mellen story (my friend John was texting me that he needed oxygen during her appearance) and I can always always always talk about fashion, look at it, touch it, be it. I feel lucky that something touches me as much as style and fashion do, and when I'm feeling a bit blue, I can always turn to Vogue in my time of need to take me somewhere else, or bring me back to who I am. Thanks for all the memories, Vogue. You're the best. 

Oh and Linda Evangelista's cameo is too much to take. I live for her- always my favorite. Strangely absent was Kate Moss, but including everything that Vogue has done would be impossible- how gorgeous is this Lindbergh photo of the supers, ps? So amazing. I also worship at the altar of Jade Hobson, who got Liz Taylor to pose without hairspray and witnessed the young love of Patti and Keith. Too. Much. 

All I know is every reference and mention was familiar to me, but somehow they never get old. And as I sit here and muddle through a million pieces of paperwork and process and layer to produce three back to back shoots, I'll be thinking of Polly and Carlyne and Grace and all the rest and somehow, their gumption will get me through. Thank goodness for fashion for helping me to see, and inspiring my often unrelenting point-of-view. And to Vogue for always, in the words of Anna Wintour, always looking forward and never back. Without you, I'm really nothing.

And that's what's up this fashion forward Friday in the 212. Have a chic and inspired weekend. Let's hear it for the tastemakers and their unwavering devotion to creativity, culture, and DNA driven style.XO

Oh hey, Thursday. I thought I would pen you a little note on this chilly morning. And it goes something like this:

Dearest Thursday,

Though you will inevitably slam me with an infinite number of status meetings, catch-ups, and check-ins, I will not be daunted by your stressful bounty of insanity. Because as the (advertising) natives get restless and require me to strategize making it through another day in the asylum, I'm not feeling any pain, because I for one am gazing at this photo of Veruschka, she of 60s supermodel muse fame, in Marrakech, and in my head, I am right there, in that fabulous outfit, peering through those lattice gates onto some St. Laurent inspired garden. Hey Thursday, you don't scare me, cause in my mind, I'm somewhere else. Somewhere where the air is scented with frangipani, jasmine, and musk. Where the sweet air is heavy with seduction, adventure, and smoke. A place where shoes don't matter (no need) and a walk become more of a saunter. Where there is no subway, no well dressed account team, and absolutely no process documents. Oh, I'm so not here. I'm there. Now bugger off. I've got pajamas and kaftans to wear and adventures the color of saffron and crimson to have.

Warm (very warm) regards,

 

The Maven

 

(And that's what's up this penning letters to weekdays kind of Thursday in the two one tizzle. Perhaps you'd like to pen your own letter, find amuse, or envision your own escape route.  XO

Good morning, Tuesday. It sure is gloomy here in the city and all I really want to do is get back in bed and cuddle with Khan (David, you can be there too) and watch some quality Bravo television. Or what I'd really like to do is take a vacation. A real vacation. As in completely off the grid for 7-10 days at the very least. As in, peace out lunatics. As in, well you know...

This all hit me this morning as I watched the Today show this am (when oh when are they going to help Savannah with her flaccid hair, when Lord when? She needs dry shampoo in a big way).  As I was getting dressed and frantically trying to find my other shoe as Khan looked on, I couldn't help but stop and watch the story about how Americans are taking fewer and fewer vacations. That they have the days from their employers but just don't take them, because they fear that they will be made redundant, that the risk of being overloaded and overwhelmed with work when one comes back is too great, or that there's simply too much to do to just pick up and leave. And when you think about the French and their 30 days of vacation, it stands to reason that we have all lost our damn minds. Nowhere is this more prevalent than my industry, advertising.

After all of these years in this mad industry, I've noticed a big reluctance or even perverse buyer's remorse when it comes to booking a vacation. In adland, there is never a right time to take time off, and for anyone in our industry to openly discussed a booked trip to the Maldives or to Minnesota is in poor form. If you book it, for G-d's sake don't discuss it, unless you're quietly telling your team or your boss that you will indeed need some time off, wincing a bit the whole time you say it because well, it's not acceptable that you should have a life and not be part of some new business pitch, some million dollar shoot, or jockeying for position to take what's rightfully yours. But that taking comes with a price, and the price is truly your life, or lack thereof. Often I think there's almost a fear amongst people in our industry of not knowing what to do with themselves on vacation- it's easier to connect with the cute boys and girls in the office than it it with one's own family- what the hell is there to do with your family for a week anyway? And don't even think about showing your favorite snaps from the Loire Valley- nobody wants to see them and nobody cares. Now get back to work.

I've seen it happen in my very own life many times. When I've canceled plans to go somewhere because I was afraid to give up a shoot and have somebody cover for me. I recall David feeling edgy as we left for Paris because his agency was doing some huge pitch that he was feeling crappy about not being a part of. To some of you, this will sound familiar. To others, it may sound insane. But what's common and true for almost all of us is you really, really need to take a vacation. All of us do. In this 24/7/365 existence, the value of some time off to shut off is probably asi mportant to your health as eating your greens. And there should be no negotiating. 

As a country we've always taken great pride in our alpha work ethic, but as the French and Spanish and Italians and pretty much everyone else laughs behind our backs as they toast us from Rioja, Morocco, or Jamaica, is it really worth it? Is the economy better because we're working harder than ever before? Does the midnight oil ever go out, even when one is sick, tired, or simply in need of a good hug? Nope. None of the above. And as we search for ways to be more productive and recover from the economic meltdown, maybe it's simply a matter of taking some time off- to recharge, refresh, and mellow the fuck out. 

So when I scanned my Facebook feed this morning, I couldn't help but roll my eyes when i came across a status update from Vayama, an online travel agency specializing in overseas adventures. Before me was the above picture, with the caption "Have you ever visited the Sea Cliffs in Etratat, France'?  Um, no, no I haven't. But dang I would love to. Right after I finish this project, or maybe not, because even planning a vacation feels like too much work amidst all of this work.

And lest you think I'm complaining about how much work I have or becoming a Communist, I'm not. I'm simply saying we need to rethink this vacation thing, cause the stress envy/I work more hours than you do thing is starting to get on my nerves. We all need a vacation, now more than ever. You have my permission to take one, and hopefully when I ask for time off, I'll have yours. Because life is going on all around me and I'm afraid I just may be missing it.

Cause that's what's up this sea cliffs are nice this time of year kind of Tuesday in the hardest working city on Earth. I have ten status calls today and many fish to fry.  All the love and XO.

Hi, Monday. Wow what a great weekend. Saw a dear friend tie the knot in Miami and let me tell you- the place got a little bit under my skin. Sure I know I bitched about Miami till the fat lady sang, but it's nice to visit a place and realize how many happy memories you made there, how many interesting characters you encountered, and how quality of life there was pretty fantastic. Make no mistake- I'm a New Yorker, it's just that MIami's so damn nice this time of year. I am so devastated I couldn't stay for Basel- my absolute favorite time of year but there's just too much work to do back at the ranch. That said, these shoes from Gucci encapsulate the glitz and glam of Miami, and are not only perfect for the holidays somewhere warm, but absolutely the tops for art world parties and copious cocktails under the swaying palms- can so picture these with an ivory silky jumpsuit or vintage kaftan- super 70s glam and super gorgeous and sexy, and in my favorite color these are a dream. For all you arty types attending the Basel week festivities, you're all a bunch of lucky duckies. For the rest of us, I'll be dreaming of a holiday season somewhere warm and decidedly well heeled. Cause that's what's up this back at it kinda Monday in the 212. Big ups to my peeps in the MIA this week and mazel tov to my dear friends Kat and Edvin for a lovely life together. XO

 

http://shop.nordstrom.com/s/gucci-noah-crystal-sandal/3400834?origin=keywords...