the world according to sherimaven

Good morning, Wednesday...lots coming up for us and think we are both trying to wrap our heads around the move, the newness, the oldness, etc. It's exciting to say the very least, so think we were looking for a bit of chill time to take it all in. 7 years in Miami? Unreal. PS, don't you just love the above early Helmut Newton photo? That will be me soon.

And speaking of unreal(istic), many of you know that I can sometimes be prone to fantasy (as is my wont), so allow me to share my latest one with you, this one involving my next generation of living in the city. I'm not sure if it's my older status or my living in a lovely doorman building in Miami all this time, but I've been thinking about the Upper East Side a lot lately (yes, really). I know rents are cheaper up there, and I must admit the thought of a nice doorman building, a remodeled kitchen, and a gym downstairs are all very appealing. But  perhaps an interior done by Celerie Kemble, she of luxe neutrality and such would compensate for the lack of Bleecker Street in my backyard. The UES was always a guilty pleasure of mine- it was the site of my first apartment in New York and it's a very civilized little nabe. It's my fantasy of a New York seen in Arthuer Elgort photos, adventures with Jackie, Woody Allen movies, and old issues of W featuring all of my favorite old dames like Nan Kempner, Annette De La Renta, and Pat Buckley. Oh, and Laduree just opened up there, so you have it.

And as I contemplate a freelance life which could have me working from home, I fantasize about my lovely high rise, waking up in the morning on some apartment close to the park, and walking Khan past Gracious Home, Grace's Marketplace, and all of my other favorite little haunts up there. There's something comforting about that neck of the (non)woods- it's not cool but it's definitely chic in a wasp envy way and it's classic New York- the 60s between Park and Lex have always felt magical to me, though close to the park in the 60s wouldn't suck neither.  And it's super civlized and good for my little baby Khan, close to Central Park and such and full of other small dogs loved on by their doting mamas. So stay with me, here. I'm about to get to what I'm wearing in this fantasy...

If I am to stay at home and work, I need to dress accordingly. Many times I've found myself staying in my gym clothes all day when I work from home here, but that won't do in my version of New York stay at home worker bee. Working at home and looking chic is tricky, but  I think these Dolce and Gabbana pajamas will do the job (they're a few seasons old, but times are tough) as well as these fantastic little slippers from Tom's (for the people, darling), for Neiman Marcus, or maybe these amazing ones from Stubbs and Wootton to suit my oft bouts of indecision, in the chicest of ways. I may throw on some pearls for good measure, hair piled high upon head, glasses halfway down nose, Khan the wonder dog in tow sitting on my lap or perhaps on one of his many Mario Buatta designed pillows (though I so hate chintz).  From time to time I will rotate the Dolce jammies for some by mmm, maybe Olatz Schnabel.  I'm going for a Hugh Hefner brand of chic with a touch of femme for good measure. Oh and if I have to walk the pooch in the afternoon or go get some midday botox or train with Tracey Anderson, I'll just throw on a fur and some huge Tom Ford glasses and go. And that will be that. Just wanted to create a little picture for you, or acutally, more for me. Cause that's what's up this 60s between Park and Lexington kind of Wednesday in the very un Upper East Side of Miami. All the love, big kisses, mwah mwah mwah. Meet me at JG Melon for a burger, won't you? XO

Good morning, Tuesday. I'm waiting for Comcast to come and see what's doing with my connection...it's wonky and takes forever to upload and download stuff so apologize for the lack of visual stimuli on my posts. I'm watching the Today Show and can't believe the story I just saw about a pregnant woman who won the Chicago Marathon, past her due date, and gave birth 7 hours later. Maybe my interweb connection is victim to what I've been thinking about of late- activity overload is alive and well and living in women like she of the beyond pregnant marathon run. Too. Much.

I'm sorry to say- that's just idiotic, or it is to me. What was she trying to prove? When are we going to stop being so alpha already? Why can't we just be pregnant, old, or chubby anymore? As a society, we are so focused on doing everything in a very extreme way- is it really so bad to just "be"? As someone who was more type "C+" growing up, I found adult life to often be challenging- and now, I'm one of them- trying to do everything, be everything, succeed, compete, top my personal best. Ach. In reality, i think I'd be happier chilling. I've become that girl who can't sit still, who can't watch a movie because my  mind won't shut off, who wakes up before most of the world to sit on a bike and spin to 80s classics. I make myself sick. I don't mean to be so self loathing, but when did everyone get so cuckoo, and how do I get off of this steroidal chain of type A madness? When did life get so bloody extreme? Is anyone else craving bon bons or is it just me?

I'm not saying the majority of pregnant women are going to want to run marathons at nine months, but now some preg chick in Wisconsin is watching stories like that, and planting seeds in her own alpha brain, and pretty soon a movement will form of pregnant chicks that run marathons and then give birth, and soon we will all be expected to do that. That's how sheep like we've all become.Sheep like in our thirst for persona best- when is just being ourselves good enough? I think everyone needs a day off, stat. Hey, marathon mom- you too. With all of this running, texting, multitasking, organic eating, we've all forgotten how to simply live. I'm sticking to that, though I can't guarantee I can follow my own advice. I've got a spin class to go to...

And that's what's up this sick of too muchTuesday in the MIA. XO

Technical difficulties. Grazie, Comcast...happy Columbus Day. XO

Hey, Friday...almost missed ya. Not sure where my head is these days, if you see it let me know, though I suspect it is on its way to Manhattan before the rest of me.

Oh, and it's not really Garfield's birthday. It's my husband's birthday tomorrow and he requested a lasagna for dinner, thus the large, cantankerous, lasagna lovin' cat reference- impossible for me not to think of Garfield when one mentions lasagna.  And since it's rare that someone should request a lasagna,I haven't a clue how to make one, but found this recipe (below) from Gourmet that looks to be lovely. And I love Garfield AND David, so I'm gonna try it out.

http://www.epicurious.com/recipes/food/views/Lasagne-Bolognese-with-Spinach-3...

For those of you too young or pop culturally agnostic  to know about Garfield, here is a character portrait:

,^"... and his hatred of exercise (or any form of work; he is known for saying breathing is exercise.) Garfield is also pessimistic, sadistic, cynical, sarcastic, sardonic and a bit obnoxious. He enjoys destroying things, mauling the mailman, tormenting Odie, kicking Odie off the table; he also makes snide comments, usually about Jon's inability to get a date (in one strip, when Jon bemoans the fact that no one will go out with him on New Year's, Garfield replies, "Don't feel bad Jon. They wouldn't go out with you even if it weren't New Year's.") Though Garfield can be very cynical, he does have a soft side for his teddy bear, Pooky, food and sleep..."  

Not too far off from either of us, really. Lasagna it is...all the love for a happy weekend- and all the love to my wonderful husband on his birthday weekend- there is simply nobody better on this here Earth, of this I am certain. And that's what's up this felinish Friday in the 305. Ain't no finer man than mine, this much is true. Happy birthday to the love of my life. XO

 

Good morning, Thursday. I have lots to do today but all I can think about is Steve Jobs, and the amazing gift he gave to all of us through his products, energy, fearlessness, and genius.

I don't think one of my Facebook friends missed the opportunity to eulogize for his passing last night. It was a huge testament to his impact on all of us. If you grew up with his products, then you were surely affected by the news. I found myself feeling the same way about the death of Michael Jackson- both men changed (pop) culture forever and it seemed like they would live forever.

I wanted to share a Mac tale from my own family, and it revolves around my 13 year old nephew, Jake. Jake has been a Mac fan for years already, he's a super fan and has saved birthday money, allowance, and anything else to buy himself an I Pad when it first came out, and now that he has just recently had his bar mitzvah, the only thing he wanted was a Macbook Pro. Now before you think this is the mark of a spoiled kid, I have to tell you that Jake is not the type to ask for much- he's not the bratty type, but he falls into the camp of "think different". He does his own thing, and perhaps that's what Steve Jobs's legacy is, and why his products speak to so many- they represent something different, something cooler, something practical yet innovative and not cookie cutter in terms of design. And to be able to instill brand loyalty in a 13 year old is no small feat. That's the power of Steve. That and I don't geek out for techy stuff in general, but when it come to Macs, it's on. I can't get enough.

I also could not help but think of our current revolt against bullying- and how kids are picked on when they're perceived as "diferent". The bullies of the world should think twice before picking on these types, because one day these different kids will most likely change the world. I remember feeling different as a young person- I always rebelled against the mainstream, wore clothes that nobody else wore, and talked about things people my age did not talk about. (Trust me, I'm not in any way comparing myself to Steve Jobs, but bare with me). As a kid, that can feel totally alienating and scary, almost shameful that you're not the cheerleader or the football player or the prom queen or king. But as you get older and find your place and realize that maybe this ability to think different can lead to big ideas, to a relentless inability to not settle for anything less than what you believe in, and to engage with people that are way more interesting than that former prom king or queen could ever be, you learn to love being different. And then maybe you get paid for it.

I have often gotten in trouble for voicing my views and my inability to play in the sandbox with people that are mediocre or care not to make great things has caused me some stress in my career. I don't suffer the settle well. At all. And I've always strived to work with people and on my projects with people that share my respect for thinking different and relentlessly pursuing the best way.

As we prepare to move to New York, the old fears creep in a bit of how we will make ends meet, what we will sacrifice to live there, and how we will cope with the madness all over again. But to me, New York represents a place where people don't settle- sure they settle on apartments that are too small for their lives, but it's all in the interest of a higher power- working with the best people, and embracing those that are different, because being different in New York is, well, normal. It's a place where the mad ones are free to be mad, and not being mad is just boring.

Steve Jobs was fearless, a quality that is not part of my Jewish DNA but I am working hard to get there. The fear of the unknown is a real fear, but how can we really be afraid of it when we don't even know what is coming? No point in that, really. And it's probably true that I will not change the world like SJ did, but I can change myself, and I hope to channel some of his incredible will as I embark on the next phase of my life. And is it any coincidence that Macs (Apples) and New York (the Big Apple) are two of my favorite things? Is there a tattoo in my future? And who among us in advertising did not want to be in it because of all of those amazing campaigns?

I leave you with this, especially for my young friends who are at the beginning of my career or maybe some older friends who are looking for some fuel because they're a bit beat down- never settle. Never be afraid to think different. Never work with people or on projects you don't believe in. Try and find the love in what you do, and if it's not there, run. Go forth and be mad. I will so miss Steve Jobs and his ability to change the world with every new launch and iconic commercial. He inspired millions, and allowed us to create in new ways. I pray that tomorrow's Steve Jobs types can persevere the stress of feeling different at a young age and realize their unique abilities to make the world a much better, and cooler place.

Cause that's what's up this remembering Steve  kind of Thursday in the MIA. Thank you, Steve. You definitely impacted my life, and the lives of countless others. XO

 

 

 

 

 

And 'bout it...no time for you today, sweet blog...the apartment search has begun and it's a bit messy but sure a happy home will prevail for me, David, and sweet Khan 'o mine...more soon I promise...for now I must hit the pavement, and hit the ground running and simply HIT IT..thus the photo. Cause that's what's up on this preparing to run in high heels through the streets to find my new home kind of Wednesday (shit it's Wednesday already???) in the MIA, soon to be in the NYCCCCCC. XOXO

 

Hi, Tuesday. It's a new day and one day closer to our return to New York City. We're both freaking a bit, a mix of giddy anticipation and jangly nerves about where we are going to put all of our crap. Downsizing seems to be the word of the day...and not a word I am big on. That and moist. Yuck.

And as my very inaugural efforts at apartment searches have begun, I've noticed an intriguing little thing- Manhattan is cheaper than Brooklyn, or so it seems. It's very hard to believe, but seems true. I am flirting with the idea of the Upper East Side, admittedly not very flirtworthy (possibly the most unsexy piece of real estate in all of Manhattan, barring the Upper WEST Side. Yea, I said it).

But I toy with the idea of being a freelancer, working from home and hopefully writing loads of content, and the Upper East Side feels ok for such pursuits. And it indulges my wasp envy, which you all know I have in spades. True, I would be happiest downtown, but let's see where life lands us.

It's hard to believe we're even looking into this, and when I look around my enormous digs in Miami, with water views and gapingly large closets, I do shudder a bit. But I'll get over it to live in a city that brings me more joy than any water view ever could. It's time. Get ready, people. Mama's coming home. Soon.

Cause that's what's up this seeking a 2/2 or maybe a 1/1 in the NYC but still in the MIA kind of Tuesday. All the love, mes amies. All the love. If you find me an apartment to our liking, I will surely love you even more. Regardless of where we hang our heads, I can't wait to wake up in New York. After all, home has nothing to do with an apartment. Home is where New York is. And that's that.  XO

PS here is a pic of Carrie Bradshaw's closet. I could easily live in there. Couldn't you really?

Monday Monday all the love...all the love...

And now without further ado, big newsl:

WE ARE MOVING BACK TO NEW YORK. I REPEAT: WE ARE MOVING BACK TO NEW YORK.

WANNA HEAR IT AGAIN? WE ARE MOVING BACK TO M'FIN NEW YORK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

More later. I am besides myself with joy. See you all in November, where we will admittedly drink too many toasts to celebrate. Meet you at the Minetta Tavern, Novemberish. Yup, November. Must pack...I have waited so many years to say that, and damn, it feels spectacular. I love you, New York. I'm 'comin home. I do believe I've had enough. Yesssssssss. Finally.

 

XOXOXOXO

 

More updates to follow...

Yea, I know. Two posts in one day...but I had to. And now even though I am still adrift on a lazy sea of root vegetables and turkey from last night, I can't help but feel revived after looking at photos from the Ann Demeulemeester (I spelled that without even looking, you know) show. OH. MY. GAH.

Now these are not clothes that are super uplifting, I'll give you that. But their mournful beauty and poetry and sexy moodiness are my conceit today, and I'll take it. Meaning I'll take each and every one of these looks, sans the sheer bottoms of course. But wow. Unbelievably ethereal and absinthe soaked and swashbucklish/romantic. I adore these pieces...simply fabulous. Hard to believe they are for a season called "Spring", but whatever. Good clothes are good clothes, and these my darlings, are good bloody clothes. I mean, amazing, wonderful, hidng in my own beauty clothes. Divine. And that's all I've got for this second post of this rather tepid afternoon, as a plumber snakes my kitchen sink and I count how much it's going to cost us in my head. Yikes. I'd rather think of Ann and her outlaw orphan meets 18th century  ingenue collection...XO

Hi, Friday...lovely evening last night with loads of delicious Jewish food- it's funny how I am pretty much toast around good Jewish food- I so rarely get to eat it so I am weak against the starchy loveliness of it all. Yum. I made a standout recipe as well which was amazing- think parsley, pomegranate seeds, walnuts, apples, honey- lovely.

Maybe I'm having a food hangover, but I'm a bit blah and boredish today. That's why I'm posting this pic of one of my many muses, Daphne Guiness, here at Fashion Week a Paris (naturally). I assure you Daphne never is blah or boredish, and for this reason I summon her unique brand of elegant wackiness and over the top restraint to challenge my mood, which seems impervious to most things today- no midday shopping on Gilt is going to help.I need to channel my inner Guinness. 

Save me, Daphne. Save us all.

And that, my friends, is what's up this fekaktah Friday n the MIA. Enjoy the weekend. XO