the world according to sherimaven

I hearted them so much, in fact, that I am too hungover to post. Fun party
last night- Digital Underground appearance, awesome costumes, and a shit ton
of Grey Goose. I desperately need a Tab. Back to it next week with a
vengeance...

XO

Hi, Thursday. Enough of the 80s talk- though I could easily keep going for
hours about 80s magazines, bands, fashion, literary icons, art, etc. But
I'll stop to talk about Donna Karan's resort collection, which feels oh so
70s by the way- as the air sustains a chill, many of us are thinking about
tropical breezes and sunshine.

Now I'm not sure I would wear any of these clothes for said breezes and
sunshine, but wow these are gorgeous. I have been in the mood for pants of
late- I am the requisite dress girl but my vibe is changing and these looks
inspired me to switch it up. Donna's clothes say power dressing, but with
the soul and wisdom of a boddhisatva. I just adore these looks- slouchy,
sexy, timeless, easy, confident. And I am so having the 70s moment for
resort and for Spring 2011- mix Lisa Taylor with Jerry Hall cross pollinated
with Bianca and YSL and voila- you're on the VIP list of Studio 54 circa
nowsville. Simply put, the 70s were my favorite fashion era- bring on the
glamour. These clothes speak to that era to me- Donna remains an icon for me
as someone who really does understand what women want out of clothes.
Amazing and American and not the least bit unwearable. Now to work on that
vacation planning...

Cause that's what's up this rum punch of a Thursday. More on fashion
tomorrow...cause I have lots to say. XO

Hi, Wednesday...chilly chilly but sunny sunny so all is not lost.

I have to dash quickly so here goes: there was no 80s without Duran Duran.
Full stop. I was head over heels in love with them, to put it mildly. I
adored their style, their raw sexuality/androgyny which I did not fully
understand, and their music and videos were way ahead of their time. Their
videos were so cool, so high concept, and introduced me to Sri Lanka for the
first time, a place that still holds mystique and appeal to the modern
version of moi. They were sooooo styley. Love.

Just look at these boys. How crazy cool were they? Poppy as fuck? Yes.
Awesome as hell? Most definitely. I light my torch and wave it to them
today. Loving me some Duran Duran- brings me back, people. They were about
as mainstream as I got (maybe early Wham too when they were Wham UK) but I
would have taken a bullet for John or Simon back in those days (probably not
Roger or Andy, though. On the fence about Nick...)

Now I must jet. Put on Some Duran Duran today (aptly named after a character
in Barbarella, which makes them even cooler). You know you love them. I'm
outing you and giving you permission.

Cause that's what's up this new moon on Wednesday in the MIA. XO

Hi, Tuesday. It's chilly in Miami and one may think the world is ending from
the way people are freaking out about it. Funny to a Northeasterner, but
whatever. Different strokes...it is nippy though, I'm not gonna lie.

As this chilly week approaches the midline, thoughts of themed holiday
parties run amok in my brain. As avid readers of this blog, you know I am
fussy when it comes to costumes. Fussy as in I don't like them. One bit. But
I do look a wink and a nod to the theme- and as this theme is the 80s, and
since I am fully versed in that era of shoulder pads and hairspray, how can
I not embrace it ever so slightly?

If you work with me, perhaps you need a little inspiration as you've
exhausted your possibilities. I myself am too mired in obscure references
that would not read (Tama Janowitz, Nan Kempner, Diane Brill) to try and
figure out what to do. But I found this wonderful canon of 1980s New York
Magazine fashion stories edited by none other than a young Anna Wintour, pre
American Vogue. What's striking about these images are the oddball
silhouettes of that era- what a difference a few decades make. I've attached
a few of my favorite images- black and white figured very heavily in this
era, which is perfect for me- especially the black part. A particular
favorite is the lady with the opera glasses in the geometric long tunicy
thing with the matching legging. I would have sold all of my New Order
records and then some for that look. The full link is below from
Fashionologie, but these are a few favorites of that rather weird time in
fashion, though awesome nonetheless. Perhaps I will take a page...

Cause that's what's up this referential Tuesday in the MIA. Enjoy the stroll
through that Gen Xified decade of debauchery. Link below, folks. XO

http://www.fashionologie.com/Selection-Anna-Wintours-New-York-Magazine-Spread...,0,9#12

Hi, Monday. Listening to Stevie Wonder as I try to get to it this week.
Stevie always helps the task at hand. This weekend found me relaxing with
puppy and husband- Saturday night we watched the amazing and fascinating
documentary on Joan Rivers aptly entitled "Joan Rivers: A Piece of Work".
And boy is she...

Now I know it sounds very weird to talk about Joan Rivers as inspiring. I
must admit I've found her appearances as awards show pundit in recent years
to be teeth grindingly grating. And she no longer looks human, which is
scary in its own rite. But this documentary tracing her career shows a woman
with bigger balls than an elephant, with a work ethic to match. We all know
women are not often considered funny (thank you Christopher Hitchens), but
dear Joan paved the way for women to not only be funny, but to be bawdy,
outrageous, and shockingly blue. It's not enough to say she has a potty
mouth- it's pretty much the entire men's room at Port Authority in there.

And there really is nothing better than a wisecracking New York Jewish
woman like Joan to take a piss out of convention- marriage, children,
celebrities- you name it. She's skewered it. I so enjoyed the film- yes her
face is insane, but this is a woman who really is a comedic genius, with
file drawers full of jokes to prove it (oh and watch her handle a heckler
too. Top shelf).

What I love most about her story is that she simply could not have been
anything else- she always knew that being a comedian (a performer actually
as she really wanted to be an actor) was in fact not a choice- it was
something she had to do, really the only thing she could do and not go
completely mad. It's a painful journey in life when you know you only really
have one path- but what a relief to know that no matter what you do along
the way, the choice has already been made for you, and there is nothing you
can do about it but "do it". I think that's the key to success for most
artistic types, hell people in general. Treat your career as something you
were meant to do- and if it doesn't stick, get the fuck out. Plain and
simple. Accept no substitutes for who you are and what you live for and
believe in. Because there aren't any of the aforementioned substitutes if
you are following your destiny (wow that got a good deal deeper than I
wanted to on a Monday)...

In any event, see this film, even if you think Joan is super irritating. You
will see a woman who lives to work and diffuses some of life's greatest
tragedies and pitfalls with an uncanny sense of humor. I can relate to this
because I think this is the Jewish way to cope. I've been having some stuff
dragging me down of late, and I was chatting with a dear friend about it. I
could tell it was a tough conversation, so I decided to derail from the woe
is me and go with making fun of someone we both know, which paid off in
spades. I think she was grateful for the change in mood, and so was I. Jews
have always been great comedians- I guess because traditionally we have
suffered quite a bit- and if we didn't laugh, we would cry- so why not make
fun of the situation instead of cower in the face of it? I guess that's why
so many of the great comedians are Jews, and Joan is no exception (athletes
though? Not so much).

As I watched Joan's career unfold this past weekend over a bottle of white
and some Chinese food, I felt awestruck by her tenacity, and above all, her
unapologetic moxie. I hope she continues to offend people for many more
years to come. If you want to watch a documentary about someone who refuses
to be anything but herself, watch this one. I'm glad I got to see it.
Because we should treat every day as an unflappable extension of who we are.
And except nothing less, my friends. Because really, who else do you have
but YOU? Oh and don't forget to laugh. There is humor all around us if we
care to see it.

Cause that's what's up this laugh at life, gotta be me Monday in the MIA.
Hope you are being you today, wherever you happen to be, doing Lord knows
what. XO

Hiya, Friday. I am happy to see you, mi amore.

I was reading about Pantone's color pick for next year- honeysuckle. I always
pictured honeysuckle being yellowy, but it's actually a lovely pinky/red- I
think it's a great color for hope, renewal, confidence, joy, and most of
all, lipstick. But I digress. Because my favorite color on all the earth is

green. I have always been obsessed with it- since childhood. Every toothbrush I have ever owned has been green. I love mint chocolate chip ice cream, as long as it has green food coloring a la Baskin Robbins. I l am ga ga over Scotland and its green moors a la Wuthering Heights. I worship Jamaica for its forests of green. I can't get enough, really. Give me green, and lots of it. Have you ever heard that early

That's why when I was thinking about my take on honeysuckle this am,, I stopped in my
tracks while getting coffee at our local bookstore. The cover of
Town and Country had me mesmerized. Just look at Lake Bell in this amazing
Oscar De La Renta. The color of that gorgeous dress has me smitten beyond. I
adore this dress and this hue of green makes me giddy. There is simply no
other color that makes me feel so happy- it's lush, fertile, and alive. So
beautiful. Honeysuckle is nice too but give me green any day. (Just not for
lipstick...but for anything else, yes yes, oh yes).

Cause that's what's up this green eyed Friday in the MIA. Have a great
weekend. XO

 

Here is the link to the Pantone site:

http://www.pantone.com/pages/pantone/Pantone.aspx?pg=20821&ca=4&utm_s...

 

(MAVEN NOTE: THIS POST WAS UPDATED...ORIGINALLY I SAID HYACINTH BUT IT,S HONEYSUCKLE. DERRR.)

Hi, Thursday. Miami is cold and rainy- very strange combo in these parts.
Super gloomsville.

You know what else has me reaching for the Paxil? The fact that not only is
Mars Bar closing down, but now I hear Max Fish too ? What? How is this even
possible? Both of these joints are Manhattan landmarks. I know yesterday I
was all agog with glamour, but today I'm here to profess my undying love for
a good, shitty bar. A dive, if you will (I know I would). Growing up in
Philly and attending college there, I can't imagine going through those days
without McGlinchey's and Dirty Frank's, two complete shithouses but cheap,
rowdy, and ten tons of fun. Philly has some of the best dive bars of any
city I've ever seen, and I have always had a fondness for having a drink in
a place that is set up for doing just that- drinking- not canoodling, not
star gazing, and not player hating. Just. Plain. Drinking. Oh, and maybe
feeding the jukebox with quarters, since it's usually stellar at places like
this.

Bars like these can't be replaced or retooled. There are no drinks with egg
whites in these establishments. There is no pouty, wafer thin mixologist on
staff. And there most certainly is no velvet rope or talk of summers in
Southhampton. No, friends. These bars are about rock and fucking roll. And
getting surly drunk. These are the bars one goes to for a perfectly poured
Jack and Coke, maybe a shot of tequila, and most definitely, a beer, and
possibly all three. Put it this way- I don't really remember my nights at
the Mars bar (better that way) but there have been more than a few. I do
remember that the bathroom is perfectly fetid and the crowd is shady beyond
belief, thus adding to its appeal. Every time I'm in the city and cruise
down First Avenue in a cab, I always do a kind of mental wink at the Mars
Bar, acknowledging it's decrepit and dingy glory.Pour one out for this spot,
people. What a drag.

Which brings me to Max Fish. Max Fish was always very Lower East Side- rock
and roll, a bit druggy/smoky/ hazy, and an awesome late night spot when you
are tired of all the bullshit. Max Fish is high on my list of favs when it
comes to New York bars. Seeing it go will break my heart. Does anyone
remember Siberia? That was another classic lair, underneath the subway in
midtown, as well as the subterranean bar at Three of Cups that always seems
to crank Motorhead, Sabbath, or greasy Stones albums like Black and Blue.
J'adore. St. Jerome's is another great one in the city, also down steps,
also super duper rock and roll (if I'm not mistaken, Gaga's long time love
is a bartender there).

The shuttering of these two kick ass bars gives me pause- what on Earth is
happening in Manhattan that warrants the closing of these two spots? I hate
when legends die, especially the ones that lend to the city's long forgotten
seedy past. You can't replace places like this, kiddies.

There's talk of Max Fish opening elsewhere, but the original was "the" one.
So now what? (I feel like I need a drink right now with all of this bad
news). What a shame. Where will the next Bukowski get his swerve on for
crying out loud? We'll never know. Please don't take my dive bar away...

Cause that's what's up this thirsty Thursday in the MIA. Sigh. XO

Hi, sexy Wednesday. It's a chilly day here in the MIA but the sun is shining
vibrantly and I'm feeling happy. I'm joyous because I've decided that once a
week I am going to try and take a scenario that is less than glam and add
some much needed fabulousness to it. One of said situs is most definitely
camping. Yes, camping.

I admit, I am not much of a camper. In my hippie high school days, I could
get down with it, actually really enjoyed it (yes me. I know...). But ever
since moving to New York and then Miami and embracing a more urban way of
life, I completely lost interest in outdoor pursuits, unless it involves
beach time. I have often said nature is overrated- more to piss people off
who aspire to some Walden ideal, but honestly, I get a bit bored in the
wilds, and positively spooked by the silence and creatures rustling about.
It's just not my thing, camping. Don't get me started on the bugs.

But I'll tell you what COULD become my thing- glamping. Glamping is camping
but with a healthy dose of glamour, natch. It's still very unfussy and
respectful of the woods/beach/desert or wherever you lay your tented head.
But here's the deal- picture a chic teepee, some vintage batik or Indian
frocks hanging in some nearby trees swaying gently, a grilled lobster
dinner, a perfect rose, crisply chilled. This is surely the way to go. It
may also involve a fur hat, Gram Parsons on an endless loop, and some
wellies or boots that lace. Or barefoot is also divine, so as to feel the
grass underfoot- very grounding, that. It's all very gypset and it feels and
looks like something I want to be a part of. Like right this very second,
for instance.

I've attached some photos for your reference- some from the Gypset book,
some vintage Gram Parson and other pastoral rock shots, as well as some
randoms I've snatched from my arsenal of reference materials on all things
chic. My dear husband has wanted me to camp with him in Big Sur for a
million years now- I have always scoffed at it, but if I could glamp it, I
may suffer it well. As long as there are lovely grilled things to eat,
endless light wine, and a tent filled with pillows, cushions, and poufs of
the Moroccan variety, I think I could get down, as well as a wardrobe that
is rich hippie inspired and full of flowy goodness. So if you, like me, are
not the Appalachian campground type, this glamping thing may tickle your
aesthetic as well. Because if I have to embrace the outdoors and abandon my
urban ideals, then I'm going to do it in the height of hippie haute. And
that's that.

Cause that's what's up this chicly wooded Wednesday in the MIA. All the
love. Let's get outdoors, shall we? XO

Hi, Tuesday. It's cold here in the 305 but my heart is warm, because Johnny
Depp is on the cover of Jaunuary's Vanity Fair. Deserves all caps I would
say. Love love the Depp. And interviewed by Patti Smith and shot by Annie
L.? SHUT UP. (Oh and for those who remember young, 21 Jump Street JD, go to VF's website
and check out the photo retrospective. Amazing).

Cause that's what's up on this Depp is the only man who can wear eyeliner
and look super hot Tuesday in the MIA. Bundle up with the January issue-
it's a must in these cold times. XO

Hiya, Monday. I hope you all had a lovely weekend. It's chilly in Miami and
I'm loving it...feels great and holiday like and snuggly.

So I saw lots of art this weekend- the big show had a shit ton of Robert
Indiana LOVE sculptures, I was digging the one that lit up. I must say I
missed Deitch's presence- I know he was in town but I really missed his
gallery's awesome schtick. Though I am an art world outsider (but voyeur
nonetheless), I still feel like his gallery's closing has left a bit of a
black hole in the art scene. I know he is movin' and shakin' in LA, but
still...

I absolutely adored the Sanrio pop up shop in Wynwood. It was really well
done, with different artists interpreting Ms. Kitty and friends- a lot of
fun for kids and adults alike. Positively adorable and well done and a full
on "pop" explosion. Also lovely for kids and adults was Friends with You's
outdoor installation, complete with bounce house. I liked that it was in a
park, and I loved that Miami has stepped up its game and finally caught onto
the food truck craze- loved the grilled cheese truck almost as much as the
art.

Scope was cool, Nada was a bit meh, though the Deauville is a fun setting
for a show, and Pulse was my favorite of all. I discovered a fabulous
painter called Andreas Leikauf, who won my heart, but alas not my wallet
(love this Perfect Day piece, which was shown at the fair and almost made me
pass out). We also fell in love with the work of Florian Heinke (self
portrait with skull pictured here), another fabulous painter who juxtaposes
text and banal subjects of pop fame (Bukowski and such) and made me swoon. I
want one of his works in an enormous way. He's fabulous.

And speaking of fabulous, my dear friend Marisa from Like the Spice (who
will from this point on be called the vixen temptress) had an awesome show
up at Scope. We were admiring Jason Bryant's fabulous new piece of Bogie and
Bacall, but the work of LA based Treasure Frey had us panting. And the vixen
temptress, like magic, had us packing it into the Honda Fit in no time flat,
dog in tow. Truthfully, we slept on it for a couple of nights, but realized
it was the perfect piece for our apartment. And boy is it...the piece is
very similar to the collage piece pictured here- it's a beautiful work on
tea stained paper, with bits of paper making these cool shard like patterns.
I adore it.Oh, and here is Khan at Scope, chillin' with his pops. How cool
is he? Such an art doggie.

All in all, the shows were nice and the weather was perfect, but I found the
prices overall to be insane, and I also noticed a lack of photography at all
of the shows- not sure why that is, but photography was so the thing for a
couple of years- maybe it's swinging back to works on paper again? Ah, the
fickle art world (though I think it was Pulse that had some lovely photos of
Ms. Kate Moss in all her glory...)

Was wonderful to have all the mad ones back in the city for a couple of
days- I look forward to next year- I'm taking reservations for Casa
Rosenberg now if you would like to come check out all the fun. I hope to
post my photos soon, on some sort of Flickr gallery. So it's back to normal
life now, but we'll always have Basel, right?

Cause that's what's up this beautiful collage of a Monday in the MIA. XO