the world according to sherimaven

Hi, again. Yes, that's Lee Radziwill.

In case you were wondering who got invited to Truman's notorious Ball of
1966, here's the guest list. Does it get any better? Any list that begins
with Mr. and Mrs. Gianni Agnelli is almost too much to bear...so without
further adieu, check it (I love that this party was more mask than full on
costume. That I could handle):

Mr and Mrs Gianni Agnelli, Count Umberto Agnelli, Edward Albee, Mrs W
Vincent Astor, Mr and Mrs Richard Avedon, James Baldwin, Miss Tallulah
Bankhead, Cecil Beaton, Mr and Mrs Harry Belafonte, Marisa Berenson, Candice
Bergen, Mr and Mrs Irving Berlin, Sir Isaiah and Lady Berlin, Mr and Mrs
Leonard Bernstein, Mr and Mrs Benjamin Bradlee, Mr and Mrs William Buckley,
Mr and Mrs Richard Burton, Prince Carlo Caracciolo, Lord Chalfont, Dr and
Mrs John Converse, Noël Coward, Mr and Mrs Walter Cronkite, Mr and Mrs Sammy
Davis Jr, Oscar de la Renta, Marlene Dietrich, Elliott Erwitt, Douglas
Fairbanks Jr, Mrs Marshall Field, Mr and Mrs Henry Fonda, Joan Fontaine, Mr
and Mrs Henry Ford 2nd, Mr and Mrs John Kenneth Galbraith, Greta Garbo,
Ambassador and Mrs Arthur J Goldberg, Mr and Mrs Samuel Goldwyn, Henry
Golightly, Hamish Hamilton, Ambassador and Mrs W Averell Harriman, Mr and
Mrs William Randolph Hearst Jr, Mr and Mrs Henry J Heinz 2nd, Miss Lillian
Hellman, Elizabeth Hilton, Horst P Horst, Christopher Isherwood, Maharajah
and Maharani of Jaipur, Senator and Mrs Jacob K Javits, Lynda Bird Johnson,
Philip Johnson, Senator and Mrs Edward M Kennedy, Mrs John F Kennedy, Mrs
Joseph P Kennedy, Senator and Mrs Robert F Kennedy, Alfred Knopf, Mr and Mrs
Joseph Kraft, Mrs Patricia Lawford, Mr and Mrs Irving Lazar, Harper Lee,
Vivien Leigh, Mr and Mrs Jack Lemmon, Mr and Mrs Alan Jay Lerner, Mr and Mrs
Alexander Lieberman, Mr and Mrs Robert Lowell, Mr and Mrs Henry Luce,
Shirley MacLaine, Mr and Mrs Norman Mailer, Mr and Mrs Joseph Mankiewicz, Mr
and Mrs Walter Matthau, Mr and Mrs Robert McNamara, Mr and Mrs Paul Mellon,
Mr and Mrs James Michener, Mr and Mrs Arthur Miller, Mr and Mrs Vincent
Minnelli, Mr and Mrs Samuel I Newhouse Sr, Mrs Stavros Niarchos, Mike
Nichols, Lord and Lady David Ogilvy, Mr and Mrs Gregory Peck, George
Plimpton, Prince and Princess Stanislas Radziwill, Mr and Mrs Jason Robards
Jr, Governor and Mrs Nelson A Rockefeller, Philip Roth, Baroness Cecile de
Rothschild, Baron and Baroness Guy de Rothschild, Theodore Rousseau, Mr and
Mrs Arthur Schlesinger Jr, Mrs David O Selznick, Mr and Mrs Irwin Shaw, Mr
and Mrs Frank Sinatra, Steve Sondheim, Sam Spiegel, Mr and Mrs John
Steinbeck, Gloria Steinem, Mr and Mrs William Styron, Mr and Mrs Arthur Ochs
Sulzberger, Ambassador and Mrs Llewellyn E Thompson, Penelope Tree, Mr and
Mrs Alfred Gwynne Vanderbilt, Mrs T Reed Vreeland, William Walton, Mr and
Mrs Edward Warburg, Andy Warhol, Mr and Mrs Robert Penn Warren, Mr and Mrs
John Hay Whitney, Mr and Mrs Billy Wilder, Tenessee Williams, Mr and Mrs
Edmund Wilson, Duke and Duchess of Windsor, Darryl Zanuck

I want to recreate this party. Who wants to come as the Duchess of Windsor?
I'll be Capote, natch. XO

Ooh, Friday. In the nick, I tell you. In the nick...

So it's Halloween this weekend and I hope you have a fabulous day/night.
Unlike many of you, I don't really do Halloween, surprising as that may
seem. I'm just not a costume girl, never have been. I find it somehow
embarrassing and I'm not in the least bit innovative when it comes to
masquerade. I actually suck at it. It's so not for me. I don't know how to
prance around as anyone or anything else, and I don't like the attention a
costume demands. Plus, I just feel super duper ridiculous.

I can recall as a child all of my friends fiendishly crafting and creating,
intrepid tongue over top lip, cutting, pasting, and sewing all sorts of
costume fun. I did the opposite. On the day of Halloween, I would usually go
into the basement cedar closet and pull out a boa, a necklace, a fur muff, a
vintage sailor dress. You see my grandmother owned a clothing store years
ago and when she closed it, we had many spoils and leftover pieces. I
particularly was obsessed with a pair of rhinestone heels, but they were
always too big for me. After festooning myself with said boa or muff, I
would put a dot on my chin and some red lipstick and off I went, without a
hint of cardboard of plastic. I was never that girl and I'm still not. I
think if I bottom line this in my mind goes a little something like this- I
just wanted the candy. Full stop. And I wasn't going to pretend to be
someone else to get it. Yea, I'd put on a little something, but I wasn't
about to overthink things. Just. Give. Me. The. Candy. In a bigger,
metaphoric sense, not much has changed, kids. I still want all the candy and
am not willing to pretend to be anyone else to get it. Yes, I'll play along,
but it will be on my terms. Just give me the candy and we'll be straight.
I'm no good at pretending.(Don't get me started on this slutty costume
trend. I can't bear it or stomach another sleazy nurse, smurf, cop).

I work in an office that has themed holiday parties, and I always admire how
everyone goes for it costume wise, but I never do. I will do a wink to the
theme, but I never go all out. If the theme is red, I may rock a red shoe.
If it's circus, I'll wear a polka dot dress. You get the idea, bien sur.
This year is the '80s, and I will surely do something in the style of, but
probably won't be hunting for a Limahl suit any time soon. It's simply not
in the cards.

I guess I'm a Halloween agnostic. Or maybe I just never know who to be, yet
another theme in this thing called life. I do miss the Halloween Parade
that began outside my door on Sixth Avenue in Manhattan, but damned if I
ever marched the thing in full costume. (Devil ears from Ricky's with the
aforementioned red lipstick was a stretch for me). I will most likely be
admiring all of you pretty people in your costumes here in the MIA, but I'll
just be me, thank you very much. That's all I really know and I'm sticking
to it. Me and Candy Bergen, pictured here at Capote's infamous Masked Ball.
Mask decidedly off. And hair, fabulous.

And that's what's up this tricky, treaty Friday in the MIA. XOXO

Happy Wednesday. My short commute was tinged with hints of monsoon. Wow.
When it rains it Miami, it really rains.

So my curiosity was more than piqued the other day when I read Dominique
Browning's piece in the New York Times about her refusal to cut her hair,
even though she is deep in the throes of "middle age". In certain circles of
yesteryear, it was a major non non to have long hair if you are past 40, and
back in the day, I would say 30 would have been the cutoff for long and
lustrous locks. There are certain fashion tenets on such things- lighten
your hair as you get older, cut your hair, don't wear bright lipstick. I
have heard all these things and they are etched in my brain (thanks mom)- I
had filed them away for future reference, and now I may just blow off the
dust as I begin to think about such things.

But the truth is- I haven't had long hair since I'm about 21. I adore
cutting my hair- it's been Mia Farrow short, Louise Brooks bobbed, Oasis
brothers shagged, and just about everything in between. The common thread
is rarely has my hair grazed my collarbone for more than a minute in all
these years. I prefer my hair cropped and that's that. So this issue doesn't
really concern me. I do applaud Ms. Browning for bringing it up though- she
was on the Today show today with Sally Hershberger (what in the world did
Sally do to her face, she can't even move it) talking about it all. When I
first read the article, I knew it was a press goldmine. Still, it's hard to
believe that as women this is big news- I guess what I'm trying to say is
wear your hair how you want- nobody looks 30, 40, 50 or 60 anymore. All the
rules have been broken. I will say if you keep your hair long and free of
color you run the risk of looking like an art teacher from Taos but that's on
you. Maybe that's your thing. So own it.

I am pretty sure women in other countries don't give any of these "rules" a
second thought- I'm thinking of Sonia Braga here specifically whose hair was
always long and spidery despite her age. She's Spanish. Enough said. This
whole article made me think of a friend of my mother's, whose name is Ann.
Ann was crazy cool and stylish in a chunky jewelry and Zoran basics kind of
way. And her way was silver and curly and completely kooky. And fabulous.
That was her look and it worked for her in spades.

So Ms. Browning, I think it's an interesting, societal quirk you bring up-
but really- can we stop talking about rules for women and simply just break
them? Do what works for you and makes you feel beautiful. The more clout we
give these commandments, the more they will remain taboo. (This applies for
men too PS, though I must admit very, very few dudes are great with long
hair. I have always been more of a short haired man fan myself).

So do your thing long hairs, short hairs, and everything in between. Just
please tell Sally Hershberger to stop filling in her face with Lord knows
what. There should really be a rule against that...

And that's what's up this wildly hairy Wednesday in the MIA. XO

Hi, again. I'm mad for this sketch from the Sprouse Family Archives, circa
1984. As I ponder an outfit for an 80s party, a design by Mr. Sprouse would
be tops on my list. He was so beyond. XO

Hi, Wednesday. The coffee and am yoga are not cutting it today. I have a
dentist appointment and a long day ahead of me and I'm just not feelin' it.
As I was looking around this morning online to try and find my spark, I came
across this fun clothing company based in Bev Hills- think witty, fun tee
shirts and rockery leather vests. They're called Le Petit Petit and not only
do I like their cute take on things, I dig their manifesto, so I'm sharing
it here. I sense kindred spirits...and I agree with all of the above. Paris,
Malibu, Ice cream. Yes and Yes. (I think I need some LA soon PS. I miss it).

Lots of love today. I'm simply going to soldier through, cause that's how I
roll, and that's what's up this hopeful Wednesday in the MIA. XO

Check out this cute line too if you need a boost:

http://www.lepetitpetit.com/

Good morning little Tuesday. How it be?

While reading Sunday Styles this weekend, I came down with a rather wicked
case of cold envy. I glimpsed at cape after cape and felt so deflated (thank
you Bill Cunningham). I have told you this before, but my constitution is
not one for hot weather, and my innards and outards crave a chill in the
air. When I was in Manhattan last week, I got a taste of it, and man did it
feel good. It's still 87 every day here and I am so tired of the heat. I am in love
with all the caped looks this season and in a quick shop by in H&M last
week, I spied many spiffy coats and capes for under $100 (I would so hit
that). True they are probably not the best for the height of winter, but
very cute for now and through most of Autumn as the days get shorter and
you're sippin' on pumpkin spice. Was I the only one who LOVED those few
weeks of chill in Miami last winter? And though I love bare legs and a
pretty pedicure, I'm down to rotate the wardrobe from time to time. Perhaps
I'm in the rare camp that would choose seasonal dressing over 80 degree days
in December. Sue me. I simply feel like I live in a pizza oven. Dressing for
such conditions can be a bit of a yawn. Somehow autumn/winter dressing
brings to mind a more intellectual approach to fashion, which is what I'm after.

So enjoy your coats, capes, and jackets, peeps. Don't even get me started on
boots or tights...if I wore a cape or tights in Miami I would melt, plain
and simple. But a gal can dream, right? Come on Miami- just drop a few
degrees and we can be friends again. Your steadfast steaminess is lulling me
into a sort of fashion torpidity. Can I at least rock a boot? Please?

Cause that's what's up this overbalmed and excessively envious Tuesday in
the MIA- at least my skin looks nice with all this humidity. XO

Happy Monday. Let me get right to it.

Most of you know I am insanely nuts about Keith Richards- I
love his style, love his hair, love his epic and legendary wasted elegance .
And I'm thrilled he's written a book on his glimmered existence called
"Life" and he's all the heck over the news because of it. He looks happy and
healthy and humble. I can't wait to read it- lovely hubby reserved me a copy
on Amazon and I am going to devour it when it arrives tomorrow.

I have always loved old photos of Keith- the style is beyond and he has
always been one of my muses. This shot was taken by Dominique Tarle, he of
Stones documentarian fame- he spent time with them during the "Exile" days.
There was a show of his in the Marais when I was there, I happened upon the
gallery on an afternoon walk. And there was this photo- enormous and
fabulous- it took my breath away. I am obsessed with it and thought it would
be the PERFECT photo to hang over my desk in my office, to greet visitors
with a beatific style, but still be very very rock and roll. J'adore. It was
too steep for my diminished dollar but I think I need to own this photo one
day. I really do.

And here's why I posted this pic today, because this is how I think all
Mondays should be. Peaceful and ecstatic and sun drenched like my boy Keef.

True he was probably past the point, but let's imagine he's just digging the
moment, happy to be alive, and loving the Southern France sun. This shot was
taken at Nellcote, Keith's home in the South of France- I love how it
channels the times so perfectly- is he having this moment because he just
nailed "Happy" in the studio? It embodies that track so well. I dig it
beyond belief. And I can't wait to hear about Anita, Nellcote, Mick, Patti-
all of it. Every damn word. Keith is the best. I hope this Monday is every
bit as inspiring and fascinating as Keith's autobiography, and as peaceful
as this photo.I know I am a Jew, but if I could pray to a saint, it would be
Keith. Wickedly cool, debauched, and beyond all- a survivor. Viva La
Keith...it¹s all about him this literary season. I'm glad this mad one is
still very much here.

Cause that's what's up this street fightin' Monday in the MIA.I'm gonna walk
before they make me run. XO

Merde. I loved me some Slits back in the day...was fascinated and amazed by
the very rebellious Ms. Up when I was wee. The world will miss you and your
unique brand of badassery. Yet another mad one gone. XO

Happy Friday. I found this sexy pic of Streetcar era Marlon, in the height of his
hotness on Rifle Paper's awesome blog...may your weekend be as sultry and beautiful as this still.

Cause that's what's up this starry Friday in the MIA. Have fun! XO

Hiya Thursday. I'm back from New York and have a bit of a cold...plane was
crazy hot and stuffy and I had a crazy anime girl sitting next to me in a
huge orange fur coat that took up two seats. She proceeded to eat a very
large loaf cake in flight, while still ensconced in the fur. Very odd...

Thought it would be nice to talk about my other favorite topic besides big,
glam cities and fashion. It's food, people. And if you love food of the
Italian variety, you simply have to check out Mario Batali's new paean to
that type of cuisine- Eataly. What's funny about this spot is I know if I
was still a Manhattan resident I would loathe this place. It's beyond
crowded, people are pushing, you can't get an espresso without waiting an
hour. But now that I live in a place where this is nothing like this
outsized emporium of food porn, I fell in love with it. Having just been to
Paris's amazing La Grande Epicerie (right next to Bon Marche), I got that
same sense. La Grande has beautiful produce, cheese, fish, meat- you name
it. All in a gorgeous setting and artfully arranged. Eataly did not
disappoint in this regard either, and it feels very much like a grand
European food hall.

It's an enormous emporium, with a couple of restaurants and gorgeous,
gorgeous products, merchandised to perfection. I wanted to bathe in the
cheese, surround myself with a shelf full of gorgeous Italian candy
packaging, and bury myself in a mountain of homemade pasta. I also loved
checking out their produce- the baby brussels sprouts were my favorite and I
wanted to toss them with some olive oil, lemon, fresh parmesan and some
pasta. I hear they're also doing a rooftop beer garden there, completing
its bid for the ultimate food destination in Manhattan. Dean and Deluca, be
nervous. Be very nervous.

It's a lovely experience this place. I did not get to actually eat at the
restaurants. I was too hungry to wait so ended up at Republic. Ha. If you
are in the city, def check it out. It's in the Toy Building at 200 Fifth
Avenue, between 23rd and 24th Streets. It really does encompass an Italian
ideal, a dolce vita kind of loveliness that warmed my heart. Hope you get to
check it out. And New Yorkers, don't hate on it too much. Nothing else
exists like this in the country, so feel happy to have it, even if the
crowds make you nuts. I remember having that feeling at Dean and Deluca back
in the day, so I feel your pain but still wish I could pop into this place
on a whim and sample some goodness whenever I want to.

And that's what's up this foodie Thursday in the MIA. I gotta go find some
tissues. XO