the world according to sherimaven

Good afternoon, Tuesday. I've been quiet for a few days because quite frankly, the world is so insanely messed up right now I really can't bear to process any of it. I find myself avoiding Facebook in the hopes of some respite from all the tragic stuff going on. I'm not one to ignore what's happening in the world, but sometimes one just needs a break. 

As I cruised around online looking for something to inspire me (as I do), I found this brill July 2014 Spanish Vogue Story featuring the superhot Alba Galocho and shot by Mario Serria on a fun blog called Visual Optimism. In addition to featuring some to die for looks in my rock and roll wheelhouse, I realized that I take great comfort in looking at pretty pictures. I feel fortunate to have worked with photographers for a long time now, because I really find happiness in looking at the way people interpret everything from fashion to culture to normal life. It's beautiful, and I never get bored looking at gorgeous.

Here's my favorites from that story- so gooood. And although the world around me is seemingly imploding, I remain visually optimistic, and encourage you to do the same. Although I'm well aware that fashion is not going to fix the world, it makes me happy, and I need all the help I can get right now. I so needed that. I also need that denim on denim look with the Birks but that's for another post. 

Cause that's what's up this aesthetically aspirational Tuesday in the 212. Yours, in keeping it together, and snapping away. XO

PS- also Hashtag the Panda and listening to Old Van Halen helps too somehow. 

Good afternoon, Friday. It's my last day on production and I realized that I forgot my favorite hat which makes me sad, because today is very much a hat on set kind of day. I have my fav little baseball hat with me, but I want something a bit more brimmy and incognito.

I'm very much a hat person and love wearing them- they make me feel protected and cool all at once, so I couldn't help but fixate on the most perfect of hats I've seen of late, from Tamara Mellon, she of Jimmy Choo fame. The glamour girl now has her very own namesake line (which I absolutely adore- so sexy and femme/tough), and the Fall campaign features Kowboy Karlie Kloss in all of her elegant yee haw chicness.

The collection is full of fringe and western inspired sex appeal, but my fav is the aforementioned hat, which has the most perfect of monikers- the Badass. Any hat with that name should live up to it, and from the looks of things, this hat is perfection. At just shy of 300 bucks, it darn well better be too. I'm dreaming of owning this cool cappy. It would be perfect for production and cruising around the city with shades on, so as to create my own little badass forcefield/private Idaho. I'm so all about that. I'd wear this hat absolutely everywhere and stuff it in my bag and crunch it up for those moments where you need to head for cover.

Cause that's what's up this coveting a chapeau of good character kind of Friday on this wrap day deep within the hangar in the ATL airport. Yours, in being a badass, I tip my hat to you all and hope you have a fabulous weekend. XO

Link to buy (you lucky person):

http://www.tamaramellon.com/bad-ass?___store=default

Good morning, Thursday. So today’s my birthday and as I hover over another year in the machine, I can’t help but note my surroundings and feel some sort of ephiphanistic/cathartic/metaphoric textbook moment of what another year older means in my book.

 So I’m sitting here prepping this post , at 11 pm at night as I enjoy the last hour of this year, alone. In a hotel room. By the airport. In Atlanta. It's not at all lost on me that my eco friendly Marriott room (green is the new black) looks much like what I imagine a recovery room would like like had I opted for plastic surgery in Costa Rica instead of working. There's even an extra bed for my attending nurse should she need to change my dressings in the wee small hours of the morn. Fantastic. The vague smell of apricots mixed with ass is less terrific. But after all, this hotel was not what was intended, a Plan B if you will because our swank Plan A hotel had us checking in a night later, and they did not have any rooms for our crew of 12 and change, because there is an absolutely massive global convergence of Jehovah's Witness types in town for an annual hoo ha. I've never seen so many awkward skirt lengths in my life.

Also worth noting as I round homeplate on another year, I’ve officially become that kind of New Yorker again- the kind that irritated the crap out of me when I left for a while. The kind that finds a sports bar in a convention center hotel fodder for endless jokes and ironic quips. And though this is probably the only time all year I will indulge in a stack of onion rings, my reference  that said stack resembles the seafood tower at Balthazar is nothing short of pretentious. I need to reel this because I don't want to be a sheltered New York type, who no longer can grasp how the rest of the world survives without kale salad from that little Aussie place in Chelsea Market where the guy who mixes the tahini looks like Heath Ledger. I know. Awful.

 Further, as I try to ignore the smell of ass and dried fruit while my insides fill with regret from yet another order of French fries (not a stack, mind you. But a plate), I am embracing the fact that as a producer all of these years, there is always much more to learn. I’m shooting at an airport and learning the difference between various crews, various airplanes, and various rules and regs that would make most rebellious fly by the seat types such as myself cringe, but it’s all in a day’s work. 

Having another birthday is like doing a photo shoot in an airport- you can’t account for planes not arriving when they are supposed to, or make a cloudy sky sunny or vice versa. This is not unlike life, for even the best laid plans are subject to change like whoa, and at a moment’s notice. At this point, I’ve learned it’s best to just roll with it, because freaking out over the unexpected intensities that life inevitably brings is just not worth it. That's where that Plan B comes in.

 When you work in production, if you’re worth your weight you excel at coming up with Plans B,C, and  sometimes Plan Z. I wonder why it is that in life when things don’t go as planned, we can’t take this approach. Maybe your job is not what you expected, or you find a grey hair on your eyebrow or you realize that no matter how much Pure Barre you do, your butt will never look like that girl who does full splits right next to you, because she is most likely the girlfriend of kale salad Heath Ledger. It’s cool, because there’s always a Plan B, and if you’re willing to roll with things, it’s always going to be ok. 

 I've often thought about how silly it is to say things like "this is not the life I planned".  Please find me a single human being that is living the life they planned- that's just not the way it works, and if it did, how boring would it be? Too often this year and really for my whole life, I’ve pushed and hemmed and hawed to live some notion of a life I think is right for me.  I’m not sure what this year will bring, but I do know this- there’s always a way, and a the end of the day, even if you are stuck in a chain hotel alone on your birthday, it’s cool.  It's more than cool, because it's a challenge to live a life less planned, but one worth taking. I think I’m going to proclaim this year the year of rolling with it,  even though I woke up this am to finish this post and felt less than sartorial about things because this whole week has been about rolling with it, and sometimes, it's tough to do. I felt weary and in need of some solitude, but there's too much work to do for that. I will, however, indulge my daydreams today and think of places like Paris and the new Balenciaga handbag I want and having nails that don't look like they belong to a grizzly bear on meth. Because although I'm sitting in a hangar in Atlanta, there's always time to come up with alternatives, even if today, they are simply in my mind.

On a fashion note, I am more than relieved that I have missed the era of high waisted jeans/shorts. I hate them. I don't care how good you look in them. I just can't right now, and from the looks of things, I never will. I am somehow so glad to have missed that fashion boat. Oh, and also Tinder. No to that too. Big no. I will not be swiped over! Very, very relieved that I missed that boat completely. It's not for me and feel very lucky to have my dear husband. Dating is just super awks now and I'm not sure I could bear it. But I digress and will end this post because there's work to do and plans B,C. and Z to think of.

Good morning, Tuesday. I'm here in the Detroit airport on a shoot- as far as airports go, this is one of the nicest around. But looking around at the huddling masses yearning to catch flights, today's travel is far from glamorous, present company included. 

I thought it would be fun to share some of those amazing flight attendant outfits from the 60s, when Braniff turned air travel on its ear and made it a completely groovy experience. As someone who has always dreamt of wearing a uniform to work, I admire the moxie and sexiness of these gorgeous get ups. I've always loved air travel despite its obvious issues in these modern times, but these lovely ladies make me want to get up and go, man.

Cause that's what's up this fantastic voyage of a Tuesday in D Rock City. Yours, in waiting at the gate.  (Don't you just love the naughty ladies, below?) XO

Good morning, Friday (It is Friday, right?)

I woke up with cramp in my right arm that won't seem to go away. I once heard a comedian say you know you're getting old when you hurt yourself in your sleep. Noted.

I know this cramp is not caused by exercise, because I have not exercised all week, a real bummer. I'm working on a project right now that is massively intense, the kind that has an email thread with comments in red, yellow, blue, green, and every other color because everybody has to weigh in. And there's lists about lists. And meetings about meetings. 

I have literally been waking up in the morning, deciding if makeup is a good idea (nah), jumping into the city, realizing pretzels are a terrible breakfast (but delicious), and getting right the heck on it. Also I realize the only people who get to work before 9 am in the city live in Connecticut. Or me. There's me. Because I'm trying to beat the barrage of emails and catch my breath for a few precious moments in time. In stressful times, it's helpful for me to sometimes focus on a word or visual that brings me solace- lately the word that keeps appearing as I shut my eyes and focus is "peace". I gotta get me some of that.

So last night as I slept with my laptop, I wondered just how I became so pigeonholed and when, if ever, I could go to sleep with a clear mind. I am a woman without children, and apparently I have a career of sorts. it came to me as I lay in bed doze laughing at Hashtag the Panda (really gets me every time) on Fallon that there's not a whole lot of in between when it comes to our apparent life choices. As a woman (really a person but let's just say woman cause that's what I am), we are programmed to either have children and become mothers, become power babes and endlessly debate on having it all, or really do both and do them both exceedingly well, or applaud for the women who admit they can't do both well. But for me, I'm just wondering if there's a "none of the above" option. If I wanted to just do nothing for a while would that be so terrible? I think I've got enough black tee shirts for a while to float me. Is there a category called "aesthete" or "lazy sod" or "just chillin' for now, thanks"? Maybe I just want to eat ice cream in mouse ears like in the photo above. UNCLE.

Maybe it's because I'm exhausted and delirious, but really, is there anything "else" out there or are having a job and a family the only ways to go?  I'm bored with checking these boxes. I'm also bored with being perpetually stressed. What else do you have for me?   I don't want to go down like that, where the "that" is a bit too tight on me, I'd like to size up and have some room to move.There's got to be a better way- and maybe it's less about more options and more about less extreme situations into something slightly less defined.  I can't help but  think- this type of modern life, is it for me? 

Cause that's what's up this thinking outside the old box kind of Friday in the 212. Yours, in exploring the possibilities and hoping this cramp goes away. XO

Good morning, Thursday. I've been up for at least an hour hanging out with my laptop and catching up. Khan is sleeping on his side next to me and all is well for the next hour until I get to the office and the crazy begins again. Treasuring these sacred early morning hours lately. Really the most peaceful part of the day.

And since I chopped my hair last night (not too much, just back to more of a shag than a bob), I felt inspired to share photos of 60s girls with short lil hair cuts. That one of Twiggy at the top of the post pretty much captures my mood of late, and I wish Twiggy was here to help me pick out an outfit for the day like she is above. I can't be asked to do it myself. And that's what's up this cutely cropped and coiffed Thursday in the 212. Yours, in throwback goodness. XO

Good afternoon, Wednesday. Holy moly. This is some week. If you have worked in advertising, you are familiar with production crunch time. It's not cute in any way. I have not brushed my hair all week nor I have been to the gym nor have I been sleeping much at all. Thank goodness for On Demand. It's been a great week for me to catch up on all of my shows I've missed, albeit in the middle of the night.

And though it's always been my practice to attempt to post something on this blog most days, I was drawing huge blanks this morning when I thought about a topic because I've been fairly cut off from civilization this week. Being on an intense timeline to get stuff done can take its toll on a girl, particularly in the brain department. But as I came to terms with the fact that I had very little to share, I was happy when inspiration struck in the form of my Seamless delivery to my desk today, because if you are feeling defeated, a little nauseated, and straight up stressed, there ain't nothing a little comfort food won't fix. 

If you are regular reader, you know how much I love good Jewish food, how much I crave it when I am feeling a bit out of sorts.  It's just who I am and no heaping helping of kale or ginger tea will fix me. I need the food of my people.

And today's offering from Kutshers in Tribeca is a shining testament to how much I must have the food stuffs of my people when I am tweaking out on life/work and everything in between. THIS MATZOH BALL SOUP IS THE BOMB.

A mere ten minutes ago, I was feeling fluish and shaky. After this incredible soup (shown above with accompanying Dr. Brown's Diet Black Cherry of course), I am a better woman. Sure, this large serving of soupy goodness comes with a steep price- $21, baby. But trust me, it's totally worth it, particularly because it will be the only thing I eat until probably 10 pm tonight. And it's got not only fab matzoh balls but kreplach, a double whammy of MOT delicious. And with its half moon cut celery, bitty triangles of carrots and sprinkles of dill and parsley, I really can't say enough about how good it it is. And there's white meat and dark meat up in there, for you dark meat types out there (you know who you are). The broth is just fat laced enough, and if you add a teeny pinch of salt and pepper, you my friend, will reap the instant benefits I just did from eating this soup from Heaven. 

I'm feeling better already. Sure it's a million degrees outside. But in this freezing cold office, I'm nice and comfy and ready for what's to come. I'm always so fascinated by what people eat to recoup, and for me, it's almost always going to be Jewish chicken soup, because it has magic powers, whether it's from Tribeca or Jerusalem or your grandmom's kitchen. You just can't put a price on good soup. I mean, you can, but then you will freak out over spending over $20 on soup. So just don't put a price on it cause there's no room at the inn for any more stress. And by "inn" I mean asylum. Of my own mind. Oy.

Cause that's what's up this restorative Wednesday in the 212. Soup really is good food. Yours, in double dosed carbs and chicken broth.  If there is a light at the end of this tunnel, it has surely been enhanced by chicken broth and soulful slurping.  If you are in NYC, go have this. You won't be sorry. XO

Good afternoon, Monday. We had a lovely staycation of a weekend right here in New York and it was just a lovely Fourth. We nested at the Surrey uptown and took in the Jeff Koons show, ate burgers at J.G. Melon, and walked across the park to the Natural History Museum to see my favorite creepy dioramas, dinosaur bones, and of course, a planetarium show. Space, it really is the final frontier (or is it?). I could easily survive on that astronaut ice cream if it was. Good stuff. I know I'm a walking cliche when I talk about how in love with this city I still am, but I really still am. I have my moments like the next girl, but really- the Upper East Side on a pleasant summer weekend is worth its weight in meshugas. I'll take it.

In other news, I had brunch with a friend of mine who was wearing the most amazing ensemble from one of her favorite brands, Electric Feathers. I'm talking a silk pinky/lavender jumpsuit, people. She was not playing.  (As for me, I looked disheveled as ever, in my Rag and Bone PJ shorts and favorite vintage throwover toplike object. I need to make more of an effort for realsies). In my neighborhood, people don't dress to impress- in fact, they barely put on a bra. But my girl was bringing some serious look to Cobble Hill on a Sunday, and I was eternally grateful for a bit of inspiration of the fashion variety after such a schleppy weekend (my swiss dot Meg dress did come in mega handy though- it's all about cotton for me this time of year).

So after a few Hound Dogs (bourbon, grapefruit, ginger, lime, and mint= good times), we ended up talking about vintage- my friend has a great eye for such things and our talk turned to Romeo Gigli, whose genius I had somehow forgotten but was so happy to be reminded of. If you are old enough to remember the 90s, you'd know there was more than flannel floating around, and more than my beloved minimalism as well. In the 90s, bands like Portishead and Mazzy Star had us in a moody, dream state that felt narcotic (it was the 90s), ethereal, and otherwordly all at once. For women who liked something romantic and less stark than Helmut Lang and more chic than a daisy aged babydoll dress, there was Romeo Gigli, and though he stopped producing his own line just around 1991 (too many bad licensing deals), I can't help but feel that he influenced a dreamlike place in fashion that was felt for years to come.  

BECAUSE THOSE CLOTHES.

It's not hard to get swept up in these looks- if you have ever wanted to pack a bag and make like a czarina drunk on wanderlust, these were your clothes. I love that they are so exotic, so rich, so incredibly romantic. I love how sexy they are despite their volume and chastity. If you were a fan of "The Borgias", you can't help but feel a heavy Italian Renaissance influence here- Gigli's Italian point of view made these clothes so incredibly beautiful and moody in the right way, and his collaboration with Paolo Roversi, the photographer who shot the majority of his ad campaigns, is still one of my favorite collaborations of all time. It's a match made in fashion heaven. And these clothes are to die for- all cocooned, soft, tulip shaped. And how much do I still admire his embrace of women wearing flats? I read in a recent piece about him that he thought it made women walk more softly. I agree. I hate that clomp clomp of heels. Whispering not shouting. Yes please. I remember having a black gauzy dress like the one in the middle above and I adored it. Worn with flats, giant Indian earrings, and a slash of red lipstick, it was one of my favorite pieces.

I sometimes forget that there's a part of me that craves a bit of mystery, a bit of sensuality you can't buy off the rack at Zara. At press time, I've had a time trying to see if Mr. Gigli is still making clothes- I know he did a collection with Hong Kong fashion heavyweight Joyce in 2012, but have not heard if he is still making those gorgeous things. For now, I'm going to be bleary eyed looking for a crimson hued piece of that dream that surely exists in vintage form somewhere online- I loved researching this piece and looking at all of these amazing photos. If you were an art history type in college or beyond, there was no way these clothes did not rock your little post Raphaelite world. Every piece feels like a work of art, a beautiful ode to the female form that still looks so incredible today. 

And that, my friends, is what's up on this bit of fashion history kind of Monday in the 212. Class dismissed. Yours, in tulip skirts and worn steamer trunks. XO (More amazing images below). Wherefore art thou, indeed.

Good morning, Thursday and happy Fourth of July weekend. I'm going to keep things very low fi this weekend- it's been a bear of a couple of weeks and I'll be celebrating our independence by being lazy. That's my right as an American and I'm gonna use it.

So last night's miraculously scary thunder storm and rain drench had me tucked into the sofa with my little Khan man, catching up on some "housekeeping" aka keeping up with the magazines that pile up every month on my coffee table. I'm hoping the birthday fairies are kind to me this year and grant me with a mini IPad, because I like the idea of commutes spent reviewing all of my favorite reads. I've given up on reading books on the train. I think I just want to look at pretty pictures.

And as I paged through July's Vogue, I couldn't help but notice how modern it felt. With Lupita on the cover and a slew of lesser known but super great photographers on the inside- this old fashion war horse was feeling super fresh and I found myself really enjoying the issue. And David Sims is hardly an emerging talent (more like a fashion household name), but his story for July's Vogue felt so exciting. Karlie Kloss is looking divine, the makeup and hair is just enough, and the clothes- THOSE CLOTHES. The splash of red with the black and white felt super Japanese, the shapes modern and architectural and strong. I loved the framing of the story and the art direction of the pages- just felt like a bit of a departure for Vogue and very much into what's going on over there. Well done. (Scroll through the story above and you'll see what I mean).

And David also did the campaign for the new Marc by Marc Jacobs campaign, the first with Luella Bartley at the helm. The talent was chosen via Instagram and shot by Sims himself- simple and graphic and fantastic. This feels like a very cool new world for Marc to play in, and you just have to admire his constant reinvention and amazing ability to seize cultural trends and not only make them his own, but create some new ones in the process. Look for fashion advertising to follow suit. This is the next gen of "real" people photography and fashion photography altogether.

But lest you think high fashion is going to be inclusive, don't worry- there's plenty of out of touch ridiculousness still happening. Vogue posted this photo of Karlie Kloss (I have Karlie on the brain), riding through the city on a Citi Bike and acted like it was some kind of fashion revelation that she was wearing possibly the most basic of any outfit- a white button down and jeans. It's true that Karlie makes it look like a million dollar outfit, but do you need to spend anywhere close to that to get it? No. No you don't.

To get Karlie's look, here's what Vogue recommended you buy:

I mean, really? $1500 sunglasses, a $550 white button down, and $230 jeans? Oh and the Repetto flat for $265? 

Here's the break down if you can't see it in the screen shot:

Charvet slim-fit white cotton shirt, $515

Ridiculous. Here's the look for less, courtesy of your favorite fashion editor- me. You're welcome.

Go for an American Eagle skinny jean for $44.95, a modern Oxford from the men's department at the Gap for $49.99, some flats from Nine West  for just under $60 that are super Repetto like, and some Ray Bans with any color lense you want for under 200 bucks. And clearly, you don't need to buy a tote bag. You know you have canvas bags all the heck over your flat, so just use one of those. There you have it- the whole look for under $500, with the sunglasses being the big splurge. You can definitely get those for cheaper, so as much as I love Vogue's new look, I'm still gonna break off the look for less. Way, way less.

And that's what's up this red, white, and blue kind of Thursday in the 212. Yours, in fiscal responsibility and star spangled banners. XO

Hi, Wednesday. It's hot as hell outside. I'm a mess. I realllly don't get along with this weather. I want to break up. I'm way more of a Stark than a Lannister when it comes to mercury- I suppose I have a Northern soul.

So yesterday my husband posted a funny list to Facebook about what he "assumes" women like. The list was as follows: