the world according to sherimaven

Good morning, Wednesday. Yea yea yea it's cold blah blah blah. I know it's fairly frigid, but isn't that the way it's supposed to be in the winter? We've all become a bunch of wusses, and I mean more in New York than other parts of the country where it's been brutal and pipes are bursting and it's no bueno. One day of subzeros (and 22 today) and everyone goes crackers. Calm down, people. By now you have a huge puffer coat that restricts movement, some warm boots, and one of those ridiculous trapper hats (guilty on all counts). Keep it together.

But today's post is not about being cold; it's about getting toasty.

Last week Colorado and Washington legalized marijuana for recreational use. To me, this is a major milestone and a good call. Whether you smoke pot or not, it's high time (sorry for that) this happened according to many.  Good for them, and I suspect they're about to get a major boost in tourism (eco tourism of sorts) from people who want to enjoy something other than a martini. Which brings me to a question that someone who has worked in advertising as long as I have can't help but ask- what opportunities does this present for a new class of entrepreneurs who want to make some green from all of this pot permissiveness?

I picture way more restaurants that focus on snacks, and since it's Colorado and Washington, I'm picturing healthy, artisanal snacking options- newfangled snack bars to suit the tastes of stoners- think sweet and salty all at once. And maybe there will even be new versions of laser light shows at planetariums- forget Laser Floyd, dude. It'll be all about Laser Tame Impala or Laser Radiohead. And what about brands like Visine or sofa brands or companies like Beats who enhance any stoner experience? Surely they can do something pop up or fun to help clear out all of those bloodshot eyes or provide a new sound experience for stoner types? Or what about a line of designer bongs for that modern mantelpiece, or Paul Smith striped rolling papers? 

Welcome to the era of stoner marketing- it won't be forever until the rest of the country follows suit- and regardless of whether you're more Sinatra or Snoop Dogg when it comes to your party habits, you can't deny that there's a real opportunity there. If you think about all of the marketing surrounding alcohol, maybe one day the same will be true of pot. Imagine a day when different strains are "brands" and have their own marketing profile, and I'm sure there's a few people in advertising who know a thing or two about this subject matter, and that's all I'll say about that. Is this the dawning of a new Age of Aquarius?

I don't think it's too far off, and in this very entrepreneurial age, going green can now mean oh so many different things- from growing your own to feeding hungry stoners to designing plush smoking rooms (the new bar/billiards room) in upscale and progressive homes. Sure this all sounds bizarre and a bit silly right now, but so is maple syrup vodka. Remember when vodka was just vodka? For now, pot is just pot (unless you are a real aficionado), but I suspect that's about to change. Cause that's what's up this chronic Wednesday in the 212. Yours, in thinking about the future. Apparently, it's all going up in smoke.  Peace and love. XO

 

Good late morning. Welcome to the polar vortex, pallies. Shit's getting real.

So last night, as the temps dropped, we noticed a lack of fun things to watch on television. I have not watched "The Bachelor" since way back in the day, but since it was so hyped on Facebook, I couldn't help but give it a go. And man, is that show disturbing.

As I watched generic looking women in tight dresses struggle to breath and giggle nervously like sorority girls, I felt a little sick. Why on Earth would any woman go on TV (or man) and look for love this way? Is it really that hard for any of us these generically beautiful ladies and admittedly cute bachelor to get dates? Is it really easier to find true love on national television? Yea, I know. It's entertainment. But as  I watched tweaked out after tweaked out plastic women (most likely dying of starvation) parade themselves in front of one guy (one special guy), I felt somehow sad for all of them. With the exception of the opera singer who was wearing a dress she could actually move in and who seemed to play a more coy and less desperate role (of course he gave her the rose, duh), all of these women were gorgeous, but a hot mess. I'd give good money to learn what it is a "mineral coordinator" does for a living, or how loving dogs or being a free spirit provides ample pay for room and board. (Sign me up for both of those, ps).

But besides having to turn away a few times from sheer embarrassment for some of these ladies (never give a massage on a first date), another thought crossed my mind. Why does every single girl on this show have long hair and wear pageant dresses? What about girls who are more individual, more fashion forward, or more bookish? Do women who are watching this that don't fit the Barbie profile feel that they won't find their prince if they don't look like this or is it just fun to watch a train wreck? I love the girl they identified as the "free spirit"- she wore a garland in her hair and spun around like she was at Woodstock. Careful of the brown acid, folks. (Then again, it would be way more fun to watch if she dosed them all, wouldn't it?)

I vote for a new version of the Bachelor, wherein our bachelor is some sort of creative type who likes an edgier woman- it would be nice to see women vying for a man's affection in less than traditional ways. Or better yet, I'd just die to see Louis CK as the ultimate bachelor catch- why does everyone have to be so perfect on this show and if they are, why can't they find a damn soulmate already? What hope do mere mortals have? I am looking forward to seeing what happens with that prosecutor lady, who seems to think it's ok to go into a courtroom and fight crime with overly ombre'd hair. She does seem like she can kick an ass, though- she's the wild card. Watch out for her, dog lover. Watch the fuck OUT.

It's obvious this show makes women look like complete schmucks, doing away with it completely would probably be best. And I'm not suggesting a bunch of genetic misfits would make this show more engaging- just show some people who have a little bit of flavor and not so, well, vanilla. Ugh. I guess I'm going to have to keep watching until they bring on some edgier types to spice it up- I do so love a good train wreck, and most likely, so do you. But really, can these chicks look a little more interesting, less generic, and wear dresses that don't make them look like strippers? Juan Pablo (a cutie AND a single dad- hey ladies!!)  didn't seem to mind- though big points to him for picking the overseas living opera singer for that coveted first rose (must. get. that. rose). At least her non sausage like and admittedly pretty dress did not seem to shatter her ribs. Poor mineral coordinator. She didn't stand a chance.

Cause that's what's up this finding soul mates on television kind of Tuesday in the very reality based 718. Keep warm, kiddies. It's a cold world out there. Yours, in radiated heat, peace, and real love. Oh, and I heard Juan Pablo met Lena Dunham on Good Morning America yesterday and proclaimed him "a delight". Now that would be a match made in (indie) heaven. XO

Good morning, Monday. Many of you are back at it today- G-d speed. 

And I'll tell you who else is at it for the first real work week of the year- our new mayor, Bill de Blasio. I was intrigued by Cathy Horyn's piece in the Sunday New York Times entitled, "The de Blasios: A Simple Outfit". The piece explored how our new mayor and his family wore nothing special to the inauguration- sure Dante's afro and Chiara's head wraps (and drug problems) have been trending, but for the most part, in terms of style, this family looks "just like us".

Sure the look of a progressive may not be big news, and after all, as Ms. Horyn notes, our last mayor, though worth gazillions, never equated power with designer duds. But what's interesting to me is the fact that as New Yorkers, we really don't dress up much contrary to our image as on the go style stalwarts in tutus and Manolo Blahniks. (Seeing de Blasio in that get up would surely be interesting).

When my in laws came to town this past holiday, they asked me what they needed to pack. I told them not much- that most places we were going to would not require them to dress up. Even a night out on the town in New York (take our night to go see Sandra Bernhard at Joe's Pub followed by dinner at Indochine) did not require a high heel, a jacket, or much more than some lipstick. I feel very comfortable in New York walking around with my hair in a ponytail, in a chic but understated outfit of mostly black. When I went to London last Spring, I noticed how many people there dress for dinner, as in, REALLY DRESS. Though I appreciated the effort, I found my style was less equated to a Russian oligarch heiress and more akin to a casual, urban New York thing. To not get dressed up in New York is actually a sign that you live here- you may be too busy working and surviving and running around like a lunatic to go home and sit in front of a dressing table and actually "get dressed".  Plus, there's some kind of cred to being too rich or powerful (I fall in neither of those camps ps) to worry about looking like a fashion victim. True money doesn't wear it that way- I'm always reminded of Si Newhouse, the very powerful media tycoon and owner of no less than Conde Nast, driving himself around in a VW Beetle. And both Bloomberg and de Blasio prefer taking the subway over blacked out Escalades. New York powerhouses- they're just like us.

I remember living in Soho many years ago and walking around my neighborhood on the weekends in sweatpants. As the hordes of well dressed tourists turned out to shop and lunch in over the top designer this and that, my statement to them was that I actually lived in Soho, and moreover, in New York City, and any attempts to dress up were trumped by a more functional and insider approach to fashion. If you look around the next time you go out to the latest bar or dinner spot (Adam Platt gave a great list in last week's New York mag by the way), you'll no doubt notice that we are not a dressed up tribe, us New York types.  And though I always kept a pair of heels at my office for "just in case" scenarios like after work parties or openings or dinners, I rarely put them on. Usually I was in too  much of a rush to get where I was going after work to risk breaking my neck on some high heels. Most days, if I knew I was going out after work, I'd wear something even more basic- a simple palette of black that could go anywhere and do anything without offending anyone or feeling entirely wrong. It may sound boring, but it's true. And it's not that we'd ever dress badly- it's just about looking cool, street smart, and sophisticated vs. overly styled, dressed, or precious.

I will say that Christine Quinn, who was once touted as a shoo in for mayor before she lost the race to de Blasio, did not focus on fashion either, but perhaps in the wrong way. Her bright red hair and Chico's ensembles did not do her any favors- this is still a city where style counts, a lot, so be mindful about the whole thing- it's not about "not caring" about fashion, it's just keeping it all very low key and simple. I'll never forget watching "The Devil Wears Prada" and thinking just how off the movie was in terms of the way magazine editors dressed- most of them (almost all of them) are not fashion victims in any way- they tend to skew more minimalist chic, if not slightly conservative, with a little room to play when it comes to formal dress. 

And when I have to get dressed up, as in really dolled up for a wedding or some such dressy event, I tend to panic. I'm not a fan of it and prefer my ponytail, quick dash of makeup, and any variety of grown up dark hued Garanimals that comprise my wardrobe- being overdone is pretty well over for me. Because if you really want to look like a New Yorker and not a tourist, don't dress up. We don't, so why should you?  Cause that's what's up this keepin' it casual kind of Monday in the 212. I'm taking cues from the mayor and my years of living here- you have to dress down to keep up. Yours, in New York style. XO

(PS there's big exceptions to this of course- Lord bless those who still bring it, and bring it hard. We need you more than ever, because most of us don't have the energy. Thank you for keeping things interesting).

Good snow day, Friday. I've got some kind of cold/flu like sitch and am just laying low after some lovely time with family and friends for a solid few weeks. This break has felt like such a luxury- and though spending the rest of it in bed is not what I had in mind, I'm cool with it. What else should one do in subzero temperatures and a foot of snow outside?

But besides snuggling up and settling in, I can't help but feel 2014 will be a year to try new things- everyone seems to be talking about a movement towards a mindful society, so it's no surprise some of our fashion and lifestyle choices are skewing more mind than matter these days. Take the humble Birkenstock- not a shoe typically associated with fashion. I remember saying as a young fashion fan that there were two things I would NEVER wear: Doc Martens or Birkenstocks. I'm not sure what I had against Doc Martens (I myself was more partial to a Paraboot as a young punk chick) but I do know what I had against a Birkenstock, and chances are, so do you. But then suddenly last summer, Phoebe Philo and Celine gave us a chic and luxurious take on the admittedly ugly footwear, and voila, a trend was born. Sure this was a high fashion launch, so give the rest of us a year or so to catch up, would you?

And just this past summer in Japan, I reported about my attempt to buy a white Birkenstock sandal, only to be turned away because the only ones available in my size were the sample- apparently not for sale in rule laden Tokyo. But back in our society, I'll be snapping up a pair of Birks wherever I can get them, and when new online retailer The Dreslyn (fab by the way, don't hate me) graced my inbox with their editorial on Birkenstocks, I realized I MUST own a pair. 

That chick with the pin straight hair, v neck tee, slouchy pants and jacket and Birks? Oh yea. I'm all in for that. Am I exhibiting sheep like mentality by wanting a trend made big by Celine last year? Herd me, Phoebe Philo. I'll wear whatever you say. Plus with all of those white stuff on the ground, how can I not yearn for an open toe? I see these working beautifully (the grey suede in particular) with leggings and a long tee, a knee length dress or skirt and white men's shirt- very Japanese somehow, and adore the utilitarian vibe-  bonus points for being comfortable as all get out. Maybe the mindful thing is setting in after all...function and fashion meet and the results are amazing. It's kind of like kale. Who even thought that would become such a trendy food- or even the stinky brussels sprout? Two foods that are really good for you but are not the sexiest thing in the entire world...but both are damn good for you so you better eat them if you want to live a mindful life.  

So are Birkenstocks, and they're going to replace the flip flop and the ballet flat this summer, mark my words, or those of Garance Dore, who very sweetly writes about them and hopes her readers still love her after she pops them on- and with socks (major fashion no no, no more- everything sacrilege is chic). After all, haven't we all suffered the cruel and unusual pain of high heels for too long? I for one am ready for a little relief. It's been tough teetering around for all of these years. Are peace and love (or the footwear of said sentiment) the new black? I believe so.  After all, they just legalized recreational pot in Colorado.Dress accordingly.

And regardless of whether I put these on my feet or not, you ain't ever going to see me in fleece. That's just something I can't do, and if you ever see me in it, call the cops and have them lock me up somewhere padded. That is, of course, until Phoebe Philo finds a way to make it not just warm and practical, but chic. PS- can't wait to see The Row's version. Here's Ashley Olsen rocking her originals below (and above in the double denim, also once a fashion crime), but I vote for a collaboration because you know that would be groovy.

And that's what's up this mindful Friday in the snow filled 718. Stay warm, kids. Yours, in mindful fashion. Namaste. XO

Good morning, 2014. I am so beyond relieved for 2013 to have left the building,as I'm sure many of you are too.

It was a year for me of feeling out of sorts on so many different levels, but most of all, for not being true to myself.  For the record, I'm not going through some big cheesy new age breakthrough because it's the new year. But it just so happens that the end of the year put a nice little bow on that sentiment, and I'm taking advantage of some naf stuff happening at year's end to make me realize I really needed to make some changes, even if they were forced upon me faster than I thought they would be. But job stress aside, nothing can quite compare to the feeling of losing one's ticket at Katz's. Nothing at all.

am not a big pastrami person and though I appreciate the magic of an old school spot like Katz's still kicking it, I'm very happy to pass it by and roll my eyes at the ten deep line of tourists waiting to put their big pie holes around some freshly carved meat.  But with family in town, you have to do some New York things you would probably otherwise ignore. So with pounds and pounds of winter coats and hats and gloves and scarves, in we trudged to the smoked meat stalwart, where large doormen (who felt more appropriate for checking IDs at some club than standing guard at a deli counter) hustled us in and yammered on about some rules of the house, while I distractedly looked around and wondered what is wrong with America. (I do that a lot lately). Yea, there's signs and stuff that tell you to hold on to that little sucker while you inhale some food, but the chaos going on around the place is a potent distraction.

If you have not been to Katz's, you should go and experience it, just don't go when everyone else goes (lunchtime on a holiday weekend) and you should be able to fill your maw with all of the pastrami or corned beef or pickles your cholesterol laden heart could want.  To me, people feasting in this sheep like way is most unappealing- being herded like cattle to eat a bunch of dead animals is just not really my thing. Factor in the 700 degree temperature and glazed eye look of too many tourists and you have a a recipe for "get me the fuck out of here". You'd think right?

After finding seats, a few of my family members sat themselves down- my father in law's wife had the unfortunate opportunity to have her back directly against the ladies room door. The rest of the gang looked to be in in to win it- David and his dad and my sister's husband. It took me about three seconds to realize that my sister and my niece and nephew were not going to fare well in this meshugas, and before I knew it, they bailed for the Remedy diner, a few blocks away and admittedly less insane. (Still hot though, WTF New York- get some modern heat already- this radiator shit is killing me). 

When my own panic about being hot and crowded by meat zombies officially seized my very own being, I excused myself from the table and made a break for it. I bumped into several scores of bundled up children and several tourists who are not well versed in New York crowd etiquette. Finally I reached the front door, and that's when the shit started. I had lost my little yellow ticket and the door goons would not let me leave.

Yes, I know. Everybody knows you must show a ticket to leave the joint.  When said door goons were telling us that I had totally ignored them, because I was overwhelmed by the siege of people and the need to control the situation for ten members of my family who had never been in this level of crazy. But guess what? Because I was so busy worrying about everyone else not losing their minds in such a situation, I lost mine. And I equate losing my mind to losing this ticket because without it, there's no getting out of Katz's.

After much persuading and manager wrangling and pleading everything from chronic panic attacks to menopause, I managed to get out of there, WITHOUT that damn ticket, but not before making a huge scene- not something I enjoy on any level. Apparently there's a $50 fine for such things, but I found my way out, wallet in tow, and sanity too. If there's a moral of the story- it's threefold and goes something like this:

If you are willing to break the rules, you have to be wiling to pay the price- losing a ticket at a place like Katz's can lead to public humiliation, a fine, and a whole lot of bullshit. If you, like me, are too rebellious to pay attention when the rules are read, be ready to plead your case to a very unsympathetic jury. Surely you have way more charisma than I do, so I won't worry about you. Keep breaking the rules. Way more fun that way.

Don't do whatever everyone else does and don't worry about what everyone else wants. If you know enough to know that grown people in your life can handle finding a seat and eating a sandwich, that's half the battle. That doesn't mean you have to join them- they will most likely enjoy it despite you, and will probably be happier when they don't have to hear you kvetch about the whole thing. Don't worry, they'll catch up with you later. Go get a coffee or something. Spending too much time worrying about others is going to make you nuts. Trust that they will find their way.

Hold on to that stupid ticket- As pointless as a yellow piece of carnival cardboard may seem, it's more important than you think. Just squirrel that shit away for safe keeping- you never know when you're going to need it and then you don't have to worry about it. Nobody likes to be yelled at- but again- if you can't handle following the rules, see the first one I wrote above. Rebelliousness and ticket loss go hand in hand. After I mentioned to one of the doormen that he probably "wouldn't talk to his mother like that", he zinged back with "yea, well my mother wouldn't be dumb enough to lose her ticket".  Ugh.

Oh and here's a freebie- just be yourself. Had I listened to my intuition when I saw the line at Katz's and felt the hot breath of a thousand tourists on my neck (pre-pastrami thank the Lord), I would have walked myself right down to Russ and Daughters and ordered the Super Heeb like the mensch I am. I hate pastrami and I hate crowds. So I had no real business being there in the first place. Sure my family wanted to go, but again, it's worse to bring the party down than to just not show up at all. I'm sticking to that. Oh, and if I'm making any analogy to the type of year I had in 2013, it's that I think I constantly had the feeling I was showing up without a ticket, yet somehow, I didn't feel like looking for it, because I know it  could not be found and I would find my way out anyway. I always do. 

2014 baby- I'm going to try and hold on to those tickets while still being true to me- I just can't guarantee I won't lose a few along the way- I'm not good at being told what to do and never have been. Cause that's what's up this hot pastrami of a Wednesday on this very first day of 2014. A fresh start, people.  A Fresh Start. That I'd wait in line for- let's just hope I can write my OWN ticket this time. XO

OH, AND HAPPY NEW YEAR LET'S DO THIS.

Good morning, Monday.  In the pantheon of winter breaks, this has been a huge winner. We've had so much time to spend together- David and I had some lovely days and then his family came to town and we're having a very lovely time. Mine came the other day as well and looking forward to New Year's in Philadelphia- low key style, with perhaps a Mummer or two on New Year's Day. I can't help it. I love 'em. But I came to talk about something else.   Sandra Bernhard is cooler than you.  And if you didn't know, you better recognize. 

I just saw Ms. Sandra perform at Joe's Pub in what has now become an annual holiday event for me. I've been going to see her perform for years and she only gets better, funnier, sexier. She came out, all loopy mouthed and tuxedo shirted and leather panted and man- she brought it hard. She talked about so many things that you can relate to as a person who observes culture- from voting liberal for mayor and then freaking out about raised taxes and less police presence to her hatred of Prague or wondering wtf is up with those "who wore it better" columns in all the magazines. In between all of that, she sings, and for the grand finale, the original Ms. B. took  her encore in a ribbed tank and boxer briefs and hammered the shit out of Miley's "Wrecking Ball" mashed up with Journey's "Don't Stop Believin", and looked damn hot doing it. Oh by the way, Sandra is almost 60. Yes, yes she is.

So as I sat there and watched this rather outsized personality of a woman with less than traditional good looks (though I find her pretty gorgeous), I thought about how, as a woman, you fare much better over the years being a character, a big spirit, a bit of a left of center who doesn't give a crap about pissing people off or not appealing to the masses and is just straight up raw. Sure, she's gotten some botox (and happily admits it), but she's not trying to look like a Kardashian or some other ridiculous person because she never could. And she doesn't have to- she's better than that. A tuxedo shirt and leather pants looks hot on 20 year olds, and it looks hot on 50 something year olds too. And coming out in mens underwear under hot lights and a New York audience is just plain brave. And that's the sexiest thing a  woman can be, if you ask me. 

I'm just saying as I've been trying to get myself in shape since some tough breaks at work this past year, I'm realizing the lunacy of trying to be something you're not. Yes, I believe in personal best but as I shimmy up to the barre and pretend that putting my legs straight overhead while clutching a ballet barre  is never going to be easy for me- as if shaking should really be considered a good thing (you barre class types know what that means). Yea, I know it shouldn't be easy but as I watch these ladies in class in their matching LuLu outfits, with the butts of 23 year olds but more pushing 50, I couldn't help but wonder why must we, as women, try so hard to be the things we just can't be?  I will never be a ballerina. I was terrible at ballet as a child, and I'm of the type of Eastern European stock where ballerinas are not made. So how at my age now could I possibly believe that somehow, by doing these wicked exercises, I'd become long and sinewy, flat chested, and ready to dance en pointe? Don't worry, I don't believe that, and I'm going to keep doing it because I'm an idiot and like to complain, but that's besides the point.

My point is that when a woman is bright and brave and rebellious, the whole notion of age sort of slips off of her back. If you can own those parts of yourself and worry less about fitting into the same clothes you wore in high school, you're going to be happier as a human being, and more importantly, as a woman. I'm not saying don't try to look your best, but shift the focus to how far you've come, how much you know, and how insanely talented you are. Not all of us can get on a stage and dissect culture and sing with a band, but I'd rather channel that any day than try to be a a late in life ballerina. Know what I mean, jellybeans? Why would you try so hard to look the way you did when you were 23, when we all know at 23 most of us were not even close to "there"? It's sad to me how many women expect to look the way they did back then- the big question is, would you ever want to act the way you did back then? Yeesh, not me. I was a hateful little bastard.

That's why Sandra's cooler than you, and me, of course. Because as a woman who has always owned her look and her schtick since forever, she always keeps them coming back for more- she had wild younger days and now talks about being a mom and a partner with the same ribald awesomeness she did when talking about hanging out with Madonna.  She understands the lunacy of our society and has found her very own forum within it. She is her own unique entity and nobody could replace her- I'd rather be known for being sexy and smart and urbane any day- the whole chasing the youth dragon thing is not my cup of tea- I believe in the fountain of truth- if you own who you are and be passionate about it, you're going to fare way better later, botox or no botox. Just be who you are, and l guarantee you there will be worshipping at your altar for many years to come. Cause that's what's up this Sandy rules kind of Monday in the 212.  I'm writing a New Year's post tomorrow so look out for it. Yours, in staying true, to you. And thank you Ms. Sandra, for bringing it so hard, year after year. I'll always be there to adore you, as long as you keep showing up.  You matter more than you know- oh, and all of you do too, so stop trying to be anything other than what or who you are. XO

Good afternoon, Friday. Lovely day in the Brooklyn today- went back to the gym this week (sometimes you need to stand still to get moving- life is funny that way) and hung out today with a dear friend and strolled the neighborhood. And with 2014 around the block, the need for clarity has never been more important to me. Perhaps that's why I'm gravitating towards a transparency not just in what I want to accomplish next year, but also in what I wear. I adore Alex Wang's new site- a fabulous use of digital and LOVE the "Exposed" series in the gift guide section- where everything you need for a week in the tropics or time with the in laws comes in an easy to see map of X Rayed goodness.  I dig a what you see is what you get kind of vibe right now- so why not put it all out there and show the world what you're holding for a change?

I was in Bloomingdales this week and loved the Furla (yup, Furla) candy satchel in rubber- it's clear and comes in candy coated colors and is a super fun bag to pack for sunny days somewhere warm- clear for takeoff if you will. It's really really cute and fun and a great for us oversharers out there who want the world to see what we're all about. I just had to go on the Furla site and see what else there was...lots of cute and clear pieces, loving the backpack below. 

But if showing the contents of your purse leaves you cold, don't worry- there's plenty of other ways to get clear this holiday season. Here's a few of them- at all price points, with some bags to see you through the New Year:

Oliver Peoples Bradford Clear glasses, $340 at Neiman Marcus- love these glassy frames that let your eyes do all the talking. 

Jeffrey Campbell Ondine Clear Bootie, $122.50  for the blue and $175 for the clear at Nasty Gal- I mean. If you can do the blue ones, you're my new hero. Fabulous for Resort Wear- I can so see rocking these HARD in a place like Miami.

Charlotte Olympia Pandora bags, various, at Neiman Marcus- can't get enough of Charlotte Olympia and her amazing wit. Love these bags- they're a small fortune but that one below that comes with three little pouches inside and a flowered top? Come on. Oh and the postcard bag is pretty much the bag we all want when on vacation. So great and not too serious, even though it's a super luxury buy.

Tory Burch Maja cuff, $195 at Tory Burch- so nice on a tanned arm. That is all. Yes I'm all about Tory this week. And?

Lucite clutch, $59 at Meg

I saw this firsthand today at the Meg shop on Atlantic Avenue in Brooklyn- adorbs. Perfect for holiday parties and New Year's eve. Stuff it with confetti and a good red lipstick and you're good to go. 

So there's a few choices to keep it all transparent and real at the end of this very weird year and to toast in the beginning of the next. After all, what do you have to hide?

Cause that's what's up this show what you've got to get what you want kind of Friday in the 718.  Don't be ashamed of your baggage- show it all to the world with these lovely  pieces. Are we clear?  XO

Good morning, Thursday.

Just took a lovely walk with Khan and now we are snuggled together while I debate the virtues of showering (showering is going to win). 

I just wanted to say that although this has been a bit of a crazy end of year for me, I feel strong. I feel full of hope and possibilities and peacefulness. I feel these things because I've been uneasy for some time and just like that, I'm not. Sure this is a minute by minute endeavor- yesterday the Christmas music in all the stores I went into had me feeling a bit blue. But then I saw some friends and had a lovely dinner and realized everything is going to be just fine- as a person who lives in a free society, I am way luckier than most. 

And the luckiest thing I have going for me, right now, at this very moment, is mindfulness. Today I woke up for the first time in a long time without much to do. It was a gift, beyond a gift, to be able to sleep late and take Khan through our favorite neighborhood spots in his new holiday sweater. Right now as I write this, he's nuzzled in my lap, fast asleep. It's quiet in my apartment and all I can hear is his little breath and the sound of my thoughts. Imagine that. I can't say there's been many moments this year where I've perfected the art of doing nothing at all, and though I don't want to sit around forever, right here, right now, I am so very content. It is so hard to do- this doing nothing. We all have schedules, routines, families and lives that don't allow for much quiet time, or time to do very little in a sea of so very much. Our phones keep our schedules and we're pinged whenever we have a meeting, a doctor's appointment, or a reminder to run an extra couple of miles. I love that I am sitting here and looking forward to seeing some more friends this afternoon and evening, and I will always treasure this moment right now as a little gift and reminder of how we associate doing nothing with boredom or stasis. Right now, I'm happy not to move and not to overthink. For the first time in a few years, I'm going to just enjoy the moment today- who knows what tomorrow or ten minutes from now will bring- I've shut off the notifications and am reveling in said stasis and feeling balanced in this motionless moment. At last. After so much running around and stressing, I realized that all of that activity made it very hard for me to actually DO anything. I really am grateful for this time, and I know it's not going to last forever so savoring it while I can. Because to be able to still keep standing, I'm very much in tune with the need to just stand still.

Cause that's what's up this quiet little Thursday in the 718. Please take a moment this holiday season to give yourself the best gift ever- and that's doing nothing at all. Don't worry, it all picks up again in the New Year. Yours, in standing still. XO

Good morning, Wednesday. The sun is shining here in New York and hopefully all this snow/ice noise will melt and we can finally wear good shoes again.

In other news, it's my style icon/spirit animal/rock and roll hero's birthday today. Happy birthday, Keith Richards. My love for you knows no bounds. You have inspired my style for many years (before there was ever boho chic there was you)  and your elegant wastedom moves me to this very day; and don't even get me started on my love for your music. 

Years ago on a photo shoot I asked the hairdresser for a trim- I told him I like to rock more of a Keith Richards vibe and he said "oh honey why not strive to look more like Anita and less like Keith?" It truly never occurred to me. Keith's hair during the Exile days is the high bar for me. I may go to my bobbed place but once I grow my hair out, it always ends up in some sort of homage to my hero. Keith, happy 70th to the coolest cat alive. No better way to celebrate your life than to put on my headphones, crank up some Stones, and share some of my photos of your signature style. That one at the top of the post? I will own you one day, and you will hang in my home over some sort of rigged up altar to your awesomeness. This much I know. And getting off a (private) plane with a white blazer, a bottle of Jack under one arm, some aviators, a fabulous hat, and THAT bracelet? Yes, don't mind if I do.

Cause that's what's up this gonna walk before they make me run/I know it's only rock and roll kind of Wednesday in the 212. Yours, in Keithness. XO

Good morning, Tuesday. It's grey and dingy and snowy in New York and though I love a good storm, I couldn't help but feel a pang when I got Tory Burch's Resort 2014 catalogue in the mail yesterday. Tory is very good at crafting wanderlust- her take on upscale vacation wear always inspires me to dream a little bigger, and a lot more sunny. I also adore the nod to the photography of Slim Aarons, which is so very TB- I'm ready for a martini at the Breakers right about now. Genius.

Loving the above looks- I'm partial to the all navy, sneakered look. Well heeled, and comfortable. I love the shape of the top and skirt,  and the prints are subtle yet punchy while the striped looks are fresh and perfect for tan skin. I'm picturing a beautiful hotel room, a bouquet of gardenias, and a stack of magazines and books for poolside afternoons. Lovely wardrobe for a vacation- and let's be honest- warm sunshine on one's shoulders does not sound so terrible right now. Tory, take me away.

Cause that's what's up this let's go somewhere warm kind of Tuesday in the 212. I love the snow, but Tory can take me somewhere tropic like any time. XO