Like... Pre-Fall 2011 "True Grit" Couture...

Images from the movie "True Grit"

Over the holiday weekend I saw the new Coen brother's movie "True Grit" and although I hardly expected to be sartorially inspired, I was. Watching that movie called to mind the many looks from the pre-fall 2011 collections which all seemed to be channeling a woman whose persona would be described as: Western outlaw-meets-Victorian spinster. A strange combination in theory, but the hybrid-looks fared well strutting down the runway. All channeling a bit of the seventies vibe with styling and accessories, the looks avoid turning into costumes. Of course, some deliver this better than others, Zac Posen's brilliant blue eye-shadow balances the Victorian shaped silhouettes and rugged neutrals. Burberry Prorsum's cinched waists add both drama and shape to their luxe-prairie dresses and over the top barn coat looks. ADAM comes close to caricature with the grey button-up skirt, and turtleneck look that goes too far with the addition of a black neck scarf and heavy socks; however, in other areas there was success, pairing a tuxedo blazer with a long floral dress, or his brilliant wide-leg trouser look topped with an over-the-top jacket, half of which is lush fur. Donna Karen's collection seems pretty literal, but on closer inspection the elaborate draping, layering and mixing of textures makes these looks impeccable from head to toe. Perhaps my favorite collection is from J. Mendel who unexpectedly embraced the trend, presenting a creative balance between delicate underthings and voluminous toppings. I love how the looks seem thrown together, yet remain polished. I imagine a girl out on the range who is forced to attend a fancy party- and this is what she comes up with, layering menswear with fur or nightgowns with barn coats. The stories these collections evoke is half the fun- and I think these designers may have seen a sneak preview of True Grit when designing for what is sure to be a very fashionable fall 2011!

Looks from Donna Karen

Looks from ADAM...

Some from J. Mendel

A few from Zac Posen...

Last but not least, Burberry Prorsum...

Loathe... Post-Holiday Heaviness (and I'm not just talking about those 3 pounds!)

The other day I was out with my mom and sister doing the dreaded returning, exchanging and subsequent bargain-hunting following our family's gift-giving, and while waiting in line I was surreptitiously, and probably inappropriately entertained by the breakdown of another patron waiting in line: this fellow line inhabitant was only a small child.

Despite her age and small stature, I was completely amused by her slow decent into full-on hysterics because, despite my years and height, I too wanted to blubber, throw my fancy hat on the floor and mumble things like, "I'm tired..." only to be swooped up by my patient mother and called, "sweet-pea". Instead, stuck in my twenty-four year old body, I had to keep my composure, internalize my desire to ask my mom to "hold me" and wait like everyone else to buy my new down coat at 50% off. It was this experience however, that enlightened me on the trauma that the joys of the Christmas holiday subsequently inflict.

For one thing, the holiday begins about a month in advance. In this month we are inundated with Christmas music, Christmas movies on television, Christmas movies in the theaters, Christmas decorations, Christmas cards, Christmas shopping and co-workers bringing Christmas-themed treats to the office every. single. day.

The result of this anticipatory celebrating is us getting accustomed to consistent good cheer, pretty lighted streets and an unending supply of delicious morsels to eat throughout the day. It also comes with the added anxiety, joy and nausea of traveling home. Anxiety for the travel. Joy to see loved ones. Nausea at the thought of running into that ex-boyfriend, high school bully or getting stuck at a bad table at Christmas dinner. And, don't forget another round of anxiety for the trip back. The combination of these emotions and the abrupt manner in which they end- this all occurs typically in three or four days tops- is enough to push any person to their limit.

Now in these post-Christmas days we find ourselves resigned to watch as the treats stop appearing in the office kitchen, the lights are taken down from the streets and the Christmas classics return to the usual top 40 hits. We are left, a few pounds heavier (please say I'm not the only one), a little less fiscally stable, missing your family and friends and if you're anything like me, re-playing an awkward encounter with someone from your past over-and-over in your head.

And so, at this point, exhausted and emotionally wrought it's no wonder that we find ourselves a bit despondent. And though I highly doubt it, perhaps, under the circumstances it was normal for me to find myself relating and, yes, relishing in a child's tantrum at that crowded department store, which it must be said, had an empty chair where his Christmas highness sat days earlier surrounded by elves and his main squeeze Mrs. Clause, as if we needed that sight to rub it in that Christmas was over...

Sunday Thoughts... Starbucks Soul Mate

Going to Starbucks every morning is, let's face it not simply about the coffee. It's about the overall experience, the ritualistic process of going through the motions, ultimately to take that first sip of a delightful and highly caffeinated beverage. My Starbucks ritual begins when I depart my bus and walk the five-or-so steps it takes to reach the entrance to that beacon of morning exhaustion that conveniently sits on the corner two blocks from my office. Piling in with fellow drowsy (and now freezing) caffeine enthusiasts, we enter the warm and cheerful place that is bustling with excitement.

These days Annie Lennox's Christmas Album plays and there is a little yellow propped up sign reading "Caution: Wet Floor", since we all tread in perpetual snow and ice. The smells and sights of the usual customers feel like coming home. My favorite patron is a fabulously dressed man who sits, his wheelchair behind his table, with his laptop out. He is a little older, with silver hair, cut short and he pretty consistently openly expresses annoyance with certain patrons, sighing heavily or glaring. I like to imagine what he bases his judgments on- have the bumped his chair? Offended him in some way, perhaps by simply being less dashing? Or maybe it's those unfortunate Starbucks-goers who seem daunted by the processes of ordering, picking up and doctoring their beverages. I catch myself agreeing with his assessments as well- the second he groans in someones direction, I am immediately on his side. Perhaps it is his thick-rimmed glasses (think Tom Ford's line... maybe they are Tom Ford!) that give him an heir of distinguished authority or the simple fact that by noticing his reactions, I feel in-the-loop, but either way he adds excitement to my morning. As do the baristas who day-in-day-out serve me my coffee just the way I like it- now, without me even having to place an order.

One day this week; however, something really special happened. I met my Starbucks soul mate. Following the person ahead of me I filed in line, removed my headphones from my freezing ears and surveyed the case of delicious treats (I stayed strong and resisted the urge to get that croissant, opting for my regular old banana) and was quickly greeted by one of the regular baristas, who says to me "Grande Pike with room?" Ah! The satisfaction of being a regular somewhere! I nod, say thanks and move along in line towards the register. I notice that another barista friend, who is working the register today has a new hair color- a few shades darker than her usual golden blond, while thinking about how much I liked it, I heard something very interesting...

The man behind me was repeating my daily order word-for-word, "I'll have a Grande Pike with room please." Not "A Grande mild coffee" or "Grande Pike's Place" but "Grande Pike with room please." Now I recognize that this isn't that big of a coincidence. I am sure there are millions of people in the world who have discovered that Pike is the best roast and adding a bit of milk makes it the perfect morning delight, but, this was my first Nora Ephronic experience in a bustling city, in a coffee shop and I was alarmed. It quickly got more serious. After I paid my usual $3.19 for my coffee and banana breakfast I scooted over to the service station and reached for the 2% milk. This is one of the reasons I cherish my Starbucks: they have 2% milk. Skim is always too watery and whole or half and half is too thick, and mixing the two- oh please! I am just waking up, I am not interested in conducting a mini-science experiment! So... I reach for the 2% milk and what should happen? My coffee soul mate reaches his arm towards the 2% as well! I must have dawdled when removing my lid, or adjusting my coffee sleeve for us to reach this point in coffee-tending in tandem, but as I suspect we were destined to be. I laugh and say "I'm sorry go ahead" and he says the exact same thing! No, not really. Sadly, my kismet story is just about over here... He said, "No, you go ahead." And so, I did, batting my eyelashes the whole time (again, no, not really) and departed on my regular route to work, indulging in those first oh-so-hot sips of coffee! Will I see my coffee soul mate ever again? Who can say, but what I do know is, with mornings filled with such delights it's more than worth that daily $3.19!

Loving Wreaths... Green is Good

Can't get enough Cushion Moss...



It wouldn't be a holiday without Mistletoe...



The way I'd imagine greeneries dream of being arranged...





An unexpectedly gorgeous composition of greenery and gourds...




A classic, thrice over...

Perhaps I am a bit boring, but when it comes to holiday decor I like to keep it simple, classic and relatively free of frill. It always seems my most favorite wreaths are those that strike a balance between creative sophistication and the classicaly natural. Here are a few of my most favorite wreaths, all green and all worth a good dose of envy!

Liking Wreaths... Material Matters

Kelly Wearstler's contemporary leather dip-dyed wreath...



Gumdrop Fruit looking quite pretty...



Why not spray-paint a classic?...



A just sweet enough wreath made of fragrant Bay Laurel...


Not all out-of-the-round (pardon the pun) wreaths are cringe-worthy, some are actually inventive and surprisingly stylish. Kelly Wearstler's gorgeous wreath made from dyed leather is at once a bit DIYourselfy and luxe. These wreaths challenge the traditional and do so quite beautifully if you ask me!

Loathing Wreaths... Kitsch Overload

Snowball Wreath by Martha.... a little too cute for comfort...



A few less stas and flakes and we might have some success...



Oh please no... is that a cross-stitch frame? (don't judge, I googled for that reference)




Supreme for snacking... less so for decorating...



Too tacky to comment...



Cute idea... but that's where it ends...

Good gracious...

With every holiday comes the dangerously fine line of taking that "cute" idea a little too far into the land of Kitsch, a place where the aesthetically savvy feel nauseous with an overload of DIY crafts and sickly sweet allusions. Pardon the sassiness.

Holiday Wreaths Edition....

I may be a little tardy with this post, but as with most things when it comes to me, I am ten minutes late! So with less than two weeks until Christmas Day, I'll share my loves and loathes concerning holiday decor, more specifically holiday wreaths. It's the first thing your friends, family, beloved (and let's face it, most dreaded) holiday guests will see upon entering your undoubtedly fabulously decorated home! A wreath is therefore a bit like a handshake: either firmly confident, or feeble and forgettable. I'll share the wreaths that are utterly loathe-worthy to the indisputably loveable!

Quirkily Fab... Love Alice Neel

Alice Neel, who died in 1984 at the age of 84

Neel in her younger days...

A self-portrait completed in 1970

Neel's famous portrait of Andy Warhol

In the sixth grade I was removed from the mandatory music class at my school due to my ineptitude at mastering the xylophone, a task which apparently was a piece of cake to every other student in the school. Luckily, I was enrolled in a progressive institution, who instead of failing me, simply moved me down the hall to an art course. Although this was mildly embarrassing and a little traumatizing (I don't like xylophones one bit!) it ended up being quite fortuitous as I discovered not only that I wasn't completely devoid of talent (don't get your hopes up, anything was better than my rhythm-less renderings!) but also the work of Alice Neel. After being assigned a research report on an artist of our choosing I went to the library and in the midst of my random searching of shelves, judging books by their covers and all, I stumbled upon Alice Neel. Her portraits were sad, haunting and not conventionally beautiful and because I was in a phase of being a free spirit (I consistently wore green stretch pants, I know but it gets worse, with a rainbow stripe down the side) Neel's anti-Monet-lily-pad-paintings seemed to fit the bill. What I didn't know then was that the artist would remain one of my favorites to this day, and that her interesting life would be one that I can't shake from my memory.

Alice Neel therefore, is certainly fabulous and quirky, if not eccentric. Her life was far from picturesque and despite her fame today, for most of her life Neel was supported on welfare or through the Federal Works Administration, whom she worked for during the Depression. Neel's personal life was tumultuous, she suffered the loss of a child, a miscarriage, a suicide attempt, a divorce and several lovers whose affection she would eventually lose. The only thing that remained constant was Neel's work. Unwavering in her style, Neel boldly worked in a style that was far from "in" and because of this was largely ignored by critics. While her more fiscally successful contemporaries were creating abstract expressionist pieces and later caught up in the pop art craze, Neel continued to produce her realistic portraits, that depict the forgotten souls in society and are often emotionally unnerving. It wasn't until the 1960s that Neel's work garnered success critically, but once she hit the scene she was abundantly successful, easily making friends in the art world and painting the likes of Andy Warhol (notice in Neel's portrait Warhol is stripped of his usual guise, and a vulnerable scarred man is shown). Neel's refusal to live by the world's rules or play by those set by art critics speak volumes about her gumption and definitive artistic values. Certainly someone to celebrate!