Rub-A-Dub-Dub

I once read an interview with 1980's It Girl Dianne Brill, in which she exclaimed "Curvy women look fabulous in rubber."

When I was younger, I used to collect fashion magazines obsessively... I would tear out pages that interested me and keep them in a red suitcase portfolio...

Other girls I knew carried sketches and paintings around in their portfolios...when they'd ask to see what was inside mine, I could see the judgement in their eyes when I flipped the black latch and pages upon pages of makeup and fashion tips came spilling out.

(In hindsight, I should have pretended to be protective of my artwork and leave it at that...I guess I was secretly hoping to meet a kindred spirit.)

One of my favorite tear sheets was a piece from Allure Magazine about rain wear. The layout featured Stephanie Seymour in waterproof eyeliner, wet hair and rubber dresses. Yep, rubber dresses...and there wasn't anything tawdry or Leather Ball about them...they just looked chic as she splashed around NYC soaking wet.

One dress, by Tripp NYC, could have almost passed for Calvin Klein if it hadn't been made of, well, rubber. It was black, short and cut like a long tank top.

I wanted that dress SO badly. Even now, when I'm out in the rain, I secretly wish I had hopped the subway to Trash and Vaudeville and bought the dress. (T&V was incredibly intimidating to my 11-year-old self. Oh, did I not mention that I was 11 at the time? Woops!)

Think about it...

It's a humid summer day...the sky gets very dark and the rain starts coming down in sheets. You throw on your rubber dress and Tretorn rain boots, tuck your cell phone and a $20 into your bra (or waterproof clutch, take your pick) and go outside and splash around like you're 5.

This scenario might be even more fun you're a man...it just passed the Diet Coke spraying out of the nose test, accidentally. You can call it Performance Art.

Bippity Boppity Boo

On Sunday afternoon, I got some sage advice from one of my wise, wise compatriots...

Well, it wasn't so much advice as it was a reminder...

It went something like this:

Whenever I've had one of those fairy-tale moments, like "aaah, I'm suddenly in a princess dress," it's because the dude who just put me in the dress is mentally ill.

Translation: We are in control of our own sartorial destiny...don't wait for the handsome prince or charming cougar to sweep you off your feet and into the Barney's dressing room. Most of the time, that Pretty Woman moment comes at a price.

Of course, if I'm the one shoving you into a dressing room, begging you to try (just try) a dress on, you have no choice but to comply...

If You Asked Me To...

I feel a dull ache inside...

I know what it means.

I've felt it before.

I want it...

You know, it.

No, not that. Get your head out of the gutter. Geez...since when do I talk about sex here? I'm talking about something infinitely more satisfying...something slightly naughty, seriously indulgent and maybe a bit reckless...

I think you know what I'm talking about...

It eludes us. Always...

Those little somethings that you want but just can't justify...yet you know deep down inside that if you screamed "fuck it, I only live once" and plopped the credit card on the counter you'd be infinitely happy...twirling around the living room in heels and days of the week underwear happy.

But strength and patience (especially in the vain hope that it will go on sale) are virtues...and we are all virtuous...right?

Right?

Stay with me here...

But if I, personally, were a retail imp, I'd recklessly charge the following its...

Jimmy Choo Back Zip Heels from BergdorfGoodman.com


Anthracite Clutch Wallet from HaydenHarnett.com


DVF Nueve Ponte Suit from NeimanMarcus.com

Since I've Been Gone...

The little green samsonite that could did its duty.

I've realized I'm a terrible driver. Not a dangerous driver, mind you, just a bad one.

I missed a less than great Jimmy Choo sale.

I've gotten addicted to teenage vampire literature written by a mormon housewife.

I have a serious DVR backlog.

Dear Fieldbinder still has stuff on sale...

Mr. F is currently waiting in line to buy an iPhone.

A Pain in the Air...

My obsession with efficient air travel has been well documented on this blog. But...now that airlines are charging to check luggage and, ahem, measuring carry ons, it's becoming even more of a challenge. Everyone is carrying on their luggage now, so it takes longer to get on and off planes, go through security, etc. (This isn't even counting the interminable delays at NYC airports that seem to be par for the course these days.)

Although my trusty roll aboard is regulation size...it's JUST regulation size...and I'm worried some TSA employee with a bee in their bonnet may give me a hard time. (I'm all about the worst case scenario!)

So now it's time to downsize even further. ..

A Challenge! I like challenges!

A month ago, Anthony and Caricia introduced me to Pack-It cubes...which are essentially soft packs that you put your clothes in and THEN put in your suitcase. Apparently they are the ultimate accessory for packing efficiency.

Perhaps I'll buy one and see if it lives up to the hype.

Pack-It Cubes or not, I'm going to start using my workhorse small green Samsonite roll-aboard. My parents bought me the suitcase in late summer 1998, when I was headed to the UK for my junior year abroad. Though small, it was roomy enough to get me through any situation. All the other girls and guys I knew had large REI/EMS-issue backpacks for their weekend or longer excursions--but not me. A big backpack just isn't my look. Plus, in my opinion, a backpack like that telegraphed "I'm an American student. Mug me!"

For two weeks I traveled around Germany and Italy (looking very Euro-clubby in head-to-toe black, glittery eyeshadow and platform mary janes--trust me, the look worked) with all my possesions in that little green roller and a small black leather backpack. It came with me to a slightly musty youth hostile on the Isle of Wight, to Kathryn and Spud's apartment in Paris, to a 5-star hotel in Brussels and on countless St. Andrews-to-London train rides. It maneuvered easily in train stations and was never too heavy to lift into an overhead compartment.

For the past few years, it's been all-but retired. I did bring it to a yoga retreat a few months back, but that was it.

But now, it's time to shine again. My little green suitcase is going to be at my side every time I board a plane. And if I can't fit everything in it? Well, that's what Fedex is for!

It's Not Easy Being Green

Glennis and Eliza Duet at Planet Rose on July 4, 2007.

When I removed my phone from the windowsill where it was charging this morning, I noticed I had a text message...

I assumed the message was from Mr. F, who has been burning the midnight oil of late.

But I was wrong...it was from Eliza, who's currently enjoying the Los Angeles weather and treating the denizens of La La Land to her comedic stylings.

Sent at 1:15 am, July 9th
From: Eliza Skinner

Chad I and are doing karaoke with Daniel Franco from Seasons 1 & 2 of Project Runway.
And you are just sleeping!

NO FAIR!

Though I've had my fair share of run-ins with PR alums in the past--Malan working the concierge desk at the Hudson Hotel, Kara Janx and Emmett McCarthy helping Jen Mac and I choose outfits at EMC2--a karaoke encounter remains the elusive Holy Grail.

I repeat...NO FAIR!

I'm drinking my Starbucks Venti Non-Fat Latte with an extra shot of jealousy this morning.

Don't I Know You From Somewhere...

Racked.com has been quietly monitoring the progress of Alexis Bittar's new Bleecker Street store. Apparently, it opens today...

My mother and I went to visit the original Alexis Bittar store, on Broome Street, Saturday afternoon. They've been having a sale (30% off half the merchandise in the store) and being serious Bittarphiles, we thought we'd check it out.

As per usual, my mother was greeted heartily by name...."How are you? Did you have a good Fourth of July?" Over the years, both of us have developed a friendly rapport with the AB Store folks. In the past, I have extolled the virtues of ex-AB store manager Monserrat, with her multicolored hair and arms full of lucite... Nadia, the new manager, is sweet and helpful, but not nearly as colorful as the unforgettable Spaniard.

After we left the store (empty handed--this time), my mother and I both remarked on how, though we've never met him, we feel like we've known Mr. Bittar for a long time.

My mother started buying AB's jewelry on the street in pre-gentrification NYC. After that, we pretty much bought The Clay Pot's entire stock of lucite goodness: Every holiday, every birthday, every "I saw this and thought of you day" my mother and I received an AB treasure, tied in the Clay Pot's personalized ribbon. (The only bad thing about my parent's recent kitchen renovation? They got rid of the vintage washbasin full of Clay Pot ribbons from the past 13 years...)

Last winter at the Alexis Bittar sample sale, run by his wholesalers, we ran into Sasha, who we knew when she was the manager of The Clay Pot. She now helps run AB's wholesale business. (If you have never been to an AB sample sale...you are doing yourself a great disservice. It is, without question, the best sample sale in NYC.) I guess it's a family trait...we don't just shop at a store...we invest in it (not in the literal sense, obviously). Maybe that's why I have such disdain for sloppy stores with ineffective sales staff...

I can't tell you how many times Scott, my most favoritest Clay Pot manager ever (now a rock-star gardener to the well-heeled) told us "Oh, you just missed him! I always tell him your family are his best customers."

But it was never meant to be...we never crossed paths with the apparently ubiquitous yet elusive Mr. Bittar.

Too bad. But it doesn't hurt to hope, right?