Today I stayed in bed until noon reading The Bolter and listening to Artie Shaw, then I stepped out and met a friend who gave me a just-made moon rock (the asteroid dust was still drying!). I named her "Stella." I name everything I love. Then on my way home I stopped at Wendy Mink to buy another stacking ring (I bought one last time and people seem to think it's an engagement ring. Now, more like... double trouble). My friend who is a milliner works there and I bought one of her feathered combs, to wear to an upcoming gala I was invited to yesterday. Then I had a little correspondence with everyone's favorite venture capitalist; it was his birthday this week and I stopped by his office with a dozen cupcakes from Magnolia Bakery. I am encouraging him to buy some pretty things, and he is ever so slowly coming around. Perhaps, one never really knows. I have given up trying to figure out other people. I read this book, The Bolter, about Idina Sackville who dressed beautifully and had a little black Pekingese called Satan and was born into great wealth and influence and ran away to Africa and got married five times and I couldn't even keep track of all of her affairs and I loved the book, it was so stylish and glamorous and wonderful but with a steely lesson at its core: don't marry your boyfriends. Tonight I'm going to a party. Should I call ahead and ask that the bathtub be filled with champagne? Or is that something I can do when I get there? I rinsed my hair with some in the shower this morning, actually. There was a bit left in the fridge from the other night and it seemed a shame to waste it.
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Overheard at Maison du Lux Tonight
Lux-y: guess what?
i am going to get a boyfriend,
a cute one,
by april 1.
i set this goal tonight.
you are my witness.
Miss Golden Dynamite: oh yea? nice.
Lux-y: yeah like a dreamboat type: nice, owns his own helicopter.
Miss Golden Dynamite: i like your thinkin'.
Lux-y: if you don't believe me, i'll post it right now...
Miss Golden Dynamite: i believe you!
Lux-y: good, because I don't want to broadcast it yet, the helicopter thing. I don't want to rule out a man with a yacht.
Miss Golden Dynamite: i fucking love you LC.
Be Mine
Best thing I came home to: the care package from my friends at Jurlique! Yum. Sigh, "rosewater" everything, marry me promptly.
Windowlicker
These look so good I don't know what to do: buy them? eat them?
[Vintage, unworn cat's eye glasses frames, $62 at Kokorokoko]
Windowlicker - from the French for window shopping: faire du lèche-vitrine - often appears on Tuesday and Thursdays at 10am EST-ish.
Fistful of Photobooth
Last week at the Ace Hotel, Palm Springs.
Windowlicker
I know I'm supposed to be laying around thinking about fashion, washing my hair with champagne and stuff (and if you catch me in the morning, making coffee in my Chemex and an antique silk kimono, it's not too far off the mark) but all I really wanna do tonight is skip yoga –– I was sadly unable to astrally project myself there via good intentions –– and listen to Jawbreaker and luxuriate in the Monday-ness of my first day back in New York. Heavy and slow and I like what it portends, this new vibe in my life, same old, same old but feeling totally differently about what's going to be in the mix. I may have some thoughts to elucidate on new directions later. But for now, imagine I'm doing it all. In this.
[Antik Batik's Walice Sequined Gown, $970 at Net-a-porter]
Windowlicker - from the French for window shopping: faire du lèche-vitrine - often appears on Tuesday and Thursdays at 10am EST-ish.
Letter From Palm Springs
My last afternoon of vacation and I am writing this on my patio in the shade at the Ace Hotel in Palm Springs, where I've been the last several days. Before that I was in Los Angeles for the weekend. Lots of work and social things, too, and also plenty of long, languorous days by myself, which was the idea. Such a special, charmed week in every way, start to finish, that I wouldn't know where to begin in terms of highlights... the effortlessly perfect Valentine's Day spent chillaxing with my pal Mr. Jules et Jim (stargazing in Malibu!) would have to be one, and, well, this very moment would be another. This week at the Ace has been rejuvenating. The vibe here is exactly my speed: I sleep in, eat right, visit the photobooth in the lobby and hang around the pool, with microcosmic daily variations on those rituals. And it's just my luck that this week is Modernism Week in Palm Springs, so there have been all sorts of things going on around town. I'm lazy, though, so the vintage Airstream show at the hotel today is the only thing I've done. And by "done" I mean walked by on the way to get a grilled cheese. If I had more time, I'd check out the John Lautner show at the Palm Springs Art Museum, but I did go to a party at a Schindler house in LA, so I'm feeling good about my engagement with architecture. Now to drift back in my room and put another record on, and decide if Movie Night & s'mores is the thing to do tonight or something else (although, after my big evening out last night for pâté, filet mignon and Crêpe Suzette –– and the total princess-baby treatment –– at Melvyn's at the Ingleside Inn, where past guests include Greta Garbo, Rita Hayworth and Liz Taylor, "something else" might be bed at nine)...
