Today I had the pleasure of meeting my friend Diane Vadino for a perfect afternoon interlude at Les Enfants Terribles. She is the editor of brand-new travel culture and style magazine, Trunk, as well as a novelist (Smart Girls Like Me–– a McSweeney's veteran and DIY lover of the first-order, she also did a handmade edition of her debut), as well as the voice, and more importantly, keen eye behind fun fash blog, Bunnyshop. She's soon to start a job as an editor at Lucky, and is working on a book about the Gumball Rally (an annual 3,000 mile race). As soon as she gets back from Tahiti.
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Entries from October 2010
My Life in Pictures: Tux Arcana
Dinner with dear friends tonight, at Bacaro. I wore: vintage high-waisted mens' tuxedo pants that I bought in LA for $15 (the second or third time I've been seen in pants since 1998), an Ungaro silk top from a thrift store in St. Michael's, Maryland, some Portuguese art deco shoes that everyone loves while I seldom think about them anymore, and my blonde fur, from the same place as the top and extravagantly relined by hand in bubblegum pink brocade during my stint as an advisor to Very Short List. And my lipstick, that old favorite: Wong Kar-wai red. As I said earlier this evening: Ah yes, the essentials of life: air, water, bread and a beautiful mouth. We feasted on much more than that, though.
Windowlicker
I try to tell myself that I don't need these. I do.
[Perfex Pepper & Salt Mills, $80 each at Sur La Table]
Windowlicker - from the French for window shopping: faire du lèche-vitrine - often appears on Tuesday and Thursdays at 10am EST-ish.
Windowlicker
Stars are my favorite thing. Sainte-Chapelle is my favorite place, the medieval chapel in Paris, for the star-covered ceiling. My favorite shoes, a gift from a keen observer, are Yves Saint Laurent "Star" heels. I take any chance I can to get out in the dark country or desert and gaze at them. I book night flights if possible and press my face against the glass. So goes the Serbian proverb: Be humble for you are made of earth. Be noble for you are made of stars.
[Highlight Stars Ring, price upon request at H. Stern]
Windowlicker - from the French for window shopping: faire du lèche-vitrine - often appears on Tuesday and Thursdays at 10am EST-ish.
The Secret Life of New York
When I left my last office job, two years into my now nine-year stretch of living in Manhattan, I was stunned to discover that, believe what you may about who runs the city, New York belongs to those who go where they wish during the day. I am never more reminded of this than every other Monday, when my housekeeper's arrival sends me out into the streets for the afternoon. On Saturday, I managed to drop the most expensive thing for sale at Hester Street Fair, and found myself quite unexpectedly in possession of an exquisite antique watch fit for a movie star. You know the part in Baby Face where she's going down to the ship, after she tells her husband she wishes she could help him out of his jam with her money, but, gee, she needs it... well, if she had stopped to look at the time, I dare say she'd have been wearing something very much like mine. The repair should be easy (One hopes! It, of course, was no sooner home than flung on the floor again by an erstwhile guest) and I walked across town to a shop that sounded promising in the old-fashioned way that I prefer, so much so that they are closed on Mondays. So the only repair happening today was the sensible solution that I might repair across the street to Tea & Sympathy, a place I'd longed to visit but have never been less than flying through the days hell-bent on, I don't know what. Whatever it was, I don't feel like it anymore. Above, tea for one. Like the fool that I was born to be, I started at the bottom instead of the top. And a fine fool I was.
En Famille
Making a pot of Julia Child's Catalan stew with beef, tomatoes and rice seemed like the thing to do today, and as it was bubbling away, opera lilting on the breeze, I thought to text my siblings and see if they were hungry. My younger brother came over, on his way to watch a fight. I was delighted to provide the civilized portion of the evening. The funniest part was when we sat down. My apartment is very me, naturally: antiques from my parents, chandeliers, art-covered walls; petite, private, and far from the bustle of the outside world. Now he will always be a baby to me, but in reality, he's a great big hulking thing. No sooner had he sat, the chair teetered, the table shook from side-to-side (with things flying off, every which way), everything seemed imperiled. It was all arighted and we had a nice laugh, and an even lovelier meal: the afore-mentioned, plus a salad of arugula, celery, apple and hazelnuts, and Tahitian vanilla gelato with green tea for dessert.
Previously: Bros.
Luxloves: Native(X)
Today I was dashing out for a meeting and, I kid you not, was just about to walk out when I thought, oh, I really wish I'd worn a scarf, but it wasn't worth going back upstairs. I checked the mail instead and what did I find? A package with two gorgeous jacquard Pendleton wool scarves sent to me by boy wonder Mac Bishop and his indie fash brand, Native(X)! I switched them halfway through my meeting and everyone forgot what else we were talking about, and we just modeled scarves for awhile.
This style is the more preppy one. Native(X) is based at Cornell, where Mac is a student, and it reminded me of that leafy, slightly sleepy Ivy League vibe, kind of Take Ivy meets Love Story.
This is the second style, which is much longer and skinnier. It is much more LA ingenue running out for coffee. Which I also love.
The best part is that they are $25 and $35, respectively! J'adore.
DIRTY BABY DOES NEW YORK
Tonight David Breskin, whose new art (and sounds, and poems) book, with Ed Ruscha and Nels Cline (of Wilco), Dirty Baby, I am publicizing, had an event at Gagosian Shop. It, like him, and his work, was sublime. Here's a full report for you vicarious lovers:
Here I am in the cab, wearing Kostas Murkudis, Marni, Ann Demeulemeester, Sally Cohen Vintage, and a few other things. Thoughts on getting dressed: Well, of course the gloves were going to fit over my rings-- they're Italian. Some things should never be doubted.
First I went to the Gregory Crewdson show at Gagosian, an exhibition of photographs of romantic decay amid the once-famed, now largely abandoned, Cinecittà film backlots in Rome. An intriguing analogue to his usual hyper-stylized motifs. Then I had some time to kill and decided to stroll the neighborhood a little. My happiness was both profound and complete when, a few storefronts up, I found myself in front of Sant Ambroeus. I sat at the bar and enjoyed an espresso and a caprese salad, and was delighted when the waiter told me to "have a beautiful night." It was so emphatic I took it as fortuitous.
I walked back to Gagosian Shop and was first on the scene, per usual. Soon after David showed up in Commes des Garcons. I looked around for a while at things for sale, like this:
And this:
They also sell art, and books, and Jeff Koons dog vases, and fashion magazines in a back room, where I hung out for a while, poring over Love and Self Service, which asks the best questions:
Then David read a few poems and discussed their relationship to the art in the book, as well as contemporary politics. They are based on an ancient Arabic form called the ghazal. My favorite poem of all time is a ghazal, actually. They have a particularly beautiful cadence. He also signed books and talked to his famous artist friends, like Joel Sternfeld and other people whose names I didn't catch. One of his friends won the PEN/Faulkner for The Bear Comes Home, about a bear that plays the saxophone, and everyone talked about smart things like the provenance of the phrase "writing about music is like dancing about architecture," and Roland Barthes' essay "The Writer on Vacation." About how, actually, the writer is never on vacation. David signed books for people who asked things like, can I get this shipped to Japan?
It was a very different event than the one in Los Angeles last week at LACMA that drew 600 people, more of an Upper East Side scale. Ed and Nels couldn't be there tonight, but then I took this picture of Ed talking on the phone in a book about the 1960s LA avant-garde FERUS gallery and that made me happy. I sent it to my friend Jen Bekman with the subject "I just called to say..." and the message: "I love you xo from Gagosian" which is the best email I ever sent. I also thought about how I had seen some of these paintings in Stockholm this summer, and isn't life wild?
Then I heard my second-favorite line of the night: "Are you [redacted]'s wife?" "No, actually I'm his archivist."
My favorite line was when I was walking out and someone stopped me to ask if he's seen me in a movie. A beautiful night.