view from the second floor

I see London, I see France

2012-01-04T19:11:00.004-05:00

Good is sticking with your New Year's goal (resolutions are so over) to go to yoga every. single. day. Not good is sticking to your New Year's goal and going to yoga wearing your most favorite (equally new) Stella McCartney high-waisted panties. Before I totally alienate all 7 male readers, these are 'granny panties' only on sight unseen. In truth they are the epitome of lingerie chic; gorgeous and leopard print. They are not, however, ideal for an intense hour and a half yoga class where one attempts numerous inversions only to come crashing out of one upon realizing there is more leopard than Lululemon showing. Center shaken, church laugh happened, maybe I swore. I definitely swore off any skivvies that may have been fashionably appropriate during 'Mad Men.'

Whatever.

Well, that happened.

2012-01-03T15:19:00.004-05:00

Pulled out the old puffy coat for the first time this season. As it's not my most figure flattering outerwear, I attempted to counterbalance its bulk with wool tights and a pair of heels that I wouldn't want to chuck out the window after walking 15 blocks to the office. (Long blocks; avenue blocks.) It is here that I should thank my true friend Jennifer for convincing me not to get the ankle-length down coat my cold weather-averse Mother suggested. I believe her exact words were, "Do you want to look like a sleeping bag?" Point made. I'm not totally convinced today's puffy/slim combo was successful as I was 1) Sweating like a whore in church (Thanks Dad for that gem) when I arrived at le office and 2) Still wanted to send my Sigerson Morrison booties out the window. But there's Bon Iver on my iTunes (can't deal with Spotify's commercials + connectivity) and leftover collards in my lunch bag. So, the [immediate] future is pretty bright.

Happy New Year y'all.

For auld lang syne, my dear

2011-12-31T09:30:00.002-05:00

It's no big secret that on the last day of the year you practically wake up in reflection. What was done, what was seen, what was felt over last year. Remember this... I'll never forget that.... It's human to at least glance back as we go forward. And there's nothing quite as 'forward' as the turn of a new calendar year.

I've always loved New Year's Eve. Less for the 'pomp and circumstance' and more for the 'tabula rosa.' It's another year - a new year - to experience the things we want, try the things we've always thought about, make goals and cross them off our lists. It's a new beginning. And what holds more promise?

When I moved to New York I began naming each year. 2010 was The Year of Anticipation. I wanted to be open, ready for what may cross my path - and excited. I was in a new city, new home, new lifestyle - anticipating what was to come. 2011 was The Year of The Real Thing. I set out expecting to find it in one place (and maybe did for a New York minute), but just as that year slides into the past, I know what the 'real thing' was for me this last year, and that I'll always have it. That's the thing about the 'real thing' it hits you just when, and maybe where, you least expect it.

The countdown's begun, 2012 is hours away. I'll be with my urban family, in the heart of my city, celebrating in style. Waiting to turn, fully, towards 2012 and all that the year will be.

Bonne anneé!

Happy Christmas, y'all

2011-12-20T18:35:00.002-05:00

'Tis the MOST wonderful time of the year.....

Christmas in the city is grand, but I'm heading home, South to NC. Gonna spend Christmas in Dixie.

Two.

2011-10-04T10:19:00.005-04:00

Today marks my two-year anniversary in New York. Let me just let that sink in for a minute. (For me, not you.)

It's not that I ever doubted this day would arrive. In fact, I'm more than sure there will be a three, a five and maybe even a 13-year anniversary. It's just that with each significant date, I'm the sort of gal that sits back and reflects. And today I'm doing that to a few songs and artists that have always reminded me of New York - my city, my home.

New York was in my heart long before I was in its streets. I'm not sure why, but it's a love affair that bloomed and endured over the years, the moves, the job, the heartaches, the successes and just about everything else that came my way. And like the really good love, it never wanes. So, even though these last two years haven't been a total fairytale, my love for New York is real and here to stay.

What I know now is that the city changes, and you better change with it. Fourteen months in is vastly different than nine (the approximate time I was considering packing my bags), your luck can change - maybe even by day's end - and sometimes the energy of the city is all you need. I've also come to find that New York can be a very small place. (It's true, trust me.) And that more often than not the city gives you what you need, but you have to work to get what you really want. And there's a beauty in that. And the hardest part is. . . is there a "hardest part?" Maybe it's knowing there is so much out there - so much to New York. How to feel it all?

I guess only time, and the years to come, will tell.

And to New York, borrowed from another North Carolinian-turn-New Yorker: "The world won't wait, so I better shake that thing right out there through the door, hell I still love you, New York. ~ Ryan Adams

View from my East Village rooftop.

We are always running for the thrill of it.

2011-08-23T16:55:00.005-04:00

I've been dreading this countdown.

Saturday (as in four days) I'll make the second - no, third - most significant move of my life (to date). I'm saying so long to my gorgeous roommate, one of my dearest friends and probably my closest confidant, Jackson Hodges. And. It. Might. Kill. Me. (He will for sure be racked with grief, I'll tell you that much for free.)

We've been friends for ages, but live-in besties for the last two years and life may have never been better. From the scary-exciting move to 168 Henry and starting work, making friends - making our way - to "Jack Special," Clandestino stop-ins, Octomom light fixtures and discovering our 'hood, we made the Jewel Box (JB, if you know) home. While it will always be my (and Jackson's) first home in NYC, it won't be our last. And Saturday, I'll make my way on to the next with a heavy heart, a pretty packed moving truck, a mind full of memories and anticipation for what's to come.

So, here's to the last 24 months with jmh. (Who never once wavered, left my side or failed to make me at least crack a smile.) My MAJORLY edited Top 5.

5. BBMK. (Covers a multitude of, well, sins.)

4. Confusing people on the streets with our coupledom.

3. Cast-iron skillet cover-up. (A recent but poignant add.)

2. Single-handedly gentrifying the street even WITHOUT a sapling.

1. Sunday cuddlefests with Stop One runs, Sunday gravy and robes.

And here's to unconditional love. (That's also JMH.)

Moving day, October 4, 2009

Yeah, that happened.

2011-05-13T17:54:00.004-04:00

MoMA and Kanye would have been just fine. But add Jay-Z into the mix and. mind. blown. Just another New York Night I suppose.

Or was it?

MoMA Garden Party, May 10, 2011

A little bit of old home in my new home.

2011-04-20T10:49:00.002-04:00

You know those moments that stop you in your tracks? I'm talking about when you feel someone miiiight get you? Like, get. you.

Had one the other night when I was gifted the video below of The Rosebuds, Raleigh's indie darlings, singing my very favorite song. That could have been all it was, and that would have been more than fine. But wait for it. This video was shot in my neighborhood - in New York - and features a rare, raw, acoustic version of Blue Bird. And. It. Slays. Me. So now "more than fine" becomes "amazing," and the video moves to my daily to watch list.

Because I love layers - in life and fashion - there's more. I'm homesick. For Carolina. So this video of friends from my old home performing in my new home, well it hit home. And just when I needed it.

The Rosebuds - Bluebird from La Blogotheque on Vimeo.

To, from

2011-04-15T12:33:00.002-04:00

Dear Spring,

Thanks for showing up.

Love,

New York City

(Well, sort of.)

One of those nights.

2011-04-14T15:54:00.007-04:00

There are New York nights. Then there are New York Nights.

Last night was one of those Nights.

How could it not be when it begins at The Modern (err, my "local") and ends at Blue Ribbon, with TV On the Radio at Radio City Music Hall thrown in the middle for good measure? Good drinks, great food and even better music in one of New York's storied landmarks.

Walking into Radio City you can't help but feel as if you're walking back in time, to a grander era. But when TVOTR exploded on stage, you were right there in the present; immersed in a New York Night.

Radio City 4/13/11, photo courtesy of Brooklyn Vegan.

Spring in my city, my step

2011-03-29T17:30:00.005-04:00

Sometimes, when I weather through something - a proverbial "storm," if you will - I remark (yeah, out loud), that I "made it through." Could be the night, day, cold, heat, lunch, conference call. . . whatever. The point being I came out on the other side. Finally. Saying it out loud is all that more affirming. Reassuring, even.

As March winds it's way out of my life (thankyouverymuch), I can resolutely say, "I made it through" the winter. And does it feel good to come out on the other side. The side of spring and new beginnings and the promise of pretty much everything.

Hailing from the South, I'm not sure I ever fully appreciated the change of seasons. To be honest, I'm not sure I ever experienced them. I have now. And I'm better for it. I've now weathered a winter - a couple of them actually. And I made it through. We all did, I suppose.

I started the winter - or ended the summer more accurately - with Florence's Dog Days Are Over. Let's say it more than got me through those harsh days. Now there's spring in my step (and my city) and my ears are tuned to The Black Keys' Everlasting Light as they promise, "The dark days are through." Are they ever.

Paris, October 2010

You know you're overdue when. . .

2010-10-14T16:24:00.002-04:00

You begin to type in your blog address and it doesn't automatically come up in the tool bar. Reminder to write more. Just open that vein and write.

And I will.

Soon.

A look, a smile, your daily cup of coffee.

2010-06-02T08:44:00.008-04:00

I have learned that living in New York City you find "intimacy" in some of the oddest places. Take my relationship with my coffee man as an example. Of course he knows how I take my cup, but he also misses me when I'm not there and thinks "I'm magic." His words, not mine. He was also quite stunned to see me walk in one night rather than morning, hinting that he knows my routine. Bet he would report me missing if I went an extra-long stretch before returning.

The city is a veritable playground of missed connections (just look online) - people in cabs, sharing a platform, queuing up to gain entrance to a bar, even trains passing on separate tracks. And to think who you meet-or don't meet-could also be influenced by your neighborhood. . . It's enough to send the cosmos reeling.

So intimacy - or closeness - both in proximity and that feeling you get when a spark transmits pops up in surprising and unexpected places, yes. I'm not saying it's between me and coffee man, but I am saying it exists.

I will not. . .

2010-04-27T17:46:00.004-04:00

Remember the threat of writing a sentence over and over on the blackboard? Yeah, me either. Too young perhaps. I do enjoy the retro charm of that image and that punishment. However, I prefer to think of it as a reminder - one that could even be positive.

Here's what I would be writing to remind myself today.

Sick for the big sun.

2010-03-26T09:49:00.005-04:00

Another gray day. Another gray view. Phoenix on repeat, occasionally mixed with Hot Chip or Passion Pit, or whatever keeps me moving. Dare I say, my day would be infinitely better with these beauties (Alexander Wang Freja boot) on my feet?

Well, these and a few other things.

Family first + firsts.

2010-03-15T08:20:00.003-04:00

This is a shout out to my lil bro - E. I met him long before I fathomed he would become my brother-in-law, though I like to think (and maybe did think) I knew he would immediately. When I recalled meeting him later that day/week to my sister it went like this, "I met a guy you need to date. Like now." The next year was pretty much filled with chance - or "arranged" - meetings and more convincing. Then it happened. They met, dated, fell in love, married and I have a brother - a family first.

You see, having a sister is without a doubt the greatest gift my parents ever gave me. Having a brother (via marriage) is one of the greatest gifts my sister gave me. I like to think it's mainly because it's E and he's pretty much fantastic. Eschewing the typical "sister/brother-in-law" relationship, E and I are family, and friends. We look out for each other, check in on each other, update each other and share with each other. On top of all of that, E makes these playlists called "Big Sis" and then he numbers or dates them. When I visited my favorite two in Boston last weekend, I, of course, left with a playlist of amazing new tunes courtesy of lil bro. (It is necessary to note that playlist has pretty much been ALL I've listened to since my trip.) I caught a glimpse of his library, full of playlists and saw the several dedicated to just me. Family first, that's E. And that's me.

From my latest Big Sis list: "Mallory" by Tigercity, "I Feel Better" by Hot Chip, "Something, Somewhere, Sometime" by Ben Solle.

Let Love rule.

2010-02-12T17:14:00.006-05:00

I used to think I was so cool sketching the title of Lenny Kravitz's debut album all over my composition (yeah, I said it) book. I'm certain I didn't own the album at that time, but saw it on some older, cooler kid's notebook (ahem, 8th grade crush). Nonetheless, I was totally taken with those three words.

Then Lenny's lines began to take a different, more powerful shape for me. "Let love rule" - at once a suggestion and a command. Or maybe a gentle reminder. Let, love, rule.

In honor of Valentine's (the very word is beautiful to me), I'm raising a glass for Love. Here's to the most sought-after, abused, welcomed, shunned, perfect, imperfect, forgiving thing out there. Here's to Love sticking around. Here's to Love spreading. Here's to Love ruling.

Thanks Lenny.

It still exists.

2010-01-21T11:11:00.004-05:00

Making the most of an early-morning calendar mess-up, I traveled into the East Village for breakfast. Stopping at B&H, a kosher diner with a quaint counter, I had two eggs over medium, their special home fries, homemade challah (back) bread, coffee and the cutest, tiniest cup of Orange Juice. Delicious. And even better for $4.25. So, it still exists.

Afterwards I stopped into the UPS Store to ship a package. The box I purchased cost $5.80. Maybe it was my 1950-priced breakfast, but I had a little sticker shock. Never fear, I'm back in the New York City of 2010 with its Food + Sex erotic readings satiating guests with Crif Dogs (might be worth going for one), Yoga in Central Park and yes, $20 glasses of bubbly. And I wouldn't have it any other way.

I. Am. In. Love.

2010-01-15T08:09:00.005-05:00

Schweppes Soda Water just got a whole lot more chic. All of their sodas did, but the glamorous redhead is my favorite. Where-o-where can I find one of these beauties that I will smuggle out in my bag (after I pay, of course) and reuse as a vase?

Schweppes Limited Edition Beverages designed by DeDonato.

Mmmm. . .

2010-01-14T15:12:00.002-05:00

It's not necessarily a bad thing, but I can buy a fifth of Bourbon (though not Basil Hayden) before I can buy a stamp. Any day of the week. Seven days a week, in fact. Thank you New York. Who shouldn't enjoy a pull on the way to the Post Office?

Not that I have.

Baby it's cold outside.

2009-12-18T09:52:00.004-05:00

So I now know what 17 degrees feels like. Another discovery of note: Tights fit under leggings, which then fit under jeans. Maybe not the best look my J. Brand's have offered, but I'm warm. In the spirit of staying on the plus side of freezing, I'd like to send a huge thank you to my sister, who actually lugged an ushanka all the way back to the United States FROM RUSSIA for me. That thing, which is both impossibly glamorous and warm, has never worked so hard. It's winter's work is hardly over, and that's worth mentioning.

Now, off to visit my coffee man who has yet to forget me despite one week of Theraflu, apartment-made press pots and a morning coffee uptown. Nonplussed, he set my coffee with cream down on the counter with a smile. Life is good.

I'll be home for Christmas.

2009-12-09T10:14:00.007-05:00

Today during the morning rush that is 7:45 - 8:30 at 168 Henry, Jack and I readied ourselves for the day with a medley of Christmas tunes."Let it snow," "Wonderful Christmastime" and "Happy Xmas (The war is over)" were some of the few we heard courtesy of Jack's clock radio. He remarked that because of now living in New York the meanings of some of these songs have changed for him - for us. While he spoke of the fact that we are more likely to get snow - in fact we're slated for some precipitation this weekend - I began to think about how these songs I know by heart and sing in my heart each year might mean something different - something more to me this year.

"I'll Be Home For Christmas." That never was a question for me. In all my 30 (almost 31 + yes, I still have many (half) of my list to check off) years was I expected or expecting to be anywhere else but North Carolina. That is still very much the case, but an almost-$400 plane ticket has a way of giving pause. At the same time, the very minute I purchased that ticket (Merry Christmas to the fam, by the way) I had the biggest (to date) surge of homesickness wanting to be there in my parents house, in the kitchen laughing and cooking immediately.

When I was a little girl, I remember being seized with panic that one day I wouldn't get to come home for Christmas after hearing this song. Why, "if only in my dreams" I asked my Mother. She quickly assured by I could ALWAYS come home for Christmas. She then set about showing me, and my sister that "home" is truly where the heart is, where the love is and wherever family is. More than a framed piece of art that hung on our kitchen wall for years, my Mother made that idiom a way of life.

So, "Christmas Eve will find me, where the lovelight gleams." And on my first return visit to my childhood home since moving to my newest adult home. And. I. Can't. Wait.

A portrait of how Christmas looks in my mind, and in my heart.

Grandma + Papa, December 24th, 1963. Their 25th wedding anniversary. (My sister would be born 19 years later.)

When Coco Chanel + Jay-Z come together.

2009-11-30T09:00:00.004-05:00

I went to Paris last week. Paris Theatre, that is. My friend (and urban family member) Jen and I went to see "Coco Before Chanel", something we've had on the calendar since we arrived in New York. It. Was. Amazing. I have to admit, I'm STILL moved by her inspiring and intriguing life. Her will to move forward (as progress does) and her fierce sense of self and self-determination. And am in total (renewed) awe of her simple, elegant style marked by confidence.

After our film, which was celebrated by champagne POPS, we stopped into the Plaza Hotel for a cocktail. Being in Midtown, we decided to make it a "classic" New York night. Entering the hotel, is like walking back in time to a more gilded, gorgeous era and I was struck by the beauty of its grand interior.

Warmed by a delicious Manhattan and good conversation I headed to the train; iPod in and on shuffle. That's when Jay-Z's "Empire State of Mind" filled my ears. "Concrete jungle, where dreams are made of. . ." Maybe only Sinatra could have said it better, but I think in 2009, Jay-Z nailed it. For Coco it was Paris. That's where she always longed to be, where she felt called to, where her dream would come true. For me, it is (and always was) New York. For the energy, the excitement, the reinvention. For the dream.

There's nothing you can't do, now you're in New York.

These streets will make you feel brand new, Big lights will inspire you.

The Commuter train.

2009-11-20T14:00:00.004-05:00

Since I work out of my very large (even by outside-NY standards) apartment, I don't often - as in never - take the train to work. In the spirit of trying something new, I took the uptown 6 with my roommate (and talented architect) jmh this morning. We got off at 68th + Lex, got coffee from a cart and he walked into his office. I walked down Madison, then crossed over to Fifth, picked up "Mrs. Dalloway" (I know, it's a shame I've just now cracked it open, but her "life epiphanies" are quite juicy and relevant at this time to me) at The Strand kiosk and sat in Central Park (on a bench) reading.

It's certainly Fall in New York, and every tree that wasn't yet bare had brilliantly colored leaves. It was cool, brisk even and there are holiday lights and decorations being thoughtfully hung. Next week brings Thanksgiving - my first in the city. I look forward to sharing a table with new friends, and with old. I look forward to giving thanks for many, many things. The morning commute being one of them.

Dinner with a friend.

2009-11-11T10:46:00.004-05:00

Last night took me to Williamsburg for dinner with my dear friend rob! (The exclamation is his signature, and there couldn't be a better-suited description of his ever-cheerful disposition.) Amid the wine and "seafood bonanza" (rob!'s words), there was great conversation and laughter. It was how I had always imagined "dinner in the city with friends." We talked about work - successes and challenges - weekend plans, recaps, "have you been to _____ yet?" and the like. It was intimate and low-key.

You see, in New York visiting someone's apartment is kind of a big deal. They're so small and so packed that often it can be more of a frustration than fun. Not the case last night. Just when I thought the evening couldn't get any better, rob! walked me to the end of his block (N. 8th St) and showed me the most spectacular (cross-river) view of Manhattan that stretched from the East Village to the mid-50's. It took my breath away. We admired that view for 20 or 30 minutes.

Then I walked to the train and returned to my place in the view.

Fall in New York.

2009-11-05T18:24:00.002-05:00

This one's for GS.

Small victory

2009-11-03T18:18:00.005-05:00

The world - or at least my neighborhood - is getting smaller.

Today, as I stepped up to order my small coffee with only cream, the gentleman behind the counter had it ready for me. He nodded with a smile. I smiled so hard my face nearly cracked. I love my neighborhood.

Some delicious inspiration from my afternoon walk. Treats from the Kosher Pastry Shop up the street.

In the future, fashion will be ___________.

2009-10-22T12:39:00.005-04:00

It's no secret I'm enamored with Ashley Olsen. Though I can see this is a recent development in affection. I am not one of her "loved you since Full House" fans. My admiration stems mainly from her sartorial influence, her unabashed love for fashion, inherent personal style and just how damn cool I imagine her to be.

Last night I went to hear her and a panel that included Robin Givhan and Isaac Mizrahi, moderated by Cindi Leive Editor-in-Chief of Glamour, speak about The Future of Women's Fashion at 92nd Street Y. What an interesting, insightful evening made entertaining by a lively, fashion-centric panel. Hats off to Robin Givhan who with her witty responses stole the show. Perhaps the biggest surprise to me was Cindi Leive - the person I knew least about. "Knew" being a figurative term and concerning only things I have read in the media or opinions formed by collections, taste, etc. Cindi was clever and captivating and dressed in killer Louboutins. She epitomized everything a magazine editor (in-chief, that is) should be with a dash of approachability that was welcome.

Ashley Olsen, who second to only subject matter (and a close second it was) was the reason I got tickets, did not disappoint. Her dress (a production sample from The Row) was effortlessly chic and her. Shoes. Were. Fabulous.

On top of her outfit, her answers and commentary on fashion, her process and the road she's traveled were thoughtful and earnest and many resonated with me for personal reasons. She spoke about now being a great time for new creatives and entrepreneurs to go after their passion and dream. Couldn't we all stand a dose of optimism in the form of "go out and chase af

ter your dream"? She spoke about her boutique, deliberate process at The Row and her desire to keep it small and manageable. Refreshing! A designer (and a sought-after one) doesn't want to exponentially expand?

Ashley also cited her sister as her "no. 1 team." Ashley, the same goes with me. In life and now in work, my sister is my no. 1 team.

Thanks to 92Y for producing such an inspiring and informative event. Thanks to Cindi for rocking those sky-high stilettos and acting every inch the fashion magazine type. And thanks to a diverse and sartorially-brilliant panel.

In the future, fashion will be fashion and that's "exciting," "democratic" and uplifting.

Photo courtesy of Glamour.com

To the city I love.

2009-10-16T19:39:00.004-04:00

Every Moment. . . Love Begins

Here begins my live-in love affair with New York.

Same floor number; new view

2009-10-14T14:33:00.007-04:00

I did it. I made the move to THE city. As in New York, NY. And I love it. To the many, many tomes singing the praises (both big and small) of this city, I humbly add my Love List while enjoying the view from the second floor.

1. After each outing you return home a little more fabulous.

2. There is something new - literally - around each corner.

3. Because you don't know "neighborhood" until you live in one in NYC.

4. $.75 corner coffee from the same gentleman each morning. Yes to cream, no (still) to sugar.

5. Horns honking.

6. The sunset against skyscrapers.

7. A proper newsstand where VOGUE UK arrives on time.

8. Purchasing The New Yorker - in New York.

9. Delivery.

10. Your first victory on the subway. "No Uptown 6 here? Fine, I can still get there."

11. Prix Fixe lunches with friends in SoHo.

12. Walking, everywhere.

13. "Can I send a messenger for that."

14. Most smells.

15. It happens here first.

16. Things like jewelry shops with Banh Mi stands and dumpling walk-up windows exist here along side haute cuisine.

17. Yellow cabs.

18. The NFT guide.

19. Chrysler Building.

20. The rhyme and reason behind the Empire State Building's color scheme.

21. Emerging from the subway into the brisk night.

22. Feeling home in the city.

23. We'll see tomorrow. . .

There's one line in a Tift Merritt song that I really love

2009-09-05T21:29:00.005-04:00

"When you can light up a stranger just passing by,
Start revolutions with the glint in your eye,
Sing Hallelujah with a breath or a sigh
And still know the way home.

I know what I’m looking for now. I know what I’m looking for now."

Wow. That stops me in my tracks. And I could even say a sob catches in my throat each time I hear that stanza. I, of course, attempt to keep on singing (I'm one of those head-back-eyes-closed singers) and barely recognize the sound that escapes me.

Here's what I have to say about those words: Thank you Tift. This song, those words, are an anthem to me. They're at the very least words to live by, words that bring me back, bring me there, bring me home. So, thank you.

To the mirror: I know what I'm looking for now.

Weather-appropriate dress is chic.

2009-07-13T12:08:00.004-04:00

The opposite, however, is not. The first sign of precipitation usually results in my building an outfit surrounding my green wellies (or the platinum or Pucci styles if I'm feeling bold). This morning between tea and Twitter, I must have overlooked - i.e. ignored - the weather forecast, which, by the way, was cloudy and 90% rain. Off to the office in my MJ silk tiered dress from Spring 2005 (you never forsake your first designer purchases no matter how long ago they hit the racks) and gladiators. Enter the office soaked (will silk dry properly?) and nearly-shoeless (Thank the good Lord - and thoughtful shoe designers - for ankle straps.).

Thankful for the friends that will pick you up, take you home, let you re-dress, take you back to the office, and wish you a good day.

Right as, well, rain in my menswear-inspired ensemble part deux.

My sister still brakes for butterflies.

2009-06-22T17:11:00.003-04:00

This one's for K. Beale. She knows about butterflies and metamorphosis and spreading your wings and flying. She knows about sugar and how a warm bakery can cure what ails you. She knows about change.

Listening to: Rise up with fists, Jenny Lewis and the Watson Twins.

Image from Heaven on Main Bakery.

The view today.

2009-06-16T08:49:00.007-04:00

It's raining. No - its pouring today. The kind of sideways rain (and wind) that makes mobility especially tricky. Adding an umbrella to my usual collection of carried items (phone, coffee, iPod, handbag, lunch bag) makes for a well-rehearsed juggling act. But I love the rain; I love its smell and the coziness it instantly brings.

Today the view from the second floor is cloudy - and not just because of the rain. This view that I've looked out and over on for three and half years might be changing. I might be leaving this office. (I use the word 'might' because it's still too difficult to proclaim 'am.') So today - through the rain - I want to remember this view.

There's the Wachovia "skyscraper" across the street and just behind my tiny Chrysler Building souvenir. (I used to think I needed New York to enjoy Raleigh. I know that's not true now.) Its ever-revolving door deposits people - businessmen and women, bank customers, wedding goers, even the occasional "character" - on Hargett Street in eye shot of my office. I've watched the window cleaners countless times, seen police rush to the scene, and even watched with awe as the new Wachovia sign was lifted to the top of the building.

If I lean towards the window, I can see the Historic Masonic Temple building on the corner and gaze up to its rooftop, which offers one of the best views in Raleigh. I've only been up there once, but will remember the fireworks in the distance as the Tres Chicas began to play forever.

If I look West I can see a pizza shop, law offices and a church in the distance.

I've watched cars come and go as I worked through writer's block. I've waved at friends walking down the street or called out to those driving past on a summer's day. I've stuck my hand out the window to touch snow and feel rain. I once saw a tent blow down Hargett Street, and have the picture to prove it. I've taken notice of many outfits - good and bad - of those passing down the corridor on the way to lunch or after-work drinks. I was here when Fayetteville Street was a mall and Hargett Street was one-way. I witnessed that change. I eagerly awaited for the Raleigh Times to open and I mourned its inevitable change.

Before I moved into my apartment, I spent more time in this office than necessary - I even referred to it as my "apartment in the city." It was my oasis, and I created the exact space I desired. If I was out for the night, I usually popped into the office for a split of champagne from the midge fridge and to reapply lip gloss. I checked email constantly.

It is the home of the "gpr Hot List." If I had to guess, I would say upwards of 200 playlists had been created in the gpr office, most shared with clients, friends, significant others, but many kept just for me.

I snuck two live Frasier Firs into this office for Christmas in 2006 and 2007, and showcased a brilliant red tree in 2008.

When I first took the space in 2005, the walls were white and the carpet was green. My intern, sjc, who would later become my first employee, and I painted one wall Cut Ruby from the floor to the ceiling including outlets, the chair rail and the trim. We painted that wall while listening to The Magic Numbers, Kanye West, Ashanti, Death Cab for Cutie and Interpol. The gpr red (as we've rebranded it) still brings me joy like no other colored wall does. The only thing on that brilliant wall is the george logo painted in white. It greets you upon entering the office.

I've seen 15 season changes from this seat. I love how the streets, buildings, people look in all of them. I moved here with one computer, am working from my second while awaiting the arrival of my third.

When my sister moved to Boston, the office was the only spot that didn't feel empty. I've rejoiced in good news and weathered through bad news while seated at this white laminate desk.

This has been a home to me. It helped craft my identity, give george public relations a "place" in the business world and prompted me to take part in Raleigh and its downtown reinvention. Which brings me to that word: Reinvention. Suite 200 did just that for me. Behind that solid wood door, was more than just pristine white carpet, a bold red wall, dozens of Paddywax candles, Daisy P cards, Designroom Group luxury ducks and Bella lip glosses. Behind that door was me. My words. My thoughts. My work. My successes. My defeats. My lessons. My contacts. My lists. My fears. My joys. My laughter. My goals. Me.

This view may change, but will always remain in me.

A VOGUE moment, or sixty.

2009-06-11T12:43:00.005-04:00

VOGUE is back. Back in my mailbox. Back in my life. Back on top, as far as I'm concerned.

After a brief hiatus from my monthly magazine stack - ahem, must have been an accounting oversight - VOGUE has made a re-entry and with it become an object of my affection. I've always been a fan, if only for its obvious industry influence, appeal and storied status and lore. I've been on the 12th floor at Conde Nast, seen the glass doors behind which a cadre of uber-fashionable tastemakers live, work, breathe and cower. Also behind which are covetable clothing, accessories and, well, lifestyles. I'm not one to discount VOGUE's reach or power, or their ability to put together an amazing lookbook of style. But, it no longer was the publication I lived for. It is now.

Could have been the missed months (three to be exact - Michelle Obama was my last cover). Could have been it was the model issue. Could have been Coco Rocha's fire and ice personified. Could have been Lyn Yaeger's testimony on the difficulty of reconciling a love for buying beautiful things during an economic downturn and newly restricted budget [On the market]. That alone touched a personal nerve. Could have been that every page - EVERY PAGE - brought a gasp of delight and inspiration. And it could just be, and probably is, that VOGUE is, well, VOGUE. Indomitable, ever-chic, interesting, and always on top. You never forget your first love.

Welcome back and thank you.

Mmmm. . .

2009-05-15T09:52:00.004-04:00

Today as I was reading (yes, reading) "Fabulous at Every Age" in my Harper's Bazaar it hit me that I no longer fit (age-wise) in to the 20s box. I have always browsed through every age group and make note of items I covet regardless of where I am - or they are recommended to be - on the calendar of life. So, why this morning did I suddenly want to be told to "Select a sweet palette of pinks and yellows?" (I've never been described sweet, sartorially speaking, in my life.) I'm much more in the "Get a sharp look in graphic black and white" camp that was recommended for those in their 30s.

Whatever the reason must explain for why I reached for my smashing new pair of vermillion jeans over my black skinnys.

Word to your Mother, Earth

2009-04-22T10:27:00.002-04:00

I've got a few words for Mother Earth. In honor of Earth Day, I thought I'd share them.
Giving. Rebirth. Forgiving. Breathtaking. Historical. Practical. Inspiring. One. Need. Change (forever a favorite). Constant. Wonder. Endangered.

Dear Green genies,
Take the time today to commune with the Earth and all that it does, give, feel and need. Take the long walk home, sort the recycling, ditch the plastic bag (once and for all), consume less - way less, go natural, unplug the hairdryer, TV and coffeemaker. Then, support a local farmer, eat organic, catch public transit, look up and still don't litter.

Happy Earth Day. Green's still the new black.

Red is green-er.

2009-04-16T13:29:00.006-04:00

It's a good thing OPI is dibutyl phthalate (DBP) and toluene-free as I have three (yes, three) coats of Thrill of Brazil, or known in Suite 200 as gpr red, on my nails. Sometimes you have to take a break from the grays, violets and navys of the polish world and paint it red.

As I paint (and work) am listening to The New by Interpol.
Thanks to Sara Hathcoat of Daisy Princess Paperie for the above illustration of moi!

Pink confection.

2009-04-15T11:45:00.005-04:00

I'd like to think tax day would be a wee bit more tolerable if I walked to mail my taxes (and my check) in these Givenchy cut-out boots. Nothing like a [double] shot of hot pink to set you right. I guess I'll never know.

Photo courtesy of net-a-porter.

My cup runneth over, and then some.

2009-04-14T15:47:00.008-04:00

There are things that are hard to give up: high heels, shopping, the occasional swear word. And then there are things that are haaaaaaaaaaard to give up: wine, music, coffee, the occasional swear word. (Kidding on that one, I actually have an extremely clean mouth.)

Well, for the last 40 days and nights and what seemed like a million mornings, I went without. Without coffee, that is. I figured this Lenten season, I'd go big or go back to Christmas. Coffee it was. One coffee-doesn't-do-anything-for-me (clearly under-caffeinated) person actually had the nerve to respond, "But, it's just coffee." Wrong. It's never been "just coffee" to me. It's been about the ritual, the time, the constant, if you will. Oh, it's about the taste, and aroma, and the perk as well, but it's more about the comfort in the cup.

The great coffee fast of 2009 ended Sunday and did I run (in heels) to the nearest barista - my own French press? No. I'd found a new ritual of reflection and prayer. Is it a substitute for my beloved act of making/buying/drinking coffee and other various espresso drinks? No, but it is a necessary addition. Not as an insignificant "side;" my morning of meditation is more of the cream in the coffee I learned to like black, which filled the dark liquid with a warm, comforting light. Just like that morning, afternoon, evening prayer. So, in day three of welcoming coffee - with "cream" - back in my life, I can truly say, my cup runneth over . . .

Common sense tip #329: Electronics and water don't mix.

2009-04-08T15:19:00.003-04:00

Forget oil and water. The new "don't mix" saying is "iPod and water" (for those of you, like me, who fail to separate their shuffle from their running gear) or "phone and water" (for those of you who multi-task, i.e. brush and talk, wash dishes and talk, and yes, bathe and talk).

You'd think I would have that simple "don't ever do this while doing this" tip down. Nope. So, gone is the shuffle known as 1-2-step. And gone are the saved texts and pictures from the last 1.75 years. Gone is the girl who rushes about and fails to take care of electronics. Here is the new me, relaxed, rested (riiiiiiiiight) and careful.

xox

Fast forward to fall

2009-03-12T11:48:00.003-04:00

With their neutral palette of leather, high-waisted shorts, billowing capes, black velvet and ruffled blouses Chloe, almost makes me want to skip spring and summer. Almost.

Photo courtesy of Imaxtree.

To Russia, from Thakoon

2009-02-17T10:11:00.008-05:00

Imagine my delight in seeing an Ushanka (not unlike mine) go down the runway at Thakoon! I've had a semi- life long love affair with these luxe hats. Possibly stemming from my belief in the romance of all things Russian (sorry Kel) and my long-standing "Doctor Zhivago"-inspired dream of speeding through Russia's snowy landscape to some forgotten, frozen ice mansion.

Good to know I can relive that dream in a pencil skirt and sheer top.

Image courtesy of nymag.com.

The Russian-inspired looks weren't the only spot-on designs he sent down the runway. Featuring 35 refined (yet with edge) looks that combined uber-feminine styles with playful, sexy accents and texture, Thakoon's show was filled with wearable, retail-friendly (we are in a down market after all) pieces. I'll take one of each, but first on my list are the nude frock with the after-hours untied bow and bright navy, belted satin dress. I'd even entertain his multi-colored fur cropped jackets, but only if I could accessorize with the emerald, envy-inducing gloves he showed as well. A collection well done!

Image courtesy of nymag.com.

Blue Monday.

2009-02-16T11:15:00.004-05:00

It seems odd that after a weekend of red, I'd be left feeling blue on this Monday. It could be the Love Hangover playlist I created over two years ago and am currently listening to in the office. It could be the Love Hangover itself, my favorite show of all time that happens each year on the day after Valentine's, full of boy/girl duos singing break-up and make-up covers. It could be that the cold has returned and with it the layers and the freezing office. And, it just could be that blue feeling that strikes every so often when you allow it to come over you.

In any event, here's to turning the blue start to the week, into something vibrant and bold a la Lela Rose's striking azure dress shown in her F/W 2009 collection. If it's blue I'm feeling, I'd rather be donning this.

Photo courtesy of nymag.com.

Home of the $10 manicure.

2009-02-02T12:44:00.000-05:00

Reason #874 why I love New York!

Celebrate Snow

2009-01-22T16:08:00.003-05:00

Here's to Snow Days, biscuit boarding until your limbs are numb and you've changed "gear" three times, laughing until it hurts, forgetting you're freezing, chili beans in the crock pot and OBAMA in office!

The view from inside the second floor.

2009-01-16T10:18:00.002-05:00

Amazing how the george pr red stands out.

A memorable view.

2008-12-12T10:37:00.003-05:00

Today on my five-block walk from car to office (too cold for scooter, though I applaud those still on two wheels), I saw the most moving site. Outside of the Marbles Museum and across from the Nativity scene in Moore Square, was hundreds of presents and goodies being loaded into a Salvation Army truck. Even better than witnessing generosity through giving, were the smiles and sheer joy on the faces of the "elves" loading the truck. Thank goodness for the human heart and capacity to give even in lean times.

It's a wonderful life.

She's got legs.

2008-12-03T13:59:00.003-05:00

This winter I'm mildly, OK more than mildly, obsessed with legwear. I've had colored stems (a fancy way to say I've been wearing tights) for 6 days straight with little color repeat. Each time I pull open my hosiery drawer I'm instantly mesmerized by its vibrant color spectrum. You see, one benefit of having a primarily-black wardrobe is the ability to wear color in my accessories. So goes it with my bold heels (current love: Jerome C. Rousseau Dragon Pump), rainbow of Lucite and now, opaque tights.

I haven't been shy about purchasing said colorful tights. And I haven't been shy about touting their virtue to any and everyone that will listen. (Tune into the N&O's Living in Style - out December 6 - spread for a 'how-to' on opaque legwear.) Stocked with a chic rainbow of leggings and tights, why do I secretly long for PVC leggings? I'd even settle for shiny lame' because PVC does seem better-suited for floating on than putting on. After much debate (OK, it took seeing, for the 15th time, a kick-ass picture of Kate Moss sporting a pair) I've taken the plunge. American Apparel is on my side and will now deliver one pair of black lame' leggings to my doorstep. Time, and a full-length mirror, will determine if they'll see the outside world. . .

In the name of fashion.

Dragon pump, Jerome C. Rousseau

Best way to hail a cab. Ever.

2008-11-20T12:58:00.004-05:00

Kate Spade Taxi mittens, as seen in NYmag.com's gift guide.

If I'm on anyone's list: These top mine.

A collective sigh

2008-11-19T14:36:00.005-05:00

All sunsets are magnificent. The close of the day, the last spot of light, a moment to reflect, to pause. Some of them, however, set fire to the sky and stop your heart from wonder. You sigh. You hear an echo, look over and realized the neighbor did too. A moment shared.

Saturday, November 16th's sky was ablaze. This one's for you abc. A brilliant end to a meaningful day, and the hope of a new day.

The way I see it.

2008-11-17T17:57:00.003-05:00

Everything looks better in red.

About Today.

2008-11-04T14:19:00.004-05:00

Forget the statement rings, the carefully layered necklaces or my signature stack of bangles (even my favored candy-colored Lucite ones). Today my accessory of choice is a sticker - my I VOTED sticker. It might be "just a sticker," nothing permanent about that, but yet, it is so much more. And in some ways, it is permanent. Today that sticker means I, and a record number of my countrymen and women, took part in history.

As I cast my ballot (#52), I was overwhelmed by the energy in my polling place - the excitement, the sense of purpose, the commitment to the future and the reverence of an act so simple, yet so powerful. I thought about the historical and exciting elections in the past. The elections that drew crowds and brought change. I thought about the women's suffrage movement and that first election following the ratification of the 19th Amendment in 1920 (not so very long ago).

Unless you've been living under a rock, you're aware of the historical characteristics of this election. Here's another: Americans coming together in seriously record numbers to take part in the democratic process and cast their vote for their candidate of choice. Standing in line, not across lines today. Voting is the biggest granter of equality. Your vote counts as much as my vote, as much as either candidates' votes. We're all equal. This is a reminder of that.

Now, get out and vote - the polls are still open. Get in on the action. Take your place in history. And document it - you'll be thankful you did.

What a girl wants. . .

2008-10-31T09:40:00.008-04:00

Is not always what a girl needs. I tend to confuse the two often. For example, PVC leggings is a want, not a need. Sometimes wants and needs align, and when they do the result is as moving as an A-list celebrity meet-and-greet at your favorite brunch spot.

Such was the case when I found my lipstick match: Paula Dorf's Lip Color Sheer Tint in Breathless. I wanted perfect nude-yet-not lips. I needed an everyday lip color. I got a lipstick that delivered on both accounts, and in a subtle, what I imagine to be, universally-flattering shade.

A special thanks to one of my top-tier shop girls at Luxe Apothecary. Because of you my lips will never again yearn to find that perfect shot of non-color color. You know exactly of what I'm speaking. That effortless blush it-girls seemingly have cornered. "What lipstick? I'm not wearing any lipstick. My lips just naturally have this slightly-flushed, beckoning tint." I'm one of those girls now, thank you very much Paula Dorf. At least in the lipstick department.

A note on Luxe: If you haven't been - go. If you don't live in the Triangle - shop online. Either way, get familiar with Luxe Apothecary. It will change your life. And your lips.

Kiss.

I heart hot pink tights

2008-10-28T18:39:00.005-04:00

There are some things that make you smile and make your outfit. Today it was my new hot pink tights. Tomorrow? Well, I'll have to wait and see. But, I'm not-so-secretly hoping a feather-embellished headband comes my way.

Change

2008-10-20T12:06:00.007-04:00

Is going to come.

One of the views from my scooter en route to the office.

Not that you're in it for the lesson

2008-10-15T15:22:00.008-04:00

But, if you were looking for one today listen to Ryan Adams' The Sun Also Sets. Like so many of Adams' songs, the lyrics grab you and it's as if he wrote it just for you, or even better, you wrote it. The reminder that The Sun Also Sets sends is how fragile, precious and fast life truly is. Not can be - is.

Why it grabbed me and didn't let me go:

I want to know how it all works out.

I've asked this a few times. OK, I've asked it a lot. A lot. If you've asked, read The Blind Assassin, you'll see why we don't know, can't know how it all works out. And why that's better.

We are only one push from the nest.

I first thought of the original nest; the one our parents pushed us from. Then I thought of all of the comfortable places in my life I had passed through or passed from, and the ones yet to come.

We are only one argument from death.

In a word: Forgiveness.

There it is. . .

Those three words lay down a reality we often forget. There it is: the harsh truth, the reality we don't want to face, life. And there it is for us to take, love, live.

The sun setting on the summer of 2007.

Reinvention 2008

2008-10-10T20:31:00.004-04:00

New York. We were to be there right now - sister and me. Reinvention part deux was the theme. Kept in our respective cities by exorbitant airfare ($400 for less than 24 hours, really?) and scarce accommodations. (Though the hotel formerly known as QT did come through in the end.) But, in the very end, we sold them - the Madge tickets. Tickets to the show that in June 0f 2006 put us (me and K. Beale) into motion: her off to Russia, me one week later to London to meet Kel. This was our bookend and another beginning. Or maybe was to be our "charge" as Kel puts it, a time to get together, catch up, drink in the city we both love.

Either way, it wasn't quite meant to be. And a grown-up decision to conserve - green that is - was made. So, tomorrow night Madge will be playing to a crowd of one via my iPod and a reverent glass of champagne. Kel, I imagine will be doing her on version of reinventing with her hot, hot-pink vinyl album and some equally reverent bubbly in the Northern corner of the Eastern seaboard. And in the middle, in the city, thousands of lucky ones will pledge their own reinvention.

I still love you though New York.

I caught my stride, I flew and flied.

2008-10-10T14:47:00.007-04:00

About a Boy might have made it a humorous topic of conversation, but singing, eyes closed with wild abandon is nothing new to me. Music is such an integral part of my life, it's rare for me not to be singing. Thanks v. much to Grandma Beale and Grandma Joyce, both of which always had a tune on their lips. OK, so rare to not be singing might be stretching it, but I'm usually not without music between the apt., car, office and walking or jogging.

Since I've been back on my scooter, which was previously sidelined with a flat tire, I haven't had the opportunity to ready myself for the day with a touch of Feist or MGMT (still the darlings of my iPod). Instead I've focused on the sites on my daily route. There are the runners that I scoot past in almost the same spot every morning. The workers queued up for tasks at the Laborfinders office just before the railroad. The signs of progress by way of tall condos and refurbished warehouses that once were nonexistent and forgotten. There's the change in season. Leaves that were once lush and green are golden and have begun to fall. There are political yard signs multiplying in number, reminding me that another change is coming.

Then, if I'm running early, or even on time, I'll scoot over the Boylan Bridge and take in a favorite view of downtown in the morning; awake, shining, poised for the day. I remember when there were only two "tall" buildings where now there are four. And I remember when downtown seemed sort of foreign to me and now it's home.

But I digress back to the singing. Because music while in motion was running scarce, I took my car out for an errand. It was dusk. That perfect time of day, especially in the fall, when the sun is low and everything, everything has a glow. My sis loves this time of day and for good reason. It's as if you're looking through the proverbial rose-colored glasses. She helped me love this time of day. With the iPod on shuffle, anything could play. And it did. For Reasons Unknown by The Killers filled the speakers and I reached for the volume. That familiar feeling of excitement and nostalgia at hearing a song from your [recent] past hit me. For a moment it was fall 2006 and all of those memories flooded my mind. Having moved, separated, traveled and loved it was music, along with a solid crew led by my amazing sister, that got me through. It was For Reasons Unknown that kicked off the soundtrack to that pivotal season in my life. Forgetting the gas crisis, I drove well past my intended destination. Windows down, iPod on repeat, singing. . . with my eyes closed.

I said if destiny's kind, I've got the rest of my mind.

But my heart it don't beat, it don't beat the way it used to.

And my eyes they don't see you no more.

Speaking of fall 2006, a toast to that crew.

A model day

2008-09-21T19:15:00.003-04:00

It's been a fashionable weekend. First a runway show a la the Triangle's emerging designers. Then I headed off to the coast to model in a commercial. Me on a platform, in a white dress, fans, birds, lights and loads of onlookers. Ahh, the model life.

Off to round two, the more fashion-driven shots. More to come later. Oh, and photographs too.

You gotta. . . Prada. . .

2008-09-15T12:07:00.004-04:00

I believe "bag with a lotta stuff in it" is how Will Smith's lyric went. If I "gotta" Prada bag, who cares about the stuff in it. Especially if the bag is their new, destined to be cult favorite (already-seen on supermodel Miranda Kerr's arm) lace-trim bag. Why-oh-why can't I be part of that cult? When I first saw an image of the bag, in all its sex-kitten intrigue, I nearly fainted.

And speaking of sex-kitten intrigue, black lace is one of my very favorite fabrics. It's high in both romance and drama. Miuccia Prada's fall 2008 collection takes the youthful effect out of lace, replacing it with a sophisticated, even menacing appeal. Think bourgeois gone mad but in a subdued manner, like that dark, quiet girl in class. I'd like to be that quiet girl. Especially if it meant a rack of Prada's severely-feminine lace pencil skirts and peplum coats were hanging in perfect order in my closet. As always, her designs are the definition of strong femininity mixed with buttoned-up sex appeal. Thanks to those who know cleverly demure always wins over the obvious.

And my love affair with Prada deepens. . .

La Vie Boheme lives on.

2008-09-12T18:33:00.011-04:00

The lights on Broadway are dimmer now that Rent, play-turned-philosophy, closed Sunday, September 7th. But thanks to the inspiring words and sensational cast, we're armed with the mantra of La Vie Boheme: To more than one dimension. . . no absolutes. . . curry Vindaloo (for you kb). . . emotion, devotion, to causing a commotion. Here's to Jonathon Larson and his transforming vision who taught us how to live in America at the end of the millennium. Here's to measuring your life in love.

And to pay homage to a perfect New York evening I had earlier in 2008: A snapshot of Restaurant Florent (another shuttered New York treasure). With "a thousand sweet kisses" we bid adieu.

In my next life

2008-09-12T10:55:00.004-04:00

I'd like to come back as a magazine editor.
Or her.

A taste of fashion in the Triangle

2008-09-11T13:04:00.005-04:00

If you can't beat them (the NYFW go-er's, that is), join them. And that's what a crowd of designers, stylists, and fashion-lovers did Sunday at Poole's Diner, the same day DVF and JT wowed the crowds at Bryant Park. Check out all of the photos from the FashionSPARK Fundraising Brunch here. If you still haven't got your full-fashion fix - and why would you have? - show up Friday, September 19th at Moore Square for the runway show featuring the FashionSPARK 2008 designers.

Leaving you with a delicious favorite.

Be the change. . . and welcome to Fashion Week

2008-09-05T14:34:00.005-04:00

Gandhi's oft-quoted "Be the change you want to see in the world" has never looked so lovely as it does stitched en Francais on Rachel Roy's slim sheath. It's pure perfection, as well as a gentle reminder, and a witty way to kick off New York Fashion Week.

I'll be there in spirit of course, but plan on celebrating in absentia listening to MGMT's Kids and wishing it was already spring 2009 and that I was wearing Roy's cool confection below. Enjoy the tents.

Good Morning Upper East Siders.

2008-09-02T15:33:00.006-04:00

It's back. The delightfully vicious, deliciously meta, well-dressed world of Gossip Girl. Who doesn't love a good scandal, a lover's reunion, cat fight, or [white] party where the beautiful people quotient is challenged only by the designer clothing count? Um, no one that I know. Add society style icon (and someone who looks to be genuinely nice) Tinsley Mortimer to the mix and you've got the guest list for my 30th Birthday Bash.

I could admit this long before last night's premier, but Gossip Girl has permanently knocked (or designer handbag walloped) The Hills off my guilty pleasure list. A.) I don't fear I'm losing brain cells by watching it, and B.) It's just better. Josh Schwartz, I'd follow you to any teen-centric drama.

And yes, a guilty pleasure it still is. Even with the literary cameo by Jay McInerney (Bright Lights, Big City), the soap and all of its excess is just pure, entertaining pleasure. No higher meaning there. And what's wrong with that?

You know you love it.

Let there be light. . . and color

2008-08-30T11:15:00.001-04:00

I left NYC last week at that perfect early time of morning. The cab took me up by the East River and as we approached the FDR, I saw beautiful, golden rays of light dancing through the buildings. As we reached the water's edge, the light played off of the trees and was echoed on the water. Breathtaking. See you soon fall.

It's catching, the Dewey Color System. Two of my favorite people have participated and blogged about their results. So of course I became curious. Want to delight in color? Yes. Want to find out something you maybe knew about yourself, but needed to reaffirm? Yes. Take the test, pick the colors, smile at the reminder of yourself.

Perhaps this is the most appropriate time to introduce my DCS results, it is in fact my second post on a blog that has been secured, but empty for almost a month now. Mmmmh, and what exactly does that say about me both an ardent creator of the written word and a somewhat creature of habit? We'll see what the next test may tell. For now, here's what Dewey and his multi-colored exam had to say:

You're an Entertainer
By paying close attention to everyone's emotions, you better understand yourself and others. Your exciting, concerned energy compels people to express themselves. When you hear how others feel, you clearly see their kindness, love, pain, and fear.

So, there I am. Hello. Looking forward to getting to know you, and me more.

I'll leave you with one of my favorite sights.

For Like Ever

2008-08-26T14:19:00.001-04:00

For Like Ever. One of my favorite phrases. Thank you very much to the super-cool foundry, village for putting that phrase on paper, making it a "larger, hopeful statement." For Like Ever, as told by village, is meant to signify the excitement and fear of a new beginning. Perfectly put, I think. New beginnings though filled with excitement are also wrought with fear and change. New beginnings show us exactly what we've got inside. With fall on the very near horizon, a move in the future and only the hope for tomorrow, I would say now is as good a time as any to begin my blog: view from the second floor.

View from the second floor is dedicated to the spot where I happily spend the majority of my time: the white haven (save one cut ruby floor-to-ceiling wall) that is my office. Looking out and over is one of my favorite pastimes. When I'm suffering writer's block, I find inspiration. When I'm restless, I find comfort. In what? In the street scape, the constant flow of people, and the occasional antic/fashion victim/familiar passerby/bank robbery. Oh, and I truly love the view.

I would be remiss if I didn't mention my dear sister, Kelli (also known as the best dancer) for it is she that For Like Ever belongs to. Sisters (thanks mom + dad) to roommates and best friends (thanks a to the k). Kelli just started off on her own new beginning in Boston. Taking with her, yep you guessed it, her very own For Like Ever print as a reminder. And a constant.

So, here's to new beginnings. To the excitement, fear, change, love, spontaneity, comfort, constants, restless desires and to the unknown. For like ever.