Clothing Hiatus

The title of this post is not to insinuate that I am tearing around NYC in the buff. I digress that my blog has segued from 'clothes I love' to 'shit I need', at a disturbing rate. Who am I? Am I wearing lululemon to work? 

I used to say things like, 'OMG Tom Ford.' Now, my vocab consists of , 'John, hide those cords.'

We've made a ton of progress in our new marital shack and everything is grand. Save for the discovery of the FIRST HUSBANDS CLUB next door. If they ruin one more episode of 'It's a Brad, Brad World' for me...I'm going to hurl a bucket of water over the terrace fence and directly on to their flaming grill. Nothing makes a Wall St. schmuck madder than ruining his lamb chop. 

Big thanks to Emily Clark for the image that sums up my existence and for Dominique for the stealthy plan of attack on the next meeting of the Douche-bag Committee.

One Block & World Away

I won't be so diluted as to assume that enough people read this droll to bother to apologize for my absence.

 So, here it is. 

I've been completely consumed with uprooting my current abode and moving into an alternate one...500 feet southwest. It wasn't in my financial immediate plan to move, but lack of heat, wi-fi, and some significant water damage, lead us to this decision. As with most conundrums I face, I'm projecting a positive attitude on it to strangers and, in the privacy of my own home, talk to John as if my world is falling apart. I don't care to be suddenly impoverished unprepared, so I compiled a list of things I required myself to accomplish before the big move on Saturday.

* Sell every article of clothing, shoe, and accessory I haven't worn this season. Freak out and replace.

CHECK

* Paint all of my shabby-chic, bullshit furniture a high-glass black. Inquire to myself if Tom Ford would be ascetically pleased by the re-vamped pieces.

CHECK

* Paint over old canvases I hate and refurbish all lamps with gold leaf and black shades.

CHECK

* Get the hell over the fact that I can't get my black leather Chesterfield couch yet.

BALLS

 This is akin to the look of my current apartment. Meh. 

I want to tone down the tchotchk and up the sexy. Wish me luck, I will be hurling an abundance  of figurines and vases to the curb in order to achieve this about-face minimalism. Much to John's delight.

*Many of my DIY's were not captured on my iphone film, so stay tuned for my diligent post regarding the 'before' and 'after' in the new space.* 

See y'all.

More Chanelstics

Another beautiful photo from Karl Lagerfeld's 'gymnastique' inspired Chanel shoot. I'd love to have a print of these to hang in my new home, but I've promised the life partner that our new abode will be more masculine. Sucker.

Wicked Good Taste

How do I make this for my apartment? Murder people who walk too slow on the sidewalks and use their bones for this chandelier? You're right...that's an excellent idea.

Since I'm being left no choice, other than to immediately move out of my condemned hellhole, it has gotten me thinking about home decor and homicide.

This seemed like a nice collab.

Get your A$$ in Gear

The reason for my personal style quandary came to me in my sleep, and made for certain that I was at yoga this morning. I'l preach the benefits of yoga to anyone who'll give me the time of day, but let's get real. The sense of calm, anxiety relief, and general well-being are fabulous...but I want a hot bod.

In the coming months, I'm positive that my style evolution will come to a head, once I look like Miranda Kerr in jbrands and a t-shirt. I'll leave you with this tidbit of humanity, brought to you by myself and Gwyneth Paltrow. It's refreshing to know such a babe has to work so hard to keep it up. To all you ladies and tramps who promote their love of nachos, whilst shooting a bikini editorial...the jig is up. Suck it.

Inspiration Needed: Street Style Need Not Apply

I'm in a personal style slump that is reinforced by the necessity for my down parka and hideous black UGGS. Yes, the shoes normally reserved for walking the dog have made an appearance in my office today and I don't wanna hear it. It's too frigging cold to wear the resort shoes that are out and none of the sales are good enough to bother with. I'm left with Celine sandals or boots that have been out since June and are a whopping 30% off. Bitch, please. 

Ain't nobody made at my Hanes and Uggs, so long as I sport this ish on my hand.

Yup, all at once. I need more fingers.

Til next time. xo