Archive for March, 2013

Stride right

If you live in a large urban area where your feet are your primary means of transportation, it’s important to own at least one pair of sandals that is both walkable and un-shleppy—not the easiest combination to swing. But not impossible: this handmade pair from Japanese brand Nom & Ada is like a cleaned-up, slightly French-ified version of a huarache. And the rubber sole adds just a touch of height without any incline at all, which is never bad.

And also:  Worishofers, which hit it big around 2005 or so—although I have strong recollections of  uber-indie rock types like Kim Gordon wearing them all the way back in the the mid-90s, and wanting desperately to know what they were. Designed by a German podiatrist for old ladies with bunions, they happen to look genius on hipsters—just check out how cute the mule version is on Michelle Williams.

I’m partial to these myself.  All Worishofers are under $100, and they’re all deathly comfortable too. Not so much on the sexy side, but that’s not the point of this exercise.

And for something a little more your-first-Kiss-concert: Kork-Ease! Just exactly the same as they ever were. The heel on these only appears to be high—look a little closer, and you’ll see the platform is so hulking that the incline is negligible. If you’re really not the platform type, they make the exact same sandal in a much lower version too.

Friday links

• Kiss and Hello Kitty are collaborating on a cartoon show.  (Time)
• Behold, thirty whole seconds of Michael Douglas as Liberace. (EW)
• I love this story—and the accompanying video—about the Ebony fashion fair, which was run by Eunice Johnson, whose husband founded Ebony and Jet magazines, and who loved the haute couture, and about whom I knew nothing. Johnson went to Europe and bought dresses right off the runway for the fair, which traveled annually across America to 170 cities until the year before her death, and which is currently the subject of an exhibition at the Chicago History Museum. (Crain’s Chicago Business)
• Shine on, Willie Nelson. (Texas Monthly)
• Friday Night Lights author Buzz Bissinger, who as you might recall outed himself as a compulsive shopper in a very strange and sad GQ piece earlier this week, has checked into rehab. Clear eyes, strong hearts,  Buzz. (Today)

Getting a move on

The West Village is as lovely a neighborhood as one could hope to inhabit, and I never stop feeling grateful to live here. And yet, any part of town can become tedious if one spends enough time there, and this turns out to be particularly true for those of us whose commute is precisely as long as it takes to locate where we last put the laptop. So occasionally a person just has to get out of Dodge—no matter how charming and livable Dodge may be.  Today, the temperature was on the verge of breaking 50, and the sun wasn’t not out, so I slid on my most walkable boots, put the dog on his leash and hit the sidewalk.

Bleecker Street stretches from Bank Street (practically my doorstep) all the way to the Bowery, and for this reason functions somewhat as my personal I-95 for walkabouts—winding as it does south and east through several downtown neighborhoods, with opportunities to exit at many alluring shopping destinations along the way. From Bank until West 10th on Bleecker it’s wall-to-wall big-name stores—Maje and Diptyque and Coach and Fresh and about eleventy million more. But cross that border and you start hitting a few neighborhood stalwarts—places that have been around since the street was lined with dusty and expensive antique stores (which feels like a lifetime ago but was actually—amazingly—only about ten years).  The fantastic floral studio Ovando is one of those places, and I popped in to pick something out for a very dear friend who’s recuperating from  surgery.

I got her a little something like this. It felt like the kind of arrangement that would go a long way toward brightening up a drab hospital room.

But I was not un-tempted to get her one of these orchid-in-a-box numbers, which are what Ovando’s more well-known for. People in the media send each other flowers reflexively and for the most un-sentimental  reasons. As a magazine editor, you learn early on that the beautiful arrangement the mailroom guy just placed  on your desk is nine times out of ten going to be from an acne cream publicist looking for coverage, and not your future boyfriend—or even new best friend. After a while it kind of dulled the gesture of its romance. I always swooned, though, when the flowers were from Ovando.

It was raining when I walked out of the store. Because it’s spring, and New York, and of course. So I popped into the first shoe repair I saw and bought a nice basic black Totes—something I mention only because it occurs to me that those of you who visit from out of town should always know to look for the nearest shoe repair store if you get caught in a downpour. They’re everywhere, and they all sell decent umbrellas, not the cheapo $5 ones you get on the street that will not last the day.

I wanted to check out some home stores—my hunt for the perfect side table marches on—and popped in to Matter, where I wish to spend a great deal of money just as soon as I come into a sizable fortune. This blown glass side table is so transcendent I think I could get all trance-y just staring at it.

And this steel and rawhide console makes no sense at all, but I need it.

I am dying for one of these excellently weird-ass trays. And am also beginning to realize I’m a tray-hoarder, which seems like an odd choice.

Would this domino set not make a lovely gift? With those those excellent stars?

After Matter, I popped briefly into Clic Bookstore and Gallery, the most recent venture by Christianne Celle, who created a mini lifestyle-and-fashion rich hippie revolution when she founded Calypso—and went on to make  a crazy fortune when she sold it a few years back. The space itself is an funny boutique/gallery/bookstore hybrid—there are ongoing art exhibits, and an assortment of appealing tribal/hipster jewelry and clothing lines. But books really are at the heart of what this place is about.

There are lots of rare editions by the kind of photographers that fashion people like to get  inspired by, like William Eggleston and Nan Goldin. And lots of titles that people like me can look at and then kick ourselves for letting slip through our hands—like that first edition Annie Leibovitz book with Meryl Streep on the cover, which I gave away, having decided it wasn’t sufficiently punk rock or something. And which is now selling for $320.

 

Thursday links

• Best-of lists can be such a snore, but this one—of the best under-the-radar movies of all time—is rather compelling indeed. (EW)
• All sorts of clever takes on the red marriage equality equal sign that’s taken over all of our Facebook feeds. (Time)
• More ladies in high places. (Atlantic Wire)
• Everyone knows librarians are cool, but these librarians are the kings and queens of cool librarians. (Flavorwire)
• The year 1993 is calling—literally. (Ars Technica)

Give me a spring dress with a nice, dignified hemline

 

This should not be such a hard thing to track down, and yet it is. Every season. And every season, the fact of this makes me feel like the big fat cliche that I have become: a middle-aged woman bitching that she can’t find any dresses with enough in the way of length. And it’s not like I couldn’t get away with something above the knee if I had to—in fact, my legs are still surprisingly un-hideous. It’s just that at this stage in the game, I find myself not really wanting to. A longer silhouette just feels more sophisticated, and more womanly too. Short seems cute and boppy by comparison—for the kids. I ask you: could any minidress impart even a fraction of the movie star drama of this divine Rachel Comey silk organza print?

The slash of mini on this elegantly draped Helmut Lang dress is no more revealing than a moderate slit, but so much more interesting.

Another winning print from Rachel Comey, who always really brings it come springtime. There are those who might take a belt to a dress this voluminous, but I’d wear it just as is, all tent-like.

Doesn’t this look just a tiny bit like something Katharine Hepburn might have worn in a sassy workplace romantic comedy?

Back when I could buy all the pretty dresses I wanted, I bought lots from Zero + Maria Cornejo, because she  really knows how to cut for a woman’s body, and her dresses—like this jewel-tone blue one—are the soul of comfort.

Also, her prints are to die.

The red and the blue together   are fantastic—it’s the just-right red, and the just-right blue—and the bird print is classic.

Chills

This is what the Supreme Court building looked like last night.