Not sure how I got this Evite, but I'm not complaining! I'll gladly attend.
Wednesday, April 2, 2008
Thursday, March 27, 2008
It's been a while, I know. Call it Blog Burnout, Event Mania, or whatever. I've been a busy person, doing accessories for fashion shows, planning trunk shows, making valuable press contacts, sneaking clothes into the house when my husband isn't looking... you know, that all takes a lot of work, and has kept me away from here!
Important Upcoming Events:
TONIGHT, 3/27/08:
Girls Gone Glam fundraiser for Dress For Success, a GREAT organization that provides free professional clothing and career counseling to welfare-to-work women in the community.
Important Upcoming Events:
TONIGHT, 3/27/08:
Girls Gone Glam fundraiser for Dress For Success, a GREAT organization that provides free professional clothing and career counseling to welfare-to-work women in the community.
Art Buzz: A Benefit for Cultural Program for DC Public Schools, at 4NXC Boutique
AND Once Upon A Prom Fundraiser at Urban Chic (donate a prom dress, get a big discount).
Goodness... I have to work so I don't see how I can be in 4 places at once. Thursdays are great for fashion events, for some reason.
FRIDAY, 3/28/08:
Wreckfest @ Tiffany's
SATURDAY, 3/29/08:
Peacock Grand Cafe & Bloomingdale's Fashion Show and Brunch to Benefit the Washington Humane Society.
Whew... busy weekend indeed!
I'll be back soon with some of my favorite things.
Friday, January 25, 2008
R & Y Augousti
You MUST know about this label. Right now!!!!! The husband and wife design team have worked together for 20 years. Ria is from the Philipines, and Yiouri is from Cyprus. They use the most unusual materials, as you can see. This is shagreen (sharkskin) and ostrich. Rare, sumptuous, textural and modern. The seed-pod-like bumps & vertical lines of the ostrich skin and the tonal colors play off of each other, not to mention the unexpected shape of the minaudiere and the glint of bronze.
An interview with the design team: http://threelayercake.com/content/view/250/45/
Some info about Shagreen (from Wikipedia).
Shagreen is a type of roughened untanned leather, formerly made from a horse's back, or that of an onager (wild ass), and typically dyed green. Shagreen is now commonly made of the skins of sharks and rays. The word derives from the French chagrin (anxiety, annoyance – a reference to the rasping surface of the leather) which in turn is said to have developed from the Turkish[1][2] sağrı, literally, the back of a horse. Shagreen has an unusually rough and granular surface, and is sometimes used as a fancy leather for book bindings, pocket-books and small cases, as well as its more utilitarian uses in the handles of swords and daggers, where slipperiness is a positive disadvantage.
Shagreen was traditionally prepared by embedding plant seeds (often Chenopodium) in the untreated skin while soft, covering the skin with a cloth, and trampling them into the skin. When the skin was dry the seeds were shaken off, leaving the surface of the leather covered with small indentations.
In the 17th and early 18th centuries, however, the term "shagreen" began to be applied to a leather made from sharkskin or the skin of a rayfish (probably the pearl ray, Hypolophus sephen). This form is also termed sharkskin or galuchat. Such skins are naturally covered with round, closely set, calcified papillae called placoid scales, whose size is chiefly dependent on the age and size of the animal. These scales are ground down to give a roughened surface of rounded pale protrusions, between which the dye (again, typically green vegetable dye) shows when the material is coloured from the other side. This latter form of shagreen was first popularised by Jean-Claude Galluchat (d. 1774), a master leatherworker in the court of Louis XV of France. It quickly became a fashion amongst the French aristocracy, and appears to have migrated throughout Europe by the mid-18th century.
FENDI, what else???
As usual, Fendi has made my heart sing. Now I'm scheming as to how I can get ahold of one of these babies when I certainly cannot afford it, my credit card is about to catch on fire, AND they are sold out anyway!!
A girl can dream... and check on ebay!
Enjoy...
Thursday, January 10, 2008
I Miss Italy
Cat in the Rain
by Ernest Hemingway
There were only two Americans stopping at the hotel. They did not know any of the people they passed on the stairs on their way to and from their room. Their room was on the second floor facing the sea. It also faced the public garden and war monument. There were big palms and green benches in the public garden. In the good weather there was always an artist with his easel. Artists liked the way the palms grew and the bright colors of the hotels facing the sea. Italians came from a long way off to look up at the war monument. It was made of bronze and glistened in the rain. It was raining. The rain dripped from the palm trees. Water stood in pools on the gravel paths. The sea broke in a long line in the rain. The motor cars were gone from the square by the war monument. Across the square in the doorway of the cafe a waiter stood looking out at the empty square.
The American wife stood at the window looking out. Outside right under their window a cat was crouched under one of the dripping green tables. The cat was trying to make herself so compact that she would not be dripped on.
“I’m going down and get that kitty,” the American wife said.
“I’ll do it,” her husband offered from the bed.
“No, I’ll get it. The poor kitty is out trying to keep dry under the table.”
The husband went on reading, lying propped up with the two pillows at the foot of the bed.
“Don’t get wet,” he said.
The wife went downstairs and the hotel owner stood up and bowed to her as she passed the office. His desk was at the far end of the office. He was an old man and very tall.
“Il piove,” the wife said. She liked the hotelkeeper.
“Si, si, Signora, brutto tempo. It is very bad weather.”
He stood behind his desk in the far end of the dim room. The wife liked him. She liked the way he wanted to serve her. She liked the way he felt about being a hotel-keeper. She liked his old, heavy face and big hands.
Liking him she opened the door and looked out. It was raining harder. A man in a rubber cape was crossing the empty square to the cafe. The cat would be around to the right. Perhaps she could go along to the eaves. As she stood in the doorway an umbrella opened behind her. It was the maid who looked after their room.
“You must not get wet,” she smiled, speaking Italian. Of course, the hotel-keeper had sent her.
With the maid holding the umbrella over her, she walked along the gravel path until she was under their window. The table was there, washed bright green in the rain, but the cat was gone. She was suddenly disappointed. The maid looked up at her.
“Ha perduto qualque cosa, Signora?”
“There was a cat,” said the American girl.
“A cat?”
“Si, il gatto.”
“A cat?” the maid laughed. “A cat in the rain?”
“Yes,” she said, “under the table.” Then, “Oh, I wanted it so much. I wanted a kitty.”
When she talked English the maid’s face tightened.
“Come, Signora,” she said. “We must get back inside. You will be wet.”
“I suppose so,” said the American girl.
They went back along the gravel path and passed in the door. The maid stayed outside to close the umbrella. As the American girl passed the office, the padrone bowed from his desk. Something felt very small and tight inside the girl. The padrone made her feel very small and at the same time really important. She had a momentary feeling of being of supreme importance. She went on up the stairs. She opened the door of the room. George was on the bed reading.
“Did you get the cat?” he asked, putting the book down.
“It was gone.”
“Wonder where it went to,” he said, resting his eyes from reading. She sat down on the bed.
“I wanted it so much,” she said. “I don’t know why I wanted it so much. I wanted that poor kitty. It isn’t any fun to be a poor kitty out in the rain.”
George was reading again.
She went over and sat in front of the mirror of the dressing table looking at herself with the hand glass. She studied her profile, first one side and then the other. Then she studied the back of her head and her neck.
“Don’t you think it would be a good idea if I let my hair grow out?” she asked, looking at her profile again.
George looked up and saw the back of her neck, clipped close like a boy’s.
“I like it the way it is.”
“I get so tired of it,” she said. “I get so tired of looking like a boy.”
George shifted his position in the bed. He hadn’t looked away from her since she started to speak.
“You look pretty darn nice,” he said.
She laid the mirror down on the dresser and went over to the window and looked out. It was getting dark.
“I want to pull my hair back tight and smooth and make a big knot at the back that I can feel,” she said. “I want to have a kitty to sit on my lap and purr when I stroke her.”
“Yeah?” George said from the bed.
“And I want to eat at a table with my own silver and I want candles. And I want it to be spring and I want to brush my hair out in front of a mirror and I want a kitty and I want some new clothes.”
“Oh, shut up and get something to read,” George said. He was reading again.
His wife was looking out of the window. It was quite dark now and still raining in the palm trees.
“Anyway, I want a cat,” she said, “I want a cat. I want a cat now. If I can’t have long hair or any fun, I can have a cat.”
George was not listening. He was reading his book. His wife looked out of the window where the light had come on in the square.
Someone knocked at the door.
“Avanti,” George said. He looked up from his book. In the doorway stood the maid. She held a big tortoise-shell cat pressed tight against her and swung down against her body.
“Excuse me,” she said, “the padrone asked me to bring this for the Signora.”
by Ernest Hemingway
There were only two Americans stopping at the hotel. They did not know any of the people they passed on the stairs on their way to and from their room. Their room was on the second floor facing the sea. It also faced the public garden and war monument. There were big palms and green benches in the public garden. In the good weather there was always an artist with his easel. Artists liked the way the palms grew and the bright colors of the hotels facing the sea. Italians came from a long way off to look up at the war monument. It was made of bronze and glistened in the rain. It was raining. The rain dripped from the palm trees. Water stood in pools on the gravel paths. The sea broke in a long line in the rain. The motor cars were gone from the square by the war monument. Across the square in the doorway of the cafe a waiter stood looking out at the empty square.
The American wife stood at the window looking out. Outside right under their window a cat was crouched under one of the dripping green tables. The cat was trying to make herself so compact that she would not be dripped on.
“I’m going down and get that kitty,” the American wife said.
“I’ll do it,” her husband offered from the bed.
“No, I’ll get it. The poor kitty is out trying to keep dry under the table.”
The husband went on reading, lying propped up with the two pillows at the foot of the bed.
“Don’t get wet,” he said.
The wife went downstairs and the hotel owner stood up and bowed to her as she passed the office. His desk was at the far end of the office. He was an old man and very tall.
“Il piove,” the wife said. She liked the hotelkeeper.
“Si, si, Signora, brutto tempo. It is very bad weather.”
He stood behind his desk in the far end of the dim room. The wife liked him. She liked the way he wanted to serve her. She liked the way he felt about being a hotel-keeper. She liked his old, heavy face and big hands.
Liking him she opened the door and looked out. It was raining harder. A man in a rubber cape was crossing the empty square to the cafe. The cat would be around to the right. Perhaps she could go along to the eaves. As she stood in the doorway an umbrella opened behind her. It was the maid who looked after their room.
“You must not get wet,” she smiled, speaking Italian. Of course, the hotel-keeper had sent her.
With the maid holding the umbrella over her, she walked along the gravel path until she was under their window. The table was there, washed bright green in the rain, but the cat was gone. She was suddenly disappointed. The maid looked up at her.
“Ha perduto qualque cosa, Signora?”
“There was a cat,” said the American girl.
“A cat?”
“Si, il gatto.”
“A cat?” the maid laughed. “A cat in the rain?”
“Yes,” she said, “under the table.” Then, “Oh, I wanted it so much. I wanted a kitty.”
When she talked English the maid’s face tightened.
“Come, Signora,” she said. “We must get back inside. You will be wet.”
“I suppose so,” said the American girl.
They went back along the gravel path and passed in the door. The maid stayed outside to close the umbrella. As the American girl passed the office, the padrone bowed from his desk. Something felt very small and tight inside the girl. The padrone made her feel very small and at the same time really important. She had a momentary feeling of being of supreme importance. She went on up the stairs. She opened the door of the room. George was on the bed reading.
“Did you get the cat?” he asked, putting the book down.
“It was gone.”
“Wonder where it went to,” he said, resting his eyes from reading. She sat down on the bed.
“I wanted it so much,” she said. “I don’t know why I wanted it so much. I wanted that poor kitty. It isn’t any fun to be a poor kitty out in the rain.”
George was reading again.
She went over and sat in front of the mirror of the dressing table looking at herself with the hand glass. She studied her profile, first one side and then the other. Then she studied the back of her head and her neck.
“Don’t you think it would be a good idea if I let my hair grow out?” she asked, looking at her profile again.
George looked up and saw the back of her neck, clipped close like a boy’s.
“I like it the way it is.”
“I get so tired of it,” she said. “I get so tired of looking like a boy.”
George shifted his position in the bed. He hadn’t looked away from her since she started to speak.
“You look pretty darn nice,” he said.
She laid the mirror down on the dresser and went over to the window and looked out. It was getting dark.
“I want to pull my hair back tight and smooth and make a big knot at the back that I can feel,” she said. “I want to have a kitty to sit on my lap and purr when I stroke her.”
“Yeah?” George said from the bed.
“And I want to eat at a table with my own silver and I want candles. And I want it to be spring and I want to brush my hair out in front of a mirror and I want a kitty and I want some new clothes.”
“Oh, shut up and get something to read,” George said. He was reading again.
His wife was looking out of the window. It was quite dark now and still raining in the palm trees.
“Anyway, I want a cat,” she said, “I want a cat. I want a cat now. If I can’t have long hair or any fun, I can have a cat.”
George was not listening. He was reading his book. His wife looked out of the window where the light had come on in the square.
Someone knocked at the door.
“Avanti,” George said. He looked up from his book. In the doorway stood the maid. She held a big tortoise-shell cat pressed tight against her and swung down against her body.
“Excuse me,” she said, “the padrone asked me to bring this for the Signora.”
Tuesday, December 11, 2007
Back from Hollywood Hills!
My God, I want to move to LA! I was there last week, and it was 80 degrees and sunny, not a cloud in the sky! I have never seen so many Bentleys in my life! I had the best time wandering around Beverly Hills, looking at beautiful clothes and jewelry, and of course the beautiful people. My star sightings:
Terrence Howard was at Dulles Airport
Martin Short on my plane
The Diet Coke guy was at the 101 Diner which was attached to my hotel
Saw the crazy girl from Nip Tuck while I was eating Brazilian food on Beverly Drive
Can't complain! All that in 4 days!
I visited the store where the stars shop, Lisa Kline. Apparently they lower the curtains over the windows when someone famous shops there so the paparazzi don't harrass them and they can enjoy a relaxing shopping experience. They did not draw the curtains for me. But I did get a long grecian gown by ingwa; melero:
Mine is like this, but long and the material is a pastel space dye knit. Hard to describe... but the draping in the front is just amazing.
What else did I learn in LA? That a lot of strange things pass for "work" in that town. Like, making online videos of yourself, hiring out French waitresses for money, pretending to be a Ninja... I have been in the wrong business for too long!
Terrence Howard was at Dulles Airport
Martin Short on my plane
The Diet Coke guy was at the 101 Diner which was attached to my hotel
Saw the crazy girl from Nip Tuck while I was eating Brazilian food on Beverly Drive
Can't complain! All that in 4 days!
I visited the store where the stars shop, Lisa Kline. Apparently they lower the curtains over the windows when someone famous shops there so the paparazzi don't harrass them and they can enjoy a relaxing shopping experience. They did not draw the curtains for me. But I did get a long grecian gown by ingwa; melero:
Mine is like this, but long and the material is a pastel space dye knit. Hard to describe... but the draping in the front is just amazing.
What else did I learn in LA? That a lot of strange things pass for "work" in that town. Like, making online videos of yourself, hiring out French waitresses for money, pretending to be a Ninja... I have been in the wrong business for too long!
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