Bloody Crafty

And the Winner is.... John Galliano

All in all that was pretty disappointing - "that" being the Academy Awards.  I can't remember an awards show where I didn't fall in love - either with a frock or a person. And last night, like my fortune cookie on Saturday night, was fortune-less.  No one really blew me away or made me gasp - except maybe Reese Witherspoon but that was based more on her poor choice than the crime of the dress.  I thought Taraji Henson looked lovely but mostly because of her awesome necklace - not really that ruffle-y dress (Cavalli can do better).  And Kate Winslet looked fine but mostly because of her impeccably styled hair not really her dress.  I thought Anne Hathaway and Jennifer Anniston's dresses were nearly the same and equally boring.  Likewise for Natalie Portman and Alicia Keys - both of which looked beautiful - but I kind of hated that color (apparently my warming up to pink doesn't go that far).  I guess it's just a bad night when Meryl Streep is best dressed.  She and her daughter looked lovely.  Kim loved Marisa Tomei's Versace and although I thought the bottom was gorgeous - I hated the part on her shoulder and was distracted by how the way the material was cut flattened her chest. But she looked good.  Glad Angelina did her hair and got those emeralds out of the safe - but the dress was snoring.  Penelope Cruz was fine but that Balmain was just a bit too 1980s prom dress for me.  But again she looked pretty - four carat diamonds also help.  Halle Berry can't look bad so that doesn't count.  And Nicole Kidman has worn that dress before except it didn't have ribbons hanging off the bottom.  But to be fair, Diane Lane and Robin Wright Penn both made me feel good about aging - they looked fantastic but in mostly boring black.  For all of these reasons, anyone who wore Dior Haute Couture wins.  I had to go back and forth with the images this morning, but when I awoke all I could remember was SJP, her right breast and Marion Cottilard.  I must like belts was my first thought.  But then after further investigation their couture was pretty much the same (which by the way makes it NOT couture) - cut slightly different on top but one was white and one was black - tons of tulle and a cool belt.  I actually think Cottilard wore it better but that's because of her necklace which I support with strapless dresses (Amy Adams' 45 pound chain of stones does NOT count).
                                                 

I hated Jessica Biel's dress and her just-got-out-of-the-pool-with-Justin-Timberlake-hair. Also, I hate her.  But it was no House of Dereon nightmare ala Beyonce.  Melissa Leo should steer clear of brown on the red carpet and should probably get a new beautician as well.  Frieda Pinto could throw on a tshirt and jeans and look better than most but I kind of hated her Galliano dress on her.  I wonder how that dress might have looked on someone older with a figure - like Kate Winslet or Helen Mirren perhaps.  But it wasn't right for a 21 year old petite supermodel.  But it wasn't as bad as Miley Fucking Cyrus - but nothing is.  Though Tilda Swinton and Sophia Loren and Shirely Maclaine tried to outdo her bad, they belonged there.  Cyrus did not!  In fact, I would put her in the same camp as the Hobbits last night - an esteemd group led by Christopher Walken, Adrian Brody and Phillip Seymour Hoffman who tried to go incognito as an urban poet but he didn't fool me.  Mickey Rourke is like the king of ugly with that silver tooth and dead dog around his neck (no offense to dog lovers).  I bet that the party goers looked way better than the attendees but I'll have to wait for more of this pics to be published.

Oh - and if you're wondering what that third dress is up there in the picture line - that's MY Dior Couture - at least what I would have selected.  And I think we can all agree, I would have been lovely - maybe even the best.  As Kate said - we all have a dream.

Warming up to Pink

I have a pretty recognizable style when it comes to costuming.   Often close friends will comment "that looks like you."  And Laura used to be perfect at quickly reprimanding me with a "you have six dresses just like that".  But there have always been a few rules when it came to my closet - 1. no pink and 2. no jeans.  I just don't like pink - never have - probably because my room was pink when I was little.  And I hate the way I look in jeans (note: I do own jeans but I rarely buy new jeans - this a polarity with Laura's shopping tendencies).  So I'm not sure if it's the altitude, the new spring offerings, the doom and gloom over nearly everything else in my life that could use a little color or perhaps I'm just changing my mind - but I'm totally warming up to pink.  These are just two reasons why.

My Girls

I don’t really believe in coincidences – I kind of think what is meant to be will be and all the good and all the bad was already predetermined – no matter how badly you try to screw it up.

Ten years ago I was there on opening night when Sex and the City started on HBO.  Instantly I knew that Carrie Bradshaw and I – although quite different – considering me married in Indiana and her single in New York – were one in the same.  The generous used to even say I resembled her – not her tiny body but her face.  You couldn’t say anything more flattering to me.  When the show ended I cried.  I think I watched the finale weeks later alone – I just couldn’t let my “friends” go.  I remember Eric telling me I would find new friends.  He of course was right - I mean Grey's Anatomy and Gossip Girl had yet to air.  But what he didn’t say was you have those friends in real life already.

When the movie came out last summer, I must have gotten a dozen emails asking me what I was wearing, who I was going with, didn’t I love it?  I never went.  I blamed it busy-ness and no babysitters – but in reality I just couldn’t bare to lose them all again.  Then it came out on video and I still didn’t get it.  But finally despite me moving my netflix que around it just showed up a couple of weeks ago - just two days before I was leaving to see all my girlfriends for a baby shower.  Perhaps a perfect time to watch it on the plane in transit.

It took me five days and four planes to finish it.  I had to make it last as long as I could so I could linger on every word – just like the show.  I have 12 friends – four times more than Carrie (not counting Stanford and Anthony) – I’m the only one that wears ballgowns and feathers and no one has a Dior bag.  But we hug, laugh, cry, and drink just like them.  We have history like them. But we rarely see each other.  No one can meet me for brunch or help me clean out my closet.  So as much as I loved to linger on Carrie's heartbreak and all the fantabulous fashion that surrounded it all, it made me miss my girls even more.

And a funny thing happened at that shower - my dearest friend Michelle who would only compare me to Carrie Bradshaw if she was tripping and falling - told me the night before she had watched "Nick and Nora's Infinite Playlist" (which oddly I have seen) and she said, "You know her drunk friend they kept losing - did that remind you of anyone?"  I honestly asked who - because Caroline was a lush - tripping all over the city vomiting in random bus stations - I mean I don't recall anyone like that in my and Michelle's world. She laughed, pushed my shoulder and said, "YOU!" 

Well they both start with C.

I am not a killer after all

One sort of odd thing about me is that I have a very real fear of rampant vegetation like ivy for instance and how it just grows all over and sprouts suckers to ruin the paint on my fence and house forcing me to use muscles to remove it.  Totally disgusting.  Sometimes even sprouting flowers and vegetables gross me out - I just want to see the finished product and then let it stop growing - at least before my eyes.  I blame this Sidney Sheldon book I read in high school that was all about the brains behind vegetation and it's sudden rise to take over the world.  Makes my skin crawl thinking about it.  So, obviously I'm not a crazy plant person and my thumbs are very peach - not green.  Therefore, if I acquire a plant or flower I never feel bad if it dies because I just blame this relationship - I mean they likely sense my fear.  Plus if they die then they won't take over my living room and strangle me in my sleep.  (I never said it was rational.)

Soooo - for my birthday in August I received the most beautiful orchid from my agency.   I tried everything to keep it alive - even researched online how much to water it and stuff.  But within six weeks all the petals fell away and i was left with a few leaves and some bare branches.  I even told people I killed it.  But then I noticed some weird finger looking things growing by the leaves.  It was the creepy sign of a plant growing.  So I gathered my fear and started watering it more regularly again.  Honestly I'm not sure what I was expecting.  But last week after returning from a short business trip, I literally gasped out loud when I saw THIS!  Now I have two flowers and they are as pretty as when they arrived.  Just in time for my half birthday next Wednesday!

On Being Useless

I wrote this yesterday - I'm happy to report that it appears my office has their connection back but it doesn't really matter because I'm at home today with a sick kindergartener which has reminded me that I'm not that useless.

Soooo - I'm on hour six without access to the internet at my desk.  The word "digital" is in my job title - I need the bloody internet.  But you don't really realize how badly you need it until it's gone.  I mean I have endless industry newsletters to read.  AND President Obama is totally in Denver today and I can't see or hear or read anything about it.  Imagine the new Jimmy Choo's that Saks is emailing me about that i can't see.  And what about any new pictures of Facebook.  Things are changing at a rapid pace - and I'm just sitting here staring at a "could not load" page.  AND it's Fashion Week for the love of Marc Jacobs - I'm missing the Fug girls update on Roisin Murphy's hairdo.  Not to mention the possibility of an eight hour delay in finding a new job posting.  UGGGG!  Totally useless day.

People that know me well know that I don't react well when technology fails me (unfortunately no one at work knows me that well so they can't figure out why I'm so distraught).  My heart rate and blood pressure increase, I start to sweat - it's like a big anxiety attack.  I just hate feeling so disconnected and that aching feeling of missing something.  But I think the real reason I freak out is because it is simply supposed to work.  And when it doesn't it reminds me that things break, shit happens, computers crash.  Frankly, I prefer to count on that NOT happening because in the land of pending job loss when phones never ring and no one ever responds - I need the normal things to be normal.  However, I promise not to care if lying on a beach, at the movies, wandering aimlessly through the mall or on a date with my endlessly patient husband.