I Saw What I Saw....

Saturday, May 21st, 3:00 to 6:00 pm.

This afternoon, as sun threatened to turn to clouds and rain, it being the advent of the Rapture and all, I threw on my butter yellow Tom's shoes (last year's linen series) and headed out to run an errand at The Plaza Hotel based Leather Spa.  The ever charming Wilson works there and now that the Superintendent in the building next door to mine has retired without consummating his 25 year long overture of love for me, Wilson could soon replace him.  He has professed love for me for only a year but his ardor is growing with each visit and the visits are more frequent now that my friend Sharon is newly engaged, newly employed and no longer able to come to my rescue with the critical pick up and drop off runs. You get only thirty days to retrieve your footwear repairs so timing is of the essence once you get the call from the Spa that they are ready. Add to this that it could be the last day of the world, and you have a heightened sense of urgency to collect your personal effects and prepare for your journey to the next life.

Where was I? Ah, I hopped on the subway to 59th Street, then headed down Central Park South. The world was outside to enjoy the miraculous appearance of the sun.  Amidst the throngs of people dashing about, I could not help but be struck by a few new Summery looks in the sea of nautical stripe stories which have been repeating themselves daily thus far this season:

I spied:

1. one peachy floral gowned Asian beauty with her suited up beau on the 96th Street station tracks waiting for the local train. Although I missed the photo opp, the site was beyond cinematic.



Orla Kiely "Multi Stem" print,
copyright Orla Kiely



2. many pairs of jeweled flat sandals on leggy girls in short shorts all along CPS.

3. too many Orla Kiely bags slung diagonally over shoulders but the prints are admittedly a stand out.

4. a smattering of polka dots but lots more will come, mark my word, seeing as how we are in the mood for prophets today...

5. and the eye of the storm, eyelet! it was everywhere!  black eyelet peasant top on a bronzed Latin woman outside the MAD museum; white eyelet pleated skirt on a graduate posing for family photos; ecru linen shorts with a scalloped eyelet trim on a twenty something crossing Colombus Circle; red eyelet dresss on a girl at a hot dog cart; whte ruffle edged top on what could have been her twin strolling North (and do not get me started on hair styles or the prevalence of straw fedoras...)

By the time I had gone to Leather Spa and walked back up to Time Warner Center, a new wave of looks had surfaced, themes shifting like the editorial pages in a magazine. It was all about the bold and the beautiful and evocative of exotic and far away places....

1. a gorgeous accordian pleated maxi dress in a strong tribal print outside Marea. black, red, orange colors stood out, lush like a Gauguin painting.

2. a long ink blue and white handkerchief hemmed scarf skirt at the Circle, suggestive of Azulejos tiles from Portugal.




from Wikipedia, Azulejos, file history:

Information |Description=Panel of glazed tiles by Jorge Colaço (1922), representing Henry the Navigator at the Sagres Promonory. Lisbon, Pavilhão Carlos Lopes. |Source=self-made |Date=June 2007 |Author= Alvesgaspar|

 

3. a striking pair of black and white Ikat inspired lace ups on one daring dude, graphic and tribal.

I hope that tomorrow comes because aside from the fact that Spring seems to have finally sprung, there do seem to be a few fall forecasts already on the street which would be fun to follow -- easy nubby wool drape dusters, top handle saddle bags, and I had to blink twice, thrice, but I reckon I am right by now when I recognize a poncho....

Amen.

An American Idol

April 26th, A/A 9:00 a.m flight 336 LGA to ORD:

A tall, silver haired attendant named Natalie, sporting cat eye specs and clogs with her standard navy and gold uniform,  is busy meeting and greeting her First Class guests this morning.  There must be a new, first name basis protocol in place by the airline:

"Hello, I'm Natalie."

"Hello, I'm Natalie."

"Hello. You look so much like my dentist from L.A." she tells the passenger in 1A.

"Hello. Wendell? I'm Natalie," to the gentleman in 2B.

"Would you care for an omelette this morning?"

"What is in it?"

"Wellllll, eggs to start.."



"That jacket looks well on you," the bobbed British blonde (looking a bit like Blythe Danner on a bad day) comments to her in flight colleague just before take off.

"Yes, it does," Natalie replies from the First Class galley.

"Because it's lonnger," the blonde adds.

"I saw one lady wearing it belted and it looked just awful,"  Natalie notes.

"You've got it all going on ....Your looks, your figure (pronounced 'figga')," Blythe comments admiringly, the years showing on her unmade up morning face.

Wendell in 2B is not pleased with the talk, shakes his head, pulls out his earphones and cranks his ipod.

Break in dialogue as we take off.



Upon the pilot's signal that it is safe to move about the cabin, Natalie enters the lavatory.

When she comes back out, her colleague exclaims,"Lovely!"

In Natalie's case, it seems you are never fully dressed without a smile, a fresh coat of red lipstick, and a rhinestone barrette, placed purposefully atop the crown of your forehead, catching a few strands of almost shaved silver hair, not too unlike how a shnauzer might look upon being groomed for Best in Show. 

"Well, with this short hair, I never feel fully dressed until I add this," Natalie states pragmatically.

She is now ready to resume service rounds, clanging pots, pans and utensils in preparation.


"Cereal or an omelette," she approaches each of us again, trays in hand, seemingly having forgotten how the meals have been allocated based on her pre take off interviews.

"Nothing, thank you," I say.

"Oh, you are on a diet," she notes gratuitously.

To the passenger who awakes behind me, she prods: " Alright, Hal, it's about time... I'm Natalie. Cereal or an omelette?"

Beverages get served and trays delivered until Natalie suddenly indicates that she has gotten the orders wrong from the start and has run out of cereal. 

The natives are not pleased, my fellow seatmate deciding to abstain altogether, shaking his head, partly amused, partly disgruntled. "She is something," he mutters under his breath.


Natalie retreats to the galley to resume her chat with Blythe, who comments about returning home to the East coast of London after a year and how much she is dying to have fish n chips. 

"Just once a year!" she declares longingly, as if to ask permission.

They speak about boyfriends, travel, and of course, fashion, and by the time we touch ground at O'Hare, Natalie caps the morning conversation with an editorial on the coats she re-distributes to their rightful owners.

"I love your coat!  What a beautiful color!" she says of the Chanel puffer jacket belonging to the woman in Manolos in 1B.

Of course! It is silvery grey, just like Natalie's coiffe.


Go, Natalie!  You are The American Idol, pushing 70 and in it to win it!

vintage, silver painted plastic American Airlines stewardess pin, 1960's, as found on www.etsy.com

   

moving pieces

(events drawn from the first week of march)

******

you must use your imagination.

here she is, my neighbor, yellow coat, pink wool gloves, mint green plaid scarf, coral cotton canvas tote, knit cap, iridescent drop earrings, blowing across west end avenue at 98th street, stopping midway, arms outstretched towards me.

would you like to have breakfast? have you eaten today? i am going to breakfast.

i clasp her hands and say yes, i have eaten but we should do it another time.

suddenly we realize cars are moving and i grab her hand and lead her to the other side of the street before we both get killed.

you look like the Easter bunny, i tell her, like Spring!
i am going away but am back in a week, lets make a date for then!

maybe, she says with a suddent hint of resistance, or perhaps even uncertainty.

if you can fit me in, i suggest.

it depends on my body, she says, almost as if confessing.
i have been indoors with an arthritis attack for a few days this last week.
today i need to get up and move.....

okay. i say. fair enough.

and we part, she continuing east and i west.

fair enough. to be out and about. to move. now. today.


******

here i had been thinking since returning from the Georgetown store of my current favorite items, the Etro turtle and fish pendants, each sort of hinged with articulated pieces to allow them to move - fish to flip, turtle almost to crawl.

this in turn brought to mind a vision of my Great Aunt Bettina, who would wear a monochromatic uniform of camel cashmere pants and turtleneck and then layer on something unique collected on her travels, like a jewel encrusted cameo that flipped over to reveal a watch, or a Chinese snuff bottle on a silk cord, an impeccably placed lynx hat atop her head most of the time to add height to her barely five foot tall frame. it worked. she projected huge style.

******

i had been thinking of the celebrated classical dancer Jacques d'Amboise who took the stage a few days ago to share excerpts from his memoir, I Was a Dancer. he spoke with humility and joy of his formative years, including the secret to a good pirouette. "Nijinsky flewwww," he whispered softly. "You never saw him prepare." 

he told of an injury to his bicep sustained early in his career while catching his partner, leaving him without full motion in one arm. but, dance he did. on this particular evening, he offered us a performance to introduce a future generation of young dancers, the perfect living legacy.

******

i had been thinking of the striking installation going up at Frederico Seve Gallery on west 57th street. it caught my eye as i came off an elevator, a series of framed flora-montages wrapping the white walls of the fourth floor space. created by Mariana Vera, a self taught artist from Colombia, some seemed to dance on the page, mesmerizing patterns, color in motion, or in the artist's words, "visual poetry" constructing a kind of order from ephemera collected from the natural world.

(photo of Stemmed Spiral montage by mariana vera 2010, coral plant on paper, from frederico seve gallery site www.latincollector.com)

Gathering Parts was the name of the show and though i would not be in town for the opening reception later in the week, the images stayed with me and i envied those who would enjoy a few hours amidst the rose petals, potato vine, garden cosmos, and bougainville.

******

i am thinking about my mother's healing wrist, the mysterious pulled muscle in my left side, a dear friend's broken rib suffered during a recent fall.

i am wondering how my neighbor is feeling now and if perhaps she would like to don her yellow coat and have breakfast with me tomorrow.

******

chicken or egg?

last sunday, in the meatpacking district.... Stella seems to say it is all about the egg, or at least, the egg cartons....

i could stop right there if i were a minimalist but since we know i am not....... on to Little Marc on Bleeker Street, witness to a pre Easter escapade involving a jumbo egg, deluxe bunny and two mysterious egg toss types......

then it is Once upon a bunny at Once Upon a Tart on Sullivan .....

year of the rabbit at Vosges, Soho......

radishes at Radish, Williamsburg.....and carrots and lettuce, too.....

and bespoke Peeps in tuxedos at Jacques Torres, cheaper by the dozen, i think, and possibly hatched at Stella?

a penchant for plaid

yesterday i attended a beautiful memorial service for our dearest family friend, a man whose loving and good nature touched many lives profoundly. as illness started to weaken him these past months and weeks, i started thinking of all the memories and images i associated with him. while his grandchildren yesterday recalled with smiles his famous red corduroy pants, i had been thinking about his penchant for plaid, which he wore so well, and always around the holidays.

it so happens that plaid is making news for Fall 2011 in both menswear and women's apparel.  take a peek at Libertine's graphic greys and acid pop mixes and know with certainty that tradition and innovation live on in a simple woolen textile that dates back over 3000 years. (http://www.tartansauthority.com/tartan/the-birth-of-tartan).

no doubt our friend Nick, who among his many hobbies, skills and talents, knew how to knit, needlepoint and hook a rug, would get a kick out of seeing these looks go from the runway to the street come September (photos from http://www.style.com/).

of course, we might see a touch of vivienne westwood on the red carpet as soon as tonight....

Guadalajara Won't Do

It is Monday, February 7th. Me and my mariachi band ride the 1 train.  The band squeezed between the doors at 72nd Street, the accordion player standing just beside me and the guitarists down at the other end of the car.  This is the same 'sign' I have had for four and a half years now, my personal harbinger that I will be reporting for merchandising duty soon in Punta Mita, where every evening, a similar such ensemble convenes in more formal fashion in the hotel bar for an energy filled round of song and sound.

A little mood music? A reminder of some sort to reconnect to this distant locale? I don't know but it never ceases to amuse me and it happens without fail, and always the day before I am traveling.  In this case, I am leaving in just a few hours for Chicago, then on to Colorado, and will take four different flights on Valentine's Day to reach my final destination.

It is Sunday, February 13th.  From my current perch in Vail, I want to post on my blog today in the spirit of an 'ex-voto,' which for those not in the know, is a wonderful type of painting, usually on tin, popular in Latin American folk art and dating back to the 18th Century in origin.  Ex-votos differ from purely devotional 'retablos' in that they tell stories of 'dangerous or threatening events that actually occurred, and which the person survived, thanks to the intercession of a sacred person- God, Mary, or a Saint."  (see http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Retablo.)

Here it goes and Godspeed to me on my travels tomorrow:

Please Saint Valentine, in hopes that my flights are all on time and that the plane in Mexico lands in Vallarta and not in Guadalajara like the last time, when for some reason unknown and unforeseen even by the pilot, the ground crew in Vallarta decided to work on the tarmac to do a repair and none of the incoming planes could arrive for several hours.... and that the merchandise arrives safely and on time, or just arrives at all, please Saint Valentine, and then do I thank you humbly for the privilege of working with all the team in Punta Mita to make the Boutiques beautiful for our visiting guests.  And, Saint Valentine, when I return home to New York City, I thank you in advance for arranging that the red foil heart on my front door is still there and not missing like the small red and pink tin one that disappeared on Christmas Day.

Here are some hearts collected along the route from Vallarta to Punta Mita and a few from Sayulita, including a simple graffiti scribble for Valentine's Day: Love on top of Love!

You're Blushing

It is a new year, almost Valentine's Day, and things are looking rosy.
Which reminds me.....

Back in November, I visited the Kips Bay Show House. My hands down favorite 'room' was outside, off the town house kitchen, a simple gravel garden with a patch of green grass and a pink pergola of a sort. The scale was great and it just had a whole lot of attitude and really made me smile.

I wrote to my eleven year old niece about it, describing what an interior design show house was in the first place and allowing as how I did not really know if my discovery was by definition a pergola or not but that she could ask her mom or dad to google for more detail.

"Cool color," I gushed. 'Like a surprise and unexpected and amusing!'

Charlotte wrote back, 'I love it its just a simple garden and then....bam!!!   its pink!!!!!!!'

'Your are SO right,' I replied.

'Its so pretty!!! I wish we could have one, but I dont' know how the rest of my family would feel about pink.'

I dont' know either, really, but during the weeks of snow we have been having lately, I found myself trekking up Park Avenue with my rose colored glasses anew, gazing upon Will Ryman's Rose Garden, featuring voluptuous petals that seemed to kiss the snow, to blossoms that reached to the skies, complete with the requisite garden beetle and, I admit, just a few thorns.

Think pink, folks!  It's perfectly pertinent!!