Vitrine magic

I always love the vitrines in Paris. Moschino's salt and pepper rainstorm is no exception.


And back here in New York, Christian Louboutin's pompadours of red-heeled magic are no less charming.

French advertising (ahem)

Those Frenchies. They have a way with words. They have a way with style. They can make chocolate and wine and cheese like nobody's business. They're graceful, sophisticated and oh-so-charming. So why is their advertising so atrocious??

I mean, not that there's anything wrong with silly little girls or monkeys picking through someone's mop of hair.

But, seriously? This is 2011?

I might be offended if it weren't so ridiculous.

What gets us through in life

The best friends in the world. On a perfect autumn weekend.

The ballet. Champagne and cocktails. The Dutch—twice.

Karaoke. Shopping. A walk along the High Line. Sleeping in. Spontaneous dance parties. Peeing-our-pants-laughter. Crying on each other’s shoulders—and feeling almost healed by it.

A little MC Hammer and Michael Jackson. A little more wine and bananas foster French toast.

A weekend that couldn’t have been any better.

A must read

The rest as they say,
is history. Crepes is coming with me to Hollywood.
She will compose
the music for my movie.
Our last day in Paris
we led the Dog Day Parade.
I read the poem I had written for this occasion:
In chic Paree
the chicest day
is when the dogs stroll down
the Champes Elysées.
Great danes romancing,
pink poodles prancing.
It’s swank
it’s grand
it’s pooch couture.
They saunter with style
about half a mile and end up at Maxims,
that most marvelous spot
for champagne and caviar
and a little whatnot.
A toast to life
A toast to love
Salut! Olé!
We’re off to L.A.!

My friend Sarah sent me the cutest card with this poem. Smitten as I was, I had to find out just who was Crepes, who was talking about Crepes, and who was prancing around Paree and going to Maxims! Turns out, it's Max. Max Stravinsky, the canine hero of Maira Kalman's adorable picture book, Ooh-La-La Max In Love (I like the title of my book, but dang, that's a good one!).

Has anyone read this? I think it's a must for all of our bookshelves...

My Vegan Mondays

I did my Vegan Monday today but rather than bore you with the soy milk, roasted broccoli and couscous salad details, I will wax poetic about my meal at Blue Hill at Stone Barns yesterday.

I’ve wanted to go to Stone Barns forever. Different friends have been over the years and I knew it was a special place and experience. The whole premise of Dan Barber’s restaurant is that they grow and raise all the food that’s served there right on the farm—ye olde farm-to-table principle.

From turkeys and lambs…


…to herbs and veggies…


There’s also a market and casual café to score delicious goods, as well as a children’s camp and educational center.

And after all the years of yearning and hype, what can I say? The place did not disappoint.

It was a glorious autumn day, with pretty foliage brightening up the rolling hills and pastures.


I was with two of my best friends in the whole world. We drank wine in the middle of the afternoon. I was a happy girl.

The meal started with a flurry of playful amuses bouche.

Including beet burgers with shots of “V-9”…


… salisfy encrusted with sesame seeds…

… yukon potatoes with crispy sage, and a wee radish that you dragged through a decadent salted butter.


The first course was a lovely beet salad with mache, arugula, radish and greek yogurt….

…followed by a pistou soup holding a crusted egg.

The girls were treated to pork, while I got chicken.


And can we talk about how insanely delicious the bread and butter was??

(Yes, we must because it was some of the best bread of my life...)

Au finale, dessert: a perfect apple tart with ginger ice cream. My favorite course of the meal.

Though my birthday cake did steal the show and make my day.


If all food was grown and produced as it is at Blue Hill at Stone Barns, I wouldn't have to do Vegan Mondays.

Banner birthday weekend

Friends.


Family.


Entertainment.

Gorgeous weather.


And a feast.






It was an amazing birthday weekend that went from Bathtub Gin to Blue Hills at Stone Barns; from Balthazar to Minetta Tavern; Priscilla Queen of the Desert to Soho strolling.

Every weekend should be so beautiful.

Snapshots around New York

I’ve been working so much lately that I feel time and life are just whizzing by and I’m doing nothing interesting. But then when I think back on the past few weeks, I realize there are so many great things and moments that would only happen in New York.

Like the “psycho opera” Stop the Virgens at Saint Ann’s Warehouse. Add Karen O to my Chrissie Hynde and Debbie Harry rocker-chick girl crushes. She's just amazing and her voice makes my stomach flutter. And waiting to go in, we checked out this awesome structural sculpture with pulsating LED lights and electronic music.

And the perfect finale to the evening, we had a most fabulous dinner at Jack the Horse Tavern. Heaven.

(Speaking of sculptures, isn’t there something amazingly noble and artistic about this can collection?)

Then there was the freak snowstorm last Saturday. While the big, wet flakes downtown didn’t really accumulate, by the time I went uptown in the evening, there were piles of snow and puddles of slush. Still, there's something sort of fun in the chaos and messiness of storms in New York.

(Keihls! I’ll only have to be reminded of Christmas for the next 50 days!)

Whether it’s full or just a wee sliver, it’s always so romantic to look up at the NYC skyline and see the moon. Especially when there's some iconic building below it...


Paris, je t’aime. New York, I adore you, too.

Someone get this guy a book contract!

A friend forwarded this to me last week, making me laugh out loud about six separate times. It was allegedly posted on craigslist. It is undeniably hilarious.

Yoga mat for sale. Used once at lunch hour class. Usage timeline as follows:

11:45a
Register for hot yoga class. Infinite wisdom tells me to commit to 5 class package and purchase a yoga mat. I pay $89.74. Money well spent, I smugly confirm to myself.

11:55a
Open door to yoga room. A gush of hot dry air rushes through and past me. It
smells of breath, sweat and hot. Take spot on floor in back of room next to
cute blonde. We will date.

11:57a
I feel the need to be as near to naked as possible. This is a problem because of the hot blonde to my left and our pending courtship. She will not be pleased to learn that I need to lose 30 pounds before I propose to her.

11:58a
The shirt and sweats have to come off. I throw caution to the wind and decide to rely on my wit and conditioning to overcome any weight issues my fiancée may take issue with. This will take a lot of wit and conditioning.

11:59a
Begin small talk with my bride to be. She pretends to ignore me but I know how she can be. I allow her to concentrate and stare straight ahead and continue to pretend that I don't exist. As we finish sharing our special moment, I am suddenly aware of a sweat moustache that has formed below my nose. This must be from the all the whispering between us.

12:00p
Instructor enters the room and ascends her special podium at the front of the room. She is a slight, agitated Chinese woman. She introduces me to the class and everyone turns around to greet me just as I decide to aggressively adjust my penis and testes packed in my Under Armor. My bride is notably unfazed.

12:02p
Since I do have experience with Hot Yoga (4 sessions just 5 short years ago) I fully consider that I may be so outstanding and skilled that my instructor may call me out and ask me to guide the class. My wife will look on with a sparkle in her eye. We will make love after class.

12:10p
It is now up to 95 degrees in the room. We have been practicing deep breathing exercises for the last 8 minutes. This would not be a problem if we were all breathing actual, you know, oxygen. Instead, we are breathing each other's body odor, expelled carbon dioxide and other unmentionables. (Don't worry, I'll mention them later.)

12:26p
It is now 100 degrees and I take notice of the humidity, which is hovering at about 90%. I feel the familiar adorning stare of my bride and decide to look back at her. She appears to be nauseated. I then realize that I forgot to brush my teeth prior to attending this class. We bond.

12:33p
It is now 110 degrees and 95% humidity. I am now balancing on one leg with the other leg crossed over the other. My arms are intertwined and I am squatting. The last time I was in this position was 44 years ago in the womb, but I'm in this for the long haul. My wife looks slightly weathered dripping sweat and her eyeliner is streaming down her face. Well, "for better or worse" is what we committed to so we press on.

12:40p
The overweight Hispanic man two spots over has sweat running down his legs. At least I think its sweat. He is holding every position and has not had a sip of water since we walked in. He is making me look bad and I hate him.

12:44p
I consider that if anyone in this room farted that we would all certainly perish.

12:52p
It is now 140 degrees and 100% humidity. I am covered from head to toe in
sweat. There is not a square millimeter on my body that is not slippery and sweaty. I am so slimy that I feel like a sea lion or a maybe sea eel. Not even a bear trap could hold me. The sweat is stinging my eyeballs and I can no longer see.

12:55p
This room stinks of asparagus, cloves, tuna and tacos. There is no food in the room. I realize that this is an amalgamation of the body odors of 30 people in a 140 degree room for the last 55 minutes. Seriously, enough with the asparagus, ok?

1:01p
140 degrees and 130% humidity. Look, bitch, I need my space here so don't get all pissy with me if I accidentally sprayed you with sweat as I flipped over. Seriously, is that where this relationship is going? Get over yourself. We need counseling and she needs to be medicated. Stat!

1:09p
150 degrees and cloudy. And hot. I can no longer move my limbs on my own. I have given up on attempting any of the commands this Chinese chick is yelling out at us. I will lay sedentary until the aid unit arrives. I will buy this building and then have it destroyed. I lose consciousness.

1:15p
I have a headache and my wife is being a selfish bitch. I can't really breathe. All I can think about is holding a cup worth of hot sand in my mouth. I cannot remember what an ice cube is and cannot remember what snow looks like. I consider that my only escape might be a crab walk across 15 bodies and then out of the room. I am paralyzed, and may never walk again so the whole crab walk thing is pretty much out.

1:17p
I cannot move at all and cannot reach my water. Is breathing voluntary or involuntary? If it's voluntary, I am screwed. I stopped participating in the class 20 minutes ago. Hey, lady! I paid for this frickin class, ok?! You work for me! Stop yelling at everyone and just tell us a story or something. It's like juice and cracker time, ok?

1:20p
It is now 165 degrees and moisture is dripping from the ceiling. The towel that I am laying on is no longer providing any wicking or drying properties. It is actually placing additional sweat on me as I touch it. My towel reeks. I cannot identify the smell but no way can it be from me. Did someone spray some stank on my towel or something?

1:30p
Torture session is over. I wish hateful things upon the instructor. She graciously allows us to stay and 'cool down' in the room. It is 175 degrees. Who cools down in 175 degrees? A Komodo Dragon? My wife has left the room. Probably to throw up.

1:34p
My opportunity to escape has arrived. I roll over to my stomach and press up to my knees. It is warmer as I rise up from ground level - probably by 15 degrees. So let's conservatively say it's 190. I muster my final energy and slowly rise. One foot in front of the other. One foot in front of the other. Towards the door. Towards the door.

1:37p
The temperature in the lobby is 72 degrees. Both nipples stiffen to diamond strength and my penis begins to retract into my abdomen from the 100 degree temp swing. I can once again breathe though so I am pleased. I spot my future ex wife in the lobby. We had such a good thing going but I know that no measure of counseling will be able to unravel the day's turmoil and mental scarring.

1:47p
Arrive at Emerald City Smoothie and proceed to order a 32 oz beverage. 402 calories, 0 fat and 14 grams of protein -- effectively negating any caloric burn or benefit from the last 90 minutes. I finish it in 3 minutes and spend the next 2 hours writing this memoir.

3:47p
Create Craigslist ad while burning final 2 grams of protein from Smoothie and before the "shakes" consume my body.

4:29p
Note to self - check car for missing wet yoga towel in am.