goodbye 2010

and good riddance! you fucking sucked.

i should have put a genius from the apple store on my xmas list

I can feel my machine slowly failing, one step at a time. swollen battery, dead ethernet port, gray screen of death a couple times a week. I need a new computer, yet i have zero dollars. hmm. backblaze and some cleaning up of the applications folder might solve a few issues… but yikes. the good news is there are only 3 days left in the year; the bad news is there are only 3 days left in the year.

on my to-do list: get corporate sponsors, for life.
1. apple
2. pantene pro-V
3. bombay sapphire gin

everything else is negotiable.

so fucking sick of the holidays already

bring on 2011. this fucking year sucks.

things santa will not be bringing me

a cupcake apron

a custom personalized ice bucket

pink typewriter stationery


some sort of trapper hat since i seem to have very rashly gotten rid of mine -- the warmest things i have ever owned, what was i thinking?


a vintage ceramic zebra


a bar cart


a pretty illustration of an alexander mcqueen shoe


a sequin purse


a turquoise blogging caftan


a golden goddess blogging caftan



a floral blogging caftan


vintage vespa


“Remember that not getting what you want is sometimes a wonderful stroke of luck.” -- the Dalai Lama

i know everyone thinks their kid is the cutest kid

but i swear Mole is so freakin handsome in his new Christmas sweater I can hardly stand it.

wtf

each day is more insane than the last! this year needs to end already.

bullseye

holiday crap gets old quick but target has two pretty great spots right now.

"toy jackpot" runs backwards, from finish to start.



"electronic santa" is everything a chromeo/daft punk/deadmau5 lovin' gal could want.

little jerk

what you resist will persist

when life is stable and steady it can be nice yet dull. when life is a roller coaster twisting and turning and looping around, it can be exciting, but accompanied by dizziness and nausea.

we all have our patterns.

some things persist.

i was reading the interview with Michael Alig from earlier this year and thinking, wow, the things i've seen. growing up in new york in the 80s and 90s. i love my friends, love them, but they're mostly new to my life… no one can even understand what it was like, really. it's impossible to even describe. making out with some dude from humanities at marc ballroom, seeing andy warhol at the flea market on columbus avenue, shopping at patricia field on 8th street, seeing terence trent d'arby at the world when you're underage and there's mystery liquid dripping from the ceiling. the koch years, the dinkins years. cbgb, limelight, the tunnel, sticky mike's frog bar, club usa and a whole bunch of other places that don't exist any more… my homes away from home. palladium is an NYU dorm now, the amazing pool hall on that block, Julian's? long gone. Trader Joe's moved in. but it used to be a city of gritty hide outs, nooks and crannies. more mixing, more diversity. most nights out, you were likely to see a drag queen, russell simmons or both. free booze at outlaw parties, making friends with weed dealers in the meadow, $2 whiskey sours at howard johnson's in times square. no one remembers. i remember.

but we all have our patterns.

we all have scenes that get replayed. sometimes the characters are the same but the backdrop is different, sometimes the characters are new, the setting is new, but the words are the same. the things you try and run away from follow you. what you resist will persist. there are only 36 plots in the world.

my pattern, my go-to scene, the monologue i have memorized, the clip that will always, always make it into the director's cut is this: i want more. i always want more. bigger better faster richer farther hotter. and, all praises due to the voodoo priestes: happier. happier. and i can't stop won't stop, even though i'm exhausted and everyone's gone.

completely unrelated: pomade has officially made a comeback. i thought it was just the boys in my little galaxy, but it's definitely a thing. dudes doing dax daily. it looks good, i'll give 'em that. but damn if it doesn't stain a girl's pillowcase. ask yourself this, ladies: is it worth it?

less than 25 days

until christmas. time to freak out.

eating and sleeping

really can't recommend it enough.

dreaming is free, real estate is expen$ive

friday night i had drinks at the plaza, where i haven't been in a million years, even though as a child i wanted to live there, like eloise, and my highschool prom was held there. on the way home i walked by gainsborough studios.

there are certain nyc buildings with which i am obsessed. gainsborough studios, located at 222 central park south, is one of them.


built in 1905, the top of the building has colored moravian tiles on the façade, a bust of landscape artist thomas gainsborough above the entryway as well as an "allegorical frieze" depicting people involved in the arts.



according to nyc architecture the building has "only 34 apartments, most with spectacular, double-height living rooms facing north towards Central Park."

candice bergen used to live there, and her apartment was on the cover of architectural digest in june of 1979… which, I believe, may have been the month and year i moved to nyc as a kid.



the images from that 1979 issue of AD happen to be online, and holy mother of manhattan is that some real estate porn. jesus chrysler building.









even though the style is a of the era, the windows! the staircase . THE VIEW.

click to enlarge and/or wet your pants.

incidentally, candice bergen now lives in los angeles. but her daughter, chloe malle, lives in new york. and if you look closely at the windows behind her this vanity fair profile from january of this year it is fairly obvious that she lives in gainsborough studios.



interestingly enough, chloe malle is a writer with a real estate column in the observer. real estate!

the dog days are NEVER over

chicks. and dogs.





jayne mansfield and her chihuahuas 1956




billie holiday and her dog mister 1947



ebony by erté


gloria grahame and poodle, 1946


mole's new sweater october 2010

aloha means love

back from hawaii, where everything was gorgeous and perfect and idyllic and amazing. and i swam with a sea turtle.

lax

yes i know i have been lax. in the words of kurt vonnegut, busy busy busy.

thought of the day:

do what you have to do
so you can do what you want to do

plum.

burberry prorsum fall 2010.

dead on.

yes, they are rings.

sometimes j'adore dior

drawn.

i posted these images from h&m magazine today, and not everyone was loving the illustrations by Lisolette Watkins. i think they're amazing. i went to the tim burton exhibit at moma over the weekend, and what burton and watkins have in common is a defined style. when you look a tim burton's stuff, you know it's him; same here. do i have this in my writing, i wonder? do i need it? anyway, visual stimulation is always good. i used to read drawn! all the time, maybe i should start up again.

more from Lisolette Watkins here.

they say the neon lights are bright on broadway the LES

the space above the television has been just a plain white wall for the past 11 months we've lived in this apartment. the rug is a rectangle, the TV is a rectangle, the couch is a rectangle and all the of the framed pieces above the couch are squares or right angles. i really wanted something with curves to go above the TV. at first i thought i might do something round, but gradually realized i was dying to have my own neon sign -- in a curly, cursive script. there are tons of sign stores in this neighborhood, and it's expensive, but not as expensive as i thought it might be. once our custom sign was done, the boyfriend and his handy drill made it happen.





















it's amazing. and it looks better than it photographs.


all i have to decide now is whether to paint the wires white.

as for the bedroom: no progress.