It’s been many moons since I last lauded lace and gave you the opportunity to tip the scale of life’s pro and con list.  Today it continue to lean in favor of, well, favor.  Here we are again, and I find myself with an awesome opportunity to give you an early look at up-and-coming cartoonist/illustrator Rebbecah Mary Hartz!   Take a look:

Come back to NYC, Beccah!

Her unique, contrasty style and acerbic wit come through the ubiquitous designs that Hartz has produced commercially for apparel, posters and invitations.

She also just posted a new photo blog.  Be careful, it will burn your face off!

M

All this morning I could not stop googling pictures of antique lace and lace fabrics, but I wasn’t really sure what I was looking for. I think I’m just really excited about an imminent hot summer trend and the potential garments I will make incorporating it.

M

Party time! C. Ronson produced a line of affordable (?) clothes for JC Penney and all its consumers who don’t know who she is.  But don’t worry they weren’t invited to the totally superfluous party heralding it.  And since you little people obviously missed it, or the notion of its existence entirely I’ll take you through a play-by-play of Style.com’s SUPER FUN coverage.  Feel free to open it up and look along with me I <3 JC Ronson: 

1. Yay! Family reunion with our Mom, Dee Snider!

2. Sting’s daughter unwittingly leaks his surname, killing him instantly.

3. No. Just no.

4. Monet Mazur looks super cute.  I am excited to replicate that outfit this summer.  Those shoes better not be mules.

5. Paris! What the fuck! But it’s really nice of you to make your sister’s ugly-ass outfit look stylish!

6. Yay people looking good.  They look like they’re in on some kind of joke, aka why they are at this party. I’m just gonna pretend Paula’s dress is not denim.  And Rashida is so cute and also normal but I’m gonna try not to hate her.

7. I don’t know who you are. Why are you here? Moisturize your legs! Your dress is eh…

8. Milla is the most adorable mom ever! Seriously, I saw it on TMZ!

9. I don’t know. Your parents hate you.

10. We get it you’re a douche.

11. People even Perez Hilton doesn’t care about, such as Michelle Trachtenberg’s goth twin, are there. And they might be wearing rompers.  

12. Speaking of [conjoined] twins.  Also, come on Nicole.  Are you trying to fall on your face with your draggy things and your pointy heel bits.

13. People still care about Cory Kennedy.  She still looks like a kindergartener who dressed herself. As my mom used to say, “It’s a good thing she’s cute!”

14. I like your jacket, Model Who Needs Eyeliner.

15. Is that girl on the left related to the new American Idol judge.  

16. Love Rashida! She should be Rachel Zoe’s stylist.

17. Molly, Molly I like your outfit a lot and I love your bag, but Honey, you are not 19.  Also, why is everyone boycotting eyeliner at this shindig?

18. Girl, what? I know you want to be the sexy one for once instead of always being the funny one but you look kind of like Michelle Obama with that dress and ‘do.

19. Is this the girl from The Like? I can’t even remember if that band really existed or was just a figment of my imagination. OH MY GOD, IS THAT A LEATHER CAPRI JUMPSUIT. Shit! From your pose it also could be a leather bathing suit over pantaloon set. You look like you know what you’ve done. Although I don’t place the blame solely on you.  Whoever created that monstrosity should be sent back to Hell or Christopher St. And you’re already wearing a fucking leather outfit, you don’t need fetish shoes as well. We get it, you’re a bad ass. Fuck you!

20. The world hates Shenae Grimes.

21. Is this photoshopped from three different parties. It’s nighttime dude, put away your pretentious sunglasses. I think Mark Ronson was watching Jerry Lewis’ original Nutty Professor movie earlier because his resemblance to Buddy Love is uncanny. Case in point: Is the last guy wearing sweatpants?

22. The Lovely Rashida candidly catches Nicole after she trips on her draggy things and spiky heel bits.

23. Charlotte, “I had the best time ever! Wait, what the hell is JC Penney?”

Ahh, it’s like we were there.

M

It must be really inexpensive or something to get married in the wintertime because otherwise I cannot understand why anyone would do it.  It’s like a practical joke on the sanity of the wedding party and the wardrobe of the guest list.

This morning I ventured out into the freezing rain of NYC to dry my clothes at the laundromat because it would not happen in my apartment.  As I was being transformed into a slush puppy, I was thinking about what I could possibly put on for the wedding I’m attending this evening that wouldn’t get trashed between my front door and the car door.  

Worst nightmare.

It’s enough that you to forsake the idea of warmth (and usually comfort), but then there’s the matter of carrying another set of shoes (if you’re not traveling by car you end up checking your life’s possessions).  Also, when mascara starts making a break from the eye area the result is not an eccentric new trend – but at least you can pretend they are tears of joy for your dear friends on this joyful occasion.

So essentially this is a memo to my nearest and dearest.  If you want me to come to your affair, and not ruin the photo album, make your romance in May over December.

The soggy couple.

M

Walking home the other night I saw the greatest scene in the Moonstruck Diner on the corner.  Five Santas, in varying degrees of dress, were relaxing and jovially conversing over coffee and fries.  The Santas were of both genders, multiple ethnicities and assorted ages.  I wish I had a camera, but I had run out of the house without even my phone.  It was awesome to behold this remnant of the Tompkins Square parade personifying the holiday cheer and uniqueness inherent in this city.  A Christmas miracle indeed!

M

Somehow along the way and during my many hurried, tedious trips to the Midtown garment district I have become friendly with a very unusual character.  Elliot is a middle aged man with the characteristic mid-age traits – silver hair, receding hairline, distinguished beer gut – as well as some features that are all his own.  Every time we have crossed paths he has been wearing tall black boots (almost knee high) with white laces all the way up.  They are allegedly unisex but feigning on the side of feminine.  He favors T-shirts with catch phrases, and prides himself on being a snarky and quick-quipped conversationalist.

Elliot works in the downstairs upholstery section of Mood, the famous fabric superstore from Project Runway fame (although lately it has not been living up to its reputation).  He has helped me locate and obtain swatches upon swatches of velveteen, raw silk and multiple courderoys. I think our idiosyncrasies are drawn to each other so over the past month or so we have established an easygoing and enjoyable repor.

I did not realize we were more than acquaintances until one day on my way to pick up finished dresses from the factory I passed Elliot on the sidewalk, leaning against a building having a smoke.  It wasn’t even on the same street as Mood.  I stopped for a couple of minutes and we had a little chat and then I continued on my way.  Of course my relationship to Elliot consists solely of small talk and sarcasm, but it is more stable than some of the other new friendships I have started into with peers.

Today I was at mood to get some swatch of 1/4″ well courderoy.  My boss didn’t yet know what it would be for so I was kind of at a loss.  And as I paced the aisles I noticed that I was not the only one looking quizzical.  Elliot sauntered over, looked down at my legs and said, “Now THAT is weird!”  I was wearing a pair of Cynthia Rowley tights that had one black leg and one blue one.  ”That is one of the strangest things I’ve ever seen, and I’ve seen a lot.”  I found that hard to believe that my mismatched legwear was more unusual than other over-the-top New York street style but I took his word for it.  I replied, “I don’t know how I should be taking that.”  He chuckled as said, “Strange is always good… at least to me.” I laughed because I totally agree.  Let me rephrase that, I USUALLY agree.  I’ve soon too much troubling situations in NYC to make that blanket statement.

Maybe I was asking for the remark, because throughout the day my legs kept grabbing attention.  At one other fabric vendor, two employees who did not speak English very well kept pointing, trying to flirt with me and then insisting that I was from a different country.

My stockings really turned into a social experiment of sorts.  I did reckon that New Yorkers (and our visitors) could be so easily shocked.  I must say it was a strange discovery.  But as we have learned, strange is good.

UPDATE: I googled images of two-tone tights and when I dragged the black and blue one to my desktop, the file name was my birthday.  STRANGE!!!!

My tights (not my legs)

M

Hi,

I have been very very bad.  I was afraid to look at the exact date of the last time I updated this page, and I loathe making these statements, so let me apologize.  I won’t go into it, but I have been busy interning, working and putting together a portfolio.

And speaking of interning… On Monday while I was putting in my time at Cynthia Rowley the salesman in the boutique downstairs called up to my boss to say that there was a commotion in the store because of the presence of a certain celebrity scientologist mommy.  Katie Holmes (and I assume Suri, but I couldn’t see out the upstairs window) were browsing at my place of employment.

I’ve never seen paparazzi at work before; it was a very bizarre scene.  I saw only a glimpse of Katie’s helmet hair because she was flanked by a tight huddle of photographers.  They were surprising close to her.  It was actually kind of outrageous that it is allowed.  The little swarm moved slowly up the street, half blocks at a time, surrounded by the unassuming sunlight and bare streets.

Bare streets that is except for the part of the street directly across from the moths and the shiny star.   What I really saw first when I peeked out the cutting room window was about 25 people, mouths gaping, stopped in their tracks in the middle of the side walk.  They stood still like that, rubbernecking and craning, for at least 10 minutes.  It was so frustrating to me.  Why and how could people have nothing better to do than be nosy?

That was possibly more troubling than the paparazzi.  I assume the people passing by actually had work and lives and schedules and they just shut down to stare at people staring at somebody else.  Why? Why is the general public so obsessed with being spectators instead of actually doing? How will it change your life if you see Katie Holmes for a New York minute?  We have enough slow-walking tourists as it is… This is the city that never sleeps, so go do something.

Katie, Suri and Friends

M

Ow! I don’t know why I didn’t expect that everyone working at a fashion design company would be decked out in 3 inch heels everyday, but they are.  Seriously, EVERYDAY.  Tiny Cynthia Rowley is running around in the cutest tights strapped into skyscrapers, strutting up and down 4 flights and I can’t even take the train to work in wedges.  Each morning I covertly remove my Keds slip-ons a block away and cram my feet into the least treacherous heels my collection includes.  And the ruse is successful! Twice I have had my shoes (and thus my efforts) commended.

But I am literally suffering.  These are hard times for my toes-ies.  I think my feet grew a half-size this summer but I can’t afford new shoes (which is psychologically traumatic enough), so one day I HAD to stuff my poor toes into these pretty hot peach snake skin rounded pumps, tied with some plaid ribbon I found in lieu of the white misplaced laces they came with.  Bad idea! My right big toe was numb for the following TWO DAYS.  I actually thought I was going to need to seek medical help for my high heel related ailment.

Also, the constant and prolonged cramming and stuffing and pushing and banging has made the tips and ends of my toes super-sensitive, leading to an even worse injury I sustained on Friday night.  I was hopping into bed when I slammed my big toe head-on into the jagged metal corner of my bed frame.  Needless to say, it killed, but I thought all I needed was ice so I limped to the kitchen to throw a box of spinach on it. That is when I looked down and notice that the skin was shredded atop a slowly accruing pool of bright bright blood.  I don’t usually cringe when I get hurt, because I am so accident prone, but this one actually grossed me out.  Luckily the Neosporin was where it should be and I had the sufficient 15 bandaids to cover the wound and keep it in place for the night.

It was pretty unfortunate the next morning when I got dressed to go to synagogue and was in too much pain to put on ANY of my closed shoes – I tried many.  It was chilly and I had to wear sandals and socks – I DO NOT DO THIS.  I did not feel like changing my outfit so I ended up looking part Japanese tourist/part 50s schoolgirl.  The whole experience gave me a new look but not the sophisticated fashionista one I was going for.

I believe that one day my dream of finding tall, comfortable, goodlooking shoes will come true, or at least by then I will have a driver…or a really strong and patient boyfried.

I want them!

M

My friend writes the blog TV Fairy and just posted this awesome clip: http://tvfairy.blogspot.com/2008/09/amazing.html

As much as she is trying to make me an avid fan of the show from whence it came – It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia – I just don’t find it that funny… in Philadelphia.  

But nevertheless, this is the kind of stupid schtick that is for some reason hilarious.

M

I have about a half an hour left to an exceptionally compelling film that I’ve heard about often from my parents and their friends, but had never seen until now.  The movie I am referring to is the 1993 release Philadelphia, starring Tom Hanks and Denzel Washington.

I’ll give a very brief synopsis for those of you who don’t know:

Tom Hanks won an Oscar for his portrayal of Andy Beckett, a homosexual manwho is fired from his law firm because he contracted the AIDS virus.  Denzel Washington plays Joe Miller, an [originally] homophobic little-known lawyer who is the only one willing to make a case for wrongful dismissal.

Obviously I am very pro gay rights and equality, but that does not even have bearings on how good this film is. Every actor really gave his and her all to make the story believable and to bring out the compassion of the jury as well as the viewers, including a swoon-worthy Antonio Banderas who plays Beckett’s partner Miguel.

Philadelphia proves that you don’t need a big budget, impressive scenery and sexy starlets to make a great movie.  In fact the spareness of the material and cinematic trappings of the film help underscore its touching plot and profound message.

Also, there is a pretty amazing joke about Philadelphia being the City of Brotherly Love.

I like this painting of Philadelphia by William C. Ressler

M