Tuesday, October 9, 2012

It's baaaaaackkkkk

2012 Neiman Marcus Christmas Book arrived via email this afternoon. I did what any normal red blooded woman would do...screamed with excitement, pushed my work off my desk, and devoured every damn page. Obviously, Mr. Neiman and Mr. Marcus paid attention to my posts from last year, because as soon as you open it they hit you with fantasticness.
Pink and red British themed clutch from Alexander McQueen complete with rhinestoned skull? Uh yeah. I'm going to need that.  Page 8 and 9 are filled with scarves by Missoni and barware from Waterford (did NM get a hold of my diary?) that are all beautiful. Some cute Cole Haan riding boots are previewed on page 10 and make me curse my shock-putter-esque calves. Seriously, I hate them. Because if I didn't have them, these Stuart Weismann button up boots would be on my person. I LOVE these boots. And compared to other boots this season like them, they are relatively cheap. I mean, they are still $700, but it could be worse.
But no one really cares about the "small ticket" items. The fantasy gifts are where it's at...
First up -  the French chicken coop. I'm not making that up. Who the hell would want that? For a good laugh though, read the description on the website. It actually makes it sound delightful. And take a look at the pictures. I'm sure my cocks would want china hanging on the wall. Thank god I don't eat eggs.

The jet pack reminds me of that Arrested Development episode with the "moles".  Sigh...I love that show. This is actually a pretty good gift. You can go up to 80 miles on one tank of gas at 32 mph. Do you think that I could fly the 6 miles from my house to work? Would I invade some sort of Capitol airspace? I really need to look into this. And with my $100k purchase, the thoughtful people at Neiman's will donate $2500 to the Boys and Girls Club. If they were really thoughtful, they should just donate one of these packs to them. They could charge $2500 a ride and make bank.

Years ago, NM sponsored a Mercedes G-Wagon that was tricked out in black and chrome. I sweated that truck like it was my goddamn job. Keeping with that same theme, this year it's the McLaren spider in "Volcano Red". While it's beautiful and you get a free trip to London to meet the CEO of McLaren, I just want a G-Wagon in volcano red.          
The his and her's Van Cleef Parsian themed watches are pretty amazing.  I actually really like them. Like really (hint, hint). And you get a free trip to Paris and Geneva. However, I just realized that the price was A MILLION DOLLARS and not $19,000 like I originally thought. I obviously missed a couple zeros. I'd rather just have some Van Cleef alhambra earrings and perhaps a necklace.
But the gift I covet this year, is this bananas tailgate trailer. Of course I would need an old school Woody to match...and would need to dress in nothing but Ralph Lauren country wear. And it comes with a year's supply of bourbon. JACKPOT. I wonder, though, if this means they give me a giant case or if I tell them how many bottles I will need in a year. Cause obviously they haven't seen grandma pound back her nightly bottle of Virginia Gentlemen. That's like $150k a year right there. The tailgait would pay for itself very quickly.

photos: neiman marcus

Wednesday, October 3, 2012

chanel - o

I was sitting around yesterday after viewing the Chanel show praying that someone would highlight the amazeball accessories so I could do a post. And last night my prayers were answered. Fashionista posted close up pics of all the deliciousness and while I'm not sure that Karl created these or if his accessories department did, I'm giving him all the credit. Shall we see what I'll be jonesing for come February?

I'm going to hit you first thing first with my FAVORITE piece. One, j'adore the color. Two, lego inspired? Yes please! Karl, you fucking genius you, this has me written all over it. Is that a button in the middle to open it? Like a secret treasure?

Next up, the crazy hula-hoop bag. I know what you are thinking, but haters gonna hate. Redirect your hate towards something else. This is innovative, adorable, and totally made me dead. I want the large version for my beach bag and the red one for everyday. TGD - this is calling your name!

Karl was obsessed with pearls this time around. I was with him until he started pulling out the jean dress  with pearls glued across the top. Yuck was the only word I conjured up. The third necklace down is straight up murder.

And finally, the 80s throw back to Rubik cube inspired quilted bag. Very United Colors of Benetton.

I love them all Karl...almost as much as I love you.


photos: Fashionista, Chanel

Tuesday, October 2, 2012

reading rainbow

I love to read...I really do. The latest thriller, congressional reports, blogs, magazines, Basel III for dummies. You name it, I'll read it. I guess I'm from the old school where reading is knowledge and everyone knows from GI Joe that knowledge is power. So inside the knowledge that the October issues of Elle and Vogue provide, both had things I felt like I needed to mention.

First up, Vogue had a huge spread on Congresswoman Debbie Wasserman Schultz. I could only make it through about half of it, mostly turned off at the very beginning showing what a great mom she is by having 2 of her 3 children running around her congressional office while she gave the interview. It reads like most congress interviews - she's super special and super smart and she's the best person for the job. I have to wonder if her opponent in the 20th district of Florida will get the same fan fare from Vogue? Isn't that a rule somewhere? Actually, I don't really care about any of that because I mostly wanted to highlight what one might look like before the Vogue stylist gets to you....
And then after....
I really couldn't believe the pictures when I read it. I think I stared at her pic for a good 5 minutes before declaring that the american people should pay for her blow outs every damn day. She looks fantastic. I'm totally going to ignore the fact that she states that she hated herself when she was a size 8 and had no energy and that, praise be, she is a size 2 now. 
Another thing that will make you VOL - vomit out loud (totally copywritting my genius), this Dear E. Jean letter. I think E. Jean is a hack who sits around and writes these ricidulous "dear abby" type of situations that would never occur in a million years. Like, dear E. Jean, my boyfriend has no job, no car, and no money. He's been living off of me for a year. I totally love him tho. What to do?" - signed I'm a frittata in everywhere, usa. And then E. Jean will give her some stupid fake advice, like, it's totally okay. Just let him sit his fat ass on your couch watching Regis and Kelly and eventually he will wise up. RIGHT. Whatever...off subject. Read here and see if you can contain your emotions till the end....

Dear E. Jean: I’m a 34-year-old Internet entrepreneur and angel investor. Can you help me find a woman? What I’m looking for is a life partner— not the "mother of my children." Anyone who aspires to be a housewife is automatically eliminated. The women I fall for typically intimidate men. I suppose the easiest way to summarize is to say that I’m seeking a smarter, hotter, younger, female version of myself (smile). I’m cognizant of the fact that ultimately I’ll fall in love with the woman and not the checklist. So without further ado, here’s the perfect girl for me:

•Out-of-this-world intelligent and passionate

•Ambitious and extremely independent with eclectic and diverse interests

•Not needy, high-maintenance, jealous, or requiring constant attention (I suppose it goes with “extremely independent,” but it’s worth mentioning)

•Very adventurous—loves to backpack around China, for example

•Supersexual and sexually adventurous, multiorgasmic through vaginal sex

•On the Pill


•Very thin (but not because she’s starving herself or has food issues—I want someone who will be thin her entire life)

•Small breasts (usually come with "very thin")

•Gorgeous (symmetrical face and features)

•Loves big dogs (but not small dogs or cats)

•Atheist, agnostic, or not religious




•Does not want kids in the next five years
•Is in her twenties
•Plays tennis very well, helicopter skis, and is dying to learn how to kiteboard
•Speaks French perfectly
•Plays video games (maybe I am asking for a bit much here :) )
Historically, the women who’ve been the best girlfriends for me have been entrepreneurs, lawyers, consultants, doctors, bankers, writers, university professors. That’s not to say there aren’t extremely smart, passionate, ambitious girls who are models, work in marketing or PR, or teach K–12, but it’s just less likely. From a looks perspective, I’m pretty agnostic when it comes to hair color, eye color, etc., but I do have very specific tastes: They run to Kate Beckinsale, Diane Kruger, Izabel Goulart, Eva Green, Joanna Krupa, and Odette Annable. I’m also including the pics of my most serious exes so you get a sense of what the girls I really liked look like. Where can I find her? —The Great Gatsby
E. Jean’s note to readers: When I mentioned the "multiorgasmic vaginal sex" requirement to a friend, she said, "Ha, ha, what an asshole."

"But he’s one of the richest men in New York!" I said. “He has too high an opinion of himself,” she said. "Naw," I replied. "The man’s simply saying what most men are thinking but are too politically correct to admit."

Anyway, I’ve met this fellow. After a wild midnight dinner at Cipriani with a half-dozen tech-start-up guys, I vaguely recall asking him what he was "looking for" and promising to "set him up." Three weeks later he pinged me his list. And now…my answer:
Gatsby, You Handsome Idiot: You made your first million two years out of Harvard. Run the search for your "life partner" the way you run your business. Hire a researcher, a PR director, and a COO, and put them to work recruiting. By Thanksgiving you’ll be kiteboarding off Fiji with a flat-chested tennis player. Now, shall we break it down?

The Researcher registers on Match, JDate, eHarmony, OkCupid, and the like, slogs through the thousands of profiles, and selects promising candidates. (This process is so tedious I suggest you hire two interns at $25 an hour each to assist.) The researcher also scouts prospects by dropping by the ladies’ lounge in Bergdorf’s; attending parties at the Harvard Club; and making appearances at gallery openings, polo matches, Stanford charity runs, croquet competitions, fashion shows, and political fundraisers; and creates a master list of 24-year-old Parisian nymphomaniacs who run corporations. (As this list of candidates will amount to only five women, the researcher will "broaden the base.")
The PR Director gets you invited to posh parties, arranges for flattering stories about you to appear in The New York Times, and puts out the word that you’re giving an Aston Martin to the person who keeps the most women away from you. (This counterintuitive move will inspire the imaginations of ladies around the world.)
The Chief Operating Officer, aka your matchmaker, vets the top 40 women nominated by the researcher and PR person, adds three or four selections of her own, and arranges the introductions. When choosing a matchmaker, go with the best: Amber Kelleher-Andrews at Kelleher International or Amy Andersen at Linx Dating. They handle high-profile humans whose lists of demands make yours look like Jean-Jacques Rousseau’s. If you want a younger, cooler matchmaker, try my little Tawkify.com.
P.S. About those photos of your extomatoes: I was braced for inhuman beauty. After a glimpse, I can say I'll eat this four-pound September ELLE if you don’t find a woman with whom you can be happy. The ladies in these pictures are lovely, but it's clear you prize intellectual and sexual chemistry above appearance. I like you the better for it! Give me your hand. Good luck!

So basically this douche wants a supermodel that doesn't speak (unless it's french!), eat, hates God, barely breathes, and can jump out of a helicopter on demand. Ladies - if ya'll know anyone that fits this description, give a holler to E. Jean.

And I'm out on this dreary Tuesday,
photo: vogue

Monday, October 1, 2012

a case of the mondays

Goodness gracious. Mondays are the worst. All you want to do is leisurely break into the day, maybe hit up lunch early...stay longer than usual, hit the afternoon meetings and then head the hell home. But noooo. This Monday meant it. Maybe it was to get back at me complaining about not working for the past 6 weeks. Whatever it was, I'm over it.

Lots to talk about. LOTS. First, this is the best time of the year - apple cider, leaves turning, and the tv shows are back (though Honey Boo Boo is over. Sad face like for reals)! Second, Anne Hathaway got married this weekend. Third, Lindsey Lohan was choked. While I shouldn't joke about that, it is so justifiable that I don't think anyone will hate on me.

So many new tv shows last night to count, but on Thursday Scandal was back. I have to admit, even though it is flawed, I really was looking forward to the premier. First, ABC needs to realize that no one cares about the Quinn story line. She is the worst actress in all of the actresses in all of the entire world. The pits. Miserable. Trash. Think of a couple more adjectives for awful and you will get the picture. Making up for her miserable excuse as a human being, is President Tony Goldwyn. Man, he is so good looking I can barely follow what is being said when he is on screen. Olivia keeps running around doing her weird walking, the cameraman is still having a stroke, and the FLOTUS is preggers and wants to paint the nursery in blood red. Congratulations, I think you might raise a serial killer. Paint it green or yellow. Hell, I'd even do an orange before red.

The Good Wife also premiered. Nothing really new to report...Alicia is still cold, Kalinda is still a weirdo bi-sexual wearing skirts, boots and leather moto jackets (CBS, I beg of you. PLEASE change her outfit. XO - the whole wide world), and Will is looking botoxed to hell, but adorable.

HOMELAND. Ya'll, I can't even tell you how excited I was for this premier. I don't want to spoil it for people who don't have the tv watching stamina I posses, so I'll keep it short and simple. We're back after, what 6 months? I couldn't figure out the timeline. Brody is now a congressman (lord, can you imagine the nut job of a boss he would be?), Saul is in Beirut, and Carrie is living with her sister and trying to get back on her feet after being booted from the CIA. She's called back to help with an asset and as such she needs to dye her hair brown. I got to tell you, this was the most disturbing thing of the episode. Claire is so a summer. This was mostly a catch up episode so not much happened, though I did have one "oooohhhh shittttt" moment. Speaking of shits - that daughter of Brody's needs to be disciplined. And hard. If I had spoken to my mother the way she speaks to hers, I would have had my throat ripped out through the skin. You think I'm kidding, but I couldn't more serious. Heart attack serious.

Now...onto Anne Hathaway. Ya'll know I hate her right? Like irrationally hate her. I think it's because of her lips. Or maybe it's her nose. Or maybe it's because she's the most annoying person on the face of the earth. (ok...maybe second behind my sister) My tanned, yacht owning, South of France sailing, friend Valentino let it slip a couple weeks ago that he designed the dress. I wonder if he's taking responsibility for that awful head gear?

I think poor Anne is going to look back and wish she had gotten some extensions for her awful hair. Or at least have waited another 6 months to let it grow in more. And is it me, or is that dress have a pink hue to it? I mean, we all know she isn't a virgin, but damn A, you don't have to parade it around. Personally, I want my dress tinted blue. Very light so that after I walk by you squinch your nose up and say "is that dress blue or white?" Always leave them guessing... 
So now I'm guessing that Valentino has finally succumbed to sun poisoning and it's seeped into his brain. That's the only thing that can account for this monstrosity of a dress. I gotta say, it just makes me dislike her more.

Happy monday!