Tuesday, August 10, 2010

Some Mood Music....

Let me just slip into something a little more comfortable, and put on some mood music.


My friend just introduced me to what I find to be the best thing in the free music universe since Pandora.

www.stereomood.com is genius.

Interestingly arranged are a multitude of moods (and even activities) that link you up to playlists. No need to make your own playlists on iTunes and scrounging for what may be a limited selection of songs for your "OCD Flipping Out" playlist...now you can just click on "cleaning", and all is well.

I've always had the complex of whether or not I should write in complete silence, or to some alternative Arcade Fire-ish renditions. Fear no more, liberals with your MacBooks in Starbucks, stereomood.com offers a "writing" playlist.

Some tags that were noteworthy are "Alseep on my feet", "Driving Route 66", and "Let's Knit"!

I assure you they have a wide arrange with "Drunk", "Pump up the Volume", and "Beach Party".

I feel like I might just be way behind the music scene...but I've really enjoyed the site, and I hope to let others know the glory that is stereomood.com!!

Tuesday, August 3, 2010

Nails: This Is Real Life, Guys...




A proper opossum pedicure-- I know right, me too, finally instructions on how to give a opsossum a pedicure. You can all sleep well tonight.


If you are stressed out about what to paint your nails with, don't worry. Have a grape. Or, wear the OPI Hong Kong Collection.

OPI Hong Kong nail polish collection



I love color nomenclature. It's one of my very favorite pastimes. I've told a select few friends that next to being a professional writer, professor, and tap dancer extraordinaire, I'd consider naming polish colors for OPI to be my dream job.

Color definitely has an instantaneous affect on people. The visceral reaction that I get from color has always interested me, and I am trying to learn more about color theory to understand it. But what's even better about color-- are the puns that come with them!

My favorites?

"Bling Dynasty". Why? Because it's the marriage between urban hue and irony with a Chinese allusion.

While "Pearl of Wisdom" is a pretty sheen, the viscosity of the paint does not coat the nail thoroughly.

But my favorite color coupled with a hilarious name is "A Good Man-darian is Hard to Find". Punned after one of my favorite short stories by Flannery O'Connor, this vibrant orange is as fresh and memorable as the citrus counterpart!

Friday, July 23, 2010

An Honest Connection: Nathan Veshecco Releases New Album, “Love, With Questions”


By Christine Deakers

Harrisburg, Pennsylvania—When intellect melds with thoughtful and soulful balladeer capacity, an audience has songwriting at its purest, where gimmick is left behind, and the stage is swept clean for just a voice and a guitar. A centered wordsmith who relies on what he knows, Nathan Veshecco, 27, questions as he composes.

“Love, With Questions” is Veshecco’s fourth album. This Rhetoric major from UC Berkeley puts his degree to work. His evocative lyrics link to smooth and catchy melodies with rifts that whisk a listener into the rhapsody of his velvet voice. Convincing, yet clear of disingenuous charm.

In his understanding and self-awareness he imbues songwriting with unpretentious poignancy. Perhaps this wisdom comes from experience. He’s proclaimed to have had a time where he felt like he had something to prove. Earlier records, he proclaims, were stylistically all over the place. But he’s pared away the excess since then.

“I've found a much simpler, more honest and hopefully, more humble way of communicating through song,” Veshecco says.

It’s his confidence that’s so appealing, and when it comes to style, “it's all about comfort… If [he’s] ironically fashionable or at least decent looking in the process, that's the cherry.” But his down-home, comfortable style isn’t the cherry on top, but rather the pit of his persona.

The found, and quiet confidence fills in the skeleton of “Love, With Questions” with muscular strength propelled by his inspirations that ever move and progress.

From a kindling phase where indie cerebral rock, like Rilo Kiley and Bright Eyes, bonfired an early foundation, he now says that stuff doesn’t do it for him anymore, but he looks back fondly.

He recognizes he’s changed, and possesses the power of his growth. An album based on questions, his inquiries on love and life do not pose as threats of incapability, but ways to understand.

For example, in his song “I Have a Question” he repeatedly refrains, “How do I lose love?” The line is provoking, being descriptive and intrinsic at the same time. These songs double not only as vessels for expression, but also vehicles to move forward. Veshecco uses the structure of a question to reconcile between his current emotions, and the struggle on how to be brave and start something new.

The jump between each of these ledges is the device of songwriting, in the work the sheet music, and reaching out to an audience. But where do these thoughts come from? Veshecco waits for them, as he says, like a teapot on the stove.

“The first idea is always inexplicable - it comes from nowhere, usually when I'm not looking,” he says. “It’s tough to force good songs. Most of my stuff comes in the shower or in the car. Once in awhile a conversation sparks something, or someone else's record, a movie, TV. So the bulk of my work is best described as ‘response’ to that initial idea.”

While the time, the talent, and the soul go into his work, these songs have a just scrawled on the edge of a napkin essence. “Love, With Questions” seems effortless, a compliment since the best always make it seem easy.

One song, in particular, entitled, “I’d Die”, is disarming and compelling for its relatable and light-hearted tone. It accounts the twenty-something, boy-meets-girl story, but Veshecco speaks his mind, without the sappiness. After a dynamic intro, a verse starts with, “You don't have to marry me/ Not tonight, it's not in sight/ Baby, believe my face/Things are getting hairy here/ Club is clearin', here come the lights/ I just wanna take you to my place.”

But quickly the verse transitions from bold audacity to a sincere promise as he addresses the listener, “trust me Girl, you can be free/ They've only given us this one life to fly”. His modus operandi is to encourage good songwriting, and he does so as he engages his listeners, and directly converses with them. He implores with an “us”, and suddenly the stakes are up, and the audience is involved.

Unique compared to many songwriters who almost sing like they are keeping a secret, Veshecco always wants his audience to be immersed, and in the know. Listeners are active participants with the music, and he never obscures his message, but always keeps people on their tapping toes with his fresh and forthright point of view on relationships.

Over Skype, in interview mode, Veshecco doesn’t take himself too seriously, in his bedazzled black-t, promoting a sparkling wine. A former wine specialist for J Winery, he sees his music like one of his idols, Marvin Gaye: through the grapevine. A lover of the “backroom” stuff, or in his words, "You know, we don't break this out for just anybody…" Veshecco is one of a kind. But when it comes down to it, he would like to be something for everyone. Veshecco’s a Pinot Noir at heart.

He says, “I'd want to be something that most people enjoy and have access to…I'd want to fit in well at my grandmother's highly Italian dinner table.”

The element that strings his work together is his independence from any bells and whistles. At its simplest form, the melody ropes him in. “It could be fifteen minutes of Flamenco Sketches by Miles Davis,” hey says, “it's still the notes that I care about way before I start thinking about motive, vibe, context, etc.”

His back to basics attitude lends itself not only to his music, but also to his personal life. It’s impossible to ignore that his connection to an audience may spring from his experience with his love life. “I can't tell you how much of my art has come from just beginning to understand the ways of being intimate.”

Collaborating with his girlfriend, actress, Taryn Sprenkle, they’ve seemed to have made a strong connection. Together on the album they cover the hit song from Broadway’s “Spring Awakening”, “The Guilty Ones”. Veshecco and Taryn look forward to new musical endeavors, no question.

Monday, July 19, 2010

Booty Pop infomercial/ commercial



The word "booty" and "bootylicious" has been used approximately 7,840,0293 times in the making of this commercial.

Is this honestly a joke? I'm not sure... I'm all for the padded bra, but this is sort of outrageous. I just may have to get one.

I'm sort of on the fence. While I want to laugh and throw those booty panties right out the window, I also want to slip them on, and try them on with the dress I'm wearing to my cousin's wedding...

How do you guys feel about the booty-popping derriere? The greatest thing to hit women's backsides since Flo Rida and Apple-Bottom Jeans?

Sunday, July 18, 2010

Designer Snuggie Commercial




My favorite quote: "When are you going to make something a little more stylish for me?"

A couple days ago, I was perusing my very favorite institution, Target, and realized the Snuggie is no longer just a Snuggie, but a Designer Snuggie. While this isn't hot off the presses journalism, it is a grand discovery for me. Perhaps if I just put "designer" in front of my name it would make it more valid.

Immediately I texted some friends with the news:

Press release from Deakers PR: Snuggies now have pockets. Function and fashion come to Target in holy comfort matrimony.

Responses were as follows:

"Have you come across luxurious microfleece with pockets? Heavenly!"
-Shannon Duggan, long time friend and fellow VIP

"Thank GOD! I've been holding out! Convenience finally meets perfection with Lady Gaga inspired R&R gear!"
- Lauren Klein, former roommate and first witness of my genius when I discovered the Snuggie could be used as a Lady Gaga Polar Bear-esqe cape from Bad Romance video.

"SNUGGIES WITH POCKETS? I'm so glad I've held off on buying mine because this is so much BETTER! GAH. I can't wait to parade around as gaga with you!"
-Dilara Cirit, soulmate, poet, and Snuggie enthusiast

"That is such fantastic news. Another thing to keep me from getting off the sofa...love it!"
- Haley, my incredible sister, and swiper of prized Zebra luxury.

"Holy shit."
- Graham Miller, long time supporter of my insanity, and aforementioned Beyonce impersonator.

Holy shit, is right. You may find the Snuggie to just be a piece of it-- just an over-size fleece robe. Or, we can exalt it for what it is: an extraordinarily ridiculous and simple invention functioning as whatever we wish it to be...ever changing, just how design always changes for our needs!

Monday, July 12, 2010

A Sickly Fashion Blunder and my Encounters with a Snuggie

*Warning: The discussion of bodily fluids occurs beyond this point*

I wish I were the type of person who would make trillions of dollars on something that had been soggy and hanging in my bathroom my entire life. Oh, it's so cold let me just slip this robe on backwards...BOOM. Cover of Forbes Magazine at 20.



My first Snuggie experience was a beautiful time in my life. While some first experience Snuggie with apprehension, discomfort, and, depending on the person, blood, I welcomed Snuggie with open arms, a deep burning desire in my loins, and serendipitously a little buzzed on Day-Quil, dressed as Cinderella in a Duane-Reade in New York City.

And so the genesis of my Zebra-print Snuggie begins....

Last October I went to visit one of my very best friends, Erin Douglass, at NYU for Halloween. I worked two jobs to pay for the trip all the while going to school at UC Berkeley, and living the "oh so glamorous" life that is Christine Deakers. One job was a PR assistant for a lovely bunch of Irish folk who had a great website company, and the other as a Security Monitor for the dorms. Yes, a Security Monitor. The latter job made me put oh so glamorous in quotes. (For the record, no uniform or sash of any sort was worn in the making of this cash money.)

Obviously, I was like any character in a J.Lo movie, a working woman, getting educated, and reaching for the stars to finally get to the Big Apple (cue montage reel as proof of my hard work, yet fiery personality).

I took a red-eye flight to NYC, got to Erin's dorm at the hairy arm-pit of dawn, and to my dismay, realized she didn't have a couch, but a pillow, 2-ply sheet of cotton, and a luxurious hardwood floor to sleep on.

But I was down. Nothing was going to change this trip for me. I had been looking forward to reuniting with my friends and gallavanting in NYC for sometime now. As the type of person whose New Year's Resolution is "be more spontaneous", I wasn't going to let this trip stop me from having the fun I planned, in my iCal, which I had printed out and made into an itneriery.

I was Mary-Tyler Moore throwing my hat in the air!




Now, cut to me waking up that first morning after our celebratory night of margaritas and Mexican food, pulling an Emily Rose right next to the mini-fridge. No this was not your run of the mill too much of a good time. This was your down home stomach flu, or what I thought to be my final moments on Earth. Alone.

Eventually, I flipped between dry heaving and spewing out what was surprisingly sweet bile over a communal sink. (I apologize for the location...I swear to god I cleaned up after myself, but as we universally have experienced, desperate times calls for whatever is closest!)

In between intimate sessions with any vessel to hold my own slop, I heard the pitter-patter of a beautiful Asian angel. This was it, the angel taking me away. She said her name was Boram, and I bowed to the ethereal creature, convenient with my crouching tiger hidden dragon position over the sink.

Later, I realized that Boram was none other than Erin's suitemate, who I so charmingly met.

The first two days consisted of Erin going to class, and me, Christine Rose inches from death, and mid-exorcism. I had planned on using those first two days to run in Central Park, go to the MOMA, and visit a former professor who now teaches at Columbia, but alas, I had barfing to do, people!

By the second day, of what I considered to be either a. a Guiness World Record, b. something to call the authorities on and 3. a budding past time, I thought, "Hey let's change it up, hm? Instead of expelling every liquid through the orifice that is my mouth, let's take something in, shall we?"

Operation Ginger Ale commenced. Here's a secret agent body scan:



Blonde maid's bun askew, (whipped up by what could be Wesson or my own lack of personal hygiene?)

Thick-rimmed glasses, of course, who are we kidding, at a time like this!

Berkeley crew-neck sweatshirt (I bring dishonor to the UC system...), navy blue, with yellow script, and UIS (unidentifiable splotches...)

Black American Apparel leggings, high waisted and to the ankles... not a good look.

To top it all off, I didn't have the strength to put on my own shoes. So I slipped on Erin's gold strappy Gladiator sandals, with my dingy socks, of course. At one time, probably circa 2006, they didn't look like Cujo had at 'em.

With a dollar twenty-fire in hand, I proceeded to the elevator. I was so close to my gingery goodness. Thankfully alone, I step in the car, hit the button to the cellar, and immediately regretted my decision to come to New York.

It was just within seconds of riding in the elevator from the 9th floor to the cellar that I cursed not only the God I believe in, but also technology, and the island of Manhattan. In the swirling mess that is my reality, I brought my unknowingly crunchy sleeve up my mouth as a preemptive protection of my humanity.

I got motion sickness between floors seven and six, and I was white-knuckling it.

The hell-damned elevator dropped me at the cellar, and as the doors opened I saw the illuminant contraption that cradled the elixir of fizzy life. Ponce de Leon could not find a better fountain of youth; mine lived in green rectangular beast with a neon aura.

But the ginger ale must wait, I thought. Now, on my knees, at the threshold, I crawled to my new place of refuge...the ladies room.

But oh my friends, I definitely did not feel like a lady, on my knees in a public bathroom (who would ever feel as though?). I was trapped with whom I considered to be my only companion, which, surprise, was my bile.

To say the least I was a weepy bag of slop, shamefully slipping my nickels and dimes into the coin slots and hitting some permutation of letter and number to get my bottle of Canada Dry. Did I even have the strength to twist off the cap to what could be my salvation, the grail I've been searching for?

When the elevator came back to pick me up from my utter demise, I didn't feel the need to explain myself to the non-descript, yet semi-attractive college boy returning from class. I was the poster girl of the Swine Flu. You could see it even in the corner of my mouth, the mist of ginger ale and saliva on my brim on my lip. Homeland Security was developing the "See Something, Say Something" photos for the subway stations across the nation. My face spread across every mid town bus. I could see it now.



"Woa," said the boy, whose face is rubbed out in my memory, "what did you do last night?"

I sighed, held onto the handicap railing, and braced myself for my trip up the ten floors. Although, it wasn't an easy trip up, I think the sheer fact that I didn't have anything left in my organs to shoot up my esophagus, left me thanking the Gingy Gods.

I left the blurry boy behind, just like the many Brawny paper towels I had used that week.

I made it back to the dorm, and lay comatose, until Erin came home from a day of classes.

Because I have incredible friends that do not shame me in my foreaken bodily functions, but who bring me soup, and fruit punch gatorade, and saltine crackers, Erin let me sleep in her bed for the spill of it all. Side note, never if under these circumstances eat Saltine crackers with any Gatorade product. No, you are wrong, it does not taste better the second time.


+

= NO.

A couple days after my Battle of Waterloo, my other best friend, Chelsea, arrived. I needed to start getting comfortable with the idea of sleeping on a hardwood floor again.

Chelsea was the priest to my exorcism, and brought a brightened attitude to the whole Christine Rose is no longer capable to survive on her own. The first full day she was there I was feeling like the flying Mary Tyler Moore hat. I was high. On Day-Quil that is.

But nothing a brisk walk in Central Park couldn't cure, a Magnolia's Red Velvet Cupcake, or a Kandinsky exhibit at the Guggenheim. Soon the three of us began our preparations for our Halloween extravaganza.



In the throws of it all, Erin dressed as a Nurse (a day or two late, and ironic to say the least), Chelsea as a Firefighter, and I as Cinderella. We sipped on our cocktails. Erin and Chelsea with their vodka and sodas, I, with none other than fists of Day-Quils and other cold remedies.

Other guests filed into the dorm room, one being a particularly good friend of mine my named Graham. He was dressed as Beyonce, from the Single Ladies video, and knew the entire dance to the T. How, you ask? He's been practicing it since June 2009.



Do I even have to mention he's a musical theater student?

A mocha colored foundation glazed his entire body, and a black leotard hugged and hid all the right places, if you know what I mean. When I saw Graham in that leotard with those stilettos on, I cursed the House of Dereon, for not giving me his legs, and an exact replica of the metallic claw Beyonce wears in the video. All made by his mother, biggest fan, Elaine, back home in California.

Whether it was the drag, the zombies that walked in, or my Day-Quil zingers, I needed to get out for some air. Chelsea so chivalrously accompanied me in her Firefighter costume to Duane Reade to pick up some cough drops, snacks, and anything we could find to make our Hallow's Eve slumber a little less spooky.

In the Halogen lights we meandered the aisles, searching for the aisle with "Inflatable Beds" headlining. We were down and out, just in the pits, looking for hope.

And there it was, in the bargain bin for $12.99. Dream in fleece and assorted colors. The Snuggie.


The embodiment of jealousy- yes.

As if it were match.com and Duane Reade knew in it's consumerism omniscience, Chelsea found a traditional, conservative, yet perfect pink, and I an alternative, yet down-to-earth zebra. Who knew that this trip would not literally be the time I come back to life, but find something I could spend the rest of my life with?

Chelsea and I didn't know what love really was until we swiped our credit cards with the Pirate's Booty.

Like we be in da club, I saw that Snug across the room, and then and there knew I was taking it home that night.

And yes, of course, right there we took those Snugs out of the box and wore them in the crisp October night. We figured it was Halloween in NYC-- we didn't look that crazy.

And so you have heard the tale of the great Snuggie. It still, to this day, travels by my side. From New York, to Berkeley, to now Los Angeles, the mythicism is ever potent.

Two semesters ago while studying John Keats and Palestinian education systems, I draped myself in my Snuggie as usual in my frigid apartment in Berkeley. As I took a break from the uplifting lessons that those former topics gave me, I decided to explore the world of Lady Gaga, and watch the Bad Romance video, for the seventy-third time that day.

When I saw how that Polar Bear dragged behind Gaga as she lit her lover on fire, I realized I had my own erotic, pyrotechnic costume. I flipped the Snuggie around like a coat, and walked the small length of my apartment like a queen. I insisted my roommate watch the genius I just unveiled. And then I asked her to watch again, with the music.

Once again the Snuggie has changed, once again, it molds to my needs!



But design always evolves. While I have the first generation Snuggie, times are changing, and with this ever burgeoning technology these days, the Snuggie geniuses have added to the fleece.

Thursday, July 8, 2010

Seeing Life Better: Photography

Yesterday, I had my picture taken by an incredible photographer named Lisa Roah. She not only has this brimming enthusiasm that makes you so excited and comfortable, but she also has the sharpest eye when it comes to capturing the moment.

Just as I was peering over her shoulder, I saw a few shots and realized how vibrant the images were.

I haven't been a connoisseur of photography for very long, and my research of it isn't as extensive as say, theater... but after going to a couple galleries dedicated solely on photography I've realized that its a unique art in that it, yes, realistically captures moments of life; but more importantly, and beyond that obvious fact, photography reels your eyes to a composition where you see the world better. Beyond 20/20 vision, photography can help you understand an experience that you couldn't have realized without the help of the artist and the art form.

Photo-journalism's importance and poignancy is clear with that trait. We learn through frozen scenes. We experience through images that simulate what we could see through our own eyes, and in that, we live what's on the page.

Check out Lisa Roah and her extraordinary work at www.lisaroah.com

Below are a few photographs that I just loved when I went to the SFMOMa. I have a huge affinity towards landscape and political California photography.


Henry Wessel, Southern California, 1985; gelatin silver print; Collection SFMOMA, Accessions Committee Fund Purchase; © Henry Wessel


A Women in Berkeley, CA

Dorothea Lange's photography epitomized the depression along with the struggles of the "Oakies".


William A. Garnett, Contour Graded Hills, Ventura County, California, 1953; gelatin silver print; Collection SFMOMA, Accessions Committee Fund Purchase; © Estate of William A. Garnett

Now for some color!

These are by another fantastic photographer named Simone Anne... www.simoneanne.com



Thursday, June 24, 2010

Diane von Furstenberg Party at the Claridge's Hotel in London

LONDON-Last night, Diane von Furstenberg and friends celebrated at the Claridge Hotel where she launched the opening of her suites. Exorbitant and print-filled, of course!

Redecorating a series of rooms in this classic Art Deco hotel, DVF uses this project as her first interior design endeavor. Despite being a neophyte to interior design, DVF prevails, backed by her impeccable taste in fabric, and what is now her own iconic prints.

Journalist Samantha Conti quotes DVF saying, "Like you, I’ve had affairs at Claridge’s, and I’ve done business at Claridge’s. If these walls could talk they would write books!”

Her long withstanding relationship with this glamorous hotel in Mayfair, as a guest and friend, provided a unique perspective when it came to the redesign.

Below are photographs of the party provided by www.vogue.it
Names in order of photos: Gywneth Paltrow & Madonna, Tamra Mellon, Christian Louboutin & Victora Beckham, Diane von Furstenberg & Natalia Vodianova, Madonna & Valentino





Wednesday, June 23, 2010

Airport Attire

On my way up to Berkeley, to see my exquisite friends, I leave LAX airport, with a single carry-on, and the tools any traditional style-anthropologist would have: a notebook, camera, and gold studded, leather braclet. I have many standards for myself, like kindness, manners, doing good for mankind, the whole lot, but presentable travel-fatigues are amongst the Deakers-Code!




Thou shalt not sport cloth of holes and tatter, ever, even if you are in economy class

It's honestly just something that's been conditioned in me-- I see how tempting One-zie pajamas with bunny slippers are when a flight to Shanghai is in the near distant future, but there is always a better alternative.

As a daughter of a Delta Airlines pilot and flight attendant, I was required to dress appropriately by company regulations whenever I flew with or without my family. As a child wearing her Sunday Best (hat, and all) on her family's seasonal ski trip to Salt Lake City, I thought this rule was just ridiculous. But now, I appreciate what it has instilled in me.

Remember, a traveler is not only a guest venturing into a new place, but an envoy for your hometown. Diplomacy can be represented through a respectful appearance. I would never want people to think everyone from LA wears jumpsuits and bunny slippers, and neither should you.

Here are just a few suggestions for a comfortable and stylish travel outfit.

Rocker with a Professional Twist (I wore this exact outfit for my flight to Oakland)...




GUESS Daredevil skinny jeans are clean and pose as perfect pieces to match with potential outfits for your trip. In this lighter indigo wash, these daredevils are slimming AND comfortable with a stretch material. Snug in the perfect places, they always show off your best assets.



I love these Black Book Collection Tanks from H&M... they are great conversation starters with funny lines like "Vampires En Denim" or "L'amour est éternel". The t-shirt design basically reflects a genre of clothing-- internet based designs. Andrè Lorens Stock finds his screen prints online, and creatively composes them together for a snappy shirt.



To make the rocker look complete wear one signature piece to give it that subdued, hard look without going overboard. For example, I just love any skinny, tan leather cuff bracelet with gold studs... I couldn't find the exact one I wore, but these are very similar.







Now, not only will you make your ensemble look more put-together, but you will also save room in your suitcase by wearing your blazer while you travel. I was wearing an ABS cotton, three quarters-length, black blazer on my trip. It gives a professional flare, which is always nice to have, but it is still cozy!

Most of these are boyfriend styles, but even tuxedo, and classic will always work. Halogen, Hinge, and Kenna-T are always dependable lines to get these pieces. While some people think summer is when white should be worn before the expiration date of Labor Day, try coffee hues instead, like Latte!

Romping Around in a Romper

Now for those travelers out there who are tempted to wear their pajamas in the airport, throw your Onezie/footie pajamas in the suitcase (or the trash...), and jump into a romper!

I appreciate the concept of a romper for other people, but like the various religions out there, I respect our difference of opinion, acknowledge the legitimacy and truth of the practice, but do not believe in Romper-ism myself. Mainly because I don't believe God meant for me to wear one with my 5'4.5" frame... but nonetheless, here are some of my favorites!









BCBGeneration has some of the most glamorous and sexy rompers out there in fantastic colors. The teal just makes me want to convert to Romper-ism, God-willing! I suggest always looking for a romper with sleeves of some sort, just so you don't look like you're wearing a bathing suit. But if you find a sleeveless romper with a great sweetheart neckline, put on a jacket to complete the airport outfit.

These are just a few suggestions for summer travel! When it comes to packing, always think of versatile staples that can cross borders just like you are!

Friday, June 18, 2010

Style and Travel: A Love Story

When traveling alone, like I did on this weekend trip to Berkeley, I especially love interacting with people, but so often it seems like we all exist independently, separate in our own force fields. I feel like I'm breaking some sort of Hobbesian social code by striking up a conversation with someone sitting next to me in the South West terminal, but my natural gregarious-self cannot remain loyal to such rules.

I've realized, that this resistance to strangers, distances us from learning something from one another. Perhaps the reason travel is so educational, is none other than the inordinate about of people we meet.

Traveling is not only getting to the destination, but the anticipation of it-- being in transit and doing none other than my favorite thing-- PEOPLE WATCHING.

Especially traveling alone, you can't help, but notice the people around you. This blog post is dedicated to a couple I found to be really endearing, and fascinating...

Is Love Fashionably Compatible? I Think So!

I wonder if eHarmony.com ever thought of adding style to one of their components to discern compatibility? As people date, marry, and find partners, they can't help but confront style.

But it doesn't matter what you wear, for style isn't what's on your chest, but the beating heart behind it! In many cases, love (and style) is truly blind to your significant other! But in this case, I found two people who happened to have different perspectives, but really complemented one another.



On the BART (Bay Area Rapid Transit) I met a couple going to San Francisco for a weekend getaway. What struck me about them was their individualistic looks, yet what made them meld together so well (aside from their endearing adoration) was their confidence in their own styles.

I regret that I didn't catch their names, but this couple was so friendly and nice, and I appreciate their open hearts to a budding style writer.

This man is wearing a red vintage cap matching his red converse kicks. While the match-y reds could be overwhelming, he blends the head to toe crimson with a simple black-t and dark wash jeans. The gray light-weight cardigan connects the piece, lightening the color palette on his torso.

This gal, I couldn't help but spot from a mile away. She has two contrasting focal pieces that make the outfit superb.

She wears J-Crew's Panama Straw hat for a vacation look, while having it as a functional piece for all the sight-seeing. Then, her chunky, jeweled long-stranded necklace from Anthropologie, off-sets the the sporty, androgynous look with feminine pazazz.



These necklaces are similar to what she is wearing!











Like good chorus members to any production, they should highlight the stars, which happen to be the Panama Straw Hat and necklace. Her white top, black blazer, and green-brown skinny cargo pants act as a strong backdrop. These masculine staple pieces have feminine flare in the construction, making her ensemble a perfect union of male undertones and feminine fabulous-ness!

Thanks again to the happy couple-- you brightened my day, and I appreciate your enthusiasm! For all those cute couples out there, if I see you, I won't be afraid to ask what you're wearing.

Thursday, June 17, 2010

Kitten Wearing a Top Hat...and Subsequently Slapped in the Face?!

The Way You Wear Your Hat-- No They Can't Take That Away From Me!

So I just had to show off this video that a friend of mine sent me.

I've developed, what I think to be, a healthy relationship with kitten youtubez... because I am quite deathly allergic to the feline specimen (cut to me bleeding from the eyes near a Calico). What's better than a baby animal of any sort? Oh a baby animal broadcasted for the world to bask in the glory of, that's what!

While this clip may make you laugh, or call Animal 911, I hope it will be a good segue into a discussion on hats!

Wait, hold the phone... before we start, can I just mention that anything miniature is adorable?! Now how the heck did they create such a well constructed hat for a cutie-patootie so itsy?

I've always had this affinity toward top hats (perhaps it's my subconscious desire to be a Freemason, swivel a cane, or know Abraham Lincoln in the biblical sense). They are not only emblems of class and sophistication, but also are imbued with theatricality. I would never suggest someone wear one for say, a night out to Red Lobster, unless you are Lil Wayne of course, but a hat can just be center stage to any ensemble!

Hold on to your hats, folk's its going to be a wild ride!



Working in the fields for the summer harvest? Well, Chanel can throw you this wide brimmed straw hat embellished with silk tulle voile from the Spring/Summer 2010 Collection. Be careful with what you match it with...Little House On the Prairie hasn't been shooting since 1974, so let's keep the flowing, paisley blouses to a minimum.

Pair it with a vintage-looking, one-piece bathing suit for an exquisite sun-soaking look. Or, for Sunday Brunch in the garden, slip on crisp, white shorts, neutral wedges, and a corporate-esqe, pastel button up.



Urban Outfitter has San Diego Hat Co. cocktail hat for $34.00. Always on the go? The wind will never carry your hat away-- this is finished with a hair clip inside, and an elastic cord for a perfect fit.

Why I love this? Because you can dress it up, or dress it down. For the day wear it with jean shorts, and then when you're running to a party after dusk, you can wear it with more romantic, evening colors.



Looking for a little Southern Comfort in your life? Pop on this Colonel Sander's cousin and sip some sweet tea on your porch to cool off. The fedora comes in eight colors, but I like it in Kelly Green especially against the eggshell. Customers say it fits perfectly, and it's "fun and flirty" for the summer season.

Nordy's is probably the greatest place to get exactly what you need, and usually for an exceptionally affordable cost. This Grosgrain Straw Fedora is only $28.00!



Now is it really considered a hat when it's already attached to your head? Lady Gaga makes her hair into a fashion piece.

Ironically, her hair-hat mirrors a sun with those rays shooting out, but it doesn't seem to protect her from any of that paparazzi bulb-burn. Love the Free Bitch! Always revamping an orthodox idea, and flipping it over the avant-garde edge!

Wednesday, June 16, 2010

Fashion at the Tony's.

To quote the great and ever-present force that sashays through my head, Liza Minelli says, "It's up to you"!

And yes it is-- like a lot of things in life, your sheer will and determination has everything to do with your present attitude. And style is no exception. Let's wave our jazz hands as I show you my favorite fashion moments at the Tony's. No Chorus Line gold leotards necessary.

Obviously this post is musical theater themed (like much of my life). So don't mind the crazed theater-y jokes.

My version of Julie Andrew's "My Favorite Things" from the Sound of Music would consist of Broadway and a red-carpet dress. I love those two things so much, I just wouldn't know who to save if perched on the opposite ends of an erupting volcano.

So could you imagine my bat-shit crazy excitement for the Tony Awards? My inner gay man was just exploding with show tune squeals.

Here we go, kiddos...grab your pashminas, and prepare to wet yourselves with utter glory.



Lea Michele, star of Glee and once original cast member of Spring Awakening, looks incredible in a Zac Posen saffron gown. Oh hey, Zac Posen, this might be one of my favorite dresses of all time. I have an utter obsession with the color saffron, for its saturation, and eye-catching ability.

So let me just put this out on the interwebz table-- Scarlet Johansson can wear anything she wants and get away with it because she is so gosh darn gorgeous. But I truly applaud this black number. A great choice for her first, and successful Tony Awards. ScarJo won for her performance in A View From the Bridge. The Elie Saab gown is a glamorous and classy rendition of a jazzy, sequin costume Sally Bowles might wear.What I love about this silhouette is the double deep-v action. The slivers of skin create an interesting twist to a seemingly traditional dress.

*Addendum to ScarJo's dress-- I recently was informed that her dress was actually GREEN, not black... oh how my eyes deceive me! Actually, that is just an example of how dynamic fabric and color are with photography and lighting... sometimes fashion can only be truly seen and appreciated with the naked eye.





In this powder blue Atelier Versace gown, Catherine Zeta Jones enthusiastically waves from the stage as she accepts her award for her performance in A Little Night Music. With the structured bodice hugging her torso against the flow of fabric, she is truly reminiscent of Grace Kelly. Nothing can be better than a modernized version of classic glamor!





Viola Davis, exquisite actress and winner of Best Female in Revival, wins for her performance in Fences. She stands with her co-star, Denzel Washington, winner of Best Male in a Revival. When Davis began her acceptance speech she said, "I don't believe in luck or happenstance, but the presence of God in my life". Well, she looks divine in a chartruse halter! While photographs don't necessarily depict how striking the dress really was, television caught how illuminant it was! I love color that really hits you, stamping a memory in your head.

Monday, June 14, 2010

We Make. We Do.


In Italian, the word fashion comes from the verb “facere”: to make, to do. We all participate in this action, one way or another. Interestingly, but not surprisingly, the clothing on our backs is closely knitted to what we make of ourselves, and what we do day to day.


For designers, they are the makers. And for just about everyone else, aside from the nudist colonies out there, we are the do-ers.


It's this collective participation of something simple, wearing cloths, that makes me feel connected to the world, to the far distant people, to the person driving next to me on the 405.


I believe in fashion-- that clothes compliment and complement the personality and point of view of a person. Just like all art forms, style releases a certain subconscious within the artist (the maker or the do-er of clothes).


I can’t speak for everyone, but like many, I have an ardent dedication to staying true to myself through any sort of expression. How I live, how I present myself with style, can be a reflection of what’s beyond the flesh, what’s beyond clothes, to the immeasurable and stunning soul of a person.


Despite my zealous devotion to the written word, sometimes the life inside me just isn't satisfied with the parameters of language. The dynamic fauve, which is undaunted and fierce personality, needs something beyond the cerebral construct of language to express itself.


We search for something that both communicates our thoughts, and concurrently, let's us channel ( or should I say, Chanel?) feelings through the sensation of material. Fashion has dual citizenship. We wear clothes for the basic necessity of shelter, and on another level, we wear clothes for the basic necessity to express.


In shape and color, in movement, and texture, we go beyond the trenches of utilitarianism to the aesthetic, where emotion is unleashed. With these syllables of fabric and design, we live in what we wear.
And what's more important than to celebrate life, to honor and surrender to the beauty that is the human form.

But beyond expression, clothing is a conversation. From the dawn of time, in our Saber-tooth tiger skins, to even today's little black dress-- both the loin-cloth and the LBD slung off the shoulder. How interesting that design prevails, evolves, and revolutionizes. It's this dialogue with the physical remnants of the past, the ideas of the past, that help us create what we wear now.



The act of choosing an outfit can seem mundane. But, in our choices we express taste, what makes us feel confident, and how we see ourselves. An ensemble can go from an investment that mirrors our inward desires to something that projects those desires onto others. As one walks out the door, fashion becomes a public act, because the people you pass on the street share the experience of what you are wearing


Living in this unique art, adorning our bodies with what we make, we are tied together through these collective tribes of fashion. We put together a new alphabet in our textiles, and a dialogue beyond words exists in our reality. A part of a community, or culture, we are connected and unified, like the fibers on our backs.


Cloth weaves us into sensation.


The quiet peeps of a gossamer petticoat underneath the sheath of a Vera Wang gown unveil elegance.


The sharp directions of a military jacket follow the confidence for a demonstrative command.


And the classic blue jean and white-T, speaks simplicity and honesty.


Whatever you zip, belt, or buckle, make a statement.