Indulge Decor Blog

Forks Over Knives

 

 

I love New Year's Resolutions. I love the idea of committing to a notion and trying to stick with 'said' notion for a defined period of time.

Just to strengthen the resolve of 'said' notion, I make a point of blabbing my New Year's determination(s) to several friend's and family members for emotional support hence I stray from my self proclaimed notion/determination path.

I find that sharing my New Year's notion amongst close friends is also beneficial in a - "I'll tell you mine if you tell me yours."- grand gesture. I also try to remain open to the idea that someone (dear friend) might have a more relevant (better) resolution, and I could make a last minute adjustment (upgrade) before I commit to my final carved in soft stone resolution. My feeling (rational) is just because you didn't come up with the resolution yourself, doesn't make 'said' resolution upgrade any less personal or perfect. Following is a list of resolutions my friends have made for themselves this year and shared with me. Please feel free to borrow (upgrade) one if you feel so inclined. And remember, the best part of a New Year's Resolution is that you can actually start it whenever you are ready.

Get Into Excellent Shape

Eat Better

Get A Total Physical

No Alcohol. Well, Less Alcohol . . .

Socialize More

Wear More Color

Wear More Dresses

Purge My Closet

Only Wear Workout Clothes On Days That Actually Plan To Workout

 Stop Wearing Hair In Ponytail

Finish Decorating House

Be More Available To Family & Friends

Learn A Language

Take A Computer Class

Get a Job

Plan To Have A Dinner Party Every Month

Learn To Make A Really Great Vinaigrette Dressing

Read A Book A Month

Accept More Social Invitations

 

All in all, no one notion on the above 'said' New Year's Resolution list seems too difficult. And, I actually think you could combine a few resolutions together to make one really great resolution such as - get an overall physical, eat better and get into excellent shape. (Profoundly positive 3 part resolution actually came from my cousin Care, age 41.)

The grocery store tabloids play off our inner fat girl insecurities that we (always) need to lose weight. And, that at all times we should be thinking about losing weight. Which I think is totally ironic because stupid magazines with shaming weight loss message covers are displayed adjacent to candy/gum/sucrose checkout display.

 

     

Consider this - What if 'it' wasn't just about weight? What if overall health was our primary focus and concern?

 

 This glossy photo of Gwyneth touting her diet secrets caught my attention. 

 

People Magazine (page 34)

 

 Makes grocery shopping easy and quick when there are only 3 food groups on your pre-approved 'elimination diet' list, ahem. Stomach gurgle.

 

It's not that I want to lose weight as much as I just want to be as healthy as I can possibly be. With that mantra (healthy as I can possibly be) in mind, my dear cousin Care texted me to say that I have got to watch the movie 'Forks Over Knives'. The movie will completely change the way I think about food.

'Forks Over Knives'

Streamed on Netflix

 

The basic premise of the documentary is if you simply removed dairy, refined sugar and meat from your diet that you could add years to your life.

"Let Food be thy medicine." - Hippocrates

"The doctor of the future will no longer treat the human frame with drugs, but rather will cure and prevent disease with nutrition." - Thomas Edison

"He that takes medicine and neglects diet, wastes the time of his doctor." Chinese Proverb

I watched the movie with my husband, and we are both going to try to eat a more plant based diet. I have told at least 5 friends this week about the movie, and now I am writing to urge you to watch the movie also. The movie is 96 minutes long and is very insightful in regards to our health and the correlation of food / health (diabetes, coronary heart disease and cancer). Even if you are not open to making radical changes to your diet (at this time), at least the movie might make you think twice about which foods you choose to fill your grocery cart with.

My New Year's Resolution - To Be More Concerned With My Personal Health & The Health Of The People I Love.

FYI, I also take a multi vitamin . . . (purchased at Whole Foods)

 

Red Carpet Review: Oscars 2010

 

Indulge

I love award season in Hollywood.

Can you imagine being a starlet during award season - the stylists, the fittings, the jewelry, the hair and make-up, the butterflies (you know, the ones in your stomach when you're getting your fabulous self out of the limo and onto the red carpet)?

Obviously, some do it better than others. Which is lucky for me - because really, what's fun about being the Fashion Police if everyone dressed utterly impeccably?

I've decided to break it down by the noticeable trends. My favorites are dispersed throughout. Spoiler Alert: Don't worry, I still managed to give out a few "WTF" awards at the end.

 

First, three of my favorites. Sandra Bullock, dressed to win in Marchesa, Cameron Diaz in Oscar de la Renta, and Julianne Moore in Calvin Klein. Three of my favorite ladies in three of my most favorite designers. Love their shiny gold-hues and love their Veronica Lake-1940s-sideswept glamour hair.

    

Um, I'd just like to point out that Julianne Moore is turning 50 this year. Yes, FIFTY. Meanwhile, Sandra is 45 and Cameron is 37 - I'd like to know their secrets, for sure.

 

Another noticeable trend was the open-front gown. Of course! Why didn't I think of that! Show off the shoes. Here's Demi Moore in Versace, Zoe Saldana in Givenchy, and newcomers Carey Mulligan and Anna Kendrick in Prada and Elie Saab, respectably.

   

  

These are all very different gowns, yes, but they're all showing a little leg and a lotta shoe.

 

Ladies in red. Here's Vera Farmiga in Marchesa and Penelope Cruz in Donna Karan.
 

While Vera's dress is more fruit punch, Penelope's merlot red gown matches the red carpet to a tee. Check out Sigourney Weaver, also in red, checking her out in the photo above - I wonder how many people stepped on Penelope's gown that night?

 

It's pretty rare to see prints at a red carpet event, but this year two young starlets opted for a printed gown. Here's Maggie Gyllenhaal in Dries Van Noten and one of my favorites, Rachel McAdams in Elie Saab.

 

Love Rachel's dress. Who knew a print could be so glamorous and classic; so red carpet? She looks like an impressionist painting or a watercolor.

 

Another red carpet trend this year was the more structured, architectural gown. And more neutral, pale hues. Here's Kate Winslet in YSL, Jennifer Lopez, and Amanda Seyfried, both in Armani Prive.

   

Now, if you watched the red carpet live on t.v., you probably noticed how stunning Jennifer looked. But there is this picture which tells a different story (i.e. very unflattering bottom half). I loved it when I watched it live on t.v., but I guess she should have been more careful about how she posed or what angle the cameras caught.

 

Speaking of unfortunate red carpet incidences, another "trend" I noticed this year was that a couple of my usual faves fell short. Let's call it my "WTF" (What The Fudge) award.They chose the right designer but sadly not the right dress. Here's Charlize Theron in Dior and Diane Kruger in Chanel.

  

Eek. I don't know what Charlize was thinking with those Pillsbury rolls over her breasts. To think that John Galliano did that to her! What were they thinking. As for Diane - I'm all about
Chanel and I'm definitely all about a vintage-vibe - but if something's not flattering, don't wear it.

 

And now for my "On The Fence" award, which goes to Sarah Jessica Parker in Chanel.

She has a beautiful figure, and you have to admire her risk-taking, but I just can't seem to get behind this dress. The color's great. The bangles are lovely. And even though she's fifteen shades darker than her husband (don't they both live in New York?) I like her hair and make-up. I don't love it. And I don't hate it either. I'm on the fence.

 

My Most Improved award goes to Miley Cyrus in Jenny Packham.

Other than her sometimes-bad posture which pains me so, Miley looks better than she ever has. Great hair, appropriate make-up (remember, she's 16!), and a great color for her. 

 

Now, my "I-Don't-Know-Why-She-Was-There-But-I-Loved-Her-Dress" Award. That goes to Nicole Richie in Reem Acra.

 

Again, I'm not so sure exactly why she was there, but I do love this gown. Considering she didn't live in the 60s and 70s, she always get the groovy 70s hippie chick vibe just right.

 

Last, but not least, my "Wish You Were Here Award." Weren't there some celebs you like seeing on the red carpet that you missed seeing this year? Some of my old standbys that I missed seeing this year, the winners of the "Wish You Were Here" award, in last year's gowns, are:

Reese Witherspoon

In vintage Dior 

 

Anne Hathaway

In Armani Prive 

 

Angelina Jolie

In Elie Saab and gorgeous Lorraine Schwartz emerald earrings. 

 

That wraps it up for my Academy Awards Red Carpet Review and sadly, for award season in general. Luckily we get to do it all over again next year!

 

Are You There God? It's Me OCD.

 

The other morning, I was late to work again. Reason - dear mother called and as you can imagine there is no rushing a dear mother off the phone in one of her early morning pre-caffeinated tirades. Obviously, she (dear mother) had woken up all fire-y mad on a particular subject - 'Why hadn't she received her voting ballot yet in the mail and the political conspiracy behind it's tardiness.' You don't need to be an investigative journalist like moi to know the answer to that conundrum - county voter's registration office and USPS, hmm.

"No mom, I do not know the number to the KHOU TV station and I do not think they will report the tardy voting ballot conspiracy on air. I have to hang up now because I am about to be seriously late for work, again." 

Senseless phone call now has me running 15 minutes late. I was flurrying around the house in my usual manner (chicken with her head cut off) trying to gather everything that I would need to have with me for the next 10 hours (8 hours to be spent at work and 2 hours spent having dinner out with a friend): sunglasses, phone, flips, raincoat, scarf, purse, camera, camera charger, camera cord, mail, to-do-list, granola, coffee, and last but not least my BFD (Best Friend Dog) Spotsy.

Finally, after a brief but successful search for the keys we (moi & BFD) are out the door, down the walkway, and we almost make it to the front gate when it occurs to me that I can't remember if I locked the front door, so I turned back around and headed back toward the house at which point my BFD turned to look at me, let out this huge sigh, and walked off to lay down in the yard in a shady spot (implication - it was going to be a while and she didn't want to strain herself standing in one place while waiting indefinitely.)

Apparently, this was not the first time that I had almost made it to the front gate before I thought it best to turn around and double check that I had indeed locked the front door

(But, only after I actually did unlock the front door, go back inside the house and then double check both back doors that they were, of course, originally locked and triple check that the automatic coffee maker did turn off. Can you spell f-r-e-a-k?)

This (double checking and triple checking) is exactly the type of (incredibly annoying) thing my mother used to do when I was a kid. I even remember the night before we would leave to go on a family trip, my ever 'mindful father' would go around the house and set every clock 15 minutes ahead to off set my mother's habitual vacation-readiness-craziness.

Children should be warned not to laugh or make fun of their parents because some day, . . . . some day those snickering children become adults who carry forward with them most, if not all, of their parent's most irritating qualities. My double curse (inherited from both parents) is a severe (but not quite debilitating) case of OCD. At some point, I do make it out of the house and to work only slightly (yet predictably) 10 to 15 (ok, sometimes 30) minutes late. But, all of my house clocks are set 15 minutes ahead so 50% of the time I actually do arrive on time, ha ha - I pulled a 'mindful father' on myself.

I don't know why that particular 'other morning' stood out so much in my head. To me, it was a morning like any other morning; perhaps, I was a bit scattered but no more than usual. I guess the catalyst (uber awareness) was Spotsy and the way she looked at me, sighed, and then walked off to cop a squat in the shade. Spotsy looked at me like my brother, father and I used to look at my mother when we were 15 minutes late for whatever we were going to (30 minutes if you count the 'mindful father' cushion - house clocks set 15 minutes fast.) So, I started to keep a mental diary of my morning insanity just to diagnose how far the situation (OCD) had evolved:

BED - Can only sleep on left side of bed, happens to be side furthest from window and daybreak. (Happens to be very common practice in most vampire communities now days, per TV.)

COFFEE - Can and only will drink coffee from favorite French mug. ('Said' coffee mug looks really cute on bedside table and perfectly matches decor of bedroom.)

HAIR - Must brush hair the second I get out of bed, even before pishi-ing. The immediacy of 'said' brushing of hair is ironic because I will brush 'said' hair once again before I leave for work and then not brush hair again probably until bedtime, hmm.

SOAP & SHAMPOO - All products must be realigned after husband disturbs (uses) them. Incidentally, bottles do not need to be straightened after I use them. Most predictably, bottles remain perfectly straight through my entire routine of shampoo, wash, rinse, & condition, rinse, hmm. This methodology of all the products remaining on 1 single shelf in a designated area after 1 single use has eluded my husband for over 10 years. Potential grrr.)

TUB MAT - Husband inadvertently puts tub mat down vertically, when everyone in the free world knows tub mat should be placed horizontally along tub edge, another potential grrr. And, he calls himself an architect.

KITCHEN - All dishes washed by hand and gently placed in dishwasher to be, of course, washed again. Scrubbing brush used to clean dishes washed as well, everyday.

FAMILY ROOM - Throws folded neatly and placed on arm(s) of couches. Couch cushions fluffed just so to give implication that nobody should ever sit on those particular couches, ever.

BEDROOM - Bed made just in case house is robbed, wouldn't want burglar to think I'm a sloppy home maker.

CORDLESS PHONES - Double check to make sure all phones are on their docks charging

AC - Double check to make sure thermostat set at comfortable 72 degrees while away.

COFFEE MAKER - Triple checked - still turned off.

 *** Disclosure - I have been known to throw cordless home phone in handbag and leave coffee pot in refrigerator, oops. The cordless phone wasn't that hard to locate, but I didn't even know the coffee pot was lost until dessert that night. OK, fine you caught me, I might have had some ice cream in my coffee that morning, but we were out of cream for the coffee, again.

KEYS - Self explanatory - still minor craziness.

SUNGLASSES - Have emergency-backup pair of Ray Bans strategically located by back door if I go over the 5 minute search rule, and a third but less desirable  backup-emergency-backup pair hidden away in car console if not stolen by valet from fun party last weekend.

BFD - Needless to say, my dear sweet Spotsy is patiently waiting by the front door. I have yet to forget her at home.

So, that concludes leaving the house, but I'm afraid that 'leaving the house' is just the tip of the iceberg for us chronic OCD sufferers. Upon further evaluation, I came up with an abbreviated list of some of my other seemingly common, yet superficial, OCD afflictions.

MAID -

        T-SHIRTS: I wash all the clothes before she gets here. It is impossible to explain to Maid my relationship with my Petit Bateau t-shirts. Not all white t-shirts are created equal. My Petit Bateau t-shirts are washed on gentle cycle, hung to dry and ironed on low heat. The clothes hanger should never go in through the neck, only up from the bottom.

        DISHWASHER: I also prefer to load & unload the dishwasher myself. I also overly love my Cote Bastide French ceramic dinnerware and do not want my charming dishes banging up against the pots and pans in an unauthorized pot-pans-scrub cycle. H-e-l-l-o chipping and crackling?!

        DUSTING: I wish that I could tape a polaroid under each tabletop so dutiful Maid could dust and then re-set overly precious objects in exactly the same place (and same subtle angle) and not line 'said' precious objects up as if they were about to go into battle.

- - -

PEDICURE - I have to shave my legs before I have a pedi. I don't want to be known as "barbwire" at the Vietnamese strip-center mani-pedi salon. Over the years, I have certainly witnessed their sneers under their ridiculously straight bangs.

HAIR CUT - I always fix my hair real cute before I go get it cut. I don't want the hairdresser to think that I don't care (which, actually I kinda don't care) but, I don't want her to not care.

PURSE - My wallet has to match my purse. In decorating terms, that would be like the drapes not matching the curtains, uh huh, get it now. I know it's an additional expense but well worth it.

GASOLINE - I feel very strongly about this - a tank of gas should last me 2 weeks. I will drive the car on sheer air fumes before I will pull over and refill my gas tank in under 2 weeks. I purchase gas by dollar value and it is certainly not my fault that gasoline keeps going up in price. Bi-weekly gasoline budget $50 and I refuse to go any higher.

PAPER PRODUCTS - I only buy Viva Paper Towels and Charmin Toilet Paper. I don't even know why grocery stores carry anything else. Quantities - stockpile syndrome, a dozen at a time. I don't know why but I unexplainably hoard grocery store paper products.

EVERYTHING MATCHES - White house/flax and natural linen interiors, tawny colored dogs, flax colored bedding, perfect French coffee mug. All components look fab together, in a completely un-construed, . . . construed way, hmm.

GARDEN - Usually all white or all purple. No yellow! I went to Kinkaid -  I can't have any yellow near my purple. If I didn't think it too rude, I would even ask the house three doors down to stop planting yellow flowers in their front yard.  

MAGAZINES - I start at the back and flip forward. Then, I start at the front and flip backwards. then, I read whatever articles I deem interesting at the time. Then, I read the whole magazine cover-to-cover. Specialized Technique: 3 swipes and an in-depth.

- - - - -

SELF DIAGNOSED SUPERFICIAL OCD - I was constantly having that feeling of needing to take a deep breathe or I would implode or explode (in-or-out), either way, I was beginning to feel like one of my father's overly wound clocks. 

TREATMENT - I needed to let up on a few things. For me, the easiest thing to let go of was something that I wasn't all that familiar with from the get go . . . . . technology.

CONSTANT CONTACT & MESSAGING

HOME ANSWERING MACHINE - I never check it and mailbox is usually full. My family and friends have my cell phone number and know better than to leave a message on my home phone.

CELL PHONE VOICE MAIL - Never check it. My family and friends know that I'm at work 8 hours a day / 6 days a week and they know to call me at the store.

WORK PHONE  CALL NOTES - Never check that either. Still has message from Memorial Day that store will be closed that Monday, oops.

PERSONAL EMAILS - You will need to call me on the phone (at work) to tell me to check that because I NEVER read my emails, never!

WORK EMAILS - Several other people check that (most of the time).

CELL PHONE - I will not answer the phone if I am within earshot of anyone. I think it is so bizarre to talk on the phone anywhere, any time, to anyone. Just sidle up to someone in the grocery store these days and you will get more than an earful of their most private conversations. Last week, I overheard the sweet aunt of a childhood chum of mine confiding to a friend over her cell about the inevitability of her impending divorce. Cell phone eaves-dropping is more reality than I can take especially if the words hormones, testosterone, and Viagra pop up in the conversation, eech.

Basically, there are 5 very good ways to not get in touch with me. It's not that I'm being elusive, or even unavailable, . . . I just can't stand the feeling of being so overly available. I am still a product of my generation - rotary dial, princess phone, land line, message pad, answering machine, red light blinking, computerized male voice - "You have no new messages."

At some point on Sunday, I'll take time out of my only-day-off  to delete the 20 something "Paid for by the political ad campaign of . . . . " messages that I have left over from election week. The only reason I don't have more of those ahem very convincing political messages is that my call notes mailbox exploded and is jammed somewhere between "We are not home right now . . . leave us a message . . . . and we'll call you back (not!)."

- - - - -

Almost daily, someone says to me, "I just love your store; everything is so beautiful. Does your house look like this?"

Mental answer, "Yes, between the hours of 10 am and 5 pm when messy husband and over-sized even messier dogs are out of the house. Otherwise, no."

I always smile at the nice customer (newbie) and respond as she wishes me to, "Um sure, why not." And glance down at my watch as if to signal that I'm sorry I can't stay and chat but I might be running late for something very important.

Oh, I am not wearing a watch! That's right . . . . from the hours of 10 - 6, I personally give up voice mail, call notes, texting, email, my cell phone and the thing that reminds me the most of being so wound up - my watch.

And, as far as 'managing' my seemingly superficial OCD, . . . . well, what's the expression - Birds of a Feather Flock Together?

I'm not naming names or anything like that but let's just say that I see Indulge as part of the migratory pattern for a lot of varieties of birds. And, let me tell you, there are some real loons that fly through that shop. My OCD is in an incubation period compared to some of these quacks, ha ha ha.

At least I'm able to laugh at myself because these other women take their perfectionism so seriously, and really, who has time for all that? 

 

 

Paris / Capri, September 2010 - Living on the Edge

As I started to tell you in the last post before I segued (rambled) into pre-voyage shopping, I ran into an old friend (meaning years that I've known him, not age, tee hee) and he was full of joy and beaming because his daughter was getting married in two weeks in Capri. 

Well, I happened to mention that Issac and I were heading to Paris in the next couple of weeks and my friend B. jumped in and exclaimed, "I'll meet you guys in Paris after the wedding! Let's meet for dinner tonight and I'll get all the dates and we'll set it up! What is it 3:00? Let's meet at 6:00." And, B. was off in a flurry to change someone else's life.

Wow, I thought. I would love to live my life like that. I would love to be able to make plans to join someone in a far off land in a 'moment's notice'. 

The rest of the day, I dwelled on B. and his 'moment's notice' lifestyle.

This is how pathetic I was feeling - I thought it was miraculously spontaneous of Issac and me just to join B. for dinner out on a 'moment's notice' - that is a 3 hour 'moment's notice' at a restaurant down the street. Living on the edge, not. 

Over dinner, Issac and B. realized that I (moi) had no idea when I was leaving for Paris and had the dates all wrong as usual. Issac and moi, were leaving for Paris in 5 days not 12 like I thought. Of course, Issac could not understand how I could have the dates all wrong because he had told me at least 12 times, programmed the dates into my iPhone, and even circled them on the calendar hanging on the kitchen wall.

Well, what can I say in defense - Oops.

After the first bottle of wine at a charming neighborhood French restaurant (chosen in the spirit of the before mentioned Paris hookup), B. and Issac got down to making some serious travel arrangements for France. That was when the discovery was made - I was off on my travel dates by not just 1 week but 2. Issac and I would have left France before the daughter's wedding in Capri, Italy.

Silence, followed by disappointment. A horrible combination, especially after the revelry of enjoying a bottle of wine and what - 6 hours of expectations (clock began at 3:00 on Paris escapade, now it was roughly 9:00.)

B. stared meaningfully into his glass of wine, waiting for inspiration. "Well!" B. exclaimed. "You will just have to come to Italy instead and be my guests at my daughter's wedding. My daughter wanted a small wedding; there's only going to be 50 people there - You gotta come ! There, we've solved that dilemma. Instead of me going to meet you guy's in Paris, you'll come to Capri. I'll email you all the information tomorrow"

Italy!!!  I thought, stunned. You meeting us in Paris (we are already there) versus Issac and I flying to Capri is not exactly what I was expecting as the throw down alternative.

"We'd love to!" Exclaimed my husband without hesitation.

Shouldn't we discuss the pros and cons of this (flying to Capri on a 'moment's notice') at nausea, and then talk ourselves out of it because - it's just too soon, too spontaneous, and we have too much going on, and too many responsibilities just to change pre set (2 months ago) travel arrangements and travel to an island for a wedding that we haven't actually been invited to. I thought, still trying to process how all of a sudden we were going to Capri, Italy instead of home.

 

My miss manners upbringing kicked in. "That is a really lovely invitation but you need to ask your daughter first. Weddings are a huge deal, you just don't add 2 people last minute - especially in a foreign country."

 

"It'll be great! We want you guys to come - what is 2 more people!" B. raised his glass of wine to toast the new travel arrangements and that there will be 2 more guests to celebrate his daughter's wedding in Capri.

That is how my husband and I became plus 2 (+2) at a fabulous wedding in Capri, Italy on someone else's 'moment's notice'.

By the time I got the house all organized to go to bed that evening, my sweet husband had already reserved a room with a balcony in Capri, and airline seats from Paris to Naples round trip, and extended our return voyage home from Paris.  First class was sold out, so we would be returning home . . . aghast - 'Premium Voyageur' on Air France. Let me tell you, Air France's term 'Premium Voyageur' does not exactly translate to English honestly.

Living On the Edge - You betcha!!!

- - - - - -

The book that I read on the plane from Houston to Paris while everyone else (including my sweet husband) was sleeping (snoring) comfortably, grrr.

The Picture of  Dorian Gray

by Oscar Wilde

After a couple of chapters, I had to get a pen out of my carry-on and go back to the beginning of the book and highlight all the wonderful 'phrasing' Oscar Wilde writes (comes up with). The premise of the book is, of course, fascinating to moi (a somewhat middle-age self-oriented individual).

Oscar's Premise:

To What Length Would You Go To Keep Your Youth & Beauty?

Is it Worth Your Soul?

Is it Worth Your Sanity?

Is it Worth Your Reputation?

Is it Worth Your Relationships?

In other words, how much in life are you willing to sacrifice for youth and beauty?

"If it were I who was to be always young, . . .  . I would give everything. . . . I would give my soul for that." (page 29)

Just the kind of 'light' topic you want to think (obsess) about strapped to a chair, locked in a pressurized cabin, soaring (suspended) 33,000 feet above earth. At this particular moment, you are  physically as close to heaven (where the souls presumably live) as you will ever be (that is not pushing up daisies).

Some of my Favorite Quotes from 'The Book':

"She is a peacock in everything but beauty." page 8

"I choose my friends for their good looks, my acquaintances for their good character, and my enemies for their good intellects." page 9

"I like persons better than principles, and I like persons with no principles better than anything else in the world." page 10

"The  only way to get rid of a temptation is to yield to it." page 21

"She behaves as if she was beautiful. Most American women do. It is the secret of their charm." page 39 Tee hee.

"I wish you would tell me how to become young again.". . . . . ."Can you remember any great error that you committed in your early days?" . . . . . "Then commit them over again." page 46

"Nowadays people know the price of everything, and the value of nothing." page 52

"Whenever a man does a thoroughly stupid thing, it is always from the noblest motives." page 83

"When we are happy we are always good, but when we are good we are not always happy." page 88 

". . . . . a fatality about good resolutions - that they are always made too late." page 113

"We women, . . . love with our ears, just as you men love with your eyes." page 223

"A woman will flirt with anybody in the world as long as other people are looking on." page 232

- - - - - - -

As far as youth, beauty, character, and reputation are concerned, . . . . well, you will have to consult your own soul for the answer. Neither Oscar, nor I can answer that question for you.

And, if you still don't know the answer, . . . . . I'll give you a hint - things didn't go so well for Oscar in the end. Wilde wrote The Picture of Dorian Gray in 1890, imprisoned from 1895-1897, died destitute in Paris at the age of 46 in 1900. A very tragic ending for such a great man with an incredibly insightful nature.

P.S. - If you are the type of person who only watches great books in movie form - you can rent Dorian Gray starring Colin Firth (my movie star boyfriend) on Netflix. J. says the movie is sorta creepy, but I loved, loved the book.

Arrivedercci for now.

- - - - - - -

The Other Reading Material in My Carry-on.

I am Charlotte Simmons 

by Tom Wolfe

  and, 

 

The Girl Who Played with Fire

by Stieg Larsson

 

American Express / Continental Airline Travel Alert

Just received a nondescript letter from my dear friends at American Express informing me that as of September 30, 2011 there will be a few changes to the benefits offered by Amex. Platinum Card in regards to Continental Airlines:

• Continental Airlines President's Clubs will no longer be a part of the Platinum Airport Club Access Program.
• You (we) will no longer be able to transfer Membership Rewards Points into Continental OnePass Frequent Flyer Accounts. 

So, who do you think is responsible for these grave injustices - Amex. or Continental?

Is this a result of the United / Continental merger?

All I can say is - GRRRRRRR!!!!

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Check Back Friday For Next Fun Blog Post - 'Capri on the Edge'!!!

Waste Not

Like any siblings close in age, my brother (3 years older) and I can be very competitive with each other. Now, having made that simple sibling confession, please allow me to clarify. He (much older looking brother) and I are not competitive in the traditional sense that you might find between brothers and sisters relatively close in age. We are competitive about rather obscure, non-tangible things such as . . . the cities we choose to live in, and the weather we are blessed with. My (much older looking) brother (hee hee, this is fun!) lives in glorious Colorado while I live much further South and to the right a bit in good 'ole Texas.

For the last week or so my brother has reveled in calling me on his way home from work each day just to ask me the all too important questions -

"Well, how bad was it (insufferable temperature) today?"

and,

"What was the high?"

            

 (No reference intended to Cheech & Chong's movie classic Up in Smoke)

Now, we all know that he (much older looking brother) could check his cell phone or computer to verify the degree of 'hotness' in Houston, but then he wouldn't get to drone on and on about the heat, and the rain, and the flash floods, and the hurricanes, and the mosquitoes, and the traffic, and the . . . . that we succumb to each summer season in good 'ole Houston, Texas.

I realize that to some of you blog readers (fellow Houstonians), my brother may seem a bit insensitive, or callous, or braggadocios, but this gloating is all within the acceptable boundaries of our brother / sister sparring competitiveness. On this particular topic - 100 degree plus August days, it is well within his right to gloat. I, on the other hand, am in survival mode. My survival mantra is:

Water. Water. Water.

I leave the house every morning with a bottled water. Then, I grab another colder bottled water when I get to the Saint store. At some point, I lose that bottled water (ahem, cute OCD shop girl throws it away) and grab yet another bottled water and head on over to the Blvd. store. For the most part, I am able to keep up with that 3rd. bottled water for the duration of the day  and refill it as needed.

Unfortunately, with all my earnest to stay hydrated and keep from passing out from heat exhaustion, I have gone through a case and a half of bottled water by the end of the week, ugh. I was already feeling really guilty about my wastefulness when I saw a Brita Water Filter commercial on T.V.

"In spite of having easy access to clean water, the United States is the world's largest bottled water consumer. In 2008, the U.S. used enough plastic water bottles to stretch around the Earth more than 190 times."

Did I hear that correctly!!!

I logged onto Brita's site for further information:

"Many people intend to recycle disposable water bottles: however, 69% of bottled water containers end up in the trash and not the recycling container."

"In the United States, 24% of bottled water sold is either Pepsi's Aquafina (13% of the market) or Coke's Dasani (11% of the market). Both brands are bottled purified municipal water."

Then, I remembered hearing about the Pacific Trash Vortex (Great Pacific Garbage Patch).

Experts / scientists suggest that the patch (of trash) ranges in size from the state of Texas to the continental United States. The discrepancy in size is because there is no specific standard for measuring "normal" or "elevated" levels of pollutants.  

 

 

  

I think that we can all agree that the Plastic Trash Vortex is hugely gross! And, anything  the size of Texas (an area of 268,820 miles) is just gigantic by any standards. In layman's terms, our beautiful oceans have become the world's largest dump sites.

In an environmental statement, David de Rothschild sailed his boat The Plastiki ( which was made from 12,500 plastic bottles) from San Francisco to Sydney on a mission to showcase waste as a resource. The eco-adventure covered 8,000 nautical miles and took 130 days. 

Thank you Brita Commercial for stopping me dead in my tracks in regards to water bottle wastage and hopefully making me a more pro-active water bottle recycler. 

 Water Bottle Resolution:

Will leave house Monday morning with water bottle.

Will write my name on 'said' water bottle so that cute OCD shop girl will not throw plastic water bottle in trash bin before 11:00 a.m.

Will refill 'said' water bottle throughout the day instead of always breaking open a new bottle. 

Will reuse 'said' water bottle for the whole week.

Lesson Well Learned and Hopefully Remembered: My desperate need to stay hydrated is not worth risking the life of adorable baby sea turtle and all his little Nemo friends. Viva La Sea Turtle! Viva Nemo!

And, as far as the 100 degree plus August days in Texas - here are just a few adjectives that come to mind - sweltering, steamy, sauna-like, blistering, record-setting, record breaking, and my personal favorite -

It's so hot you could fry an egg on the sidewalk.

Although it is urban myth that it is actually better to fry the egg on the hood of the car (pickup truck).

and,

It's so hot the chickens are laying hard boiled eggs.

Ha, ha, ha.

But, not to worry, come April I will call my (much older looking) brother and ask him how the weather is in Colorado. While we (fellow Houstonians) are enjoying idyllic temperatures of warm days / cool nights, my (much older looking) brother is bracing himself for one more giant snow storm. So, in general, that would be giant snow storms from late October until mid April (6  months of snow), brrr.

Not for me. I'll take a fried egg over a frozen egg any day.

Besties No More

 

I see a lot of people every day, perhaps too many people for somebody with my Ms. Marple analytical intellect and skills. I often can't help myself from taking a casual, off the cuff comment a charming customer makes and extrapolate it ('said' remark) to ad-nauseam in my head. For instance:

Me: "Hi Mrs. Range Rover, it's good to see you. Did you and Mrs. Escalade have lunch next door at Tiny Boxwoods today?" I asked, glancing at my watch and thinking it's kinda late - 4pm. Mrs. R.R. and Mrs. E. must have really had a 'good time' at lunch today, if you catch my drift, ha ha hiccup.

Background info - Mrs. Range Rover and Mrs. Escalade have been besties since college (easily 20++ years). The darling twosome have lunch together (and a refreshing libation) at least once a month at T.B.and then pop into Indulge for a little 'looksie' and something smelly. Actually, I had never even seen the one friend without the other - true besties through and through. 

Mrs. Range Rover's retort: "No. We are no longer friends." And with that, Mrs. R.R. slammed her $6 soap on the counter and her Black American Express Card.

Typical Open-Mouth-Insert-Foot Dialogue to follow:

So, I'm standing there, eyes looking toward the ceiling, trying to think of something to say or even not to say. Anything to ease the tension.

 Uh oh, volcanic heat wave devours me. Now, I'm speechless, and I have unsightly, sweaty armpits. The only part of my body that is dry is my mouth. I'm such a professional, not!

What to do in such a conundrum . . . . .?

Do I engage and ask Mrs. R.R. what happened?

Do I insensitively charge Mrs. R.R. for her soap and completely skip over the cutting remark?

Do I tell her that whatever 'it' was I'm sure they will get past 'it' and be back to being besties in no time?

How, how in the world are you supposed to respond to - "No. We are no longer friends."

It's not like there is a death or a terminal illness, and I can offer my heart felt condolences. This is different. This is completely different. This is a complete and utter friendship meltdown. A schism. A break. A friendship avalanche.

I finally detached my eyes from the ceiling and simply replied, "Oh?" Then, I went upstairs to apply more deodorant.

But, to be perfectly honest with you, I couldn't stop thinking about 'it' (Mrs. R.R. & Mrs. E's 20++ year friendship). What could possibly cause 2 besties with that much history and laughter to have a rift that would be so awful that it would cause one friend to tell a simple shop girl (moi) something as personal and definitive as - "We are no longer friends."

Isn't there a sort of 'open door' policy between best friends. As a long term bestie, don't you reserve the right to be irritated, or annoyed, or even mad, or angry at 'said' bestie for some seemingly thoughtless in-fracture.  But, surely you with hold public comments to 'C' list acquaintances - shop girl (moi). Because, in a week or two something will happen of some type of significance (excuse) and you will want to pick up the phone and call your bestie to share the funny story and a heartfelt laugh. Out of the conversation, the two of you decide to meet for lunch at your favorite spot, T.B. and all is forgiven (if not forgotten) without further due course. Because really, what could be that unforgivable between long term besties . . . . . .?

Or, so I thought. Apparently, I just had not lived long enough. In all my smugness, I actually felt badly for Mrs. Range Rover. Here she was, shopping at Indulge for something deliciously smelly and receiving absolutely no joy from the event at all because her bestie was not there to share the moment and a smile. She was all alone doing something she totally enjoyed doing, but looked miserable.

This is where our little mysterious friend Fate shows up. I went from complete friend-fall-out naiveness to friend-fall-out-casualty.

My 'said' relationship with bestie now at odds -15 years. My 'said' relationship with bestie seemed to end in a single conversation. I had no idea that I had it in me to end a relationship so rationally. At this point in my life, I thought that the relationships (friendships with besties) that I had would literally out last me. I thought that as a general course of friendship 'weeding' that the relationships that I maintained and nurtured at this point in my life were the important ones. The ones worth keeping. The ones worth working on. The ones worth maintaining. Little did I know that when pressured from the wrong angle, I too could sever ties with someone I cared about greatly and actually not look back. My core personal relationships (with besties) had changed very little over the last 20 years. I guess that I took it all for granted that I had made such excellent choices in friends and that my relationships would endure the test of time (and seemingly thoughtless in-fractures.)

'Said' relationship ended over an expansive trail of secrets that unfortunately became lies, which then involved friends, which all became unmanageable, and which finally imploded in a blaze. None of the secrets were significant, none of the lies too damaging, all friends tried to remain Switzerland (neutral), but everything finally imploded in the end (actually, over a really delicious dessert).

It was never the lie. It actually wasn't even the cover up. I could even get over involving the friends, but the last little lie told over a molten chocolate perfection (isn't anything sacred!) was the clincher. How do you say - the straw that broke the camel's back.

The simple little white lie at the end of the evening was the tiny lie that strung all the other stupid lies together. The thread (lie) that pulled all the other threads (lies) together in a very tight little knot (cluster #uck). The lie that divulged all the other hidden, little white lies.

Now, I felt badly for Mrs. R.R. because now I get it. Sometimes, you just don't want to go back. The sword has been brandished, and you are just done. You no longer care to be friends.

My bestie has moved far, far away (with the fella, of course, that stoked the kindling fires - lies). Luckily, for the time being, I will not be running into her around town, however, I do have a pre-programmed response in case I run into any mutual friends (although, I can't imagine mutual friends are too eager to pick up the phone and ring her either.)

Pre-programmed Response: At this time, . . . . . .

I imagine that over time I will come to miss my friend greatly. I imagine that over time I will forget all the small details (lies) that caused such a rift in our friendship. I imagine that over time forgiveness and compassion will kick in, and I will replace these dreadful current memories of the last few months with the previous, more joyful memories that we shared for 15 years. I will convince myself (rationalize) that 'said' awful behavior (lies) was a terrible lapse in judgment on my bestie's part brought on by silly infatuation with fella.

Conclusion:

At this time, . . . . . over time, . . . . . time.

Time heals all.

  - - - - -

Except in regards to too many pieces of chocolate molten cake. Which, by the way, is an   excellent remedy for a sad day:) It doesn't matter how quickly or how slowly you chew each bite - cake turns into calories / calories turn into fat / fat turns into gravity / and gravity is timeless. Ugh.

130 Candles on Her Cake!

Russia's Antisa Khvichava just celebrated her 130th birthday! Antisa lives in a remote village of the Soviet Republic of Georgia where she worked as a tea and corn picker up until age 85, when she chose to retire. Antisa's official birth date is said to be July 8th, 1880.

Antisa - Pretty in Pink

Initially when I read this fun fact - World's Oldest Living Person (Woman) Turned 130!

I thought - Wow!

Then I thought - OMG, 130 - really!!

Then I completely shifted my thoughts from the birthday queen Antisa and her over-sized, flaming birthday cake to myself (but, of course), and thought -

Yeech !!! I hope I don't live to be 130 years old.

Is that a moral sin to hope (pray) that I don't live to be 130 years old?

Would my dear sweet husband also need to live to be 130?  I need him to watch scary serial killer movies with?

Who would my friends be?

Would I even have any money left in my savings/retirement account?

How much money would I need to live to be 130?

Would there be any government assistance (Social Security)? Ha, ha!

Would I out live the people (darling niece & sweet nephew) that I had hoped to bribe with gifts to look after me and, subsequently, look after the people who are suppose to look after me - aka Nurse Bettys.

I quickly came to the realization that I don't want to live that long (130 years), but how long would be long enough, hmmm?

So, what started out as a silly believe-it-or-not blog, suddenly became this quite serious, mind bending blog - When Are Enough Candles on Your Birthday Cake. . . Enough?

 - - - - -

Things I Would Love to See Happen Before My Candles All Blow Out:

BP Oil Spill Cleaned Up, All of It

New Packaging for CDs (I mean, really - is all that tape that necessary?) I probably shouldn't even bother to put the CD-tape-thing on my list because CD's are probably on the brink of expiration anyway thanks to iTunes.

A Potion to Straighten my Hair that Doesn't Smell Like Spoiled Cupcakes

More Leg Room on Domestic Flights at No Extra Charge

Maddox & Shilo Get Hitched, and Their Parents (Brangelina) Disapprove

All Chewing Gum is Recalled Because it is Deemed Unsightly by FDA

Daniel Craig Gets to Play Bond Again

It is Deemed Fashion Appropriate by A.Wintour to Wear Low-Rise Jeans Well Into Your Betty-White-Years

My Car Will Actually Make It All the Way Home on Fumes

Botox Will Last a Lifetime

Dog Poop Dissolves Instantaneously, No Curbing Necessary

All Retail Stores Close on Sundays to Give Deserving Employees a Day Off

China Owes America

Barbie Can Make Diamonds in Her Easy Bake Oven

My Body Temperature Returns To a Stabilizing (and Breathable) 98.6 Degrees

- - - - -

Upon review of my list, I surmised that I am truly a deeply shallow person and it is perhaps best for all (mainly, myself) that I do live quite a bit longer in hopes that I might gain some sense of perspective, and emotional and intellectual range. 

Or, . . . .

Maybe it isn't so bad living in the moment and not fretting about what you can't control (like how many candles will be on your last birthday cake). I think that perhaps the best course of action (at least for me) is to take life one day at a time, try to avoid self-destructing, and always size-up on the birthday cake so it won't be such a shock one day when all your loving grandchildren carry the behemoth 16" cake ablaze with candles into the room filled with all who adore you (fire extinguisher in clear view) while all your besties belt out a heart warming (yet tone void) rendition of -

Happy Birthday To You, Happy Birthday To You, Happy Birthday Dear . . . . .

Happy Birthday To You,

and Many More, 

Until You Are 104 . . . . (130).

 - - - - - - -

I wonder what my dear friend Antisa would think about Shilo marrying Maddox . . . . I know, I know - Antisa doesn't even know who Shilo is.

But, if Antisa were shown a recent issue of People Magazine than I'm sure she too would be concerned why Shilo doesn't want to wear a pretty dress.  Doesn't every little girl want to dress up in something pretty and pink, sometimes? Hmmm.

4th of July Extravaganza Part II - Paying Forward

  

Customers always ask me - Is it better to arrive with the Hostess Gift, or to send the Gift in the mail after the 'visit' ? 

Well, my advice has always been predicated on the same question - 

How Well Do You Know Your Hostess? 

And, by well - I mean her taste, her style, her color palette, her entertaining sensibilities.

Chances are that the home (her 2nd, 3rd, or 4th) you are about to be a guest in is yet another reflection (extension) of your hostess and her personal style (or, at least her decorator's personal style, hee hee). 

I hear customers state all the time - "I don't care what the house looks like, I always give . . . .  for a hostess gift. You can never have too many."

How thoughtful. How controlling. Ugh. It's a good thing that you are so charming (not) and thoughtful (not), otherwise you may never be invited back. This guest usually falls under the category - 'obligatory' and is usually situated in the spare room over the garage. 

My answer - if you have been invited to someone's home as a guest (bestie or not) than I would chance to reason that you know them (lovely hostess and endearing husband) pretty well, and with a little thought, assistance, and confidence (ahem - effort), I am certain that (we) you could choose the ideal Hostess Gift that would properly reflect the anticipation of a lovely, fun filled, splashy beach holiday.

For instance - 

The Hostess With Too Many Powder Rooms

   

Linen Tissue Box Covers $43, Matching Guest Towels  $38, Sea Shell Soap $2.50   

The Hostess Who Loves Loves To Snack on Hors D'ourves

Pewter and Wood Crab Tray $240, Set of 4 Rope with Anchor Hors D'ourves Forks $50

The Libatious Hostess

Shell Glasses Large $15, Shell Glasses Small $12

French Hand Embroidered Cocktail Napkins, Crab, Shrimp, and Lobster $16

The Hostess Who Always Serves With A Smile

 

Ceramic and Pewter Tray $340. 

 

The Hostess Who Loves To Dine A-Casual

Les Toiles Du Soleil Table Runner 22x72 $65, Napkins $20 each

Melamine (Plastic) Tableware - Dinner $16, Salad/Dessert $13, Bowl $13

The Hostess With The Most-ess Table Linens

Le Jacquard Table Runner 22x79 $119, Napkins $21

Tse Tse Vase Large

The Hostess With the Clumsy Husband

Plastic Goblet $7, Plastic Tumbler $6, Plastic Pitcher $32

The Hostess Whose Compass Points Due North

 

"Can anyone tell me which way is the beach?" . . . . . Penguin $158

The Hostess Whose Dear Husband Insists That Thermostats Be Set At Frost-On-The-Windows Temperature.

Sferra Celine Throw (all cotton) in Slate Blue $70, Book $30

  

The Hostess Who Spas

By The Sea - Bath Gel $21, Bath Foam $34, Bath Salts $33, Wrapped Soap $14.50

The Hostess Who Loves to Laugh Out Loud

It goes beyond reason (at least, my reasoning) that hostess' love presents; even if they (bestie, husband's boss' conspicuous wife, zany great aunt, or soon to be in-laws) instruct - "Don't bring a thing. I have everything I need." 

Bring something. At least, a little something (gesture) to pave the golden way.  If 'The Holiday' turns out to surpass even your wildest vacation dreams and at some point you actually had a moment of  - 'Wow, I can't wait to do this again next year' than you might want to think of something that you noticed that they (hostess) did not seem to have and send 'said' item (quickly) in the mail with a thank you note. 

I have heard so many customers fret over the value of 'said' Hostess Gift, "How do I ever repay them? We ate at their 'club' at least once every day, and my daughter ordered the melted lump crab-meat sandwich 7 times! I told her (typical teenager) to order the cheeseburger, grrr. And, my husband, with his cocktails. How much do you think that I need to spend?" 

My advise, right or wrong, has always been it's not about money. (In fact, it should never be about money.) The Hostess Gift should reflect an ideal of what you think would be a lovely gesture. Hopefully, you (we) will be able to chose something that The Hostess will leave out, and every time she passes by or uses 'said' lovely gift, she thinks of you and the grand time you all shared that weekend at the shore.

Wasn't it a grand weekend? Weren't there fireworks? We should get together with them more often. Lovely Hostess reflects.

Warning - even if you don't get around to sending a gift (gesture), please remember to write a Thank You Note for a wonderful time with wishes to do it (free vacay) again soon.

Sand Piper Note Cards

also available in lobster $25 for a box of 10, Paperweight $32

If you can't seem to get around to writing the Thank You Note, then call.

And, if you can't find the number to call, then send an email.

And, . . . if you can't find the time to email, don't come complaining to me next year when you don't have any plans for the 4th, and you start that incessant whining about the insufferable heat. "I wish that someone had invited us to the shore for the 4th." Deep pout.

Too late! You can never pay backwards, sorry. It's the karmic law of Hostess Gifts - Those who arrive empty handed may very well find their calendars empty as well.

*All items available at either Indulge Saint Street (713.888.0181) or Indulge River Oaks Blvd. (713.521.7107) Please feel free to call or email (indulge@indulgedecor.com) for assistance.

- - - - -

2 impressive Hostess Gift suggestions featured by our dear friends at Vogue Magazine, July 2010 - Ya gotta love the conspicuous wealthy.

Chanel Boccie Ball Set $2,800

 

Hermes Terry Beach Mat $1,725

A quote from Editor: Virginia Smith - "Take one to your hostess, and no doubt you'll be invited back."

That's $4,525 if you splurged on both items - a toy for him and a terry mat for her.

This is when you catty readers cough up a giant fur ball of realism, achem.

Both items stunning, but really . . . . .? I guess if you are living in that world than friendship really does cost a lot, ha ha.

4th of July Extravaganza - Part 1, Cover Up

You've just received that much campaigned for invitation to your best friend's fab beach house for the 4th of July weekend, lucky you - you deserve it, ha ha. 

Well, we are all realists here, and I know that you are hoping that this invite will somehow become a tradition and that you will be invited every year to celebrate the 4th with your bestie (of the moment) at her lovely beach house in . . . . .

So, lets just get a few things clear ahead of time that will help you secure your position long term on bestie's unobstructed beach front balcony.

   

Rule Number 1 - Pack Appropriate Beach Attire: 

Translation - Your bestie will not appreciate you prancing around her family (husband) in a teensy bikini. Always have cute cover-up (that actually does cover) on hand for when sweet host's husband is near by (leering).

Petite Bateau Linen Dress $178, Petit Bateau Cotton Tank Dress $60

Raffia Hat $34, Stripe Hat $56

      

Claridge and King 'Boyfriend Shirt' $102, cute Raffia Hat $34

Rule Number 2 - Sun Causes Wrinkles:

    Wrinkles lead to aging. Aging leads to wasteful spending on botox, lasers, peals, creams, and surgery. Save yourself a few dreaded lines, not to mention tons of money, and wear a hat. These adorable hats are way more fashionable than wrinkles, hee hee.

"Crusher Hats" Taupe, Ecru, White - $34

 

Rule Number 3 - Be Prepared:

Nothing is worse than getting all lathered up and settled in on your (bestie's) chaise, and then remember that you have forgotten something really important in your room (far away). Have your beach bag already packed with your must-have beach essentials.

Sunglasses, Water, Flips, Sunscreen (face and body), Lip Gu, iPod, Hair Brush and Twistey, Reading Fodder, Camera . . . .  

Les Toiles du Soleil Canvas Totes $75, and Havaianas $22

    

Les Toiles du Soleil Canvas Mini Totes $34

Try to leave ubiquitous cell phone in room. You may have to start with baby steps, say an hour at at time, but remember you are on holiday, perhaps you don't have to check your email every second of the day. Remember other emailers (bestie's without beach houses - next summer's competition) might be on holiday also.

  

Rule Number 4 - Jewelry:

There's day-time-jewelry, and then there is day time jewelry.

In the immortal words of Kramer from Seinfeld, "The Sea was angry that day, my friend."

Don't wear jewelry to the beach that you are not willing to wear into the water. In other words, most beach thieves have caught on to Rolex watch hidden in toe of shoe, or the diamond ring stuffed down into secret pocket of beach bag next to the goopey sunscreens.

Sweet Grandad's Gold Rolex - Priceless

Wrath of sweet Grandmother if you lost her dear departed husband's gold watch while bobbing - endless!

We all know you have great jewelry, leave the crazy expensive stuff (diamonds) at home and go for a little lighter (less flashy) look for the beach. Trust me, the seagulls (and your hostess) don't care how many diamonds you can pile on at a time.

Like I said, it's not nice to outshine the hostess. You may have more diamonds, but remember - she has the lovely beach house! 

 

Nothing shines like 22kt gold. I love this Nancey Chapman 22kt. gold disc and leather necklace $4800.

Or, for just as much oomph, but way less money - this 22kt. gold Safia Day vermeil necklace $350

And, don't forget your Vrai Sugar Scrub and Vrai body Cream - every sun-goddess' essential.

Now that we've got the what to wear and what not to wear part covered (remember - appropriate beach cover-ups, ha ha), our next thrilling blog installment will be what to bring for a Hostess Gift. Remember, if you have a really great time at bestie's fab beach house, you might as well secure your position for next year with a most thoughtful present. After all that trouble (a year of unmitigated flattery), you would hate to blow your East-side protected dunes view on something as thoughtless as forgetting to thank your hostess properly.

Check back for pleasing Hostess Gifts.

Let's Talk Moles

C:

It all started with a dress, but doesn't it always. My very thoughtful sales girl at Gucci called to say that she had pulled a few things for me to try on. 

"There's this halter dress that is a must-have! I will never forgive you if you don't buy this  dress," stunning twenty-something sales girl threatens over the phone.

A halter dress? I consider. Why, I haven't bought a halter dress in years, and my anniversary is coming up, and I do have the vacation in the Bahamas to look forward to. Two immediate dress-up occasions that perhaps a new halter dress would be perfect for, hmmm. 

When I mentioned to my husband that I was headed for The Galleria to see a gal about a dress, sweet husband immediately stopped what he was doing (napping) and asked if he could come along (Apple Store strategically placed above Gucci and he really wants an iPad for his birthday.)

Now, it is really important to trust your sales girl. Any truly professional sales associate knows that if you look good than she looks good because let's face it - there are basically two sales built into every sale. If you look great in the must-have-dress than your best friend, or sister-in-law, or frenemy, or even cute girl standing in valet line waiting for her car will ask you where you got 'said' dress, and it is your unrequited obligation (karma) to thank the girl for asking and pass on the name of the store and if possible the name of the cute sales girl (Aveya) who pulled (hid) the dress (and, called you when must-have-dress was marked down 40%!) 

 

(Disclaimer - photo downloaded from internet and not actually me. My hair is not quite that dark, ha ha.) 

Well, the dress wasn't half bad on me and perhaps worth the trip to the mall after all.

Cute sales girl, "You rock that dress!"

Sweet husband, "Is it really 40% off?"

Glare.

I see we still have trust issues regarding true price of overpriced designer clothes (and purses).

In a feeble attempt to quickly rectify glare, husband sputters, "I would like the dress even if it wasn't on sale."

We are so not going to Apple store, now.

Turn head and glare at mouthy husband from other angle  (stupid comment worth double side-eyes.)

"I think that I will get the dress." And of course, my husband would like to pay full price if it's not too much trouble, hee hee. "How does the back look?" I turn my waist 3/4 to the right and crane my neck even further back right to have a look at the tushi.

 

(Disclaimer - again, not actually me.)

   

"Oh my God, what is that?! What is that giant black thing on my back!!! I-S-S-A-C !!!"

Issac rushes into the dressing room, gray suede loafers still in hand, "What?!" 

Freaking out, I ask. "What is that giant black thing in the middle of my back?"

"Oh that, no worries - it's just a mole."

"What do you mean it's just a mole! Is that black thing the weird scratchy thing on my back that I've had for like two years and I keep asking you what it is and you keep saying it's nothing!" Grrr.

"Yeah, it's nothing." Sweet husband replies not understanding what he did wrong this time.

Sales girl is now standing in dressing room door. "Is there a problem?" She asks.

How do I tell thoughtful sales girl that now I have a giant black mole on my back and probably will not even live long enough to pick dress up from alterations.

        

The next day at work I am telling my cute sales girls about heinous black mole on back that completely obstructed the only unflabby part of my entire body.

M. explains to me how serious moles are and that her sister had a melanoma cancerous mole when she was just seventeen years old and that her whole family is 'mole mapped' every year.

A customer eaves-dropping told me about a friend who had a 'freckle' under their arm and it turned out to be a malignant melanoma mole.

Everyone agreed, 'said' mole was hideous and needed to be looked at immediately and definitely removed.

When 'you' (one) comes face to face with a mole crisis, you will do anything to get the next available appointment. I took the next available appointment and put myself on the cancellation list. The appointment could not have come soon enough because all I could think about was the mole that I didn't even know I had (until a few days ago).

My mole doctor was much younger than me and moved and talked crazy fast. It was hard for me to keep up, but after the examination I was thankful that she was such a speedy-Gonzalez.

Dr. Mole started with my scalp and moved south and by south I mean territories that the sun never shines, nor wants to shine. I was glad that the examination was thorough, don't get me wrong, I just wished that I had known ahead of time so I could have 'tidied up' a bit in a few areas (if you catch my drift, ugh).

"Does this mole under your eye bother you. Would you like me to remove it?" Dr. Mole asked in a clinical manner.

"What mole under my eye?" I asked bewildered.

"Don't tell me you haven't seen it? It doesn't bother you that it is there? I can remove it no problem." Dr. Mole held up a small mirror just in front of my right eye.

I stared into the mirror, and Dr. Mole stared at me.

"Maybe if you held the mirror back a little I could see the mole better." I said, squinting and squirming.

What mole? Oh my God, now I need bifocals to see the moles on my face that I otherwise didn't even know existed, grrr.  Just something else to obsess about.

Dr. Mole took out a white pencil and began circling all the moles all over my body. And, there were a lot, ugh.

While she circled incessantly, Dr. Mole started her tutorial . . . .

The A, B, C's of Early Detection:

A: Asymmetry

B: Borders

C: Color Variegation

D: Diameter Enlargement

"The mole on your back fits all four of the A, B, C, D criteria, but it is not dangerous. But, we take it off anyway because it is in the way (just under bra strap), and uncomfortable, and ugly."

Dr. Mole looked at me (mole leper) and asked, "In regards to the other moles, which ones would you like me to take off and which ones don't bother you and we can leave on."

Still freaked out, I replied. "Take them all off. I want to be mole free. I can't take all this worrying and angst."

What I failed to ask was that with each mole that was to be removed, there would be a dreaded shot to deaden the area around it, ouch!

17 shots. 17 moles removed (unsightly skin tags included). Let's just say this - I'm glad that I had thought ahead to have my sweet husband come pick me up after my appointment.

I went straight home to convalesce.

My husband poked his head into the bedroom and asked, "Can I get you anything?"

"Yes, you can give me my anniversary present now."

"I meant - Would you like some hot tea?"

I know, I'm a brat. Can't blame a girl for trying, hee hee.

In case you were wondering, I left the cute freckle (mole) under my eye that I can't even see with or without bifocals.

  

- - - - -

Like I said, it all started with a dress.

Must-Have-Halter-Dress Fashion Tips and Engineering Genius:

Now, a girl my age doesn't just buy a must-have halter dress without some type of planning (structurally speaking, of course). A friend of mine had just told me all about the wonders of . . . .

NuBra Seamless Adhesive Bra - $45

Hollywood Fashion Tape -$9

 

(Both engineering marvels purchased at Top Drawer Lingerie, ask for Susan or Mary Katherine)

I bought one other adhesive gizmo that I didn't like so I will not suggest that product ($20).

Total Uplifting Experience - $80.11

Application Time - Ten minutes! 

Result - Gravity Cheated

Talk about a quick fix, wish I could NuTushi a different region, hee hee.

Insider Fashionista Tip:

• Apply all uplifting instruments solo. This is not something that should be witnessed by significant other. When applying 'said' tape, think less hurricane masking and more Herve Leger, hee hee. 

• Add an extra piece of Fashion Tape between NuBra and skin, you know, in case of slippage.

• Carry a few extra pieces of Fashion Tape with you in case you might need to make some engineering corrections. For instance, I taped standing up and I actually spent most of the evening sitting down at a table (adjustments had to be made in the front that I had not foreseen).
  

- - - - -

Did I mention that there was a really great 'Concealer Coat' that might have been on sale also . . . ?

           

Just in case I start sweating uncontrollably and tape stops sticking, hee hee.

(Don't) Smash His Camera

 

Indulge

He has been hosed down by friends of Brigitte Bardot in St. Tropez, punched in the jaw by Marlon Brando, had his tires slashed by Elvis Presley's security, been beaten up by Richard Burton's bodyguards, and been sued by Jacqueline Kennedy. Twice.

He is Ron Galella, a "pioneer paparazzo", one of the most controversial celebrity photographers in the world. 

 

Ron Galella in 2008

 

His work has been featured in hundreds of publications, including Time, Harper's Bazaar, Vogue, Vanity Fair, People, Rolling Stone, The New Yorker, The New York Times, and Life.

But he is perhaps best known for is notoriously obsessive following of Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis. Although it seems nothing near the level of paparazzi attention celebrities have to deal with today, Galella unapologetically stalked Jackie for decades. 

 

Galella with Jackie in 1979

 

In 1972, she obtained a restraining order to keep Galella 150 feet away from her and her children. Galella violated the order several times. On the other hand, Galella takes credit, through his incessant day-to-day photographic coverage of her, for making Jackie the style icon that she is today.  The New York Post once called it "the most co-dependent celeb-paparazzi relationship ever". 

 

  
Jackie with her niece and nephew in Capri, 1970, and in New York in 1971.

 

Apparently, Galella does not see the parallel between his work with his beloved celebrity subjects and the aggressive breed of paparazzo that work in Tinseltown today. Galella says he doesn't understand the new generation; the paparazzo who assault stars in order to film them angry or scared, who zoom in on cellulite, or who break into their bedrooms to steal mementos and other "evidence."

 

 

 

Jackie with John F. Kennedy Jr., in New York

 

 

In fact, Galella prides himself on his cleverness in getting the pictures he needed in the years before crazy long-distance lenses and digital media. He worked in a different era, long before there were cell phones and mobs on the red carpets. He wore wigs, glasses, and hats, and faked credentials. He once cut a hole into a hedge to get a shot of Doris Day sunbathing. He followed Jackie to a Chinese restaurant and crouched behind a coatrack in order to, in minimal light, shoot her dining with Doris Duke and I.M. Pei.

 

Jackie in 1972.

 

Those were the days, according to Ron Galella. Today, with shots of a bald Britney Spears going postal with the umbrella on K. Fed's car going for hundreds of thousands of dollars a pop, the paparazzi care for nothing but money. "They're unskilled. It's terrible."

His favorite photograph he took of Jackie? Perhaps his most iconic, titled, Windblown Jackie, an image of Jackie striding down the street, her hair blowing into her face as she turns, smiling slightly, apparently in response toward a cab's honking orn, towards the photographer. Galella calls it his "Mona Lisa Smile".

 

 

Windblown Jackie

 

Whatever your feelings about pioneer paparazzo Ron Galella, there is no doubt that he is an artist, having had his work shown in the likes of places like The Museum of Modern Art in New York and the Tate Modern in London.

Ron Galella is the subject of a 2010 documentary directed by Leon Gast called Smash His Camera, aptly named for a phrase that Jackie once muttered to a policeman watching Galella follow her.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Memorial Day Madness

C:

Formerly known as Decoration Day, Memorial Day commemorates U.S. soldiers who died fighting for their country. Memorial Day was first enacted to honor the soldiers who died fighting in the American Civil War and was extended after World War I to honor all American soldiers who have died in battle.

Memorial Day is actually something I do think about. My Grandfather fought in WWI as an officer in the Army and again in WWII as an officer in the Navy and is buried at Arlington Cemetery (his dear wife, my grandmother, is laid to rest next to him). My father enlisted in the Army in WWII and re-enlisted as an officer in the Army in the Korean War. I wouldn't say necessarily that I come from a bear-to-arms-gun-fight'n kind of family, more like a family of really good duck hunters with a really strong sense of allegiance to their country.

(Now, where was Obama again, Chicago for Memorial Day . . . hmmm. . . ?)

But, I'm a realist and I get that if you didn't have a sweet 'ole granddad or a Pop Davis in your life reminding you every year on Memorial Day what an honor it is to stand up for your country and fight, then you probably wouldn't remember why Memorial Day is considered a Federal Holiday and the mail isn't delivered, and some of your favorite restaurants and stores (like Indulge, hee hee) are closed that day. Some of you may be thinking Memorial Day signifies the end of the school year, some may be thinking white shoes, others the Indy 500, and still others are focused on the Memorial Day slasher sales, not me. All I can think about and try not to think about is the dreaded annual Memorial Day pool party.

A week or so before the big event, I step onto the scale just to let myself know how it is going to go with the whole bathing suit thing ahead of time (a reality check prequel). I know from past experience that the scale does not lie. You can lean this way or that way, you can stand or squat, you can rest one hand against the wall, you can even take your watch off or pin your hair up, but sooner or later you've got to pay the fiddler - and by that I mean you are 'the fiddler' and you are going 'to pay.' 

I stood in front of the mirror, closed my eyes, and commemorated Memorial Day's past. Memorial Days from years ago where cute swim suits were worn like a badge of honor, not covered in protective armor (Missoni floor length beach cover-up.) The fiddler in my head played taps respectfully in the background of my mind.

I winced. How could I let this happen, again? Every year, it's the same old thing. (In this scenario, I guess that would make me the 'old thing,' grrr.) Another five pounds. And what's just crazy is that every year I appear completely caught off guard that it (5lb's) has attached itself to me in all the worst places. 

I dig the bathing suit (at this point in my life, I only have one bathing suit) out of the bottom of the drawer, shake the dust off it, tie it on and then rip it off. I somehow manage to have an irrational anger at 'said' swimsuit for it's betrayal of our relationship. I conjure up thoughts like - stupid suit must have shrunk and the elastic must be stretched out, and my favorite, maybe I have it on backwards. But alas, I come to grips with my misfortune and accept the fact that it's not the suit. In fact ladies, I've learned over the years - it is never the suit, ugh.

Memorial Day Madness ensues.

I exercise everyday for a week, and binge only once - (2) fried soft shell crabs, pecan pie a-la-mode, champagne, wine, oh, more wine, oops. That was a minor setback. A whole weeks worth of dieting down the ubiquitous dieting drain.

I sit by the pool with my big hat, big sunglasses, and bigger than usual beach cover-up strategically draped to guard all the worst places. I assume that I do not have to go into any type of detail describing all-the-worst-places because I would imagine that my 'worst places' are in the same zones as your 'worst places' and conjure up images of my favorite 80's cartoon character - Mr. Bumpy.

 

Did I mention that Mr. Bumpy's bestfriend is Squishington? Are those names a metaphor for cellulite, or what?

I can't say for sure if it was hotter this Memorial Day than usual but I was hotter (and, I don't mean hotter in a Kardashian kind of way.)

 

(Those Kardashians really give those Jersey Shore girls a run for their money in those high heels. Their mother must be so proud.)

I either had a heat stroke or a heat flash. All I know is that I lasted about two hours and most of that time was spent submerged in the temperature controlled chilled pool.

While gunshots were being fired across the country to commemorate Memorial Day (Now, where was Obama again?), canons were going off in my head. Warning. Danger. Warning. Danger. Critical time. Another 5 lbs.

5 lbs. doesn't sound like much, right. But, we all know how 5 lbs. easily turns into 10. And, for those of you who have ever had to lose 10 lbs quick that is really hard. Now, you might rationalize - July 4th is a month away, and Labor Day is 2 months away. There is plenty of time to correct the errors of my ways (5lbs.) Well, I'm not so young anymore and I can't just skip a meal and have a flat stomach the next day. For me to lose 5 lbs. is really hard. In all reality, it will probably take me until my July 12th Harbour Island deadline to lose it (stupid 5 lbs.), ugh.

Over the Memorial Day weekend, I immersed myself in every quick fix, lose-weight-now magazine article and this is what I came away with. These will be my weight loss regimen tips:

 Exercise:

Exercise Note: Every single actress that I read about (Cameron, Paltrow, Aniston, J.Lo, Alba) all work out several days a week for at least an hour with a trainer. I don't have a trainer, so I will have to be my own drill sergeant. I will implement a strict regimen of cardio and weight training - an at home self-imposed boot camp.

I will walk 3 miles every day / 5 days a week

I will do 100 stomach crunches a day / 5 days a week

I will use my 5 lbs weights (stored under chest in bedroom, very dusty) to strengthen and tighten my feeble arms / 5 days a week

I will do lunges and squats (even though I hate doing lunges more than anything in the entire world.) / 5 days a week

I will sweat / 5 days a week

I will report my calisthenic routine everyday in entirety and with complete honesty to understanding friend / 5 days a week

I will not mention any of this to my husband because he is very sweet (and smart) and has not mentioned the 5 pounds at all. My mother on the other hand pointed out in her way that my favorite pair of white jeans seemed to have shrunk again this summer.

Diet

Diet Note:  Every single actress that I read about watches what she eats and drinks. 

Dieting Tips:

Eat most of your meals at home. (There is a definite reason why food tastes so good in restaurants - you would never actually use as much butter, oil . . . as they do when you cook.)

Portion Control - make a fist with your hand - that is how big your stomach is. Get it, do not eat more than your fist at a time.

Three Square Meals a Day (studies show 4-6 small meals easily turn into 4-6 medium sized meals)

The Fallacy of Salads (order the dressing on the side, otherwise you might as well order a hamburger!)

The Fallacy of Fish - by nature fish does not taste that good. The batter, the sauce, the butter . . . those are the things that make fish taste good. Stick with the grilled chicken.

It's not the carbs, it's the sugar! Watch your sugar intake.

Water. Drink tons of water. (Tip: drink a tall glass of water before each meal and you will feel more full.)

And remember, in dieting it's all accounting:  Less calories, More exercise = Weight Loss.

You can lay in bed at night and rationalize all you want about how the pounds are going to just melt away with that fad diet of yours, and that gravity will reverse itself, and your tushi will plump back up on it's own, that kind of rationale is what dreams are made up of.

I, on the other hand, am going to hit the pavement hard. My pounds, and bumps, and jiggles are going to firm up. I am committed. I am a 5 lb.-weight-loss-machine. Plus, I'm kind of angry at myself in a sort of year-after-year repetitive way.

Memorial Day Purchase - Went to buy cute, new bathing suit for Harbour Island and as incentive for 5 lb weight loss. Quickly turned my attention to cover-ups, and settled on new floppy hat. Emotionally (and physically), not ready yet for new swimsuit. Feel as though old swimsuit and I must get through this together. 

Insider Dieting Tip:

I plan to enjoy tasty, refreshing yogurt with granola and fresh fruit every morning for breakfast. It took me about 5 tries and something horrid that resembled mayonnaise in texture and flavor until I found this tasty treat.

The Greek Gods Yogurt

(Full Disclosure - O.K., so I didn't walk this morning like I'm suppose to because I wrote this stupid blog instead, but for sure, I will walk tonight.) But, I did enjoy a triple yogurt parfait for breakfast.

Triple Yogurt Parfait Recipe:

Granola

Berries - strawberries, blueberries, and any other berry in your fridge.

and, Greek Gods Yogurt.

At least, if you can't get the exercising part right, get the eating part right :)

PS, hope to pass you by on the streets as I am working up a glorious sweat.

Van Der Creep

 

Indulge

On June 2nd, the body of Stephanie Flores Ramirez, daughter of a high profile Peruvian businessman and race car driver Ricardo Flores, was found in a hotel room in Lima.

A hotel room reserved under the name Joran Van der Sloot. The same Van der Sloot that was arrested twice, but never convicted, in connection with the disappearance of Natalee Holloway, the Alabama teen that went missing while vacationing in Aruba five years ago. Hauntingly, the disappearance of Natalee was almost five years ago to the day that Ramirez was found dead.

Yesterday, Van der Sloot was arrested in Chile and extradited to Peru, where he will be charged with the first degree murder of Stephanie Flores Ramirez.

 

 
Stephanie Flores Ramirez (left)

 

Van der Sloot, a 22 year-old Dutch playboy and poker player, met Ramirez at a casino on Wednesday night; drugs typically employed in rape cases were found in her car. Eerily, Van der Sloot met Holloway at a card table in Aruba when he was just 17.
What's more, on Thursday, the U.S. Attorney's Office in Alabama received an arrest warrant for Van der Sloot on wire fraud and exortion charges. Apparently, money was wired to him from a Birmingham institution after Van der Sloot requested $250,000 in exchange for information on Natalee's whereabouts.

 

 

 

Obviously, as is widely reported, the guy is just plain arrogant. On top of his request for several thousand dollars to give information he should have given to authorities in Aruba five years ago, he has also been overheard bragging about how he killed Holloway, and was caught by an investigative journalist on tape in Bankok selling Thai women into prostitution in Holland.

I guess some sort of vindication and relief comes with the news of his arrest and subsequent captivity. But I can't get over that this guy, after being arrested twice for the suspicion of the murder of Natalee Holloway, managed to escape and evade jail for five years.

Was his brazen and brutal murder of Stephanie Flores Ramirez a flagrant gesture to prove to authorities what idiots they'd been in not convicting him? Or are there other girls out there who have gone missing but have been unreported? Perhaps, as Van der Sloot loves the thrill of high stakes poker, he loves the thrill of the gamble of escaping murder? 

 

 

Either way, the disappearance of Natalee Holloway and the unfortunate death of Stephanie Flores Ramirez, while incredibly devastating, should serve as cautionary tales for everyone else.

Many high-school and college-aged girls are, at this very time of year, traveling abroad to Central America and Europe for graduation trips and sorority retreats and backpacking treks with their friends. Perhaps now they'll listen to their parents' advisory warnings not to get in a car with a stranger, not to become separated from their groups of friends, and not to leave the bar with a seemingly charming young guy.

 

 

 

Real E$tate

Indulge

We've all read about Oprah's extravagant $50 million Montecito home, the $20+ million hedge fund homes in Greenwich, and the outrageous gold-encrusted mansions in Dubai. Apparently, you ain't seen nothin' yet! The Overseas Property Mall (a web guide to international real estate investment) has compiled a list of the world's ten most expensive homes; and you'll never guess where the number one most expensive home in the world is...

 

10. Dracula's Castle, Romania - $135 million

 

Built in the 14th century, with 57 rooms (including 17 bedrooms!), it is now a national monument and museum. 450 million tourists visit the castle every year, no doubt due in part to the legend surrounding the home.

The price is based on what the castle was listed for when it went on the market in 2007 - however, the Romanian royal family decided not to sell it and to make it into a museum instead.

9. Updown Court, Windlesham, Surrey - $139 million

  Updown Court is the most expensive private residence in the UK and is larger in area than both of the royal residences (Hampton Court Palace and Buckingham Palace). The home is set on 58 sprawling acres of landscaped grounds, formal gardens, and peaceful woodlands. 

The house boasts 1023 rooms (24 are bedrooms), a two-lane bowling alley, five swimming pools, a squash court, a tennis court, a wine cellar, a panic room, a 50-seat movie theater, an underground garage, and a $3 million heated marble driveway (who knows why you need a heated driveway). 

 

 

 

8. Spelling Manor, Los Angeles, CA - $150 million

Built in 1988, the home of the late Aaron Spelling is the largest home in Los Angeles County, with 23 rooms and 56,500 square feet of space on more than 4.6 acres. The house has a screening room, a gym, a bowling alley (who knew there were so many bowlers?), three gift-wrapping rooms, and a tennis court.

   

7. The Pinnacle, Montana - $155 million

The Pinnacle is the home of Time and Edra Blixseth, owners of the billionaires-only golf and ski resort called the Yellowstone Club in Montana. Although the largest and grandest property on the resort, it is small in comparison to many of the homes on this list - it only has ten bedrooms! The property boasts heated floors, a heated driveway (again with the heated driveway!?) and fireplaces in each one of the bathrooms.

 

 

6. Franchuk Villa, Kensington - $161 million

This five-story Victorian villa in Kensington, England, was purchased in 2008 (as the most expensive home ever sold at the time) by Ukrainian business woman and philanthropist Elena Franchuk. The home has an underground indoor swimming pool, a movie theater, a panic room, a sauna, and a gym.

Until 1997, the home served as an all girls' prep school; in 2006, developers purchased the property for $50 million, did $20 million in renovations, and sold it.

 

5. Hearst Mansion, Beverly Hills - $165 million

The former estate of newspaper magnate William Randolph Hearst occupies 6.5 acres in the heart of Beverly Hills. Bought in 1947 for $120,000, Hearst lived there until his death four years later.

The main house has a two-story library, a living room with several fireplaces and 22 ft ceilings, a disco, a private cinema, three swimming pools, and two tennis courts. There are five other residences, giving the property a total of 72,000 square feet of living space and 29 bedrooms total. JFK and his new wife Jackie Kennedy spent part of their honeymoon there!

 

4. Fairfield Pond, The Hamptons - $170 million

 Home of Ira Rennert, reclusive investor and businessman, Fairfield Pond in Sagaponack, NY, is considered one of the largest residential compounds in the U.S. Facing the Atlantic Ocean, the house sits on 63 acres and totals over 110,000 square feet, 29 bedrooms, and 39 bathrooms. The house has a dozen chimneys, a 91-foot formal dining room, a basketball court, bowling alley, two tennis courts, two squash courts, and a $150,000 hot tub.

In 2007, the property taxes paid on the house were in excess of $397,500, putting its estimated value at $170 million, and making it the most expensive house in the Hamptons (no easy feat, I assure you).

 

3. The Penthouse at One Hyde Park, London - $200 million

 Located in Knightsbridge, in central London, One Hyde Park is London's most expensive new address, the developers already having sold apartments in the buildings at a rate of as high as $10,000 per square foot. The penthouses at One Hyde Park feature bulletproof windows, purified air systems, and panic rooms. What's more, the building has communal spas, squash courts, and wine tasting rooms, as well as 24-hour room service.

 

 

2. Villa Leopolda, French Riviera - $506 million

Located in Villefranche-sur-Mer on the French Riviera, Villa Leopolda was built in 1902 by King Leopold II of Belgium as a present for his mistress. In 2008, Russian billionaire Mikhail Prokhorov put down a deposit on the home with the intent of purchasing it from then-owner Lily Safra, who inherited the property in 1999 upon her husband's death. The deal feel through a few months later, and unfortunately for Prokhorov, a French court ruled that the deposit was Safra's to keep.

 

 

1. Antilla, Mumbai - $1 billion

Antilla is the Mumbai home of Mukesh Amabani, head of India-based petrochemical giant Reliance Industries and the fifth richest man in the world (Forbes estimates his net worth of $43 billion), and his wife, Nita.

The couple commissioned the home in 2005; at the time, they lived in a 22-story Mumbai tower which they had spent years remodeling to meet their needs(and those of their three children).

On top of six stories of parking lots, the living quarters begin at a lobby with nine elevators. The house also has a large ballroom with crystal chandeliers covering 80% of it ceiling, several stages for entertainment, an indoor/outdoor bar, and an "entourage room" for security guards, assistants, and other employees to relax.

It is 27 stories, 550 feet high and has 400,000 square feet of interior space.

 

And there you have it. The ten most expensive pieces of real estate in the world. And a heck of a lot of in-home bowling alleys, tennis courts, and movie theaters, did you notice?

 

Master Masterpiece Heist

 

Indulge

Last Thursday, a man walked into the Museum of Modern Art in Paris in the wee hours of the morning and walked right out with five paintings valued at over $150 million. Matisse's "La Pastorale" and Picasso's "Le pigeon aux petits-pois" were among the stolen works (including a Braque, a Modigliani, and a Leger). 

 

The paintings' frames, which the thief left outside the museum along the Seine River

 

The heist appears to be one of the biggest ever, due to the prominence of and combined value of the works, as well as the high profile nature of the museum (which is located across the Seine River from the Eiffel Tower). 

 
 

 

Clockwise from upper left: Picasso's "Le pigeon aux petits-pois", Matisse's "La Pastorale", Braque's "L’olivier pres de l’Estaque", and Modigliani's "La femme a l’eventail"

 

One very French chief of police stated that the thief will not be able to "do anything with these paintings. All countries in the world are aware, and no collector is stupid enough to buy a painting that, one, he can’t show to other collectors, and two, risks sending him to prison."

"These five paintings are un-sellable, so thieves, sirs, you are imbeciles, now return them," he added.

 

The thief, who was caught on security cameras in the museum but was not identifiable, is being called "The Pink Panther" in the media.

The museum's had a faulty (as in, not working) security alarm system for over two months, and the so-called Pink Panther managed to slip by three security guards, who were presumably dozing off.

Alice Farren-Bradley of the Art Loss Registry in London (who knew there was an Art Loss Registry?) said that it would be "virtually impossible" to sell such prominent paintings on the open market and that typically stolen works fetch much lower prices on the black market than they would, say, at auction (remember this post)?

Of course when I think of art heists I think of Thomas Crown Affair, How To Steal a Million, and Ocean's Twelve...

   

But this kind of thing doesn't only happen in the movies.

 

 

In 1911, Italian immigrant Vincenzo Perugia stole the Mona Lisa from the Louvre in Paris. Perugia, who worked there, hid in room in the museum until well into the night and slipped past the guards. The Mona Lisa wasn't found for over two years; Perugia was jailed but was touted as a hero in Italy, for trying to bring the country's prized art back to its roots.

In 1994, Edvard Munch's The Scream was stolen from the National Gallery in Oslo, Norway, and held for ransom; it was recovered later that year.

There are at least a dozen other instances of famous works being stolen out of museums, sometimes in plain sight. What's more, not all the works have been recovered.

In September of 1972, armed thieves broke into the Museum of Fine Arts in Montreal and made off with jewelry, figurines, and 18 paintings estimated to be worth a total of $2 million at the time, including a rare Rembrandt. The works have never been recovered, and in 2003 it was estimated that the Rembrandt alone would be worth well over $1 million. 

While the blatant theft of these great works of art, many of them displayed in public for the purpose of teaching and history, is certainly disappointing, you gotta admit it's ballsy. Walking out of a museum with art under your arm? In this instance, in broad daylight? The French chief of police may call him an "imbecile," but I call him "brave".

 

 

 

 

Hot Mama

C:

I haven't been feeling well, lately. It's not that I have been feeling bad, it's just that I haven't been feeling like myself for a while (a long while). Unfortunately for me, I'm not the hypochondriac type who goes running off to the doctor at the first sign of any abnormal symptoms no matter how many (29+, or so) or drastic change in behavior (I'm hot and I want to be alone.)

Traditionally, I am more the self-awareness, self diagnosing, self medicating type.

In other words, a good night's sleep usually heals all, or at least it used to.

- - - - -

It all started when the ACs (plural) broke, or at least, I thought they had. I had the AC guy out once to the house and at least three times to the store to check the units out thoroughly. With each billable visit, the kind, patient AC repairman smiled, assured me that all the AC units were in usual working order and cooling just fine.

To which I responded each time, "But don't you think it should be colder? Doesn't it need more of that freon stuff? It's just not as cool as it was last year?  Did you check the actual temperature of the room against what the thermostat says? Can you do that, please!!!" The please actually came out more like a plea.

Mr. AC Repairman smiled and promised to have one last look (freak) before he took off.  

Night after night, I would wake up around 2:38 a.m. completely drenched in sweat. Again and again, I would check the thermostat to see what was wrong with it.

In a cloud of insanity and fatigue, I plotted - I'm going to drive over to MR. AC Repairman's house and pour a bucket of hot water all over him as he lays peacefully sleeping in his bed. Then I'm going to have his AC repairman's license revoked, ha!

I stared at the dogs and wondered how they could be sleeping so comfortably when the AC was obviously not working to capacity, again. I switched the button from 69 degrees auto to 69 on, again. I returned to bed and was immediately irritated at sweet husband for sleeping through difficult and trying AC problems.

I laid in bed for the next several hours wondering how the AC unit could sound like it was working, and, yet not actually be working. Then, I fixated on the fact that dear, sweet husband was completely useless in matters of AC crisis and showed no humanity for me and the continuous rise of my body temperature. With each one of his relaxed, calm exhales, I grew irrationally angrier at him until I came up with the idea of pouring hot water all over him while he slept peacefully. Punishing irritating husband for stupid Mr. AC Repairman's ineptness would be just as satisfying at the moment.

I finally fell back asleep somewhere around 5:38 a.m. under a blanket of sweat, desperation and fatigue. 

Feelings of insanity amplified. Fatigue, desperation, lack of clarity, memory loss, and irrational hatred toward all food and beverages that I once loved served above room temperature heightened. And, forget about wanting to go for a walk, or relax in a hot bath at the end of another tiresome day (which had been one of my greatest pleasures in life). Now, all I could think about was redirecting the AC vents in the family room over my favorite couch for greater maximization (relief and refrigeration).

 - - - -

Last week, I met my cute girlfriends for lunch at a neighborhood cafe. 'The Girls' had all gotten there before me, ordered, and were seated at a table with coffee and ice water at hand.

"Sorry, I'm late. I couldn't figure out what to wear. All my clothes feel so itchy and hot. I changed shirts like 3 times. I think the cat has fleas and now I have fleas in my t-shirts. Can t-shirts have fleas? Stupid cat."

Girlfriends all politely stared at me.

All of a sudden, I panicked, "Oh my God, is the AC broken in here? Why is it so hot in here? Aren't you guys hot?" I asked, exasperated while fanning myself with a stack of paper napkins.

Girlfriends continued to stare, not quite as politely.

"I can't believe that  I wore these jeans, ugh - they're so tight. How can my jeans be this tight, I just wore them yesterday?" Heart racing. "Ugh, I can't breathe."

Girlfriends put their eating utensils down.

"I shouldn't have ordered coffee. I need water. Waiter!  Water!  Hurry!" 

Suddenly, a bead of sweat began to form on my upper lip. Hot molten lava coursed through my veins. Another stream of sweat formed just under my bra and began to run down my abdomen until it pooled in an expanse of bloat (fat) just above what used to be (yesterday) the comfortable waist band of my low-rise jeans. Can't breathe. Heart palpitating. More sweat. More heat. Cold chill.

Ahhh, it's over. Whatever it was.

Girlfriends all looked concerned.

"Did you guys feel that that blast of hot air? Wow, it's hot in here. Maybe we should go someplace else where the AC works."

Girlfriends all agreed that they were perfectly comfortable and that the AC in the restaurant was working just fine.

Frenemies!

"Have some ice water." A..(who celebrated her 50th birthday two years ago) held up one of the five glasses of ice water on the table. "Can I give you a little advice - To start, always ask for ice water . . . . ."

- - - - -

That night, I dreamt that I was vacationing on a volcano in Iceland. I glanced at the clock in despair - 2:38 a.m.

 

Need I say more.

 - - - -

So, in my typical self diagnosing fashion, I got up out of bed (pool of sweat) and turned the computer on. I glanced over at my sweet husband, lightly snoring (Hate him!) and the slumbering dogs (Traitors!) and tried to find a cooling AC vent to sit under (Love lap tops!).

I simply Googled - 'symptoms of menopause' and this is what came up:

LIST OF THE 34 MENOPAUSE SYMPTOMS

(Yeah right - 34! How can there possibly be 34 symptoms for just one - . . . ause?)

Hot Flashes, Flushes and / or Cold Flashes

Night Sweats

Irregular Periods, Menstrual Irregularities

Loss of Libido

Vaginal Dryness

Mood Swings, Sudden Tears

Fatigue

Hair Loss or Thinning

Sleep Disorder - With or Without Night Sweats

Difficulty Concentrating, Disorientation, Mental Confusion

Disturbing Memory Loss

Dizziness, Light Headedness, Episodes of Loss of Balance

Weight Gain

Incontinence Upon Sneezing or Laughing

Sudden Bouts of Bloat

Increase in Allergies

Changes in Fingernails - softer, crack or break easier

Changes in Body Odor

Bouts of Rapid Heart Beat

Depression

Anxiety, Feeling Ill at Ease

Irritability

Panic Disorders, Feelings of Dread, Apprehension, Doom

Breast Pain

Headaches 

Aching, Sore Joints & Muscles

Bad Taste in Mouth, Change in Breath Odor

Electric Shock Sensation Under the Skin

Digestive Problems, Gastrointestinal Distress, Indigestion, Flatulence, Gas Pain, Nausea

Gum Problems

Increased Tension in Muscles

Itchy, Crawly Skin

Tingly Extremities

Osteoporosis

   

I'll be damned - I have almost every single symptom on the stupid list. I can for sure say that I have at least 29 out of 34 of the symptoms. I'm not sure about vaginal dryness, but really who is???!!!

When I asked my other ice-water-drinking-friends how many of the symptoms they suffered from on the list, they all confessed very high marks and didn't realize that it was all related to one thing - estrogen, or in our cases - the lack of estrogen.

In response to my 6 month 'heating-up-period,' I get that a routine visit (at least once a year) to the 'lady-doctor' would be in order for anyone approaching my age (45+). I can see how really great it would be for someone (a professional) to tell you that you are not going insane and that what you are going through is perfectly normal for someone around your age.  Your age being somewhere after traditional childbearing years (40) but before menopause (50).

If you had told me a year ago that I would be relieved to know that I had all these dreadful symptoms, I would say that you were crazy. But, after actually feeling crazy for the last six months, I am more than relieved to know that I do have these symptoms and that I'm actually a  text book / Google case for . . . . growing older.

I went on to read further about Pre-Menopause, Menopause, and Post Menopause and this is what I learned - 

I am /we are pretty much screwed for the next 5 to 10 years and might as well tape a note to the refrigerator door saying -

I am sorry for anything I might say or do over the next decade that may be misconstrued in a negative or mean way.

There, that is my defense. That is all I can say, at this time -

Sorry. A thousand sorry-s. 

And, I will try to remember to think happy, rational, sane thoughts moments before I go street-rat-crazy on you, again.

 - - - - -

PS - I used to think that God was punishing woman for the whole 'Eve-Adam-Apple-Thing' with monthly visits from Aunt Flo, but I gotta tell ya - that was foreplay. This after 45 thing, when you have the 29+ symptoms and your Aunt Flo visits - all at the same time . . . .  That, that is the real punishment. That is God getting even with poor-misunderstood Eve. 

- - - - -

One more thing, when selecting a table at your favorite restaurant - Ask for a table under an AC vent. Trust me, you will thank me when the hot entree arrives, wink wink. And, don't forget to ask the nice waiter for ice water as soon as you sit down, "With lots of ice, please."

$106.5 Million Mistress

Indulge

Last week a Picasso painting - which he painted of his mistress in 1932 - sold at Christie's for $106.5 million, making it the most expensive piece of art ever sold at auction.

The piece, titled "Nude, Green Leaves and Bust" (he couldn't even name it after her?), measures nearly 5" by 4" and was reportedly painted in just one day.

 
 

Nu au Plateau de Sculptor (Nude, Green Leaves and Bust), 1932

 

 The bidding lasted just 8 minutes, and the auction house reportedly had nine bidders active after the opening bid (which was $58 million!) The winning bidder was not identified, but placed the winning bid over the phone. Over the phone!

The painting, referred to as the most anticipated work to come to the market from a private sale in the last decade, belonged to Frances Brody, founding benefactor of the Los Angeles County Museum of art and widow of real estate investor Sidney Brody. Mrs. Brody, who passed away at the age of 93 in November of last year, had several items up for auction that same night, including pieces by Matisse, Henry Moore, and Alberto Giacommetti. Christie's expected the sale of the Brody estate to fetch more than $150 million in what the auction house called "one of the most valuable single-owner" groupings ever offered. Their expectations were far-surpassed, however, with sales that night ending up at over $225 million.

 

Frances Brody

 

Now, obviously most of the world's most valuable paintings and artworks are housed in museums (take the Mona Lisa, for instance, which in the 1960's was valued at over $100 million - imagine what it would be now!). But there are several famous works that have fetched enormous selling prices.

 

 

This Jackson Pollock, titled "Number 5, 1948" (1948) was privately sold in 2006 by record and film producer David Geffen to an unidentified buyer for $140 million.

 

 

Another Picasso, titled "Garcon a la Pipe" (1904) was sold at auction in 2004 for $104.1 million.

 

Rounding out the top ten most expensive paintings sold are a de Kooning, two Klimts, a Warhol, three Picassos total, a Titian, and a Frances Bacon.

   

 

 

Where are all the great masters, you ask? These paintings are beautiful but what about realism, the impressionists, post-impressionism, etc? What types of prices do those fetch?

Well, of course many if not most of the pieces by "the great masters" hang in museums. But some of them have been privately owned or held and then sold.

Renoirs, Monets, Van Goghs, and Cezannes have all sold for over $50 million, but none have fetched as much as the Picasso or even Warhol's "Eight Elvises".

Perhaps it is because they were sold in years past (a Renoir in 1990, a Monet in the mid-90s, accounting for raising prices or inflation or whatever) or perhaps it is because they are all in museums. But it's interesting that a Pollock and a de Kooning and a Picasso can fetch such prices at auction when the artists are relatively recent. 

Either way, it's fascinating that in this economy pieces of art (or pieces of anything) can fetch such high dollar amounts.

Now, if you'd like to own a piece of the Brody's estate, their Holmby Hills, California house is currently listed for just under $25 million. A bargain price considering what was in it!

Mother's Day Gift Ideas

 

There is a common occurrence that happens in my stores just days after any given holiday. When sweet sales associate asks lovely customer if she would like a gift card attached to 'said' present, it is at this precise moment that lovely customer usually hesitates, furrows her wrinkle free brow, smiles, and shrugs,  "Sure, why not."

The gift card is signed, and the pen is placed firmly on the counter in a controlled like action. To be completely honest with you, once or twice (maybe many) the pen might have landed a little hard on the counter after lovely customer signed 'said' gift card. 

To, Me

Love, You

- - - -

For those of you who don't speak irritated mother, let me translate this for you:

To, Me (Lovely Mother)

Love, You (misguided husband and thoughtless children)

  - - - - -

Wow! How can you forget about your mom on Mother's Day when she's done so many incredibly thoughtful things for you your whole entire life?!

Let's face it, Mother's are the kevlar thread that binds families together.

 - - - -

Mothers are the hostess-with-the-mostess who plan, organize, grocery shop, cook, and then clean up after - Thanksgiving, Christmas, Easter, birthdays, . . . . and all other occasions that you (children and husband) deem important family events.

Mothers keep the house clean and tidy with yummie food in the fridge, so you (children and husband) can invite your friends over at all hours to hang out.

Mothers take care - feed, clean, change litter boxes, walk, and love all animals you beg to have until you grow tired of them and need another (to include but not limited to dog, cat, bunny, goldfish, iguana, hamster, hurt baby bird that terrible cat dropped by back door . . . )

Mothers make sure your favorite jeans are always clean and your team jersey (in the correct home / visitor team color) is washed and by the back door next to the cleats you always forget to grab on your way out the door to school.

Mothers always sit by themselves in really big, dark, freezing movie theaters watching stupid 'R' rated scary movies with the name Freddie, or Chucky, or Nightmare in the title, so you (teenager) won't be embarrassed to be seen with your mother in a public place while you sit and watch horrible movie with your pack of little friends.

Mothers are always there to pick you up from party when you don't want to be there anymore (mean girls or stupid boys).

Mothers always pick up the phone on the first ring when their children call.

Mothers always open the door with a smile even if boy on opposite side of door has longer hair than mother and drives too-cool-for-school looking car. (Remember, mothers were young once too.)

Mothers always manage to keep silent, yet supportive, when boy who desperately needs haircut breaks daughter's heart, again.

Mothers always feign calmness when young man with actual degree and proper job is interested in broken-hearted daughter. (At this point, mothers always pray a lot too.)

Mothers (usually) wait until young man proposes to start planning her, I mean daughter's wedding.

Mother's always wait to cry in bathroom stall at daughter's fancy wedding reception so as not to embarrass daughter on her (their) big day.

Mothers always pray for lots of grandchildren.

Mothers just want their children to be happy, to have everything in life they didn't, and to protect them from any pain or suffering that might come their way.

Well, don't you think she (Lovely Mother) deserves a day. After all, there are 364 days left out of the year for you to spend however you like, doing whatever it is that you do that keeps you so-o busy that you can't pick up the phone (on the first ring) when your Lovely Mother calls.

 - - - -

Here are some great ideas (things your mom already loves) for you to surprise your mom with on her very special day - Mother's Day:

 

Ranuculus

Flowers are always a good choice on Mother's Day

 

Vrai Bath Products

When in doubt, Scents always make Sense, ha ha 

 

Claridge + King Nightwear

   

Boyfriend shirts, great for sleeping, by the pool over a bikini, or over leggings!

Havaianas

Fashion "Slims" in assorted colors and styles $22

 

Safia Day Jewelry

  

 

Gianna Rose Atelier Soaps

 

Heart and Gardenia scented soaps $6-8
  

European Picture Frames

 

 Frames: $24-52. Pictures inside: priceless

Elizabeth W. Linen Heart Sachets

Elizabeth W. lavender heart sachets in pink or white linen $21

 

Not-Exactly-Real Roses

    

Not-Exactly-Real rose bushes in terracotta pots $24

P. Jamas Gown & Robe

"Eliza" gown and matching robe, $65 and $100.

And, if I hear one more husband stupidly state, "She's not my mother." Then, I have another (very expensive, wink wink) list for you for after Mother's Day, and I promise, that'll cost him.

 

Note to Lovely Mothers - please feel free to forward this post on to any misguided husband (she's not my mother) or hard to reach children (who pretend not to hear IPhones ring, as if?) for inspiration and guidance, wink, wink.

Indulge Decor Blog Giveaway!

We would love to laugh with you - Please email us at indulge@indulgedecor.com with your all time worst Mother's Day story. The grand winner (loser) will receive as our gift a Cold Piece Pottery Tuberose Large Bowl Candle. I'm sorry to announce ahead of time that there can only be one winner (loser) so please elaborate and give it your best shot. Winning story will be posted anonymously for all to enjoy, hee hee. What's that phrase that everyone says to you when something really goes amuck - Misery Loves Company.

How Good of a Do-Gooder Are You?

C:

Last night I watched the movie The Blind Side starring that adorable Sandra Bullock (shame on Jesse James). Typically, this is not the type of movie (true story, therefor potentially sappy) that I would necessarily rent, but somehow it ended up in my Net Flix cue and hence, my mailbox.

Well, let me tell you - Wow. Wow, is all I can say. No sooner did I finish the movie than I hit 'play' again and watched the entire movie all over again. My sense of wow is not necessarily from Sandra's Oscar winning performance although she was fire-ry, charming, and completely believable as the mother Leigh Anne Tuohy, and very deserving of shiny gold statue, but my true sense of wow came from the underlying Do-Gooder theme of the movie.

For me, the movie was not about the rise of an NFL football player, but about a person (Leigh Anne Tuohy) who stopped and took notice of another person (Michael Oher) in need. - "Pull the car over."

A person who actually helped a person in need. - "Michael, do you have any where to stay tonight?"

A person who committed herself fully to helping that person in need. - "Michael would you like to be a part of this family?"

Hence, a person who changed somebody's life forever. - "Momma, will you come and get me?"

In the movie, Leigh Anne Tuohy's $18-salad-eating-friends, praised Leigh Anne for her Do-Gooder'ness,  "You're changing that boy's life."

And, Leigh Anne Tuohy's simple response was, "No. He's changing mine."

- - - - -

Well, how many times in your life have you been able to say - I made a difference in somebody else's life (and, I don't mean the guy who works on commission in the shoe department at Neimans.)

- - - - -

Every family has a story and I have a really big family so I have a lot of really big stories. Here is the story of my great-grandfather Dr. Charles Nathaniel Davis (1861-1939) as my almost 80 year old father (aka Pop Davis) remembered it and repeated it to me once again last night at my request:

Young Charles Nathaniel was one of many, many children (think large Catholic family) - too many children for parents to ever think about sending to college. Well, young Charles caught the attention of a successful gentleman. The gentleman took a keen interest in the clever, bright young Charles and told him that it was important for him to stay in school and make good grades. The gentleman also told young Charles to keep in touch and to report his progress in school each semester to him. "If you succeed in school I will help you to succeed in life," the gentleman repeated to young Charles year after year. The gentleman kept his promise and sent young Charles to college, medical school, and then paid to set him up in practice. Young Charles went on to be an internationally recognized doctor inventing such products as Calamine Lotion.

Ahh, the payout you immediately think. Well, no again. Quite the opposite - the benevolent gentleman went on to leave his vast fortune to my great-grandfather so Dr. Davis could focus on research and not income billings.

The great, benevolent gentleman did not profit monetarily in any way from his mentorship of my great-grandfather. Everything this man did, he did selflessly. He saw the potential in a clever, bright young boy and he made it possible for that man to succeed in life. 

- - - - -

Well, you might say - I give to charity. I'm charitable.

Why, just last month, I went to a luncheon for little Timmy's Montessori School to help raise money to buy more Mac computers.

Or, I sat at so-and-so's table at the such-and-such Gala. I bid on lots of things in the silent auction, but, alas, I didn't win anything (give any money).

In fact, I gave an extra 5 dollars at the grocery store last week when the cashier checked me out for some cause to help-feed-somebody, somewhere. Or, maybe that was at Petco, and it was dogs not people. Honestly, I give so much it's just hard to keep track of it all.

I always over tip my manicurist.

 - - - - -

My personal thoughts regarding charity do not include buying a pretty dress, getting your hair done (over tipping the shampoo girl), wearing all your best jewels, and going to a party in a ballroom and asking upon arrival - "Where's the bar? and Who's the band?"

Really, is that the best you can do?!

- - - - -

When my grandmother died, my family was overwhelmed with all the notes of condolences we received in the mail by total strangers. These 'so called strangers' were people my grandmother had either read about or heard about who were in need somehow. My grandmother would contact them personally and help them through their struggle. Never once did my Grandmother remark on 'said' charitable act over her morning coffee or evening dessert(s). All gestures of kindness remained between her and person in need. Our family never knew of all these acts of kindness until she had passed away and the letters came rolling in.

I guess my point to this blog is - It's very nice to write a check. It is very nice to chair an event. It is very nice to be on a committee to raise money. But, how often in your life do you really give yourself the opportunity to change someone's life? To help someone face to face? To give without gain?

- - - - -

The other day I pulled over to give a fella on the side of the road a few bucks. The fine Christian passenger seated next to me scoffed, "Don't do that. They tell you not to give those people money."

I couldn't believe what had just been parroted to me, "Really?" I remarked, stunned. "You don't think the person missing a limb standing on the side of the road could use a few bucks?" Argument to follow.

Someday. Somehow. Someone will need your help, and you will know it when it happens. Please, please remember this movie The Blind Side and don't turn a blind eye no matter what the salad-eater sitting next to you says. And, remember these two things about charity-  it's not for you, it's for them. And, you can never do too much.

Now, in a Charles Dickens like ghosts of Do-Gooder future, picture your lovely grandchildren (hopefully, they all have jobs) writing your epitaph upon your death (once they've gotten over the obstacle of verifying your true age, hee hee).Wouldn't it be pretty great if lovely grandchildren could remember you (charming dowager) for your unfaltering kindness and generosity toward others.

Suddenly, your favorite grandson the one who kept his hair cut above his shoulders and always had a summer job, speaks up, "She never turned a blind side or a blind eye to someone in need. We should all aspire to be a lot more like her."

The gift of awareness, the act of helping, and the commitment to change somebody's life, now, wow - that's a legacy to pass on to your children and great-grandchildren.

And, p.s. grandchildren are not charitable contributions. The best thing a gracious wealthy dowager can do is make lovely grandchildren get a job, and yes, I said it - work  for a living.

- - - - -

And, if you can't possibly think of anyone in need, here are a few suggestions:

The Children's Assessment Center

Child Advocates

 Covenant House

Casa De Esperanza

Sole Man

Indulge

Christian Louboutin is to shoes as Madonna is to pop music. The famous French Sole Man's name has become synonymous with women's footwear, arguably even more than his predecessors Manolo Blahnik and Jimmy Choo.

 
  

 

His signature red sole has become almost iconic - seen on red carpets, ladies luncheons, carpool lines, and sticky club floors alike. The Neiman Marcus in Houston has more styles of Louboutins out than any other brand. In fact, Jennifer Lopez staged her after-twins comeback with a song dedicated to the shoes called "Louboutins." 

If you're a woman and you don't own a pair of Louboutins, you've probably tried on a pair/lusted after them/are currently saving up for some right now.

 

Next month's issue of Vanity Fair (May 2010) features an article, written by Vanessa Grigoriadis, about the "Godfather of Sole" himself.

 

 

The 46-year old shoe god (pictured above in his custom atelier) heads an empire which, by the end of this year, will include 32 boutiques around the world, up from just 19 in 2009. Over 340,000 pairs of Louboutins were sold last year - keep in mind these shoes start at $495 and go up into the thousands (five figures for custom pairs). Mr. Louboutin laughs when eager customers approach him at events and shows and proclaim "I am your biggest customer - I have 15 pairs of your shoes!" He says a "big customer" is somebody who owns at least 500 pairs of his shoes. That sounds like a lot.

But he declares that "about 3,000 women have 500 pairs. But those aren't the biggest customers. Those costumers have about 6,000 pairs." These costumers include a Moroccan princess, the widow of French mogul Jean-Luc Lagardere, and a Lebanese billionaire.

 

Danielle Steel  

 

His biggest costumer? Famed romance novel author (and apparently the new Imelda Marcos) Danielle Steel. She owns over 6,000 pairs, "if not more." Another one of his most loyal customers is Toni Morrison - will someone explain to me what authors, people who are largely out of the limelight as they are writing their many novels, needs so many pairs of very expensive shoes? Another is Sofia Coppola - a director. Again, behind the scenes.

So what gives? All they ever talk about on the news and in the media is the recession and the economic downturn; open this month's Vogue magazine and instead of full-page couture ad campaigns you'll find White House/Black Market, Express, and Banana Republic ads; walk around the Galleria and everything is on sale and marked down and red-tagged. So how is it that a company which has made its name in high-end expensive footwear is seeing so much growth and such high sales volume? How is it that other high-ticket items like cars and jewelry sales are so down but extravagant Christian Louboutin shoes - articles you wear on your feet, which touch the yucky ground, which you walk in - are up? 

 

Celebrities in one of Christian Louboutin's bestsellers - a platform pump.

 

Although, not everyone who is buying Louboutins can afford them - one woman interviewed at a Louboutin shoe-signing event in Orange County told Grigoriadis "You know, I've run away from repo men in his shoes. My mom has even declared bankruptcy to buy me his shoes." To which her mother interjected "It's no biggie. Bankruptcy just sits on your credit report for a few years." A brazen attitude in an economic recession, don't you think?

 What's even more fascinating about Louboutin's immense success is that his company, unlike most luxury designer brands, doesn't advertise or market their product. He says he doesn't believe in it. What's more, the company remains independent and owner-operated, another very rare thing in the fashion industry (I imagine he's had many offers for buyouts, hello LVMH). And, while most designers (even the big-name designers) cultivate stylists and celebrities by gifting them with their clothes, shoes, and accessories, Christian Louboutin does not "push" his shoes on celebrities or onto red carpets. He says that while he sometimes gives celebrities a discount at his stores, he never gives shoes away. He doesn't have to!

 

More celebs in his shoes

 Again, we're talking about shoes here. Not jewelry, which you can wear for the rest of your life and pass on to your heirs and their heirs and so forth. Not handbags, which you can use and stick in the top of your closet to be brought back out every few seasons. Shoes - things you put on your feet. Feet which can sweat and smell, feet which walk on the icky ground of city streets, through rain or shine. After I wear a pair of heels just a handful of times I can already see that the sole is worn, the heel is becoming exposed, and that the leather is scuffed.

 

 

 

If I spend $6000 (that's 3 zeros) on a pair of shoes (the price tag of the Marie Antoinette shoe, pictured above, of which only 36 pairs in each color were produced), I wouldn't have the heart to wear them out of the house. I'd put them on a pedestal or in a case and call them art!

I always remember that infamous episode of Sex and the City, in which Carrie, unable to afford to buy her apartment, figured out that she had spent over $40,000 on a hundred pairs of Manolos and Choos. "I will literally be the old woman who lives in her shoes," she laments.

 

 

 100 pairs of shoes for $40,000 - that's $400 a pair. Now, imagine a Louboutin price tag.

 

 

This pair retails for $1095. A hundred pairs of Louboutins like these would be over $100,000. If you have 1,000 pairs of Louboutins like these you've spent $1 million. If you're one of Christian's better customers and you own 3,000 pairs, you've spent $3 million. Now, if you're Danielle Steel and you own 6,000 pairs, you've spent $6 million on shoes!

Recession? What recession?

 

Does Anyone Like Their Haircut?

C:

I get that my hair doesn't look great. I get that my blow dryer broke 3 months ago and I still haven't bothered to go buy a new one. And, I also get that my New Year's Resolution of not leaving my house with wet hair has gone by the wayside too (again, this year, grrr) And, don't even ask me about that stupid Chi.

So you might say as a friend, "I didn't think you really cared about your hair?"

Well, I do. Sorta.

My feeling of indifference toward my hair culminated last November when my hairdresser (Ms. Scissor Hands) took a deep breathe in and exclaimed, "Have you seen X's hair yet?"

"No." I replied wondering why we weren't still focused on me.

"It's beautiful. Possibly the best work I've ever done." Another deep breathe in. "She cried." And then Ms. Scissor Hands let her deep breathe out with a complete sigh of satisfaction. (Think - "When Harry Met Sally")

"She cried?" Now she had my attention. "Why did she cry?" I asked with a complete blank look on my face.

"Because she loved her hair so much (Duh!)."

It's 8 a.m. on a Saturday morning and I'm not feeling the love. I'm not loving my life - the fact that the only time I can even squeeze a hair appointment in is when everyone with a normal life is still sound asleep. I'm not loving my hair - I've had the exact same haircut (with or without bangs) for basically the last twenty years. I just don't know what else to do with my hair, and now I've run out of time.

I left the appointment by 10:30 (only a little late for work) with wet hair in a ponytail and thought next time maybe I'll think of something different.

 - - - - -

5 Months and 7 Days Later

Hair abominable. Roots - 3 inches. Color - ashen blonde / gray. Style - untraceable.

As Ms. Scissor Hands showed me to her swivel chair, she joked, "You don't tell people you go to me, right?"

Still not funny, but I can't blame her.

"What are we doing today?" She asked.

"Highlights, of course. And a trim." I replied.

"Well, this is what I'm doing for everyone. This is The New Look." She said, as she whipped out a tattered picture torn out of a magazine of  . . . .

Madonna ??? !!! ???

I'm thinking she needs to drop the scissors and back away. The New Look? Everyone? Really, Madonna. I'm not Madonna. I'm anyone but Madonna. And besides, Madonna doesn't even look like Madonna in that D&G ad.

And since I didn't just fall off the hay cart yesterday, doesn't Madonna's hair in the new  D&G ads look a lot like that darling Rene Russo's hair in that sexy "Thomas Crown Affair Movie"?

 

Now, if  Ms. Scissor Hands had shown me the above 'said' picture of Rene in shimmery dress, dancing late night with suave Pierce Brosnan, then . . . then we might have collaborated, then we might have had 'a look.'

How can you show a pretty straight-laced gal like myself a picture of Madonna with her boobies hanging out all over the page and say, "I was thinking of this for you." (and everyone else between the ages of 45 -55.)

Huh?

I left there with the same damn haircut I always get. My regular hair - sans 2 inches, triple processed back to it's natural shade of blonde (highlights, low lights, and a rinse that she says is supposed to 'brighten' my hair color, but I can translate - cover the gray.)

A few days later, a friend came by the store to say hi. I just happened to notice (immediately) that she too had just had her hair colored and cut. She also goes to Ms. Scissor Hands. Uh huh, . . . 'The Madonna.'

So, I guess there is no real moral or purpose to this blog other than don't let your hairdresser make you look like everyone else (especially aging rockstar that doesn't even look like herself in ad)

And,

Sometimes a couple of inches is enough of a hairstyle (life) change.

Jennifer Aniston 2000 . . .Jennifer Aniston 2010 (pics borrowed from US Magazine)

And, if you were wondering, what my dream hair looks like . . .

So, as a friend you might say . . . Keep dreaming :)

Amphibious-Political-Extramarital Intrigue

Indulge

Boy do we Americans love a good sex scandal. Recent tabloid covers featuring the sordid tales of Tiger Woods, Jesse James, and David Letterman have outsold other issues (like the ones with boring 'ole Brangelina on the cover) bar none. As sick as it is, we love reading about how poor Elin Woods and America's sweetheart Sandra Bullock have had their hearts broken by, let's face it, pretty dumb guys who we increasingly discover have had the worst judgment (a tattooed white supremacist? You can't make this stuff up! EESH.)

Why is then that Americans haven't gotten wind of a potential scandal across the pond? And if there's anything more revolting and shocking and newsworthy to Americans than a celebrity sex scandal its one involving a politician - so why is it that none of the American media outlets have covered the rumors of mutual (yes, mutual - finally some girl power) infidelity involving a certain French-speaking politician and his Italian-born ex-model and ex-rockstar lover of a wife? 

 

 

Europe is abuzz with the news that the president-in-question has been carrying on an extramarital affair with one of his married cabinet members, Chantal Juoanno. His wife, meanwhile, has reportedly been seeing French singer Benjamin Biolay.

 

(Chantall Juoanno and Benjamin Biolay)

 

 Interestingly enough, French newspapers have mostly shied away from reporting the rumors; in France, privacy and libel laws are much stricter than in the U.S. and most publications don't want to face the legal troubles or fines for printing such a story (in fact, the Sunday newspaper Le Journal de Dimanche published the story on their website but quickly retracted it in what many people thought was a pre-emptive dodge of presidential wrath). 

But of course, the blogs are immune to such laws and practices - Woohoo! That includes us!

When asked about rumors of the affairs, wifey said:
"He would never have affairs. Have you ever seen a picture of him having an affair? Ah, so."

 

 

Don't forget, this is the woman who, when pressed about her affairs with married men when she was in her 20s and 30s said something along the lines of "I wasn't committing adultery, they were."

 As for Mr. President, he did not mince his words when asked about the rumors by a British newspaper. "You must know very little about what the president of the Republic actually has to do all day long. I certainly don't have time to deal with these ridiculous rumors, not even half a fraction of a second. I don't even know why you use your speaking time to put such an idiotic question."

When a  British reporter continued to press him to at least do so much as deny the affair, he said "I love Britain. Don't make me bite back those words."

 

Now I remember, because I've always found this particular couple so fascinating, that they both have long-standing reputations involving some romantic intrigue and even philandering. The two married after a whirlwind 3-month courtship very soon after the president's divorce from his second wife (whom it should be noted he met while married to his first). She has romanced Mick Jagger, Eric Clapton, and Donald Trump, among others. She even left one man she dated for his son, who was married at the time. She once famously declared that she is easily "bored by monogamy."

 

 

(Carla with Eric Clapton and said son of former lover, also the father of her child)

Why is it that, while certainly newsworthy, the French don't seem to find this very revolting/shocking/disturbing/grounds for impeachment. Can you imagine if an American president was up to similar antics (we all remember Monicagate) and how sensational it would all be?  Not to mention, the American media has utterly ignored or failed to notice these headlines. If it were happening over here, don't you think the European news outlets would be all over it?

On the other hand, in the past Europeans have handled scandals like this so differently. Their mentalities about love and romance are just so much more liberal. Don't you remember Prince Charles basically going on dates with Camilla while still married to Diana? And what about Prince Albert of Monaco's many illegitimate children? Sure, it may be good tabloid fodder, but Europeans certainly don't believe it makes them any more or less politically-able.

(Prince Albert's former mistress, Air France stewardess Nicole Valeri Coste, and son Eric Alexandre)

 

On the other hand, there are certainly American celebrities and politicians that we've seemingly forgiven for their acts of infidelity. What about Marion Barry, David Letterman, and even Tiger Woods?

   

 

Marion Barry was found in a hotel room with hookers and cocaine while he was Mayor of D.C., only to be elected to the city council and eventually re-elected as mayor a few short years later. David Letterman maintained sleazy relationships with what sounds like might have been many of his employees, but came out as a victim as a result of an even more sleazy extortion attempt by one woman's boyfriend. And as for Tiger? His comeback to golf last week brought in the highest television ratings for golf in years. I have a feeling the endorsements he lost will come back to find him, too.

So sure, there is life after a sex scandal. And money. But what say you, Marion, Dave, and Tiger, for your Wikipedia page, your eternal home on the internet? There, for future generations and their offspring, you will always be a philandering adulterer.

 

 

 

Country Club Cunundrum

Indulge

Today, yoga and country clubs go together like peas and carrots - in fact, you'd be hard-pressed to find a country club that doesn't offer a yoga class or two.

In the 1920s, a particular country club in Nyack, New York was one of the only places you could find yoga classes. Back then, yoga was condemned as a heathen, sensual, sinful practice. But at the Clarkstown Country Club in Nyack, the nation's first ashram, yoga was incorporated in a varied program of health and recovery. And sex. The country club's creator, Pierre Arnold Bernard, the first homegrown American yogi and a spiritual mentor, preached that "love is the animating force in the world," and that sex constituted "the basis of all that is sacred, holy, and beautiful." A controversial figure at the time for sure, Bernard's beliefs and the foundation for his club in Nyack enraged most Americans who knew about it at the time.

 

The Clarkstown Country Club

 

Often called the Love Cult Colony by writers at the time, the Clarkstown Country Club was a private retreat where wealthy members of society came together to practice yoga, mingle, and mate. His frank acceptance of sex as a natural human function, coupled with his recognition of the knowledge of Eastern cultures and his holistic approach to health not only predated modern attitudes for more than five decades but also raised a lot of eyebrows.

 

Pierre Arnold Bernard

 

But the club didn't attract just anybody; in particular, Clarkstown Country Club attracted the wealthy and the well-known. In fact, Bernard bought the 78-acre plot of land that would house the club in 1920 with the help of Anne Vanderbilt, who, along with her two daughters Barbara and Margaret, were deeply enthralled with Bernard. In fact, Margaret was openly in love with Bernard and offered to leave her fortune to him in her will (he didn't take her up on it).

 

Anne Vanderbilt

 
 

The Vanderbilt heiresses brought several of their society friends to the club. Among them were the Goodriches (tire magnates), the Harknesses (Standard Oil Company), and the Harrimans (railroads) and those who attended to the wealthy like stockbrokers, lawyers, and celebrity decorators. The mix of society, sex, and yoga started a buzz that encouraged new members to travel from as far away as Europe and Asia to stay at the club.

Inside its walls, the club was certainly an oasis of sexual freedom. Yoga teachers seduced their students. Guests engaged in affairs and orgies. A few marriages came undone when exposed to the club's liberal, open mood about sex. Bernard went on to become the founder of the first tantric society in the States, called the Tantric Order of America, and its publishing house, the Tantric Press.

 

 

Other than the general contemptuous attitude towards Bernard and his club that many naysayers felt, the press had a field day with Bernard and his unusual practices. In 1910, he was accused of kidnapping two young girls for sexual indecencies. Ultimately, the charges were dropped, perhaps due to the very wealthy and powerful connections Bernard had within the political world of New York; but claims of strange occult sex practices followed him for years afterwards. It was rumored that he brought prostitutes from the city down the Hudson River through storm drains at the club in order to garner participants in some of the club's more extreme rituals. What's more, it was rumored some of these women were never seen or heard from again.

 

 

 

Ironically, after Bernard's death in 1955, the land was sold to the Nyack Missionary Training Institute, which later became Nyack College, affiliated with the Christian and Missionary Alliance.

 

For some strange reason, I'm having fun imagining tantric sex classes and nude yoga classes going on behind the walls of the country club down the street. Aren't you?

 

 

* To read more on "Sex, Lies, and Yoga" check out the article of the same name in the February 2010 issue of Allure Magazine.

Straw Bag Chic

Indulge

Sometimes the many fashion magazines subscriptions we get in the mail every month provide us with ideas for new things to carry in the store. Hats, Missoni towels and beach bags, Safia Day jewelry, Petit Bateau t-shirts, scarves - we see it in the pages of Vogue, Harper's Bazaar and Elle and we think maybe we'd like to have it at Indulge. I always joke that Cynthia would be able to dress and accessorize herself if she came to work in nothing but a robe!

Last week, C. brought in the latest issue of Harper's Bazaar (I of course had already read it) and wanted the girls to research the great-looking woven bags in one of the photo spreads...

 

 

 

 

 

C. loved the bags featured in this Moroccan spread. As she turned the glossy pages of Bazaar she strained her eyes to read the details listed in the fine print in the corners of the pictures. On most of the pages she saw the line "Bangles, Belmacz. Bag". Of course, had she read the next line she would have seen the words "Michael Kors", "Dolce & Gabbana", and "Bottega Veneta" immediately following the word "Bag". Here she was thinking this great Belmacz guy was making all these cute straw bags, which couldn't have been more than a couple hundred dollars, right? Don't you just hate that pesky fine print?

Okay, so we can't get Michael Kors and Dolce & Gabbana and Bottega Veneta at Indulge. But we can post the cutest straw and woven bags of the season on our blog.

 

This gorgeous Bottega Veneta woven calf-skin bag was featured in the Bazaar spread (the last page on the right, above). Okay, so it's not straw. But it is woven and Spring-y and delicious.

At the bargain price of $7800, all you need to do is sell a kidney on the black market to get one. And it would be so worth it.

 

After that sticker shock, you might be more inclined to look at a designer's mid-tier line - how about a beautiful MICHAEL by Michael Kors straw carry-all?

  

 These retail for $248 and $328 - pocket change compared to the Bottega.

There's also this adorable D&G by Dolce & Gabbana.

At $449, you could wear it to a ladies' lunch and to the beach (if you were somewhere chic like Majorca or St. Tropez).

 

Gucci makes this chic straw tote and this too-cute white leather bamboo-handled bag for the spring and summer.

    

The perfect carry-all straw tote for day ($990) and the cutest white-leather-with-grommets bag for night ($2350).

 

I also love this not-straw nautical rope-handled bag by Louis Vuitton.

 

Don't we all need a purse that we can take poolside? This $1225 number would be just as cute with real clothes, too.

 

Yves Saint Laurent makes this patent leather-handled black raffia Roady bag for $1045. 

Just don't wear it with white jeans - the black-dyed raffia tends to wear off on light colored fabrics.

 

I especially love this Balenciaga straw bag. Love how they used their signature "motorcycle bag" leather and metal finishes on the color-blocked straw.

It also comes in a tres French sailor navy stripe version. At $945, it's the Balenciaga look for a fraction of the leather Balenciaga bag price.

 

Prada makes this straw and leather shopper. The grassy raffia at the top is too cute for a garden party.

It retails for $1295 and comes with a great detachable shoulder strap.

 

And now, the ultimate favorite. The straw bag of all straw bags. The Jimmy Choo snakeskin and raffia hobo.

 

What's not to love?! It's leopard print raffia, elaphe snakeskin trim, gold hardware, purple trimmed, and wonderful. It retails for  $975 - and, I know I must be drinking the blogger kool-aid because that seems perfectly appropriately priced to me (come on, that Bottega set a high bar!). And, insider blog-reader tip: I saw it just this week at our very own Neiman Marcus. 

On The Balcony? or In The Parade?

C:

Someone once asked me  - Which way do you live your life, 'On The Balcony?' or 'In The Parade?' 

My response, "Huh?"

But ever since then, I always think back on that question - Which way do you live your life,  'On The Balcony?' or 'In The Parade?' 

When I was younger, I was so 'In The Parade.' I never missed a party. Always said yes to invitations. Was always the last to leave when the bar finally closed (2a.m.). And, who didn't love a someone's-gonna-end-up-in-the-pool roaring after party (I ruined a really nice Tank Francaise watch that way, grrr.) I loved the Renaissance Festival (turkey on a stick), Westheimer Arts Festival (yum, funnel cake), The Rodeo Fairgrounds (only a teenager could appreciate the possibility of being more educated than the ferris wheel operator, eeck scary.) And, actually went to Mardi Gras in New Orleans and Galveston several times, both cities. Loved Fiesta in San Antonio, and according to at least two reliable sources and a jolt to my 'selective memory,' I even enjoyed loud, crowded concerts and frequented them often. And, as a testament to my 'In The Parade' youthfulness, my favorite bar was a purple lesbian biker bar named Lolas located in lower Montrose. In other words, I was easily entertained and was usually found twirling a baton (cocktail) toward the front of the parade (party).

When you are young, all you want to do is go, go, go. The other day, my dear friend C. was telling me that her darling, yet mean, teenager was at home sick in bed with a fever and couldn't even go to school that day.

Cue the phone. "Mom, can I go to so-and-so's party tonight?" sick teenager asks confidently.

"What?!" incredulous mother thinks but says out loud without restraint. "No. No, you can not got to a party when you stayed home from school because you had a fever. Do we really have to have this conversation? I'm going to hang up now," signaling that discussion had ended and that there would be no plans for fun teenage party in store for ailing teenager that night.

Mother turned to me and asked, "Did we go to parties when we had fevers because I don't remember doing that, do you?" 

Now, I'm sure that not much has changed since C. and I were teenagers (some 30 shortish/long years ago). What I do think has changed is us - C. and I. Somewhere down the road C. and I crossed over to the other side, and by other side, I mean - we got older and became what mean teenagers call middle age, ugh.

In your teens, I think it is probably a good backdrop to have overbearing, controlling, stupid, boring parents who are intent on ruining your social well being by not allowing you to go to endless parties at 16 & 17 years of age, with or without a fever. Most teenagers are like billy-goats, they will go anywhere, with anyone, do anything, and they don't even know why.

No really, I mean it - ask a teenager who is going to the party. Response - Why? Ask a teenager if parents will be at party. Response - Why? Ask teenager what the 'said teenager' might like to wear to party. Response - Why? Ask teenager what time they will be home. Response - Later, why?

In college, all you really want to know is - Where the next party is? and Who is going to be there (cute boys)?  It would never occur to you to think about sleep or how little you got the night(s) before. Sleep was a luxury not a necessity, and you learned quickly that a little (disco nap) went a long way (2 a.m. again?) No one ever noticed how tired you must have been at 20 years of age because you were young and beautiful, and when you are young, people always think that you look beautiful. It's hard to tell how tired a 20 year old may be when there are no wrinkles to exasperate from sleep deprivation.

In your twenties, I think that it is good that you are broke all the time and that you actually do run out of money on a weekly basis which makes you go home a little earlier from the bars so you can get up and make it to work on time, albeit hungover. We all remember that pesky co-worker who watches the clock like a grade school hall monitor ready to run and fink you out to the big guy if you are even a minute late, again.

In your thirties, you tend to have a 'significant other' to keep you in line and make sure you get home at a reasonable hour in an even more reasonable condition - sweetie, it's a school (work) night, perhaps you shouldn't order another drink. Spouses are always so correct. Besides, a screaming child early in the a.m. quickly cures a lot of late night revelry.

But, by your 40's, you simply want a good night's sleep. Let me make that an 'I' statement - 'I' just want a good night sleep. These days, I seem to value a good night's sleep more than a good time. Without even realizing it, I have taken myself out of 'The Parade,' and found a nice comfy armchair (rocker still to come) on 'The Balcony' to watch life from (and of course, blog about it, tee hee.)

This whole 'Balcony / Parade' thing really snuck up on me. When I was first asked the question - Which way do you live your life, - 'On The Balcony?' or 'In The Parade?' many, many years ago (again part of my 80's psycho-babble era), I assumed 'The Question' was a personality trait issue - outgoing versus shy, life of the party versus wallflower, extrovert versus introvert. Now, I'm not so sure. Now, I feel kinda confused about what I thought was a fairly straightforward question.

As far as I can surmise (another word for self analysis), I fall under the conflicted category of being a shy/outgoing person with sudden, exuberant,  and quite unexpected, life-of-the-party-outbursts who enjoys lounging on 'The Balcony' with her dogs and a good book. And, for those who read too much into award show acceptance speeches - yes, I owe it all to my charming husband, and yes, he is invited to sit on the porch next to me (and perhaps fetch me a glass of lemonade from time to time, with crunchy ice, wink, wink.)

Gone are the days that my weekend nights are filled before my weekday nights. And when my parents call in the evening (just after they've hung up with my 9 year nephew) to tell me the family news, I am the one who is usually already in bed with the lights out.

The days of go, go, go have ebbed into the verb rest, rest, rest. Invitations are accepted only if they can be spaced out several days apart with 'rest days' in between. And, if I feel as though I might have partaken in a little too much vino at dinner, I make sure that I eat all my meal to squelch a buzz / hangover. Gone forever are the days of 'a good buzz,' wine over water, revelry over relaxation.

At some point, I (shy/outgoing person with sudden, exuberant, and quite unexpected, life-of-the-party-outbursts) left 'The Parade,' climbed a very tall flight of stairs, and positioned myself on a nice, soft, comfy armchair (slipcovered in Belgian linen, for sure) on the more shaded, cooler side of 'The Balcony.' 

Thank goodness I twirled in many a 'Parade' in my younger days and quote 'got it out of my system' because I would hate to think what I would look like as a 'middle age' parade twirler.

 Pam A. twirling a glass of champagne at her wedding day 'Parade.'

(Don't you wish Andy W. was still alive to capture this iconic moment, sailor hat and all?)

Hugh (dressed in casual pjama attire) arrives to 'The Parade' with his own floats.

 

So, my re-hypothesized conclusion is: Whether you are 'In the Parade' or 'On the Balcony' is not just a personality trait, but also a time line trait. I think it is fair to say that 'one'  may enjoy one's youthfulness in 'The Parade' and laugh out loud at using port-a-potties, staying out until dawn, eating meat on a stick cooked in unknown places by unknown people wearing Renaissance wigs, and sharing a picnic table and a beer with a woman who has more hair on her arms than your date, but at some point in life (middle age) you just want to adjourn to 'The Balcony,' sit down, order a refreshing drink, and if need be - ask if there is a powder room nearby that you may use to wash your hands, and ahem. Hopefully, 'The Balcony' is far enough away from 'The Parade' that it is quiet too. At that quiet, peaceful moment, you're not exactly thinking about world peace, just peace in your world.

 

- - - - -

  

'In The Parade?' or 'On The Balcony/' as Illustrated Through A Typical Lifetime of Spring Breaks:

Dedicated to my dear friend C. who just had a very long week.

 

Little Kid - Riding the waves and building sand castle cities all day. Swimsuit, hair, and 3/4 of little body covered in sticky sunscreen 30+ and sand. 1 swimsuit.

Teenager - Covered in Baby Oil, sunbathing, flipping through mags, listening to I Pod, while texting. Looks up at you and huffs when asked if she would like a tuna fish sandwich for lunch. Sand barely touches feet. 3 tiny bikinis.

College Student - Cabo, or anyplace else that their greatest tax revenue is from Tequila. New tat looks really cute, so do the boys! 5 bikinis, if you can call little 4x4 crochet pieces tied together with dental floss a bathing garment.

Early 20's,  New Job - "What, I don't get a spring Break?!" Casual work attire. Tats covered.

Early 30's, 2.5 Kids all under the age of 8 - Too busy applying sunscreen and changing wet swimsuits of little ones to notice if vacation is relaxing. Bikini worn with gauzy tunic coverup. Forgot to change into a clean suit after lunch, ketchup stains showing.

Early 40's, - Hope husband can make it because mean teenagers off with other teenagers, somewhere? Time spent under an umbrella, out of the sun, reading a good book, and looking forward to a 3 mile walk at end of day when sun isn't so strong (hat, sunscreen, and over-sized sunglasses, readers on table next to book.) Sporting Tankini in dark, solid color.

Early 50's - Kids too old for Spring Break, husband never brings it up. Looking forward to a trip to Europe later in the season when it's (meaning Europe, not husband) not too busy. Can't remember where I stored swimsuit, hmm.

Early 60's - Kids want to know if they can borrow beach house to take their little ones. Your reply - of course, but unfortunately you will only be able to make it down a few nights, relief. You try to stay out of everyone's way, a chair on 'The Balcony' is just fine - you can see everything from there, wink. Did I forget my swimsuit, again, hmmm?!

Early 70's - Grandchildren now mean teenagers, you went for a few nights, and barely saw your grandchildren. You enjoyed the peace and quiet, the waves crashing against the surf, and thought this was the best place on earth for the next thirty minutes of uninterrupted silence, your balcony. Nobody even asks about missing swimsuit.

- - - - -

This past weekend was Daylight Savings Time which I love because now when I fall asleep watching T.V. it's 9:30 instead of 8:30, and when I wake up at 6:38 (barking dogs, ugh) it's now 7:38, relief. My body is totally in sync with this phase of Daylight Savings Time - Spring Forward - earlier to bed, and earlier to rise.

My dogs love Daylight Savings Time too because there is an extra hour to bark from their 'balcony' (right in front of my T.V., grrr) at all the neighborhood dogs 'parading' by their home.

 

 

Hoppy Easter!

Indulge

Of course most of us grew up liking Easter - the candy, the Easter egg hunts, the potential of catching a glimpse of that ever-so-elusive Easter Bunny. Did I mention the candy?

But have you ever wondered where our much-cherished Easter traditions come from? Or what the specific religious origins of Easter are?

 

 

You probably already know that Easter, though a Christian holiday, is celebrated in unique ways all around the world.
I personally spent one Easter a few years ago in Mexico. Okay, maybe it was really for Spring Break (don't click on that!), but still. In Mexico, Easter celebrations last a whole week ("Holy Week" or "Semana Santa") - instead of decorating Easter eggs or waiting for the Easter bunny, it is very common for many communities to put on elaborate enactments of a "Passion Play". In the "Passion Play" they reenact the Last Supper, the Betrayal, the Judgement, the Procession of the 12 Stations of the Cross, the Crucifixion and, finally, the Resurrection.

 

(Actors enacting a scene in city streets in Monterrey, Mexico)

 

I also spent a Spring Break, er, Easter, in Greece one year. There, every night of Holy Week the churches are packed. At midnight on Saturday night, church bells ring and church goers light candles to celebrate the Resurrection. A meal of Easter lamb soup, called "mageritsa" (no, no margaritas), is served afterward. On Easter Sunday, spit-roast lamb is the centerpiece of the dinner table. Walking around Easter morning, the lamb spits are turning on the sidewalks of homes and restaurants, slowly cooking and spreading the yummy aroma throughout towns big and small.

 

(The faithful, candles lit, at midnight on the Saturday before Easter last year, in the Plaka in Athens, Greece)

 

Okay, so we don't roast lamb meat on our city sidewalks or enact elaborate biblical scenes on Easter Sunday as they do in other countries. Of course, Easter in the United States also has its religious meaning and underpinnings, but in our "melting pot" of a country, we for the most part tend to focus on the candy, the hunting for Easter eggs, and the big giant bunny we all know and love (but have never actually caught in our backyard hiding the eggs, hmm). Kudos to the many of you who make it to Church on Easter Sunday (and those of you who celebrate Ash Wednesday, fast for Lent, and participate in the ceremonial Palm Sunday). For those of you who aren't Christian, or who don't always make it to Church for religious holidays, there's an Easter for you (us) too. I mean, have you seen the Easter candy aisle at Walgreen's lately? Yum.

 

 

 

Like many other holidays, Easter has been somewhat secularized and commercialized (lucky for me, a Cadbury Creme Egg freak). The dichotomous nature of Easter and its symbols is nothing new; since its conception as a holy celebration in the second century, Easter has always had a non-religious side to it. In fact, a lot of people don't know that Easter was originally a Pagan festival in which ancient Saxons, before converting to Christianity, celebrated the return of spring with a commemorative festival. It just so happened to coordinate with the Resurrection of Christ.

What I always found curious about Easter was where it fell on the calendar. If Christmas is on December 25th, every year, no matter what, to symbolize the birth of Christ, why is it that Easter never falls on the same day, when it is to symbolize the Resurrection of Christ? Easter is considered a moveable feast, meaning that it is not fixed in relation to the civil calendar. A council of Christian bishops under the Roman Emperer Constantine I established the date of Easter as the first Sunday after the full moon following the vernal equinox, or the first day of Spring. Christianity dictates that the equinox is on March 21st, regardless of the astronomically correct date (which can change it to the day before or after that). Thus, Easter falls on a Sunday between March 22 and April 25th. The fact that the date of Easter relies on the lunar calendar is also linked to the holiday's Pagan history.

The Easter bunny also originated with the Pagan festival; the goddess, Eastre, identified with the Pagan ritual of celebrating the return of spring, was worshipped through her earthly symbol, the rabbit.

 

 

We have our friends in Germany to thank for bringing the symbol of the Easter Bunny to the states (of course!). In fact, it was widely ignored by most Christians until after the Civil War - although, Easter itself was not widely celebrated in the U.S. until then either.

The Easter Egg, just as the Easter Bunny, predates the Christian holiday of Easter as well. The springtime exchange of eggs was a custom that was centuries-old by the time Christians celebrated Easter. The egg, a symbol of rebirth, was often wrapped in gold leaf and presented to others (an egg exchange).

Today, children hunt the eggs they've likely painted in the days before Easter (or if you're like my Dad's side of the family, you just buy the plastic hollow eggs and fill them with candy and even money, which is also fun). Who knows, really, where or when exactly the Easter Egg Hunt began. A lot like the Santa Claus custom of Christmas time, it's probably just developed with each generation of children.

 

 

When I was a child, we had several of our own Easter traditions. Of course, we painted and dyed Easter eggs on the Saturday before Easter, then set them out for the Easter Bunny to hide in the backyard. On Easter Sunday, we'd have a lavish breakfast spread of fresh fruit, french toast, and whatever else our little hearts desired. My favorite Easter tradition, still to this day, was reading The Country Bunny and the Little Gold Shoes with my mother.

 

 

If you haven't read it, you really must (you can click on the book cover above to purchase on amazon.com). We still sit down at Easter to read it together! I always used to wonder as a kid why my mother teared up so much while we read it - of course, as an adult I can tear up just thinking about it. 

 

 

* Don't forget to stop by and meet our new shop bunny, Macaroon. Also, if you become our fan on Facebook (click here to do so), receive 10% off Easter items at either Indulge Decor or Indulge Linens. The code word is "Macaroon".

 

 

 

The Forgotten Heiress

A:

 

 Americans are obsessed with heiresses.

We're fascinated with the Paris Hiltons and Casey Johnsons of the world, we all watched Grey Gardens on HBO, we couldn't get enough of the media sensation surrounding Brooke Astor's death (yes, she was an heir through marriage, but still). I even did a blog post about heiresses earlier this year.

Well, I've just read Bill Dedman's msnbc.com article about a woman who is, to me, the most fascinating heiress I've heard of yet.

Her name is Huguette Clark. Heard of her?

Go on, try googling her. You'll be lucky to find an article or two. That's because this "forgotten heiress" is one of the most mysterious, shrouded, and discreet of her kind.

Much appreciation to Bill Dedman for doing the research on Huguette (the rest of the internet is a deadzone for articles about this Forgotten Heiress) and finding the following amazing photos. If you'd like to read more about Huguette and her family over at msnbc.com, click here.

 

 

Huguette's father, senator and copper king William A. Clark (pictured above, with her at age 15), was the 2nd richest man in America in the early 1900s, second only to John D. Rockefeller. 

In 1907, her father built a Fifth Avenue mansion for his second wife Anna (Huguette's mother) and his new family (he had four grown children with his first wife, Mary) with 121 rooms, 4 art galleries, Turkish baths, and its own railroad line to bring in coal. It cost him 7 million dollars to build the house in 1907; for a little perspective, ten years later, it only cost 1/3 of that to build Yankee Stadium.  All that for a family of four!

You think that's interesting? You should hear about the properties she owns.

 

Named Bellosguardo for it's "beautiful views" of the Pacific Ocean, at 21,666 square feet on 23 acres, it's worth more than 100 million.

It's been empty since 1963.
 

 

In 1952, Huguette Clark bought this 12,766 square foot home on 52 wooded acres in New Canaan, Connecticut. It is currently on the market for the bargain price of $24 million (marked down from $34 million). The house has 7 bedrooms and 9 rooms for servants.

Maintained by several full-time staff, the grounds are just as groomed and well-kept as those on her property in Santa Barbara.

She has never spent a night there.

 
 

And this is her home in New York.

It is the largest apartment on Fifth Avenue with 42 rooms and 15,000 square feet, taking over all of the building's 8th floor and half of it's 12th. Overlooking Central Park at the corner of 72nd, it's valued at $100 million.

While her belongings are here, she doesn't appear to really live here either. The building's staff have seen her only a handful of times in the 30 years she's owned the place. Lately, they haven't seen her at all.

 

So where is she? Why have the mansions of one of the country's richest women been vacant for decades?

 

 Perhaps it was an inherent trait. Apparently, her mother, Anna (pictured above with William and her elder daughter Andree), was similarly rarely seen in public in her day. Mr. Clark reported that his wife "did not care for social distinction, nor the obligations that would entail upon [his] public life."

Or perhaps it was the untimely passing of her sister that kept her hidden. In 1919, a week before her 17th birthday, Andree died of meningitis which reportedly left a huge hole in her life.

 

 

Throughout the 1920s, society pages (yes, they had them back then) chronicled the debutante regularly. She attended Miss Spence's School for Girls, where she studied politics.   
 

In 1925, her father died of pneumonia (and old age; he was 86). He was entombed in the above mausoleum at Woodlawn Cemetary in the Bronx - his neighbors there include Woolworth, Macy, Pulitzer. When he died, his house was sold for less than half of what it cost to build, and was torn down to make way for apartments.

Huguette, 18 at the time, inherited a lump sum and was granted an allowance of up to $90,000 a year, equal to $1 million today.

In 1928, she became engaged to William Gower, to whom she was married for two years. Soon after, she was linked to an Irish nobleman.

Soon after that, however, she dropped her subscription to the opera and suddenly slipped from the society pages. 

When her mother died 1963, Huguette stopped visiting Bellosguardo. Paintings that depicted her sister, Andree, living well past 16 and into her middle age, stayed on the walls. A former caretaker's daughter recalls that Bellosguardo was always "immaculate, as if someone had just left for the weekend."

In 2003, she sold a Renoir for $23.5 million.

In 2007, the IRS placed a lien on her houses for $1 million in back taxes; it was paid quickly and quietly.

And that's really the last anyone has heard of Huguette Clark.

According to her great-half nephew (he's her closest living relative), that includes him. "Huguette has always led a sort of reclusive life," he says, "She wasn't just sitting in a room herself all her life. She had a small group of friends, confidants and assisstants, very small, probably fewer than five people. Her world was always very small."

Now 103, some speculate that she may be in a nursing home or hospital. Relatives say they're not sure.

Her attorney has said that, while her hearing and eyesight have diminished (after all, she'll be 104 this summer), she has a clear mind, and he receives instructions from her  by phone frequently. 

He would not, however, pass along a request for an interview. "She's a very private person. She doesn't care about publicity or reputation."

 

Where is she? And where has she been for the last several decades? What will become of her fortune?

Is she like a Doris Duke, with a creepy butler behind her pulling the strings? Is she a Brooke Astor, who's been neglected and abused by her relatives and staff? Is she a recluse, perhaps an agoraphobe, who chooses to remain shrouded from the world? Or is she simply on vacation in some exotic locale with a much younger man?

Obviously, Ms. Clark lives her life by this Thomas Fuller quote: "Fools' names, like fools' faces, are often seen in public places."

 

Either way, she must have some loyal staffers - to keep her many properties so immaculate when she hasn't even been to them in decades!? I gotta tell you, when most of the people I housesit for leave town, their maids go home early (sorry to break it to you). 

Why are the rich so damn fascinating? Too bad I don't know anybody who could get me a Spring Break pass to that Santa Barbara manse.

My Selective Memory

C:

I have what many would call 'Selective Memory'.  I can not say that I 'suffer' from this condition (SM) because obviously at some level it is self-diagnosed, self-induced, self-inflicted, and most of all self-monitored, by none other than moi.

When I was young, I was the type of exuberant young girl who wrote in a journal everyday (upon recollection - journal entries typically not very ladylike) about my time spent in college only to burn the stack of tattered journals on the last day of school in a will-full act of independence because I didn't want to live in the memory of 'the-glory-days.' (Also, I was moving home for a short time and my mom sure didn't need to read about all that nonsense with her delicate Catholic College upbringing, hee hee.)

At my 25th high school reunion, I marveled how my old (meaning time spent, not years of age) girlfriends recanted story after story of fun-filled days spanning the years of 1st through 12th grades and well into college. I remember sitting there stunned that they all (girlfriends)  seemed to have the mental capacity to remember all that stuff (nonsense). I remembered thinking that I have great fondness for all those years, but I sure don't remember all the details (lunch room table).

But never has my delicate 'Selective Memory' condition seemed so blatant as it has this week.

Last week, I called my mom to ask her if I could come by and go through her recipe drawer. I wanted to make a special recipe that my dear grandmother used to make. As I was carefully separating the recipes in categories - magazine clippings, my mom's hand writing, my grandmother's handwriting, and some other person's irritatingly straight neurotic cursive handwriting, I noticed that the 'said' compulsive, irritating person had the largest stack of recipes and all the good ones too. When I questioned my mother why she had so many recipes from this person and how could she let 'said' irritating person copy all of grandmother's best recipes - she laughed and smiled, "Why Cynthia, that is your handwriting. You copied those recipes down."

Really. I used to write like that? Wow, I had nice handwriting. What happened? Perhaps undetected early stages of OCD - neurotically straight cursive handwriting, hmmm?

Then, a friend of mine who lives in London stopped by the store to say hi, somehow (ha, I don't remember how) she started telling all The Girls (my girls who work at the store) about when she and I went to the Rolling Stones Concert fifteen or so years ago.

All I could think of was - Really, I went to The Stones Concert?? I love The Stones! I am really glad that I went! Cool.

I didn't have much to add to the story because I kinda didn't even remember going. Thank God my friend loves to tell a story and thank God I love to hear about what a good-time I was fifteen years ago, or so.

My next 'Selective Memory' encounter happened just three days later when yet another old friend came by the store - this one I hadn't seen in let's say twenty something years. This particular friend moved to San Francisco and I hadn't heard from her since. She was telling me how much I would love San Francisco because she will always remember me going to The Grateful Dead Concert (20 + years ago) and having such a good time that I went back the next night. She told me how weird she thought that was that I even went to The Grateful Dead Concert let alone went back again the next night. She told me how all her friends in San Francisco love The Dead and I would fit in there just great.

All I could think of was - Really, I went to The Grateful Dead Concert?? Twice ? I love The Grateful Dead! I am really glad that I went, twice! Cool.

Fleeting Reflective Moment - Apparently loved concerts. Who knew? Because I am one of those people who goes to the grocery store early in the morning because I hate the after school/work crowds. In other words - I hate crowded places, now.

Then, another friend (S) emailed me with an, "Ehemm.  Remind me again what you wore under your wedding dress? :) yeah yeah yeah.  extenuating circumstances."

*Because She (S) was and is a friend, She (S) did not rat me out publicly on the comment section of 'The Blog' but discreetly sent me an email to my personal account. The above mentioned is me ratting myself out 'cut-and-paste' style.

OMG!!! She was right, I had completely forgotten that!!! I got married 'Commando Style!' - Apologies to Heidi.

The Rolling Stones thing was of no consequence, I didn't give it a second thought. The Grateful Dead concert seemed like an odd coincidence, but 'The Commando Incident' - now, that one hit home. It is completely understandable to omit concerts from your over crowded memory bank, but how could I omit memories from my One-and-Only-Special- Wedding Day - even if it was 'said' very odd memory. I even have my wedding picture sitting beside my bed. I will never be able to look at it the same way again, wince. My wedding day decorum had been thoroughly compromised.

So, I spent the next few days self-analyzing my seemingly wanton neurological condition. One by one I ruled out the A.'s - amnesia, Alzheimer's, altered (slightly)-state-of-mind. And, came up with my own self-diagnosed condition: I willingly under my own volition (a.k.a. power-of-thought) choose to remember selectively those things that were or are:

• once in a lifetime events

• made me laugh

• made me cry

• would never be repeated

• out of the ordinary

• truly beautiful

• magical

• unique

• relevant

• intended

I guess I would call it a 'Bucket List' for my memory. 

And, I decided that I think my 'Memory Bucket List' will change with the years. Obviously, the things that I choose to keep or put in my current 46 year old 'Memory Bucket List' and cherish in my dreams and the faint moments before I go to sleep at night are hopefully not the same as the moments (concerts) I might have cherished 15, 20, or 25 years ago.

It all reminds me of the tragic scene from the movie 'The English Patient' when the very handsome Ralph Fiennes is lying in bed, completely wrapped in mummy bandages, fading in and out of a morphine induced consciousness, grasping on to the memories of his life and the moments and events that lead up to what is the beginning of the movie.

On a quiet Sunday morning, coffee in hand I can't help but think  - What are the memories that I cherish the most, at this time? And, does anyone really think about such things in moments of non-crisis? I wish now that I had read this blog (or had this thought) at 20, 30, 40's years of age. I would love to see each decades list and how my 'Memory Bucket List' changes and grows over time, hopefully.

Result - My 'Memory Bucket List' doth runneth over.

And, I'm happy to report that even with the new memory restored great-fun-at-the-concerts rehashing, my current 'Memory-Bucket-List' still does not have room for those really fun, great, out-of-hand, when I was stupid-young-college-student-and-just-after experiences. My current 'MBL' appears for all sense-and-purposes to be much quieter and relaxing, with not a single event taking place in a stadium or smoke filled room for that matter.

* Memory Testimonials - our Julia Fleming (who is of the 50+ age group) takes yoga and weight training classes, reads extensively, and is a grandmother to four darling precocious children. Our Julia will tell you (even if you haven't had a chance to ask her yet :}) that eating Dark Chocolate and drinking Red Wine are both excellent supplements for Medicinal Memory Retention.

I like the way she (Julia) thinks.  Those (chocolate and red wine) are just the kinda supplements I like to take. Actually, I've been self-prescribing those remedies for years for quite a different monthly infliction, although maybe it's all somehow related (blood flowing to brain / blood flowing quite the opposite direction from brain.)

Selective Memory Warnings:  

*Memory Clarification: 'Selective Memory' not to be confused with more typical 'Absent-Minded Memory' such as:

• forgetting to call mother right back when she called last night in middle of favorite TV show, 

• forgetting to put deodorant on after stopping what you're doing to answer phone when someone (mother) calls again in the early a.m.,

• forgetting to fill car up with gas for third day in a row because you stopped to answer phone instead of leaving house, getting in car, and calling someone (mother) right back from cell phone.

Something I never forget - my mother's birthday! This year my mother will celebrate her 85th birthday, woo wee!!!

 **Memory Further Clarification: If you are the type of person to write notes-to-self, remember Selective Memory is SM, not S&M. S&M is quite a different thing entirely, tee hee. You wouldn't want your husband thinking that you are 'upping the ante' on future memories for the Memory Bucket List. Hee hee, or, maybe you are - you go girl!
 

 

 

This Could Make You Feel Better About Yourself

A:

Ever wondered what it would be like to have enormous boobs? Or maybe you've imagined what it would be like to have a teeny tiny waist? Do you ever wonder what it would be like if your boyfriend or husband had gigantic muscles?

Wonder no more. Here are a few of the 2010 Guinness World Record holders in all things related to the human body.

 

Is it large breasts you dream of?

How about now? This is the world record holder for the largest natural breasts - her name is Annie Hawkins-Turner, or as she calls herself "Norma Stitz" (get it?), and she wears a size 48V bra. That's not a typo. She's a V cup. As in A, B, C, D... V.

 

Or perhaps you've always wanted longer legs?

 
What if your legs were 52" long a piece?! This is Svetlana Pankratova, of Russia, world record holder for longest legs. At 6'7", she wears a size 13 shoe. She's not the tallest living woman, however...

 

That title belongs to this woman:

She's Yao Defen, of China (and no relation to Yao Ming), and she's 7'8" due to a disorder in her pituitary gland.The really freaky thing is that her mother is only 4'8"!

 

Ever wished you had a teeny tiny corset waist?

Cathie Jung's waist measures 15" - that's about the same size as a regular sized jar of mayonnaise. She's been wearing corsets every day for the past 12 years to accomplish this feat and now wears one 24 hours a day (ouch!). 

 

 You probably know the age-old proverb that explains that if a man has big feet he has a big...

...yeah, no, you don't wish your boyfriend/husband had the world's biggest feet. That title belongs to this man, Turk Sultan Kosen, and he's 8'1" tall. He also holds the records for the world's largest hands AND he's the world's tallest living man.

 

Some of you may have daydreamed about what it might be like if your boyfriend or husband had gigantic muscles...

 

This dreamboat (ahem) is Greg Valentino, world record holder for the biggest biceps. At just 5'6", Greg's biceps are more than 28" in diameter. He admits to using steroids to help him attain his Herculean muscles, and once even had one of his biceps blow out, a serious injury for which he had to have several reconstructive surgeries. Ick.

 

If you're like me, you've always dreamed of long, flowing locks...

This is Xie Quiping, aged 49, who's hair measures 18 feet, 5.54 inches long. She's been growing it since 1973, when she was 13! As in, no haircuts at all since then. I get that she has a degree of notoriety from her many years of hair growing, and I mean who doesn't want a world record under their belt, but think of how many wigs Locks of Love could make if she cut it off? That would be 22. 

 

Some women think long nails is a symbol of beauty...

...so does this woman, Lee Redmond, who hasn't cut her nails since 1979. She says she has carefully grown and manicured them to an astonishing  28 feet, 4.5 inches long in total. I have a few questions: How does she bathe? How does she eat? How does she do anything with those things?

 

I, personally, have always wished I had longer eyelashes...

These belong to Sahebro Rajaram Didwagh and are 2.8 cm long (that's over one inch!). I have to say out of all of these extreme body parts, I wouldn't mind having these lashes. Although, it would be hard to find sunglasses.

  

We always wish (sometimes aloud) for things like bigger breasts, longer hair, a smaller waist, or bigger biceps, but imagine if you got what you wished for... and then some. Whether these extreme bodied people have intentionally grown out their hair, fingernails, or biceps, or if they were simply born tall, with large breasts, or with lengthy lashes, it all looks pretty freakish. Which is why I have an odd fascination with the Guinness World Records when they come out every year. But it's also why I'm okay with being pretty average, when you think about it.

Going Commando

C:

Commando Style:

A couple of weeks ago I was watching the Grammys with  2 friends (who shall rename nameless) - 1 friend my age and the other friend my age divided by 2 (and then some, 22'ish) when that cute Heidi Klum showed up with her too-sexy-even-for-one-of-his-smash-hit-songs husband Seal.

Somehow (because who really talks about this in public or on national T.V.,) Heidi confirms rather matter-of-factly I might add, that she is not wearing any underwear under her very short, very tight, very shimmery Emilio Pucci dress.

To which I exclaimed, "Eee gads! That poor woman has too many children and she forgot to put on any underwear!"

Now, my horror in regards to Heidi's rather "free" moment at the Grammys is more of a sanitary issue than a "I'm-a-prude" issue (which, I probably happen to be.) How will dear Heidi be able to sit on those overused public theater stadium seats without her underwear?! I guess she will have to sit on her husband's lap all night.

My friends took great delight in laughing at me (at my expense, of course) and said it's no big deal - everyone does it. They both confided that they 'go commando' all the time.

Really, everyone does it???!!!

I felt terribly old and 'old-fashioned.' You see, I come from a generation that was warned to always leave the house with clean underwear on because you don't know when you'll have some kind of accident? . . . The EMS will come? . . . You will be rushed to the hospital? . . . And what, . . . the doctor will turn to the nurse aghast and tell her to cut off and destroy 'said' soiled undergarments? . . . The motherly underwear-wearing warning.

I believed that for a really long time, (I can't believe that I confessed that.) Back then, we (70's children) just didn't question what our mothers said. (i.e. Don't put your hand down the disposal while it's running. Don't make that face it'll get stuck like that. Don't swim when your Aunt Flo is visiting, the sharks will attack. Don't sit so close to the T.V., you'll get radiation.)

My first real recollection of 'going commando' was the Sharon Stone Basic Instinct interview, who could ever forget Sharon's infamous leg crossing?

 

Not understanding the intent (power), I gave the psychopath (Sharon) the benefit of the doubt and figured she got dressed in a hurry and couldn't find the right pair of tighty-whities to slip on.

And then, there is the 80's urban-gala-myth of a young heiress who showed up at a black-tie affair wearing a sequined dress that was so short that the string from her Aunt Flo visit was showing (gross!)

So over the years, I am not so shocked anymore by how short, how tight, or how low the  dresses can go. I'm more shocked at the reasoning of young 'said' models, actresses, and citizens that the solution to 'said' problem dress is to ditch the underwear and 'go commando.'

But, I guess for the right dress, women will put up with (or take off ) just about anything.

In selecting this style dress, you would want to make sure your husband is a real hands-on kinda guy.

  And, be sure to tell the waiter no ice.

    

     In the challenging words of a limbo announcer, "How low can you go?"            

 Kate Bosworth and Christina Ricci - both photographed at red (gray) carpet events.

        

And, who could ever forget Hilary Swank in '05 wearing that blue Guy Laroche gown and winning an Oscar for Million Dollar Baby!

My point is simple:

Daringly Low: If it came between the dress and my panties, I would have to say that I am going to go for the panties every time.

(Apparently Heidi forgets to wear her underwear a lot.)

I suppose her husband doesn't remember to tell her, either.

Daringly Tight: I would simply have to ask the nice, helpful sales lady for a larger size. My God ladies, why would you ever intentionally buy a dress that is so tight that you can't even wear barely-there underwear with! Tell me at the end of the evening, what was your greater nemesis - the Hanky-Pankies, or the plate of sushi, three glasses of white wine, finished off with a slice of Italian cream cake. Can you say - bloated?

Daringly Short: I'm sure that there is a chair, a table, a stool, or something to sit on in your dressing room.  Well now - Have a seat. If your shy cheeks can feel the harsh metal of the chair then obviously this would be the opportune moment to ask your commission based sales associate to bring you a larger size. 'Said' shortie dress should never be shorter than hand-relaxed-at-your-side fingertips. Any shorter, in my day (1st and 2nd. grade) we wore navy bloomers under it :}

                           

Not to mention, there is an additional non-negotiable requirement with 'going commando.' 

The more garments you bare / the more hair you need to bare.

The Wax: 

Here are a few of your choices:

The Brazilian (changed Gwyneth's life!)

The Landing Strip (popular amongst strippers)

The Ghandi (I hope he never has to hear of this)

 Hitler's Mustache (again, gross)

Or you shave, and risk razor-burn, in-grown hairs, and not to mention stubble.

In conclusion:

I think underwear is a good thing, a very good thing. I just don't know why you wouldn't  want an extra layer of material between you and public seating. You and the valet. You and your very expensive favorite new dress. You and the world. 

Victoria's Secret's Solution - tiny low-rise panties.

As Defined by Wikipedia:

Going commando, or free balling, is the practice of not wearing underwear under one's outer clothing. "Going commando" is reputed to have begun with commando and other special forces military units, in which some soldiers stopped wearing underwear to prevent chafing.^{[citation needed]} The term is probably related to the much earlier term "going regimental", which refers to wearing the kilt military style, that is, without underwear. (see True Scotsman)

Be Mine

C:

Valentine's Day is just another way Hallmark reminds husbands how lousy they are at romance. Personally, I don't think that there is anything romantic about a bare-assed, winged cherub with a small potentially lethal weapon fluttering around a page shooting arrows at my 'metaphorical' heart. 

Now, I'm not picking on Hallmark per say, I'm just stating in my own words that I kinda feel sorry for husbands around Valentine's Day. I think us wives (or girlfriends) put a hell of a lot of pressure on these poor husbands (and just after Christmas!) to be overly sappy romantic on a predetermined day. 

My personal Valentine's Day expectations run the gamut somewhere between reservations, flowers, and cheap baked goods. For years, my husband and I ate dinner out so much that what was special to me was for him to cook us dinner at home for V.D. Last year was the opposite, we'd been eating dinner at home a lot so I asked him to make reservations for us to go out for a special V.D.dinner to one of our favorite neighborhood restaurants. In the twelve years that we have been together, it would be our first V.D. dinner outing. I thoughtfully reminded him that he would need to call the restaurant way in advance for reservations because V.D. is a huge event in America and the restaurant would book-up quickly.

My sweet husband was all kinds of pleased with himself for immediately calling the restaurant and reserving their best table. 

My friends still laugh at this story (now, you have to remember that my husband suffers from ETL - English is his third language.) So on February 13, my  husband gleefully reminds me of our best-seat-in-the-house dinner reservations being held for that night.

To which I blankly respond, "You mean tomorrow night, right? Today is just the 13th."

He looks at me kinda warily, "Isn't Valentine's one of those days like Christmas or New Years that you celebrate it the night before, on the Eve? You know, Valentine's Eve?"

 The "Ughh!!!" that could be heard around the world."You didn't!?"

"Umm, I think I probably did," wince.

So, we sat in a nearly empty restaurant on Valentine's Eve celebrating Valentine's Day with all the procrastinating husbands or boyfriends (and their angry wives / girlfriends) who called too late and couldn't get reservations for the real night (14th). The mood of the restaurant was anything but romantic, I would say more like piercing. I, however, had never been out for a Valentine's Eve Dinner and actually thought it was quite charme. Once I warmed up to the idea, I agreed with my husband that the restaurant was not nearly as crowded, they did not have some ridiculously arranged price-fix dinner, and they were in no hurry to turn the table over for the next seating (because there was no next seating). So, on that very Valentine's Eve night, we decided to celebrate Valentines like all the other really confusing American holidays and exchange pleasantries on the eve of - Valentine's Eve that is.

I'm one of the lucky ones. I don't have any unrealistic expectations around Valentine's Day; therefor, I am never disappointed by the holiday.

Cartier Love Bracelets

(Husband should buy Valentine lottery ticket, ha.)

But, hey, I get it - some women go into Valentines with years of disappointment strapped to their backs. Warning gentlemen, she will snap sooner than later.

When I was in New York last week, I was sitting in a swanky jewelry store having a ring sized while at the desk next to me an older woman was shopping on line with a sales associate. The unassuming customer was contemplating a lovely pink sapphire bracelet (presumably for Valentine's Day) for $465,000. And then, she really brightened up when she realized that for just a little bit more (another $60,000 = $525,000) she could have it with diamonds too. All day I thought about it - Do husbands really gift half million dollar bracelets for Valentine's Day? Will she (unassuming customer) even bother to tell her husband (presumably unromantic robot) that she has already charged the bracelet (of course, to him) and had it wrapped for V.D.? Surprise! Hmmm.

I read on the internet this morning that 20% of all Valentine's presents will be an expensive piece of jewelry (10% will be engagement rings) Who knew my 80 / 20 rule applied to Valentine's Day to?! I wonder if they (the study makers) figured out what % of 'said' 20 % jewelry buyers were women getting even with their unromantic (robot) husbands, hmmm?

I will remind you all that since I own Indulge (gift store) my husband is at an even further disadvantage than most husbands because I sell almost everything that I truly love - gift idea wise. But here is a list of great gift ideas that I think any woman would be happy to receive for Valentine's Day. I know I would be happy to receive any of them. (Feel free to forward to unimaginative husband accidently, wink.)

10 Great Appropriate Valentine Gifts for her:

Card - sweet, sappy, funny, or romantic. Lovingly signed!

Flowers - delivered or personally selected, almost anything goes - just try to stay clear of the Carnations and Baby's Breath. My personal favorite V.D. bouquet would be baby-aspirin-pink French  Tulips.

Champagne - giggle

Sweets - always a favorite! Nothing with the words - diet, low cal, or less fat printed on the packaging.

Perfume - can be tricky, stick with a fragrance she already wears. Can not be found at Walgreens or CVS.

Sleepy-time outfit - something she would like, not you. It's her present.

Bath Bubblies - one of my favorites.

Spa Package - ahhh. To included - massage, facial, mani / pedi, not bikini wax!

Weekend Getaway - that may turn into week-long getaway.

 Jewelry - if you fell short at Christmas, this is a good opportunity to step up to the plate and redeem yourself. 

Cartier Love Bracelet in white gold, yellow gold and rose gold (He won't have to think of another V.D. gift for two years - so convenient.)

*** All gifts can be combined with other gifts on the list for even more hugs and kisses of thanks, wink. May I suggest at least three picks for maximum Valentine return.

And, a Valentine's Day must:

Reservations - at home (he shops, cooks, cleans up and puts the dishes away - because you just know he's going to use twice as many pots as you would) or at a favorite restaurant (preferably a table for 2, sans any pathetic old divorced hunting buddies).

**Clarification for husbands - (in my humble V.D. opinion, which in reality is probably similar to your wives) reservations are probably not enough, you (husband) should still select from above mentioned 'Gifts for Her' list.

   

Not very Valentine-y:

(and may get you (husband) in all kinds of trouble)

Anything with batteries

Anything with electrical cord

Anything with garters

Anything that is lick-able or edible

Anything that she can't tell her mother or best friend

Anything that sounds like you (him) would like too much - i.e. sports game, terminator movie, boat show, hunting trip . . .

Anything that says I.O.U. (back-rub, massage, breakfast in bed)

Anything that resembles 'love' dollars, whatever - you know what I'm talking about. Redeemable for - - - 

Porn is always a bad idea

As I mentioned earlier, my Valentine's Day requests are simple:

A funny card that he writes a message in (no fair just signing your name.)

Reservations (Valentine's Day Eve, ha ha)

Flowers arranged in pretty vase (not sitting in the sink when I get home from work.)

Cheap baked goods (preferably purchased from supermarket with gobs of sugary icing.)

***And if I happen to fall into the lucky 20% category, I won't brag to much.

Who am I kidding, I'll blog about it !!! (But blogging isn't bragging, right? ha, ha)

Embheiressing Heiresses

Indulge

In recent years, the fabulously wealthy has spawned a new breed of celebrity: the heiress. Of course, "heiress" is not a new term, nor is media speculation of heiresses a new trend. What is more recent, however, is the constant media pursual of them. Whether they spend their time acting philanthropically or acting mischievously (okay, especially when they act mischievously), they can't escape media attention and scrutiny. 

Here is my list of some of the world's most intriguing heiresses - of course, some are beautiful, inspiring, and accomplished, while others are... well, others are Hiltons. Ahem. Either way, these are the girls to watch now and, I think, in the future.

 

Ivanka Trump

Heiress. Socialite. Model. Businesswoman. Ivanka Trump, daughter of Donald and first wife Ivana, is currently the Executive Vice President of Development and Acquisitions of the Trump Organization, a position which her father will assure you she had to earn. Either way, you'll notice that taking the reins of the family company is not always an option for more disgraced, notorious-for-partying heiresses (these companies always have board members, you know). She also has a jewelry line, with a flagship retail store on Madison Avenue in New York.

 

Aerin Lauder

 Art lover and heir to the Estee Lauder fortune. Like Ivanka Trump, she's one of the new breed of "trust-fund tycoons," or those that work although they're born wealthy. Having joined the company in 1992 in the marketing department, she has worked her way up to Senior Vice President and Creative Director for Estee Lauder, which houses acquired brands like Clinique, MAC, Bobbi Brown, La Mer, Jo Malone, Aveda, Bumble and Bumble, and many others.

Julia Louis Dreyfus

You know her best as Elaine Benes on Seinfeld. But what many people don't know is that she is the daughter of a billionaire heir to the Louis Dreyfus Group, one of the world's largest commodities trading and merchandising firms. Julia's stepfather, once dean of George Washington University Medical School, was a philanthropist who travelled around the world working for Project Hope, a trait that surely rubbed off on her.

 

 

Athina Onassis Roussel

 Competitive equestrian and only surviving heir to grandfather Aristotle Onassis, Greek shipping magnate once married to Jackie. Half French and half Greek, she married Alvaro de Miranda, son of a Brazilian businessman and Olympic-class show jumper, in 2005 (she's now Athina Onassis Miranda). She seems to try to stay beneath the media radar, and although not always successful, seems more grounded than her peers.

 

 

Dylan Lauren

 Daughter of Ralph. Enough said, right? Wrong. She's also the founder and proprieter of Dylan's Candy Bar, an upscale candy store with several locations in the U.S. Philanthropically, she represents a broad range of organizations, such as the Feed Project and the Art of Elysium Charity Gala. She was also named one of New York's 25 Most Stylish People in 2007.

 

Delphine Arnault Gancia

 

Another heiress and "trust-fund tycoon," Delphine is the daughter of Bernard Arnault, founder, chairman, and CEO of LVMH, a large luxury goods conglomorate consisting of over fifty luxury brands, including Louis Vuitton, Dior, and Fendi. She is the HR Manager of LVMH and sits on the board, controlling 7.5% of the company's stocks and has been particularly instrumental in the development of Dior Parfums. In 2005, she married Alessandro Vallarino Gancia, heir to an Italian wine fortune.

Amanda Hearst

Great-granddaughter of media tycoon William Randolph Hearst, Amanda Hearst is an heiress to a media empire that reports $5 billion annual revenue, socialite, and fashion model (she's signed to major New York agency IMG Models). She went to Ivanka's alma mater, Choate Rosemary Hall, a boarding school in Connecticut, and is deeply involved in charities like Riverkeepers and the Princess Grace Foundation.

 

 

 

 

Georgina Bloomberg

 Horse-obsessed daughter of New York City Mayor Michael Bloomberg - she could have been the First Daughter! She stays out of the Socialite limelight and out of the pages of Page Six, unlike her other New York City cohorts. An accomplished equestrian who owns nine of her own horses, at one point, she was vying for a position on the 2008 Olympic team. She founded Rider's Closet, an organization which collects riding clothes and gear and donates it to intercollegiate athletes. 

 

Paris Hilton

Hilton Hotel heiress, socialite, model, actress, paparazzi-favorite, author, etc. I think the question with her is, what don't you know about her (remember the sex tape? Blegh.) 

 

Casey Johnson

You probably didn't know much about her, or even who she was, until the news of her untimely death made headlines last month. Great-great-granddaughter to Robert Wood Johnson I, founder of Johnson & Johnson. This one really had more of a tumultuous life; she was diagnosed with diabetes as a child, she had a falling out with her aunt in 2006 after she accused Casey of stealing her boyfriend, and was arrested for stealing from an ex-girlfriend in November of 2009. She always said that the biggest mistake of her life was declining the offer to costar with Paris Hilton in The Simple Life, a role which went to, and made a househole name out of, Nicole Richie. She adopted a daughter from Kazakhstan in 2007 and worked with the Juvenile Diabetes Research Foundation for much of her life. Sadly, Casey was found dead at her L.A. home on January 4th. She had been "cut off" in the months preceding her death and her daughter had been taken away from her, reportedly because she suffered from drug addiction problems.

  

So really, the lesson here is that heiresses are not whole lot different than us - some choose to do good things with their good luck, which has granted them with fortune and prosperity, and some aren't so lucky. Obviously, being born into massive wealth, privelage and possibility has its advantages - many people are envious of those born with a silver spoon in their mouth, so to speak - but sometimes access to all that you humanly desire can go horribly wrong. Of course, as a parent, most people want to give their children the moon. But if you are lucky enough to create the kind of wealth that makes your children heirs and heiresses, pray they turn out more like Ivanka and less like Paris.

 

The Concealer

C:

Every season I buy one thing I absolutely can't live without. Now, I admit that I have an unfair advantage over most local fashionistas because I get  to go to New York twice a year (Aug., Feb.) and Paris twice a year (Sept., Jan.) And, don't forget about the piles (4 'subs.') of fashion magazines that find their way to my mailbox each and every month to aid me in any self-important purchases that I might need to make for myself. And, not to mention the fact that I work with a handful of darling, beautiful twenty-something young ladies who come to work everyday with their hair and makeup done and a too cute age/work appropriate outfit on. It all makes me realize that my old hair in a ponytail - When was the last time I washed it? and - makeup - Did I remember to put any on today because I certainly can't tell by looking in the mirror anymore?  both subjects (Hair & Makeup - H&M) leave a lot of room for improvement.

Conclusion: Getting much to old for 'weekend look' during 'the week.' So, this season will concentrate on 'fabulous-blown-dry-straight-hair (may even try using Chi - purchased over Memorial Day weekend last June and taken out of box twice.) And, not leaving the house without an appropriate amount of makeup on (meaning at least brows, shadow, mascara, blush, and lip stuff.)

Now, I don't make this kinda stuff (Hair and Makeup-H&M) part of my New Year's Resolutions because let's face it - that would be pretty shallow even by my standards. Perhaps H&M fall into more of a 'Personal Resolution' rather than a N.Y.R. category.

Personal Resolution now being made (witnessed on blog) for rest of entire life - Will leave house with hair 'done' (at least secured) and makeup 'applied' (Or, at least wearing  fab sunglasses. It's always good to have a contingency plan.)

I think that there are three types of women in this world (at least in Texas):

• Those who walk out their front door looking like they just stepped out of a photo shoot. Just under 10%.

• Those who walk out their back door and should turn right around and go back inside the house and change (after they pick up discarded outfit off the floor and throw it away for good this time.) Just over 10%.
  

• Those who fall somewhere in between . The other 80% of us
  

***Who knew my 80/20 rule applied to fashion too!

Over Christmas I caught myself several times complimenting a customer on how beautiful she looked that day (hair, makeup, fashion, jewelry) and would ask if she had just been to a luncheon or party, and she would blankly reply, "No, why?" And you say under your breath, "Because I don't look that good on my best days, let alone a Tuesday afternoon?!"

Then there's that group that remarks, "I shouldn't be out! Look at me, I'm a mess! I shouldn't even be wearing this old thing" And again, you say under your breath, "My God woman, what are you thinking - You should have tossed that coat twenty years ago." Some things will never be good enough to be vintage

And, then there's the rest of us who sort of look like we are dressed to run errands our whole life.

3 Categories:

Fashion-Glossy -10% of female population

Turn-Around-and-Go-Back- Inside-the-House - 10% of female population

 Perpetual-Errand-Runner - 80% of female population

So, I think our 'Personal Resolution' goal here should be somewhere between Fashion-Glossy and Perpetual-Errand-Runner.

Think of it this way . . . Picture the one person in the world - critical mother, snarky girlfriend, old boyfriend, new wife of ex-husband . . .

How horrified would you be to run into them?

Or, would you be able to throw your head high, cinch in your belt, and go up and give them an air-kiss and tell them how wonderful it is to run into them. . . bullshit, bla, bla, bla. And, walk away smiling because that really wasn't that bad. (Of course, they will never know you still have you pajama bottoms on under that fab coat, tee hee.)

My Top Ten Fashion Concealers:

First, let's remember cleanliness is next to Godliness.

Brush thy hair! Or, at least secure it somehow.

A little blush, mascara, lip goo go a long way.

A great pair of sunglasses hides a multitude of late night sinning.

A fab trench coat covers it all - short or long.

Jewelry, we all have a little crow in us. Our eyes will always follow anything shiny or sparkly. (Only the good stuff, nothing wood, acrylic, or plastic, uhem.)

Finger nails and toenails should always be clean. You may not notice them but others do.

Accessories can make (or break) any outfit - meaning scarves, hats, belts.

Love thy purse.

And, smile. Remember you're from Texas - one of the 'friendly states.'

Here are a few 'notables' out and about who always manage to look their Fashion-Glossy / Perpetual-Errand-Runner best. Think of them for inspiration!

Angelina Jolie:

Apparently, doesn't concern herself to much with fashion. Much more interested in handsome husband, 1/2 dozen children, Oscar winning career, and all around do-gooding.

               

Rascal children in toe and still manages to look absolutely beautiful.   

Kate Moss:

Waif turned supermodel, mother, fashion empress, and the face of Burberry, YSL, David Yurman, and Longchamp.

       
A sunny day, a windy day, an awful rainy day, and she still manages to look tres chic in her kitty-cat coats.

Kate Hudson:

Dating champion, mother, adorable Oscar winning actress, and avid 'ball' fan.

 
It really can be that black and white, oh, and grey.

Victoria Beckham:

Rock Goddess, ball player's wife, mother, fashion designer, and collector of Hermes Handbags.

   
Yes, I put her on my best dressed 'concealer' list. You have to admit for yourself that she looks pretty incredible - bag, coat, sunglasses . . .

Conclusion: These gals all know how to fool 'em. They could be wearing their skivvies underneath those fab coats and the papparazi would be none the wiser, tee hee.

And, the most famous "Concealer" fashionista of them all . . .

Holly Golightly:

Cigarette girl, friend to prison inmates, wife, flirt, cat lover, lover of all things Tiffany, "Is she or isn't she?. . . A phony?"

Who would ever question a gal in a mink hat? 

C:

Shop Keeper, Blogger, wife, and mother of two furry Briards.

       

Fooled ya! All pics taken in my skivvies and no makeup.

 

    Ta Da! Here I am in my new (must-have-this-season) YSL shortie Trench Coat purchased as gift to myself. I have already worn it everyday since I bought it. Perfect for all the rainy January Days and my upcoming trips to Paris and New York. Just call me 'The Concealer.' Will be delighted to run into whoever . . .

 

'The Help' - My Book Review

C:

I am a voracious reader. I delight in being the proud recipient of 7 different magazine subscriptions (was 8, I miss my S.A.). I do not even feel the least bit ashamed to admit that  2 'subs' fall under the unsubstantiated category of tabloid folly - People and US Weekly. All 'subs' gifted to me for birthday and Christmas' presents by most thoughtful friends. You think it's hard to buy for your friends, you should hear my friends wince - "No, she really does have everything!"

 In regards to one of my other so-called at home free time activities (besides laundry), I watch a lot of movies on T.V.. My personal movie taste borders somewhat on the mentality of monotonous and repetitive.  I will happily watch the same silly movie over and over - beginning, middle, or end, whichever part is on at that time, doesn't matter to me at all (it drives my husband insane.) Secretly, I wish The Holiday starring Cameron Diaz and Jude Law would be on 24-7. My husband just doesn't understand how cute Cameron's clothes are, or how magnificently blue Jude Law's eyes are in that movie.

Like any addict, I have to closely monitor myself because I love T.V., and I love downloading movies from Net Flix so much that at times that's all I do. I can easily forget to shower, do house chores, feed the dogs, do laundry, or reply to my husband when he asks me how my day went. And, forget about reading a book. Who has the time to read a book with all that nonstop T.V. to watch?

My movie tastes are not what I would call intellectual or consistent. So please don't ask me my opinions on the movies nominated for a Golden Globe or an Academy Award because I will not have seen any of the movies nominated. I love all things BBC, murder mystery, serial killer, forensics, and romantic. If there was a romantic comedy about forensic serial killers, I'd be the first in line at the theater. (The new Sherlock Holmes movie almost fits that specific criteria.)

And again starring Mr. Jude Law, hmmm.

As far as my taste in literature goes, apparently, I'm even less discerning (by anyone's standards, not just my own). So having made this confession and clarification  I will tell you what books I took to read on my H.I. beach holiday: James Patterson - serial killer, James Patterson - serial killer, Nanny Returns - fiction, (all three purchased at local grocery store at 25% off jacket price), and The Help - fiction (loaned and recommended by a dear friend). Of course, I read the serial killer books first because I know what to expect there - a good fright.

I love James Patterson books for the beach because each chapter is like three pages long so it allows lots of time to look up from the book and observe (spy) on neighboring sunbathers. And, while I'm observing (spying), I love to come to conclusions (that's the forensic specialist in me) about my fellow sun worshipers.

The third book on my reading list was Nanny Returns.

So, I'm on my lovely beach holiday, reading N.R. and observing (spying) on the happy families around me. Suddenly, I realize something that I had not observed during my serial killer reading spree - all surrounding families seemed to have an extra unit to their groupings. Upon second glance that crazy looking aunt with the tomato red hair doesn't actually look to be related to anyone in her 'family group.' That pretty brunette (in the tiny black bikini) playing with blonde little tot is way too old for that (tot's) mother to have conceived. Suddenly, everywhere I looked, I noticed the same type of 'said' inconsistencies in all the family 'units.' Everyone on the beach seemed to have brought their nanny on holiday with them, hmmm. While the daddies were clicking away on their crackberries and stoging cigars, and the mommies were running to lunch or to meet a girlfriend to go shopping, the nannies were spending invaluable time with the cutie-pie children. I wonder what the children will remember from their 'family' vacation?

The next book I read was The Help a novel by Kathryn Stockett.

Now, stop whatever it is you are doing (well, go ahead and finish reading the blog) and go out and buy this book. The Help is the best book I have read in years. It's the kind of book you want to hurry up and finish, but you don't want to rush through it because you actually don't want to finish it because you're enjoying it that much. The Help is a the equivalent of a literature ice cream brain freeze.

I loved everything about this book. What a brilliant young girl to have written such an insightful book, kudos to her. I want to talk about the book, but I don't want to give anything away. So, I will make my points in a very general manner.

For those of you with' help', this simple questionnaire is directed to you:

1.)Do you pay your 'help' the average wage? Or, do you pay her a little more.

2.)How often do you give her a raise?

3.)Do you pay her sick days?

4.)Do you pay her vacation days?

5.)Do you dock her pay if she comes late or leaves early?

6.)If you are having lunch, do you offer her the same or like thing to eat. Does she eat at the same time or even in the same room as you?

7.)Do you give her a Christmas bonus? Or, birthday gift?

8.)Do you dock her pay if she breaks something or ruins it?

9.)Have you ever replaced your help because she was getting to old? If so, how much severance did you give her?

10.)Does she spend more time with your child and/or pet than you do?

11.)Does she wash your sheets, scrub your toilet, and mop your floors?

12.)Does she wash and iron your clothes, dust every nook and cranny, and clean that pot in the refrigerator that you can't remember what is was or from when?

***13.)Does she do everything in the world that you don't want to do?

What are you waiting for - Go give that woman a hug. Tell her you are sorry. Promise her you will be better. And, if you did not give her a Christmas bonus, go to your desk and write her out a check right now. In fact, double it.

Because let me remind you (as I was reminded in this book) that dear sweet woman does not wake up every day and thank her lucky stars that she gets to spend her entire day cleaning up after some other woman who is too busy to clean up after herself.

When I finish this blog, I am going to go straighten up my house because M. is coming tomorrow, and I'm horrified my house is so messy. Thank god for the M.'s of this world and thank her for coming to help!

The book The Help is so much more than I let on, please read it. I think it is an important book on so many levels: friend/friend, mother/daughter, employer/help, and sadly colored/white. And, how we can all be led so astray just to fit in and be accepted by that one person whose approval means so much. How and why do we give those people that kind of power in our lives? How do the Hillys of this world get to be the Queen Bee?!

And, thank God I was born in the '60's and did not come of age in the '60's. All I know of the Civil Rights Movement is what I have read (in a somewhat detached manner) or seen on old T.V. clippings. My father grew up in Philadelphia and was raised by a women who must have been a lot like Aibileen. My father loved this woman with a little boy heart and spoke of her with such genuine love, compassion, and respect until the day she passed away that it would never have occurred to me as a small child to see or treat her any differently than any other close relative.

Thank God for 48 years 1962-2010. (1962 being the year The Help begins.)

And, don't forget to be thoughtful and help your help around the house.

My New Year's Resolution(s)

 

C:

 

 

My New Year's Resolution(s), I mean Additions.

I took a poll today to see if any of my friends, co-workers, or family members had thought about what their New Year's Resolution(s) might be. Well, much to my surprise, I was generally met with astonishment - "Huh," from one. "Oh my God, we're not even through Christmas yet!" exclaimed another. And, a familiar chuckle, with a roll of her eyes from yet another, "I can't even remember if I made one (resolution) last year, hmmm." And my favorite - "I don't do New Years, I do Lent. It's shorter, less pressure. More manageable. Plus, I feel bad if I break Lent because I'm Catholic. I feel like something bad might happen to me (if I break Lent) and nobody (God) is paying attention to the New Year's Resolution, if I break it who cares, there's no consequences." And, yet more laughter from another, "I don't know, I don't need to lose any weight this year! I don't know if I have anything else to give up."

I polled the same group of people again and this time asked them what some of their past New Year's Resolutions (NYR) were, and their answers all seemed to revolve around the same subject matter - exercise more and drink less. Translation - dieting. Dieting is good, don't get me wrong; it's just not very thought provoking. And, kinda something you should just be doing anyway. The other old standby seemed to be - shop less. Again, how soulful. And, from a fellow fashionista, "I'm adding skirts and color to my life!" I didn't realize NYR transcended to wardrobe selections and Pucci prints?

All polled also agreed that I should write about something else this week - something more Christmas-y; after all New Year's is another week and a half away. "Exactly!" I exclaimed. "That is exactly why I'm going to write about New Year's Resolutions (NYR) this week, not next week. I think that one of the main reasons why people fail at NYR is because they don't put enough thought into it. They decide after Christmas, when they are feeling all bloated, exhausted, and broke. Things that make you go hmmm - After weeks of reckless shopping and Christmas party over-indulgences NOW I'm going to make my NYR to exercise more, drink less, and shop less. What a stretch. How mind altering. And, since I came up with this (or these) fabulous resolutions so easily, I will have no problem committing to them for an entire year, ha. Result - 6 weeks later (max.), resolution(s) broken, little regret. How can you possibly regret something very much when you put so little, or even no thought (effort) into it.?

Other NYR's worth sharing - "Being on time."  "Hell, I don't know - Not cussing so much, ha, ha." and a favorite exploited by many I'm sure, "Not talking badly about friends or family members."

Well, I'm the exact opposite. While everyone else is planning what pretty dress to wear to which fabulous New Year's event, I'm planning which completely remote destination do I want to wake up in. In my thirties, I wanted to wake up to Howler monkeys in the almost inaccessible (8 hour bus ride, ugh) rain-forest of Manuel Antonio, Costa Rica. No T.V., no hot water, no air-conditioning, no phone, no internet, no shopping, no invitations, just me - a friend (later, my husband), a few items hastily thrown into a backpack, lots of books, and a very noisy rain-forest. Oh yeah, and one very small crab that seemed to live in the drain of the shower.

As soon as I would arrive (Did I mention - how terrifying the 8 hour bus ride was?) at my $25 a night hotel, I would kick my shoes off, hide my watch in the toe of my travel shoe, and throw a swimsuit and pareo on. No makeup, no hair, no outfits with coordinating Gucci sandals, just the feeling of ahhh.  And, the sound of nothing. Complete silence - except of course for the birds, bugs, monkeys, ocean, clinking of tiny crab in shower, and laughter from the jolly German in the room one over. I would head straight for the beach, take a long swim, go for an even longer walk, take a short nap, eat an incredible dinner of whatever the local fisherman had caught that day, read some more, and fall fast asleep. Only, to be awoken at the crack of dawn by those silly Howler monkeys chattering about what a beautiful day it was going to be. 

The day would begin with a huge South American breakfast of fresh juices, local fruit plucked from a nearby tree, and freshly brewed Costa Rican coffee. Then, I would go for a long swim in the ocean, an even longer walk on the beach, read some . . . . . nap, . . . . . walk, . . . . . swim, . . . . .fresh fish, . . . . . read, . . . . .fall asleep. . . . .

Somehow, I actually came to realize that when there are absolutely no distractions, and you have run out of books to read, you will be left with no other choice than to think. And, what do you think is the one thing that you can't stop thinking about? - Yourself.

In the immortal words of Seinfeld's beloved patriarch Frank Costanza - "Serenity Now!"

So, what always comes up for me when I'm on vacation is this - How do I get this feeling of 'Ahhh,' at home? How can I live my life at home with the same sense of ease that I have when I'm away from whatever it is in my life that makes my days so crazy?!

So, I make a list, of course. And being slightly O.C.D., I don't have one single thing about vacations that I love, I love several things. I'm busy loving my vacation morning-noon-and-night:

Walking on the Beach,

Peace and Quiet,

Not Caring What Time it is,

 Fresh Seafood and Fresh Fruit,

 Reading a Good Book,

Swim in the Ocean,

 Falling Asleep Exhausted at the End of the Day.

So, how can I get that Ewww, Ahhh feeling once the vacation is over, and I have returned to  my regular drone life in Houston where I work 6 days a week?

Every Year, (for the last fifteen years, or so) My New Year's Resolution has been: I Resolve to Live a More 'Relaxed' Life.

My Past New Year's Resolution Tips: Translation - 7 Things You Could Add to Your Life on a Daily, Weekly, or Monthly Basis That Would Relieve Some Stress in Your Life and Possibly Make You Feel Better (more relaxed).

Go for a Walk: Literally, exercise is supposed to be an incredible stress relief, and I don't mean - join an exercise class, buy a new outfit, and rush to get there five minutes late because you can't find a parking spot. I mean - walk out your door, take a deep breathe, and go for a walk (try to take the dog.) Just breathe.  Try going before work to organize your thoughts, it's a great way to clear your head. I always go for a walk in the middle of writing the blog, and I usually think of the funniest thing to say when I'm the furthest from the house with no way to write it down. Note to self: Should bring tiny notepad and pen on walks or a friend with good short-term memory.

Silence: Start by turning the radio off in your car. And, don't call anyone either. Just try to get where you're going without a lot of drama. (Impossible feat for my sweet husband who mutters and curses under his breathe at traffic - very stressful for all)

 Take Your Watch Off: The other day, I had a complete left brain/right brain moment. I was sitting in my car at a stoplight, heading to work when I looked down at my hands (positioned correctly, I might add - 10 & 2.) On my right, I had a pretty ring and matching bracelet, and on my left hand nothing. Somehow, I had forgotten to put on my wedding ring and my watch (I immediately checked to see if I had on deodorant) and, I was half way to work before I realized my blunder. I wondered how the day would go not knowing every minute of every hour. No problemo - there was a clock on the dashboard of the car, twelve inches over on the radio, and again, on my phone, and all six computers at the store. Everywhere I looked, there was the time, it was too much time. Is it necessary to know the time every minute of every day? Do we really need to know the time every milli-second of every moment. I take my watch off the moment I get home. There is no need for me to know what time it is all night in my own home.

Eat Well: My husband, who grew up living all over the world, declares that I have never tasted real fruit. He can not imagine a society (Americans) that grows up eating waxed fruits and vegetables. And, don't even get him started on the aisles of canned, boxed and frozen foods found at every chain grocery store throughout every tree lined neighborhood. He can not even stand the idea of buying fresh-frozen fish. Be aware, look at the box, read the ingredients, not just the calories. Be conscious of what you eat. Try buying all your groceries fresh (not frozen, canned, or boxed.)

Read a Book: Enjoy some time to yourself. Spend thirty minutes or an hour every day enjoying being relaxed. Again, no phone, T.V., or radio. My dog enjoys book reading time and her subsequent tummy tickles.

Soak in the Tub: With no ocean nearby to jump into, I resort to my tub. Every night, I take a long soak in my tub to relax. Again, no phone, no T.V., no music, - just the tub. I dim the lights and pour a little something smelly in the water and just relax for thirty or so minutes. I usually think of something really fun to add to the blog when I am half way to the state of prune. Again, pen and paper would be handy.

Go to Bed When You're Tired: I can easily tell when I'm stressed out about something because I can not fall asleep. We all know that endless feeling of just lying there awake, mind whirling, no sleep in sight,  grrr. On vacation, I always fall asleep while I'm laying in bed thinking about what a wonderful day it was. No whirling, no grrr-ing. Just sleep. So, it's not just about going to bed when you're tired, it's also about focusing on the things that did go well that day and let the other things resolve themselves tomorrow.

 

So, as you can see, my New Year's Resolutions are not 'resolutions' per say they are more like 'additions'. For me, it is not so much about omitting, denying, or sacrificing - that all feels so negative and defeating. Instead, I choose to 'add' something positive to my life rather than 'take-something-away.'  Years ago, I asked my father (a.k.a. Pop Davis) what he was giving up for lent, and he replied that this year he was adding something positive to his day instead. My father is a very spiritual man, and he told me that he was going to set aside a certain amount of time each morning for prayer (very helpful in times of crisis to have prayerful father) So, my idea of adding instead of denying actually came from an elder, wiser person (And, if you ever saw the size of my father's tummy, you would understand that he's not exactly the type of guy who offers things (desserts) up for a New Year's (365 day) Resolution.

My New Year's Resolutions 2010: 

(Already decided upon and just happens to be a repeat of last year's)

I Resolve to Live a More Relaxed Life, by:

Turning the Radio Off in my Car

Spending Less Time Looking at my Watch

Going for a Walk

Eating Well

Reading a Book

Soaking in the Tub

Going to bed When I'm Tired

Not lose sleep over . . . . .

 

If you can't think of any 'additions' of your own and you'd like to borrow some of mine, go ahead and have at it. You might actually find some positive results without even trying very hard.

Possiblities: Unconsciously of course, you might even manage to lose weight, drink a little less, and if you do decide to read a book instead of a fashion magazine or shop the web, you might even 'shop less' 

Possible End Result: More money saved by eating well, drinking less, and shopping less to spend on insightful trip to quiet remote locale.

This year, I'll be ringing in the New Year on a remote island in the Bahamas that is 3 miles long and a half a mile wide. While I'm there, I will be enjoying all of my resolutions, I mean additions, and thinking about what a great year 2010 is going to be. I know that there are parts of 2009 that almost everyone is ready to put behind us.

 

And, oh yeah, - While I'm there I will try very hard not to cuss even when I don't catch a  sneaky, and elusive bone fish all day.

And, I will also try very hard not to say anything bad about anybody (stupid-ass-bone-fish- that-I-have-never-caught-and-my-8-year-old-nephew-caught-on-his-first-day, grrr.)

Oops, that was two broken commonly over-tried NYR in one swoop. Well, I've been working on those two (NYR) for at least a decade now. Like I said, I do better with adding something positive than stopping something naughty. Those two things (cussing and talking badly - stupid-ass fish?) are simply encoded in my DNA and part of my personality, and I can't possibly seem to rid myself of them, ughhh.

Good luck making your resolutions or as I like to say - additions!

 

 

 

Not-So-Cordially-Invited: Party Crashing

 

Indulge

 

Party crashing is defined as the act of attending an invite-only event without invitation. 

The term "party crash" dates back to the 1920s with the end of the prohibition era and the ushering in of flappers and the roaring 20's philosophy of pleasure.

 

Now, there's been a lot of talk about party crashing of late - remember those "tacky" Salahis who crashed the White House State Dinner last month?

 

 
 

Sure, it's in poor taste to crash a party at The White House - but you have to admit it takes guts. Secret service, a list, important politicians, bodyguards... you have to give them credit for their courage (or maybe it was just shameless fame-mongering?).

 

        

   
Ahem.
 

It's probably also in poor taste to "crash" things like weddings (despite the popularity of the movie), funerals, a bris, or anything else that's personal and family-oriented where you may be discovered.

But let's face it - at one point or another, we've probably all been somewhere where we weren't exactly invited. Maybe it was your older sister's closet, your parent's liquor cabinet, or your significant other's phone. Maybe you "crashed" homeroom ten minutes late, your house via your bedroom window after sneaking out, or your living room (with a clear view of the chimney) on Christmas Eve. 

 

  
 

So, instead of judging the Salahis, infamous party crashers (who, by the way, come up first when you Google the term "party crashing"), I've been thinking about what the "rules" of party crashing might be. If there are rules.

 

  

1) Show up late. You want to get there late enough to where you're not walking into an empty room where your lack of invitation is obvious. Plus, the later you are, the more drinks everyone will have had.

2) Do some research. Scope it out. Look it up on Facebook. Ask someone you know is going. Whatever you do, find out about the occasion, the host, and the dress code. You do NOT want to show up to a formal black tie event in jeans.

3) Bring party favors. If you bring a bottle of wine, you won't look like you're there to mooch food and alcohol, and chances are no one will ask questions.

4) Be confident. Walk in the door as though you belong. Mix and mingle and don't act any differently than you would if you were invited.

5) Be polite. Don't get caught sneaking around the master bathroom medicine cabinets or peeking into rooms with closed doors. Enough said.

 

Don't forget about that other breed of party crasher: The Unintentional Party Crasher. You know them, they're the people at your party who came with someone you did invite. 

 

As anybody who's had a wedding or who's planned one for a friend or family member knows, it's all about headcount. Some of your guests get "and guested", meaning they can bring a date, and some don't. When my friends and I get invited to weddings, we always ask one another: "Did you get 'and guest-ed'?" If you do, chances are you and your "guest" are getting pretty serious. That or you are in with that bride.

Anyway, all of this is excruciatingly important for tallying up your guests and therefore your financial damage. But some of your guests just don't regard this "and guest" or lack thereof as important.

A friend of mine received an RSVP card from one of her invitees, who by the way did not get "and guest-ed", and he had actually hand-written six names in addition to his own the line where he was to fill in his name. SIX!

 
 

(Wonder if he ever got "and guested x 7" when he had all those girlfriends?)

He was a high school buddy, and he'd taken it upon himself to invite several of her old peers that she "must've forgotten." These six people were going to cost her several hundred dollars to add to her list (you know, for food and booze and all that other 'per head' stuff they charge you).

I personally think she should have called him and said "Sure, you can bring six people to my wedding. But at $___ amount a head, you can also bring a gift of equal value to that. Times six." 

 Don't be that guy.

An Ode to Reny

C:

Glendrovers Oh La La Reny

July 1998 - December 2008

'The Official Greeter'

It all started with a magazine article about a guy who had bought a beautiful home in the South of France, hired an extraordinary decorator to furnish it, and then bought a couple of dogs from a local breeder for company. I innocently bought the magazine for the beautiful picture of the guy's home on the cover,  how could I have ever known that this magazine would change my life forever, literally.

At the time, I was single and living in a high-rise apartment, my own little pied-a-tier, I thought. My only responsibilities were paying my rent on time, showing up at work on time, and making sure that I never missed an evening out with my girlfriends - life was grand. I was responsible only for myself and very happy. And, my parents were happy because when I called it was just to say hi, not because I needed anything (money).

I had heard it said (again with the 80's psycho-babble mythology) that when you are the happiest in life is when you will meet your mate. Most men (at least the emotionally stable ones) will actually be attracted to a happy, confident, independent women. I get the whole dark, moody and mysterious thing could be intriguing to a guy at first, but come on ladies - dark, moody, and mysterious never ends in happily-ever-after. That's not babble, that's the truth.

So, my mate and I decided to take the next three relationship steps all at once - find a house, move in together, and get a dog. He wanted a Jack Russell Terrier, and I wanted my little piece of the magazine article - the French dog. Indicative of how well my husband and I would resolve family issues in the future - we got the French dog.

I (I mean we) named the dog after one of my best friends - R.and called her Reny. My husband jokes that it was easier to buy our house than to buy the dog, and the 'for-sale-by- breeder' contract was almost as thick as our for-sale-by-owner house contract. Reny was flown to Houston via puppy cargo. Like any adoptive parents, all I had to go on was a month old well handled photo. After a lengthy phone interview (interrogation), the breeder had sent me several photos of the litter with notes attached that she thought might be helpful to me in choosing a puppy. The notes were thoughtful but completely unnecessary because I could tell at a glance which puppy was my one-and-only true love. I called the breeder immediately - I wanted the little girl that was always crawling out of the box in every picture. I could tell from the photos that she was curious, intelligent, funny and looked as though she was up for an adventure. Little did I know that I would pick the Briard version of myself.

It was at that precise moment of contentment, that my life took a turn. The oil and gas company that I worked for was closing it's Houston office and I was being laid off. Laid off is just a more politically correct way to say - let go or fired. After 11 years of working in the oil and gas industry, I suddenly didn't know if that was what I wanted to do anymore. My sweet husband (who has only ever worked for himself) assured me that it would be O.K. and I would figure it out.

So much about Indulge happened by accident, but the part about choosing 'something-to-do' in my life that I would 'look forward to' everyday was no accident - that was created. And, the part about getting to bring my dog with me to work everyday, that was also created. Briards are French Sheep Dogs, meaning, they are a working class dog. Briards are task oriented and happiest when they are busy (but, aren't we all?). Every morning for 10 1/2 years, Reny would gobble up her breakfast and then go stand next to the door to let me know that she was ready to go 'to work.'  On Sundays, the house's entire routine would change (meaning, I didn't take a shower) and for Reny that meant - it would be that boring day that we did nothing but sit around the house and do laundry.

Over the years, Indulge became associated as 'that store with that dog.' I would be out running errands and people would stop me and ask, "Aren't you that girl, with that store, with that dog!" I noticed people would bring their friends in to see the store, and remark, "My favorite thing here is the dog. Wait until you see the dog!" Mothers would bribe their children with one last errand, "I'll be quick. It's at that store with that dog you love!" Another funny thing that I noticed over the years was how many customers knew Reny's name, and then would turn to me and motion, "Miss, could you help me." Hmmm, it was obvious to all, Reny was the celebrity in the house.

Every time we hired a new girl or extra help for Christmas, the 'newbie' was told, "There are three things you need to know to work here: Her name is Reny. She is a Briard. And yes, she weighs a lot."

Reny's official job title was 'The Greeter.' And, she was one-hell-of-a-greeter. Reny slept by that front door for hours on end, forcing customers on teetering high heels to maneuver over her in their knee length pencil skirts (told you she was funny). One day Reny awoke from her slumber and bounded toward one of our customers. The other customer standing at the counter, paying for her 'pretties' exclaimed, "Oh my God, that dog has never even looked twice at me. How much do you have to spend in here to get that type of reaction!" I hoped she was joking. And speaking of teetering heels and pencil length skirts, Reny, after years of observation, somehow acquired a true sense of fashion. One summer day, a sweet lady dressed in blue bermuda shorts and a coordinating blue and white striped shirt opened the front door to Indulge. Reny jumped up and started barking at her. The casually dressed customer stood in horror, "Why is she barking at me? I've been here lots of times and she's never barked at me before?!" J., our sweet manager at the time, apologized and explained, while grabbing Reny's collar, "I'm so sorry. I don't know why she's barking at you. The only person she ever barks at is the mail lady." Damage control! The customer almost burst into tears, justifying "I knew I shouldn't have worn this outfit! The dog thinks I look postal!!! I'm going to go home and change before I go anywhere else. Wait until I tell my family, grrr."

Over the years, Reny did get to know the customers and they certainly grew to love her. And like I said, it was Reny's greatest joy and her job to come to Indulge everyday and greet the customers. At 10 1/2 years of age, Reny was diagnosed with a very rare form of cancer. Completely asymptomatic the doctors said. There were no external signs of cancer and Reny actually felt fine. But, she was going to die in 30 days. We got second, and third opinions, and all the doctors and teams of specialists that we saw all concurred - 30 days. I asked the specialist how I would know when it was time? He told us to write down Reny's 10 favorite things to do (a sort of doggie bucket list) and to call him when she stopped doing 8 of them.

I never told anyone that Reny was dying. My husband and I kept it to ourselves. I didn't want anyone to treat her any differently. I wanted everyone to be happy to see her each day and for Reny to think that today was going to be the best dog-day ever. We arranged for Reny to go home early from the store everyday under the guise that the store was too busy over the Christmas Holidays for her to be there all day.

And just as the doctors and all the specialists had predicted, Reny died on the 30th day. She had worked a half a day at the store, and died peacefully at home later that evening. As full of sorrow and despair as I was over my beloved friend dying, I also realized the gift of being told that I had those thirty days to share with Reny. Like a child's Christmas advent calendar, I got to surprise Reny everyday for 30 days with how much I loved her. How many times in life will you ever be given the opportunity to tell someone how much you love them for 30 days in a row?! Losing someone you love makes you realize how important it is to show the ones you love (2 legged or 4 legged) how much you love them, each and every day.

When my brother, who has a wife, two children, and a Briard, passed along his condolences at Reny's death, he naively commented that perhaps I was a little too attached to the dog. What my brother didn't realize was that unless I went out for dinner that night or was on a trip, I spent each and every moment of my life for 10 1/2 years with Reny, and we still loved each other. I would imagine that regardless how much my husband and I love each other, we would not survive such an intense time-spent relationship. Somehow, Reny and I never tired of each other's company. She was perhaps my better half - always sweet, patient, thoughtful, funny, happy to greet, and, as predicted, always up for an adventure.

I used to spend a certain amount of money each month on Reny's grooming and pet insurance. When she passed away, I contacted the local SPCA to set up a monthly donation in Reny's name. I wish that I could do more to help all the shelter dogs find loving homes, but, at this time, a financial donation is all I can manage. The SPCA is filled to the brink with pets that need loving homes. Perhaps, it's not the right time for you to adopt, but surely you could manage a small donation made in a loved one's (2 legged or 4 legged) name. And, wouldn't that feel like a small gift to yourself that you did something really special for someone (like a dog or cat). The donation could be your special secret that you keep to yourself (anonymous), or you could tell some friends, and all go in together and make a donation. Every dollar counts, so a group of dollars would count even more!

In Memory of Reny: The worst day I ever had was always made better by an understanding nod from her. Briard translation - Get over it and let's go play tennis ball!!! But, before we go, fix my hair clippie, a girl's gotta look good :}

P.S. The best thing about computers is that you can't see the tears on the pages.

P.S.S. Please don't say anything to me in the store about Reny dying because I will simply burst into tears.  PLEASE, just make a donation to a pet charity of your choice in the name of your loved one (2 legged or 4 legged) who is either alive or just a fond childhood memory.

And, P.S.S. - As you can imagine while I am writing this blog, tears are streaming down my face with sweet memories of my beloved dog and best friend, Reny. When unexpectedly my cat appears, meowing. I look down at her in disbelief, thinking - Is this kitty compassion? Does she truly understand my grief? I didn't think her dark, moody, and mysterious ways lent themselves to show compassion. She continued to mew and gestured toward me to follow her . . . . straight to her empty food bowl, with her tushi up in the air waiting, meowing to be fed, and for her tushi to be scratched. My cat's true love, obviously is not necessarily me per say, but her tushi being scratched while snacking out of an over filled bowl of dried kitty food. Grrr.

 

Animal friendly organizations in Houston that would need financial contributions:

HSPCA (Houston Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals) is  Houston's oldest and largest Animal Protection Organization and shelter.  This non-profit charity, funded primarily by donations, reaches out to more than 100,000 animals annually and is fully committed to their mission "to promote commitment to and respect for all animals and to free them from suffering, abuse and exploitation".  In addition to providing shelter and care to animals, the HSPCA also has an adoption program, an animal clinic, 24-hour animal rescue, and pet loss support groups- to name a few.  To get involved, call 713-869-SPCA (7722) or visit their website at www.houstonspca.org today! 

AniMeals on Wheels is a Houston program which delivers food for pets of seniors who receive Meals on Wheels.  The program began because seniors receiving Meals on Wheels were sharing their limited resources and, in some cases, their much needed home-delivered meal with their pet.  AniMeals on Wheels survives on donations and is delivered entirely by volunteers (including my friend Angeline who delivers every month.)   Please, help feed these companions by donating, both dog and cat (wet or dry) pet food.  For questions about the program, donation, or volunteer information please contact Denise Atkerson at 713-533-4922 or visit their website at www.imgh.org.

CAP (Citizens for Animal Protection) is a Houston-based non-profit organization that has been dedicated to the service and protection of local animals for almost forty years. CAP " provides shelter, adoption, foster care, rescue and other valuable services to animals in need in  the Houston area.  CAP also provides humane education and community outreach programs to encourage love and respect for all animals".  To learn more about CAP, or to get involved, call 281-497-0591 or visit their website at  www.cap4pets.org.

Heard the expression "herding cats"?  Let me tell you, it's no easier to herd herding dogs!

Five Herding Dogs, Two Inept Handlers

           

   

Fifteen minutes, and several phrases that we cannot print, later...

 

I'd like to introduce Reny's Houston Family:

Collette (niece), Raphael (son), Olivier (betrothed), Ricochet (naughty daughter), and Spotswood a.k.a. Spotsy (daughter).

Tipping Is Not A City In China

Indulge

And the countdown begins: two weeks to go until Christmas (gulp).  At this point, all anyone has on the brain is SHOPPING. Hostess gifts for the friends of yours throwing Holiday parties, something to take to that White Elephant Exchange at work, something for your kids, your husband, your mother, etc.

But this year, when you're out and about shopping for Holiday gifts for your friends and loved ones, don't forget about passing on that Holiday spirit and generosity on to those people who help you throughout the rest of the year. You know, the ones who deliver your mail and/or deliver your dry cleaning, manicure your nails and/or manicure your lawn, clean your pool and/or clean your house. Even if you're on a budget this year, don't forget that the definition of thrift is economizing at your own expense - so just because you have to be more careful on what you spend for you, doesn't mean you skimp on or skip tipping the people that make your life run more smoothly through the year around the holidays.

 

So who should you tip? And how much do you tip them?

 

First, you should give a holiday tip to people who provide you service frequently and regularly on a daily or weekly basis. Emily Post asserts that between $10-30 is appropriate. This includes:

- postal workers, UPS and FedEx

- Other regular delivery people who bring your laundry, take-out, etc.

- trash collectors

 

 

 

Second, it's nice to tip those people who serve you perhaps less frequently but who you see for longer periods. For these people, it is customary to tip the equivalent of one visit/job:

- Hairstylists

- Manicurists, Facialists, and Massage Therapists

- Personal Trainers 

- Regular Babysitters

- Lawn-care crews, Pool Cleaners

- Pet Grooming Technicians

 

 
 

Third, people who work for you. Emily Post agrees that anyone you employ more than a couple of days a week should get a check typically equivalent to about one week's pay. This includes:

- Nannies

- Housekeepers

- Permanent Caretakers and Home-Care Attendants

 

 

Fourth, tipping people who can be strategically tipped (or should I say strategically bribed). If we must think of ourselves and do something somewhat selfish during the holidays, these kinds of gratuities can make a real difference in your own quality of life. Here, the range of what's appropriate varies greatly:

- Doormen and concierges

- The bartender, wait staff, or maitre d' at your favorite and much-frequented restaurant (see if your table location doesn't improve!)

- Country Club staff (don't be fooled by that idea of a "Secret Holiday Jar" - there are no secrets when it comes to who donated to the fund and who didn't)

 

 

 

Finally, there may be others in your life that make things run more smoothly. Don't forget anybody else that serves you throughout the better part of the year. Think about who helps you, and who you can help (here comes the strategic part) help you later. These people can include:

- Carwash Attendants (my grandfather washes his car atleast once a week - not only are these people his friends, but he notices that they handwash and wipedown his car quickly and efficiently, even when they're busy)

- Dog Walkers 

- Baristas (Go to Starbucks every morning? Have someone there that says "Goodmorning so-and-so, will it be the regular this morning?" Here's a tip: tip them!) My roommate M. and I love ours so much - we get out of bed in the morning as much for the coffee as we do for an early morning conversation with him. He makes our day even before we get to work!

 

 

Here we are with our friends at the Starbucks on the North side of West Gray (there are three on that same corner; it's the Drive-thru!). 

 

Now, that being said, there are in fact other options besides handing over wads of cash if you're really in a spending hiatus this Holiday Season. Emily Post says that if you really can't afford to tip some of the many people who care for you (say, for instance, you felt so generous towards your mail carrier and manicurist that you forgot about your child's busdriver), a small gift with a handwritten note will do. I know people who have baked cookies or roasted nuts and put them in cute gift bags along with a note to hand out to people they might usually tip. A kind, thoughtful handwritten note is key. See, it really is the thought that counts!

 

 

 

 

When generously and graciously tipping the people who make your life run more smoothly from January to December this Holiday Season, just remember the idea of tipping kharma. Be guided by the spirit of gift-giving and generosity! The better you take care of the people who care for you, the better off everybody will be.

 

  

The Little White Lie

C:

At some point in your childhood, you get it. Santa and his magical reindeer don't exactly deliver toys to every child on earth in a single evening. Likewise, for that tale of a silly over sized rabbit that hops all over creation (again, in a single evening) hiding Easter Eggs in believer's backyards (inside the house, if it's raining), and yet somehow manages to leave behind those delicious Reese's Chocolate Peanut Butter Eggs. You know the ones that are grocery store bought, and only sold at Easter time, and just happen to be your Mother's favorite.  But, as a young child, you are completely understanding, and forgiving of your parents for their very tiny in-fracture of the truth because, of course, they were protecting you, and they love you, and there were lots of toys. And, as a child why would you ever question a little-white-lie that ended in toys, candy, an extra day off from school and much, much more.

In fact, instead of an apology from your parents for the little-white-lie that they've perpetuated throughout your childhood, you receive a stern warning - "Do not tell your little sister. She still believes." So overnight, the older sibling goes from a 'believer' to an 'insider' expected to further along the family's little-white-lie. All so harmless, right? Childhood lesson learned - It's O.K. to tell a little-white-lie if the end result is toys and candy!

As you get a little older, you begin to learn that there are many different types of little-white-lies and many different types of situations (that are parent sanctioned) in which it is O.K. to fabricate a simple, harmless, everybody-does-it little-white-lie.

That time your mom was running late again for your big brother's soccer match, and your mother turns to you with one of her infamous side-eye-looks and warns, "When the nice policeman walks up to the car, you don't say a word." Somehow, you remain remarkably silent as she desperately tries to back peddle herself out of getting yet another speeding ticket. And, again at dinner, you overhear your mother spin the incident in a similar, but, again, just a little different version than the one you recalled from your prime backseat location. Childhood lesson learned - It's O.K. to tell a little-white-lie so already exorbitant insurance premiums do not go up. Hmmm.

As a teenager all you really want to do is - go, go, go. And, all your parents say is - no, no, no. When you ask your mother why she is being so completely unreasonable and hence ruining your social life for good, she flatly responds, "Because it's a school night and you have a math test tomorrow." But as a teenager, you don't back down there, you just keep pushing and pushing. So, what if there's a math test tomorrow, there's a math test every week. You leave your mother with no choice, she is forced to pull out the big guns - "Because your father said so!!!" Again with the little-white-lies. Your father has been playing golf all day and never answers his phone when he's on the golf course. How could he even know about the midnight showing of to-die-for scary movie? And the subsequent terrible fallout of not going to 'said' scary movie with overly-popular kids will have on your social life, forever?! Childhood lesson learned - It's O.K. for mother to tell little-white-lie to ruin your social life, and for good math grades in school.

But, when do we learn to stop telling those little-white-lies?

The dog ate my homework. 

What test, oh yeah sure, I studied for that test?

The check is in the mail. 

It was like that when I got here.

I would never drink the last of the orange juice and put the empty carton back in the fridge. I don't even drink orange juice.

I'm so sorry that I'm late, the traffic is horrible out there.

Was I speeding? I'm so sorry, officer. I have a sick child at home.

I was working late, hiccup.

I can't come to work today, I'm not feeling well. I might be contagious.

At what point does the harmless little-white-lie, begin to feel not so harmless.

My dear friend Stretch and her husband are the best dinner-party-givers I know. To be invited to their house for dinner is a worthy expectation among my friends. The attention to detail that she and her husband share in cooking and serving the food is unprecedented to most. Recently, Stretch confided that she had invited some 'work friends' for dinner and this girl and her husband had bailed on the dinner party at the last minute. Anybody who has given a dinner party recently can surely understand the effort a 'true hostess' makes - her house is cleaned, flowers arranged, groceries purchased from minimum of two stores, excellent wines selected from yet another store, dinner table set, appetizer, main course, and dessert prepared.  To me, it is an absolute joy and honor to be invited to someone's home for dinner. Anyone can make reservations, not everyone can make my favorite Osso Buco, or Seafood Paella with lobster tails, or chocolate ganache birthday cake with store's tweety-bird stationary package logo decorations.

Of course, my dear friend Stretch is a very understanding person and told the guest on the other end of the phone not to feel badly, of course she understood, and they will have to do it again, soon. Later that week, Stretch ran into 'said' absentee dinner guest in the corridor at work and, out of concern,(because, she is thoughtful) asked how 'said' dinner-invitation-excuse was feeling. Stretch was met with a blank stare and a "Huh?" My dear friend Stretch did not need to utilize her MBA from Rice skills to deduce that 'said' dinner guest had no idea what she was talking about.

How could it possibly be worth it to tell a little-white- lie to get out of a simple dinner party amongst friends or co-workers? What has happened to the truth? Do people honestly think that they are so important that a lie from them is better than the truth from everyone else? With the holiday season upon you, and invitations and parties filling the days of your crack-berry, please remember a little-white-lie can easily turn into a giant white elephant. You would certainly hate to be that present, I mean person, that nobody wants to leave the party with. Every hostess accepts the truth of an R.S.V.P. - No, in good faith. But, be warned - most hostesses will not only pick up on, but also pass on the tale of the little-white-lie,"Can you believe she made up such a silly story to get out of going to our party!!! Why didn't she just say No to begin with, I wouldn't care."

Indulge R.S.V.P. Tip:

R.S.V.P to all invitations as quickly as possible. (Do not wait so long that the Hostess is forced to call you. That is the kind of outcome that typically leads to those little-white-lies we are trying to avoid using.) A simple yes or no will do. It is usually the No's followed by a lengthy, stammering explanation that piques the Hostesses little-white-lie radar. Yes, thank you, or No, thank you. Just picture the simple enclosure card sent with most every Crane's wedding invitation - Will attend.  Will not attend. It really can be that simple and unfussy.

Note: Once you have accepted an invitation - that is a social binding commitment. No 'better dealing' when next more 'fun-er' invitation arrives. You can go to more than one party in an evening, but you can't 'up-grade.' Little-white-lie will certainly result and you will be caught!

Indulge Bread and Butter Gift Tip:

Bring a 'little something' to the party for the Hostess. In 'Old-School' terms, it is considered proper etiquette to arrive at a party with a Bread-and-Butter gift for the Hostess. But at Christmas, the gift (gesture) can easily be a combined effort - 'Bread-and-Butter / Christmas  Present.

Here Are Some Fun Gift Ideas:

Something fun for the family - Potting Shed Creations

           
(Available at Saint St. location)

Something yummy for the family - French Gourmet Bakery - Iced Ginger Cookies.

(You might as well pick up a box for yourself!)

For the Holiday Hostess- Christmas Guest Towels

Something for the 'Inner-Decorator-Friend-Hostess' - Beautiful bouquet of Vintage Fortuny Fabric Flowers by B. Viz

Don't forget that your parents probably have better etiquette manners than you. Sometimes, it is best to follow their leads. My Father with his 'Old-School Manners' always jots a quick thank-you-for a lovely-evening note before he goes to bed while all the delicious details of the party are at the top of his thoughts. (I guess in today's time that could also include an email or text.) I read long ago that Princess Diana wrote her thank-you-for-a-lovely-evening notes before she went to bed that night. And, who could have possibly had more lovely evenings than a Princess. You just know she didn't have any little-white-lies hidden up the sleeve of her ballgown considering every move The Princess made was photographed a hundred times over. This holiday season, let your inner-princess-etiquette shine through and be the thoughtful guest, with the thoughtful manners, who is always invited back.

Party Stresses and Dresses

A:

Predicament: I’ve been invited to several black tie events in the coming weeks that I have to find dresses for.  I’m not tooting my own horn, so to speak , complaining about how popular I am this season and how busy I’ll be every weekend - but because I have been invited to such events, I have had nothing but party dresses on the brain. Now, for somebody who keeps every issue of Vogue magazine from the last ten years atop the shelves in her closet (they’d go back further than that, but I only started subscribing when I was 13), this predicament is a fun one. Since as a recent college graduate I obviously have a budget that prevents me from buying a half dozen or so couture dresses - one for each event - I’ve had to be creative. Work with what I’ve got. You know, add glamorous costume jewelry, have alterations done, update with tights and trendy shoes, etc. 

What can be fun about dressing for a black tie event in this day and age is that it doesn't have to mean gown. With the right accessories and hair and makeup, girls like me can take the right above-the-knee dress from cocktail to black tie. Most of the events I'll be attending in December are short-cocktail-dress-appropriate. But I have a very formal event in early January that requires me to wear a long formal gown. Here's where my creativity comes in...

For this event, I tried on what felt like a thousand and one dresses, to no avail. I'm on a budget, sure. I'm picky, yes. But the real problem is finding a floor-length gown when you're almost 6 feet tall. People always tell me that models are tall like I am, and that clothes are made for models. Where are these clothes, I ask you? Whether it's department store or couture, I challenge you to find a dress that would touch the floor on me. It's impossible! They must hem the dresses for normal-sized people before they send them out to retailers. So what to do?

I decided the best thing for me to do, as I had a dress in mind that I knew I'd love to wear, was have something made. I asked around and found out the names of some of Houston's best and most-suggested seamstresses and alterations places. I went to a few different ones, with several pictures, snips of fabric swatches, and drawings in tow, to get an idea on what it might cost to make my dream dress. Turns out, the woman who made Cynthia's wedding dress (you may remember these pictures of it) was the one. She quoted me the best price, and she was very obviously the person who best saw my vision and who seemed they could best create it.

 Her name is Maryam, and she's at Ultra Alterations (3209 Westheimer, between Bammel and Sackett). And she's my new best friend.

These are the three pictures I brought with me for our consultation:

   
 
The first (Cameron Diaz at the 2003 Golden Globes in Prada) for style, the second (Natalie Portman in Rodarte at 2009 Oscars) for the detailing on the bodice and the fit of the skirt, and the third (Angelina Jolie in a custom St. John at the 2009 Oscars) for color, fabric, and texture. 

I have my first fitting in the next few days - I'll keep you posted!

Being creative with my own wardrobe hasn’t stopped me from dreaming about some of my favorite party dresses from over the years. Here, I’ve compiled a list of my personal top ten favorite party dresses of all time. Some are simply iconic, some may be only iconic in my mind.

 

10. Olivia Newton-John in White in Grease

Grease was my favorite movie as a kid. I used to watch it - no joke - every day after school in the 3^rd grade. I’d love to wear this dress to a party where there’d be dancing! I love the way it moves. Plus, that shape is universally flattering.

 

9. Reese Witherspoon in Nina Ricci at the 2007 Golden Globes

I didn’t intend to have two yellow dresses (spoiler alert!) on the list, but I couldn’t leave this one off. I need this dress in my closet. Love it with the unexpected red shoe and "undone" hair.

8. Jennifer Aniston in Prada at the 2000 Emmy Awards

No more Brad, so sad. But I love this simple red dress and simple swept up hair; even though it's Prada it's such a Calvin Klein look to me.  The dress even looks like it could be a silk jersey which is not only chic but comfortable too.

7. Audrey Hepburn in Givenchy in Breakfast at Tiffany’s

 

Need I say more?

 

6. Julia Roberts in Polka Dot Dress at Polo Match in Pretty Woman

Who doesn’t love to see her transition from the hooker boots and micro mini to this chic ensemble? And I think everyone needs a cute polka dotted shift in their closet - always and forever fashionable.

5. Jackie Kennedy in her own design at the 1960 Presidential Inaugural Ball

Even almost 50 years later, I think most women would love to wear this dress. Incredibly, she designed it herself and had someone at Bergdorf's in New York make it for her. I wish people still wore gowns and gloves like this - maybe I should have been born in the 60s!

4. Cameron Diaz in Chanel at the 2003 Golden Globes

As a 23 year-old who loves showing off her gams in minidresses, this is perhaps only memorable to me. Love Cameron Diaz’s style. And I love that she took such a risk by going so short at the Golden Globes - it was certainly a first.

 

3. Kate Hudson in Versace at 2003 Academy Awards

She’s undoubtedly one of Hollywood’s best dressed. Love her boho-hippie L.A. street style and she always pulls out all the stops on the red carpet. This dress is such a classic. The deep plunge looks so pretty on her small chest (I can relate, ahem).

2. Sienna Miller in Balenciaga at the Premiere of Factory Girl in 2006

I may be one of the only ones that even remembers this look, but I love this dress. It was created based on the archived sketches of Cristobal Balenciaga, so I think that warrants being called "iconic." Of all the dresses on the list, this is one I can see my wearing to one of my parties this month. Even though Sienna wore this in 2006, it’s very "now" - she might have even started the tights craze, I don’t know. I can forget about all that dating-married-fathers-of-four thing when I see her on the red carpet - I think she’s one of the best dressed in Hollywood. I could have filled a list with just things she wore!

1. Michelle Williams in Vera Wang at 2006 Academy Awards

This dress took Michelle Williams from Dawson’s Creek to viable actress. I, like most Americans, never noticed her before she wore this mustard-hued Vera Wang to the Oscars, when she was nominated for her role in Brokeback Mountain, three years ago. I love the red lipstick and the side-swept hair. Talk about a memorable look and a memorable role. This color looks great on blondes, who knew? I would love to wear this color to a party (maybe not someone's wedding!).

 

Obviously, with all of these looks, it's not just about the dress. It's about looking polished, poised, and red-carpet-ready. You need fabulous hair, beautiful make-up, and glowing skin. The same goes for a black tie event or party that doesn't involve celebrity guests.

Party Tip: For glowing skin, I use Vrai Sugar Scrub and Body Cream before a night out. I use the sugar scrub on my arms and legs to exfoliate and moisturize, then follow with the body cream to make them shiny and soft and to smell amazing. A must if you're wearing a short dress that shows leg.

After-Party Tip: Partying into the wee hours of the night makes for an exhausting morning-after. I like to lay around sipping my coffee with an Elizabeth W. eye pillow over my eyes. You can even stick them in the fridge or freezer for a few minutes first - great for eliminating bags under the eyes. (Available at both our Saint St. and R.O. Blvd locations.) 

For all you Holly Golightly party girl sleep-till-nooners, I also love the Elizabeth W. silk eye masks. Perfect for keeping out the light until you're ready to reintroduce yourself into the world. I use them on long flights, too! (Also available at both Indulge and Indulge Linens)

Carriage Wit

C:

It's easy to be clever in an email or even on an overly rehearsed message that you are leaving on the answering machine of someone who you are displeased with. But, it's quite another thing to be Johnny-On-The-Spot clever, anxiously standing in a room full of people who you only sorta know or, actually, don't really wish to know better. I use to think that I was really bad at names until someone (a self-help guru) pointed out to me at one of those Improve-Yourself-in-Just-72-Short-Hours retreats that I could quote every stupid line out of every stupid 80's movie. He wondered in amazement how my 'Rain Man' movie memory applied only to bad movie lines and not to names of people that I had met just a short time ago on the retreat. Which in 80's psycho-babble is translated to - 'I do not know your name because I do not care enough about you to remember your name.' Ouch, that was a bit scarring. I even had to wear a name tag that said just that for the majority of the (stupid) retreat. Which, I can't even remember the name of the retreat, ha.

So, as you can imagine, with my selective name memory setting, I have trouble in large groups. I panic that I can't remember anyone's name. And, of course, all I can think about is that stupid retreat where they made me wear that stupid name tag the whole weekend - Hi, I'm Cynthia and I don't care enough about you to remember your name. Ouch. Whatever happened to my grade school diagnosis - Smart enough, just doesn't pay close attention. That just sounds so much more pleasant and understanding.

Along with the Christmas Season, comes the usual array of Christmas invitations. In the nice and proper Victorian days, invitations were hand delivered and addressed with the guest's first, middle, and last name. Guests were not invited to your home if you were not properly acquainted with them. Parties were intimate and usually included a seated dinner with place cards. Hostesses were concerned about securing charming dinner guests who would provide lively dinner conversation for the table and possibly a good hand of cards after dinner.

Now a days, invitations are mailed by post, emailed, phoned, left on answering machines, posted on facebook, text-ed, or twittered. My feeling is that parties are becoming less personal and just more persons.

As a young girl, I remember going to the same Christmas parties year after year, filled with good friends and family.  But now, somehow, you get the feeling that Christmas Parties have been expanded to 'Reciprocity Parties.'  Let's just invite everyone who has invited us to a party this year, plus the sweet neighbors down the street who picked up our mail, plus the committee lady who dropped off my donation packets, plus that guy at work who covered for me when I went out of town, plus the soccer carpool mom who traded drink days, plus................. The term - 'more-the-merrier' comes to mind.

But, sometimes, more is just that - simply more.  Remember the 20/80 rule? Don't you think the 20/80 rule applies to Christmas parties also? The reality is - at any given Christmas Party you probably only want to talk to about 20% of the guests. And, you will probably talk to those 20% of the guests for at least 80% of the time that you are at the party. You could make the effort with the other 80% of the guests, but that would mean names, phone numbers, broken promises to call and get together soon ......

Or, you could simply say to yourself that you don't want to overload your 32GB of memory on your new iPhone with more names and more phone numbers.  But, the truth is - you just aren't that interested in them as potential friends. You worry that if you added a new friend at this point in your life then you might need to retire an old friend (Similar premise used in flip your closet - out with old / in with the new.) And, you really like the friends that you have. You've worked a long time on perfecting the friendship, and you just aren't up to breaking in a new pair of jeans, I mean friend.

Don't you wonder sometimes how you can be such good friends with someone, talk to them every week or so, and go to their house for a Christmas Party, look around the room and think, 'My God, who are all these people? and 'How are my good friends friends with all of these people, yichk?' I'm exhausted just looking around the room. There are just too many people at the party to know!

Every party has a social compass - the Hostess, with her magnetic personality, points due North.. And, her guests point due East, due West, and due South. As you know, on every working compass - East, West, and South do not overlap. They are directional opposites. So, it just goes to say that if the Hostess isn't careful, and she pulls from too many different social aspects of her life, her guests might not overlap at all.

 

If that's the case, the Hostess will quickly turn into the Hostess-with-the-Mostess. Mostess being - the person with the most people following her around the party trying desperately to engage in conversation. Sounds exhausting. Sounds suffocating. And, if she is so busy entertaining all the acquaintances, who is monitoring the friends?

 Don't forget about the guests whose compasses point due South. At every party, there is always that guy - the tiresome, obnoxious, drunk jerk that the Hostess' husband's-friend's-friend brought and who is now hanging all over your best friend's-friend. You know, the guy that never comes up for air - he just keeps talking, and talking, and talking. At first the stories are funny and slightly entertaining, but after about an hour the monologue begins to repeat itself, and you realize that the story about the poor dead animal that he shot just hit rewind. And the more he drinks, and the more he shares his life's stories, the more you realize that perhaps his moral compass points due South for a reason.

The whole while that Due South is pontificating, you are beginning to feel all kinds of sorry for your girlfriend's-friend, and, irritated, because Due South is monopolizing the entire conversation and evening. And you have had no opportunity to gossip with your girlfriends.

Really, what was she thinking when she put that dress on? Cleavage is not Christmas!

Oh, is Due South ever going to stop talking? He's so obnoxious. Why doesn't Miss. Cleavage just walk away.

I can't stand it any more, I have to walk away. OMG!  I can't believe Mrs. X came with her ex, Mr. X.! H-e-l-l-o, can you spell - codependent?!

Did Mrs. Y get lip injections or Botox, something is different? She didn't look that good last week, hmm.

How can Mrs. Z walk in those shoes? If the shoes are that high, should her hemline be that high, too? And, she's my age, hmm?!  At least her knees look good. Wouldn't Demi Moore be jealous.

In the car, on the way home, the husband innocently remarks, "Wasn't that a great party? What a great group of people! I really liked that guy, who was friends with that other guy, who knew the husband of your friend who threw the party. I meant to get his number. We should do something with him sometime, I think he liked your friend - you know, the one in that dress. Why don't you arrange it? You like that sorta thing, setting people up. Don't you think we should have a Christmas party next year, there's a bunch of people we owe. Why is it that no matter how sweet the husband is, and how much he stays on course, he will always be drawn to Mr. Due South at a party. Ugghhh.

Of course, I am barely listening to my Christmas Party loving husband because all I can think about is Mr. Due South and how awful he is. And what I wish that I had said to him when he was going on and on about how great he did last year business-wise while the rest of us (and the country) was shoveling coal. He bought oil when it dropped and then sold when it jumped back up, or something, or other. He won't have to work for the next ten years. And, how much money he had to pay in taxes to the IRS this year. Maybe he should buy an island in the Bahamas or something. Isn't Nic Cage selling one of his islands? Whatever!!!

In the Victorian Days, dinner guests would have had a long carriage ride home after the party. Charming guests would have exchanged witty comments while reviewing the night's events, hence the term - Carriage Wit. 

Today we jump into our S.U.V.'s and head on home. The mode of transportation has changed significantly, but one thing remains the same - Don't you always think of the perfect rebuttal in the car on your way home?! Never at the time that you need the rebuttal, but always much later on the way home - in the car! So, I'm thinking the next time I'm short an excellent rebuttal at a party, I'm going to go get the keys from the valet, and go sit in my car, and patiently wait for my excellent rebuttal. (And, oh, I might take a little liquid courage with me, perhaps a glass of wine with a hint of humor and sarcasm.)

I Still Believe In . . .

C:

"I still believe in Santa, the Easter Bunny, the Tooth Fairy, and true love. Don't try to tell me different."- as quoted by signer, songwriter, eternal optimist, and Southern Charmer - Dolly Parton.

 

Why is it that children (and Dolly) can believe so completely?  Children do not question talking snowmen, flying reindeer, bulbous men in funny red suits, 6 ft. tall bunnies that walk upright, 

or giant fairies that reach under your pillow while you are sleeping at night dispensing coins and candy to further rot your teeth.

Like your mother would really let a fairy fly around the house in the middle of the night! And, don't get me started on true love! I never understood why one of those sneaky little elves didn't slip in there and kiss Sleeping Beauty first.  And, how Cinderella didn't end up going home with one of the rats pulling the coach after the clock struck midnight? You know - the worse the rat, the prettier the girl, right? And, don't even get me started on those frogs. Hello? Billions of frogs kissed, only one prince on record, ever!

 

But, no matter how far-fetched the stories go, we are all told as children that it is O.K. to believe. And, as children we want to believe, especially, if there is a toy or trinket at the end of the belief.  I think that the believing part is the key component to any great tale.  Believing is filled with hope and expectation, and again, maybe a toy or trinket.

Twenty years ago, I went to New York to celebrate Easter and ended up spending my long weekend doing a completely different kind of hopping - club hopping (Yes, it was clubs not bars, it was the 80's.) After several late nights of hopping around town, my girlfriend and I were quickly becoming guests non gratas at my newly responsible and newly married brother's house. Trying to regain some type of composure and decorum over what many Christians believe to be the second most important religious holiday in the Christian Church, my brother woke our sorry asses up and dragged us off to a very early morning Easter Church service. As many of you know or might remember clothes worn to hop around the bunny trails all night are not and should not be worn daytime. I still remember sitting in that church in some completely inappropriate 80's hopping outfit, my wrists completely covered in club tattoos (proving to all, how many bunny holes I  had been down the previous night) and feeling completely hopped out. I'm staring at my watch, listening to the priest drone on and on about something or other, when suddenly he said something that made me stop thinking about myself for just a minute and start listening to him. "The key to happiness is - something to do, something to look forward to, and someone to love." 3 simple things. To a twenty-something year old who only lived in the moment and somehow still managed to actually do nothing - that sounded really profound. I didn't know they had profound in the Catholic Church back in the 80's. It has been over twenty years since that early morning Easter service but I still think about what the priest said all the time, "The key to happiness is - something to do, something to look forward to, and someone to love."

So, let's say that philosophy could actually apply to the every day parts of our lives. That would mean that every day we should wake up with something to do, something to look forward to, and someone to love.  And, isn't Christmas one of those times a year that we actually take time out of our already jam-packed-to-the-edge-of-insanity lives to write a note in a greeting card, bake some cookies for a neighbor, or buy a gift for a special friend or someone we love. And by love - I mean someone we like to do things with, or someone we look forward to seeing, or someone we love, actually.

Every year I'm blown away at how many people take the time out of their lives to come to my store and buy someone special in their lives a Christmas present. The thoughtfulness and the generosity with which these gifts are chosen would brighten even the most hardened Grinches. Because, I'll tell you - the parking at my store is horrible at Christmas time, and it would be a whole lot easier to just order something ubiquitous from Amazon.com and be done with it.

Which brings me to a really valid point - presents are gifts. The 'said' gift was selected for you by someone who thought enough about you to personally pick out something special for you. Do not return it. Do not double up to get something twice as good. Do not return it only to buy an obligatory gift for someone else. Keep the gift. Because, that's what it is - a gift. A token of someone's thoughtfulness. And, if you think your friends don't notice that you return everything, then you must still believe in the Tooth Fairy. Of course they know, that's the first thing they say to us - 'I don't know what to get her, she returns everything.' Don't be a 'returner.' Be a thoughtful friend and enjoy the gift that was selected for you because I think the act of selecting the gift is actually part of the gift itself.

I know that with the Holiday Season upon us - I have a lot to do, and I'm really looking forward to it all - the gifts to buy, the parties to go to, my crazy busy stores. It's all big fun! (Something to Do.)

I just bought my 9 year old nephew the perfect Christmas present. He's going to squeal when he sees it because his parents told him that they wouldn't buy it for him because he was still too young. I interpreted that as - they didn't actually say NO. I can't wait to give him the present! And NO, it's not a Red Ranger BB Gun. His eyes are not at risk. (Something To Look Forward To.)

And as for true love, why do we fancy that true love only comes in the image of Prince Charming riding a glorious steed who will rescue fair maiden (you and me) from danger (or boredom)?

 

What if true love actually comes in very unexpected shapes and sizes? I believe my life is full of true loves - my job, my dogs, my family, my friends, my sweetie husband, and my new, early Christmas, or was it late birthday, gift to myself - my oh-so-soft cashmere-y robe and nightgown. I can't think of anything I would love more for The Holidays than to be home with my husband, my dogs, and my new cashmere-y robe and nightgown. That would be my definition of true love. And, since my kitty is sound asleep next to me as I write this, (Did I mention that I'm wearing my cashmere-y robe and nightgown at this moment?) I would like to state that I wish to include her in my 'True Love' moment even though she swatted at me this morning when I tried to pick her up and give her a kiss. (I wonder if she's afraid of 6 ft. tall bunnies that just happen to stand erect?) Perhaps true love from my kitty is a bit much to hope for (believe in). I think that maybe the two of us are on more of a mutual respect level - meaning she has claws and uses them, and I respect the length of her claws.(Someone to love.)

So, whether it's Santa, the Easter Bunny, the Tooth Fairy, or true love that you believe in, the important thing is that you believe. Believe in somebody, or something, or even just believe in yourself. I'm going to believe that Santa is going to buy me a pretty trinket this year for Christmas because even if he forgets, I have Santa's Amex number, tee hee. And, Santa should remember it's always worse if he forgets - believe me!

 

 

I'm No Martha Stewart

C:

I feel like this is a good place to stop and explain myself a little. I feel as though many of you either have or are creating a false impression of me. The other day a lovely customer (and, one of my favorites) commented in frustration to me, "I just don't have it together this year - something is just off. I read your blog and I shop at your store - How do you do it? How do you do everything so perfectly, and, the worst part is - You make it look so easy?" So, let's just nip that kind of silly projection in the bud (or is it butt?) The definition of projection is attributing your own repressed thoughts to someone else. For those of you who don't understand 80's psychobabble that means basically you think that everybody else's life is a bowl of cherries.

Yes, I do have a lot going on. The two stores are very busy this time of year but as we like to say down here in Texas - 'It's not my first rodeo.' This year will be my eleventh Christmas at Indulge. How do I do it? How do I keep it all together? How do I make it all look so easy? Well, you know at the end of the kid's books when the wise old guy tells the likable main character "You always held the answer within." (Or, some baloney like that.) Well, you do hold the answer within, and it's actually something you can do yourself. The answer is make a list.

MAKE A LIST.

Every single morning when I wake up, I sit down with my coffee, a pen and paper, and I make a list for that day. And by list, I mean my Top 10. What are the ten most important things I must do that day? I make the list by priority and then again by what could be easily accomplished in groupings together - Don't be a starfish running all over town, spinning your wheels. Group your errands together. For example, if we are low on wrapping supplies for the store, then we will plan on going to the bank, post office, and pick up wrapping supplies all at the same time, and hopefully grab lunch. Five errands, one excursion - thirty minutes.

You have all heard the expression 'Live by the sword, Die by the sword.' Well, that is how seriously I take my list. 'Live by the list, Die by the list.' My list is portable. I make my list at home and then I immediately put it in my purse. It goes with me to the store and sits next to my keyboard in plain view for the duration of the day. The reason I like to write my list on paper is the sheer satisfaction of crossing items off the list as they are completed. I love the look of a crossed out list.

DELEGATE.

When the girls walk in, I read off the list and we see which items can be divvy-ed up. The girls love to be asked to help and they like to stay busy - it helps the day go faster.

ASK FOR HELP.

Now, all that sounds great, right? Really helpful tips - Make the List, Delegate, and Ask for Help. 3 simple things. But, perspective is important too. Focus on the big important stuff, don't sweat the small stuff. Focus on what you did accomplish that day not what you didn't.  At the end of the day be pleased with your effort and start the next day's list. Anything that wasn't accomplished moves to the top of the next day's list.

What about the small stuff? Well, that's where my cracks start to show. I can get all the big stuff right, but I just lose it on the small stuff. For instance - one thing out of the ordinary occurs in the morning and I forget to put on deodorant. I don't know why it's the deodorant but it's always the deodorant. So, I keep an extra mini travel size in my purse and another at the store. There's an 'ole saying - 'Horses sweat, men perspire, and ladies glow.' Well, I've got to tell you, down here in Texas during the summer when the heat index is around 100, I fall more under the barnyard animal classification. That's a small thing that can turn into a big embarrassing thing by the end of the day.

So, the holiday season is upon us. You are starting to feel overwhelmed.  Why? What is it that has you so overwhelmed? Write it down. Start your list. Maybe break the lists down by categories. Let's start with Thanksgiving. That's at the top of my personal list right now.

  

THANKSGIVING HOSTESS LIST:

 To Do List - House Chores:

Go through each room and check to see if you need to replace light bulbs. Then, do the same outside. Husbands are very good at this type of chore. Thank him when he has finished and be sure to tell him what a big help he was, wink wink. You couldn't have done it without him sort of thing.

Does anything embarrass you? For instance, your guests will be sitting on the same couch your teenage son and husband lie on every Sunday to watch endless hours of sports. This would be a good time to notice if you smell feet. Walk into the room and breathe deep. Chances are either your couch and/or throws smell like feet. This would be a good opportunity to wash the throws. 

Stinky Feet!
 

For me, it's not so much the feet as it's my dog Ricochet likes to treat my slipcovers as her own personal napkin and wipe her mouth/doggy beard down the sides of my couch after every meal. Each one of my sofas seem to have a doggy wainscoting down the back. When I ordered my couches from Quatrine, I ordered two sets of slipcovers - a spring/summer ecru cotton and a fall/winter flax linen. This would be a good time to change/wash those slipcovers or at least check your cushion covers for stains.

Ecru Cotton Slipcovers.

Flax Linen Slipcovers.

To Do List - Guest List:

I have what I call an 'Orphan Thanksgiving.' Many of my friends have moved here from out-of-state and it's too much to go home for Thanksgiving and Christmas. So I make sure that I ask my girlfriends who are not from around here if they have plans for the Thanksgiving Holiday. This simple act of kindness has turned into The Greatest Holiday Advice That I Could Possibly Give a Thanksgiving Hostess -  Invite a Friend. Whatever family dynamics you fear around the holiday will certainly be minimized by friends on hand. My Father who is very comfortable talking about the health of his prostate within family gatherings restrains from this topic in front of my girlfriends and sticks more to the weather and current events.

 To Do List - Menu:

I have served basically the same Thanksgiving Dinner Menu for the past twenty years. This topic is not open for discussion. There will not be any deviation from 'said' tried-and-true menu. Unlike Martha Stewart, who makes it all look so easy with a staff of lord knows how many, I actually have to do all this myself with only the help of my husband and my sweet girlfriends who are eager to roll their sleeves up, add a little extra deodorant, and stand over a hot stove and sweat a bit. Ask for Help - My husband is a great help with the grocery shopping and the Spec's Liquor Store run.

After 20 years of cooking Thanksgiving Dinner together, everyone knows their responsibilities. We are like some kind of cooking-poetry-in-motion phenomenon. The chief-chef participants are: I., A.D., A.H., and C. - we are Team Thanksgiving. (Delegate.) Each of the guests who are chefs or is it chefs who are guests are responsible for certain dishes. I love the idea of too many cooks in the kitchen, that's what makes it fun to me.

Herb Roasted Turkey - I. - Hen ordered from Whole Foods the week before. 

Fresh Cranberry Sauce - C. By special request from my Father.- always fresh, never out of a can.

Stuffing - C. One batch prepared to stuff turkey with and another batch prepared and cooked separately in the oven for my mother who overly fears poultry bacteria.

 Chalfonte Sweet Potatoes- A.H. I drop off my charme rattan/pyrex casserole dish and she prepares these off site in the comfort of her own home while watching some trashy T.V. show like N.J. Housewives.

Oval Rattan/Pyrex Casserole Dish, in 2qt and 4qt.

Martha's Mashed Potatoes - A.D., A.H. & C. It's not like any of us needs the others' permission to use the whole stick of butter.

Green Beans - C .Nobody really eats these but I feel better if there is one thing that is green and not a starch.

Buttermilk Biscuits - C.

Farm Gravy - A.D. Prepared as the turkey is being carved with the drippings from the turkey. It's the piece de resistance of the Turkey dinner because it is heavily poured onto every item on your plate. We don't tell A.D. but we always have a backup in the fridge - something store bought from whole Foods, you know, just in case.

Pies- One Pumpkin Pie for my Father and one Pecan Pie from Goode Co. BBQ for everyone else. Like I said, I'm no Martha Stewart. I'm not embarrassed to admit that I serve store bought desserts. I don't have time to bake two pies, besides Goode Co.'s Pecan Pie is the best I've ever had. (Would make a great hostess gift if you are invited to my, I mean someone's, house for T. Day.)

Team Thanksgiving Tip: Keep your recipes as simple as possible.

(I'll share all these recipes next week on a separate posting because they are kind of long once you put them all together.)

Like I've said, I've spoken to all my chef/guests, and family/guests and we are all so excited about Thanksgiving. I'm getting my house kind of pulled together, and I am really looking forward to Thanksgiving. If you're not there yet, and you are starting to stress out about your family coming and the meal. Don't forget to try my Thanksgiving Hostess Tip - Invite Some Friends Over.Trust me, there are a lot of things your family won't bring up when a non family guest is sitting at the table. Wouldn't you look forward to a meal that your entire family might be on their best guest behavior. Perhaps, you might sweat a little less yourself. Maybe at the end of the evening, you might even feel that My-Dinner-Party-Was-A-Complete-Success-Glow. (Glow meaning shine, not female sweat, tee, hee.)

Good luck, and why don't you think about replacing some of those tired old cherries that might be lingering in your head with some fresh cranberry thoughts for the Holiday Season? (That was a metaphor if you didn't catch the Holiday humor.)

Gobble, Gobble.

P.S.- You might start thinking about starting your Christmas list right about now. Don't you know the most famous list maker of all has already started his - The Big Guy Himself, Santa.

Your Mother-In-Law Called. . .

C:

Your Mother-in-Law called and she's planning a visit, an extended visit - she wants to spend time with her grandchildren over the holiday season.

Now is not the time to live in denial. If you have not spoken to your Mother-in-Law, or parents, or crazy siblings, or whoever it is that makes your palms start to sweat just thinking about them, now is the time to call. It is far better to know the reality of your impending 'situation' than to live in denial only to knock yourself out in the end, again.

So, if you haven't heard from her yet, go ahead, make the call, "Hi, I'm just calling to check in and find out what your plans for the holidays are?" It's as simple as that, kind of.

Every year, year-after-year, the biggest sale we have in the store during the holidays is not to an adoring husband shopping for gifts for his beloved, not to a corporate head honcho looking for 75 of the same expensive, but not too showy business gifts, but to the procrastinator. And, by procrastinator - I mean most of us. That is exactly why I'm writing this blog this week so you can think about it for the next several weeks, laugh at yourself, and then in a few weeks when your back is up against the wall come running into the store frantically screaming, "I need help! I need help! Could someone please help me!" Now, J. and I are very familiar with this ritualistic seasonal holiday behavior, but I've got to tell you - it scares the new girls. It actually freaks them out a little to see our sweet, lovely customers get so completely unglued. And, if you think it doesn't show, or that no one notices, quit fooling yourself - we are no amateurs. The mother-in-law called and apparently she's planning to stay awhile mania has been a phenomenon in our store for years. The holiday anxiety syndrome blows into town every year right around the time the shopping centers start to blast that endless drone of holiday cheer that they think their customers want to hear 6 weeks before Christmas.

The reality is - she, or he, or they, and possibly their children and pets are about to descend on you and your nice, quiet home.

So, lets get started. Let's focus on the Mother-in-Law. They tend to have the strongest voice and the longest memories. Let's make it super special for her so when she goes back home she can confess to her friends, "Although, in the past, it hasn't always been ideal, this year everything was perfect - my daughter-in-law just thought of everything, sigh."

Practice Makes Perfect: Start eating together, as a family, at the dinner table again. Mother-in-Laws do not understand that today's children are too busy to eat dinner at the dinner table. Have your children practice their manners and see if they are capable of these three things: Having a conversation without arguing. Not sitting on their feet. And, not playing a video game under the table. All three things - simultaneously, for at least thirty minutes. This exercise will probably take several attempts and produce tears, plenty of tears.

Car Service: First impressions can be everything. Wash your car. For some reason, she will assume that if your car is clean and organized, than your home will be clean and organized, and just to compound this theory - than your life will be organized. And, not to make it too much about her, but her stay will be organized.

The Bar: In case your Mother-in-Law has a crooked elbow, or she's just stressed out from her day of traveling, make sure you have plenty of whatever it is that calms her nerves - because her nerves are precious to you and you are anxious to make sure that they are calmed at all times - white wine, red wine, vodka, scotch, bourbon. . . .  And, think to leave her fancy out where she can pour herself another without having to disturb you because, after all, she's on holiday and who's counting?

 My Stocked Bar in Squeaky Cabinet:

The Guest Room:  Make sure the bed is comfortable and presentable. We've all the heard the expression, 'Woke up on the wrong side of the bed, grumpy.' Nice sheets, comfortable pillows, warm blanket - simple as that. Do you ever wake up in a hotel grumpy, no? That formula works! A cozy throw for nap time. Plenty of hangers. Clear out your junk in the drawers and closets - she surely doesn't need to know how much you spend on clothes you will never wear again because you forgot that you were storing them in the guest room. Perhaps, a good book and a carafe of water set on a bedside table for the middle of the night awakenings. Bonus Points Awarded: Charme picture of her and her grandchildren prominently on display, front and center in a pretty frame - something that might even go with the decor in her house when you tell her to keep it at the end of the visit if it goes well - Double Bonus Points Awarded!!

Pretty Lilac Sferra Throw and Sferra Hand Embroidered Francesca Sheets:

Be prepared - after a good night's sleep on these sheets, she'll be kissing you good morning.

Juliska Bedside Carafe and Not-Exactly-Real Violet:

The Guest Bath: A stack of fresh towels (not the ones you dry the dog with!) in varying sizes. A new bar of soap at the sink and in the shower! Do not leave the used ones in there from your last guest, uchck. Maybe a fragranced candle. Perhaps a pretty vase with some flowers. And, of course, a room fragrance near the throne for embarrassing issues we just don't talk about. Some supplies - Q-tips, cotton balls, an extra roll of toilet paper, shampoo, body lotion, a nail file. Bonus Points Awarded: Simply ask her if she prefers floral or non-florals scents for her bath products. It doesn't hurt anyone to have her think before she steps foot on the plane that someone cares. Try to keep bath products, candle and roomspray consistent within one fragrance, we don't want to upset her delicate sensibilities with too many scents - after all, we're not picking out car freshener.

Charming Cote Bastide Bathroom Accessories, Not-Exactly-Real Paperwhite and Elizabeth W. Lavender Bath Products:

 

  Note: Lavender is also soothing and relaxing, perhaps you should buy some for your bathroom also - your Mother-In-Law has not cornered the market on nerves.

  

Fridge: My sister-in-law always stocks her fridge with whatever my parents eat for breakfast and mid-day snacks. Several days before the visit, she double checks with them that those items are still their favorites and if there is anything else they would like to nibble on during their stay. Bonus Points Awarded: Keep your guests full. A full stomach is a happy stomach (My sister-in-law happens to know that my mother has enjoyed a bowl of Quaker oatmeal every morning of her precious life for the last ?? years so she makes sure that she has plenty on hand.) Plus, don't make your guests go to the grocery store with you, nobody actually wants to go to the grocery store.

Something to Do: Plan out your meals ahead of time - which ones you'll eat at home and which restaurants you would like to dine out at. Have your reservations all made in advance and be sure to request a quiet table. Try a museum, or a fun family movie, shopping (But not for you, for her. Mother-in-Laws typically do not like to see their daughter-in-law's extravagances. You can call the store from your cell phone and put the item on hold later.)

Well, that's enough for now.  Mull it over for a few weeks and we'll see you at the store a few days before she arrives!

Insider Tip From an Actual Honest to Goodness Feared Mother-in-Law: Like any true journalist, I am not a liberty to reveal my sources, but I went over my list of suggestions with a known M-I-L and she just smiled and nodded in approval. She even went as far as to say that it sounds like it would be a lovely time, but she had not heard from her daughter-in-law yet!  See, make the call!!!

 

With This Ring . . .

C:

With this ring, I thee wed. For richer or poorer, in sickness and in health, . . . but please God, don't make me say that I'll promise to wear that ring for the rest of my life. I know diamonds last forever, but does an engagement ring have too? 

I remember when I graduated from college a girlfriend of mine got engaged and a bunch of us gals met for a celebratory glass of champagne and an official viewing of 'the ring.'  The boy, I mean the groom had selected 'the ring' all on his own and surprised my dear friend, and it showed. The only thing that came to mind was - why? Why that ring? How did he settle on that particular ring? And, where were his people - mother, sister, best-friend . . . anyone who could help him through this monumentally important decision? Poor girl, she really tried hard to be pleased and bond with the ring. (I might have said at the time that he spent way more effort buying a set of new tires for his car than he did picking out that ring.) Over the next few years, girlfriends got engaged in succession only to endure comments by not engaged flip-minded girls without current boyfriends - "Well, that rings a grower, not a shower. Ha, ha." and, "Oh sweetie, don't worry, you can upgrade in a few years." or, "Won't that make a pretty clasp on a necklace someday."  or, the one comment that actually does seem to play out quite often, "Down the road, you could get a matching diamond and they would be cute little diamond stud earrings. You know, something comfortable to play tennis in or give your daughter for her Sweet 16."

 

Couldn't there be 'starter rings' like there are starter houses? Why is it that everyone is so O.K. with buying a 'starter' house and moving to a bigger house later, but the ring is supposed to be forever? Do we believe that because De Beers tells us that it should be so? If the price of the engagement ring is based on some archaic three month salary formula and the price of your first house is based on a similar but different salary formula , why is it O.K. to flip the house as the hubby moves up the corporate ladder and not exactly O.K. to flip the ring? Are we really that sentimental about rings and not so about houses, even if little Jimmy took his first steps in the living room of that house? 

What is the actual 'shelf life' of an engagement ring?

Years ago, when my husband and I started to talk about marriage he said that he would like for me to go with him to pick out the engagement ring - there was some muttering about even if he got what he thought was 'the right one' it probably still wouldn't be 'the right one.' (so true, tee hee.) I already knew exactly what I wanted (but, who doesn't, really.) - a simple diamond band set in platinum, but not too simple - meaning, not too refined.  A classic. I told myself that I would never outgrow or tire of such an ageless, traditional band. I would want to wear this ring forever.   Actually, this was the style band that I had decided on for myself way before the 'groom' came along. Thank God he was so cooperative in thinking that we had made this very important decision together.

My Classic Diamond Band:

 

My Sentimental Moment:

               

Seven years later I came down with a case of the 'Seven-year-wedding-band-itch.'  I felt like it was about time to start thinking about replacing my current classic, timeless ring with a newer, more classic and timeless ring. Something even more everyday,  something even more current, something that was even more me. The seven year older me?

The Cartier 3-Gold Trinity Ring w/ Pave White Diamond

My new - purchased to scratch itch.

Cartier Large 3-Gold Trinity Ring

His old - original band given at ceremony.

The replacement was made under the guise of - matching bands, how charme! The  idea of the new ring seemed to work - he was delighted with my thoughtfulness, and, of course, I was even more than delighted with my new band. Actually, looking back on the conversation, he was probably relieved it was just the band I was thinking about replacing and not the bearer of 'said' band.

Over the next several years, I have noticed a good many of my girlfriends wearing a various assortment of different types of rings and bands on the fourth finger of their left hand.

Fashion Rings: Pretty pink, light blue, or yellow diamonds in the spring and summer - pastel colored diamonds seem to be very much in fashion these days. Recently, someone was even telling me about black diamonds. Are the black diamonds supposed to go with the black nail polish? Are we really thinking as fashionistas that our diamonds should match our current Chanel nail polish craze? Would we really spend thousands of dollars to match something that costs $25?

Harry Winston Colored Diamond Rings

(Nail polish should not match.)

Reset Stones: Original wedding-day-diamonds reset in antique-like settings are very popular at this time - very Vera Wang. I also see this choice of settings on many of the new, young brides too.

Tiffany & Co. Diamond Engagement Rings

           

 Charme.     

Super-Sized Rings: Don't forget, I live in Texas - that ring isn't big if it isn't causing some kind of traffic disturbance from the sun hitting the diamond as it casually rests on the steering wheel in carpool line and causing temporary blindness to all in it's wake. Crossing guards take heed, wear your polarized sunglasses at all times!

Cracker-Jack Box Diamond Engagement Ring

Warning for husbands - could cost more than starter house.

 I, for one, am an advocate of rotation. Maybe two to three options that can be changed up easily depending on the day or event - a band, an engagement ring, perhaps some beautiful guards in some of your favorite primary colors - sapphires, emeralds, rubies, (I'm a blonde, so I think that I would look stunning in yellow diamonds just in case he's reading this.) And, wouldn't it be lovely for your husband to know that there could be more guards purchased easily if the occasion arises, and he wouldn't have to trouble you for suggestions. And then, the surprise would really be something to look forward to! And, that buying the perfect birthday or anniversary gift for you could actually be easier than selecting a new set of tires for the car.

Can be purchased new, or in an antique jewelry shop.  Or, inherited from dear old Aunt Jetrocks!

I actually had an old Aunt Jetrocks and have several bands that look just like these that she left to me. I love them and wear them all the time with just jeans and a t-shirt.

   

And now, I already have a new band selected for the next time my one-and-only feels inspired to gift me with another sparkly pretty. (I hope it doesn't take another seven years. My itch could be a  burning rash by then!)

Van Cleef & Arpels Perlee Rose Gold Diamond Ring

If he's feeling respectfully generous. Perhaps, I should even contact Santa about this one and explain to him how good, or naughty, or good at being naughty, or whatever - the ring should go on the list! 

Cartier Trinity Ring Paved w/ Pink, Yellow, and White Diamonds

 
If he's feeling crazy out-of-the-ball-park generous. This ring is bigger than Santa, will have to wait until respectfully big anniversary (lots of scratching until then.)

 

Both of those bands would fit perfectly into my band rotation strategy. And, as I always politely remind him - it can always be worse. The concept of more can be so overwhelming to people of my gender, sensitive nature, and compulsiveness.

Cartier Trinity Bracelet Paved w/ Diamonds

 

The Mother Ship of the Trinity Collection!

(Price upon request- not from me, call Cartier! You know it's bad when Cartier won't put the price in the catalog. I'm sure I'd have to sell my house and live in my car for this beauty. Not actually on my list, but sometimes it's best to raise bar so high husband feels better and relieved when real, more reasonable target is presented. I'm sure this bracelet falls more under the category of entire block of 'starter' houses.)

Cartier Love Bracelets w/ Diamonds

 

Please someone, put them on your list! They are too charme!! How would you choose? Wouldn't three be better than one? And then, which three! They make it so hard on us!!! Manipulators.

I love accessories! Or, at least the idea of all the accessories I could buy with my lotto winnings.  Although,  for this page of pretties that I've prepared for you, I should be playing Mega Millions.

My personal fashion philosophy so often falls under the category of the Texas Two Step - Diamonds and Denim! They both go with almost everything!  A big 'ole gold Rolex wouldn't hurt anyone either. (Again, if he's listening.) Though gauche, and very 80's - what can I say? The cornerstone of my fashion philosophy seems to be 80's Texas Gauche! That's probably why a little YSL Rive Gauche helps balance things out a bit, Frenchy - Texan Gauche.

Insider Tip: You could accidentally forward to your husband, oops - am I bad?

Note from C.: Sorry I didn't post some type of warning at beginning of post - Could cause unreasonable and unjustifiable amount of desire that may or may not go away, ever.

And oh, just to make myself feel a little less rotten and materialistic, may I add - I wish for world peace, also.

Scarves - The Underrated Accessory.

A:

Why is fall always about the boots? In most parts of the country, Fall is all about sweaters, heavy coats, and boots. Here in Houston, Fall is... well, unpredictable. Some days its 90 degrees and some days its 50. In fact, some days its 90 degrees when you wake up, and in the lower 50s by the time you go to bed.

What to wear in such a volatile climate? How does one Fall-ify their t-shirts, jeans and flip-flops? Scarves!

We found these wonderful scarves this year in New York at market (Remember these?) made by this girl in L.A. All the Hollywood starlets and tabloid darlings wear them. 

Look how cute Jessica Alba is, in three different scarves, worn three different ways, with three different pairs of sunglasses, three different hairstyles, and three different outfits. Three different looks!

I'm telling you, these scarves are the perfect weight for warmer weather. They're not too heavy or itchy or woolly, and they look great with everything from tanks to sweaters!

They're too cute with jeans and Petit Bateau tees.

Perfect for scooting around town in a cotton dress and tights.

 

Like I said, perfect even with Havaiana flip-flops on a muggy afternoon at our neighbor on Saint St, Tiny Boxwood's.

Look how they can easily update and coordinate an outfit!

Perfect to throw on with jeans for breakfast at Tiny's and girl talk.

I even like to wear mine with cut-offs, a J. Crew sweater, and flip-flops. Throwing on my scarf over it is what I like to call "Insta-chic".

 

We think they look superb with some nice bling. Here's Julia at Mariquita Masterson next door to our River Oaks Blvd store - the colors in her scarf match their decor!

Unisex: We think they look great on men, too. Here are Steve and Issac at the dessert counter at Andre's, another neighbor of our River Oaks Blvd store.

 

Okay, maybe Ricochet the dog in a scarf isn't so practical, but even she looks tres chic in them!

Scarves sold at Indulge on Saint St. and range in price from $78 to $90. All models courtesy of (and can be found during the week at) Indulge on Saint St. and Indulge Linens on River Oaks Blvd.

The Anna Wintour Challenge

C:

 

My Mirror Has Two Faces:

 

It occurred to me today while I was laying in bed flipping through my myriad of magazines and reading yet another article on aging written by somebody younger than me accompanied by a photograph of a beautiful young woman with skin gifted from the Gods (and, who was probably in her teens.) It was at that exact moment that I had an epiphany - I will never be this young again ! At this exact moment - I am younger than I will be in a minute, an hour, a day, a week, a year (I think you get where I'm going with this.)

I decided that today will be my new ground zero. I am 46 years old. My mother is 85. And, both of my grandmothers passed away in their 90's. So, in all sense and purpose, I have a really long way to go. So, according to this time line, on this very day, I look good. In other words,  I will look back on this very moment in time for the rest of my life and think - 'Wow, I wish I still looked like that!'

Upon further contemplation, I have decided in my layman beauty psycho-babble terms that there are 4 components to aging, not the standard three that most beauty experts exploit:

Genes:

Helpless, nothing you can do about this one. You either have great aging genes or you don't. Mother Nature decides this one, not you.

 

The statuesque Blythe Danner and daughter Gwyneth Paltrow

 

The infectious Goldie Hawn with daughter Kate Hudson 

 

 

 

Lifestyle:

 Have you ever heard the phrase - 'Rode hard and put up wet?'  Well, I'm from Texas and every young lady down here is familiar with that one.  Eating, drinking, smoking, the sun, and an abundance of revelry and debauchery will catch up to you in the end. 'You've got to pay the fiddler sometime' - yet another endearing Texas phrase, but you get my drift. How you live your life in your 20's and 30's will surely show up in your 40's.

The lovely Kate Moss

 

The consummate Working Girl, Melanie Griffith - work'n it.

 

 

Potions and Procedures:

You must set a financial budget for this. This can turn into an endless financial black hole quickly. And, although there are a lot of really great procedures out there that you can have done, most people just don't know when to stop. It's like accessorizing, most people just overdo it.

 

America's Sweetheart, Meg Ryan

 

The jokester, Joan Rivers - live not claymation

 

Jocelyn Wildenstein, New York Socialite - still wild about plastic surgery.

 

So, let's focus on the one thing we can control. 

  

 Mental:

American women are terrified of aging? Why??? I think aging is like having a mosquito bite. If you try not to scratch the mosquito bite than all you can think about is scratching the stupid mosquito bite (that comes from someone who lives in a swampy climate and is allergic to mosquito bites - it can be all encompassing.) If you are trying so damn hard not to age, than all you can think about is aging. Why not just quit thinking about it so much? Try!

• Put away that horrible magnifying mirror in the bathroom - really, why would you ever need to use that!
  

• If you can see your breath in the mirror - scoot the chair back! Try to look in the mirror from the safety of say - how close you would stand behind someone in line.

• Quit talking about it so much! If you quit talking about it so much, you would slowly, hopefully, quit thinking about it so much.

• Change your perspective - you will never look like you did in your 20's and 30's again, but so what - who wants to?! That was fun, but this now, in fact, this is the rest of your life.

• Avoid the cliches - the most over used phrase of the year - Cougar. The first couple of times it was funny, now it's just annoying.

• Come up with a new word to describe yourself and your friends - years ago men latched on to this way of thinking and came up with 'distinguished.' Now, us gals are on to their tricks, and we can come up with a better word for ourselves, maybe je ne se quoi- 'She has that certain something/' or 'isn't she so attractive.' Let's just use the term 'hot' from here on out to refer to the tea in the kettle.

I think that if we start thinking that aging is not that big of a deal, then that in itself will be one less worry line across our forehead.

 

   

 

So, what normally is something I really look forward to - a full Sunday morning with a stack of new fashion magazines and no where that I have to be, quickly grew into a source of irritation.

I, for one, am going to quit looking so closely at the fashion magazines. I don't get who their target market is? When I was in my 20's, I would strictly adhere to the pages of Vogue on my tiny clothing budget looking for some 'like piece' at the Galleria. In my 30's, I would actually try to buy two or three really great key pieces right out of the magazine pages. Now, in my 40's when I could actually afford to dress more in designer clothes, and I do travel to Paris and New York so frequently, and, I actually do have occasions to wear 'said' clothes, I can't. Those clothes were not designed for me to wear.

As Karl Lagerfeld so wisely surmised recently,  "This look is not back for people who wore it when it was new."

Fashion magazines are so geared toward the young, that the only pages that would possibly pertain to me are the endless array of articles each month on aging. I can't believe that I am reduced to text! GRRR!!!

I would like to challenge Anna Wintour to do a photo spread of what she is personally going to buy this season. I don't know how old Anna Wintour is, nor do I care. But, I do not think that she is wearing the clothes that she so meticulously handpicks for these Vogue spreads - with their short skirts, sheer blouses, and mile high heels. Is there a second 'secret closet' at Vogue with all the good stuff for people who are not living on the footsteps of a nightclub?

Anna Wintour - beautiful, age appropriate outfit never photographed for Vogue

 

If you ever want to try something new, these are the facial products I like and use.

Lavender Cleanser - Source Vital (great for sensitive skin)

Aromatic Emulsion Pure - Source Vital (melts blackheads away)

Jojoba Day Moisturizer - Jo Malone (goes on so smooth)

Orange & Geranium Night Cream - Jo Malone (rich and thick)

Vitamin E Gel - Jo Malone (sticky like Vaseline, I forget to use most of the time)

 

And for my body, which makes up for the other 90 something % of my skin, I use Vrai all over, morning and night. The soap, body oil and body cream are all incredible and one of the best selling body care lines in the store.

 

C. and I. vacationing in Harbor Island 

  


C.'s personal beauty secret - charming husband 10 years older! "I will always be young to him."

Fashion: Flip It

C:

For me, Sundays are the day of rest and laundry. All week, I find myself hanging up dirty clothes on the back of closet doors and stashing t-shirts safely out of harms way - and by harm, I mean M., my trusty maid. M.'s approach to laundry is the exact opposite of mine. M. has more of an "all encompassing" style - meaning she dumps it all in together. Whereas I'm a "sorter." And by "sorter" I really mean "sorcerer." I am truly gifted with laundry. It is one of my hidden talents. I don't even mind doing laundry because I am that good at it. Every Sunday morning when I start the process, my husband groans like Lurch (from the Adam's Family) "Ugghhh, not the laundry." He chooses not to participate in my weekly ritual, which is fine. We can't all be passionate about sorting things.

There are three key elements to being a kickass laundress - sorting, detergent, and patience. Follow these simple "laundry rules" and you won't be groaning like Lurch every time you have to do laundry.

Sorting: Three simple stacks.
Blacks
Colors
Whites

Sub-Sorting: Results in three more stacks. (This is my personal insider tip.)

I subdivide each stack by fabric - translation: his and hers. His clothes are obviously a little less precious than mine and usually a whole lot dirtier, so I wash his on the "boil - heavy load" setting and mine on the "cold - delicate" setting. Most of his go straight into the dryer, and mine are hung to dry at their convenience. And, as you might expect - ironed, lovingly (ha!), by M., aka The Iron Maiden.

Tip: I do the whites last so the white-y lint stuff doesn't get all over the black stuff.
Tip: Begin to fill the washing machine with water and pour the detergent into the water before you pile the clothes in. (Does not work in front load washing machine, obviously.) I like liquid detergent better than powder - those blue crystal-ey things can make even more stains.

I manage to conquer all my stacks in a day because I get up so stupidly early. You may be a one-load-a-day-kinda gal. You could do a load while you watch T.V., you could do a load walking the dog, you could even do a load while you're out for dinner with a friend (so-called multi-tasking.)

Detergent:
I actually use Tide For Sensitive Skin for everyday clothes - meaning most of his and some of mine. 

 

 

You may, on occasion, need to use a little Shout for the impossible hard to reason with stains.

 

On my precious favorites I use Le Blanc Linen Wash. I use the Original Fragrance for my clothes and the Lavender for the boudoir.

So, I'm sorting, and I'm drinking my coffee, and I'm grooving to my caffeine rush, when my very good friend A. called, "I started The Flip." she said excitedly.

Personally, I hadn't even thought about starting 'The Flip' yet. It's still 93 degrees out and she's already flipping her closet. Well, I'm always up for a challenge. How about you ? Shall we flip out together?

Before we do flip, there's something we have to do. I know you don't want to do it, but it's necessary. In fact, it's mandatory to a good flip.

The Weed: Be brutal, if you can't be brutal invite a friend, or sister, or even your mother if you have to. Do not ask your husband - that falls into the same territory as - "Does this outfit make me look fat?" line of questioning.

Fit - If it doesn't fit, it goes in the pile.  Be honest with yourself, you probably are never going to have a stomach or legs like you did in college - just let it go. If it doesn't look good now, it's not going to look good tomorrow.
Style - Clothes do go out of style.  Those jeans from 5 years ago - in the pile!
T-Shirts - Check under the arms. Do I need to say more - pile!
Appropriate - If your teenage daughter wants to wear it chances are you shouldn't be - pile!
Frequency - If you haven't worn it in a year, omitting ball gowns - pile!
Age - If you think it's back in style - pile. Unless it's Italian, then just put a jacket over it.
Shoes - You can have too many - pile.

Handbags - You can never have enough. Store!

 

 

 

Most maids are thrilled to be asked if there is anything they or a friend might like in the stack. There is also Purple Heart, Goodwill, The Covenant House, The Womens Alliance, all of which are in need of items that you no longer need or desire.

The Flip:
There is a 20/80 rule in economics that I'm sure if studied in context would surely apply to womens' closets - you probably wear 20% percent of your clothes 80% of the time.

The Fall Flip:
Whites, pastels, and sleeveless are "put away." Grays, browns, kitty-cat, and long sleeves move to the front. Black and khaki stay in the neutral zone. They can be worn year-round depending on the weight.

The Order: I organize my closet by use - my top 20% is always at the front.
New - everything with a price tag goes front and center, regardless! Especially since I know you paid full price for it because there haven't been any sales yet.
Daily - next, put the type of clothes that you wear the most toward the front - i.e. if you work - then work clothes, if you just workout - then workout clothes, if you lunch then - lunching clothes. The front clothes should be lifestyle clothes.
Weekly - next-next, these are the weekend clothes. i.e. sexy kitten top for dinner with your one-and-only-someone (or potential OAOS), or maybe church-mom dress. The tennis outfit that doubles (tee, hee) as the errands ensemble.
Monthly - next-next-next -Best friend or family member's birthdays and anniversaries.
Special Occasion - next-next-next-next- engagement parties, weddings.
Destination Locations - way back of the closet (maybe even a hallway closet) -ski clothes, hiking gear, sailing, or just that perfect turquoise caftan for beside the pool in the Bahamas.

Tip: Shoes and accessories should be put under the same rigorous tests as clothes.

Today:

 

Tomorrow:

 

Yesterday:

 

Reward - now, maybe there's a little extra space for something new. See, I got this really cute pair of gray J. Brand jeans and this too cute gray print kitty-cat sweater set. I couldn't decide which I would wear more  - the cardigan or the tank, so I compromised and got the set. I hated to separate the cubs. Tee, hee. 

 

Indulge Tip:
For his closet  - try Antica Farmacista - Cedar and Lime Reed Stick Diffusers

For your closet - try Elizabeth W- lavender hanger sachets, square sachets and drawer liners. The lavender reed sticks are pretty incredible too. (Did you know lavender is also a natural moth deterrent? I don't know why because I love the smell.)

 

 

Look forward to a fun new blog post most every Monday.

 

It's Not A Big One?

C:

My husband was teasing me the other day, "Don't you have a birthday coming up?"

I kinda rolled my eyes, smiled, and sweetly replied, "Why, yes I do - 46," waiting to see his response, which would be in direct proportion to the substance of the gift that I would be receiving.

"Well, that's good, it's not a big one."

What was that???!!! It's not a big one? Was that some kind of  harsh-economic-times cop-out? Since he's 55, does he really not think 46 is something? Isn't every birthday important? Am I getting to be too old to believe in birthdays? Ugh.

Well, all I know for sure is that it's another calendar year so that means it's time to strip down, take off the oversize watch, and step on the scale.

UGGGHHH ! ! !

It happened again - another five pounds. Every year it's another five pounds. I don't get it. I mean, I do - get it. I just don't want to get it. A couple of years ago, I fell pray to the B-day Five, ignored it and then the next year stepped back on the scale only to find that another B-day Five had crept up. Let me tell you, it's a lot harder to loose ten pounds than five pounds. As you get older, there is a definite correlation between bigger birthdays and bigger arses.

So, I went straight to the handy internet. How do I loose the weight, and fast? And, of course, I don't want to suffer or be inconvenienced.

First, I researched the celebs:

Gwyneth Paltrow: Super skinny actress with the great legs. Daily three hour trainer. Advice - GOOP - Two week liquid fast. Whatever ! ! !  I don't have a trainer, chef, or personal assistant to run around and buy all the ingredients it took to not eat anything. 

Oprah - Who could rely on anything she says - complete yo-yo'er. Poor thing. You go girl, keep it up! That girl's got determination. And 67 pounds to lose!  If she'd adhered to the ritualistic birthday weigh-in, she wouldn't be in such a predicament.

   

Madonna: Over 50, with perhaps too much muscle tone, if that's possible. Built a gym extension to her house that is bigger than my whole house.

Fads: I refuse to buy a book just to lose a few pounds.
Atkins - No suger. Can't. Love orange juice too much. Besides, I tried it once years ago and got hives. Ick.
The Zone - Addition required. 1-2-3 method ? Too complicated.
South Beach - Low fat. No pasta! No wine! No way!

I guess I'll have to go it alone. That's when I remembered two-a-days. One of the girls that works for me is the field hockey coach at one of the local high schools, and she had those little girls in two-a-days for two weeks before school started to get them back in shape.

Instead of gearing up to face off against a sports team, my opponent was quite simply mechanical - the scale. I approached losing the weight with the same tenacity those high schoolers did - train hard and you'll beat your opponent. For good measure, I got my nemesis - the skinny jeans - out and hung them on my closet door, a friendly reminder every morning to get my arse out of bed and go for a walk.

Here's the 'lose weight' formula as I understand it:  To lose one pound - you must lower your caloric intake by 500 calories a day, every day, for one week.

 <500 calories> a day less. In any combination between food calories and exercise.

If you run/walk 5 miles (roughly 500 calories) you are well on your way to your goal weight =<500> Kudos to you !

If you run/walk 3 miles (roughly 300 calories) then cut 200 calories out of your diet = <500>

If you run/walk 1 mile (roughly 100 calories) then cut 400 calories out of your diet = <500>

Two-a-days: I split the exercise part of my diet into two parts - 2.5 miles in the morning and 2.5 miles in the evening = 5 miles = 500 calories. Completely painless and I didn't even have to give up my Take 5's (which actually contributed to the problem to begin with.)

If you want to lose one pound, keep it up for an entire week. 2 pounds -  2 weeks. 3 pounds - 3 weeks, and so on, and so on.

There you go, a simple, pain free to lose weight without a trainer 3 hours a day, personal chef, or gym addition. Not to mention, cost effective - free!  Excellent way to spend more time with your dogs and/or husband. (Might have bought a couple of cute new workout outfits for encouragement. Check out a Lululemmon store near you.) My Fall '09 signature gray:

(We're not posing for any more pictures until we get our own blog, Mom. Union dog rules.)

Now, I'm ready for another birthday!  Even though my hair is getting grayer, my brow is more furrowed, at least I can still squeeze back into last year's skinny jeans. Did I mention - it's a big one - 46?

The Perfect Hostess Gifts

 

Hostess Gifts are not like wedding gifts – you don’t have a year!

 

So, you ran out of time before you left for the trip.

You were overwhelmed by the idea of buying the perfect gift for the hostess who seems to have everything. You thought you would just pick something up when you got back, ha.

  Well, now you’ve been home a few weeks, school has begun, and you still haven’t bought that gift.

-  A great, fun group photo - not of yourselves - in a good looking frame that matches the home's decor. I love these brassy, antique-y looking ones from France that we sell at our Blvd. location. Did I mention how reasonably priced they are?  $42 for the square size (4" x 4" photo) and $48 for the rectangular one (4" x 6").

    

-  If you are the least bit photogenic and not in a bikini or otherwise compromising situation -  A Photo Book  - shutterfly.com - is so clever. Should provide hours of good laughs in future viewings. Make sure there are plenty of really good pictures of the hostess to insure invite back.

-  A soft, comfy throw in the color scheme of the guest room or den. I love all the throws by Sferra, the Celine ($70), the Bristol ($150), and if the visit was completely over-the-top, the cashmere Dorsey ($400). We try to stock all styles in all colors at the stores. Very popular, year round!

 

   

-  A serving piece out of the hostess’ tableware.  Shown below is the Juliska ceramic dinnerware (we sell a TON of this in the store too) and Arte Italica - pewter goes with almost anything.

 

-  A fun DVD collection of favorite movies - classics or just released! I love 'How To Steal A Million', with Audrey Hepburn for her Givenchy ensembles, 'Priceless' with Audrey Tatou for her Chanel and Louis Vuitton ensembles, 'The Thomas Crown Affair' for Rene Russo's Michael Kors' ensembles, and, of course, anything Agathe Christie (no fashion there, ha.)  Who doesn't love a good Who-Dunnit amongst friends while staying at a completely isolated locale, shivers. BBC and A&E sell some of their best loved miniseries online.

 

 

 

 

-  A Juliska Vase (the mini trio set is one of our bestselling gifts and one of my personal favorite gifts to give! Makes me want to accidentally drop a few of my old vases, they're so wonderful!)

 

And, it should go without saying - anything that you, your husband, children, or dog might have broken, soiled, stained, ripped, or ruined - cherished or not so cherished - should be replaced immediately with same not like replacements.

Note: You really don't have up to a year to buy a wedding gift - Can you say "rationalized"?