Thursday, March 31, 2011

A Reward for Achieving Personal Goals

Good Morning Darlings,

Today one of my dedicated readers (who also happens to be a very very very old friend) has approached me with a very personal question, one in which I am completely honored to answer. At the end of May, she will have achieved two very personal, very exciting personal goals...Reaching her goal weight AND finishing her first year of law school (something that she has always aspired to do). She asks me, "How can I treat myself? What is something fun and fabulous that I can buy?"

Well of course ladies (and gents, Jesse I know your eyes are already in the back of your head), this is something that I cannot answer for everyone. But if I were in my fabulous reader's position, here are five things that I would contemplate treating myself with. Year one of Law school is supposed to be the toughest one. You have to prove yourself, make your mark, and try to find someone to hire you for no pay over the summer so that you can eat ramen all night and sweat through your (I can't even say it) SKIRT SUIT all day. These mini-lawyers are amazing. I don't know if I could do it. So the next five items are pretty big deals. I hope you enjoy, and please if you have any suggestions for our fearless and amazing lawyer to be, please indulge us!


I L O V E this green, AND the initials on it are one line away from our readers initials!

Call me crazy. I happen to love expensive bags. Actually by now you should realize that I love expensive everything. College in Boston gave me a whole new world view of all things Eurotrashychic because of all of the ET who go to college in Boston. This bag makes women all over the world turn their heads. This bag costs $1000. It is a tote bag. It is not a special bag, it is a bag for carrying your (law) school books and wallet, and gym clothes. But let me tell you what is special...The way you feel when you are carrying it. When you have this bag on your shoulder, your nose has no choice but to point up to the heavens. You stand up straighter when you are wearing this bag. The other thing about this bag is that it will never wear out. You will have it forever. So really when you think about it, if you are paying $200 every two years for a new Longchamp because the nylon keeps ripping, you may as well just buy a Goyard and have it last forever. The same goes for the LV neverfull, its a little bit less expensive, but EVERYONE has one. Buy a Goyard and don't regret it. 


Monte Carlo
Buy a plane ticket and go somewhere crazy. Go by yourself or with someone who admires you as much as I do. Do it like a backpacker or do it like a lady of luxury. Have fun, go crazy. Enjoy the newness of it all. It will refresh you for your second year of law school. Eat the food, go dancing, drink the wine, go shopping, get a tan, have a hangover, buy a diamond, get a tattoo. Revel in the fact that you are young and fabulous and can go wherever you want in the world and in life. Remind yourself daily how amazing you are before you leave the confines of your hotel. And if you do go to Monte Carlo, choose a number before you go and play it every day. 


No big schpiel about these. They look good on everybody and it's impossible to break them. Wear them on your fabulous trip.


Oh please, just because three paragraphs ago I am singing the phrases of a $1000 tote bag doesn't mean that I don't have a heart. Any time I find myself with a few extra dollars to spare, I donate to Action AIDs or AmFar. Every extra penny helps to fight the scientific and social fight that is AIDs in America. Now, I'm not saying that this should be everyones cause of choice...but find a charity you believe in and every time you donate to them, you feel like a million bucks and they are so happy to have your money! 

For our lawyer to be, donating to her Alma Mater (she's a Terrier) would be a great choice. I know that she loved her undergrad experience and loves to give back to that community. Hopefully one day, they will open a building in her honor and paint it with the Goyard chevron (Don't think I'm getting too serious on you). 


My personal favourites, spray roses and peonies. I'm a romantic at heart.
Order a years worth of flowers from Calyx Flowers and they send fresh flowers to your door on the first of each month. It's kind of like the fruit of the month club for people under 65 (Speaking of FOTMC, how about H&D filing chapter 11...Grandchildren everywhere are crying because now they actually have to think about what to get Grandma and Grandpa for Hanukkah). I think that it would be such a pleasant surprise to come home to this once a month. "Oh flowers?!? Pour moi?!" It reminds me of the scene in Clueless (everything reminds me of a scene in Clueless) when Cher starts sending herself Chocolates and Flowers to make the fabulous Christian fall in love with her. Ladies are you listening? That's why boys fall in love with you, not because you look like Alicia Silverstone or have a closet full of white collarless shirts from Fred Segal. 

If you really wanted to go balls to the wall (I take full responsibility for my wording) you could do this in conjunction with Wine of The Month club. Who needs a boyfriend when you've got a delivery man? (Although our readers boyfriend from what I can tell is pretty fabulous...he drove his truck to pick up a set of free weights from me in a snowstorm at like 7am. She is a lucky lady)

Anyway, EPB, I hope this helps in your search for fabulousness (not like YOU of all people need my help!) When you decide what to do, you'll have to guest blog about it!!



Tuesday, March 29, 2011

Olives Are A Girl's Best Friend, A Special Post by A Special Friend

Good Afternoon Darlings,

Today, we have a guest blogger and she is fabulous. Her name is Leah and she is a superwoman of a lady. A legal assistant by day, her nights include: being the only tattooed Step Mom on her block in Narberth, drinking wine with old friends (me!!!!), going to fabulous parties, and working her bootay off towards (yet another) degree! Magical, this woman is!!! Today she writes about her love of olives and riding boots. I've known our guest for quite some time and like yours truly, she does have some strange eating habits. I remember that she used to eat raw tofu by the brick while we sat in the park. There are really four things I associate with Leah, foodwise :

1. Tofu
2. Grilled Cheese
3. LadyBug Red Wine
4. Cigarettes

She and I also have discussed opening our own boutique, with all in house made clothing of course. We have a wonderful name for it, and if I told you what it was, it would take all the fun out, right? But if anyone is interested in financially backing 2 wonderfully awesome, fabulous and smart women, I'll tell them the name.

So I hope you enjoy this, I laughed out loud numerous times.

Do you enjoy this as much as I do? Well check out to see more!

Olives and I have a special relationship. I buy them by the jarful, sit with a spoon and devour every last little delectable bit of them. On a daily basis.

I mean, it’s bad. When I was a child, my mother had to hide them and dole out only 10-15 a day. When holidays would come around I had to be watched or I would single handedly eat both bowls of olives on the table for the guests and our meal. And these holiday olives weren’t any old olives; they were queen sized olives. I never got queen sized olives.

My name is Leah, and I have a problem.

As I grew older, I realized the true versatility of olives. I can bake them into bread. I can make them into a tapenade. I could (I’m sure if I tried hard enough and acquired the requisite knowledge) make oil from them. I can put them in vodka (Ketel One only please) and then eat them (I mean, for someone who’s addiction to olives is this bad and loves her martinis: It. Does. Not. Get. Better.). I need olives to live.

This is similar to how I need my Bandolino riding boots. Yes, they are not high fashion or even real leather, but I love these boots.

I found them online about 4 years ago. I had to have them. I had to have them so badly that I took New Jersey Public Transit to the Cherry Hill Mall to the Macy’s that had the last pair of 7.5s in the continental U.S.

Now, the brown is a bit faded and scuffed and I’ve had them re-heeled and re-soled at least once a season, but they are perfect. I can wear them under jeans, and they look great. I can wear them with a ruffle-y ultra-fem dress and they look smashing. I can wear them with a suit and pearls and be court appropriate. I can wear them with everything and I do.

Oh, and the shade of brown goes with olive green extremely well ;-)

So thank Leah the next time you see her!!!!!


Monday, March 28, 2011

The art of dressing your own age

Good Morning Darlings,

I had a wonderful weekend which included a fabulous meet up with a dear old friend who now (unfortunately for me, but fabulous for her) calls the west coast home. She was in town for her boyfriend's brothers wedding and apparently it was quite a scene. First of all it took place on a boat, and there was booze involved. I would define this as a "booze cruise." And while booze cruises are probably the most fun thing you could ever possibly do while you are in college, I see no need to carry the tradition on any further.

The way S. tells it, the men (all approximately 38-42 years old) were wearing pastel oxfords and khakis. Here's the problem I have with this. Again, this look is great in college because you know that most boys still rely on their mothers to pick out any type of apparel for them that is to be worn to any type of kinda-sorta-maybe formal events. However, once we get past the point of cap and gown, it's completely unacceptable. It screams "I just roofied the jungle juice, even though I haven't been in a frat in 10 years." (Believe me, they were all in frats). The best part is that when this outfit comes on, all bets are off. Jaeger  shots become the norm for the evening and it is as if their date (at this point most likely wife and/or babymama) doesn't exist. This outfit is an outfit for the bros, not the ladies. The best (ahem, worst) part of this look are the accessories. This look usually comes complete with a pair of shiny black shoes (who told you you are allowed to wear black shoes with khakis? They are wrong and deserve to wear only polyester for the rest of their lives) that are usually too small and make the bro walk like this is his first time in dress shoes and he is attending his first middle school dance or something (not like I would know, I grew up in the city where we wore triplefivesoul hoodies and sambas to school dances).

Here's my first thought. It's a wedding, it's your friends wedding, and it's still not quite spring. Why not wear a jacket? A suit? A grey suit? Something appropriate for a daytime March wedding? Maybe you learn how to create an outfit not based on the likes and dislikes of your frat brothers? Maybe you flip through GQ once in a while, just to see what else is out there? I'm not getting my hopes up, you probably won't. But it would be nice if you did. And stopped doing shots of Jaeger at a wedding.

As for the ladies. Herve Leger makes bandage dresses. He should probably only make them in a size 2, because no one else looks good in them. I don't mean to sound mean, I mean I'm obviously not a size 2. There are plenty of other wonderful options for every type of body, but mini bandage dresses are not one of them. Your mini bandage dress is also almost certainly not made by Leger. It is made in a factory somewhere and the seams are all wrong and you are not wearing the correct undergarments. And your boobs are popping out, and the dress is ill fitting and are constantly tugging it down and you are wearing it with (I shudder at this thought) strappy sandals and maybe even nude hose. Excuse me while I go watch an episode of 'Saved by the bell' from 1992. Kelly Kapowski is the last person who could even think about getting away with that look. And you are creeping in on 40, and you might have a little more cellulite than you did when you were 23, and maybe a few varicose veins. It's okay ladies! We've all got that stuff! But the most important thing is that we learn how to dress ourselves so that we aren't flaunting it! And if you choose to include tendrils anywhere at all, well we can never be friends. ever.

All women should go out and invest in that one black dress that makes you feel fabulous. It's not going to be a minidress (I don't care how young or old you are), it's going to be tasteful and delicate. It's going to work for a wedding or the Orchestra on a Saturday night. It is going to make you feel like dancing in the middle of Broad Street.

And you will not wear a shrug with it. A shrug does nothing but accentuate the areas that aren't usually meant to be accentuated. You will have yourself a nice silk scarf that you can wrap around your shoulders. And if it is really cold, your date will offer you his jacket (which he will hopefully be wearing the next time you two go out). Your eyes will sparkle as he slips the beautifully tailored, silk lined jacket over your shoulders, and your senses will reignite when you smell his cologne on the collar. You will graciously thank him, take his hand, and put your nose in the air (where it belongs should you choose to follow my instructions).

What are my credentials? Well I guess I don't really have any. Unless you count being written up in the local news at the age of 18 for my outstanding style and trendsetting. Or years of Saturday school in design, or Parsons at the age of 17. Or my unfounded capability of maxing out credit cards by the age of 15 on nothing but costume jewelry and hot pink high heels.



Wednesday, March 23, 2011

Liz Taylor, the Queen of everything fabulous.

Good Morning Darlings,

I have some sad news (well via AP) The beautiful, talented, amazing Dame Elizabeth Rosemond Taylor has left our mere mortal earth.

She was a marvelous actress, but her life was even more spectacular. She lived without the fear of what other people would say about her, even though she was in the spotlight from such a young age. She did what she wanted when she wanted to do it, and if you didn't like it, c'est la vie.

She is one of the last living legends from her time. She embodies glamour like none of the Hollywood starlets today can. I mean, is there a Taylor/Burton sex tape? I think not! And, she really was before her time. She franchised herself and her fabulousness into a multimillion dollar company, complete with jewels and perfumes well before Ms. Spears and Ms. Hilton (did you know that Liz was married to Conrad Hilton? Her FIRST husband!!) were even born.

She was incredibly wealthy and married incredibly wealthy men. She probably has the largest and most valuable jewelry collection of any one private estate.

79 carats!
This is obviously only one piece. She had many of similar intensity. Richard Burton, her 5th (and 6th!!!) husband was notorious for buying her fabulous pieces of jewelry. He gave her a pearl that was once owned by Mary I of England. How many women can say that? Not many. But she took her love affair with jewels, and as silly as it sounds, made them available to the masses. I believe she was one of the first celebs to hawk their goods on QVC and make Jane Housewife feel like she too could be just as glamorous as her idols. I'm not being facetious here. I think that Liz was such an idol and inspiration to so many women around the world, that even feeling like you are wearing something similar to what she wears would be a great honour. 

But the legacy that she leaves that is most important (at least to me) is the work that she did with AIDs charities. For those of you who don't know, I have had this long running interest in AIDs (socially, not scientifically {because as much as I try, I don't understand it}), which sounds so strange, but is very true. I have read all about it, I read everything I can get my hands on. I think that it is fascinating, and incredibly upsetting at the same time. I don't know why I am so fascinated by it...but anyway, Liz did so much work with it.

What is amazing is that she was one of the pioneers of funding AIDs research and making sure that people knew that it was okay to be friends with people with HIV/AIDs. She helped start AMFAR and has her own Elizabeth Taylor AIDs fund. It is rumoured that her fund has raised over 70 million dollars to date. It gives me chills and is just incredible. She really took charge in the early days when nobody else (not our government, not her industry, not the doctors) would! Even ELTON credits her with starting the battle, and calls her "The Joan of Arc of AIDS funding."  (read more :

I think that it is amazing what this woman did with her life, and it is surely a sad day today. She will be missed by many who feel like they knew her through press, tv, and movies. She will be missed by those who she fought for when no one else would!

Go buy a bottle of white diamonds and spray it when you feel down and out and maybe a little bit of her spirit will enter the room and remind you of just how fabulous you are.


Thursday, March 17, 2011

Thoughts about People

Good Morning Darlings,

The thing about being fabulous is that it is always necessary to surround yourself with people who are just as fabulous as you are. That being said, I will say that I have some of the most fabulous friends around. They are all smart, interesting, and good looking to a fault. They all have fantastic jobs where they crunch numbers, hang out with Bono, or write things for people with too much money. We are twenty somethings and we love each other always.

I do have this one friend though. Yesterday he called me to complain about two things.

1. Why do you not have a new blog post up today?
2. Why do you not talk about me more often in your blog? 

My answers were as follows:

1. Because instead of writing my blog, I am video chatting you and letting you regale me with stories of the past week you spent in Paris doing nothing but drinking wine and smoking Galouises. 
2. Why don't I talk about you more? Why don't you write more songs about me? 

Maybe, those of you who know me can deduce from the nature of the conversation who I am talking about. For those of you who don't know him. His name is Jesse. He is my best friend. And he is incredibly needy sometimes. Oh did I mention that of all my friends fabulous jobs, his takes the cake?


That's right folks, a big record company pays him to sit around, eat burgers with his other rockstar friends and hand them some songs at the end of say I don't know, 6 months? Which is why, at the drop of a dime, he can decide to go to Paris for a week, just for fun. Sometimes when we talk, he has to run to go to meetings with his manager (who wears black denim and black on black sneakers, which totally and completely offends every single cell in my body). Also sometimes he wears skinny rust coloured jeans which I make fun of to the point of verbal murder. He lives in Brooklyn and has a cave in his room. Jimi Hendrix resides on the wall. Serious rockstarness. 

You are probably wondering how some little old personal assistant with a fabulous blog like myself could have ever ended up knowing such an awesome person...A ROCKSTAR. I guess it all started when we were both fat and wore glasses (and I had braces). At summer camp, which is where Jewish kids go to meet their lifelongfriends, obvi. And really we have been friends ever since he wrote my best a friend a list of 25 reasons why he (when he was 14) loved her. It's possible that he was contemplating complimenting her ample chest, and I'm pretty sure I talked him out of that one (even at 14, I had a little tact), which is probably why we are friends now. 

He has stopped asking me for advice on girls, only because we have very different "relationship ideals." But believe me, even though he has stopped asking me, I still give it to him. And fashion advice. I tell him that his deep v neck teeshirt from american apparel does nothing to highlight his cleavage, it only accentuates his chest hair and that if that is the look he is going for, he really ought to have a medallion. 

The other day (same day that he asked me why I wasn't writing about him) he told me that he bought a pair of sky blue skinny jeans. I almost had a heart attack (I just turned twenty five, IT IS NOW A LEGIT POSSIBILITY). Not only that, but he took his webcam and aimed it at his brand new belt buckle, which has a scorpion on it. 

Yes, I will repeat myself, a scorpion. I don't know if I'm in the minority, but to me, a poisonous predatory anthropod doesn't really equate to a hot makeout sesh, but more to a weirdo who probably also has tribal tattoos and possibly crabs. I'm not saying that he has crabs, but I AM saying that maybe we should pick the anthropods that we put near our groin more carefully in the future. 

But can I just tell you how much I love this kid? Seriously, through thick and thin he is always there. I really hope that every single one of you has a friend like him in your life, because if not relationships, what's the point of life? 

Anyway, here's my plug to his website : Buy his music and his merch so that one day he can buy me a house and a houseboy and a closet made of marble with my initials etched in the floor.


Tuesday, March 15, 2011

The 5th day of LCF, 25 years after her birth, and 2055 years after Julius Caesar's untimely death

Good Morning Darlings.

Well here it is...the first morning of my 25th year. I just looked in the mirror and spotted some new undereye (I can only hope it's by Goyard) baggage. Buuut I can't decide if it is actually having to do with my descent into my late twenties or if the bags were caused by the (3) impromptu glasses of Tempranillo I imbibed in at midnight last night.

I share a birthday with some of the greatest pop culture figures of all time including: Mark McGrath (making a comeback on Celebrity Apprentice, good for him), Mark Hoppus (swooon), FABIO (swooning harder), Dee Snider (We all know how much I love the 80s hair situation), and of course good old Andrew "Old Hickory" Jackson, who according to my fairly checkered memory of 11th grade American History, did a lot of stuff, but nothing that really mattered and was fairly wishy washy on his views and actions. So, a lot like me! But Happy 244th Birthday to him!

And then of course there was Julius. He overshadows my birthday almost as much as Pi Day overshadows a March 14th baby. So sad for us.

So I thought that maybe instead of doing food/fashion/vice, which I will continue on and off from now on, I would just make a list of the twenty five things that I cannot live without (well, I'm sure I could live without them, but you understand what I mean...what I cannot live without relative to my life). I implore you to do one as well and share it with me and the readers!!!

1. Sushi - Not the nuvo fake sushi. I like my sushi with rice, seaweed, and fish. Once in a while, I'll get the spicy sauce. But come on. Fried sushi? It's not real. It's like McDonads sushi. And I also always make them make my rolls outside in, because I'm not really sure when every freaking roll became inside out, but when I started eating sushi at the ripe old age of 12 months, I can tell you that this was not the case.
2. Argon Oil - This stuff is incredible. I use in in my hair and on my skin. It is the stuff that dreams are made of. It takes the frizz away and makes your skin glow. It is light weight and smells so delicious. Even better is that all of the argan oil on the market today is made by a Women's cooperative in Morocco, and provides three million jobs annually to create a more equal workplace culture in Morocco.
3. Asian Supermarkets -  I can't imagine living somewhere void of Asian markets. They are the most interesting and useful places. Where else can you get a huge bag of baby bok choy for $1.29? I'll tell you where you cannot get it - the SuperFresh or the Shaws. Sure, you can get "exotic" vegetables, but be prepared to pay an exotic price as well. You can leave here with fresh (I'm talking heads being chopped off in front of you fresh) fish, sauces that you didn't know existed, a ton of fresh produce, and every kind of noodle you can imagine. And usually I get out of there for less than $50. For a weeks worth of groceries! I also love to check out the frozen section for frozen shumai and coconut ice pops!
4. Tory Burch Reva flats - Okay, okay. The big medallion is kind of icky. It screams logo whore and I understand that...but here's the thing. I live in the city. I don't like wearing sneakers often and I walk everywhere. In the winter, I wear boots - cowboy boots, riding boots, motorcycle boots...but in the spring, you want to look cute and be practical at the same time. Reva's are amazing. They have absolutely no support, but somehow they stay comfortable all day long. I walk 4 miles a day to and from work and I am none the sorer when I get home after wearing these babys all day. I have a pair in gold, a pair in black, and my new faves - the fuschia on fuschias.
5. Big Nylon Totes - I used to carry the big longchamp. But then they went and changed dimensions on me and I couldn't get back into the swing of things. So for a while there, I was without a tote...buut then one day my boss gave me this great big Tumi bag. AND IT WORKS. My gym stuff, lunch, and school books fit in it AT THE SAME TIME. It is a fabulous bag and I can't believe how easily it contains my life's contents. For a time, I was carrying an old Kate Spade diaper bag and that worked wonders as well.   I guess I just cannot be without big nylon totes. Nothing else fits everything!
6. Seltzer - There is absolutely nothing better than a huge glass of ice cold seltzer over crushed ice with half a lemon. Nothing.
7. Spanish Reds - Is there anything better than a Spanish red? A little Rioja, a little Tempranillo, a mix of a few varietals perhaps? They are tasty, cheap, and reminiscent of a place on the map where wine costs less than water and the clubs stay open until 7 am.
8. Havaianas - Rubber flip flops made chic. I am the first to admit that come April 1st, these little pieces of heaven are on my feet more than anything else. I love the versatility of a rubber flip flop and they are just so entirely comfortable. Yes, they are like 6x more expensive than the Old Navy ones...but I ask you to just try a pair once and see the difference. My suggestion is to order a pair of the mens tops, they have a thinner sole which I like.
9. Noxema - Tried and true. Works in winter and summer. Smells like a hospital, which is gross but kind of endearing as well.
10. Tennis/Zumba/Boxing/Pilates - This year, I have learned that the best medicine for whatever is ailing you is really working out. I love working out. I love the way it makes me feel while I'm doing it and after I'm done. I love the tiny bit of definition it has given to my otherwise doughy (but still lovable) physique. I am looking forward to the summer and to playing tennis on a more regular basis.
11. The Ocean  - The best beauty product.
12. Nivea Original Cream mixed with Loreal Sublime Bronze - This is my all over mixture, which I use every day in the winter to keep that certain bronzed look that I cannot live without. Nivea is my favourite lotion, I love the clean smell and the incredible thickness of the lotion itself. This only works at night before bed. You have to have an old robe that you don't mind getting a little messy with tanner. If you mix the two potions, (3 parts nivea, 1 part bronze),  and sit in your robe while watching Bethenny drinking margaritas or Mikey Isabella making meatballs, you will wake up in the morning feeling like a goddess like version of your best self. I promise.
13. Bluecoat Gimlets - A few years ago I traded in the dirty Sapphire martini for this little lady. I like mine with half roses and half fresh lime and I like it served in a coup. After three of these little ladies, I am flying high. They are best served with oysters or a really bloody piece of meat. But to be honest, I'll drink them with anything...or nothing at all!
14. Contemporary American Novels - Roth, Updike, Mailer, Wright...these are the men that keep the sanity going in my life...maybe because they were all so insane?
15. Vogue (aka The Bible) - Anna Wintour, Andre Leon Talley, and Grace Coddington. The team to beat in my opinion.
16. Maine Teen Camp - My first love. The most amazing place on the planet full of love, life, and laughter. There is no reason to grow up when you can stay young here forever.
17. My Ipod - Full of crazyness that keeps me going on my walk to work and on the weekends. Just to name a few items. If you want to know what I'm listening to right now --- just ASK!
18. Chanel No. 5 - My scent. The combination of no.5 and my ultimate vice, smokes, make me smell like a french prostitute. And that's the way I like it.°5-88109
19. OPI Big Apple Red - My nail colour.
20. Fake Eyelashes - I use fake eyelashes on all special occasions. I get them put on at MAC. Sometimes I ask to look like a drag queen and other times, like Kim Kardashian (okay, so there's not so much difference between the two). They do an amazing job and if you're really lucky, they will do your eye makeup too!
21. Adidas Sambas - My favourite kick around sneaks. Classic, but not too hip.
22. Fresh Sugar Rose Balm - A tinted kick of rose and mint. Leaves your lips feeling shiny, but not sticky and moist but not greasy. A definite must have.
23. Bain de Soleil - My favourite sun "protectant." It's orange gelee smell always reminds me of my mother and her fabulously tanned skin. Growing up, that was her scent. I can still imagine her in a sarong and bain de soleil. In the winters, I dab in behind my ears, just for a bit of the scent.
24. Capri Blue Candles - The scent is clean and refreshing, Aloha Orchid. They make your room smell like a little beach.
25. Friends - To all of the people who I have known and loved over the past 25 years, it will be hard to find a bunch as amazing as you in the next 25.


Monday, March 14, 2011

The 4th Day (Yea, I take the weekends off) of LCF

Good Morning Darlings,

Today I present to you on the day before my 25th birthday, the guilty side of LCF...The day of guilty pleasures.


There are so many foods in the guilty pleasures category that I could mention. I love trashy food. From my father, I have an undeniable love for filet-o-fish from McDonalds. From my mother, diet coke and york peppermint patties. But the guilty pleasure that is truly mine is derived from my father's mother, my Bubby. In the Fox family, there is a time honoured tradition of snacking in front of the refrigerator. This is obviously because the calories don't count when you eat standing up, or while contemplating what to eat next. Our favoured thing to much on is...Deli Sliced white American. Just peel a slice off the pile while you are figuring out what to cook for dinner, or serve at your next party. This is the stuff serious family traditions are made of. To me, there is nothing better than a few slices of American cheese and an "orange scott" (orange juice and seltzer, named for my father who introduced this combination to me at a young age) (along with American cheese, our family has a weird obsession {which also seems to be a Jewish thing} with seltzer. I could drink it by the gallon, on ice with lemon. Sometimes people make fun of me for ordering it when we go out.) 

But here's my dirty little secret. I go one step further than American Cheese. 

"My name is Lyndsey and I am in love with processed american singles. in a plastic wrapper."

Listen, before you start judging me, I will have you know that one of the things that I most admire about myself is my ability to love all cheeses. There are days that I crave the most pungent, expensive cheese that I can get my hands on. But, there are other days when all I want to do is take three slices of plastic wrapped cheese out of the refrigerator, grab an apple, sit in front of the television and alternate bites of apple with bites of cheese. I love the ritual of peeling back the wrapper. I love the salty, distinct flavour. It never changes. I do not condone starting to eat these foul, plastic things...but if you have already begun your love affair with them, please by all means, ENJOY.

You are all probably thinking...Oh I know exactly what Lyndsey's fashion guilty pleasure is...sequins. 

WRONG. I love sequins and shoulder pads and plastic earrings and I see nothing wrong with it. In fact, I have no guilty pleasures when it comes to fashion because I love everything and I have no apologies for anything that I wear. If I was wearing dunderwear (denim-underwear, you know the really really short shorts that noone short of a real housewife of Miami should be wearing), I would apologize. But I don't.  I pride myself in wearing only what  I want to wear when  I want to wear it. If I want to wear my chefs coat over a tutu skirt, I'm gonna do it and I'm gonna love it. If  I want to show up to brunch in torn up yoga pants and a hoodie with bed hair, I'm gonna embrace it and it's going to be amazing. I won't even apologize for leaving the house sans makeup. You know why? Because I am fabulous. You are fabulous. We are all fabulous. Fashion is not something that we should use to hide behind, but rather something that we should manipulate in order to make a more exciting version of ourselves, no matter what "look" we are going for. 

In my last year of college, I read a lot about the Shah's reign in Iran in the early 80s. The women went from being able to wear whatever they pleased to having to wear a hijab and burka whenever they were out in public in a very short period of time. It seemed to me that taking away their right to wear what they wanted also took away their right to be who they wanted. I think it would be quite an adjustment for the older women who were so used to expressing themselves through their wardrobe. Obviously the lack of freedom of wardrobe was the least of the Iranian's worries during that time period, but it did serve as a mirror for all of the other vicious and arbitrary decisions of the Shah.

We are lucky as American women to have the freedom to express ourselves the way we see fit. We are allowed to hang with the boys in our power suits, wear a chain mail dress (if we so desire) in public, walk around in men's clothing (Thanks, Diane) or take our clothes off in order to pay for college or support a family. 

It reminds me of one of my favourite song lyrics of all time, by none other than the most womanly woman out there, Ani. 

i wish they could see us now
in leather bras and rubber shorts
like some ridiculous new team uniform
for some ridiculous new sport
quick someone call the girl police
and file a report

So I guess what I mean to say is that fashion is all about loving who you are. There are no guilty pleasures in fashion, only pleasures*.

*Except for crocs and pajama jeans. Those are unforgivable sins. 


I often sit back and imagine how things were before there was cable and internet and I find myself thinking "Wow, I would get so much done if I didn't have endless amounts of mindless reading and 500 channels to keep me company all the time." I imagine a world where my writing would be much better, my painting more focused, and my organization top notch. I imagine a world where keeping up with the joneses is something for people who have nothing better to do. I imagine a world where I am a creative soul sitting in a man's shirt with a cigarette in one hand, a paintbrush in the other and a penchant for all things avant garde. (This is also pretty much what my mother prayed for every night that she was pregnant with me.) 

But, this is not that age. And I am constantly surrounded by pop culture. And unfortunately,

"My name is Lyndsey and I am addicted to the Real Housewives Franchise."

I have this man to blame for A. Stealing my dream job and B. Bringing this CRAPOLA into my life.

Andy Cohen may have the 411, but he also gets my 10P-11P hour every night. Mr. Cohen, your awful exploitation of women with too much plastic surgery and (I never thought it was possible) too many pairs of Louboutins makes me sick to my stomach and incredibly excited at the same time. This is a sensation that I have no desire to get rid of at any point in the near future. Sometimes I can sit and watch an episode and I am so mesmerized by the sheer blondeness of some of these women. I am not talking about the "dumb" factor, I am talking about how amazingly blonde their hair is. I had no idea hair like that existed outside of the playboy mansion. Hair like that is a full time job. The maintenance of the colour alone probably takes 6 hours a week. Not to mention travel time to and from the salon in your Rover for blowdrys and makeup applications. Really the show should be called "My Life is So Hard in Orange County." 

I love all of the franchises except Atlanta and DC (did anyone watch it?). All of the women bring something a little different to the table. But seriously, New York, New Jersey, Beverly Hills, Orange County,'s like a rainbow of sparkles and velour comes through my television every night. A nice break from reality, sure...but I think I will start watching it with a paintbrush in my hand and a glass of pernot in the other.


Friday, March 11, 2011

The 3rd Day of LCF

Hello Darlings

On this, the 3rd day of my narcissistic indulgence, I bring you extravagant LCF.


My mother is a carnivore. If she had been a dinosaur, she would have been the Adasaurus. They are about the same height and weight and they both are carnivorous. If my mother read this blog, at this point, she would say

 "I can't believe you are comparing me to a dinosaur this soon after you write about your love of pearls! Where did you come from?!?"

Now, while it's true that my mother and I are extremely close, there are certain things that we disagree on. For instance, she hates my pearls. She was a hippie. When she smells my chanel, she'll say things like

"When I was your age, I wore Patchouli and smoked pot." 

And I laugh and hug her, but on the inside I am very scared because nothing scares me more than the smell of Patchouli. Patchouli indicates lack of shower and possibly more body hair than I approve of and I am big on personal hygeiene. And although I don't necessarily condone following trends that don't appeal to you, the "trend" of shaved armpits in America dates back to a marketing campaign from 1915 beginning in Harpers Bazaar. I would say that is damn good marketing. 

I'm not joking around with this.

Okay, Okay I regress. Another thing that mom and I do not agree on is our cuts of meat. She loves her filet, while I think that it is probably the most flavorless, overrated cut of meat. I tend to go for the fattier things, you know - the bellys and such. But when it comes to a good steak...All I ever want is a big delicious NY Strip. I have had good ones and I have had bad ones. And let me tell you something --- the good ones are like heaven. I don't think there is any other food that I will pay more than 50 bucks to come to my table completely bare save for a sprig of parsley and a black handled knife. And darlings, I'm a purist, I like my steak rare to the point of almost bloody. I love the charred outside and the meaty raw inside. There is absolutely nothing like it. Give me a NY Strip and a bluecoat gimlet (half fresh lime, half Rose's in case you were wondering), and I'm your girl. If I ever have inside information, I hope the CIA is not reading this blog, because I will totally spill the beans for that perfect combo.


Hermes Scarves. They cost more than anything that will not keep you warm in December should cost. But they are the most beautiful pieces of art. When I wear mine, I feel like a million bucks. I never want to take it off. Hermes captures an elegant life within the confines of four "walls." The silk is incredible, and the designs make you want to jump into the scarves and live within the rippling waves or the luscious pastures. I think that every woman should have at least one of these in her lifetime. It's hard for me to verbalize the thrill you get when you wear one, but do me a favour...the next time you are near an Hermes, go in and just smell the aroma and feel the silk and then come back and tell me that you didn't almost spend your rent money on one of these gems.


style # U075055U
These are my extravagant vice. Clocking in at an appropriate $155/pair, these are definitely not the most expensive jeans out there. Buuut, I will date myself and say that when I started buying them they only cost $120. Inflation...well you know the rest. Jeans are one of those things that you wear often as an American. So it's not a big deal to spend the money because you know you will get so much wear out of them. These jeans fit me so well. I love the classic cut, the not too low waist, and the distinct ungaudiness of the back pocket. They are a vice only because they rip. The denim is not of the highest quality and after about 18 months of wear, you notice that first little worn down section...and then another...and then another. BUT they are so well fitting that I can't not buy them. I may have a problem..please help!!!



Thursday, March 10, 2011

The 2nd Day of LCF



My most glamorous food love are oysters. Now, I wouldn't tend to consider oysters a glamorous food, especially considering how you have to open them and eat them. And I'm not talking any kind of oysters, I'm talking raw oysters (the only way to eat them in my opinion). I guess that any thing that may at some point involve a very spectacular pearl IS kinda glam, huh? Anyway, I could eat raw oysters for every meal of the day. There's a place in town and they have an Oyster Hour every M-F from 5-7 and Oysters are only ONE DOLLAH. And you can eat as many of them as you can for two whole hours. And they are just insanely delicious, briny, and satisfying. Sometimes, when I've had a few too many gimlets, I find it necessary to order a dozen oysters to go with whatever meal (or lack there of) that I am indulging in. 


Pearls. How I love pearls. A strand of pearls tells the world, "I don't need your silly trends, I know exactly who I am." People who know me know that it is indeed a rare occurrence when I am not adorned somehow with pearls. Some are real, yes, but many are faux. They are timeless. Pearl studs make your face glow even when you are feeling not so glow-y. Pearls go with that perfect little black dress, but they also go with a tank and jeans. Pearls are easy to find and they last a lifetime. You never have to worry about looking great, because they add that extra special something that really takes any look over the edge and into the realm of easy chic. Pearls also look great in singles or multiples. A fabulous multi-strand bib of pearls looks amazing on top of a simple black tutu dress, but so does a single strand. Perhaps it sounds silly to most, but pearls are probably one of the most utilitarian pieces in my wardrobe. Ladies, do yourself a favor and invest in a single strand and a pair of studs and tell me you don't feel just a little more like batting your eyelashes at the cute barista when you are wearing them. 



I hate to insist Sofia is a vice. But I suppose as it is alcoholic and it has spun me into one or a few nights of too much fun turning into too many tears, it has to be considered a vice. Now, this is not the best sparkling wine you will ever taste. That's not questionable. But it is probably the best sparkling wine you will ever taste to come out of a pink can. Complete with a pink straw. Just like an ecto cooler. But instead of Slimer, it has beautiful vines strewn across the packaging. It doesn't matter that it costs 10x what it should because of the's a conversation piece. People always want to know what you are drinking. It's way fun when you are at a house party and talking to a stud and they ask if you want another drink to say "Oh yea, if you wouldn't mind getting me another can of champagne from the icebox, and would you mind lighting my Gauloises while you're at it?"

tata for now. 


The art of fashion at a sporting event

Good Morning Darlings,

Last night, via text, I received my first question for the blog.

It comes from Stacy M. from Santa Monica (I know, I've got readers all over the place!). Stacy asks,

"What does one wear to an NBA game?"

Well Stacy M., that is a great question and I just happen to know the answer (or my own personal 
answer) to that question because last night, I attended my first NBA game since high school! 

The thing is, for most sporting events it's rather easy to decide what to wear as the weather dictates it for you. 

MLB? Tank, bermudas, chucks, and a baseball hat!
NFL? Puffy jacket, flannel lined jeans (I know I know), Eskimo hat, and as many hand warmers as you can fit into your medium sized Longchamp.

But the NBA is a different beast entirely. It's a sport that goes from winter to spring, and it's indoors. Climate control. You have very few things to blame bad fashion on when a sporting event is indoors. But I believe there are a few rules that hold true for sporting events in general, so let's cover those first.

1. Heels are never appropriate. Ever.

2. Makeup should be kept to a minimum. This is not a fashion show. Or a club in Jersey.

3. If you want to rock the team spirit, more power to you, but seriously DO IT LIKE A MAN. The pink girls team attire is sickening and screams "I'm only here because I'm trying to impress a man." Dreadful.

4. The climate changes in a big stadium, sometimes it's hot, sometimes it's cold. Pretend you are going to San Francisco. Layer. Layer. Layer.

5. Wear something you don't mind spilling (very expensive, very watery) beer on. Why? Because it's going to happen. 

6. Make sure that your hair is not too big. I'm okay with big hair, I appreciate it and as a Jew, I embrace it myself. But you have only paid for a ticket for yourself, not yourself and your hair. If I can't see that hot piece of baller on the court because your hair is too big, I will probably be really upset...and I will probably find out where you live, come to your house, and steal your aquanet. So girls, put the aerosol can away and pick the flat iron up. Have a little respect for those who have to sit behind you all night. 

7. Make sure to cover those undereye circles cause you never know when you are going to see your face on the big screen in the middle of the stadium.

So what did I end up wearing last night? Nothing exciting. Just some old Sevens, a pair of fuschia patent tory burch flats, a black boat neck 3/4 sleeve cotton top, and an army green jacket. I accessorized with a big navy pashmina, minimal jewels, straight hair, and lots of mascara (but nothing else). 

I am more than happy to field your questions! Ask Away!!!


Wednesday, March 9, 2011

The 12 days of LCF

Good Morning Darlings,

Today on my way to work it hit me that in 6 days,  I in fact will turn 25. "Ho Hum," I thought to myself "What have I really done with these 25 years?"

While I have not become a CEO of an international company, a world renowned fashion designer or Axl Rose's wife, I have learned how to style my entire self quite well. Laugh all you want, but some people pay  lots of money to have someone tell them what to wear every morning. I am lucky enough to have been blessed with this talent (jack of all trades, master at none...except MAYBE this one) and I love it when people ask me for advice or line up on Van Pelt street when they hear I am having a purging session (I'm looking at you, twin). "So here's what I'll do," I thought, "I'll indulge myself in my followers in what I like to call fashion/food/vice."

What is fashion/food/vice? It is my way of packaging myself into twelve days. Twelve days of classic LCF  foods, fashions, and of course, vices.  Perhaps by the time I turn 35, we can remove the vice portion of this column.

Let's start today with Classic LCF

Starbucks, Venti Americano with half and half and 2 packets of the pink stuff

As far back as I can remember, this has been my drink. I care not to think about all of the money that I have spent on this beverage. I only care to think of it's four glorious shots of espresso that can singlehandedly get me through most every day.  And yes, I consider this not only one of the most important parts of my day but a part of my nutrient intake for the day. To me caffeine is just another essential antioxidant that goes into my body. I don't consider it a vice, I consider it a lifeline. 

Ray Ban Original Aviator

These have been my signature sunglass for almost ten years. It's true that I occasionally cheat on them with other glasses (these do not do a great job of hiding a seven martini night the next morning), but the aviators have been with me through thick and thin. I have lost and bought about four pairs, and each time  it's totally worth it. You can wear these sunnies with jeans and flip flops or a cocktail dress. They work for daytime and nighttime (cue Corey Hart). They look great with a tan and don't leave burn marks. They are carefree and easy. They may go in and out of fashion, but as I like to tell my mother

"When you have personal style, the trends have to catch up to you, not vice versa."


I am not condoning smoking. This is why it is in the vice section. But if you want a habit that turns your teeth and
fingernails yellow and gives you wrinkles...these are the way to go.

Ah, Gauloises Blondes. What can I say? They are fabulous cigarettes, not only because they taste good but because whenever you have them in public, other smokers envy you. You see, you can't get these babys in the states any more. France has stopped importing any kind of tobacco products to us. When someone is smoking a Gauloises, you know that they've been somewhere that you can get them. Now, this is not actually saying much because you can get them in just about every single duty free shop anywhere (and they are dirt cheap). But it's almost like having the newest Birkin bag. People wonder how you got it and who you know! I mean, I'm not really comparing cigarettes to Hermes. I would give up all cigarettes for the rest of my life for a Birkin. But in the mean time, I will stick with my Gauloises any time I can get my (cat) paws on them. 

And there you have it. The first day of LCF. Tomorrow look out for the second day of LCF...Glamorous . 


Wednesday, March 2, 2011

Monsieur Galliano Apologizes

Good Morning Darlings,

At the suggestion of an old friend, I have decided to give my two cents about this whole monstrosity that is the Galliano nightmare.

As a Jew living in the present day in a metropolitan East Coast locale, I must say that I do not feel any sort of negative feelings toward myself  nor my religion on a daily basis.  I have never felt bad about who I was in terms of my religion. Although I grew up in a city and went to public school for my entire life (pre college), pretty much all of my friends were Jewish. And when I went to camp for the summer, being Jewish was normal. Those who weren't Jews were the minority.

And I don't mean to sound ignorant. I understand that most people do not grow up where I grew up and didn't go to school with a class that was made up of as many nationalities and ethnicities as I did. But what I am ignorant to is the reason certain people hate other people so much based solely upon one facet of that person. To me, the idea of hating someone because they are something having nothing to do with you is impossible to figure out. What is the reason? My best friend moved to Nashville after college. Having been raised in an environment much like mine, he was incensensed when he moved and realized that things are not the same everywhere.

Hate on a more acute level is understandable to me. Hate such as "I hate the new Cavalli studded thong por hommes" is okay with me. In a colloquial sense, it expresses an opinion. Rarely do people realize how strong the word hate is when using it in this manner, and even rarer is the individual who will ask "Do you really hate the thong? Or is it just not your taste?"  Personally I prefer to loathe something rather than hate it. I try to reserve hate for when it is absolutely necessary.
For instance,

"I loathe the look of dark lipliner paired with nude gloss"

"I hate Bernie Madoff for what he did to his victims."

Do you see the difference?

But this little tangent is really not the point. I want to talk about a more obtuse kind of hatred. One that encompasses lives and takes no prisoners. A type of hatred that is sometimes sudden but more, insidious. A type of hatred that sometimes includes violence but always includes the creation of bad feelings. Did you ever realize that there is never a victor to come out of hate? The victims are not victorious, they are not happy that they are hated because of the way that they were born. The haters are not victorious. Even when they stand outside measly high school productions of the Laramie Project with signs that say the most vicious things, they have to go home. I'm going to take a guess and say that usually they don't bring anyone new home with them. And what do they celebrate when they get home? What do they think about? The snicker of the proud parents who walk past them and think to themselves, "Do these grown people have nothing better to do than to try ruin my child's performance?" Do they go home and celebrate the fact that they are Arian, heterosexual, and void of any compassion for people that are different than they are? Are they content living a life that is so plain and mild and boring that they have nothing better to do than pick on someone whose hair color they don't like?

So here's the thing. We all don't have to love each other. But I'm not going to not love you because you are black or straight or gay or Episcolpalian or Korean or Canadian or Jewish or any other birthright. Because that is not who you are. It is a part of who you are, but an entirely superficial one most of the time. 

Because sure, I am Jewish. I categorize myself as Jewish all the time. But is that who I am entirely? Lyndsey Claire Fox, Jew.? 

No. I am Lyndsey Claire Fox, daughter, sister, designer, cook, lover, creator, reader, writer, painter, indulger, lush, charmer, explorer, entertainer, and believer. I am judgmental, stubborn, idealistic, anxious, nosy, insecure, dependent, proud, bitchy, (sometimes) vulgar, calculating, indecisive, diplomatic, romantic, tolerant, observant, engaging, forgiving, caring, and cheeky. 

I am more adjectives than I can tolerate in one post!!! And so are you. And so are the people that hate you, but they have no time to realize that because they are too busy making signs with hateful words and shameful messages and talking to each other about how much they hate you. 

I don't hate these people, I feel sorry for them. I feel sorry that they cannot expand their minds enough to find a spirit of their own that takes them out of the realm of hate and into the realm of understanding...the age of aquarius or something like that. 

Anyway, I do not know Mr. Galliano, but I am sure that before he was the John Galliano that he is today, he too suffered a prejudiced life. He is fifty years old, which would have made it about 1980ish when he would have come out to his (Spanish) family. I can't imagine that this was an easy task. I can't imagine that it would have been something that his family was entirely comfortable with either. I mean, I obviously have no idea what the actual story is, but in my mind, it seems like sometimes people who have had to deal with oppression in their lives take it out on other minority groups (another idea that is entirely far from my personal grasp).  

His comments, which I will not repeat on this blog nor does anyone REALLY know the context in which they were said, were entirely awful. But is it any of our business what he does when he's drunk and angry? Should he have said those things? Absolutely not. Is he aware that he is a public figure and that anything he says can and will be used against him? I surely hope so, but I guess alcohol does strange things to people. 

So how can we amend situations like this? Dior fires Galliano, citing a no tolerance policy, Natalie Portman stands up for herself because she has ties to Galliano through her campaign with Dior, but all the while it doesn't take any of the hate out of Galliano. Doesn't Dior or Portman want to why Galliano is full of this wretched hate toward Jews? Don't they think that something must be wrong to have this brilliant, talented, almost regal designer say these things about one certain type of person? 

I mean, if you've made it this far, bless you. I've got to go and drop out of school now.

Love you all and can't wait to hear YOUR thoughts.