BabsieD

My Christmas List: R. Nichols New Prints

2011-11-27T23:22:00.004-05:00

Seriously. Search this blog for "R. Nichols" and you'll get approximately 1 bajillion listings on the fabulously fashionable stationer. I am obsessed. Because he's witty and ridiculously talented and always has the perfect card (or luggage tag or mug or magnet) for every occasion, and also because he's kind and hilarious and wonderful and includes lollipops with purchase.

But for Cyber Monday, he's upgrading his gifts with purchase a bit: you get a free 11" x 14" print with any $100 purchase.

I'm getting this one:Because I'm easily dropping $100 on his D.C. Holiday card collection.

My Christmas List: Walter Isaacson/Steve Jobs

2011-11-23T14:42:00.003-05:00

One of the things that is uniquely Washington: our huge love for book parties. Political, Chick-Lit, Historical: it matters not. We (royal, city-wide we) love a signed book on our shelves. My treasured signed books include Tom Wolfe, Candace Bushnell, Jill Kargman (complete with a dedication to my sister and I!) and Zadie Smith, who signed my dog-eared, much-read and loved copy of White Teeth with the inscription "Stop reading books in the bath."

So, chances are, you were going to buy a copy of Steve Jobs for somebody. Father, brother, self, techie aunt. But on Sunday, Walter Isaacson will be at Barnes & Noble Georgetown starting at 4pm signing copies, making you the coolest person to the above-mentioned list this holiday.See you there--I'll be the one the the gigantic stack.

My Christmas List: H.Bloom

2011-11-22T20:08:00.007-05:00

They are a client. But I am totally obsessed.
When we first met with H.Bloom, the (surprisingly affordable) floral subscription delivery service, they explained that part of their target market is people who love flowers, who buy flowers every week at the grocery store, and are never quite satisfied with their purchase. In other words: me.

The difference between H.Bloom and said cellophaned flowers sitting next to the produce in those sad buckets: HUGE. Their Arrange Your Own collection ($29--INCLUDING DELIVERY) includes varietals that you'll never find on your own, and is enough for about 2-1/2 arrangements. And there are weekly online videos to teach you how to make them look amazing.

Their Classic ($35), Contemporary ($48) and Exotic ($65) arrangements are beyond beautiful (there are others; those are just my favorites).

So for Christmas, I think my gift for myself is going to be an Arrange Your Own subscription every two weeks, and then a Contemporary subscription in alternating two week increments. I'll look like a genius, old-money hostess. You'll be jealous. End scene.

My Christmas List: McQueen at The Met

2011-11-21T17:29:00.005-05:00

The best gift I gave to myself this year was a day off to see the Alexander McQueen exhibit at The Met. It was a glorious New York summer day; it was the first time in a long time that art has brought me to tears.

Meanwhile, two women in our office with apparently MUCH better karma headed up the final Saturday of the exhibit, and while buying the exhibit book were asked, "Are you going to the book signing?". They followed the pointed finger of the docent which led them to a private, 300-person signing with Anna Wintour and exhibit curator Andrew Bolton. So lucky. So jealous.

ANYHOO, the greatest under $20 gift you can give to the fashion lover in your life: the McQueen at the Met 2012 Wall Calendar.

$16.95 plus shipping ($15.25 for MET members), with 25% off if you buy a second.

My Christmas List: Lady Gaga at Barneys New York

2011-11-20T22:58:00.007-05:00

There are so many very fantabulous things for the holidays this year, some client-related, some not, so what the hell, thought I'd post them here.

First up: Gaga's Workshop Stiletto Stocking from Barneys New York:

There have been 12 days of Gaga online at Barneys.com leading up to their huge Gaga holiday rollout on the 5th floor of the store (she'll be at the store-on 60th between Mad & 5th-tomorrow night to open up the workshop); this is definitely the best gift in the lot. I got mine yesterday: it's vinyl but is quite awesome, and 25% of the proceeds benefit her anti-bullying charity. $65 with free shipping and giftwrap.

District Sample Sale

2010-08-11T23:51:00.002-05:00

tickets on sale today, 10am at www.districtsamplesale.com. This is the season we cross the $200,000 mark of donations to our charities (which now number NINE!). Hope you can join us!

Pimpin'

2010-07-22T16:49:00.003-05:00

So tonight, I'm kicking these off my feet and we're heading out to see The Pimps of Joytime at DC9. Which, in addition to perhaps being the greatest named band of all time, is also just about the most funkalicious.

We found them in the middle of Snowmageddon, when our killer band we hired from Austin to play for an amazing launch party on our client's rooftop had to cancel once all their flights were cancelled (as well as everyone else's everywhere). In the absolute chaos leading up to that night (I was snowed in at our client hotel for two days: Eloise, plus Dark & Stormies), we came across these guys, and I danced around my room for two days of pure glee (plus Dark & Stormies). They couldn't make it either in the snow. But someday I will hire them to play just for me, perhaps for my birthday. Love.

So anyway. Go. Tickets are $10, I think $12 at the door.

Art Worth Dusting For

2010-07-21T17:52:00.008-05:00

My office is covered in R. Nichols artwork. At our entrance is a 55" canvas called "Shopper"; my personal office has two of his signed DC pieces; my birthday invites are always R. Nichols. I even cook from The French Women Don't Get Fat Cookbook.* The fact that he's one of my BFFs does not take away from the fact that he is the coolest, most fashionable, most fantastic artist ever. Just ask the stationery people at Neiman Marcus, where I've seen normally genteel women in near fisticuffs over them (nevermind the time I nearly came to blows with a rather famous DC socialite over a few of his works. Preeeety sure she still hates me to this day for it. Awes).

So next week, on July 28, when Nick's original artworks go on sale here at noon sharp, I suggest you get there at 12:00:01, lest your favorite piece be gone (such as his special DC piece--he's based out of L.A. now, but grew up here). And trust me, go it will.

Here's your special sneak peek:

*And fine, that's a lie of fair proportions. It does look lovely on my cookbook shelf, however, next to Be My Guest, The I'll Take Manhattan JL Cookbook, RSVP and, of course, Silver Palette. All equally beautiful, all equally dusty. Not unlike this blog.

The Front Row

2009-05-09T15:50:00.001-05:00

In case your invite didn't arrive today...

Gossip for you...

2009-04-09T21:41:00.004-05:00

Bliss Spa in DC opens July 8. Four treatment rooms, so if you want to be one of the first, you'll have to book EARLY (reservation line isn't open yet).

Christian Siriano will be here on May 15, as a VIP guest for Bethesda Row's style event called The Front Row. Good luck scoring a VIP ticket.

Speaking of, the event will be featuring fall fashion previews, style-focused book parties, trunk shows, designer appearances, and beauty events, from May 14-16. It's going to rock.

Harriet Kassman's 40% off clearance sale still has some goodies left--worth the trip to get a current season Armani suit for almost HALF.

Bruno Grizzo is coming to Hu's Wear on May 13, he of the fabulous Brazilian line.

That's it for now!

District Sample Sale: March 18

2009-03-15T10:23:00.002-05:00

We're so excited about coming back to Georgetown for our fifth event! Hope to see you there!

5 Random Things About FB

2009-02-25T19:24:00.013-05:00

I went to visit my hometown this weekend. It's a small (yet incredibly picturesque) little Jersey town about an hour from New York and Philadelphia, equally populated by farmers and commuters.

The pizza and bagels were worth the trip alone; the necklace I scored from a little store called Wears & Wears for $39 was the icing on the cake. And that was before I got to spend three days curled up with my three bestest friends that I've known since grade eight. That was just beyond compare.

Anyhoo, we went to a reunion of sorts, the kind that have been happening across the country apparently, courtesy of Facebook. I hadn't been back in about 15 years, so I wasn't even expecting people to remember me at all. We ended up having a great time, closing down our little redneck bar, rehashing memories with people from our collective past; sitting around the same tables around which we all used to sit, just with 80's hair.

So back to Facebook. It's such a weird sense of familiarity it gives, as we now know a whole new level of the mundane about each other, and we now chat with people instantly and quickly, and about so many random things. And the bonding it gives isn't all a complete facade. But there are a few stereotypes that seem to have been created as a result:

1.) Kissyface(book): That's where flirting with your ex or crush over FB IM crosses the line. Playing with fire, that one.

2.) FaceBFF: When you reconnect with someone you weren't that close to originally and become instant soulmates due to FB. You're pretty sure you never had a conversation with her EVER, and now she's telling you about her marriage and how much she can't wait to see you and she IMs you twice a day.

3.) Facebleh: When you see your FaceBFF in person and you're like, well, "meh."

4.) Facebuffoon: The guy (it's always a guy, usually a right-winger) who friends everyone in your elementary/middle/high school and tries to become the stud of your class. But it's 20 years later and you just don't want to have everything you do commented upon ("Hey girl! Lookin' good!"--UGH) and reviewed by the masses. Defriend immediately.

5.) Hatetagger: The girl (it's always a girl) who posts every great picture of herself, whether or not everyone else in the picture looks like crap. And always tags you (and everyone else), mainly so that she'll get as much exposure as possible. You'd defriend her but she counts her friends, and counts them every day, so she'll know it immediately and because she's a hater there will be hell to pay.

That being said, I've found some great people that I totally love keeping in touch with. Like you. Honest, I swear, you're none of the above. Really.

Tea for Four

2009-02-19T22:51:00.006-05:00

So I've been a bit busy. Since my last post, I've been to L.A. twice, Miami once, and in my office about 80 hours a week. It's been a bit crazy. In good times, everyone wants to say they have a publicist; in bad times, they realize they need one. At least for now.

My thought has been to do a few recaps of my travels, as there have been some pretty exciting developments...

I was thinking about the fact that no matter what, I needed and wanted to write something. And somehow, while wandering and thinking, I made a left, and randomly found myself at tea with four people: one was a friend that I happened to be looking for, one was the legendary china designer Anna Weatherly.

She is just a gem and a half. And the amazing sweet potato petits fours were to die for.

Back in the day, I was quite the craftsperson: my first real job was for a craft publishing company, where you'd walk into the lunchroom and there would be a person knitting on the couch, a tableful of paints sprawled about (and me usually doing calligraphy on my lunch hour for extra money since my salary was a whopping $8.50 an hour).

Anyhoo, through her thick Hungarian accent, she enchanted us with some pretty great DC gossip, and then told us about what she sees as truly the end of the era of craftsmanship. Waterford is going under, Buccelatti Silver is seeing the last of their tradespeople (no machines there: it's a room full of men in their seventies, each with 50 years of experience under their belts, hammering away at each piece, inch by inch)-and did you see the article in today's Post about how brides don't think china is a necessity anymore? That can't be good for business.

So if you have a chance to see her, as she does a few personal appearances around town from time to time, definitely go, as she is a rare find in a world that's becoming less about art and more about just survival.

Breaking news!

2009-01-12T14:43:00.005-05:00

I was all set to chat it up about the promo jar of Natura Bisse Diamond face cream that arrived at my office last week--that is literally the size of my head--but I just got word of the biggest sale ever:

The R. Nichols 5 and dime sale starts tomorrow, with everything $5.10, sold in packs of eight.

Dear lord. Get there while you can before it all runs out!!

My Hermes Tattoo

2009-01-08T08:37:00.002-05:00

My life is a varied assortment of highs and lows (above and beyond any postpartum bitchiness I may or may not have inflicted on my BFF).

If you skimmed my closet it would be like, "Armani, Zara, Balenciaga, Target..." My current project, should it ever be completed, is crafting a macrame owl out of Pucci fabric. Vosges chocolates are a true passion, as is Cheez Whiz. I work in fashion (though it is DC, so "retail" might be a better term), yet have seen more Dead shows than you could shake a bamboo rainstick at. But somehow, it all works. Works for me, anyway.

Case in point: my Hermes tattoo.

It didn't happen on purpose. I was an 18 year old stoner who knew everything. I drew the above tattoo on a piece of paper one afternoon that may or may not have included a glass, a pin and a Yardbirds album, woke up the next morning, headed to Great Southern and ordered it up in the most painful place possible (yes, nothing but nerve and bone on that part of your foot there).

My much more proper sister (who if asked, will tell you that we grew up right next to Far Hills, though in reality, it was a farm town about an hour away) was simply appalled.

When my husband and I were married, I was a 24 y.o. stoner living in Northern California who didn't think we needed china or crystal.

Then about five years later, I found this:

...and fell in love. I've collected it piece by piece, and now proudly have service for three. If one person wants cappucino and one wants tea and only one wants a salad. It is Hermes (and looks lovely next to the framed poster from Oakland Mardi Gras '94).

After I had bought my first piece, a dinner plate, I flipped it over and found this:
...so, if asked, yes, it did hurt. And yes, it's Hermes.

Madame, your gown awaits...

2009-01-07T00:01:00.004-05:00

Need a dress for the 20th? Of course you do.

Seriously: Put. That. Bridesmaid. Dress. Away. She promised that "You could really wear it again--definitely, I swear it."

She lied.

So plugging a bit here, but here are some options in the $350-$750 range:

Saja: beautiful gowns, fun colors (though the black one with the studded neckline is my fave). Trunk show with 10% off through this week at Ginger. $400-$500 range.

Nicole Miller: cute dresses that you actually could wear again (unlike your liarliarpantsonfire bridey friend's taffeta concoction that ran you four and a quarter, not counting the shower). Trunk show with 20% off this weekend at Imagine Fashion Apothecary. $350-$600 range.

Teri Jon: Higher up on the price scale, but pretty gowns that wear really well and are very reasonably priced for their quality. Also check out the 50% off gown rack, all at Harriet Kassman. $750 range for Teri Jon.

Oh, and while we're on the topic: Nanette Lepore will be in town for inauguration weekend. Keep your eyes peeled for her famed curly locks dancing around town.

Today's Obsession: Chahhming, Dahhling

2009-01-06T09:47:00.005-05:00

I have a charm bracelet. Specifically, I have a Links bracelet that is made to hold charms. I also have charms.

For a while, I liked the bracelet on its own, and I just never got around to attaching said charms (all received during my 30th birthday weekend party on Middle Road in Palm Beach, in the epicenter of what will forever be known as The Gravy Train Era. But I digress.). Part of it is that I already have a jangly bracelet: a Kelly watch, the locket of which rattles around with each step. Point is, you can already hear me from a mile away when I'm sporting it (helpful to warn when I had a staff back in my corporate days).

My sister also was somehow able to finagle my grandmother's gold charm bracelet, which is just rattly and wacky and filled with treasures, some from flea markets, some from the world over. So even though I like my lil' Links, it just doesn't compare. Again, I digress, this time with jealousy.

But now that Washington is--for at least the next month--the cool city, I may actually get around to attaching said charms to said bracelet, simply so that I have the excuse to buy this one and janglejangle it around. Also available in White House and Washington Monument charms, with prices ranging from $345 - $1035, all available in yellow or white gold. Custom commissioned and available exclusively at Charles Schwartz & Son at the Willard and Mazza.

Sneak Peak: R. Nichols Spring 2009

2009-01-05T00:12:00.007-05:00

For Spring, Nick is going fabulous...
You saw it here first!

Cathy Alter at Ginger

2009-01-04T00:25:00.002-05:00

Cathy Alter, the bestselling Georgetown-based author, will be signing her book Up For Renewal at Ginger this Thursday, January 8, from 6-8. Her book, which has drawn rave reviews from People magazine, The Today Show and Allure, traces the year she spent following the advice from glossies including Cosmo, Glamour and InStyle, and serves as a primer on everything from how to wrap a sandwich to understanding Jennifer Aniston's split ends fetish. It's a year spent making goals and keeping most, so if you're about to break your first New Year's resolution (and who isn't), this event is perfectly timed to serve as inspiration.

She is also the source from which blogger Robyn Okrant culled the idea to heed Oprah's advice for a year in her blog and upcoming book, Living Oprah, which has recently been in the news.

Cathy's launch party drew a slew of boldfaced names, so be sure to peer over your signed copy to see who else is in attendance.

Cocktails and cupcakes served.

Cotton House Mustique, Luxury Spa (SEO)

2009-01-03T21:57:00.010-05:00

So while I've been catching up on blogging, I was also emailing someone here in town who is getting ready to head to Mustique, my favorite vacation place in the whole wide world. My husband and I have been talking about it lately, specifically, trying to figure out how to get back there. But with two small children, it's pretty impossible to take a vaca over 4 hours away and for more than 72 hours.

Then I opened up my blog email addy, which I haven't touched in months, and there was an email from the PR guy for the Cotton House, asking me to list it in a previous entry as "Cotton House Mustique, Luxury Spa" to help their SEO campaign. I've done it twice now in this entry, so they should be pleased.

Since I started working on my own two years ago, I've had zero vacation time. Literally, zero. I've maybe put my laptop down for 3 weekends total, tops. But the time has come. So while the Cotton House Mustique, Luxury Spa (3!) is off the table, we just booked a weekend in February for a close second that's stateside: Acqualina in Sunny Isles Beach. Best. Spa. Ever. And best vaca on this coast we've ever had.

It's not Mustique, but a weekend away in a warm place at a 5 star will certainly do.

This just in(Style!)...

2009-01-02T17:02:00.005-05:00

Amongst the Inaugural festivities, Neiman Marcus is jetting in Hal Rubenstein of InStyle mag and Ken Downing, NM's national fashion director, for a runway show and lunch on the 19th. Ali Wentworth hosts, and they're never shy about the goodie bag stuffings for events where they call in the bigwigs. It's invite only, so start calling your contacts now...

The Greatest Gift of All

2008-12-31T11:18:00.003-05:00

...came from my SIL. The 2 DVF boxes were a close 2nd.

...this is from one of the two assorted packs I received. The company is called Mean Cards, and this is not even close to the funniest one there. Also check out her life story, told through her animation. Enjoy!

Saja Trunk Show

2008-12-31T00:00:00.002-05:00

Saja is, in a nutshell, gorg. So if you need something pretty...

So it's been a little while...

2008-12-30T22:38:00.004-05:00

...and I don't know if I'll stick it out as I'm pretty damn busy these days. Two kids. A pile of clients. A business to manage. Did I mention two kids?

But there are things like my Peter Alexander owl PJ's from their uber-cute shop on Robertson that I'm just obsessed with and I can't really blather on to my husband about them anymore.

So since we're chatting about Robertson, let's start with my trip to L.A. a few weeks ago. 24 hours, three client meetings, two BM's at The Ivy. My flight arrived late and I got the urgent text: "GET TO LUAU NOW SITTING NEXT TO JLO AND MARC DOESN'T SEEM LIKE THEY'RE FAKING IT." With that, I shot a "FLOOR IT!" to my driver, but to no avail, as LAX was a hike an a half from the 800 paparazzi camped outside.

So instead, off to my new favorite little hotel, The Chamberlain in West Hollywood. In lieu of fab fare next to the Anthonys and Dennis Hopper, it was a bowl of Cheerios via room service. But it was still LA in December.

Next, off to check out some potential office space a few doors down from Chris McMullan.

Then back to DC, back into my owl pj's, back to my clients, my adorable kids, my business to manage.

Lather, rinse, repeat, though add in 4 months of colic, and you have the quick nutshell of my life since we last left off. And there we have it.

Yes, a bit of a hiatus...

2008-06-17T08:00:00.003-05:00

..at least from blogging:

...but alas, no such thing as maternity leave...

Stuck

2008-04-30T23:33:00.003-05:00

So in addition to a 2,500 piece mailing arriving tomorrow, collateral for an event this weekend, one proposal, one email, one e-newsletter and 3 press campaigns, I need to come up with wedding-themed ad copy. And I got a whole lot of nothin'.

I've toyed with every possible twist on the old "something old, something new", thought long and hard about the unique selling proposition of my client's product and the stage in the buying cycle in which these readers will be involved, stared at pictures of products for hours on end...

Nothing.

My intern starts on Monday. My brainpower needs to start much sooner than that.

But ahhhhh, my intern starts on Monday.

This Month Has Been Brought To You By..

2008-04-29T17:38:00.006-05:00

...well, absolutely crushing deadlines, for starters. Had to attend a gala in Baltimore yesterday, raced there and back, stuffed envelopes until 3 am, then up at 7 to start a crazy day. It seems that a reprieve will not be coming anytime soon. That a client just asked if I'll have wifi in the hospital, and if not, if they can pay for it would be a pretty clear indication, methinks.

But the other thing: Elbows. It would seem that bebe has about 50 of them, all of which are put to use on a continual basis on my innards.

It (Elbow) is also the name of the band my husband saw on Sunday at Sixth & I. And they are amazing. Their latest CD, The Seldom Seen Kid, was just given **** by Uncut (which I know because I got my husband a subscription for Christmas in a move that singlehandedly made me the Greatest Wife Ever).

Anyhoo, they're awesome and you should check them out (the band, not the 800 daily jabs to my liver).

Why I Love My Job (Saturday Edition)

2008-04-26T16:39:00.004-05:00

...because I spent the early part of this morning trying on a $520,000, 5 carat ring whose classification started with VVF.

I forgot to ask for a loaner for tonight's parties, but next time...

Today's Lessons

2008-04-25T17:07:00.005-05:00

1.) Just because Pucci stretches doesn't mean you should necessarily WEAR it when you're 9 months along, lest you look like the centerfold of Lactation Quarterly Magazine*.
2.) If you don't have time for a blowout, avoid cameras at all costs. Ponytails + photographers = very very bad.
3.) When you find your ideal pose, stick with it.

Carry on...

*=LQ Magazine and its ancillary properties copyright LJ, 2008.

Greetings from Columbus

2008-04-18T10:03:00.003-05:00

...and just as I'm patting my own back because things are going extraordinarily well and I get all cocky about it, it just as quickly goes to hell.

It could be worse. I could be in Columbus, Ohio. With no wifi, no way to send attachments to press due to the worst hotel internet service ever, and a hotel restaurant that simply cannot master A Beginner's Guide to Making Belgian Waffles.

Oh, wait...

At least it's a beautiful spring day, my cousin will be in the most gorg Romona Keveza dress ever in 24 hours, and I've dropped my pregnancy card to convince husband that really what's in order right now is a mani, pedi, facial and blowout at the only decent spa in town.

Have a great weekend!

One more thing...

2008-04-15T23:22:00.002-05:00

...since I'm up printing the forms RIGHT NOW:

There will be giveaways for $200 gift certificates for Lucy and Ginger, as well as coupon books good for just about every shop in the row.

See you there!

Hot Architect

2008-04-14T21:28:00.002-05:00

I know it's HBO. I get that.

But dear lord, Thomas Jefferson, even with teeth rotting out of his head: yup, still completely effing HOT.

Frustration in the Dressing Room

2008-04-11T18:31:00.002-05:00

So I just got back from Day 1 of the trunk show and Hoooleeee Krap. The stuff is gorgeous. The kind you put on and think, "Ah, that's right, the nice clothes ARE better." And the prices for them are actually reasonable. Like Cusp-level pricing. But the quality is SOOO much better than your normal off-the-rack stuff.

But then I tried to zip it up. One piece after another, creeping up one size up with each try. And dammit, yes, I have a basketball in front of me and cannot wear normal people clothes. I just have to admit it and move on. I'm have maybe a week left in Pucci size 42 and then it's sweats from here on out, I think.

But you should definitely go. And get something for me.

There will also be pink cupcakes

2008-04-10T20:11:00.002-05:00

I ordered 30, though by the time I get there, I'm thinking that about, oh, 24 will make it through the door...

Cue The Oboe

2008-04-09T14:13:00.006-05:00

Leaving the corporate world (almost 14 months ago now!) to delve into my profession full time has been a long, drawn out series of fits and starts. Like everyone who has ever flipped to consulting ever, I landed a few big clients, thought "HA! This is easy!," only to have my salary sliced IN HALF (yes, that's a lot less Pucci in my life) while working 80 hour weeks trying to stay afloat.

And then you think you've got it all figured out, only to find yourself taking jobs that you know you shouldn't because you think you can handle it or you need the money (or you get cocky and/or greedy) and lo and behold, they're not worth the time and effort and you don't do a great job anyway because you're overwhelmed.

But little by little, it's all started to come together. Good days and bad days turned into more good months than bad, and then at some point, I don't even know if I could pinpoint when, it just happened.

This week-ish was like a symphony. I can't even begin to tell you how many events I'm juggling right now (oh wait, I can: it's THIRTEEN), plus normal retainer work and strategy for fall and wait that needs an email to go out and NO pulling an image off of a website is not high enough resolution and what? an event in seven days?? and crap that client doesn't like that ad and holy bejezus am I ever pregnant and...

...and yet. Somehow, even with having to stay up until 2 am for the past 10 days and being as big as a house, it somehow all worked out. Really well. Fingers crossed that the next 10 are just as good.

I guess it's just like the fact that your hair always looks INCREDIBLE the day before you get it cut. Because in somewhere between 30-45 days, an intern and, more importantly, a BABY, are coming into the picture, and who knows how it's all going to turn out then. Again fingers crossed.

If this came with a custom time machine, I'd be all set.

2008-04-08T22:10:00.003-05:00

I love her stuff. And I'm all about custom ANYTHING (even my bathroom paper guest towels are custom. Yes, obsessed)...

Still here...

2008-04-03T22:07:00.004-05:00

Today started with getting a call that my mother may have had a heart attack. Actually, it didn't start that way, it started with a delicious cup of coffee.

So she didn't. It was a combination of her taking medicine like I took drugs in college--a haphazard decision based on how she's feeling that day, what's there, probably some marketing thrown in ("Oh, Lipitor commercial, I haven't taken that in a while..."). So that combined with her body heartily, resounding saying in the best way possible, "Hi there--so, um, eff this chemo, okay? I think we've done all we can do with it here, but thanks," gave her some symptoms which equaled a trip to the ICU.

So by "best way possible," I mean that the tumor has dislodged, and her chemo has surpassed expectations. So no more of that, on to the surgery, then radiation. Then hopefully it's all over. Today's symptoms are gone, she's getting discharged tomorrow.

The day is ending with me forging 283 documents. And doing a smashing good job, being that it's 12:30 and I spent every minute not on the phone with my hysterical (as in dramatic) sister in meetings.

Na-night!

Krying (Yes, With A K)

2008-03-31T08:17:00.004-05:00

So if you're in your living room with the television on as background noise while attempting sort out your 2007 line item expenses because you were too damn lazy to buy Quick Books last year and now you're screwed trying to remember what client cost you $8.89 at Whole Foods and you all of a sudden find yourself bawling--and I do mean tissue-involved snifflesniffleweeping--over an episode of Keeping Up With the Kardashians but no one is there to hear it, have your hormones gone over the deep end and your brain officially gone to complete effing mush? And should you really be telling the Blog World about it?

The baby, the bitch and the wardrobe

2008-03-29T19:29:00.007-05:00

Rather pathetic that I work in fashion for a living, but well, I'm pretty much out of clothes.

My entire wearable wardrobe now consists of:

Milly shirt, brown/green white
Tunic, lime green
Armani cardigan, black (though will be too heavy to wear in about a week)
H&M cardigan, tan
Maternity shirt left over from the last round, burgundy
Maternity denim skirt (also leftover)
Black Revas that annoy me to no end
Kickass brown kneehigh boots
One Trina Turk dress for going out, purple & brown silk
Two pairs of black leggings (and say what you will about leggings being passe--leather ones were a mainstay on every Paris runway for fall. My post-baby goal is to rework my XXS leather pants into leggings. Oh, and to get into them. That would also help).

When did maternity clothes get so ugly? The last round I couldn't buy DVF maternity fast enough. This time it's all atrocious. Six weeks left, and the above list is not going to get me through especially since the Milly has about a week left and the H&M is becoming more pill than sweater. Suggestions? And early induction isn't an option--they just moved me up two weeks, even though I explained that I have a personal designer appearance, a trunk show and an all-day salon benefit that week. They just didn't really seem to care.*

And before you judge me for putting my job first, let me regale you with this legendary tale, of a friend-of-a-friend, also a publicist. Her very famous jewelry client's $270,000 bracelet was being worn by the world's most famous female celebrity to the Oscars a few years ago. She (publicist) was in the delivery room at the time that said starlet alluded her posted security and took off from the VF Party, bracelet still on wrist.

"GET THIS EFFING BABY BACK INSIDE OF ME AND GET ME A GODDAMN PHONE" she barked to her doctor. Baby wasn't listening, but she got a phone and got the bracelet back before her final push. Now that's some serious p.r. dedication.

Your heard it here first...

2008-03-28T11:54:00.003-05:00

Fun shopping at Barneys and a killer goodie bag. RSVP now as it's going to fill up FAST...

No, Really: What Would Emily Post Do?

2008-03-24T20:05:00.004-05:00

So while I'm sorting out the absolute melodrama that is my life at the moment (too many damn women involved in this current crisis. Just Too. Damn. Many), I'll regale you with this tale that happened while I was away from these here blogging parts:

So a few months ago, I threw an event for Emily Post's great-great granddaughter. Like my truly evil former best friend from high school that should be nowhere near a mirror lest her lack of reflection freak out the standers by, I should really be nowhere near anything related to Emily Post. I'm from Jersey. I don't really like people (except for you, of course). I think during some round of, ahem, medicating, during my college Grateful Dead years, I think I took a few too many hits of truth serum, because I have somewhat permanent foot-in-mouth disease.

And oh, my karma: not all that stellar.

...none of which occurred to me when coming up with, pitching, publicizing and implementing this event.

So the morning of the event, I was picking up the aforementioned honorary hostess at the airport. Life was a bit crazy, I was in a complete mad rush for the days leading up to the event. So at 10:54 for a flight landing at 11:05, I jumped in my car and raced down to National.

I pulled into the garage, pulled the key out of the ignition, then remembered the words of my BFF E, who uttered, eyebrows a bit raised, "You are going to clean out your car before this weekend, yes?."

I looked down at my console: crushed Cheerios from a 3-year old's temper tantrum the week (okay, the month) prior. Floor: a myriad of gingerbread caramel wrappers, press releases, and, well, dirt. Windshield: a lovely shade of grey. Construction paper art projects (and their leftover glitter) in every crevice. To say nothing of the probably case of empty water bottles littering the seats.

Crap. Literally think "What the EFF would EP do???".

So first: haul all bottles to the trunk. Next: find a napkin and some water and try to get the dirt off of, well, everything. Not too much luck.

Head to baggage claim. Meet the hostess. Who is kind and lovely and charming and warm. Phew. Though she still hasn't seen mi coche.

Head to the car. Give her somewhat fair warning.

Head out of the garage, chatting it up all the while. Get to the gate. Reach for my wallet. Which isn't in my purse. Or in the console. Or in the backseat. Or...rifling through trash now...in the trunk.

"So, um, so thank you for coming. Can I borrow four dollars?" Yes, I had to borrow four dollars from Emily Post's relative to bail us out. So. Not. Cool.

By the end of the day, I asked her if Emily Post would take off her 5" heeled boots when the event was just about over if SHE was 6 months pregnant. She said Emily would approve.

The end.

It Is What It Is

2008-03-18T12:54:00.005-05:00

...as my mom, ever the practical one, always says. So on to less hefty topics.

Like the fact that I have GOT to get a pair of non-TRB flats. Unlike the last pregnancy, where I wore 5" heels to the hospital (mainly to make the point of it, also 'cause my doctor is a TOTAL HOTTIE apologies to husband sorrysorrysorry but, well, he REALLY is), this time heels were off pretty permanently by about month 6. And since I'm anti-flat as a general principle, my only options were literally 15-year old Chanel ballerinas that were so worn down that putting cardboard in the bottoms a la Depression Era would have improved them tremendously.

Props to my husband for sensing this was coming, and getting me a killer pair of over-the-knee brown boots--completely flat--at Barneys (extra props for even knowing my size). But they're brown, and they're boots, so they don't go with everything. And spring is springing--hallelujah!

So through my tangled web of store credits and trades and discounts, I now have two pairs of TRBs, one in black and one in orange.

Here's the thing: wearing humongous medallions on your feet pretty much only has disadvantages.

First of all, it makes the toe part of your shoes not every flexible. So not all that comfortable after, say, hour one.

Second of all, it's just a bit, um, obnoxious--is that the word? I just feel like every time I take a step my feet are screaming TORY BURCH! TORY BURCH! TORY BURCH! TORY BURCH! right on down the street.

Want to need to have to get a new pair of Chanels (speaking of, have you seen the fall collections? Holy CRAP. While boucle looks like absolute crap on me, and I know that grey sweater dress on the front of last week's WWD will as well, I still pine for it so). Or at least some Delmans. Anyone have an in with Karl's people?

Where I Been

2008-03-17T09:39:00.003-05:00

My family, if nothing else, certainly knows how to do holidays.

Something just always happens when my family gets together (all women, now four of us, save for the one I married and the one I birthed). So if more than two of us are in a room, especially over a holiday, especially over THE holidays, drama always ensues. Usually our fault (self-created drama from the tension of having so many strong personalities in one place), sometimes not anyone's fault at all.

It was Christmas Eve, and all was going smashingly well. My sister had gone way overboard and sent this for my son (yes, that's right, FOUR FEET WIDE. Mind you, my living room is about eight feet wide. Before furniture). So the drama of having a box as big as my porch, the daily fighting as to WHY ARE YOU DEPRIVING MY NEPHEW as we fought to send it back happened pre-holiday, was done and resolved (we won, of course). The fact that the big fight (there's always one, every holiday, that's the rule) had happened and was settled before the first flight touched down was a relief. And a first.

This was also the first year that my son really, really got Santa, or, more importantly, got what Santa could do for him, so it was pretty much the most exciting and fun day ever for all of us.

So, it was Christmas Eve. We had a horrible Christmas CD playing--like really untalented Bing Crosby wannabes on a CD someone somewhere had given us, wine was pouring (an inch for me, a foot for everyone else), my son was on Santa watch on norad.org, tracking Santa's movements around the world.

Caught up in the total familial moment, my sister and I, planners both, were off an a tangent of where we were going to vacation this spring, and she wanted to go to Italy this summer, and maybe we could all do the beach again and she swore she wouldn't pick a fight and try to get a car service to pick her up again (and charter a plane) from our house in the middle of nowhere in the Outer Banks (true story)....

And then we looked over at my mom, usually the leader of all such preposterous plans, who had fallen silent.

"I have something to tell you" she said.

"I knew something was wrong," my sister thought.

"Mom's cheeks are so gaunt," I thought.

"I'm sick" said my mom.

And we immediately assumed our roles: my mom, the matriarch, trying to keep it together. She had wanted to wait until after the holidays, but just couldn't keep it in any longer, but was still trying her hardest to be strong. My sister, ever the drama queen, stood up, crying and yelling about how we were going to fix this and ohmygod and she hadn't endured 800 crappy bar mitzvahs with her former husband to not get him, humongous cancer donor, involved and damnitdamnitdamnit all to hell. And me, calmly trying to get to the bottom of the story, voice steady, internalizing it all, waiting to break down until I could get out of the room that was getting smaller by the second.

And also true to form, my mom didn't break until after her two dramatic daughters (one internal, one external) had left the room, telling my husband, the true pillar, the whole story (while preliminary, it was worse than she had led on); my sister, after her round of melodrama, taking the decisive action by immediately getting said ex-husband on the phone, who in turn had the heads of the two largest care centers in the world in conference by 9am on December 26, mapping out the strategy; me, up in my room, frozen, panicked about the future, panicked about my mom, not knowing what to do.

And now we're here. She's almost done with phase 1 of the big 3: chemo, masectomy, radiation. She just wants to be home, wants to see her grandson and the daily progress of her soon-to-be new grandbaby.

I just want her here.

So that's where I been.

Monthly Coffee (aka Glamorous, Part Deux)

2008-03-16T10:09:00.014-05:00

At least once a month (it used to be once a week), I end up taking a young woman out for coffee who contacts me about getting a job. Typically, she shows up, wide-eyed, carefully typed resume in hand; her opener is usually, "Wow-you get to go to parties for a living and work in fashion--you have the most glamorous job EVER!!!"

The reality: more like Wednesday.

Woke up early with the stomach flu. Even for non-publicists, thems are good times. As much as it would be great, you can't exactly call off an event the morning of (or even the month of) with, "So sorry--it's the flu, can we postpone? Next Thursday work for you?"

I just read that Olivier Theyskens tried to move Lauren Santo Domingo's (nee Davis) wedding so that his embroiderers would have more time to finish her dress. If it's not working for him, it's certainly not working for me.

So, in between puking episodes, raced downtown. Miscalculated and parking wasn't great, so parked three blocks away, then walked two blocks in the wrong direction. Hauling a case of vodka. Whilst seven months pregnant. FYI, vodka: not exactly light, especially in six pack of liter bottles form. (P.S. to the maybe 50 men who scrutinized then walked past: thanks for your help. Maybe not the most feminist of statements, but geez).

Head to Embassy, where exactly zero people on staff at that moment can understand my pleas of "PLEASE. TAKE. THIS. VODKA. PARTY. TONIGHT. AM. ABOUT. TO. DIE." Finally, someone in the Consulate kind of understands. Would kiss him, except then in about 48 hours he would feel like I do, and that really wouldn't be thanking him at all.

Take 35 minutes to walk back to my car, one..........step.............at...............a..............time.

Email somewhat rambling apologies about how notgonnabetheresosorryamverysick.

Curl up for 36 long hours.

The end. And the very opposite of being the queen of a Columbian couture wedding.

We'll Start This Off With a Good(ish) Story...

2008-03-14T13:36:00.003-05:00

So it was a few months ago (yes, I know, it's been a while). I was about 5 months pregnant at that point.

I started off about 15 lbs. less than I weighed when I got pregnant with my first (thanks mostly to stress). And luckily with this one, I didn't have the 8-week bout of nausea i had the last time, the only cure for which was constant eating, so overall, I am (or at least was) smaller this go-round.

But then one day, I started noticing that in addition to still fitting into a lot of my normal clothes, my rings were actually falling off of my fingers.

"Dear lord, what is WRONG with me?" part of me thought, while at least 30% of my brain was thinking of all of those skinny minnies who just have a cutesy little basketball for a pregnancy. "Oh, I'm so huge--I've gained 12 pounds!" they giggle at month eight. "Could that maybe be me? Or is this serious?" I thought.

I walked up to the mirror and really scrutinized. "Do I have an eating disorder?" I thought, a million Oprahfied stats about how you just don't notice it when it's you running through my head. "Have I really not gained enough weight?" (again, while still congratulating myself a wee little bit for maybe being one of THOSE women). My doctors had said things like "you're doing great!" and I felt like I was eating pretty normally, but still...

I had this debate running through my head for about a week, not saying a word to anyone, just thinkingthinkingthinking. I left my rings in a little dish by the sink, occasionally trying them on. They fell clear off every time.

Finally about six days later, my husband was in the kitchen, near the little ring dish. "What's going on with that?" he asked.

"Okay. Here's the thing," I said rather (over)dramatically. "Do I have an eating disorder?"

"WHAT?!" my husband asked incredulously. "Um, no? And um," he chuckled, "why would you even ask?"

"Here's why." (again, another dramatic pause, sliding on my rings, turning my hands, then watching them drop off. "My rings. They won't stay on my fingers. I think I'm not only gaining weight, I may be losing it."

"Um, hey ASSHOLE..." he said in his loving, sweet way.

"Yes?"

"Your wedding ring? Yeah, that goes on your OTHER hand. Crazypants."

Sure enough, I'm not a glamazon yummy mummy. I'm a sausage-fingered crazypants who still doesn't know her right hand from her left.

Such a glamorous life I lead.

Company Meeting

2007-12-17T10:50:00.001-05:00

Wow, it's been a while. Don't know if anyone's still even out there. Between work, the holidays and fighting narcolepsy on an hourly basis, it's been a bit rough.

Until today.

Flew in yesterday for our company meeting. I'm currently in the penthouse at the Sagamore. It's an entire rooftop, half of it outdoors, which looks much like the rooftop at Ibiza.

Except to my left is the ocean, behind me are palm trees, and with the exception of a few staffers straightening up the place, I'm the only person here.

Life is going to be UTTER CHAOS when I get back tonight--both families coming for the holidays starting Saturday, and trust me when I say that these worlds colliding is never good.

But for now, paradise.

Let it snow!

2007-12-05T15:11:00.000-05:00

Today I've sat on my couch, writing press releases, pitchingpitchingpitching, sorting photos, assembling stuff for an embassy party tonight, and, occasionally, eating marshmallows (I'm pregnant, BACK OFF).

Yesterday was a damn war zone. Today = fabulous.

Score!

2007-12-05T08:48:00.000-05:00

I'd show you the SICK black Armani cardigan I scored at 40% off, but I was too busy photographing my seating arrangements instead of my outfit on Friday; I'd also show you the gorgeous lipstick red Ikito dress (with the 4" cutout RIGHT above my bum) that I wore twice last week (once to the Charles Nolan show at Saks, which was tres fun though I didn't quite get where he was going for spring but I digress)--but I was too busy trying not to faint from the sheer pain of being simultaneously 4 months pregnant and in 5" Choo boots to pose for a picture. But trust me, they're both incredible. And now they're going to be discounted even more...

An OCD Birthday

2007-12-02T22:40:00.001-05:00

I've got me a posse of girls. I've known them forever--most going on ten years. They are from all different stages of my life: college, post-college, neighbors, Dead travelmates, the woodworking magazine owned by the porn company... Anyway, I love putting all of these disparate groups together, as new friends are always made, and a damn good time is always had by all.

Two years ago, for a big birthday, my two bestest friends of them all threw me a kickass, wine-infused fete, complete with boas, goodie bags and fake Botox. Rock Creek Restaurant, one of my faves, wasn't the same after that night (their fault for picking up the wine tab).

Last year, same BFFs threw a fete at one of their uber-cool, retro-modern houses, and it rocked. The fall of last year was also really, really busy, so as a thanks to them and the rest, I cooked the dinner (I cooked the only thing I know how: lasagna).

This year, house addition done, and this event season even busier than last (when did I last post? An effing month ago??), I threw the party at my casa. And as I a.) throw events for a living and b.) am a weeee bit of a control freak, it all got out of control really, really fast.

It all started at Home Goods, when BFF E and I walked right into a table of dress forms like the one you see above. I knew they had to be incorporated somehow.

Then I remembered the SEVENTEEN stolen Pucci seat cushions in my attic, which immediately turned the event from a "sit around my living room eating lasagna" to "Must get Chavari chairs NOWNOWNOW and should the linens be twill or lame and does anyone have silver for 18?"

Then I called my sister, who happened to be throwing a brunch for Pucc during Art Basel, who Fedexed me an early Christmas present (Pucci dress!) along with 18 brunch invitations (which, with the click of a mouse and a flicker of spray glue, became menu cards).

Then I remembered that I had Laura Mercier Creme Brulee bath honey that would make the perfect snobby handsoap...(an hour and a roomful of bubbles later, let me offer this advice: it's a bit thick for handsoap. Add water to it. CAREFULLY).

By 3p.m., the lasagna hadn't been started yet but I was convinced I could do that AND prime over walls in the new guest bathroom (that were test painted Hermes orange to match this killer 1925 French newspaper ad I just had matted and framed). Another note of advice: Hermes orange is a wee bit bright for a teeny tiny powder room. Just a wee bit.

E and friend S came early, E with the most amazing cake EVER in tow (note to all: Just Cakes in Bethesda is amazing, and even moreso is E. If you don't already have one, go out and get yourself a BFF like her if you can, though she really is one of a kind and you can't have her), L polished the silver (borrowed and all monogrammed with B's), grandmother's prewar China was finally pulled out of storage, my dear husband, with nary a word of complaint (okay, lots of words, but he still did it, bless him), moved our ENTIRE living room into our basement for the night, and the guests started to arrive.

First, a few shots of the decor:

When I walked into the florist with these, she literally hugged me for saving her from having to make her 400th "Holiday Joy!" FTD Bouquet that day.

Three hours earlier, there was an entire living room in here. Husband = NOT amused.

Yes, I stole 17 of these cushions in full view of Olivia Chantecaille and friends. Those invites/menu cards: thick as tiles. Awesome.

Seating arrangements were, for the most part, perfect. The fact that we switched the eggplant and turkey lasagnas while serving, thus giving my vegan friend D her second bite of meat in about fifteen years? Not so much.

While the night started out as a lovely fete, it ended up, per usual, with drinking the Veuve under the table.

Next year: I'm figuring out how to squeeze in 40 girls. You're all invited.

xo

Coming up for air for TWO seconds..

2007-11-28T22:08:00.002-05:00

...just to tell you about the sale and pahtay at Daisy Too, Zelaya and Daisy Baby tomorrow:

I swear I'll be back. Maybe after my birthday.

xo

Nothing But Net.

2007-11-13T21:45:00.001-05:00

When we staged the first District Sample Sale in the fall of '06, we raised $10,000 for Suited for Change. In the spring, we upped the ante and raised $11,200 for SOME. So when we first met with Miriam's House, our fall 2007 charity, we told them our goal (to beat our previous year's numbers), crossed our fingers and hoped for the best.

Tonight at a reception at Nage, we were honored to present them with a check for $17,200. In addition, we came up with the idea of keeping our past charities in the fold, so we also donated $1,000 each to SFC and SOME as well.

So to those who came to the DSS, those who told people about it, those who enjoyed it, and those who didn't but came anyway, I say thankyouthankyouthankyou.

Okay, back to the pre-event chaos. See you tomorrow!

Friends

2007-11-12T21:38:00.000-05:00

It's been a day of old friends. Had a high school friend send a long lost picture of us from, oh, about 1983, for starters. Like 10 of us sitting on Santa's lap, all awkward and braces-covered and chatty and decked in our Forenza best. Then tonight, I had dinner with my college roommates, which was just stellar. It's always so great to go home, to surround yourself with those who know you best.

The five of us at dinner are, in so many ways, at the same point in our lives, yet we're so different in others. There's L, who lives in Annapolis, who has three children and is a nurse. She sees more death and pain on any given day then most of us do in a lifetime, and yet she's still maintains her perspective somehow. There's D, who just finished the NYC marathon this year, home with her two kids (both as hilariously funny as she is) and looking for some balance. M, the schoolteacher, always the optimist, and N, who tutors and runs a camp for autistic children, pregnant with her second, due three weeks before me. And me, with the, ahem, more vapid job in the bunch.

Between the picture this morning, and the stories this evening, I can't remember the last time I laughed that hard, or felt so, hmm, I guess "comforted" would be the best word I can think of.

I dropped D off in front of a Starbucks at end of dinner; she just wanted a gingerbread latte, a little time on her own to walk around, some peace and quiet. I couldn't wait to get home to see my boy, since as of late, our time together has been in precious short supply. Grass is always greener.

No real point to this post, I guess, except to say that it's good to have friends you love, friends you've known forever. And a boy who can't wait to see his momma is an absolute bonus.

But Don't Get Me Wrong...

2007-11-10T20:36:00.000-05:00

LOCAL PUBLICIST SEEMINGLY ABDUCTED
Replaced With Chubbier, Crankier, Narcoleptic, Sober,
Caffeine and Botox-Free Version of Former Self

...there was, of course, a snarky press release.

Love Rules.

2007-11-09T01:10:00.000-05:00

There are moments in my life that I can pinpoint--I have myself convinced that when I'm about to expire, these will be the snapshots that will run through my mind, in no particular order. Moments of clarity, moments of beauty, moments of truly understanding things just for a moment in an all too confusing world.

The moment we walked out of the perfect Dead show in Oregon and my husband (then fiance) and I realized, "Yup. That was it. Doesn't get any better. We can go now."

The moment driving solo through the Rocky Mountains at sunset listening to stunning classical music, realizing that even in moments of tragedy, there is beauty to be found.

The moment while taking a press call about vodka while hiding under my desk at my day job and realizing that I had to make the call right then and there, to jump off the cliff and try to do what I love.

Tonight's moment happened during Kravitz (who was about 10 feet away at the time--they cleared the tables away while the band was rehearsing).

He was awesome--I've seen him before, the last time was with the Black Crowes which, of course, completely rocked. But that's beside the point.

I was there, dancing with the crowd, with the randoms making out in front of me, the drunk girls sloshing their red wine all about and me doing my best to avoid it, the Fight Night men entering in droves, pumping their fists in the air and jostling us about while yelling "DUDE--THIS FUCKING ROCKS!!!" while slapping hands and slugging beers, the older women with the confused looks on their faces wondering why everyone thinks this sunglassed boy is so hot (and yes, he's as hot as ever).

He broke into Let Love Rule, I think it was his fourth song.

And then I felt it. A little pang in my chest at first, which then moved its way down to my belly. And then I felt a tear. First just a little watering, then a bit more, then it collected enough mass to begin running down my cheek, followed by another.

I dotted them away, but didn't really care. Because it hit me all at once.

That it's more than a read on a stick, more than a snarky press release to send out, more than just an excuse to hit the Breyer's at noon.

It's a baby in there. A baby.

And all is right with the world.

since the secret is out...

2007-11-08T20:39:00.000-05:00

Tonight's secret Knock Out performer:

LENNY KRAVITZ.

My proximity from center stage:

FOUR FEET.

Literally. I just measured.

My Day

2007-11-06T23:45:00.000-05:00

8:00: Housepainters arrive to officially finish the process of making our addition homey and liveable. Ralph Lauren Plantation: genius.
9:00: Answer 20 emails reallyreally fast about tonight's event, tomorrow's two events, next week's event
9:30: Shower, try to give myself a blowout. Call one80 to get one for tomorrow's events, as my blowout skills are hopeless.
10:15: Crap! Have to make signs for tonights events (not make them, but mount them on boards, which is a process much more tedious than you can imagine).
10:45: Crap! Have to print collateral for tonight's event.
11:45: Run to client to pick up signage for Knock Out auction item, which takes 45 minutes due to other topics to discuss. Get lunch for painters.
1:00: Run to Whole Foods, get Rosemary for tonight's event (long story). Be completely annoyed by the fact that the parking lot is PACKED.
1:30: Run and get signs that I forgot to load into car. Realize am about to completely run out of gas (does "9 Miles" really mean 9 miles?).
2:00: Call friend K in Vegas while driving-I KNOW, IT'S BAD. Especially since I lurched the car a bit toward a VERY, VERY MAD (rightfully so) pedestrian. Hang up on K who then thinks I'm maimed in an accident.
2:09: Find no meter parking--dammit!--so have to pull into $8,000 an hour garage in the Design Center.
2:14: Run into photo shoot, manage taking of very fun pictures for press and holiday campaigns.
4:14: Book from photo shoot to Reagan building, 3 cases of vodka, 2 huge signs, recipe cards and rosemary trees out the wazoo in tow.
4:30: Holy security. I always forget about the security.
4:45: Join the huge line of chefs, owners and other assorted restaurant types in loading up packed elevator. One person, 18 bottles of vodka, a forest of rosemary and unwieldy signs and no dolly. Not easy.
5:15: Lug all of the aforementioned to one floor, then another, then back downstairs. Set up.
5:16: See Ris Lacoste, on my top 5 list of Nicest, Most Fabulously Brilliant Washingtonians.
5:22: Get pointed in direction of vodka mixers, which I lug along with 2 wonderful Food Fight volunteers
5:45: Talk other business with a restaurant owner re: upcoming event on November 29
5:46: Answer phone: VERY mad husband on the line, as I'm answering the phone not from my house, but from the Reagan Center.
6:00: Head out, see a fave press person on the way out.
6:30: Home, answer 20 emails, including print details on R. Nichols event next week!
7:30 - 12:00: more emails, 6 phone calls, 2 pitches, one report, one avoided email, one postcard with HUGE edits.
Tomorrow: repeat, switching "Food Fight" for "Mazza Gallerie Anniversary" and "Washingtonian Party."

It ain't glamorous, but Babs loves her job. Though Babs needs a nap.

Crossing the Line

2007-11-05T09:29:00.000-05:00

While I usually avoid repeating Daily Candy (as, well, you've already read it), I want to underscore something of note today: the Modest Needs Foundation.

My cause is fighting poverty. It's where I try to steer the efforts of all of my charity work. The Modest Needs Foundation attempts to reach people before they hit that line, which I think is just brilliant.

You can visit their site, peruse their list of applicants--some need help with medical bills, some with taxes or car repairs, some with overdue mortgage payments. Modest Needs accepts applications, vets them for accuracy, then posts them on the site. You can search for people who need specific help, or that live in your area, or allow the foundation to channel your donation to those they feel are most urgent. In many cases, a small donation is all that's needed.

Starbucks is partnering with them for the holiday season, donating 10-20 cents per cup of certain coffees on certain days. Or you can pretend that you're drinking one extra cup or two a week, and schedule an extra 5 or 10 dollars be donated on your behalf on a weekly basis.

But no matter what, do something. Because you really can make a difference.

P.S. And be on the lookout, as the Gods Love We Deliver Holiday Catalog is supposed to launch today as well-another great cause, and an incredibly fabulous way in which to donate to it.

The Art

2007-11-02T13:01:00.001-05:00

Here it is...

Tres cute, no? I'm not sure if Washington or Jefferson is my favorite, though you'll have to attend to see Jefferson!

A hiatus from thou...

2007-10-26T09:19:00.000-05:00

Hi all. It seems I've been taking more breaks than not these days. I have a little news that I'm not quite ready to share yet, but also have been beeeezeee. You know how they say that if you really, truly love your job, that it doesn't seem like work at all? It's true, but when that's the case, it also makes it incredibly hard to turn your job off. Ever.

If my husband had his druthers, he would place this very laptop under the back wheels of his car and release the emergency break on our little hill. So you can see why blogging has had to take a bit of a repreive.

Overall, the past few weeks have had their ups and downs: some events wildly exceeded expectations, some not and it was truly humbling. I think the lesson overall is that the retail event market has significantly changed in the past few years. Unless you have an amazingly unique selling proposition--eg., something unique and truly special that benefits the living hell out of your attendees, you are pretty much doomed. And even if you have that, a little snafu like timing can hurt you just as badly. But if you really think it through, vet your ideas out, do a little market research, and put that all together, you can really develop something great.

So.

Here's one of the 80 things I'm working on now for which I hope you'll mark your calendars!

Wednesday, November 14: R. Nichols Event at Apres Peau. This has been YEARS in the making. Nick is a bit of a recluse--he is charming and wonderful and funny and dapper and ridiculously talented and so veryvery shy. But he's finally coming! He came up a few years ago to support me for an event I was doing, but this is the first one all about him. The last one I can remember was when Mireille Guiliano (yes, the CEO of Veuve) honored him with a fete for doing the cover of French Women Don't Get Fat.

Anyway, he has created a Washington, DC themed line exclusively for Apres Peau. And they are SO FABULOUS. You'll see one of the basic original drafts in the November issue of DC Magazine, but the finals are just incredible. And not only will he be doing notecards, but he is also creating a limited edition serious of prints (signed and numbered, series of 25) and it looks like he may even sell the originals, which he RARELY does.

If you'd like to receive an invite, email me and I'll put you on the invite list!

Event #5: Be That Mom!

2007-10-16T22:17:00.000-05:00

My graphic skills: not so the very bestest here...

Event #4: Badgley Mischka!

2007-10-10T13:34:00.001-05:00

Event #3: Belle Fleur NY!

2007-10-08T17:54:00.001-05:00

Ask anyone in the know that lives in New York, "who is your favorite florist?" I've done that and 5 for 5 and the answer was an instantaneous, "Belle Fleur New York," usually punctuated with an additional, "I luuuuuurrrrvvve them." Dreamy sighs sometimes follow.

Belle Fleur NY clients, who include everyone from Salma to Uma to Trudy & Sting to every Manhattan hostess worth knowing, all love the fact that her bouquets are lush and gorgeous and smell terrific--her bouquets usually include a dozen or more types of flowers.

She applied the same basic concept to her new line of candles--and they are nothing short of amazing. I've heard that Jennifer Aniston orders the White Tea Orchid by the case. I'm a fan of the Orange Blossom Pomegranate, myself.

Anyway, I'm such a fan that I convinced my friend and owner of Belle Fleur NY, Meredith Waga Perez, to come down here to launch her candles exclusively at Apres Peau this Wednesday at a cocktail fete from 7-9.

Come see for yourself what the croc-boxed craze is all about. Rsvp to events@aprespeau.com.

Seize The Day (or the couch at the end of it).

2007-10-04T22:31:00.000-05:00

Today, well, it was bloody hot. And like the DSS only much smaller (though with no less clutter), my car: no a.c.

Nine: planned to crank out one of two proposals due by tomorrow. Ended up saddled down with 800 emails.

Eleven: Followup interview questions with client while driving, then repeating said quotes to reporter, reading notes while driving that were written while driving. Lucky I wasn't reading it whilst wrapped around a tree.

Noon: reporter lunch at Brasserie Beck. company: wonderful. Food: well, have I told you about my literal fear of mayonaisse? I have one. A big one. And that place is like Willy Wonka and the Mayo Factory. Everything on the entire menu has it. EVERYTHING with a side of gelatinous nastiness. Shivering just thinking about it. Carefully navigated the menu and survived.

One: Race home to check emails that I couldn't open on Blackberry, grab clothes for tonight, head back downtown.

Three: Off to the magic that is Cyrille at one80. My chemically straightened hair is about half grown out, and I'm not getting it done again for a while, which leaves blowouts, which I'm incapable of doing. I've probably had 150 blowouts in my life, and his are by far the best I've ever had.

Four and a half: Next, off to MenzFit to help with setup. Thinking it was at 15th and K, I left my car at one80 (13th & K) and clomped down in my 5' heels. Wrong. It was 13th & H. Crap. Clompclompclomp back down the street.

Six and a half: Party starts, great crowd, money raised, all good.

Seven and a half: run over to Milano for Knock Out Abuse Kickoff. Bloody hot. It is going to be a great event, though. South Beach theme, Debra Lee as chair. She had on a fabulous snakeskin belt.

Nine: Head back over to MenzFit to help with cleanup. I'm just better as the worker bee than attendee. Snag a killer goodie bag, a literal armful of LaMer from my dear friend who works for them, and help with the post-event auction chaos.

Ten: Home. Couch. Zone.

Eleven: Remember I now have 1-1/4 proposals still left to write (just about finished one whilst in the care of Cyrille).

Eleven and a half: procrastinate. See post above.

DVFabulous

2007-10-03T22:04:00.000-05:00

Ah, home from the longest of days. I love going to the city though, even if my shoulder STILL feels like it's going to fall off of my body from lugging around my laptop all day.

So after the first meeting (and a great salad at Astor Place at the St. Regis), I was browsing bags at Bergdorf's, talking about how the genius design skills of Lambertson Truex has never been more apparent than in this season with an incredibly educated salesman, when my cellphone rang.

"I'M STARVING! GET TO THE SEVENTH FLOOR AND ORDER ME THE LOBSTER." Click.

My sister had officially arrived.

Following orders, as I always do when it comes to my elder sibling, I headed up the elevator, then sat at our windowside table, listening to the clinking of glass, the purring of customers and husbands, and thinking about the percentage of women in New York vs. DC that are trying to look WAY younger than they should (seemed to me to be about 30%), when I looked up and simultaneously the lobster pasta and my sister in a great DVF headed directly to the table.

I slowly sipped my butternut squash soup as she grilled me about the meeting, gave me pointers, and we caught up about our mom (traveling in Croatia at the moment) and our respective lives.

Pasta done, we bolted back down to Floor One, past the Goyards, and out the door to our waiting car.

Next: Meatpacking District for a meeting at DVF.

I'm pretty sure that I've never been to a cooler place. All white and black and fuschia, with original and incredibly beautiful artworks, all of Diane, covering the walls. The receptionist, positioned behind a wrought iron framed room of sorts that was 1920's bank teller and incredibly uber-modern all at the same time, phoned our contact as we waited on a comfy upholstered bench. We heard the clickclickclicking of heels down the white staircase, were greeted and escorted up the stairs.

"I stayed at Diane's Paris apartment a few years ago," is always a good opener, and in this case, it happened to be true. Right after my sister's divorce, she flew over and stayed with close friends of Diane, who was out of town at the time. Her highlight was borrowing a cowboy hat of Diane's and heading out to Buddha Bar in said hat that was so cool that she left her pajamas on as her ensemble and got away with it.

Meeting: went well, as to be expected, cards and handshakes exchanged, and then past the newest collection (literally from the runway, hanging up RIGHT. THERE.), and out to our waiting car.

My sister felt bad for being a little gruff upon her arrival, so next we went to Trina Turk where she got me the most fabulous dress (which will be worn at two events tomorrow, along with hair done by the amazingly talented Parisian find, Cyrille of one80). The dress won't make me as fabulous as my sister, but then again, it was never really a competition.

NYC

2007-10-02T12:15:00.001-05:00

Greetings from 10022-SHOE! It is HUGE. ISO the perfect pair of black heels, though no luck thus far. Givenchy peephole patents were close, but I think I've finally learned the lesson that patent=pain.

Next, off to a meeting at one of the world's largest jewelers. My sister (/boss) was supposed to meet me here for it, but her flight is superbly delayed. So it's me versus a literal army of New York PR powerhouses. I figure if I don't weep it will be a victory.

Wish me luck!

Event #2

2007-09-28T18:14:00.001-05:00

Brought to you by the great people of Proper Topper and others (music and passion: always in fashion), at the 9:30. See you there!

Yes, this is 2 of like 20. Told you I was a busy bee! More to come...

What Gaping Black Hole In My Blog?

2007-09-26T20:48:00.000-05:00

When I got married, last on my list was getting a great photographer. A photojournalist to capture the action as it happened would have been ideal, but we were poor Deadhead scrappers and that just wasn't in the budget. My theory then, as it is now, is that I'd much rather have the fabulously incredible memory than spend the time posing for pictures that are getting in the way of having said memories.*

I say this because the past few weeks have involved so much fabulousness that I just couldn't take the breather to stop and document. And while I did miss writing here, there just wasn't the time. And not to say I have all that much more right now, but I'm certainly going to try to make the effort.

Well, all that plus I was a bit crispyfriedtoast from working my ass off. A smidge of that, too.

One quick note: in the midst of all of my craziness, it was amazing how many friends took the time to offer to help and meant it. Even though I may have barked a gruff, "thanksbusygotstogo," at the time, it was so touching that so many peeps made the offer. Thank you.

So a quick recap:
Sample Sale: 850 people and no air conditioning. So sorry about that. If it's any consolation, while you were digging for bargains, I was crawling around in even more sweltering dark back rooms looking for anything that even remotely resembled a thermostat. But so many great friends were in attendance, so much generosity, and so much money was raised (we should hae the final tally very shortly). So thank you, thank you, thank you.

Life: My brother-in-law is home from Iraq, safe and sound. He wants nothing more than to sit in his very own house and just be there; my sister-in-law wants nothing more than to Get. The. Eff. Out. Of. The. Damn. House. So that should be interesting. We head down in a few weeks for the official homecoming. The elephant in the room is that they're essentially out of people, so he's going ot have to go back, and in some ways, I think it might be worse the next time around. We're a little terrified.

Work: Signed an incredible client this week, fly to New York on Tuesday to lock down THE event of the winter months (!), fly to Greece in a few weeks for my actor client who is wrapping up a film there. And I'm going with my BFF. Total perk.

What Else:Threw a pretty kickass Brazilian Birthday party; Artefacto/DC party was fun, though I don't think I've been in there since I did their launch, so it was a bit weird. And still ONE damn bathroom; Bloomie's/Kennedy Center fundraiser was fab last night--a nice CC addition, that; helping to throw a baby shower for one of my fave people in this town this weekend, cannot wait.

And now upcoming: mark your calendars for fabulous. We'll do this one at a time. There's a lot. Brace yourselves.

Event #1: MenzFit, October 4. (lovely design above by yours truly, photo by Abby Greenawalt. While I've been away, my design skills have not improved, but I've become a bit of a Photoshop genius out of total necessity).

MenzFit helps men move from poverty to the workforce with career education, interview training and appropriate attire. If you want to change the face of poverty, this is a pretty incredible place to start.

Tickets are $100; auction includes a trip for two to the wine country (including airfare), a men's sheared mink bomber jacket (worth $10k!--sorry, Dah, my leetle vegan friend), box tickets for the Wizards, Caps and Ken Cen, and my favorite, a beauty party for 10 including styling, refreshments, and the all-important product baskets for all. And there's LaMer in the gift bag. Kabam!

Side note event: Isaac Mizrahi at the new Bloomie's, 12-2 tomorrow. Got to find a copy of Unzippped pronto for signature purposes...

*Caviat on that: event photos: fine. Wedding photos, where you spend four hours posing with Aunt Gertrude on the church steps when really, you JUST WANT A DAMN DRINK and to have fun at your one-day, 800 kazillion dollar event: AARGH.

Do you still love me?

2007-09-21T19:08:00.000-05:00

Okay, almost dug out. I haven't left. Just a little bit burnt and need to refresh a bit. Be back right quick.

xoxo
BabsieD

Holy crapamole

2007-09-12T23:20:00.000-05:00

That was exhausting. And thrilling. And exhausting. And amazing. And bloody damn hot.

Thank you to all of you-all eight hundred and fifty (!) of you who came tonight. Thank you, thank you, thank you.

blogging during blowout

2007-09-12T09:15:00.000-05:00

Thank goodness Remi Metsu is a hair god, as the rest of me, on 3 hours of sleep, looks like complete utter crap.

Just wanted to day thank you to everyone for all of your support, especially to my BFF E and her compatriot S, who, despite humongous looming deadlines of their own, stayed with me packing goodie bag stuffs until the wee hours.

Full report tomorrow!

Xo

A Quick Report from the Front Lines...

2007-09-10T07:54:00.000-05:00

Hi all. Okay: one huge event down (Saturday); the BIGGEE happens on Wednesday. I can't believe it's already here!

Here are a few top-secret pointers for you to best navigate this year's DSS:
-First, advance ticket sales close at 5pm today. So get them now or you may not get them at all (on site sales only happen if they don't sell out, which they tend to do).

-Head to the back left corner when you make it through the door: The Purse Store selection of designer bags at 80% off tend to sell REALLY QUICKLY, and Zelaya Shoes has a lot of variety and sizes coming, but the most common sizes, as you know, will sell quickly.

-Make sure you grab a program when you go through the door--page 13 has the store map--key for negotiating the best bargains. You can also prep by visiting this page, the bottom of which lists a sampling of the bargains to be had at some of the participating stores.

-If you were lucky enough to get a VIP ticket, check inside your fabulously adorable gift from one80, as someone will win a $300 gift certificate.

-The DSS raffle ROCKS this year. A $10 ticket could win you some sick prizes, starting with a $730 Gryson bag from Urban Chic.

-Bloggers' Corner goodie bags rock, so if you signed up, be sure to stop by (also located in the back left side).

-Also, drop a business card off (or fill out a raffle form) at the Miriam's House booth, as they are doing a free raffle. They, by the way, are AMAZING. And they could use your help. Please take some info from them at their booth so you too can be inspired by Carol Marsh, their ED, and her fantastic staff and board that provide a roof, help and comfort to women who need it more than you can ever imagine.

See you there!

To Whom It May Concern (and FashionGirl),

2007-09-05T19:28:00.000-05:00

Sorry that I've been so nuts.

Like crazy busy.

Like answer one email and seven more crop up busy.

(I feel like that annoying Yoplait commercial).

Right now, my life involves: checking 7--yes SEVEN--different email accounts; doing 3 presentations; mapping, designing ads, and keeping track of a 24-page program; having a client currently filming in Spain (that I might actually have to go visit in October--who hoo!); managing two photo shoots; getting together 3 pieces of collateral in production; getting 30 signs with 30 different logos printed (me luuuuurrrves Shano, my lifesaver on that one); and running a 200-person birthday party. Oh, and there's a baby shower too.

That's the short list.

So anyway, I will try to come back and regale you with stories of my fabulously fashionable life. Soon.

As soon as it's back to being either fabulous or fashionable.

xo

Bloggers Corner at the DSS!

2007-08-27T20:15:00.001-05:00

So if you're coming to the DSS and you're a blogger, please do the following:
-Get your ticket now, as they're going quickly!
-Email blogger@districtsamplesale.com with your full blog name, address, and a 25-word description of your blog, and we'll feature it in our Fashion & Events Blog page in the DSS program.
-Stop by the Bloggers Corner at the DSS and pick up your fabulous free goodie bag!

That is all. Carry on.

Nether Tasering

2007-08-24T11:06:00.001-05:00

Sorry, busy as crap with the Sample Sale; this has been sitting in my drafts folder for a few...

So today, I had my second laser hair removal treatment. Or, as I like to call it, having my nethers tasered.

I "won" a spa silent auction package whilst a wee bit buzzed at an event (does every one of my posts involve drinking?*).

Anyhoo, turns out the package was a bit (a lot) of a bait and switch--it was for 2 of 5 necessary treatments (which they didn't inform me of until heading into appointment #2), combined with some random services that I didn't really need (and definitely don't need to drive a damn hour for). So to get optimal tasering results, I would have to buy a package of 5, which they offer at a volume discount, or the remaining 3 at regular price.

So the math: I spent $700 at the auction for something that was listed at a value of $1,400. But would have to spend another $900 to buy the remaining 3 treatments, or get a package of 5 for $675--so a minimum spend of $1,375 for something that they are currently selling for $675. Niiiiice.

So. Back to the tasering. In my two appointments, the first was using the standard laser, the second one was an upgrade using IPL.

First time out: took a lot of time, as you have to numb the whole area for about an hour, and then it still hurts somewhat. But after one treatment it was about 30% gone.

This time: no numbing, it took 15 minutes total (something about the IPL hitting far more follicles than with a normal laser), and same amount of pain (which isn't bad at all). As for results, we'll see what comes back.

As for the pain, it kind of feels like I went to Great Southern and asked for a tattoo that looks like chicken pox. But with about 40% less pain. It's just a quick sharp stinging, that really isn't that bad in most parts. You get used to it after the first few rounds.

If you're thinking about doing it, now is the time--tasered nethers cannot see the light of day at all, so I was the freak in the shorts at my pool all summer (with the farmer's tan to prove it).

And now that I've completely scarred you with way TMI (and you haven't read the postscript yet), I'm off to more DSS. Have a great weekend!

*Don't answer that. Though I JUST found out that I'm not preggers. But to backtrack, the initial thought (that I might be) occured around 10:00 this a.m. By 11:00 I was picking out guest room decor to convert it into a nursery, by 11:30 I was figuring out how to wittily tell my husband, by 2:00 I was buying a test, by 3:00..oh wait. Never mind. Not pregnant. Point is, tonight's post, if not about drinking, will defintely be sponsored by the concept. So back off.

Live Blogging: From the DSS War Room

2007-08-23T10:27:00.001-05:00

If you're planning on getting a VIP ticket, do so quickly: there are only about 20 left!

We're Number, Um, FIVE!

2007-08-20T22:00:00.000-05:00

So another fun fact from WWD: The DC Metro area has been ranked fifth in the nation in annual beauty spending, with an average annual spend of $453 (I don't believe procedures were included in the calculations--if they were, my group alone would add about $35 per capita...).

So I started doing the math (as really, when it comes down to it, I'm a number-crunching statistical analysis wonk more than anything else):
La Mer foundation, sold by pushy saleswoman, two shades too dark. Grrr. : $65
La Mer foundation, correct color (whitewhitewhite) sold by Jamie, the fantastic LaMer rep at Saks CC: $65
Laura Mercier Sunkissed (bought all left in stock as they were discontinuing it): $66
Nars Blush (Orgasm, but of course): $25
Too-Faced eyeshadow, George and Weezie: $17
Lipglosses: 8 colors, all in search of the perfect shade of tangerine that I don't think exists: $80 (approx)
Drunkypants Cosmetic Shopping at Random Department Store Beauty Event: $330 (the last one I went to, anyway).

That's $648 without really thinking about it. To achieve a fabulous level of...complete mediocrity. Damn. Guess maybe I should allocate that to the procedure side of that ledger. But that's another post entirely.

Sunday Toast

2007-08-19T11:13:00.000-05:00

Happy Sunday!

I'm enjoying my Sunday a.m. routine: Snow Queen BM, Sunday Source, NYT front to back (front page first, weddings a close second, though the Mrs. Astor article by Bill Cunningham trumped both this week), and catching up on the WWD's I've skipped over the course of my busybusydamnbusy week.

...but I had to interrupt to share this bit of spectacular marketing prowess, from Friday's WWD...

Now I love me Barneys' shoe department more than just about anything else. But Saks' new shoe department at its NYC flagship: effing BRILLIANT:
-It's an entire floor (Eight). 50 vendors, 100,000 pairs (it is listed as "stockkeeping units" actually--but that's got to be pairs, right?).
-They lobbied for--and got--their own zipcode from the USPS:
10022-SHOE, which is incorporated into all their collateral.
-It features a shoe repair shop.
-They set it up so that the seating is arranged around tables--so while you're trying on Stuart Weitzmans, the person across from you is trying on Chanels--so you KNOW you're going to upgrade (though the real VIPs have their own luxe room, but of course).

So, CMO of Saks, whomever and wherever you are: I raise my glass of tomato-infused deliciousness and salute you. You are a marketing genius.

Ain't No Accident...

2007-08-16T07:53:00.000-05:00

Blogger News:

So my editorial genius friend H just started a new blog: Accidental Chic.

The blog features great writeups (short, fact-filled, to the point: hoorah!) on beauty, home and fashion: a great place to stop by to catch up on store, product and event info. Me likey very much.

Next is Mom Stylist Joyce Neave, whose blog also just kicked off. She's featuring weekly interviews, style Q&A, and local recommendations for everything from tailors to makeup artists.

AND then, to top it all off, here's a little detail on the Blogger's Corner at the DSS: it will feature a place for all in ze blogosphere to meet and greet, plus goodies for all. We will also be featuring your blog and description in our program! Just email blogger@districtsamplesale.com with your blog name and writeup (the shorter the better, please!) and we'll hold a goodie bag for you! There is no additional fee, but you will need to buy your ticket (on sale 8/23!) to get access. See you there!

Another Sad Note

2007-08-14T14:43:00.000-05:00

Dr. Adrian, one of Washington's best dermatologists (and the first to give me Botox) passed away suddenly of leukemia.

He was a great doctor, patient and kind, and a complete innovator in the field.

If you would like to contribute to the DC Chapter of the L&L Society, there's an opportunity to do so here.

Pour a Bit of Champagne on the Boxwoods

2007-08-13T21:14:00.000-05:00

...and write a check to your favorite charity in honor of the grandest doyenne and hostess of them all, Brooke Astor. What an amazing example for all to follow, each in our own little way.

Of Crowds & Chaos (and Cup Sizes)

2007-08-13T15:18:00.000-05:00

I'm just not a fan of huge crowds, lest it's the DSS or My Morning Jacket playing on a stage in front of me. Nor am I a fan of total disorganization, unless it's my closet (okay, fine. My house).

Route 123 is the DMZ for me, with the left side featuring Scary Tyson's, the right featuring Actual Tysons. Scary Tyson's because EVERY SINGLE TIME I've ever been there, it's the Perfect Storm, packed with heinous crowds of sketch people and nasty moms pushing their sneezing kid's stroller directly into my kneecaps no matter how far to the right I move and teens in horribly inappropriate clothing that make me just want to lecture them forming dense packs that you simply cannot walk around even though they're walking 0.000004 mph and lines at the register when you just want to buy one little thing and just stacks of messy crap in every store.*

I'll just pay the 30% markup and buy across the way. Thanks.

That is why, on the surface, H&M would be the bane of my total existence.

But I love to mix up a little throwaway with the rest of my wardrobe, so every now and again, I suck it up ("it" may or may not be a Xanax) and head on in.

While in NYC a few weeks ago with my Miami team, I was dragged into the H&M down by Rockefeller Plaza. There is no H&M in Miami, so our fabulous event be damned, H&M was the absolute highlight of our trip for them. It must be like when my fourth grade teacher, Mrs. Cavanaugh, went to Russia back in the Eighties (okay, Seventies) with a suitcase full of pantyhose to give out as gifts because they were such a rare luxury and the maids in hotels cried when they received them. Well, I guess like the horribly spoiled American version of that.

I got a couple of things for fall (as well as the orange star underwear, etc. for Aquaman), and then, while doing a lap on floor 4, a huge wall of bras caught my eye.

The perfect bra has always seemed like the unattainable for me, save for one beautifully crafted lavender lace concoction I bought in Paris a few years ago, whose maker was never to be found again.

Lacy is okay, but not delicate (eg., won't fall apart after one wearing). Fitted around the back without looking like a tourniquet. Little to no padding but not see through. Supportive without looking like an 18-Hour Bra from Playtex (I'm turning into my mother in enough other ways, which is Just Awesome. See "Teenagers, Incessant Need to Scold About Clothing Choices" from above).

Chantelle has come close, but they just don't support all that well, certainly not for $70 a pop (though I keep going back and shelling out my money like a cheated-on spouse thinking that this time, they'll do me right. Definitely this time. I just know it.).

But these, here at H&M, looked like they actually might be worth a shot. So into the 20-person long dressing room line I went.

Perfection. Absolutely, complete perfection. I couldn't even believe it. And SEVENTEEN DOLLARS.

Downside: I bought two colors, but didn't look to make sure the tag on the other one matched the sizing on the hanger, which of course it didn't, being H&M and crowded and chaotic and all.

But even at $34 (because I will always mean to, but will never, ever return it), still perfection. So if you're a fan of crowds and chaos (or even if you're not), definitely give them a try.

I'll be the one outside wagging her finger at some 14-year old in a belly shirt.

*Fine, the new wing is better. But it's still Scary Tyson's to me.

District Sample Sale

2007-08-08T15:53:00.000-05:00

As a rule, if I'm going out to the press with something big, I don't break it here--would rather give them the honors.

So now that the word is out, here's the whole official scoop!
The website is updated for full scoopage.

See you there!

I AM THE BEST WIFE EVER.

2007-08-08T11:41:00.001-05:00

Actually, not so much.

But, for the first time in about, oh, six months, I cooked dinner last night. You would think I brought home an Oscar considering the huge deal I made of it. I asked my husband when the party was going to be held (in honor of me making dinner), and I wasn't entirely kidding.

Anyway, I googled the four things we happened to have in our house: chicken, cilantro, a mango and curry and landed here. It was awesome. I am genius fabulous chef, wife and mother.

On a side note, I need to find a small, funky space for a cocktail or luncheon this fall. Very VIP jetset, but they're looking for very funky as well. Any suggestions?

Hex In The City

2007-08-06T21:42:00.001-05:00

Is it just me, or does SJP look pretty extra crazypants in her new ads?

Like she's possessed by some heinous otherworldly parfum demon who, with his evil olfactory-based powers, Photoshopped a ridiculously-sized bottle of Covet into her dainty little hands.

But, then again, maybe it's just me.

Three Words

2007-08-03T11:41:00.000-05:00

There are days that you wake up, usually after a restless night, with a level of stress that you just can't shake. Days filled with frustration and tension and unanswered questions and no end in sight.

And then three simple words like, "Look, Mommy: butterfly."
...bring it all back into perspective.

Have a great weekend.

Lunch With D

2007-08-01T21:09:00.000-05:00

Today, in between meetingsmeetingsmeetings, I met my very good friend and work partner for about 7 years, D. I miss having her in my life every day--we went through hell and back together, and have just such an amazing bond--but I'll take what I can get and today it was about 2-1/2 hours start to finish.

D always looks so incredibly demure and professional. But beneath that poised exterior is an completely uncensored mouth (beneath which is usually a perfectly tied Hermes scarf--today's was an extraordinary fuschia number) and a side-splitting sense of humor. We took a lap at an event at the convention center, then headed over to PS7. I've heard completely disparate reviews of the place--people seem to either really LOVE it or really HATE it, so I thought it was worth checking out for myself.

The verdict. Hmm. Well, parts I LOVED, parts I HATED.

The bread (I'm quite pro-carb): fantastic. Some of the best I've ever had. Hot, fresh and flaky. Perfection on a butter-smeared plate.

The menu: very interesting. But very pricy, especially for lunch. $14 for soup is kind of ridiculous.

Speaking of, the soup: we ordered one of each: one (tomato): great, one (chilled watermelon): horrible. Disappointing as watermelon and cilantro is one of the greatest flavor combinations ever, and they blew it.

Salad course: okay. Kind of pedestrian, though implemented well.

Server: I'll let this conversation sum it up:
D: Can I get this sandwich without the bacon? I'm a vegetarian.
Server: Absolutely. You can also get....hmm. I don't know what else. But you can get that.
One minute later...
D: Okay, instead of the non-bacon sandwich. I'll have the Sarah's Salad.
Server: Okay. Would you like chicken on that?

Our lunch somehow took an hour and a half for soup and salad, so I guess "very nice, but not very attentive in the least" would best sum it up.

So I guess you've just wasted two minutes of your time, as I've offered absolutely no guidance on this one whatsoever. Sorry.

Photo above: D, that one's for you.

Richard's Roof

2007-08-01T08:03:00.000-05:00

Sant Antoni de Portmany is the section of Ibiza that is just packed with huge clubs, of which I'm generally not a big fan. Give me the quiet violin player at Firefly overlooking the Caribbean (see fantastic view to the left) with a Grenadine Suite at the Cotton House at which to crash at the end of the night (preferably the one with the plunge pool). Best. Vacation. Ever.

...but I digress. Last night I headed over to our own little Ibiza, the one on First Street, for a party thrown by Tony Cord and featuring DJ Neekola, who is about to go on air with her own show on XM.

The rooftop looks just like the one at Pure Las Vegas (less the amazing view at dusk as the sun dims and the city of Vegas lights up all around). It was for about 100 people, so it was far less crowded than Ibiza on a typical night--exactly my type of event.

The weather was just perfect. We sat in our banquette, discussing with the fabulous Tony Hudgins how amazing it is that on a Tuesday night such a diverse group of people were out and about--this is not Washington of five years ago. Dominique Dawes was on the guest list, but I didn't see her--good thing, as I probably would have turned into the Chris Farley bad interviewer character on the spot ("Do you, um, remember? In the Olympics? When you, um, stuck that landing? That...was...SO....cool").

While it is recommended that you subscribe the The Liquid Muse's Cocktail of the Week email as she's the true professional, here are the drinks we whipped up for the event:
Sant Antonitini: Vodka (Snow Queen, but of course!), Triple sec, blue curacao; orange slice garnish.
Richard’s Roof: Snow Queen, dry vermouth, muddled mint leaves and a "roof" of mint on top.
Queen Neekola On The Rocks: Snow Queen, muddled limes, about a tsp. of sugar (she was lovely--and so excited to have a drink named after her!).

I can't believe it's already August. But summer: so far, so good!

Five Star Pampering

2007-07-31T09:38:00.000-05:00

So while in Miami for Fashion Week, I headed back to Acqualina, mom in tow. We were originally there for the launch, and after the rough weekend battling paparazzo and denying my need for sleep in more than 4-hour increments, some big huge pampering was in order.

Miami's version of the Mercedes in DC is the Bentley--on a percentage basis, it's about equal. And as you drive up the circular brick driveway in Sunny Isles Beach, about 30% of the town's Bentley allotment is parked there. I think they leave those in front and hide the non-Bentleys in the valet garage. It's an impressive site nonetheless.

Clicking down the marbled foyer, left, left, and there in front it sits: Espa, the 20,000 square foot haven of spa perfection.

We each chose the 2-hour custom package simply called "Espa Time": the time block is open; you meet with your consultant and together you lay out your treatment package on the spot. Facial, foot massage (see FW Mayhem--this was the day after), back massage, salt scrub were my choices.

In front of us at the reception counter was a Marshall--she was about 70 with more work done than anyone I had ever seen before. Her wraparound Diors couldn't hide what had to be at least four eyejobs, her short white shorts definitely had some lipo relocation beneath them, and she had the chest of a 20 year old (beneath a Versace strapless scarf blouse, natch). It was rather unsettling.

As you're filling out your leather-bound preferences list, the assistant quietly brings over a tray with a lemongrass-infused icy cold washcloth and a small cup of their cold soup dujour--orange watermelon on this particular day. Yum.

You are then led into the exquisitely appointed changing rooms, complete with hot, cold and ice shower stations, then to the "relaxation room"--a bedded, bambooed room to meditate (or, if, say, you are not quite the fan of sitting still for 30 seconds, for catching up on T&C and US Weekly). You also have use of the private Espa pool during your stay, before and after your service, so pack up if you head down.

The spa decor consists of browns, plums, glass and bamboo throughout; the custom products they use are scented with a spicy, woody yet not too heavy mix (their candles hold the scent perfectly). Very relaxing all. Kind of a darker, more zen-inspired version of John Barrett, actually.

The services have been Americanized a bit since their launch--they were anti-extractions for facials, but have now incorporated them; the emphasis overall seems a bit more results-focused on services than before.

My aesthetician, Elizabeth: wonderful. The obligatory product mention, but no hardsell; a top-notch facial, and a massage that put me to sleep (and I'm not usually a massage person).

So when you're sunning in Miami this winter, head there if you can. The resort is wonderful. But Espa: extraordinary.

Ninth Floor, Please.

2007-07-30T21:51:00.000-05:00

I don't know exactly when it happened, but one day, after lobbying DirectTV for years, we finally got the Style channel. Hoorah!

But apparently while I was away, Style went to Suckytown. Who replaced hour-long shows of the Paris shows with weird and creepy "dress like your favorite star" shows? Boo.

But then tonight, the greatest man in the universe, my husband*, was flipping channels. And due to the aforementioned greatestness, he looked at his new plasma and said, "Hey, isn't that the guy that used to do your hair?". And there in front of me was John Barrett. Cutting hair in Knoxville, Tennessee.*

Split Ends: the show that made Style not suck. Awesome.

*My husband has also identified Dolce and Gabbana and Zac Posen and, maybe he couldn't tell them apart, but there's a good chance he would be able to point to Lazaro Hernandez and Jack McCollough and know that those were the guys whose suit I desperately needed from Kirna Zabete last year. Greatest. Husband. Ever.

They (I) Say That All Press Is Good Press...

2007-07-30T18:33:00.000-05:00

Placid

2007-07-30T08:34:00.000-05:00

Back from the Adirondacks. What a relaxing week.

We stayed at Silver Lake, at what was a prestigious camp for girls that operated from 1911 until 1972. Each of the rooms in the main lodge and bungalows had a name--ours was Park Avenue. At the end of each summer, each of the groups of campers would make a plaque in honor of theirs. As an American Studies major, it was just fascinating--rows and rows of handmade pictures from the 1940's lining the walls, painted and signed by little girls with names like Rockefeller and Pulitzer and Hutton. My favorite ones were signs that incorporated their printed name tags from their clothing. You could almost hear the little girls giggling in the halls at night. Oh wait, that was the bats.

Aquaman appeared on the last day, which was the perfect way to end the week. Those in charge went for replicating the true Aquaman outfit vs. some of us who wanted to embellish, so his orange-starred speedos and flipppers went unused. A solid all-around humiliation nonetheless.

I had no internet access for the entire week, save for about an hour each day when we drove the half-hour ride into the nearest town, Au Sable Forks, where spotty Blackberry access could be found. Trying to answer 15 vms and 30 emails each day with no way to send attachments and in a very small window was challenging (especially with everyone's fall issues closing up rightthisveryminute), but I survived with a few glitches and one quick glance at Page Six at the end of the week (Lindsay--for shame! Get yourself a new entourage!).

But upside: in a true smalltown moment, as my BFF and I were in the local general store, the owner happened to mention that he was heading over to the Grand Union, bouquet of balloons in hand. We mentioned that we were heading there next, and he asked us if we could drop off the balloons for his son, Mark, who was celebrating his birthday.

When we arrived, the cashiers and produce people started gathering around with excitement. As they went to fetch the birthday boy, one stepped forward and asked, "So, are you one of those singing telegrams?". "Um...sure," came our wary reply. And then there we were, belting out Happy Birthday (not altogether well, though most from the crowd joined in). So when we headed into town for the rest of the week, we were the Singing Telegram Girls.

Okay, off to a photoshoot, then finishing up some web projects, but first a little DSS scoop: the VIP hour will be DJ'd by none other than Eric Hilton of Thievery Corporation!

Off to vaca....

2007-07-21T19:59:00.000-05:00

Off to a week in the Adirondacks, Dirty Dancing style. A group of us have rented an old girls' camp, complete with rundown cabins and lake. Hopefully we'll have the time of our lives.

We were iffy about going until our friend, Halfro (college friends and roommates all), bet our group in a somewhat drunken stupor that if the "marrieds" (four of us total) actually showed up, he would don a full-on Aquaman costume, have one of us canoe him out to the middle of the lake, he'd swim to shore, emerge from the water and walk down the shoreline introducing himself, friends and strangers alike, as Aquaman with a completely serious look on his face.

And with that, our vacation plans were set. Although the costume didn't arrive, so ten of us each picked a piece of the ensemble to bring. I'm in charge of the orange speedos. Of note in the costume are the green leggings, yellow dishwashing gloves, nose plug, waterwings, flippers and "A" buckle.

Needless to say, we've granted ourselves a bit of artistic license.

When I return: news of the District Sample Sale (okay, I'll spill it now: Wednesday, September 12. The VIP tickets will be So. Damn. Worthwhile. Believe tickets will go on sale 8/23), two other tres fun events locked down for the fall, and a play by play of the world's greatest 5-star spa, Acqualina.

Or maybe you'll get those from me during my vaca if we get bored with the torturing of Halfro.

Have a great week!

Back to the vapid in a flash....

2007-07-19T21:37:00.001-05:00

A beautiful story from a beautiful person (who happens to be my sister-in-law) can be found here. And if you're a dear and vote for it, she could win a trip, courtesy of Conde Nast. Being that she's taking care of her awesome 3-year old by herself in Texas while her husband is in Iraq, she deserves it.

Back to NYC

2007-07-16T23:55:00.000-05:00

Tonight: the opening of the Maria Felix sale at Christie's New York.

Of note: the leopard print "red" carpet; the fabulousness that, once again, is Lydia Fenet; the estate of Ms. Felix; meeting James of Park Avenue Peerage. What a sweet guy, a total highlight. Loved him. And the way cool Billy Farrell from Patrick McMullan.

Estate sales are a such a mix of emotions: attend one and you're part historian, part collector, part creepy voyeur. But it almost moved me to tears walking though what was her amazing life, just in things.

Beautiful paintings, china, hand-embroidered chairs, old, old books, so many awards, and an entire room lit in blue, filled with her Tiffany blue pieces: chandeliers, vases, a salt and pepper shaker shaped like a coach with blue s&p's in the carriage; couture clothing.

Then the red carpet started: first: smacked down by Bill Cunningham. Doh! Then Tinsley Mortimer, Chita Rivera, Hamish Bowles, Nina Garcia, Thom Filicia, Brandon Davis (once again) who completely tried to maul one of the girls in our group; Norma Quintero; photo editor Cary Leitzes; Angel Sanchez (fresh from designing Eva's wedding gown!); and countless others that, had I not guzzled about 4 glasses of champagne and quick, I'd probably remember better.

Some from our group split off to head to the Hairspray premiere, some to some bar near the Shoreham, our cute little hotel. And a few of us: back to our beds, end of a long, fun, but tiring weekend.

P.S. Additional sighting: Lucy Liu, heading off my elevator at Bergdorf's.

Turns Out, We're All Star-Effers...

2007-07-16T17:06:00.001-05:00

I don't know, I guess I just kinda thought that Miami people were more used to the notion of celebrity than those of us in DC. There's just SO much ostentatious wealth everywhere you look, lots of celebs are down there, the events scene is about 100x that of Washington...

...but then Jessica Simpson's swimwear launched at Mercedes-Benz Fashion Week. And then my theory proved all kinds of wrong.

Shay Todd show: oh, about 20 photogs, seating was at capacity, which was maybe 350.

JS show: about 200 photogs, standing room only. Just utter madness.

But first, a little digression.

I was staying at my sister's beautiful apartment (she's still on her uber-luxe tour of Italy), so I had free reign in her closet and with her beauty products. Worth the trip in and of itself.

First night: Dolce & Gabbana black lace stretch dress, which I've been coveting forever. Standing in line to get into the tent, saw Brandon Davis' girlfriend breeze through the VIP line, but Mr. Davis: denied. Tried the "don't you know who I am" bit, but not so much. Also seen: club promoter Ingrid Casares with her companion all weekend, stylist Robert Verdi; Andy Summers, though holed up in the VIP room at the Sagamore (a collection of his photos from the Police taken in the 80's is currently on display/on sale there); heard Andy Garcia was there but didn't spot him.

Next day: favorite Tory top, also a long-time covet, during the day; pilfered for night: gold alligator strappy sandals with twisted metal stiletto heel (worn with my Chinese silk RL pants that I wear to damn everything).

First stop: Rik-Rak Salon's Sagamore outpost for an editorial meeting/foot massage. Yeah, tough. But thank goodness for that relaxing start, because the night ahead...

So, the JS Show. First, the suits: surprisingly cute. The show soundtrack opened with American Woman, some Prince thrown in as well--was very fun. The models: better than at any other show; all were skinny with huge boobies. One looked EXACTLY like JS (who was seated in the front row with her mother and Jamie-Lynn Sigler).

Also of note: crazypants Dennis Rodman, there with drag queen extraordinaire Elaine Lancaster. Apparently not happy that he wasn't the center of attention, he got up mid-show, started dancing across the runway, then over to the left of the runway (but still in front of the photogs) and continued dancing. It was just bizarre.

Then came the after party at the Shore Club.

First, a shout-out: to the three J's: Josh and his two cohorts whose names I can't remember but they were J's, managers of the Red Room all. Cool as hell, especially under pressure. That's a job where you could seriously be a complete prick with attitude, and none of them were, not in the least. They were quite fabulous.

My job: get bottle of liquor into the hands of Ms. Simpson when she arrived. Get CEO of said liquor in her velvet-roped area. Find our photog and snap a picture. Easy, right?

As the night ticked on, the Red Room at Sky Bar (at Shore Club) was just getting more and more (and more and more) packed. Then I noticed security sweeps starting to come through. Then the paparazzi started coming in. Then I started inching my way up and...

KABLAMBLAMBLAMBLAMBLAMKABLAM went the flashbulbs. Talent hath arrived.

I was about three people back from the ropes, literally getting thrown around like a ping pong ball in my gold stilettos (which, as they were pilfered, didn't fit me perfectly so they hurt like hell and I was pretty wobbly). Seriously thought I was going to get trampled. It was actually frightening. Security tried to calm things down, but that was just not happening.

Made it up to the front, about 5 feet away. Ken Paves was dancing on a chair for the photogs, Jessica was vamping like the expert that she is. It was impressive to see her turn it on just like that.

Then I found myself barking some orders, handing stuff over, we grabbed the photog, SNAPSNAP. Done.

Turned around and JS's publicist was standing there, release order in hand stating that we couldn't use the photo.

Foiled at the velvet rope. Damn. Impressed by her people, though. I mean, it was lightning fast.

Hobbled out of the event, stopping to load up from the Smashbox lady--a woman walking around with a literal tray of Smashbox that was yours for the taking. Awesome. Then over to the outside bar, to order two $20 glasses of champagne (it was free inside, but we just couldn't be bothered--it was just so packed and exhausting), sat outside with our Blackberries, emailing the media our scoops, then through the hotel where two men who looked exactly like the Night at the Roxbury guys tried to pick us up, even when I said, "thanks, but happily married with a baby."

Then out of South Beach, back to the apartment, gingerly placing the somewhat trashed shoes into their plastic case labeled with a Polaroid (and then went straight for the La Mer).

Next installment: spa day at five-star Acqualina.

part three...

2007-07-14T20:23:00.000-05:00

At Jessica Simpson's show. Good god: mass chaos.

blogging via cell, part deux

2007-07-13T20:48:00.000-05:00

I'm at MB fashion week (swim) in Miami, currently at the Shay Todd show. Kind of Tory meets.Juicy meets lower-rent Balenciaga. Oh, and a little Xanadu.

For the record, I'm a pasty white, non-exotic cow.

Though the model heading down the runway at present has a horrific wedgie.

Ps. Andy Summers is here!!!!!!!

It's a..:

2007-07-12T13:29:00.000-05:00

Blogging via cell to let you know that at 2:30 am, DC Celine had herself a bouncing baby girl!

Ode to Valentino

2007-07-11T15:09:00.000-05:00

I was just reading about Valentino's 45th anniversary/75th birthday in Rome* (unfortunately, I couldn't make it because I, um, was busy...with...um...).

Anyhoo, in honor of the man and his legendary career, I share with you my very own Valentino story. It would have been published in Glamour in 1998, but they shortened my brilliant, enchanting 1,500 word essay to basically the following:

"I met Oprah. She was nice."

So I will bore you with said story here.

It was my sister's birthday, and as her present, her husband at the time bought her two very fabulous tables at a charity fashion show for Valentino. Oprah was the mistress of ceremonies; Donald T. was at the table next to us (his wife at the time, Marla Maples, was one of the models). Elizabeth Vargas was at my table along with a bunch of my sister's other friends/New York contemporaries.

I, still in full-on hippie era, was shipped the entire ensemble I was to wear to the function: (completely non-flattering) Chanel suit and shoes, proper jewelry, I think even some mascara was sent my way. It's not like I would have shown up in my Birks, but what with my whopping editorial pittance, I couldn't afford much better than the AT sale rack.

Models are models for a reason. Celebs and wives of should stay off the runway without some serious training. But I digress.

Our group was invited to the opening of the Valentino boutique afterward, and it was just beautiful. The red-carpeted entrance featured two HUGE V's made from red roses; I was handed a biscotti and iced tea with a dainty mint sprig by a gorgeous tuxedoed butler at the door. I was feeling quite cool (which is ALWAYS foreshadowing. Someday I will learn...).

So we met Oprah. She was nice.

And then I was feeling REALLY, REALLY cool.

So I'm strutting around the store, thinking I'm all fabulous, sipping my iced tea with mint, already bragging in my head to my friends about how cool I am, when I found myself in the men's department: a rectangular room that dead ended in the back.

And out of nowhere, Valentino himself just *POOF* appears. I didn't see him come through a door, he was just there, coming toward me. Just he and I (him and I?).

He walked closer and looked me directly in the eye. He's about my height, as tan in person as on film.

I lowered my glass and prepared to speak, knowing that since I was now incredibly cool, something just uber-fabulous was destined to fall from my lips. It would be brilliantly witty. He would find me charming. Yacht invitations would invariably ensue.

And then, just as he got close up and we were face to face, his expression changed to one of utter contempt. He looked away and moved on in disgust.

And then I felt the mint sprig, which, to that point, had happily rested atop my glass of tea, but apparently decided to take up a new place of residence.

Under my top lip, wrapped around it, with the very tip inserted into my nose.

Cool no more. The end.

Happy belated birthday and anniversary, Mr. Garavani.

*OP's P.R. people: I salute you.

The Biggest Thunderstorm in the Universe

2007-07-10T12:52:00.000-05:00

Right now, my dog is probably looking down from her 500 acre grassy meadow in the sky, not panting, drooling or pooping in a corner, and completely digging it, I'm sure.

Photo: Shuba hiding in basement during storm, 2004.