Damn You, Lindsay
I headed back up to C-Mart today--all of their Intermix dresses were marked down to $79(!), and I have NOTHING to wear to next week's Devil Wears Prada premiere/Suited for Change benefit. Must look fabulous.

My partner-in-shopping-crime tried on and camethisclose to buying what could be the most beautifully crafted dress ever (save for couture)--from Catherine Malandrino--again, for SEVENTY NINE DOLLARS. It wasn't perfect on her, but would look great on you, I just know it. Their selection of stuff is pretty vast--still worth the drive.

Unfortunately, unless I was going to add in a $17,900 boob job, everything looked like absolute crap on me. I did get a really cute C&C tee ($20, orig. $59) a pair of Vince knee-length cuffed pants ($59, orig. $168) and a huge bottle of Kiehl's vanilla lotion ($15/$29).

And then, from across the ghetto dive landscape (riddled with racks of Carolina Herrera blouses and cases containing Luella purses--it's really a strange place), I heard a shriek and a saw a flash of red patent. The shriek was my friend B; the red patent was a pair of Fendi flats. With. The. Buckle. Only two pairs left, both half price, one in my size.

They fit perfectly. Would look so cute with my white Juicy Bermudas, and, well, anything.

And then the little voice in my head said "Liiiiiinnnnddddsayyyy." Said voice was accompanied by some 70's disco music, a few images of that creepy scene from Boogie Nights where Roller Girl* starts calling Julianne Moore's character "Mommy", and then 800 images from Star magazine of Lindsay wearing the Fendi buckle everywhere she goes. Purse. Belt. Not sure about shoes, but it was in my little mental montage.

And I slowly unbuckled The. Buckle. And put them back gingerly where they were.

Damn you Lindsay and your ilk, for overexposing a fabulous trend before it really had a chance to flourish. Goodbye, red patent Fendis, I hardly knew thee (as evidenced by the security tag in the picture above).

*Did H.G. have some kind of plastic surgery--an eye job maybe? She looks completely different, not necessarily better, but I can't place my finger on it exactly.

Cool Docs, Fab Weekend
Friday: Off to SilverDocs to see some amazing work:
1.) The Intimacy of Strangers, a 20-minute short featuring secretly filmed cellphone conversations dealing with love (yes, they received everyone's consent before including them). It had a sad, sad soundtrack, a cool color palette, plus the two filmmakers are incredible women.

2.) The Great Happiness Space, about a weird/borderline horrific topic: host clubs in Japan. Basically, there are clubs (about 100 of them in Osaka alone, according to director Jake Clennell), where women who can't afford it pay ridiculous money--$30, $40k a year in some cases--to attend/be lavished with attention by the male "hosts" (the women also buy champagne, etc.--not unlike bottle service here, I guess). I won't spoil the ending as it's going to receive US distribution, but know that that's the LEAST freaky part of the story. It was a beautiful film, albeit pretty unsettling.

Next, off to the SilverDocs lounge for a drink and Aireoke (air guitar kareoke, no singing), which is pure genius. You need no talent at all, you just need to be either mildly coordinated or completely wasted. Brilliant.

Saturday: The Ambassador's Cup/Courage Cup in Virginia. Beautiful day, beautiful scenery, the best company--the Liquid Muse and I headed out together--and really a great charitable cause. A truly well-executed event all around. Cap File used Star Catering: they're new and they're top notch. There was good people watching: it almost seemed a little Bridgehamptony, save for no celebrity sightings and fewer people (and no champagne splits with straws). Then the polo announcer got on the mic, and he had the most deeply-rooted southern Virginia accent I've ever heard, although he seemed quite knowledgable about polo. But it was hilarious and kind of brought the whole thing home.

Side note: we had the MOST refreshing drink, perhaps ever, in the Ambassador's tent: champagne on the rocks with a twist of lime. Sounds weird, I know (or maybe it's really common and I've never come across it). It was the perfect drink on a hot, hot day.

Sunday: Relaxing on Kent Island with family.

The perfect summer weekend.

R. Nichols Sale!
All notecards at my favorite stationer, R. Nichols, are 30% off between now and July 1 if you use the codeword SURPRISE. He's an amazing man, and even better stationer (if that's even possible), so definitely give his site the once-over if you haven't already. There's no better signature stationery to have than his.

He just added something new, too: single notecards, so you can amass your own custom collection!

Freak Parade
I'm trying to fill a number of positions in my department at the moment. Since my company is both cheap and in the sticks, however, pickings are slim. But if you're one of the, say, three remotely qualified candidates on paper out of the 8,000 resumes I've received, I'd like to offer up a few pointers before you head on in. Because I'm desperate, but not that desperate...*

1.) When asked a question, DON'T stop, clasp your hands, then close your eyes during the entirety of your answer. For every question. No matter how long the answer. I don't know what's running through your head during these exchanges, but here's my thought: "OPENOPENOPENOPENOPENDOITDOITSTOPFREAKINGMEOUT." Your answers could be comprehensive, insightful, they could be frigging brillliant, but I don't have a damn clue.

2.) DO notice my Chanel birks (circa 1999. They're more like Tevas, actually, and the soles are almost gone, but they kick ass). This was cause for an automatic hire during the last round (that plus the fact that she was a marketing genius, but her impeccable taste in shoes gave me the first clue).

3.) DON'T be my father's doppelgänger. Dude, I'm sorry, but a.) you look JUST like him and b.) I haven't spoken to him in 15 years, so this meeting is like an after school special that I want NO part of. I know there's really nothing you can do about it, so just accept my apology and heartfelt wish that your job search goes well. Elsewhere.

4.) DON'T try to make the six month gap between now and your last job appear more palatable by pretending that you've been a consultant since then. Or at least get your story straight before you use it as the headliner on your resume.

5.) When summarizing your past experience, DON'T start with a very long-winded explanation of your job straight out of college--when you graduated in 1985. In fact, it was at a record store, so you may just want to go ahead and delete that altogether.

6.) When I ask if you have any questions, DON'T pull out the sheet that says "Practice Interview Questions" in the header and read them, one by one, even if they've already been answered or they make no sense at all within the context of this interview.

Thanks--I'll see you in there.

*All of the above have happened in the past week. It's been a good time in HRville.

Um...really?
Okay, so I'm psyched that Mr. Louboutin is embracing the platform. And yes, he's an artistic genius whose experimentation is translated downward into fashions for the masses blahblahblah. But...is it just me or does this look like you're wearing a dyed poodle on your feet? Or a couture kiddie craft project?*

*The above observations mean that with, oh, say, 100% certainty, this will be the NEXT BIG THING, and I'll be the only stubborn one not wearing them next season.

Things I Learned On My Summer Vacation*
1.) Tory Burch has officially replaced Lilly Pulitzer as the leader in the category of Adult Garanimals.** The TRB online sale that's going on right now is fabulous--I could kick myself for not buying her embroidered flower tank before it sold out.
2.) Nicoletta's in Corolla is no longer the impeccably perfect culinary outpost it once was. In fact, it kind of sucks now and is no longer worth the drive. I think it must have changed owners. Total bummer.
3.) Going on vaca the week that Shiloh Nouvel arrives makes for incredibly vapid yet somehow deeply fulfilling trash magazine reading. Fantastic.
4.) Additional Great Beach Reading: Nasty by Simon Doonan, 4% Famous by Deborah Schoeneman. Mediocre But Still Enjoyable Beach Reading: Some Like It Haute by Julie KL Dam.
5.) The only person who really cares about the fact that you're on your summer vacation is you (...and maybe you. If not, then you can stop reading. Although you probably already have.).
6.) The person who, say, got a crappy raise from you this year because even though her work was good, your company is cheap and her attitude sucked 50% of the time, who decided to resign while you're on vacation--to your h.r. department, no less--and then call you after the fact, and again, do it while you're on vacation hence potentially throwing the remainder of your vaca into a complete death spiral, definitely does not care in the least.
7.) Packing platform shoes to a beach vacation, is, well, stupid. Good for photo ops, however. And when your far more fashionable sister is joining you on vacation, you're left with few options.
8.) Much like Virginia license plates, beach houses have officially run out of witty names. In fact, they may not have had any to begin with. So, listen: I'm really happy for you and your new purchase. But seriously, you probably had at least 60 days between the offer and closing. Could you not think of anything better than Seaclusion, Wade N See or Just Ducky? It's your house. And a million dollars, maybe more. That's the best you've got? And if so, how in the hell did you make enough money in any profession to afford not just one, but two abodes? And if you say "No Interest Loan," I'm going to beat you with the Cap'n's Watch sign you just had carved.

*Because summer vacation is all about learning. And smoking pot. But mostly learning.
**According to the Garanimals website, Garanimals,"make it easy for young children to select their own clothes, dress themselves, and through these small, successful decisions, develop early feelings of self confidence." If this doesn't describe Lilly and TRB, I don't know what does.

If you're in New York...
The DVF Sample Sale starts tomorrow morning! I will not be hunting down my beloved artichoke dress alongside you (you're lucky, because I fight to the bitter end at these things), as I'm in North Carolina at the moment. And am rather unfashionably drunk on a combination of bloody marys (a.m.), margaritas (happy hour) and red wine (p.m.), truth be told.

Rock on, fashionistas.