I remember when I first starting looking at Vogue in the 1970’s. I was in junior high school, living in Miami (which was super sleepy, almost a hick town, honestly) and living on my mother’s seamstress salary. Obviously, I wasn’t shopping for anything in Vogue, but I was dreaming. And here’s the thing, it wasn’t all about the clothes. The 70’s was a pretty dismal time economically, gas lines, etc. Vogue was an escape, especially for a young girl who had a desire to “get to the big city.” And that big city would be New York, of course. Oh, and throw Paris in while you’re at it. There were plenty of sexy, cool images (think Helmut Newton) and there were exotic locations and SUPER skinny models and everyone seemed to be dating a glam rocker (like Bryan Ferry). It was cool, and far away and UNDERGROUND. Because there was an underground then. Word of mouth was it, back then. If you weren’t connected you were out.
True, we often look back on our life and think it was better back then... Everyone does it, and ultimately it was never much better and often it was worse. But if I was a fashion magazine I’d work toward making things a bit more surreal, a lot more out of reach and as underground as possible. This concept may fly in the face of current thinking — we are all citizen reporters, aren’t we? Everything is accessible, right? BUT, that’s what made those books interesting in the bad old days. Or, I guess fashion can just accept that their bibles are on the way out. I sure do hope not, ‘cause there are still a lot of dreamers out there. Little girls, and big girls.
I come from a place of ‘Fendi before Food’ when it comes to rough times—economic or otherwise. Carrie Bradshaw famously said: "When I first moved to New York and I was totally broke, sometimes I bought Vogue instead of dinner. I found it fed me more."
More often than I like to admit, I have marched right on by the corner deli and into Intermix to buy myself a present. It’s amazing how a new top or bangle can fill me right up when washed down with a Diet Coke. To honor this spotty logic, I’ve asked the girls to rebel against the “Fabulous for Under $10” epidemic we’re all in, and to send me their picks for “Fabulous for Over $1,000.” Take that, economy.
I have lusted over a mirrored bedroom set for years now. But the fact that I have yet to live in any city for longer than three years has really cramped my style. Regardless, someday I hope to see myself reflected back at…myself…from a room brimming with mirrored furnishings that make me feel like I live in Paris circa 1922. This Haute House collection at Neiman Marcus (minus the headboard) will do me just fine. Price? $2,997.00. Bargain basement this is not.
Although I currently spend the bulk of my $$'s on cabs (to avoid the onslaught of the after-work rush hour) and my love of shoes, if I could purchase anything in the world it would be art. The barren walls of my apartment are really in need of Joan Miro, a Spanish Catalan painter, sculptor and ceramist born in Barcelona. I’m not the only person thinking this so his works are pricey at best. But we all know where my next $40K is going.
- I love Chanel.
- I’m trying to branch out of my overly black wardrobe and bring a little color into my life (Joe and Jesse would be so proud!)
- How amazing would this look with a pair of over-the-knee leather boots...and my great-great grandmother’s vintage mink hat? Mmmmm.
I was harassing Dania in my sweet little way (I started trash talking Ohio) to get her pick and this is what she sent:
WHAT: Cartier Love Bracelet, yellow gold with diamonds
WHY: Because I LOVE ME and I deserve it!
Price available upon request. (Hoytie Toytie, Little D.)