Happy New Year!

What I wish I was wearing tonight...

What I will probably BE wearing tonight...

I guess babysitters are at a premium because I could not find anyone to watch the kids tonight. So Cooper and I have decided to have a pensive start to a very busy new year.

May you all have a happy, healthy, superbly-stylish 2011!

Snow Boots

These are the only shoes I have that are even remotely appropriate for the crazy amount of snow we received this holiday. Apparently, W magazine thinks these are the perfect winter snow boot.

As much as I'd love to agree, having worn these Jimmy Choo fur lined biker boots for the past 2 winters, I know that this is DEFINITELY not the case.

In fact, last year when it wasn't nearly as bad, the snow dumped quite easily into the top of the boot leaving me with wet fur and socks :(

So how is a stylish gal to keep dry feet without looking like she is headed for the slopes of Aspen?

Anyone?





Chanel Spring '11 Nail Colors



Clockwise from top left: Pearl Drop, Peche Nacree, and (my favorite) Black Pearl



So long Particulieres, HELLOOOOO Black Pearl! It's like a Tahitian pearl melting on the tip of your finger.

What? Not available until January?! I need this NOW!!!

End of an Era

No, the world wide web has not crashed, Santa is still coming on the 25th, and the diamond mines of South Africa have not exploded BUT the shock of Carine Roitfeld's resignation from French Vogue hs rocked the fashion world.
I have to admit, I'm surprisingly more upset than I thought I'd be upon hearing of her departure. She has always been a great source of inspiration on days where I've fallen ill to the "38 Yr. Old Mom Syndrome."
I mean, look at her! 56, smokin' hot, the cool mom AND brilliant business woman - my hero.
You will be greatly missed, Carine!

JAR Part II

So JAR Paris is now but a fond memory, and hopefully being enjoyed by all of Elle's many super-stylish friends (Please refer to previous post if this statement confuses you.)

Fortunately, Mr. Rosenthal must have felt pity for us poor souls who desperately long to become a member of his secret cult - because deep in the inner reccesses of Bergdorf Goodman, past the sea of Moncler coats and Valentino bags, beyond Lancôme and Chanel, there exists a tiny cavern. In a space no bigger than a large dressing room, lies the inner sanctum of JAR. No, this shrine does not house his mesmerizing jewelry per se; but rather, jewels he has created for one's olefactory receptors.

Yes, JAR perfume.
Now, I've never been a huge perfume fan - but JAR perfume? I'm in!

7 fragrances (comprised of top secret ingredients) are "experienced" in this mystical purple alcove before you are allowed to purchase. And although the whole process may involve a tinge of pretension and pageantry, the lovely gentleman helping me, Franz, could not have been any nicer. (Note to self : Customer service goes a long way!) He also happened to be delightfully, drop dead gorgeous - which never hurts... 

After he unleashes each fragrance from under it's own bell jar, I sample the 3 that I like best:
Bolt of Lightning
Jarling
Ferme tes Yeux. 
Being the Libra that I am, I'm completely and utterly unable to make a decision - each fragrance so unique and vastly different from the other 2.
What is a gal to do?!
Well...
I did end up purchasing a JAR fragrance before I left Bergdorf's that afternoon - but not for myself. It was simply too daunting a task. Instead, I purchased the experience for my incredibly supportive and fashion-obsessed girlfriend, Amy. I knew she would have no problem choosing a fragrance right away as she is an Aquarian and has NO difficulty making decisions (in fact, she went in right away and picked out Jardinia with no hesitation).
So, once again, JAR has escaped me - but not for long. I'm leaning towards Bolt of Lightning - I think...

A Replacement JAR

I have long admired (from afar) the jewelry of  JAR. J A R - the initials of one Bronx-born, Harvard educated, Parisian transplant, Joel Arthur Rosenthal . An artist so exclusive and elusive that he is simply known by his initals. If you are unfamiliar with his work, you probably recognize it in the thousands of knock-offs his pieces have "inspired." 

Forget that his Place Vendôme shop has never had a single jewel in the window, is open only by appointment and that it could take upwards of a year to attain so much as that. Forget that the man has never advertised or sent out a press release, never had any formal jewelry training and does no bench work. He is the most sought after designer in the luxury jewelry world by mastering the art of creating demand through exclusivity. How much do his pieces go for, you ask? Well, you know the old saying, "If you have to ask..." so don't.

Several years ago, I was fortunate enough to own a copy of his tome, JAR Paris. It was published based on a London retrospective of his work and I proudly displayed the book on my coffee-table for all to admire and enjoy. One evening, as I hosted a birthday dinner for one of my dear girlfriends, being the absent minded BRILLIANTLY GENEROUS person that I am, and realizing that I did not have a present for her, I casually put it in her hands at the end of a wine-filled night as she could not stop salivating over the images on every page.

Well, I had every intention of replacing it right away, but life has a way of spending $250 on many other necessities before finally getting around to a coffee table book - even a JAR coffee table book.

Anyhow, a few years go by and I have, in fact, forgotten about said book until I come across a copy on Ebay.  BUY IT NOW - $4,500.00. WHAT!!! Surely this is a mistake. I start to panic. No, I start to feel sick. I know this is no mistake and that I will probably never own a piece of JAR ever again (sob sob).
To be continued...

In the meantime, have a look-see.



Ellen Barkin's infamous topaz and diamond earrings auctioned off at Christie's sold for over 10 times their estimate.

 



Pair of white and faint pink diamond cuffs





Thousands of pave set diamonds, sapphires, and amethysts make up JAR's Iris brooch.



One of his signature flat diamond thread rings 



Cabochon emerald thread ring















Daniel Ost

 Aside from dreams of diaperless days, uninterrupted sleep and owning everthing in Kate Moss' closet, I dream of picking flowers out of the garden and creating a SPECTACULAR arrangement. No, not just a huge bunch of peonies placed prettily in a silver teapot. I mean a massive variety of flowers that complement each other via size, color and texture. An arrangement that inspires you to do beautiful things.
Check out the work of Belgian floral designer/artist Daniel Ost - my dream is his life. If you aren't familiar with Daniel Ost, google him RIGHT NOW, then go straight to http://www.amazon.com/ and buy his book Invitations II.
His first Invitations book is one of my favorites. Enjoy a tiny sampling of his installations below and be inspired!

Awareness

I am a snob. Yes, I admit it - I am a snob. Not a mean snob - just a clueless snob.
The 1st time my husband called me a snob 7 years ago, I vehemently denied it and thought - what does he know about snobbery. He's from Jersey, where they know mob - not snob (yes, I know how bad that sounds but keep reading).
Last week on my way home from work, my car starts to sputter and eventually dies as I pull into a service station lot. Not good. When I realize that I am not going to make it home in one piece I immediately dial my darling husband and relay the tragic news to him. Without missing a beat, he tells me to call AAA and stay put (as if I had a choice).  He would throw the kids in the car and come to my rescue. As I breathe a sigh of relief, I can't help but feel a tinge of guilt about dragging the kids out in the freezing cold, way past their bedtime. So, I muster up the feminist buried DEEP within me and spew out, "I'm fine. Don't come. I'll hitch a ride with the tow truck driver."
Complete silence at the other end. "Really?" he finally responds, and I know it's too late and too wrong to say, "no, just kidding." "Really." I say, a little more quietly this time but I hear him breathe a sigh of relief and I feel better about my decision.
So an eternity goes by and I see the flashing lights of a monster truck behind me. OMG, what have I done? Am I REALLY to get into a car with a complete stranger? A tow truck driver, no less, with whom I have never even exchanged 2 words? He could be ANYBODY -  fresh out of prison for abducting his ex-girlfriend. Yes, my mind went there...
As I flag him down, he gets out of the truck, walks over to me and asks to see my AAA card. He must have noticed that my hand was shivering as I hand him my card because the first thing he says to me is, "you can get in my truck while I take care of this. It's nice and warm in there." Not exactly the words of a  kidnapper. Actually, kinda sounds like something Cooper would say. Well, I'm freezing so I grab my bag and hoist myself into the cab of his truck. True to his word, the heat was blasting and I start to defrost.
"Better?" he asks as he gets in. "Much." I reply. "Where to?" he asks. After giving him directions home, we exchange polite conversation - mostly about where we grew up, where we've travelled, jobs, etc...
What a VASTLY different life he has led. 40 yrs. old and still living in the town where he was born, never having travelled anywhere north of New York, south of North Carolina or east of Pennsylvania. He laughs when I explain what a wardrobe stylist does and that handbags can cost upwards of $50,000. Actually, I laugh at that as well. And as we laugh, there is no judgement, no distain - just 2 people sharing stories, experiences, life.
Later that evening as I lay in bed, my husband gives me a kiss on the head and tells me know proud of me he is. And I say,"Yes, you should be. Not because I made it home solo, sans rescue - but because my snob meter has come down a notch...or 2."

I think I see him smile before I fall asleep - smiling.