Operation Fine Tune

The Wish List

Saturday night, me and my Crew invaded (by invitation, of course) my Bestie's home to help celebrate her daughter's graduation from veterinary school. It was a tight circle of friends and family, some of whom we only see once every few years. So the men, most of whom fall into the "Cool Cat" category, were free flowing with their obligatory greetings of "you're looking as lovely as ever," (to which I only half jokingly reply "well, thank God because I'm trying harder than ever!"), "you look younger every time I see you," and my personal favorite "you always have a Parisian actress on vacation kinda style." Now I must point out that I am neither French, nor a Thespian, but found great pleasure in imagining myself as Sophie Marceau sipping her morning coffee at the Hotel Du Cap overlooking the French Riviera. I was jolted back to reality by a tiny set of hands urging me to snap Barbie's torso back together.

I am no stranger to compliments, my Husbear, with his slowly deteriorating 1/2 century eyes reassures me that I "still look good." Noah, however, showers me with the ultimate praises ranging from "Ooooh, you have hair under your arms?" to "Mommy, your tummy is so soft... and mushy like play-doh" Now THAT's love!

So this all brings me to Sunday morning standing in front of the bathroom mirror, assessing....

My beauty regime has always been a little lack luster, I've forever admired the pretty collection of jars, bottles, brushes, and tubes that line the vanities of the "It" girls. My vanity adheres to a strict diet of La Prairie Skin Caviar, Cetaphil body cream and Clinique Black Honey lipsrick. 

Is it time to step it up a notch and join the Cool Girl's Club? If so, do I start from the top of my thinning, two-toned, head of hair on down or do I slowly make my way up beginning with my pedicure starved feet. The toes look dire so I decide to start there. Every 18 inches or so I stop to analyze and take notes. By the time I reach my neck, I conclude that I've already spent one child's college tuition on "Operation Fine Tune," and stop before I get to my face so that we can actually pay our morgage every month.

Feeling slightly defeated, I'm pulled out of my pity party by the Barbie Terminator, who would like to know if I would like "a smooth beautiful complexion? Because you can't buy Pro Active in the stores, this incredible deal is only available for a limited time through this special tv offer." 

Scary...I'm tempted to cancel our cable.

I  force a smile and say, "Thanks Camilla, I think I'm good for now. " She shrugs and wanders off singing,  "Let it go, Let it go...."

Words of wisdom by a 5 year old. Let it go, indeed. 

Signed with a Spritz

Available at luckyscent.com

Women have long been told that they should have a signature scent. While I whole heartedly agree with this statement, I am quick to add - so should men. There is nothing sexier on a man (in this case, my husband, since he is the only man I am allowed to consider sexy, except for Bradley Cooper - but since they share a name he is considered a free pass) than a sultry, smokey, masculine cologne, and good socks, but I digress...

I recently found myself at The W Shop in the W Hotel. For those who may not know this gem of a boutique, within the confines of about 200 square feet, The W Shop has a finely edited selection of clothing, shoes, books, skincare, sex toys and anything else you may have not wanted TSA to see forgotten at home. Now while I wouldn't suggest the vibrating rabbit for your great aunt Mildred, this tiny boutique is a wonderful "go to spot" for that "hard to shop for" cool girl or stylin' guy in your life.

On this particular rainy afternoon, as I do my loop around the store, I am drawn to the fragrance corner where I spy a handful of cologne options. Being the ever doting and curious wife, I pick up the tester bottle of 2 Man by Comme des Garcons. I sniff the nozzle and deem it worthy of a spritz so I ask the lovely sales associate, who has aleady given me an emphatic greeting, for a tester card to sample said product. After repeated pumps of the nozzle, I conclude that the tester is empty. Ms. W quickly reaches into a locked cabinet to look for a replacement tester. Much to our dismay, I am HOLDING the replacement tester and it is bone dry - images of my 2011 Thanksgiving turkey run through my head - again, digression...

Right about now, Husband wanders in to see how much money I am not spending and sees me stuffing the bottle up my nose as I try to inhale it's remaining 4 fragrance molecules. He looks embarrassed so I pull the bottle out of my left nostril and say "I thought you might like this." Given that he is my husband and has witnessed the birth of our children, a snot covered cologne bottle does not really phase him. He takes a whiff of the nozzle and concludes that he's pretty sure he likes it but would like to try it on. Ms. W apologizes and explains that they are currently out of testers. Apparently, guests of the hotel like to use the boutique as their own private vanity and will often times spritz available samples on themselves 3-4 times a day for the duration of their stay. Cheap bastards!

"No worries," I say, "Let's just open up a bottle if you're out of testers," to which she replies, "I am only allowed to open tester bottles."

Hmmm... what would Karen Katz do (please feel free to google Karen Katz)? Of course, being the offspring of retailers and having worked in the fashion industry as both an employee and business owner for over 25 years, I know the answer to that question. Undoubtedly, Ms. Katz, upon noting that the tester was empty, would have opened up a bottle of store stock - without hesitation. She is, however, the CEO of a major luxury retailer and can do whatever the fuck she wants. I do not know the circumstances behind Ms. W's refusal to do so. Who knows, perhaps she was on a final corrective and any deviation from policy and procedure would have warranted termination. I can't say, but what I can say is that W lost a sale and a customer that day - not just for the occasion, but going forward. I find it hard to patronize a business where they would choose a $120 bottle of cologne over servicing a customer - one who was actually ready and willing to make a purchase. W Hotel, in the business of hospitality, was not very hospitable.

But back to the yumminess that is 2 Man - it's an earthy combination of Vetiver root, mint, leather and mahogany. For those of you who feel this is a bit too testosterone driven, it does have suble undertones of kumquat, nutmeg and saffron to bring balance without too much floral or citrus. It is so balanced, in fact, that the Libra in me wants to douse it (evenly) all over my body (which is all very well and good as it is being marketed as a "unisex, androgynous" fragrance, despite the name).

At the end of the day, the W experience did do me a favor. It left me wanting more, and in the entertainment world, that is considered a win.

Go get Comme des Garcon 2 Man - you need this in your life.

Leila Menchari



While my dreams usually consist of a huge walk-in closet overflowing top to bottom with Lanvin, out of the creative mind of Leila Menchari comes a whole other realm of beauty - filled with romantic locations, luxurious fabrics and skins, dazzling jewels, and exotic floral and fauna. Madame Menchari has been the design director for Hermès since 1977 and once a year, we all get to take a voyage into her imagination when Hermès reveals their Christmas windows at their Faubourg Saint-Honore store.
Leila Menchari was born near Hammamet Tunisia in 1928. Her love of the arts was most likely nurtured via her neighbors - a bohemian American couple, Jean and Violet Henson who eventually adopted young Leila as their "Spiritual Daughter" (as they had no children). The Hensons, who built their dream home in Hammamet, made from ancient Roman columns and pediments and filled with exotic treasures acquired from their years of travel, encouraged Menchari to enroll at the l’école Nationale Supérieure des Beaux-Arts. Soon after Leila graduated she met fellow Tunisian, Azzedine Alaia, whe introduced her to the world of Fashion. It was through him that she became the house model for couturier Guy Laroche. This was a short-lived profession as she was quickly recruited by Hermès as their head illustrator. In 1977 she appointed head stylist by none other than Jean Louis Dumas Hermès, himself.
I did my best to edit the windows according to variety but you should feel free to "like" Hermès on Facebook and have a look at ALL the spectacular windows to truly appreciate her genius.

Skress Case

It's over. Yes, I'm totally convinced. Winter is over - in June. I'm going to tackle the coat closet and put away big fat Michelin Man puffers, fuzzy shearlings and heavy 3/4 wool coats until next season (the 90 day countdown begins).
As I start to pull out my "summer wardrobe," I'm feeling a void - especially in the skirt department. The skirt, for the last several years, has been the red-headed step-sister to the dress. Each time I'd reach for her in my closet, I'd hear my LBDs tauntingly whisper, "you know you love me more...she's so fussy and high maintenance. She needs constant adjusting and now you need to spend another 5 minutes looking for her sibling who will undoubtedly need to be re(half) tucked for the duration of the day. Really? Ain't nobody got time for that."
"But I miss her, " I'd bemoan. Eventually, I'd succumb to the pressure and throw on one of my dozen or so LBDs and be out the door in 2 minutes flat - easy, breezy, lemon squeezy. Such has been the scenario for the past 3 years.
This year, however, I'm on a mission. Now that the weather has appeared to have stabilized at Californian friendly temperatures (for you East Coasters, that means over 74 degrees), I'm jonesing for skirts. Perhaps, I've subconsciously developed skirt envy after folding and hanging fluffy mounds of tulle and gauzy liberty printed versions into Camilla's wardrobe. She, unlike her fickle mother, has declared her undying allegiance to the skirt for the better part of her entire life (5 whole years).
Now being a transplanted Southern Cal kinda gal, 70 degrees still leaves me wanting a little coverage to warm up my perpetually thin blood so I think I've come up with the perfect compromise of form, function and style. The SKRESS!
Skress - noun.  A two piece ensemble consisting of a dress and pullover sweater (or top) that makes the dress appear to be a skirt.
Alright, I'm committed. Not only do I get a little extra warmth from the 2 layers, which is a blessing when indoor air conditioned temperatures usually hover around 71 degrees, but I get to recycle all the previously loved dresses that have been relegated to the cavernous recesses of my closet. I'm feeling very good about the recycling part, as our summer vacation is fast approaching and my name is suddenly going to go from Mrs. Mimi James to the initials ATM. My Husbear firmly believes that Disney owes parents 1 free admission to Disneyland for each child (at least once in their lives) as a thank you for being suckered into buying Lightning McQueen toothpaste, Frozen bedroom sets and Little Mermaid tricycles (with 3 kids, this list, should I choose to continue, would be longer than Atlas Shrugged so I will spare your battery life by stopping at 3 examples).
Despite being financially indebted to Disney, I decide I need a new skress outfit. Please refer to exhibit A.

Exhibit A      Theory top and dress

This bring us to the skress test (I know, I never met a pun I didn't like).
I asked 4 girlfriends, whose opinions I value for various reasons (coolness, intelligence, wit, and the ability to cook a meal and feed 4 hungry mouths while wearing a couture ballgown), their critique of the skress and why it works or doesn't work for them.
Angela remarked that I looked as though I'd recently escaped from a mental institution - she was not far off as I had just come to work straight from home. When I told her it was my new most favorite outfit and that it was ok, we could agree to disagree, she told me it hurt her heart to disagree with me... gotta love that girl.
Amy told me it was the least sexy outfit she's ever seen. Fair enough, but there are days when I am in the least sexy mood I've ever been in and that I, in my utilitarian, no nonsense skress, was the personification of such a state of mind. Plus, Rihanna stole my other look at the CFDA's (Please do not get me started on this outfit. I have 4 words - The Emperor's New Clothes). Amy, eventually admitted that the skress had a certain je ne sais quoi. Score!  Skress 1  Rihanna 14,554,410.
Both Christina R. and Christina Ballgown approved of the look - Christina 1 even bought the same outfit!
While the days of skress dressing may be limited, due to the fact that it will soon be hotter than a Texas whore house on nickel night, fear not my friends. Somewhere under that top or sweater is a pretty little dress, either new or recycled, that some may even deem sexy.

My Summer has Officially Started!

             

Little League season officially ended this morning, and so did my chronic bad mood...

My girlfriend, Alex, recently commented on watching paint dry and I couldn't help but think I'd rather watch paint dry than sit in the hot, humid, scorching bleachers (10 weeks ago when the season started it was freezing cold) watching 2 hours of my son's baseball game. Ok, I know that sounds bad but I DID do it - for the past 10 weeks, 4 games a week (both boys signed up this year). I supported my would-be Derek Jeters and yelled, "Good eye, good eye" from behind the fence every time they didn't strike out.

Ah, the crazy things love makes you do.

In my early 20's I had a boyfriend once mention that he LOVED a specific Alaia sweater on Drew Barrymore, so off to Charles Gallay (yes, I said Charles Gallay - that's how long ago that was) I trot to buy the same exact, dangerously lowcut, nipple grazing, waist cinching Alaia sweater - let's not even talk about spending my entire month's RENT on the damn thing. The sweater snagged on his motorcycle jacket and as I burst into tears, I realized that I loved the sweater more than I loved him.
Five years and 5 boyfriends later, the new "Love of my Life" told me that all he wanted in a partner was someone who could bake like Martha Stewart. I spent the next 3 months at Williams Sonoma buying mixers and tart pans, scouring recipes from Gourmet and Bon Apetit, and learning all the tricks of the trade - perfecting my tarte tatin. Well, turned out what he REALLY wanted in a partner was a blonde 5'9" 20 yr. old version of Martha. To this day I hate tarte tatin.

But back to baseball....

I love my boys and because I love them I sit with the other moms at 9am on Saturday mornings, freezing or near heat-exhaustion, urging them to run, run, run. And when they don't run fast enough, I wipe away tears and runny noses. And when that's still not enough consolation, I offer them the next best thing to a home run...my tarte tatin.

Yes, the crazy things love makes you do...

The Year of the Mule

The Mule - Shoe of Choice for Cinderella and Pretty Woman.
You can find them in the toy aisle of Target - a six pack (well, 12 pack) sold in a mini vinyl suitcase so that your little Disney princess has accessorizing options for her favorite polyester ballgowns

OR
at Fredrick's of Hollywood, where they are sold next to crotchless panties and red lace push up bras.
Here, the options are aplenty - with platform, no platform, rhinestones, feathers, vinyl, lace, hot pink or leopard.

OR
at Bergdorf Goodman in the...
Say what?
Yup. The mule is EVERYWHERE this spring and I'm slowly warming up this "not-quite feminist" shoe du jour. A few of my favorites include:

Chloe available @chloe.com

Gianvito Rossi Available @bergdorfgoodman.com

Kathryn Amberleigh available @kathrynamberleigh.com

Buyer BEWARE:

Do not attempt to pair these with your favorite Alaia corset top or your Herve Leger bandage dress lest you run the risk of being mistaken for a "happy hour companion" at The Peninsula.

Opt, instead, for a flowy midi skirt and blouse. Or, better yet, throw on a baggy jean - either cropped to the ankle or cuffed (as pulling your pant hem out from under foot is very "Un-Cinderella.")

Vive La Normcore!

Photo: Courtesy of www.levi.com

About a month ago, my super duper hardcore fashionista friend Blake introduced me to the term “normcore.”  I think he used it in the following phrase, “ Whoa Babe, what the hell are you wearing? Is that a Levi’s jacket, for reals? OMG, you’re sooo normcore – I LOVE it!!!” Never one to let a (back-handed) compliment go unrecognized or unappreciated,  I responded with, “Yes, it is and yes, I am! Thank you so very much."

After some extensive journalistic digging  (ok, I googled it and it popped up at the top of the list) I found the following:                                                                                                                                 

The New York Times described the sub-cultural phenomenon known as "normcore" to be:                

  Normcore (noun) 1. A fashion movement, c. 2014, in which scruffy young urbanites swear off the tired street-style clichés of the last decade — skinny jeans, wallet chains, flannel shirts — in favor of a less-ironic (but still pretty ironic) embrace of bland, suburban anti-fashion attire. (See Jeans, mom. Sneakers, white.)                                                                                                                                                                                   2. A sociocultural concept, c. 2013, having nothing to do with fashion, that concerns hipster types learning to get over themselves, sometimes even enough to enjoy maiUnstream pleasures like football along with the rest of the crowd.                                                                                                                                                                                   3. An Internet meme that turned into a massive in-joke that the news media keeps falling for.              

Well, f*** you, Blake (spoken with utmost affection). Vogue tells me that my oversized Levi’s jacket will be the perfect transitional spring piece to throw over my floods and button downs (Please refer to below image to see validation.)                                                                           

http://www.vogue.com/vogue-daily/article/best-jeans-denim-jacket-skirt-shirt-for-spring/?intcid=denim_module#/gallery/denim-guide/7.  

I’ll pair it back to leather leggings and a sweater to wear through the last of April’s chilly days and in June, or I’ll throw it over a not-too-mini skirt with (my new fave) Rag & Bone slip-ons à la Joan Smalls  (Exhibit A) 



Exhibit A      Courtesy of BFAnyc.com

Photo Courtesy of The Blonde Salad

In fact, I’m pulling that bad boy out of the closet right now and layering it over a hoodie to wear to my son’s soccer game. I may even rent a damn minivan and really go balls out (pun totally intended). Normcore, I think I love you.                                              

But back to the Levi’s jacket…Ladies (and Gents), it’s the Levi’s Trucker Jacket. Gals, I highly recommend buying the men's version for that slightly oversized, '90's, comfy-cash look.     You can find it on the Levi’s website:                                                                                          http://us.levi.com/product/index.jsp?productId=21933766&view=all&cos=n&&cp=3146842.3146845.3146860.11896263                                                                                                                                                                        

At under $100, you need this in your life.

I Love Mrs. John L. Strong

February and March are birthday months in our house. Within a period of 5 weeks,  I will have baked 3 cakes, purchased 6 dozen cupcakes, 3 ice cream cakes, 6 dozen balloons, and stuffed about a thousand little plasticky non-chokable goodies into bags. Now, I do realize that I am not the only mom that puts forth the valiant effort to ensure that her precious angels pass out from a sugar coma after a full day of celebration, but somehow, I truly believe I deserve some sort of recognition, praise, or a shopping splurge after this annual extravaganza.
So, what IS my reward? I have the PRIVILEGE of writing out 100 thank you cards. Perhaps I'm being ungrateful. I guess I should be feeling warm and fuzzy over the fact that my children are the objects of such affection that we now have zero sight of the hardwood floor that exists under the mountains of toys that litter the ground. But back to the cards...
I love a present as much as the next girl but I would MUCH rather buy it myself than write a thank you card. Oh well, what must be done, must be done. At least it's an excuse to take a trip to my favorite stationer, Mrs. John L. Strong, and peruse the aisles for a new stash of thank you notes. For those of you who are unfamiliar with the brand, feel free to check out their website at http://www.mrsstrong.com/ . They are one of a dying breed of stationers that employ old world techniques, including hand engraving of their dies and plates, hand bordering of each card, hand lining of every envelope and hand finishing of every item they produce.
So, in case your asking yourself exactly how much all this involved "handy" work will set you back... Well, it ain't cheap. Roughly $125 for a set of 20 cards with coordinating envelopes. It must be the masochist in me that jumps at the opportunity to spend hundreds of dollars to complete a chore I put right up there with cleaning out the garage. But, for some strange reason, when I sit down to write out a thank you on a Mrs. Strong card, my pen glides smoother, the words come easier and the time passes quicker.
I think I once heard that surrounding yourself with beautiful things makes all of life's efforts easier. It could very well be that I said that, because I DO believe it to be true.
So, here's to my beautiful children and Mrs. John L. Strong.

Red Lipstick



Rita Wilson once revealed to me that Tom Hanks hated her in red lipstick. I found that to be quite surprising at the time because every guy I'd ever dated went NUTS (in a good way) whenever I'd wear it.
So, as I was speed reading through my pile of WWD's one Sunday morning I casually tossed out there that I wanted to stop by the YSL counter for a new red lipstick I'd seen, to which Cooper replied, "Really?"
Now for those who don't know my husband, a typical response would've been, "Let's go - I'll drop the kids off at Mom's house." So, "Really?" kinda made my heart sink a little bit.
Is it possible that I've never noticed his aversion to red lipstick in the 7 years we've been together?
Perhaps I wasn't reading him quite right. That had to be it. So I re-phrased my original request, "I LOVE that red lipstick has made such a huge comeback. Do you think I should go buy one?"
Dead silence.
"Cooper?"
"Hmmm?"
"The lipstick?"
"Oh yes, well, Sweetie, it's just, you know, kinda formal. But I guess it depends on the occasion and outfit."
Once again - not the answer I was looking for. So I gave it one last go, "Do you like red lipstick on ME?"
After careful thought he says, "I suppose I'm just not used to seeing you in red lipstick. But whatever you wear looks beautiful. You would know if it didn't."
Ah, sweet Husband. Translation - "I don't care for it in the slightest. Red lipstick makes you look like you are either employed by Ringling Bros. or the Mustang Ranch, and to top it all off, how am I, or the kids for that matter, supposed to get our daily dose of kisses - unscathed?"
Well, it's safe to say that I won't be wearing red lipstick on the daily, but despite Cooper's objection, I find it to be quite marvelous on many women - what do you think? Red lips yea or nay?



Hair

Illustration: Courtesy of Angela Keeler

I've never been particularly interested in hair. That is to say, I don't blow-dry (I'm blowdryer impaired), hate the feeling of product in my hair, and more often than not, tie it up in a knot or ponytail. I do, however, splurge on rather extravagant haircuts, so that should the urge to wear my hair down strike, I am ready - without having to blowdry.
Well, those haircuts, which used to happen every couple months, have now been spaced out to every several months (someone please suggest a great hairdresser in NJ), and I now find myself with hair down to my waist - literally.
So here's the question: Am I pushing it? Should ultra-long locks be reserved for sorority girls and reality-show stars? Such an odd dilemma, as I've never really been that attached to my hair. Over the years I've worn it in a myriad of lengths.  The shorter cuts were almost always impulsive decisions that stuck around due to my impatience with "growing it out." Once past a certain length, my laziness would inevitably creep in and voilà -  I'd become slave to the ponytail. A shame, really, because I've been told by many hairdressers that I have great hair (I'm guessing that means thick and healthy due to my inability to blowdry).
But more questions - Is it totally unrefined and way too granola for a gal in her 40's to wear her hair à la Jerry Hall circa 1977? Does it look like I'm grasping onto my fleeting youth for dear life? Does my "hotness" factor correspond to the length of my mane? Surely I am spending way too much time analyzing this situation.
Oh, where is Garren when you need him...

Sexy Shoes

Years ago I told my girlfriend Tammy, "You need a 110mm heel in your closet" not knowing that she did not even own anything higher than 2 inches. After she sheepishly admitted that she couldn't walk in high heels, I joked that she'd better RUN to buy a pair, lest some vamp in a Nicholas Kirkwood stiletto steal her husband out from under her Prada kitten heels. Cooper (the ULTIMATE high heel conoisseur), who was sitting not too far from us, couldn't help but interject "You don't wear heels? You're lucky you even have a husband."
Well, this may be Tammy's year. This spring, sexy does not have to come in the form of skyscrapers strapped to one's feet. After a multitude of seasons that have showcased the uber-high heel as a must or bust, it looks like designers are finally giving our feet and our backs a break! Now if only they'd start looking out for our bank accounts...

Giuseppe Zanotti  available @ http://www.bergdorfgoodman.com/
I want to wear these grey lavender wedges with a bright yellow sundress!



Givenchy available @ http://www.barneys.com/
For those who've asked me how to wear a bootie in the Spring/Summer...ta da!







Valentino available @ http://www.neimanmarcus.com/
Thought I was WAY over studs, but suddenly they feel so fresh again.



Lanvin available @ http://www.netaporter.com/
With denim shorts and an Alexander Wang t-shirt. Perfection!



Givenchy available @ http://www.bergdorfgoodman.com/
Make that boring black pencil skirt come to life!




Rene Caovilla available @ http://www.neimanmarcus.com/
What Girly Girl couldn't resist pearls tied with a satin ribbon?



Chloe available @ http://www.netaporter.com/
A little hipster chic for your outfit.

Celine available @ http://www.bergdorfgoodman.com/
My personal favorite. The perfect Spring sandal for days in The City.



Giambattista Valli available @ http://www.netaporter.com/
Lady-like meets the 21st century with the metal accents.





Fendi  available @ http://www.saksfifthavenue.com/
If you are a midget, like me, these platforms are a must-buy!
Plus, one of the best color-blocked shoes I've seen this season.