le calme avant l'orage...

it's design week in new york, so i've been superbusy! aside from providing exposure to the preeminent designers of today, the whole point of design week is... parties. many, many parties. parties out the waz, if you will. and of course, i've come down with a killer allergy/cold combo. rad.

i've pumped myself full of drugs and the hope that i'll be in able to work through this in 24 hours because tomorrow begins my occupational obligation to party.

as part of our event, we'll be unveiling some fantastically whimsical pieces from studio job. three words to describe them: huge, glittery, disney.

behold:

7 Lights!

go see Paul Chan's 7 Lights exhibit at the New Museum on Bowery before it closes... it's amay-may.

Proof:

oh mr. sun...

this winter has been so long... i just really miss the sunshine.

long ago, in a time called last summer, spencer and i had the most glorious mini-vacay to the jersey shore that i hope to repeat this year when the weather finally decides to act appropriately. we stayed in a creepy b&b right on the beach and shared the establishment with a very large Hasidic family.

the town, Ocean Grove, is unbelievably clean and pure (imagine Hummelville from that episode of the Simpsons when Ned grows tired of the corruption of his hometown). and, much to our surprise/chagrin, it's a dry town (say what?!) so our weekend consisted of good, wholesome fun in the sun.

children/teenagers played innocent games of tag on the beach while their parents watched an outdoor screening of Endless Summer and strangers happily bid us "good day" as we strolled down the immaculate boardwalk that remained blissfully free of all vendors and riffraff.

despite the odd blend of blandness and creepiness (a giant church with a giant crucifix overlooked the beach and served as the town's centerpiece), i really miss the beach and can't wait for the sun to break on through...

new do, new you.

after months of talking the talk without putting the money where my mouth is, i finally booked an appointment to get the asymetrical mess that i call my hair chopped and shaped back into something presentable.



i'd gotten an amazing cut last summer that i loved, but unfortunately, laziness and procrastination hindered me from keeping up with it. i had allowed myself to slip into the comfortable routine of wash-airdry-ponytail/headscarf.


i was so ashamed.



thankfully, i got my act together and headed back to arrojo where morgan, my little stylist angel, came to my rescue.


i walked in on a rainy/humid friday night, sat in the chair, removed the arsenal of bobbypins keeping my coif from total meltdown and gave him the following instructions:

"i desperately require symmetry to re-enter my daily life. i want it chic and sleek and i want serious bangs that begin from the tippy-top of my head."


he delivered.
my hair is totally smooth and swingy (which is a small triumph for a woman of color who wishes her hair to be smooth and swingy) and i've actually had strangers stop me on the street, praising my new do!

so for two weeks, i was feeling fierce: the fabulous blow-out and flatiron job i'd received at arrojo was lasting surprisingly well. things were still smooth and swingy and glorious. had a minor overdose of styling product one day, but a quick application of dry shampoo totally sorted that out. but soon, i realized that i needed to actually wash my hair with real shampoo and water. to say i was nervous about achieving a polished look befitting of such a polished haircut would be an understatement.

i gave it a shot. and the results left a little something to be desired. so i decided to go on a quest to find the perfect blowout for my hair texture that wouldn't cost me a small fortune. my results are below:

1. tried out a fancy salon/shop in brooklyn called Commune. the space is adorable and they were generally pretty nice. but then, the girl who did my hair just couldn't understand why i'd want someone to just blowdry and flatiron my hair without getting a haircut. i didn't find this request to be all that unusual, but apparently it is at Commune. she did a great job (prolly the best blowout i've gotten in nyc) using essential oils and leave-in conditioners in lieu of goop and serums, but she kept telling me my hair was damaged and that i should learn to blow dry it myself. i prefer my styling without a lecture, thankyouverymuch so i decided to never go here again.

2. next i ventured into the heart of chinatown in search of the elusive $15 blow out. i found it at Top Ten Hair Salon on Pell St. but ladies of color be forewarned: the guy who did my hair was totally offensive and borderline racist (the first thing he said to me upon viewing my towel-dried hair was, "how am i going to blow dry this?"). he did an okay job (i ended up having to re-flat iron a few sections and use some of my own product when I got home), but the low price tag is not worth enduring his frowny face and snide comments for half an hour. now of course, i can't speak for all the hair salons in chinatown, but i'd definitely recommend NOT going to this one if you are anything other than Asian or caucasian. oy!

3. the next place on my list is a salon run by sassy Dominicans... i think they'll know how to treat a sistah of ambiguous ethnicity better than all the rest. fingers crossed!

ambi-turners!

thanks to emily, i got a chance to go to a show for a pair of up-and-coming young designers during NY fashion week. Jordi Scott. their aesthetic is decidedly west coast and they opened up the shabang with a mini burlesque performance courtesy of some mildly famous East Village burlesque sisters whose name is escaping me at the mo...

anyway, fashion is a lot more fun to see than to read to about, so here's 9,000 words... metaphorically:

selam superstar...

peanut butter puppy time!

i totally got a puppy...

the deets:
t'is a girl
her name's nina
she's 11 weeks old
part chihuahua, part magic

consider me enamored...

christmas time is heeeeerrreeee!

kelly, spencer, and i braved the wintry wind and gentle snowfall to check out all the fabulous windows on 5th avenue and they did not disappoint! we got a couple of hot chocolates from a streetcart and began working our way down 5th. bergdorf, saks, barneys, henri bendel... they were all amazing! behold...

cut and paste...

i've had the most wonderful sunday so far...

woke up late and stuffed my face with warm apple pie and vanilla bean ice cream while watching back to back episodes of sex and the city on demand.

after that girlfest, i met up with my beloved sean for a semi-greasy, yet unbelievably delicious brunch at the newish cafe up the street. one bacon, egg and cheese sandwich and a couple of hours later, i finally decided to tackle one of my many DIY projects that's been waiting in the wings. a couple months ago i bought a truly heinous kitchen table at ikea that i abhor. it's pine and blocky and square; i hate it. so i figured i'd do something about it and decoupage my heart out.

so i headed over to my friendly neighborhood junk shop and sifted through about a million old magazines. popular science, popular mechanics, vogue, vanity fair, sheet music, and comics as far as the eye can see. briefly stopped to drool over an issue of Paper from 1995 with a pre-haggard thurston moore on the cover and a tiny article with my 8th grade mtv crush, squirt tv genius, jake fogelnest. a fellow rummager pointed out a hilarious headline from 1973 about how strip clubs provide lonely housewives with a much-needed sense of emotional fulfillment. finally narrowed my choices down to a handful and headed up to the sassy japanese guy enjoying a hoagie at the register. the total: $18.42. i had exactly 42 cents in my pocket. i felt the need to note this aloud and the guy at the counter responded in heavily accented english, "it's times like these that i find life is beautiful."

i walked home, smiling to myself.

well-dressed, well-coiffed, well-connected...

a few months after the renovation of our showroom was finally complete, we had our opening party/ICFF party. in true Design Week fashion, it was dazzling and our new space was all abuzz with the social twitter of the well-dressed, the well-coiffed, and the well-connected.

the party was an utter success, due mostly to the following:


slightly attractive male model/waiters who supplied the schmoozers with tasty hors d'oeuvres served on flashy grouted boards of glass mosaic tiles

tasty hors d'oeuvres


peace biscuit!!! new wave/throwback DJ extraordinaire with a tiny voice and a huge personality

my dress made a huge splash with the design-y sect. got lots o' compliments on my DVF - one fellow who was more than just a little reminiscent of that "i can't believe he's not a stud" fabio stopped me as i made me way from the dancefloor and demanded, "WHO does your dress?!" i responded in my flighty fashionista voice and he gasped a little, hand on chest, "ah! i LOVE diane."

between glasses of prosecco and sweaty twirls on the dancefloor, i managed to take a few piccies of various work-related people and their dates. there were a slew of fancy italian ladies in fabulous italian fabrics, jewel tones, and fine tweeds in unnatural colors.

spencer looked amazing in his new vest. tiya and aaron were both super festive/fab.

my new girllove, karen showed up with her fanciful friend and they danced the night away in adorable smock dresses and comically oversized spectacles.

at a respectable hour, the party began to wind down and we decided to go to dinner. reservations for 25 at Butter. holla.

indulged in a bit more booze, delicious sea bass and asparagus with shallots. tasty, tasty.


a more than satisfactory monday night...

lightstick's back... alright!

train to coney island. hot dogs. hippies/lightsticks/hipsters/2nd hand pot. dancing beefcake in tight red tank who totally looked like he belonged in a remake of saturday night fever. ran into college friends. amazing light show. robot helmets and seamless mash-ups.

long f-train ride home. standing up from coney island to park slope. possibly had a small world encounter with one half of that hipster dj duo i loved from pianos.

lessons learned:
daft punk shows are amazing
coney island is really far away
cowboy boots are not appropriate concert footwear.

on 11!

about a month ago, i turned 25. i went out. and now, a sufficient amount of time has finally passed, thus enabling me to view the following pictures without vomming...