So this Halston dress looks pretty great, right? Pale celadon, asymmetrical, vaguely Dynasty inspired shoulder pad, open back, all over sparkly. This dress would be pretty good for a party, don’t you think? You don’t know the half of it:
Yes, this dress GLOWS IN THE DARK. Put on Electric Feel, pop the champagne, and turn off the lights, it’s party time.
I think it’s been on the racks since August, so I’m a bit behind the curve. It also retailed for $4000, so maybe this late discovery is a fashion version of trickle down economics- since it is now on sale.
Images and video from Net-a-Porter
Dress discovery from Miss Molly, who may be the only person I know who could actually pull this off.
In Wendy Goodman’s New York Magazine feature on Rosamond Bernier’s apartment, the 95 year-old Bernier says, of founding the art magazine L’OEIL, “It was everything that interested me. I would just think of things, or hear of things, or read about something, and off I would go.” I love that. If that weren’t enough, here are some pictures of her that are pretty damn fabulous. Her captions. Age 6 on her pony Teddy, after winning a cup at her first horse show. Philadelphia, 1922.At 16, she played the harp in the Philadelphia Orchestra as part of a Youth Concert Series.She moved to Acapulco in 1938 with her first husband Lewis Riley, who had properties there. Here she is with some of her menagerie.When She returned from Paris to New York, she began a career as an art lecturer. Here she is talking about Henry Moore in 1972 at the Metropolitan Museum of Art. She still wears this dress.
Meags was in town this weekend. In addition to laughing late into the night and my favorite kind of long champagney afternoon spent talking story and just flipping and flipping the same record over and over, we also did a once-over of the Brooklyn Flea (one of the last summeryfeeling days and, hey, it’s right by my house). In a moment of utter genius we impulsively purchased matching octopus necklaces. Because although each wearing half of a heart, one side saying “Best” and the other saying “Friends” is alright, knowing that I’d like to hug her across miles of I-95 with all eight of my arms is much better. We got them at Birdhouse (which has tons of awesome blingy and fun big baubles for cheep cheep). Friendship Octopus: Highly Recommended.
While I count my blessings and dimes to consider if actually buying this amazing real tiger’s claw necklace is in the cards (probable verdict: quite dubious, potentially crazy, maybe just crazy enough to work??), I just had to share. Here is some info on this British Raj-era Tiger’s Claw necklace from the awesome description the girls that run this amazing shop put up:
During the Raj, European and American jewelry markets were populated with accessories that made use of India’s dense and exotic wildlife population – elephants, tigers, lions, and other fearsome beasts, and the animals’ deadly-ass claws usually were usually the centerpiece… Since the pieces were usually made when a British officer would slay a tiger or lion for sport, we’ve seen claw jewelry engraved with information about when and where – and by whom – the animal was killed. If the fact that this piece is made from a 150-year-old endangered animal does not wow you, get ready for this – it’s also vinaigrette, which is the Victorian name for little perfume lockets that women would carry around to protect themselves from unladylike smells. They were usually perforated and contained smelling salts or tiny pieces of cloth soaked in something aromatic. The designer of this particular piece hollowed out the claw and fitted it with a hinged gold screen in order to vent the fragrance inside. There is an equally ornate lid that hides the screen, should the wearer want to keep the pendant’s function a secret. Insane, right?
Since I frequently find myself in the presence of unladylike smells and I love colonialism, I’m smitten like a tiger kitten.
I also just wanted to say that I LOVE the Erica Weiner store (and the site). This badass tiger’s claw is indicative of the crazy-fabulous vintage stuff they get, but they also have totally affordable pieces (I wear this feather bracelet pretty much every day)- the new storefront is in SoHo… and the best part? It’s run by ladies. Hear them roar!
Coco Chanel tells us that we must remove one bauble before leaving the house in danger of perhaps becoming tacky, or worse, vulgar. Mlle. Coco, we beseech: what if we aren’t leaving the house, per se, but rather have left home for adventure and are now streaming up from the hot spring, leaving the safety of the outcrop for the plunge of the cliff, emerging from the tent, slouching towards sunset, or craning up towards the heavens? On the road, I think, you’re free to bedeck yourself in old Moroccan corals, jet black beads of lost traders, turquoises from Santa Fe, feathers of all shapes and sizes, gilded ropes, chains, abalone strands, and shining winking bangles that ring like bells when you walk into your destiny. I think Coco would be down.
But seriously, folks, the necklace is a pretty good price! And it would be so perfect with my heretofore nonexistant dream outfit! Should I buy it and have it express shipped where I’m going to meet me there? I think probably.
Hermès has bedecked Ingres’ Odalisque with their divine bangles and the thing is, she looks great. I especially love the one up above her elbow.Add in the peacock feathers and the studied/effortless turban and: she’s ready for Coachella (behind the curtain is a floral onesie, we swear).
Here’s the original:
Is the Hermès accesorized version almost better?? Is that sacrilege/sacrilart? Here are a few more nudes in the series (it’s impossible to find anything on Hermès site, but there are more there too), all in all, pretty awesome.
ps. If you missed it, check out the Hermès DIY Kelly bag though, in all truth, I probably know more people who own an actual Kelly bag than have a printer (ie: one). Now we just need to get the DIY Birkin templates to the guys at MakerBot and we are in business!
I went home to Virginia last weekend for a dear friend’s wedding and to deliver my mother some Ramps and Sunchokes from the Union Square farmers market (I’ve been obsessed with this pairing for the past three weeks and can’t believe that there are still ramps available- I read this my first spring living in New York and have made the yearly appearance of ramps at the market a New-York-specific-ritual for myself… but I digress).
I was getting ready to go to this wedding with my mama in what, now that I try to put it into words for the first time, is not just a bathroom but a full on dressing room with a chaise lounge (I have not realized the import of this until this second- I have always just called it “Mama’s bathroom”… well it does have a tub). Getting ready and being in here is always awesome, since I was little snooping around in her stuff has always been the best.thing.ever- the only difference is that now, if I am very nice, she will actually let me wear some of her jewelry.
So, my father comes in and we’re just lounging around looking at old photographs and talking about hair-stuff and he hands me a tiny parcel with this inside:
Immediately the stories come out- first thing you need to know: we are from Williamsburg, Virginia, as in Colonial Williamsburg. So, when my father was a small boy he and his two brothers went down to the CW silversmith and picked out this brooch for my grandmother for Mother’s Day. My grandmother is an amazing lady, a horticulturist and philanthropist, a mover and a shaker, and the grandest possessor of hats, scarves, and jewels I have ever had the good fortune to meet. She, at some point, loses this brooch and secretly goes and replaces it without telling her sons. Then FIFTEEN years later she finds it again out in the garden by the woodpile (because, of course, she’s the kind of lady to wear fancy jewelry out by the woodpile). By this time, my parents are married and now Gramma has two brooches- so she gives the replacement pin to my mother. By this time in the conversation, my mother has pulled hers out. Apparently, they don’t make them anymore, but Daddy has found one somewhere (perhaps out by the woodpile) and thinks that since Gramma and Mama both have them, Nan should too. How divinely amazing!!
As you can see, I filled my tiny vase-pin with water, went right out and cut a peony from the garden, and went along to the nuptials feeling fine, like a classic Virginia lady (albeit in an Abigail Lorick dress), and most importantly- very loved.
Here are some modern options (if you don’t have a southern woodpile that keeps birthing brooches on the world):