Texts from Last Night

I was sitting at my desk when I get the following text from a number that I didn't have stored in my phone....the rest is unedited for your entertainment:

boy wonder: "Hey would love to see u for my bday this friday if u r around"

Aries: "Hi...sorry who is this??"

boy wonder: "Messed up...We had an intimate evening on ur roof in front of cameras and that's what u say!? ;) "

(At this point I go back through my past texts to check the numbers of the other 2 rejects who text me out of the blue this month. When I realize it is not them, I confirmed who this mystery man was in my head, but decided to have a little fun)

Aries: "Still need another clue....."

boy wonder: "Wow...U have taken a lot of guys up to ur roof?"

(This made me do a quick count...and I ended at 5 guys. Don't hate the player, hate the game :-) )

Aries: "A lady doesn't kiss and tell..."

***
I was keeping Scorpio updated with the following text
Aries: "I am fucking with him right now, by still acting like i don't know who he is. Its making me look like a slut, but he is all concerned now that he was not the only guy i took to the roof...hahah! They are so easy to bring down sometimes! His ego needs to be deflated!"
***

boy wonder: "haha"

boy wonder: "so do you remember me??!"

boy wonder: "We had a pretty hot and heavy session on ur roof after avenue- I have blonde and blue eyes"

boy wonder: "6'3 be hard to miss me"

***
back to texting Scorpio

Aries: "Omg, he just physically described himself and all of the places we went that night, trying to make me remember! Hahaha...this is too much fun! What's a good response that sounds cool, but puts him in his place..as last time i saw him he was a total dick"
***

Aries: "I think i know now...long time..."

That was the end of the conversation.

To recap, I met boy wonder in Avenue twice. The first time I was totally turned off by him because he was grinding with Kelly Bensimon (The NY Desperate Housewife). He pulled me over to his table and put his tie around my neck, like he marked me as his mate. I refused to go anywhere with him. Our second meeting in Avenue was different. He came over to me while I was sitting in the booth surrounded by my friends. He extended his hand and said "My name is boy wonder, I have met you before". From that moment on our bodies could not be separated. We both took PDA to a new level, which carried over into the streets, cab, elevator, and rooftop! He was a gorgeous, tall, masculine, sweet, pure bred Montauk yacht club yuppie. I thought I had finally met a man I was excited about, but you probably all know my luck by now! The next time I ran into him he basically pretended we had never met, then made it so awkward I just walked away. Four months later he texts me to come to his birthday party like I am his best friend??

*Aries*

Single Malt

Riddle me this... who goes to a chic Tribeca banker bar, orders up a Laphroaig neat, and ends up getting picked up by a tea-drinking Muslim?

I do.


In his defense, he was pretty hot. But what's a foul-mouthed post-feminist workaholic woman supposed to do with a practicing Muslim who has never even tasted alcohol... much less the simple beauty that is an Islay scotch?


The answer: Screw.


Obviously, I passed. He has to at least pretend he's interested in my personality. And he sure as shit better know his scotch.

*scorpio*

Chemistry & Athleticism

I’ve managed the impossible in New York… I’ve stumbled upon a relationship that is exactly what I want.

He and I met one snowy evening in February at SL. He plucked me off the couch I was dancing on, and soon we were making out on the dance floor. He was an Australian M&A guy, who worked punishing hours. I remember him saying that night, “You’d be cool with dating a guy who works a lot and can’t see you that often?” I said something to the effect of, “I have my own things going on and that sounds perfect”.

At the time, that was kind of a lie. I had just left a relationship and was feeling frenetic – wanting to latch on to anyone to stop the regret from surfacing. We kissed goodbye and I joined my friends at a late-night diner before the group of us headed off to ski for the weekend. I tried not to think about him… and soon enough, I wasn’t.

A month or so passed. He was back in Australia, and we began a very casual long-distance correspondence. By this point, I was determined to never be hurt again, and willed myself to be cold and unattainable. I didn’t believe a word he said. When he told me he was moving to New York and would be there in June, I purposefully forgot. When he arrived in late June and called me as soon as he was settled, I was shocked.

I had him meet me at a gallery opening in Chelsea. I was wearing a low-cut Prada dress and feeling very confident. He handled himself well during the opening, even charming the curator who I was there to meet. Afterwards, he came to my apartment. I was to change before dinner. We ended up passionately making out in my kitchen for an hour instead.

The next time I saw him, we did make it to dinner. And then, once again, we were back in my kitchen. Before the door had even closed he had scooped me up on the counter and wrapped my legs around him. We began the most intense and passionate make-out session, like something out of a movie. Clothing was flying everywhere; we were knocking into walls as we made our way into my bedroom.

Once in bed, I hesitated. I wasn't used to sleeping with anyone this fast, but the chemistry was so intense. Still, I had just suffered a fadeout not weeks before. I hovered above him, both of us naked, weighing the angel & devil on my shoulders. It must have taken me a half-hour of hesitation, and he was as patient as any human could be when on the brink of excitement. Finally, I asked him if I could trust him. He looked me in the eyes, and seemed shocked. “Of course you can trust me,” he said. “I won’t hurt you.”

At that moment, I decided… even if this ends badly at least I will have enjoyed the moment. And so, in a move so uncharacteristic of me, we did. It was freeing to have sex for sex's sake and not worry about morality or guilt or being a good girl.

And it was sooo worth it. He is extremely well-endowed and very athletic. We tore up the bedroom for about three hours, finally collapsing next to each other, sweaty and gasping for air. Then we started laughing. We spent the next hour lying next to each other and talking, suffused with euphoria.

As the weeks went on we started going out less, and staying in more. For a moment there, I entertained the possibility of a relationship. We’d talk on the phone a few times a week and see each other about once a week. He was kind funny, brilliant and sexy,and he didn’t play games. Hell, he was probably the first guy in a while who actually called instead of sending the famously non-committal text message.

But then, a funny thing happened. My life did get incredibly busy. I decided to take a class at NYU. I interviewed and switched jobs. I had several friends come into town to visit me. I spent time at my family’s summer place. I took up Pilates. I started studying for the GRE. And I was really happy. I started to enjoy my time alone and relished sleeping in my big bed, all spread out like a skydiver. I still saw him about once a week, but I didn’t think about him when he wasn’t in front of me. It was incredibly liberating. I wasn’t mired in feelings, weighted with worry. I took him for what he was and I didn’t want anything more.

Last Thursday night, after our weekly ritual of Jersey Shore and grilled chicken breast and mindblowing sex, we lay entwined in bed. Relaxed and happy, I mentioned how much I enjoyed our casual relationship.

Silence.

Then, “What do you mean, casual?”

“Well, you know” I stuttered, my face turning red, “I only see you about once a week.”

“I know. I work crazy hours and spend a lot of time on the golf course. But, even in my serious relationships, I’ve never seen the girl more than once a week.”

Now it was my turn to be silent. I didn’t know what to say. Once a week wasn’t nearly enough for me to be in a committed relationship… and besides, I didn’t want to be! I felt a little trapped, and a little worried that this would somehow change what I deemed to be the perfect non-relationship.

So I did what any woman would do when backed against a wall… I wrapped my legs around him and initiated another round.

In the morning, I walked the few blocks from his apartment to my office, replaying the events of the night. I got flashes of our hot, hot sex… tempered by his shock at the word casual.

By the time I reached my office, I realized the chimera of no-strings sex had vanished forever.

It’s certainly not how I imagined it ending, but I did accomplish what I set out to do: I lived in the moment.

*scorpio*

Shoe Shame

I was just trying to describe these Louboutins to my friends over a Brazilian brunch. As you can see words could never do these justice!!! I mean they change color in the light with every step you take, putting most other shoes to shame.

*Aries*

Street RAGE

There is one thing all New Yorkers can relate to- Street Rage. It is our version of road rage, only there are not thousands of pounds of steel separating us. Every movie and TV show seems to edit or glamorize this side of New York. Carrie Bradshaw seems to glide down empty streets or walk in happy unison with the paid extras walking around her. Scorpio and I live in the unedited version of New York, which in reality isn't always so fabulous.

This relates back to a previous post where we described our look, complete with bitch face, i-pod, and massive sunglasses.

This epsiode started with a faceoff. I was making my way through the main subway hub in Times Square, which in morning rush hour looks like someone just dumped a bag of marbles on a slick surface and watched them collide in chaos. There are so many people moving in every direction, I often wonder how I actually make it out of the station at all! I happened to turn a corner at the exact same time as this poor excuse for a man. Instead of colliding, we both just stopped. Now, normally the man, even woman would move out of the way and continue on. This man just stood there with a glare like I have never seen. He was challenging me, so I stood there staring him down through my dark Raybans. Then, I stepped back and in a grand gesture, motioned for him to walk in front of me. In my head, I was saying "after you your fucking highness". He just stood there glaring at me! So I stood even taller and glared right back until I yelled "really!?" and walked away.

At 5:30pm, I was summoned back to the office after having a biopsy at the Dermo, so already not in a fabulous mood, when I had to get on the 6 train. This dreaded train is always jammed full of smelly commuters and sure enough it was no different. I was racing against the clock to make it to the most amazing ass toning class at the gym before hitting the town with some of my favorite fashionistas. It is really annoying that I have only made it to this miraculous fat melting class twice! (I mean it starts at 7pm and I can still not get out of the office in time.)

I raced out of Grand Central and people started to part like the Red Sea, so my bitch face must have been working. In my eyes, nobody was safe...kids...pregos....elderly. I was in a warped speed strut, so if you stepped in the way I wasn't slowing down. I was weaving around thousands of people and somehow this obnoxious frat boy, who was loudly discussing his evening plans right in my ear, always ended up behind me. No matter how fast I fled from him, he was there chatting away at each crosswalk. I finally get into the office at 5:45pm and made the completely unnecessary phone calls until 6:30pm. At this point, I could still make my class. I decided to take the F train, as the 1 train is worse than the 6 train. I made my way underground and jumped on the express train only to hear that all express trains are not moving due to a breakdown at West 4th. So I pushed my way to the other side of the platform for the local as the mob of commuters continued to swell. I wait....tick tock....tick tock....tick tock. Fuck it! I literally ran up the stairs and walked into every New Yorkers worst nightmare, Times Square. You just know that your patience will be challenged by naive tourists who stop suddenly without warning or walk as a family chain across the entire sidewalk.

I ran down more stairs to the 1 train. Now it was 6:45pm and I could still just make the class. As I caught my breathe, I noticed that there are a lot of people, in my way, and no trains. A message crackled on the intercom and stated that all 1 trains are delayed due to a breakdown on 50th street. Come on!! I moved to the express train platform among the masses. I was surrounded by extra large business men who boxed me out when the 2 train finally arrived. I was just starting to calm down when the train stops and a tourist literally bear hugs me from behind because in his ignorance he didn't know how to hold on. I gave him the look and didn't correct their confusion when they got off at the next stop. Another mob of people got on and this guy put his entire arm in my face as he tried to hold the rail from behind me. I was annoyed, but didn't really mind until he released his grip and elbowed me right in the soft tissue between your neck and shoulder. I looked at him expecting an apology and he just looked at me and looked away. I wanted to scream "Hello!! Yes, you did just elbow me motherfucker!" Then I found myself squeezed between two gabbing women and a man that smelled like a supersized McDonalds fries. Gross! I switched to Bob Marley, my go to rescue from street rage, and stared off into a bad subway advertisement. I tried to block out the loud chatting, the foul odors, and the woman who kept moving her hand to touch mine on the rail. (If you do not live in New York, you have no idea how annoying this is! It is just as annoying as the person in front of you who keeps slowly walking sideways in whichever direction you try to weave around them.) Again, I reached a state of calm as I ironically listened to "Rat Race" on my ipod, when this group of three thugs forced themselves off the subway with their body weight. In this process, I was of course shoved into the rail as I cursed the mothers of northern men who seem to have forgotten to teach their sons basic manners.

As I finally walked back above ground I realized it was 7pm. My class just started and I was still blocks away from my apartment. I gave up hope and decided to decompress with candy corn, red wine, and an episode of Rachel Zoe. I later released the rest of the rage by laughing hysterically with friends and drinking every type of alcohol for the next 5 hours.

*Aries*

Poetry in Motion

My heart just skipped a beat after watching the Burberry Prorsum Spring 2011 show!

The best part is you can order the delicious trenchcoats and cropped jackets directly after watching them glide down Christopher Bailey's runway!

Watch: http://live.burberry.com/presentations/burberry-prorsum-womenswear-spring-summer-2011-show-1

Shop: http://us.burberry.com/shop/index.jsp?categoryId=8360536

*Aries*

Label Lust

As do most things, it started with a pair of shoes...

Alexander Wang

Loosen up those laces with a sequin skirt and drapey graphic jacket for nighttime...

Kova

Haute Hippie
Or rock a feathered skirt (anchored with a topcoat) for smart cocktails...or, if you're like me, to the office!

Preen

Alice & Olivia

A preppy lace-up is dying for an updated schoolgirl look: just add fur to keep that schoolboy blazer fresh & add a major pop of color to the standard-issue skirt.

Elizabeth & James

Jenni Kayne
Since sometimes a lady has to look like a lady, cool mint & dove grey will get you there without sacrificing taste.

Madison Marcus

Lela Rose



all images by shopbop


*scorpio*

Lovely Bones

"I love this" a man says to my friend in SL a few weeks ago. He reaches out and touches her jutting collarbone.

It's a line all New York women know. Despite what the magazines will have you believe ('perfect at any size' or 'he loves your curves'), the Manhattan man likes his woman to look like -if not, be- a model. Upon moving here, he's been subconsciously re-educated regarding female beauty. After all, models are everywhere in this town. They're glamorous, and skinny as hell.

Working in the fashion industry, it's inevitable that I have model friends. I lived with a model friend of mine for about a year, and never saw her eat more than a rice cake or sugar-free popsicle. She honestly never had a full meal. Another of my friends just recently scored an editorial in British Vogue. She talks wistfully about what it will be like to no longer be hungry. She often says, "I'm going to move back to Paris and have babies and get fat!" She's on caffeine pills most of the time.

Being skinny in New York is a status symbol. It means you're rich enough to work hard on your body and strong enough to withstand the siren song of carbohydrates. There’s a superiority that comes with rocking leather leggings and being a foot taller than everyone else, and men have become big believers. It’s almost as if, the thinner the woman on his arm, the more powerful he is.

It’s obvious the beauty bar has been raised. I was chatting to a guy last week who has a crush on my friend. I said, “Oh yeah, she’s super gorgeous!” He replied, “Well, I wouldn’t call her gorgeous… but she’s definitely cute.” Ouch. Saturday night, I was sitting with another male friend of mine at Lavo, and we were checking out the crowd. Every woman he selected was almost otherworldly in her beauty and thinness. It’s almost as if, if you don’t have perfectly chiseled cheekbones and a visible six pack, you’re un-dateable.

It’s a phenomenon that women are not comfortable acknowledging. After all, these days ‘size acceptance’ is a common phrase, referring to our more zaftig sisters. The magazines and women’s literature will have you believe that he loves your curves and doesn’t even know what cellulite is. The truth of the Manhattan man is harder to swallow. He knew what cellulite was in college… and he’s developed very clear ideas about what constitutes femininity in the years since moving here. He likes the space between a woman’s thighs. He prefers a six pack to hips. He takes yoga to watch the ‘yoga butts’. And breasts? They confound the Manhattan man.

Our modelized island creates a specific breed of body dysmorphia – especially when compared to high school friends, settled in suburbia. I was just going through Facebook with an old friend of mine a few weeks ago, and even the thinnest girls in high school had put on at least a good 30 lbs (and I’m from a very thin state). Then I realized, I’ve lost weight since high school. I am close to the thinnest I’ve ever been as an adult – but it still doesn’t feel like enough. I am perpetually chasing 'those last 5 pounds’.

As long as I live in Manhattan and work in fashion, I will believe that perfection is obtainable.

After all, it's sitting just one table over.

*scorpio*

Fall Inspiration

It's September in NYC. A wonderful time to venture into your favorite stores to load up on key pieces for the Fall season. I love the trends this season and to make sure I get the look I want, I create mini inspiration boards in my notebook. Here are a few clips of my favs:

I start with an image that captures the feeling I want to portray.....Isabel Marant read my mind!




Then I track down the key pieces that I will either buy or style with a similar look.....


Michael Kors matte chocolate python and distressed leather handbags are a MUST. I introduced my newly purchased python friend to the world during my exit from Lincoln Center. The "street style" photographers stalked it like paparazzi.







I am determined to find a way to justify treating myself to this Hermes cuff. Santa, if you are listening....the one with brown diamonds would be a lovely stocking stuffer!



OPI "Glitzerland". I will rock this 24 carot color all year long.

Customize Keds at Zazzle.com




Meredith Kahn of Made Her Think has been my favorite local jewelry designer for years....


My ultimate wish list for any season ;)


I'm not one for male underwear ads, but this season's Dolce & Gabbana stallion is just that.... (We wouldn't be Knockout Blondes if we didn't lust for a beautiful male every now and then)

Voilà!

*Aries*

The Wandering Eye

I was recently digging for photos of my new Dolce & Gabanna boy when I stumbled upon this link:

http://www.gq.com/style/street-style/201009/gordon-von-steiner-new-york-fashion-week-wandering-eye-spring-2011#slide=1

I mean, it's no wonder men who move to New York never want to commit. It is appropriately titled "The Wandering Eye". Men now get a regular slideshow of unrealistic options. Thanks GQ

*women of New York*

Fashion Week Is Over

This week was nothing short of insane! The Spring '11 shows have only increased my drive to be lounging on a mega yacht in the South of France next year. Pajama chic bodes well on the high seas. The good news is these looks will be just as fabulous on the shores of Montauk, but a girl can dream. Here is a rundown of my day at Lincoln Center:



I can't say I could ever really come up with an occasion to wear a mini dress made of bubble gum pink feathers......not my taste.









Michael's walk down the runway is always a moment of bliss



Backstage madness:





Until February fashion lovers....

*Aries*

Future Perfect

This is the type of woman I pretend to be in my head.

Walk as if you're wearing an invisible neoprene bodysuit with silver & copper inserts, I always say.

*scorpio*

Fashion Origami

This spring is all about the new Minimalism. Everyone was showing variations on the theme: expert draping, neutral palettes, laser-cut leather. Philip Lim took it one step further, creating backless, sideless pieces that fit together like puzzle pieces. Absolutely gorgeous... on the flat-chested girl, and reason #16 why I wish I didn't have breasts. Except for a brief effort by Prada last spring, breasts have never been high fashion.

Men never understand this- but then again, I don't dress for men.

(Men never understand that, either!)

*scorpio*