Monday: camel Manolo slingbacks

Now that winter is officially here, I’m feeling the itch to knit again. Yes, I know, I hardly need any more sweaters, but there’s something about looking at the website for Artfibers, a cool yarn store in San Francisco, that makes me want to start another project.

Of course, one look at my yarn stash would tell you that I’m fine at starting projects — just not so good at finishing them. (Once, I was quite prolific; I’m proudest of this butter-yellow alpaca shawl-collared cardigan I made like four years ago. I actually even wore it a few times — in public too!) Actually, truth be told, I’m best at buying yarn for projects and not starting them at all. I think I just like to look at those balls and cones of yarn. Pretty, and so full of potential! I suppose I could say that about all the yarn — and beads and jewelry supplies — I have lying around the house. So many crafts, so little time! Well, if I start now, maybe I could even make all my Christmas presents for next year…

Friday: burgundy tweed Prada mules

Years ago — maybe ten years ago — I wrote a story about Japanese street fashion. I remember thinking that I just couldn’t understand why anyone would want to look so, well, odd, with their jumbled, mix-and-not-match clothes and accessories.

Well, I confess that a decade later, Gwen Stefani made me have a change of heart. Her Harajuku obsession has sort of grown on me — not that I would ever wear anything from her Harajuku Lovers line in public, but I have to say I appreciate the kitschy cuteness. (Kitschy kawaii, anyone?)

So I was looking on the Harajuku Lovers site today and saw this onesie. And I immediately thought, Oh my god, I need to have a baby. Er, not really. But I did instantly think about which one of my new-mom friends would appreciate that little number, and the matching hat too. Yes, I know, my friends might just tell me that their children are not dolls for me to play with in such a fashion. Oh come on, am I really supposed to believe that?!

For me, though, wearing thermal-underwear type leggings with little bunnies or bananas on them may not quite be appropriate for, say, the office. On the other hand, no one ever has to know that I’m wearing these underneath my grownup clothes. . .

Wednesday: Prada crocodile heels

I braved the scary Christmas tree crowds the other day to go to the J Crew at Rockefeller Center to pick up some T shirts for my upcoming trip to Asia (nothing like heading close to the equator to force yourself to get a head start on a summer wardrobe). Of course I wasn’t that brave, so I grabbed what I could and hauled ass out of there. Had I been followed by CCTV, whoever was watching might have mistaken me for a WUI (walking under the influence) case, considering how I was weaving in and out of foot traffic. It’s just a skill you develop when you live or work anywhere within a five-block radius of any New York City sightseeing stop during the holiday season — which is to say, anywhere in Manhattan.

So I was zipping (or rather, zigzagging) away from the tree when something in the window made me stop in my tracks. It was a cashmere sweater with a pug on it.

Now, taking a close second to my obsession with Lainey (umm… and my obsession with Prada… and Louboutin… and…) — anyhow, I have this grand obsession with pugs. It’s the whole ugly-cute thing. Can’t resist. Of course I could never have one because I’m never home and my (theoretical) pug would get lonely and sad and would feel compelled to act out by pooping in my shoes. It’s inevitable.

But back to the shop window: I stopped for a moment and gazed into the eyes of that pug and like Bush looking at Putin, I saw his soul. Just kidding. I couldn’t decide if buying that sweater would make me one of those, um, eccentric people who decide to decorate their homes and selves entirely inspired by their pets. Only I would be taking it to a whole other level since I don’t even have a pet! I decided to pass, because there’s kitsch, and then there’s kitsch. Granted, there are people who can get away with wearing J Crew’s critter clothes. But I think they are named Muffy and Chip.

Monday: brown Bottega Veneta slingbacks

Maybe it’s because I’ve never been chosen for a jury. Maybe it’s because I’m dying to be the first to know about the next big thing. Or maybe it’s just because I like to hear myself talk. In any case, I’ve long been obsessed with focus groups.

Now, some focus groups are pretty plum — one paid a few hundred dollars of mad money for a couple hours of chatting about skincare. But don’t think it’s all about the money. A while back I spent a lunch hour (or two) looking at print ads for a carbonated cranberry drink in exchange for maybe $50 and some stale sandwiches. Hell, I’ll even do an online research survey on household appliances when the rewards are accrued in some non-specific “currency” that can be used in a manner to be announced later.

On the surface I may seem like the ideal focus group member — I have disposable income that I’m all too happy to dispose of, I read all sorts of magazines and I watch far too much TV. What they don’t know is that I’m convinced advertising doesn’t work on me. All my life I could remember the jingle or the cute concept but I could never for the life of me tell you whether the commercial was for Coke or Pepsi, Crest or Colgate. I’m not overly brand loyal (all those Prada shoes and Lainey sweaters notwithstanding), but it’s not like a single commercial could sway me one way or the other. So I can talk passionately about why I’d never buy the cranberry drink based on an ad prominently displaying big ripe cranberries that actually turn out to be carbonation bubbles, but should any market researchers really be listening to me? If I may say so myself, my shopping patterns are uniquely particular. . . Now that’s a good thing, right?

Friday: chocolate suede Jimmy Choo boots

I mean well — truly I do. I have the best intentions every holiday season, and inevitably I run out of time and more to the point, out of inspiration. (And no, you don’t have to remind me that perhaps I’d have better luck if I didn’t shop for myself first.) In this home stretch of shopping, I’ve been spending some time flipping through catalogs and gift guides, and I’ve come up with a few cool items that I would love to find in my stocking… uh, I mean, that I will be giving away.

Sterling silver monkey straw from Tiffany’s: So kitschy-cute and so completely frivolous. Perfect stocking stuffer for a sister who has everything.

Louis Vuitton pencil: No wait, this is for the person who has everything.

Fashionista stationery from Mrs. John L. Strong: You’ll be sure to get a thank you note.

Cashmere travel blanket: Because really, who knows where those airplane blankets have been? For the consultant friends who live on the road.

Smythson fashion diary: Now why didn’t I think of this myself? Great for any fashionista or wannabe fashionista.

Cashmere socks: To keep daddy’s dogs warm.