Monday: black Prada rosebud slingbacks

The first time I saw my apartment, it was in the very early stages of renovation. The kitchen had been gutted, so the old oven was sitting amidst the rubble in the living room, and I could still see the old orange paint on the inside of the front door, beneath the primer that had been half-heartedly applied. The broker assured me that everything was going to be top-notch once the new appliances and cabinets and paint were in place. And despite how things looked at that moment, I could imagine it. For one thing, no amount of rubble could disguise the size of the kitchen, which was probably twice as big as anything else I’d seen in Manhattan. Now if only they could make that half-bath in the kitchen into a closet…

I signed on the dotted line on the spot, and everything did turn out great (other than that tiny half-bath). But I have a little more trouble imagining great things when it comes to trying on clothing samples. I absolutely love made-to-measure clothing; anyone who’s read this blog knows about my obsession with Lainey Keogh. (And I’m expecting the embroidered cardigan I ordered at the December trunk show any day now!) It’s not quite the Paris couture experience, but hey, I’m also not out $20,000. (Well, not for just one item, anyway!)

So anyway, I was recently introduced to a designer who has a made-to-order line, with new styles and fabrics for each new season. I went to her place to have a look at the collection, which was lovely, but I soon realized the customized aspect of this type of shopping was the best part and the worst part of it. There were very few samples that came close to fitting me, so it took a bit of pinning here and there by the assistant and a lot of squinting by me to approximate how the style might look on me. A lot of the samples were just a lost cause — I mean, how can you tell if a pair of pants several sizes too big would look good on you in the correct size? It’s not completely a failure of imagination on my part (and god knows I will be ordering a few pieces!) but I had to laugh when I was trying to eyeball how a dress might look with higher heels and I was offered a pair of Manolos three sizes too big. Just smudge some lipstick all over my mouth and pile on the blue eyeshadow and I’m right back in my mom’s closet playing dress-up!

The moral of the story is that if there should ever come a day when I can finally afford to have a couture outfit made, I also will have had to find a way to grow a few inches taller! Hopefully, the likelihood of the former is not as low as the likelihood of the latter…

Friday: brown Gucci guccissima boots

I haven’t worn green for St. Patrick’s Day in years — because I thought it was silly or because I wanted to get pinched, I dunno — but I might just be wearing it every other day of the year. I’ve been pretty near obsessed with the color for a while now. For one thing, Lainey Keogh has amazing greens in her palette (she’s Irish after all!) so I’ve been adding to my collection pieces in every shade from lime to avocado to seafoam.

But it’s getting a little ridiculous. Last week I just picked up some crazy expensive watermelon tourmaline slices (as the name suggests, they look like slices of watermelon, pink in the middle and green on the outside) to make into a necklace with some tiny green garnets. I’m planning to wear it night and day, less because I won’t ever be overdressed and more because I need to justify spending so much money on those beads!

Even more tellingly, when I went to a trunk show the other day for a designer who does truly luxurious made-to-measure clothes, it seems like all I wanted to try on were in the green portion of the rack: the pistachio silk-wool blend evening coat, the silk jungle print dress, the clover and cream floral print halter dress, the olive beaded jacket… It didn’t matter if only some of the greens looked good on my complexion. I need them all like I used to need brand-new, virgin Crayola crayons every school year — even though time and time again there would be crayons that remained untouched at the end of the year (and still you needed to get new ones in the fall, preferably the 128 box with the pencil sharpener in the back). I don’t care, I’m planning to order both dresses and the coat to wear to the two weddings I have to go to this summer.

So guess what that means? Next stop: green shoes, baby!

Wednesday: brown Bottega Veneta slingbacks

Time for another public service announcement (of sorts): If you’re in the New York area, drop by the shoe department in the SoHo Bloomingdales tomorrow between 6 and 8 for a reading of Some Like It Haute. There will be drinks and hors d’oeuvres and — obviously — lots of shoes. And if any of them strike your fancy, you can take them home along with a free copy of the book!

* * * * *

It’s that time of year — when spring seems right around the corner in New York, but it’s not quite there (there is, after all, a chance of snow on St. Patrick’s Day). So as irresistible as the sundresses and skirts and open-toe sandals are, they still feel just a little premature. But then there are the Saks gift card promotions (tomorrow) and the Barney’s double points weeks (going on as I type) and the free shipping (not to mention no sales tax, to New York anyway) at eluxury.com (through the 20th) that were clearly devised to make us feel compelled to start our spring shopping. So who am I to resist? I’m dutifully making my early shopping list:

There’s my Christian Louboutin espadrilles, which I know, I know — you’re probably sick of them by now and at this very moment you’re muttering, “Oh get over it already.” And despite all that, all I can say is that according to saks.com they will be delivered “no later than” — wait for it — May 30! (That’s for the black ones. Barneys has a few pairs left, but in light colors I’m just not psychologically prepared to wear.)

This M Missoni bateau sweater is pretty great. For those of us not willing to bare our upper arms just yet.

I love love love this Marc Jacobs wrap skirt but I really preferred the silver brocade version that was on the runway.

I’ve decided that given how long it takes me to pick an outfit in the morning, this spring/summer I’m going to be all about easy one-piece dressing, so this Diane von Furstenberg eyelet wrap dress is a good start. It comes in navy, which is what I’ll likely get, because I’ve got my eye on another white dress…

… this Catherine Malandrino dotted sundress, which is more like ivory but still. You know how I am about light colors.

(Which means this Derek Lam shirtdress, though it has some really fabulous details, is probably out of the question. No more than one white dress this season!)

What’s with this summer? Crisp whites, eyelet and now, seersucker (sort of): I’m obsessed with Vera Wang right now, and no I don’t mean bridalwear. This jacket is pretty sweet, as in sugar-and-spice-and-everything-nice sweet.

Then there’s this Nanette Lepore Navajo blanket chevron skirt that’s really cool (or maybe groovy) in a ’70s kind of way. I kind of dig it. It appeals to my Missoni-loving, louder-than-a-757 side. Which, not surprisingly, often drowns out my more modest side!

Monday: green ponyskin Manolo heels

You know how obsessed I was about being the first on my block to get my hands on the Louis Vuitton Onatah pochette? Well, believe it or not, I still haven’t carried it outside yet!

I’ve always been this way. When I was in high school, my friends and I would never wear our concert t-shirts the day after the show, because that just wasn’t cool. I can’t remember if it was because it made you seem like you were showing off, or if it was because everyone else was doing it and you didn’t want to be a follower.

But more to the point, when I buy something nice, I’m just too afraid that something bad will happen to it — that it will rain and it’ll get dirty or scratched or something. (I’ve thought about carrying around some sort of plastic covering inside my handbags just in case, but the thought that I might actually have to use it makes me think of the plastic-covered furniture in Married to the Mob. Cringe!) So I tend to wear it in the safety of my own home and nowhere else. (At least anyone peeping through my living room window will think that I lead a rather fabulous life.) I really need to break this habit because if you think about it, every day I’m not using this big-ticket item means I’m not amortizing the cost and making myself feel less guilty.

I’ve been checking the weather forecast religiously and today seems like it’ll be a washout. (In truth, anything about a 15% chance of rain is too much for me to risk.) So there goes another week of gathering dust . . .

But wait — here’s a thought! Some good may come out of this. If I don’t carry my spring bag now, when it’s actually spring (supposedly in eight days, but let’s face it, it’s not for another month) I won’t already be bored of it! See, every cloud does have a silver lining.

Friday: black Prada floral pumps

I don’t know why I’ve been so spaced out recently but it’s obvious that I’m not on my game shopping-wise. First off, I totally missed the Beauty Event at Neiman’s. I went today and realized that the promotion had ended, and instead of ordering online like I should have earlier this week, I lazily put it off till I could go to the store. Well, duh! Now, it wasn’t that great of a promotion; the bag wasn’t particularly cute and the samples, I’ve found, have gotten less and less interesting over the years. But I guess it’s the pack rat in me that always feels compelled to get the gift with purchase regardless of how useful it may or may not be. It’s free stuff; who can say no to that? Besides, I leave all the samples and $1 finds from the office beauty sale (another weakness — how can I stop when things cost a buck and there’s a 10-item limit? Of course you have to buy 10. I just remind myself it’s all for charity.) in a big shopping bag (or two) in my foyer so all visitors to my apartment can get a parting gift. It’s like the treasure chest at the dentist’s office, only the stuff doesn’t rot your teeth; it does, however, also make you have to return.

On this same trip to the mall (really, the only game in town in Dallas is shopping) I was at the new Nordstrom at NorthPark, which I’m pleased to report is probably one of their nicest stores, chock full of designer goodies. One such goodie was the new Louboutin espadrille that my sister has and I desperately want. The store had one last pair — and it was in my size. And in black to boot. It was fate! I tried them on, realized they were beyond cute, . . . then hemmed and hawed and decided that the left shoe didn’t fit quite right. It was just a little tight.

Now, any other time I would have thrown caution to the wind and told myself, “What’s a little foot pain anyway?” Had I not learned the phrase, “Tais toi et soit belle” at my mother’s knee? (Literally translated from the French, that means “Shut up and be beautiful.”) Of course the minute I left the store I felt wracked with non-buyer’s remorse. What if the salesman was right, if no other store in town was carrying this style? (Indeed Neiman’s didn’t have it, and they are listed as “pre-order” on saks.com. That could mean waiting till June for all I know!) What if I would never find it again? What if, were I to phone him up first thing this morning once the store opened, he told me that that last pair that I had had in my grasp was now gone, in the hands (or rather, on the feet) of another more decisive than I?

Ack! Open! Open! Open! Open! Open! Open…