A White Manhattan

Today is Wednesday and the glorious cushion of white that swirled and shimmered and covered this beautiful city has mostly turned to brown slush and black ice. But Monday was a lovely snow day for those of us lucky enough to be off from work and not relying on any mode of transportation to get from here to there, aside from one's own feet.

Josh and I walked from his place on the east side across to do some shopping (window and otherwise) on Madison and Fifth, then continued through the park and ended up at the shopping center at Columbus Circle. It was his birthday and we joked that the whole city was halted in his honor. We warmed up in the afternoon at the Brooklyn Diner with skim lattes and split pea soup. Yum!


Check out these shots from our Winter Wonderland adventure.
Photo credit: Joshua Gerson ;)

Snow fall on 12.26. as seen from Josh's window

Swirls of snow

Abandoned cabs were everywhere!

44th Street

A bench in Central Park

We found this cute guy in the park

Maniac running in shorts!

Peace

Columbus Circle in a blanket of white

My Boyfriend is Better Than Santa

I have to admit I am a very lucky girl. When it comes to clothes, I have pretty much every staple a NYC gal could want--little black dresses from Marc Jacobs, Catherine Malandrino, and Les Copains, a gray knee-length Prada skirt, a Louis bag, duds and accessories from Chloe, DVF, and Dior... the list goes on and on.

But Josh felt that something was missing. My stint at a prominent fashion magazine allowed me access to some of the greatest sample sales around, and thus my shoe collection is hardly lacking. I have Carrie's favorite Manolos--the silver peep-toe slingbacks with the rhinestone oval at the front. I own Dolce & Gabbana maryjanes in a pale shade of olive with a simple stiletto and ivory-hued piping. I was also lucky enough to add to my collection last spring's montrous Dior sandals whose heels are comprised of little Buddha-esque statues. And yet, my friends, this picture-perfect collection was missing the quintessential shoe. The red sole. The Christian Louboutin.

I won't share the words of the card with you because they were too sweet and I want to keep them just for me. But the gist was that, in order to be inducted into the status of a true New York fashionista, Josh felt I was missing one special thing. And damned if he was going to get me the "entry level" black pump. My boy knows me well, as you can see. He went beyond. They are the most beautiful shoes these feet have ever stepped into. They are nude silk with a black lace overlay. Somewhere in heaven, my grandma, "Gaga," whose own collection rivaled that of the movie stars of her day, is doing a little dance. I'm dancing right along with her. I am in shoe heaven this Christmas. Thanks to my man.

Dancing around the living room in the best Chrismy present ever

New Love: The Wind-Up

One of my dearest friends, Diana, turns 25 today. Happy birthday Princess Di! It's no surprise that being born this time of year can be kind of a bummer because friends and loved ones are scattered here and there, or racing to finish up work on a deadline, or broke from Christmas shopping... or all of the above. Josh suffers from the same problem--he's on the 27th--but more on that next week.

So I was thrilled to see that at Diana's birthday bash on Saturday night, so many of her pals made it. The high school girls were there, my bro and I who (sort of) fit the hometown category, college friends about  whom I'd heard countless stories but had never met in person, and the guests of honor were her brother--and his band.

The band doing their thing at Arlene's Grocery on Saturday Night

Now let me pause for a moment to say that I have a ton of appreciation and admiration for anyone who does something creative in this world. Clearly, as the writer of a blog that is only at its baby beginnings, I know there are a lot of good intentions swirling out there in the artistic world. However, in my humble opinion, usually when you hear someone refer to their "friend's brother's band from [insert Hometown, USA here]," chances are, they're talking about a few crooners who bang around in someone's dad's garage a couple times a week putting new, slightly off-key spins on classic jams or writing what ends up sounding like poorly done Guster. Not so with my friend's brother's band from Long Island.

I first got introduced to The Wind-Up last year when the band's album, "You Are a Beautiful Thing," went up for sale on their website. I had only ever heard a few tunes in the backseat of someone's car under the influence of at least a couple gin and tonics, so I had no idea if I'd like it or not. But when your friend calls you begging for you to spend ten bucks to make her day, you just do it, right? Within weeks the album was also available on iTunes. I was impressed!

The Wind-Up's tunes shift in a moment from the soft, emotional sharing of a rock star with a great voice singing to a lost love, to a full-on jam session that leaves you bopping around in your subway seat. My favorite off the album has always been "Eleanor," but the other night at Arlene's Grocery, I actually found myself fist-pumping (What???) to "They Promised You Life" and others. I shed a few tears at "Song for Haley," which is available from their demo on the website. Wow. I glanced around the room slowly and-- as if in a movie--saw so many others holding back tears at the honesty and intensity of this ballad. Lyrics include, "...being without you is just like dying." Every song by the band will resonate, yet the music is so basically catchy and fun, you don't have to think about it.

What makes The Wind-Up so great is their talent, plain and simple. Each member brings something to the table, and the music is all written by them, reflecting various memories and hopes and pouring out the deepest inner struggles and triumphs. This is some moving sh**. And Robert Jonas can sing! I strongly recommend you check out their website for all songs as well as concert itinerary, photos, bios, etc. And you should just go for it and buy "You Are a Beautiful Thing" on iTunes. You won't be sorry. I am so glad I finally made it to a Wind-Up concert, I just wish it had happened sooner. When you go, ladies, pack a tissue in your purse. Just in case they play that one song... or whichever one moves you to tears.
Check 'em out!

A Little Bit of Chrismy Sparkle

I already told you about the fabulous tree that Josh and I put up and decorated at his place. With our incredibly busy work schedules, we haven't been spending as much time nesting at the apartment as we did last year at this time, and I've found myself for a week now toiling away at my laptop (which sits atop a Victorian washstand), glancing around the room to find it completely void of Chrismy cheer. So depressing! What's a girl to do? Why, hightail it around the corner to Urban Outfitters of course, and grab herself some goods!

When they erected the Urban location right near my house, Mom called and very sternly told me she expected me to avoid it like the plague. I have an Urban Abuse Problem, I swear. I just love that the clothes and accessories are so accessible, there is something to fit every style, and the price point works for my (sad) budget. I promised Mom during that phone call that I would never enter the store unless accompanied by an adult. I promptly put down the phone, picked up my purse, and headed to Urban. Sorry Mom.

For now we will avoid discussing my Urban Abuse Problem as it pertains to clothing and accessories, because it just might happen that some of you cuties reading my blog are being gifted by Jensy from there this season! But I can tell you about all the cool Chrismy loot I discovered there the other night. So fab!

This is my sweet little tree, that sits in the corner of my living room on an end table. Isn't sort of wonderfully Charlie Brown-ish? But it shines! Love the color as it fits in with my decor. Also available in fuscia. The tree retails for a mere $14 and I nabbed a box of these tiny glass ball ornaments at Urban too, for $10. The best part? At the end of the season, just pack it up and store for next year. No need to spend twice. A dream for a tiny New York City apartment!

I know you must think I am a Diet Coke Addict--you'd probably be right. But can you stand these string lights from Urban too? They were on sale for 9.99. I had to.

To polish the whole thing off, I purchased a few of these great, glittery feathers in turquoise and silver at $3 a pop. My original thought was to bring them to Josh's to put on our tree, but they might be just a *tad* feminine. Anyway, I kind of want to keep them here. Am thinking of hanging them wherever they feel right. One in the bathroom, a couple by the window, and so on. What do you think?

Praying there will be canned food in his stocking...

The shining glory of my decorating spree this year though were the fabulous stockings I found us at the John Robshaw sample sale. Granted, even at the sale they were not exactly cheap (even though I told Josh that they were!), but aren't they great? I love that they are not too "holiday" and can go with any decor. You can't really tell in the photo, but those miniature circles are mirrors. So sparkly and fun! Sadly, the budget only allowed one for me and one for Josh, so Dolce is stuck with this paw print plush stocking from last year's TJ Maxx run.
Sorry, D!

Velvet Loves You

My very first extraordinary outfit was a custom-made black velvet mock-neck, long-sleeved bodysuit with a full, red, satin skirt layered in tulle beneath and bedazzled with red hanging sequins. It was 1990 and my mom crimped my entire head of light brown stick-straight hair and threw it into a side pony with a sparkling red scrunchee. She let me wear lipgloss too. It was Christmas. I was in Little Girl Heaven.

Of course that sparkling skirt was a must-have for the year, but I have to tell you, nothing made me feel as good as snuggling up in my velvet bodysuit. I felt like a rock star. I was never a fan of turtle necks, being the itchiest-skinned kid on the block. Even the softest wools and cashmeres were annoying and left me blotchy and red, but velvet never bothered me. Same deal twenty years later. Except that I can no longer get away with a crimped side pony tail and a tulle lined skirt. Sigh...

Velvet conjures the most delightful memories, doesn't it? There's the Velveteen Rabbit, those fabulous floppy bows from childhood, the figure skating costumes of the 80s... and today (!), and of course for me there was that great bodysuit. It's a smart fabric too, as it's warm yet incredibly luxe. Luckily for those of us who are too old to pull it off as seen above, there are so many chic, grown-up ways to don the fabulous fabric nowadays. Here are some spectacular examples that you can afford. The best part? Velvet looks good on everyone. Velvet loves you back.

BEST DRESS

This wintry Juicy Couture sheath hugs the body in all the right places and the long sleeves render it super-comfortable despite its party flair. Love the length. Style it as seen here with black Wolford Cotton Velvet (!) tights and a great black pump, or dress it down with a nubby legging and flat boots. Personally, I don't adore this necklace though. A great little staple like this does better with a flashy, dangling vintage earring and a crap-ton of bangles.

Bloomingdales.com, ON SALE for about $160



BEST BLAZER

The fastest path to chic... throw on a velvet blazer with just about anything and instantly look more put-together yet approachable. My current favorite is this absolute steal from the Gap. At a mere $98, the gorgeous jacket is cut to perfection and features a cute notched collar, single button closure and perfect side pockets. It's offered in sizes 0 to 20, so no one misses out. Pair with a crisp white shirt, skinny jeans and boots or a great dress and tights. Or a nice thick legging and a cute graphic tee. Or, you get the idea...

Gap.com, $98


BEST TOP

Beige silk top with Dolman-inspired sleeve and all-over black velvet floral. Obsession. This would be great with a black pencil skirt, tights, and a nice heeled boot, or black pants. It adds a subtle taste of spring to your winter wardrobe and floats gently away from the body for maximum comfort--and the ability to indulge in Chrismy cookies without having to suck in the tummy all night long.

Anthropologie.com, $118



BEST BOTTOMS

Oh, J. Brand, how I love thee...

When it comes to finding the perfect fit in a pant, J. Brand is your new best friend. Just trust me on this if you have not yet discovered the truth for yourself. I will admit, sometimes it bums me that I have to go up a size in their non-stretchy styles, but whatever. Are you dying over these pocketed velvet legging/pants? I am. They fit like a glove, the tush looks impeccable in them, and at $165, they are a doable staple that you will live in all winter long... and next winter, and the one after that. I would work these in wherever jeans go but since they fit snugly you could get away with a dress too. Rock them at night with a fabulous party shoe and a glittery top, or to the office with a contrasting blazer or a demure blouse and low black pump.

Bloomingdales.com, $165


BEST SHOE

These Alexander Wang come-hither penny loafers are the perfect marriage of fun and sophisticated. The penny loafer front is reminiscent of little girl days, yet the thick heel is powerful and sturdy, suggesting the wearer is no weak damsel. The stretch-velvet shaft dresses them up to nighttime status and is a fun way to work the great trend into footwear without looking too sweet.

Shopbop.com, ON SALE for about $520


CONCLUSION
The moral of the story is, you can wear velvet, no matter what your personal style. It's everywhere, it's affordable, and it is the epitome of cozy-chic. Happy shopping, my little velveteen rabbits!

Oh, Chrismy Tree

My day job has taken over! Agh! There is no excuse to abandon your projects, your fun and creative outlets... but I have done so for the past several days. I apologize, devoted readers! Two more days of work nightmarishness, and then Jensy gets a long-awaited, well-deserved break. In the meantime, last night Josh and I took a pause from all the pressure to do my favorite thing of the year. We bought and decorated our tree.

For those of you who know me personally and are wondering what a Jewish girl with a non-Christian Japanese boyfriend is doing buying a Christmas tree, sorry to disappoint, but I do nothing by the books. Growing up we always had Christmas trees and did the whole present thing, and rocked out to all the music, and I won't apologize for it. Josh is in, too. Such a relief!

My man carries the tree... <3 Sorry so blurry

My brothers and I started calling Christmas "Chrismy" in childhood. I feel like we stole it from the Muppet Special or some other strange Christmas-themed television program for kids. Whatever the reason, it stuck, and we love it. So there you have that.

Check out what $60 will do for you! Amazed.

Last year Josh picked up our tree at a Home Depot in Jersey, which was a pretty good choice since it was cheap and he had a car to transport it to the city. This year we had no such luck on the car, so we decided to go to a street vendor. We comparison shopped--the first guy seemed somewhat clueless and vaguely attitidunal. We walked up a couple of blocks to the guy outside the Food Emporium on 2nd and 51st. He seemed to know everything about Christmas trees--and even gave us the tip that we should put a crushed aspirin (NOT Tylenol or Advil) in room temp water for the tree to keep it alive and well through New Year's Day. He also negotiated a decent price on a great tree, and sent us home with a little piece of stump so we could figure out our tree's age, and a bunch of branches to use as decor in the apartment. Success!

Luckily Josh is stronger than I am; he toted the tree home over his shoulder like the hero that he is. And though he declined to indulge me with the Christmas tunes I requested, we had a blast decorating our cute tree. We nabbed this glittery star topper at Duane Reade last year and most of our basic ball ornaments were a steal at TJ Maxx last year as well. The Diet Coke ornament is my personal favorite--available on urbanoutfitters.com along with SO many other cute ones. And no New Yorker's tree would be complete without a Starbucks cup dangling somewhere. We have one already, but is it weird that I kind of want more?

As for the extra branches, I had fun arranging them in a gorgeous crystal vase and hanging a few ornaments from it. Makes for a sweet embellishment when you don't have the time or $$ to invest in a ton of Chrismy crap to put everywhere.

Sorry, all you staunch Jews out here, but I adore Chrismy and the warm and delicious feeling it gives me. So excited to post more words and photos of inspiration throughout my favorite season :)

xoxo Jensy is a happy girl today!

Obsession of the Moment: Levi's Jeans

I know what you're thinking. It could not get anymore obvious, or quintessentially American, than a pair of Levi's jeans. They look great on everyone, they have the whole history of denim clothing thing working for them, and of course, the price is right. But today we ladies have a lot more to celebrate from the classic brand.

Let me 'splain. For the longest time I've thought that my body woes were my own. I've always understand that other girls struggle with different parts and curves and bumps and bones just like I do. But I really thought my jeans problem was mine alone. I have relatively thin legs and a small waist, but I have such an ample tush that it literally appears to have been transplanted there from some other place. I'm not complaining. Really, I hear this is a good thing. But let me tell you, it's a literal pain in the a** finding jeans. The proper waist size won't pull up over my butt. Sizing up creates gaps in the legs or requires use of a belt. Finding the right pair can only ever happen if there is stretch involved, and even then, I'm looking at at least $200 a pop. Ladies and gentlemen, there is a reason I am known in my circle as the "dress girl." The reasoning goes far beyond mere love of all things girly.

Enter Levi's "Curve ID" system. I first found out about the new phenomenon as advertised on a billboard near Times Square. The genius sizing scale categorizes three types: Slight, Demi, and Bold. Waist and leg sizing remains true to the style--skinny, relaxed, and so on. But you can actually buy a pair of pants that is customized to your butt. It's amazing! I rejoiced. I ran to the Levi store in SoHo. I was helped by a lovely sales girl who took me around the store pointing out things I would love--and diagnosed me as a "Bold." No surprise there.

I nabbed a pair of the Cry Baby Skinny (only 69.50!) and went for it with a stonewashed "jegging"-- the Darted Legging jean (also $69.50). I couldn't help it--so, so cute. And with this whole understanding of the a** thing, it was the first time in nearly ten years that I have gone shopping for jeans without shedding a single tear. I even went down a size from my normal in the Cry Baby. I'm in love. You will be too!

M.A.C. AIDS Fund: Look Pretty for a Good Cause

Admittedly, this idea stemmed from a conversation with Mom. How often these things do! She mentioned on the phone that she had found a "To Die For" shade of M.A.C. lipstick that I had to own, a bold and gorgeous pink from the Viva Glam collection. I knew immediately she was talking about the Gaga shade, named after my favorite pop star today, Miss Gaga herself. I'd been meaning to try the color forever anyway, so I hightailed to the M.A.C. store and picked one up. I wasn't disappointed.

Maybe you are not ready to take the Pepto pink plunge with your lips this fall. I get that, I really do. But you've lucked out because there are other great new options for contributing to the M.A.C. AIDS fund. I honestly have grown fed up with cosmetics and fashion companies who do a quickie campaign for some cause or another and then throw 10% of proceeds at it, pocketing the rest.

Established in 1994, the fund donates every penny of sales towards affected men, women, and children worldwide. On their site, macaidsfund.org, you can find lots of fun stats on where your money is going. One lipstick, for example, equals two hours of childcare for an HIV positive women so she can go to her doctor's appointments, or eight individually tailored, nutritious meals, or one pair of school shoes for an affected child. The list goes on and on, and the stories are so inspiring.

So, if you're not ready to go Gaga, there's always the standard Viva Glam shades and this fall, in honor of M.A.C.'s new Tartan Tale collection (which you should also check out, and invest in, just 'cause it's all so cute) they are offering Sir Teddy, too. This little tartan guy makes a great gift for your favorite kid in support of AIDS and is part of the Kids Helping Kids outreach that M.A.C. AIDS fund is supporting. They even have these great HIV-positive-kid-designed note cards to offer as well.

Check out maccosmetics.com for full product lists, pricing, and to shop online. And yeah, pat yourself on the back for buying some cute garb and helping out really deserving people all over the world at the same time.

(No Longer) The Frumpiest Girl at Physique

A little over a month ago my friend and colleague Monique dragged me to my very first Physique 57 class. Over dinner earlier that week, a group of industry contacts and friends were noshing on petit filets paired with truffle fries or creamy parmesan polenta, green beans doused in butter, several glasses of wine, and the obligatory gourmet donuts. I don't want to name names, but this downtown hot spot is not exactly where you want to be when trying to downsize in the denim department. That said, the food was delicious. While we munched, we talked about all of the obvious items of interest from men to business, but we circled back several times to the obligatory topic--how fat we all are.

**Now, let me step back for a moment to confirm that indeed, not a single one of us actually "fat." Let me take one step further to say I don't really believe in that word anyway. I genuinely do look around and find such a plethora of attractive shapes in this city. In every city. I don't believe in size 0 or bust. In fact some of the sexiest women I've ever seen (or heard men talk about) are of the thicker, "more womanly" variety. But when I talk about it now--and rest assured, it might come up again in the future--my definition of "fat" as it applies to my own life is that I am up a size for me. That the frame I know and am comfortable with at my healthiest weight is currently distorted in the direction I'd rather it not be. **

Back to the point, rambler. It was a big, caloric dinner and we were all feeling guilty. Someone at the table brought up their favorite way to forgive themselves a dinner of this caliber--one more thing this eager New York chick had yet to discover--the inimitable Physique 57. This ballet-based workout includes a bar, a playground ball, a black cloth band, an hour, some awesome music, and a chic little creature clad in spandex who barks orders at you through a miked headset. In short, I was told, it was the place where Hell meets Heaven. And it burns a lot of calories. I was intrigued. I've been running with my boyfriend for several months now--which got me started on running solo--and I love it. But I needed a change. I needed to sweat to the point of tears. I was oddly excited.

Monique and I signed up for an open class at the Spring Street location for my first time. Admittedly, I was nervous going in, but relieved I wasn't going in alone. The class was hard. It leaves you sweating and panting and reaching for your water bottle, yet at the end the feeling of health and adrenaline surging throughout your body is enough to make you sign up online right away to go through the pain all over again as soon as your schedule (and wallet--class costs $35 a pop) will allow.

Cheer practice 2006, Pookie is far left &
I'm in the yellow shorts

I don't have enough wonderful things to say about this class that has changed my understanding of group, synchronized workouts forever. But there is one little thing that really bothered me that first day, and that continued to nag at me the next few times I went. Shape and size notwithstanding, every single chick in the studio is decked out in the cutest little workout outfits. A former cheerleader myself, I get the desire to look good while working up a sweat, but we always donned little pink pleated skorts or Victoria's Secret mini shorts with our fitted Midd t-shirts, throwing our boyfriends' oversized athletic gear on to walk from the dorm to the gym. I'm not gonna lie--there were hair bows involved as well. While the look worked at 19... and even at 22... it's over. Time to grow up and look like a woman in a class.

It was even easier when we dressed in uniform!

So I threw on my little Gap athletic sweats and a boring t-shirt I didn't care about and headed to the gym. As I looked around the room and saw the ladies around me geared up in Lululemon yoga pants that fit like a glove, little tanks with built-in bras, and perfect half-zip fleeces that actually fit, I felt like a total loser. But here is the worst part. No one told me ahead of time that Physique class is a socks-only experience. As in, no shoes or bare feet allowed in the studio. As in, within moments everyone in the room knew that I was wearing one faded pink Puma sock and one white Polo sock that had (yes, Lord, strike me down) a hole in it. Everyone around me was wearing cute little black ankle socks that literally had the words "Phsyique 57" inscribed in sweet white writing on the soles. I. Wanted. To. Die.

Now, I must admit, since I finally drank the Kool Aid and purchased a few Lululemon duds myself, I have realized that they are a lot more than attractive. In the store they explain all of this to you while leading you around and helping you select the proper gear based on your preferred exercise routine. Yesterday I picked up a great little tie dyed tank with a built-in bra and the Run Dash Tight pants in black that are great for class but will work wonders on runs as well. The technology involved helps you keep warm outdoors, cool indoors, prevents sweat from soaking you through, and maybe most importantly for me, makes you feel like a real athlete.

The price tags are staggering, but sometimes, isn't it worth it to feel great? It's not only about not being the frumpiest girl at Physique. It's about knowing that even if you aren't the most traditional athlete in the room, even if you took a year off after cheerleading before figuring out that size 2 (or, ahem, even 4) was a memory not a right, sometimes it only takes some stretch lycra and a proper pair of socks to get you back in the groove. And when you feel like you look the part, you have only success to greet you when you walk through the door of whatever daunting gym looms ahead. Girls, gear up. And when you try Physique, tell them I sent you ;)

My Thanksgiving Face

Last night I met the little bro for a (few) glass(es) of wine and a salad. Okay, to tell the truth, there were French fries involved. Two orders. That is the whole truth... moving on.

After dinner we were play-fighting over a cell phone or a set of keys or who-knows-what and the little bugger got a wee bit too close to my face with those grubby little paws. I exclaimed, "Stop! You're going to ruin my face for Thanksgiving!" upon which he exploded into laughter and made some comment to the effect of, "Who cares?"

Am I alone in feeling like the Thanksgiving look matters? Alas, I know it's just family (and friends) scattered around the table, and the focus is on the food and the feeling and all the rest of it. But it also happens to be (one of) the most family oriented holiday(s) of the year, and someone's always snapping photos. In my house, tons of photos. Occasionally we'll find an old album and start leafing through; no matter what the year, there is always at least a page of shots from Thanksgiving--usually many.

I spent years in braces, some of those years overlapping with baby fat; then there were the metallic liquid eyeliner days of middle school and the bleach-blond cheerleading years too. Thanksgiving photos are a veritable timeline of the many stages of Jensy and why not put my best face forward this year for the current chapter?

All of this to say, I have started putting some thought into Thursday's makeup look. It's so important to find a balance somewhere between smoky eyes/juicy lips and nothing at all. Here is what I'm thinking...

EYES
A subtle smoke, something in the bronze family with hints of violet. This makes blue eyes pop but doesn't look too intense. Do-able with a dusting of sheer golden powder over the entire lid, a smokier purple in the crease, a quick line of bronze liquid and of course, plenty of black mascara (top and bottom, I can't help it).

Seen here with the Estee Lauder Bronze Goddess collection of products.

LIPS
A lovely nude infused with just enough sparkle that it feels festive, but not over-the-top. After all, this is a family affair. I like to give lips a nice buff first (especially in colder weather). Achievable by brushing gently with a spare toothbrush *yes, I keep an extra around for this!* and water.  Follow up with a great, creamy lip balm--my favorite is La Mer, but Rosebud Salve will do just as well. Then one coat of a pale pinky-beige lipstick covered with one coat of a great nude gloss. Not to give all the love to Estee today, but their Pure Color gloss in Peach Sizzle ($20) is perfect for this look.

Here is what I'm talking about; can you guess the famous face?







BRONZE FACTOR

A look from the Chanel 2010 Fall Makeup Collection

Same little bro (I only have one, after all) commented in a car trip last Saturday that I was way too bronze for the family get-together we were attending, let alone during daylight hours. I rectified as best I could with no sink, soap, or even towelettes on hand--covering everything with a dusting of mineral makeup one shade lighter than my skin. It worked, but not great. For Turkey Day, I think I will embrace the pale and warm up the cheeks only (as opposed to my famous all-over bronzing, yikes) with a faint dusting of pink as seen here.


So, that's the plan. Let's see if I can master the look and keep those photos looking cute, fresh, and not too dated this year.

My Barista Loves My Nail Polish...

Last Sunday I crammed in a super-quick manicure between my sixth phone call to my boss that day, and my afternoon SoHo date with Josh. I was typing, actually, and looking at the atrocity that had become my nails since their last pampering, so I grabbed a 20 and a pair of sunglasses and ran two blocks to Nails & More on Broadway for a do-over.

I hate to play favorites, but this walks-in-welcome cheap nail spot is the best in Manhattan by far. They always accommodate, it is clean as clean can be, and they're so nice. My favorite is Isabel. I was so glad to get her that day! With ruby red toe nails still in place from a similarly panicked moment a couple weeks prior, I decided to do something fun with my fingers since hey, it's winter now and who cares if the two sets of nails relate?

I browsed the rack feeling the usual combination of hope and boredom. Stick with something creamy and neutral that will look refined and professional at client meetings this week? Go for a punchy pale pink to bring back girlhood days without going overboard? Silly, flirty favorites like mint green or baby blue are out of the question since August is over and I officially have shed my Silly Bandz and given up crazy colors till Memorial Day comes once more. No, I suddenly decided, I wanted purple. I needed purple. It had to be purple or I had to leave.

Always a fan of Lilacism, I held up the familiar dusty lavender and contemplated it momentarily. I'll come back to you someday, Lilacism, I will. But today, I needed punchier! I need PURPLE. And there at the bottom of the rack, I found it. Something so out of the norm they had stashed it among the lime greens and the glittery blacks. A shimmering purple so deep, that changed in a moment to brown, then to a certain blue, then to silver, and back to a new, lighter shade of purple, by simply shaking the bottle. I had found my shade.

The beauty of a manicure by Isabel is that at a mere $9.50, it will actually last a week. As I write this, 6 days later, I have not even a chip. But the master of this particular manicure is that it has actually gotten stares. Compliments. Gushes. On the subway, at lunch with an industry contact, and then--the big moment--at Starbucks. My male barista on Monday morning, never one to look up or mutter much more than a "That'll be 2.50, ma'am," (MA'AM? Seriously?) actually stopped what he was doing, made eye contact and said, "Miss, love the nail color. So cool."

I died. I overreacted. I showered him millions of thanks because I was so excited. It wasn't in my head--this truly was the perfect color. And, it had mysteriously taken me from ma'am to miss in a matter of a moment. Bonus: three days later, same Starbucks, different barista, this one female-- "Girl! Love the nails!" Yay!

Here is the fun part. This too can be yours! It's called Main Squeeze. Looks a little different in this photo, but trust me in person you will adore. Look for it the next time, and let me know if your barista--or your boyfriend-- loves it as much as you do.

One Chic Shirt: FRESH PRESS by 607VISUAL

Have any of you ever had the need to produce a t-shirt for your company, a project, or your blog?  ;) For obvious reasons, I've been looking into this myself, and am struggling in that a lot of what's out there is kind of cheesy...

So excited today at having discovered this new initiative from San Francisco based design company founded by New Yorker (!) Brent Gentile. The gifted up-and-comer's designs can be scoped here. Gentile's work has been seen in campaigns for Mazda and JetBlue among other heavy hitters. This kid clearly needed a t-shirt for his company, but ran into the same dilemma I did while looking to commission something that was actually cool.

Designer Brent Gentile: self portrait

Luckily for Brent (and the rest of us!) he is a designer and was able to pour all that talent into his own t-shirt, aptly dubbed FRESHPRESS. The line will aim to put designers and creatives in control of the t-shirt search and create something that truly reflects their individual brands. The series will grow into a unique, exclusive clothing line as artists and designers are invited to participate and collaborate. Gentile says, "The idea of a graphic having the authority that renders something official or not is an incredible power, so I brought that idea to Fresh Press." The first FRESH PRESS t-shirt is now available, and in limited quantity, so hurry up and grab yours today, here.

FRESH PRESS #1 was hand printed in the heart of San Francisco on a heavy weight 100% Cotton Black V-Neck. FRESH PRESS #1 is an edition of 100 (30 Small, 40 Medium & 30 Large)
No more will be created.  Each shirt comes with an official numbered FRESH PRESS tag.
$25.00 each (does not include shipping & handling)

Gemma, A Gem

The Couple, En Route to Lower East Side

On Sunday afternoon, my boyfriend Josh and I had a couple hours to kill and after a quick subway ride downtown, we found ourselves wandering in the vicinity of the Bowery Hotel. We were starving, and cruised the neighborhood briefly looking for something appealing that would work with my food allergies (ugh. annoying). We found the charming Gemma, took a quick peek at their dinner menu and went right inside. It was 4:00, that witching hour when it's tough to find a great meal. But we knew immediately that we'd lucked out.

The endlessly charming interior cannot be captured adequately in photographs, no matter how lovely they turn out. The space feels at once comfortable yet elegant--as if you've wandered in to some fabulous aging debutante's private dining room and pulled up a chair. Lush, amber lighting compliments the decor comprised of vintage wine bottles wooden tables, mix-and-match chairs, thick white candles, and large antique mirrors.

The wait staff was friendly and attentive--bringing our water in a label-less wine bottle and a basket full of fresh-baked-still-warm foccacia as soon as we sat down. (This Celiac was not able to indulge in the bread, but the boy loved it!)

For our first course we shared the Chef's selection of meats and cheeses ($18), each heavenly bite of which was devoured instantly but allowed to linger on the tongue. For dinner, he ordered the parpardelle with oxtail ragu ($16) and I had the artichoke salad with parmesan and truffle vinaigrette ($13)--and, never one to turn down a truffle, I paired my salad with the truffled polenta fries ($7). The salad was delightful and full of flavor--not too much truffle oil, but enough to make the taste buds sing. The polenta fries came with two dipping sauces--one a cheesy pot of wonder and the other orange, spicy, and divine. Did I mention we drank some downright fantastic wine?

Munching and sipping contentedly, I scoped out the place and found a diverse spread of happy diners. A young hippie couple sat in a mirrored corner toasting life and enjoying appetizers. A rowdy group of girls my age huddled in a booth drinking too much wine and loving every drop. A long table in the center of the space provided adequate seating and food for a big family celebrating something on a lovely Sunday evening. An older couple held hands over their intimate table while awaiting entrees. And there was the inevitable screaming baby by the bar area, but we were too happy to care.

As our meal drew to close, I knew we had hours ahead of us to wander the streets arm-in-arm and shop and enjoy Downtown. But I was still so sad at having to leave Gemma, the warmth and friendliness of which had charmed us deeply. In a city full of eateries, each with its on schtick, it is always such an amazement to me that it can be so tiring finding the perfect place to fit your mood, budget, and aesthetic. Gemma was Sunday's perfect discovery--a memory formed over prosciutto and fine wine, a romantic spot that will be just as special when I return with my mom, a friend, or a business associate. It was divine. It was a gem.