Hello, friends.

I feel like I owe you a real post.

Like, something more than yet another Dear ESB (though there are plenty of those coming... don't worry).

Should I fill you in on what I've been doing? Just finished a casting gig for that pretty cool fashion-related reality TV show. Pitching one film project, madly drafting a new draft of another.

Life is pretty good, you guys. Lately I've been feeling like an honest-to-god writer. (Though I'm breaking one of my own rules by talking about it here. Rule #10: Stop talking about writing and write.)

Weirdly, when things are going well in other realms, it makes me clam up on the interwebs. I'm always more inclined to blog when I'm avoiding doing something else.

But there's nothing to avoid at the moment. There's just me, tapping away on my laptop. Watching American Horror Story: Coven with my adorable husband. Making lentil soup. Going to yoga.

Whoops I just broke another rule: DON'T BE THAT ASSHOLE WHO TALKS ABOUT GOING TO YOGA




OMIGOD I'M AN ASSHOLE. I'M A BORING BORING ASSHOLE



























You are all unsubscribing right now, aren't you?? Shit.

Nancy Fouts via The Independent

DEAR MY LADIES

Dear My Ladies,

(You know who you are.)

You who are sooooooooo close to your wedding day.

You who are freaking out because your face is breaking out/the dress needs last minute alterations/your family is being anything but helpful….

You who are reallllllllllly wishing you'd eloped right about now.

Please picture me out here in the blogosphere with a big ol pair of pom poms cheering for you.*

You will prevail.

You will drink drinks (before and after, if necessary) and you will rock that GODDAMN DRESS and you will be surrounded by friends and family who love you (including your HUSBAND!) (or WIFE!!) and you will think, "oooooooooh, this is what it's all about."

And best of all, when it's over you will be married.

xoxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxo,

ESB

Jemima Kirke, Zosia Mamet, Allison Williams and Lena Dunham (the GIRLS) by Autumn De Wilde courtesy of New York Mag via Catbird via Ginny Branch Stelling

______________________________

*With fond memories of the wedding cheer a lady once gave me.

Temperley FTW

Did anyone catch Project Runway last week?

Alice Temperley was a guest judge, and she wore this dress with red lipstick and (something like) these shoes. (They might have been wedges.)

Anyhoo, the combo was SO GOOD

AMERICAN HORROR STORY, YOU GUYS

We have consumed 7 episodes in the past 48 hours.

SO GOOD.

So satisfying to watch a show that is scary and complicated and also CONFUSING: as in you don't know why that just happened and you have no idea what's about to happen next. And there's no fucking voice-over telling you what to think and how to feel and explaining it all to you.

Bonus: American Horror Story is shot in our neighb, and Dylan McDermott runs/hikes in all the places I hike/pretend to run. So if you want a badass tour of Echo Park....

Warning: The show is pretty fucking scary. If you're pregs, you may want to skip it.
______________________________

In case you're wondering HOW? We watched the pilot on the FX site, bought eps 2-3 from Amazon, and then drilled down into our on-demand to find eps 4-7. A repeat of ep 9 is set to record on Wednesday, so we may shell out the $2.99 for ep 8 if it's not available on demand by then.

My own behavior gives me hope for the industry. I mean: YAY! If you make good sh*t, people will TRACK IT DOWN and happily pay money to see it. 

he doesn't want babies after all.

dearest esb,

I just wanted first of all to say thank you, and even though you are an evil club of mean, hipster brides, I have thought of you as my friends, inspiration and source of much merriment in the last three or so years of my engagement... 

and here we get to the tricky part. My FH and I are parting ways. We are still very much in love and respect each other deeply, however, FH, or maybe I should say NFH (no-longer future husband), has decided he does not want babies after all. Which is something I can not compromise on in the least... This does in a way, make the whole decision a little easier... I mean it is not as if you can strike a balance and have half a baby.... but it does not make it any less complicated having to picture a life with out the soul mate I thought I would spend the rest of my life with... 

I try super tremendously hard to maintain a positive spin on this ... I am planning like a mo-fo... trips to Paris; a change of town; lots of galleries, wine bars and society after moving to a tiny Australian town with the man. But it is hard; hard to laugh when my awesome older brother tells me he's getting engaged to his amazing girl... difficult to keep smiling when the students at my school keep asking me when the wedding is and where their invites are (super sweet really)... tremendously complicated when I think of the plans and decisions we had made... (we had named our first born son in hypothetical land and talked about all of this before anyone thinks this was rushed into or glossed over.. the decision was recent and out of the blue..) 

and I could probably list one hundred or so more instances that make me falter in my daily flight, but it is not hard to visit ESB and giggle. In fact it is a daily check for me during some down time at work. I love the outrageous responses and questions. I like the catharsis and acerbic wit, the vicarious joy of yay or naying. It is one of the few survivors of what is at best a time of vast change and growth... and it does give me pause to keep looking ahead, yeah that dress is funky and flash, and there may be a day when I'm looking again, and to be honest to myself I hope so. 

So thank you for the smiles and glimpses of new

*****

Lady, I'm so proud of you. Both of you.

There would be fewer divorces if everyone did this kind of soul-searching before they tied the knot.

xoxoxxxxx.

Tiny Vipers by David Belisle via Claire Cottrell via jen causey
______________________________

Incidentally, did you guys see the season premiere of Grey's Anatomy on Thurs? I shouted at my TV: "THANK YOU, SHONDA!" when they depicted (onscreen, on network TV!) a strong, successful, married woman choose to put her feet up in the stirrups and have an abortion rather than carry to term a child she didn't want.

Her decision was of course complicated by the fact that her husband did want kids (something they didn't discuss before they got married).

Anyhoo.

Do I invite the Bat-shit crazy aunt??

Hello ESB,

I'm consulting a professional on this matter. You'll get why. My wedding is two months away. Hoping for only 100 guests, we sent out over 100 invitations, most of which are more than one person per. So, you see how my mother and grandmother went overboard. Mind you, my mother is not the "jump up and down I can't believe you're getting married" type. She has her moments, but majority of the time she's the "frugal, simple- you don't need your hair or makeup done professionally" type. Which doesn't fly with me -- I'm doing this Go Big or Go Vegas. Which brings me to my dilemma.

My family is extra large and extra close. We've had family businesses and family investments together. Think Gotti without the mob and murders, or Real Housewives (Danielle might be a good example of my aunt). So our family finally came to blows last year and we experienced a rift and drama. Aside from the money, there were words that shouldn't have been spoken between family members. But forgiveness is divine and my personal opinion is that everyone was at fault in the end. 

That being said, my aunt/ godmother -- invite or not invite? My other aunts have forbid me from doing so because of their own personal preference. My mother is just as torn as I am. For me I would have the opportunity to be the bigger person but risk a disaster. While if I don't my mom has the potential to get even more drama from her later on (and my cousins won't come). There are a lot of opinions and I'll admit, I'm actually tempted to let her come so that I do get to finally say something to her if the situation arose.

So far I've been told to keep my mouth shut because it's between the older generation. But it's family and isn't a wedding day about inviting family? I could really use some no nonsense do or do not. Considering her children are invited she is going to know about the details.

(Mind you, it's not a mere squabble either, between you and me, we're talking millions of dollars and years worth of issues.)

*****

It sounds like you want to invite Ms. Bat-shit Crazy. I say DO IT.

p.s. The Real Housewives reference is totally lost on me, thank god. That's one of the few reality tv shows I can't stand to watch.

Photo: Astrid by Bo Brinkenfalk for Schön Magazine via Fashion Gone Rogue

I think I might be watching too much TV

Okay, I KNOW I'm watching too much TV.

I had dinner with a friend and her little girl last night, and I embarrassed myself by referencing Extreme Couponing and/or The Nanny no fewer than five times.

My excuse is that I just finished my script. (I'm unwinding before i start the next one...? Or making myself so stir crazy that I will have no choice but to start the next one??)

And plus H has been out of town for the past week.

But yeah, I've kind of gone off the deep end. THERE'S NOT EVEN ANYTHING GOOD ON.

Photo by Emily Keegin via woolgathering & miscellany

better in pairs.

H and I have spent the past two days sleeping, eating cheese and crackers, catching up on Dexter, sleeping, and oh! let's not forget the trip to Whole Foods. The biggest event of the weekend.

To be fair, we're both recovering from a cold.

But driving to the store with this guy, and listening to a v. geeky podcast, and then coming home to put away groceries and do the two-week-old dishes and watch last week's episode of Gossip Girl seemed like the perfect Saturday night to me.

(The gorg photos from Iceland -- and the title for this post -- are borrowed from the ever-inspiring SAIPUA)

Resolutions for 2010

1. I will not refer to myself as an old lady. I may be thirty----, but everyone knows my psychic age is seventeen. I briefly considered celebrating this idea by buying the nude mesh leggings, but alas, they are still ONE HUNDRED AND SEVENTY TWO DOLLARS. Eff that. Will procure $13 zipper leggings at Target or make my own.

Please note: LEGGINGS ARE NOT PANTS. Be sure your ass is covered when you leave the house. And I know you'd never consider wearing leggings as pictured above, even if they had neon zippers with triangle tabs. (Do I sound like an old lady? In 1983-1991 we covered our asses. Is all I'm saying.)

2. I will wear impossibly cool outfits at all times. Even when "popping over" to Trader Joe's (you never know when you'll spot someone you know and be forced to leave without potato chips in order to avoid talking to her), sitting on my ass blogging,* or sitting on my ass watching bad reality TV. Perhaps should also watch less bad reality TV?

3. I will not ---- -- ----. This one's a secret. (Duh.) It's a compulsive habit I have that I would very much like to be rid of. I'm hoping by putting it out there(ish), I can actually cut it out this time.**

4. Um....

5. I will take up yoga, eat organic, stick to a budget. Stop twittering when I'm hanging out with my husband. The usual.

*As of 9:17am on Jan 2, I have already broken this resolution.

**Broke this one yesterday. But I will not be deterred. 2010 is the year I become perfect.

So yeah, the gift guides running all over the blogosphere are starting to make me a little nauseous. And now I feel guilty about the materialistic shit I post all the time.

Inspired by Keri Smith, I thought I'd offer an anti-gift guide. Or, TEN THINGS TO DO INSTEAD OF SHOPPING:*

1. Mail a holiday card to one of your blog friends. Maybe the one who sent you a present that you never properly acknowledged? You have her address. Just saying.

2. Learn how to use the juicer. Because you can't let your husband do everything for you. At least not when he's out of town.

3. Watch 4 hours in a row of Tabatha's Salon Takeover. Later, discover an awesome (in the original sense of the word) arrangement of dusty cobwebs under your desk and wonder whether Tabatha would consider taking over your house.

4. Figure out where to donate your old coat.

5. Put on your new coat and go for a walk. Snap photos of weird graffiti with your phone and save them as wallpaper.

6. Apply bioré pore strips to your entire face. Cheaper than a facial, and so much more satisfying!

7. Blast Uhh Yeah Dude while "reorganizing" the kitchen cabinets. (Read: Secretly recycling your husband's massive jar collection. What is he saving those for??)

8. Make a super rad mix CD to give your best girlfriends. Hell, give it to some guys too.** Note: Old New York mags and Urban Outfitters catalogs would make excellent raw material for collaging the cover art.

9. Finish that book you started in August.

10. SLEEP. Sleep sleep sleep.

(You can find Keri's list here.)

*Alternate title: TEN THINGS TO DO WHEN YOUR HUSBAND IS OUT OF TOWN

**I may or may not, in fact, be working on a "celebrity playlist" for The Flashdance. I'm still waiting for MA to figure out he's got me mixed up with someone else. Celebrity. Tee hee.

I may have found my look for fall

Via duke and larn

p.s. H-town thinks that Gossip Girl has gone down the tubes now that high school is over, but I'm still into it. Pls discuss.

I watch too much TV

Way too much TV. Especially when there are other more important things I should be doing.

But I won't lie, I'm pretty stoked that Jason Schwarztman's new HBO series, Bored to Death, premieres this Sunday.

Here he is rocking Band of Outsiders (via Vain and Vapid)

Do cutoffs count as a DIY project?

H is out of town and I basically binged on tv all weekend, in between hitting the American Apparel rummage sale and a bitch & switch at Christina's (hooray for recycled fashion!).

But I did say we were supposed to make shit this weekend... So after a five-episode marathon of Weeds (seven if you count the two I watched last night) I decided I needed a pair of cutoffs. Don't judge. We can't all be mistresses of the gocco/yudu/letterpress. Or whatever.

How'd you do?

(Photo via Garance Doré)

My next DIY project will be to finally learn how to use our juicer. There's a bag of carrots in the fridge that's not gonna stay fresh until H-town gets home.

Hi

I think I'm back. My body is back anyway, happily getting reacquainted with my little desk in the kitchen of the bungalow. It's possible I've left a few pieces of my brain strewn across the Bay Bridge. And in the parking lot of the Emeryville Denny's. (Which is a movie unto itself on a Saturday night, let me tell you.)

Anyhoo, I missed you guys. My plans for recovery/reemergence are as follows:

1. Bloggety blog blog blogging.

2. Blog stalking. (Yeah YOU.)

3. Doing laundry laundry and more laundry. This may not seem like an important part of the cure, but a) all our clothes are dirty and b) I find doing laundry strangely theraputic. I think I'm still high on having my own washing machine.

4. Drinking whiskey and watching the new True Blood.

5. Tweeting publicly again. I love YOU GUYS. I want you with me always so I can talk to you, say, when H-town gets wrapped up in a wildly boring cell conversation in the car, or I'm standing in the dressing room at Crossroads and I need style advice asap. It's only when the desperate self-promoters/assy wedding planners/porn spammers (it's a fine line) descend that I want to scratch my face off.

I have much suckier things I need to take care of, like replacing the rusted-out exhaust pipe on Blue, my beloved Volvo station wagon, and finally f*cking doing our taxes. But what's another day or two?


Images via Le Fashion. I just can't wear docs again (believe me, I wore the hell out of them from 1989-1994), but when I was costume shopping here the other week I was sorely tempted by a pair of combat boots. They are supremely good with this sheer dress.

So, that happened.

I didn't so much achieve my goal as reach the end of the time allotted... But anyhoo.

It's four o'clock. It's effing hot in here. I'm gonna take a cold bath and drink a whiskey on the rocks. Maybe watch Grey's while I do it. Anybody have a problem with that?

Wishing I smoked cigarettes (though really they just give me a headache),*
East Side

(Image via Life in Lomo)

*This sign off is an homage to bohemian hellhole. I love her sign offs. And I've determined that she's got better taste than Decorno. So there.

I want more sparkle in my life

I blame Gossip Girl mostly.

Been wearing my sparkly sweater coat to shreds, but now I might really need this. I do have a birthday coming up....

(Vogue UK January 2009 via .v)

Dear Cat Power

If only I could channel an iota of your cool while I sit around the house. Blogging.

Maybe I should start with getting dressed in the morning. A little eyeliner wouldn't hurt either.

Bitch, pleeze (Did you see this? OMG.)

Image found here

But if he's planning to wear a tux

You must read Mad Men costume designer Janie Bryant's thoughts on formal wear. Right now.

You might also enjoy reading what she has to say about the different (male) Mad Men characters and the contemporary menswear designers she favors.

Then please come back to give me your thoughts on guys with pinky rings.

(John Hamm and January Jones courtesy of AMC)

bunny ears? who comes up with this stuff??

I know I said I'd try to stop spotting the next thing.* But this has me alarmed.

I do, however, appreciate the how-to from T Magazine for achieving the look: While hair is still wet, jump into bed with Johnny Depp and roll around until hair dries. Do not comb. Mist lightly with hair spray, and wipe that smile off your face.

Sounds like a beauty regime I can handle.

More bunny ears (with tousled hair) here.

*Or are bunny ears and black masks all part of the same carnival/Eyes Wide Shut/fetish thing? Hello, Gossip Girl, on trend as usual.

Penn Badgley, nouveau prepster

This one's for K, who noted how well Penn wears a cardigan on Gossip Girl. (Ha! Now you're hooked.)

He's is a little clean cut for my taste, obviously. But I do like a good cardigan. And this Jil Sander suit is slammin.

More photos and complete styling credits at men.style.com

(Photos: Terry Richardson)