Actually reading it for the article... I swear!

And it's mostly because I've already seen the nudie pictures of Kelly Wearstler. Who hasn't?! In fact, I'm hoping that it's the second thing they put on the overhead after "Welcome to Intro to Interior Design" on the basis that it's paramount to the education. (Do they even still have overheads?)

BUT what I never actually had read was the accompanying article. I can't imagine why I never read it before? But now that I have, I feel so much closer to Miss September 1994... totally awesome.

Kelly Gallagher

Miss September 1994

BIRTHPLACE: Myrtle Beach, South Carolina USA

BUST: 34" C

WAIST: 24"

HIPS: 35"

HEIGHT: 5' 6"

WEIGHT: 105 lbs

AMBITIONS:

To own my own marvelous design and furnishings business.

TURN-ONS:

Fabulous, intense minds, honesty, huge smiles and a man with a colossal heart.

TURNOFFS:

Lack of communication, cruelty to animals, slackers, and bad design.

ROMANCING MY MAN:

Breakfast in the boudoir, a bit of physical activity, trip to the museum for some mental and visual stimulation, a nibble for two to satisfy the palate and a trip to the beach to see the sun set and the moon rise.

I CAN'T GET ENOUGH OF:

Swap meets, blended coffees, Nicholson Baker novels & good loving.

(photo courtesy of Playboy)

Poor Design Girls

Looks like even the greats are having to get down with the masses, and by masses, I mean people who can still afford designers of a royal scale but were maybe turned away when the going was better.

This article in the New York Times features Phoebe Howard and Celerie Kemble amongst others talking about how they are having to change their business plans and (ahem) lower their caliber of budgets and clientele in order to keep the business going.

All in all, it features a refreshing take on the industry and an encouraging perspective, since we've all known that in order for designers to stay relevant, the model needed to change.

How to feel like a kid again...

In one of those wonderful acts of coming-togetherness, I found myself walking around Greenlake with my mom, sister, 4-year-old son of my other sister, and an 18-week old puppy. Aside from being the most haphazard walkers due to distractions caused by the puppy, distractions caused by the kid and occasional stops induced by Seattle puppy lovers, it was awesome. It reminds me of how lucky I am to have family nearby and how lucky I am to be around the kids in our family... and then thankfully bid adieu when the going gets tough and the screaming starts!

But more importantly, today I felt like a kid when my 4-year old nephew grabbed my hand and started skipping and for some reason, propably in an attempt to make him think I was cool, I started doing it too. And so, we skipped. Him in his little boy body, and me in my big girl body, skipping together & holding hands for good portions of our three miles together.

So if you want to feel young at heart and hopefully win adoration from a little one, skip. And if you really want to draw some attention, sing 'Skip to my loo' for two reasons alone: 1) Why not? And 2) to see if you remember the words.

You will.

Now Reading...

I saw the movie (of course) and now I'm inspired to read the book she wrote with her grandnephew shortly before her death in 2004. Having never been privileged to see the "French Chef" side of Julia, I really only knew her from her stint on Good Morning America, where she lit up our TV beside Charlie Gibson.

What an amazing woman. I'm inspired by the fact that she truly turned her passion in to a profession and did it at a 'late' age. AND, her relationship with Paul - wow.

Can't wait to curl up with my book in this overcast Seattle weather.

The Best (As I Know Them)

Since I haven't been buying many things lately, I've really started to appreciate the good purchases that I made back when I was rolling in dough and was not a student, living on leftovers and "borrowed" shelter magazines.

So here is the beginning of some of the best things I have ever had the pleasure of owning.

The Longchamp "Le Pliage Large" tote bag. I lived out of it for three months day in and day out and I'm still not sick of it. There's a reason that it's on the arm of every chic Parisian! It is a timeless bag. I've used it as a purse and and as an overnight bag and the quality can't be beat. I'm also waiting for the opportunity when folding it up and snapping it in a cute little bundle comes in handy, but mysteriously, it always seems to be full...

The Clarisonic. Looks like a vibrator, but cleans like a champ. I had wanted this little buddy for a good six months before I got it and it's lived up to the reputation. Clean face and according to my friend's mom, less wrinkles. It's like using a sonicare on your face and it feels FANTASTIC.

LuluLemon "Run: Tempo Crop" pants. With no picture available online, it's hard to convey just how amazing these are. I've never (I mean NEVER) felt comfortable wearing tight, clingy pants to the gym, but what I will say about these is that they actually suck you in. The tag boasts that the fabric is made to support muscles and joints while running, but what it actually does is lift the ass and hold all the squishy bits in. They're amazing. Seriously. I wouldn't go out in public if they weren't.

After I received the worst haircut known to man in April, the godsend who fixed it sprayed only this one product on my hair and it was amazing. All of a sudden, my hair stays straight if I flat iron it, doesn't frizz up if I air dry and it smells awesome. It might only be available locally, but it's from Seven, a salon in Seattle that I'm sure ships.

The hardest working little ballet flat. I took a similar pair to Europe and walked for days straight in Paris in them. The black is on my sale list at J.Crew, because I never pay full price there -- everything goes on sale eventually. Another reason I look like a walking catalog.

My Timbuk2 messenger bag. It's been with me for years of college, years of work, and now grad school and it's still going strong. Holds a laptop and my odds and ends and goes with anything, as long as you don't mind looking a little "dot com." Sure you wouldn't catch a Hepburn with it, but if they needed to carry a laptop, a lunch, school books and a change of clothes, they might consider it.

Bulgari 8008B's. The most glamorous pair of sunglasses - large and in charge with Swarovski crystals on the sides. Needless to say, I don't wear them boating, but I love them year after year.

I could have DIED when Nordstrom's put a similar Michael Kors watch on the Anniversary Sale (jerks), but I'll just take pleasure in knowing that my big gold watch elicited size envy from my old male co-workers in meetings and that it feels powerful on my girly wrist. I love the juxtaposition of a big gold watch with a feminine top. And if, occasionally, I am asked if I'm about to retire to Barbados, so be it.

And lastly, the Cole Haan "Fiona" boot. I ended up with two pairs last fall. It started with finally finding "The Boot." You know, the boot that we spend multiple falls looking for, one that fits our calves, zips (rather than uses that cheap stretch that never stays up), doesn't give us blisters, and makes us feel just the right amount of tall? Well, behold. It was just the black at first, until I met this little number. Brown/bronze snakeskin. They are a sight to see and kick so much ass. Wearing them to work over jeans made my cashmere sweaters feel more Angelina Jolie, less Ina Garten and with skirts and tights, come on.

So there might not be rain drops on roses and dresses made from curtains, but these are just a few of my favorite things, and if you have the means, I highly recommend them. They are so choice.

If only it were like this...

I've been noticeably absent from all of my regular non-phone communication methods for a few days now and I was starting to raise some eyebrows amongst my usuals on the email/g-chat circuit.

In response to telling my friend that I was at the Design Center, this is what I get back. Hilarious.

"I don't even know what that is.

I choose, however, to believe that it is your schools version of Save By The Bell's "The Max." I imagine lots of stereotypical design students with turtlenecks and black rimmed glasses sitting around Herman Miller tables eating square burgers. Then the Dean walks in and delivers the news that the 27th annual design dance is canceled because your rival school stole your mascot (Squarie the T-Square) and everyone has lost their spirit and there's no way you can win the big state wide drawing competition. At that point you and your friends embark on a poorly designed (pun intended) scheme to set everything right and along the way you end up learning a little about design and a lot about yourself. Then for some reason you film a PSA with the head of NBC warning kids about the dangers of speed."

Yup, Still Fat

It's official, I still have the Europe weight around the ol' hip region, but what I have gained is a new realization and it came to me like a bolt of lightning. Here is is: Nudists are just people who recently gained weight and have refused to go up a size.

I realized this when the best part of my day became unbuttoning my shorts, doing my first unrestricted deep bend and letting it all hang out. I'm pretty sure that nudists are people who had this moment and instead of taking it for what it is (fat smooshed in to clothes like a big human sausage), mistook it for a feeling of freedom from clothes and whatever hell else a nudist tries to sell their brand of crazy as.

So here's to all the nudists out there -- people who were one day just like you and I, but refused to listen to what their pants were telling them.

Here's my problem:

Why doesn't anyone warn you that getting in shape often means that you end up weighing more and that your pants won't fit?

If I wanted to buy a new wardrobe, I would have just gone out and done it, or oh yeah, not quit my job and decided to go back to school and rendered myself broke. Because let me tell you, this girl cannot afford new pants right now.

So listen up ass and thighs. Go back to the way you were. I'd rather be skinny and continue wearing my $200 dollar jeans. They aren't flash in the pan items and I intend to keep wearing them. Just as soon as I can button them, or honestly, get them over my thighs and around my ass.

But seriously, why is there no mention of this when people say they work out? Now I'm going to the gym but trying to do cardio that doesn't build muscle just so I can continue to wear my "investment pieces."

The things we do...

Ciao Italy

I'm about to leave Italy and am now well in to the second half of my trip. Next up is Greece and after quite a bit of time in Rome, I can't say I'm super sad to be moving on. While I love so many things about this country, there are a few things that are starting to get on my nerves -- namely the men.

Never, never, have I felt so objectified and preyed upon by men in my entire life. Walking down the street is a drain and passing by groups of police officers makes me feel as safe as a little boy at Michael Jackson's Neverland. Making eye contact is like saying you'll sleep with them, and if you smile or say more than your order to a waiter, you might end up pregnant.

The girlfriend I'm traveling with gets it even worse than I do since she can speak Italian and is more they're 'type' than I am. And, generally I wear a face that say's 'fuck off' to men more naturally after lots of practice and teenage years spent being an undesirable, but my poor friend had to adopt it here, and more importantly, wear it convincingly.

A shining example: At lunch last week, neither of us were in the mood to do more than eat and make conversation with each other, but we always order in Italian and (maybe since we're American?) this is seen as an invitation to be hit on. During our time there, one waiter touched her back while taking our order and later, another waiter came up and stroked her face when she was looking down in what maybe appeared to be a contemplative moment.

He literally came up and stroked her entire face with the back of his hand and tried to hold it for a moment! Had we not been so shocked, he would have lost a finger right then and there.

We've been proposed to while buying sodas, touched while trying to eat meals, moaned at while walking down the street and felt up on buses. Another friend told of how it's not uncommon for a man to expose himself to you. Extreme, yes, and probably by a lunatic, but nonetheless, peen in public, no other way to look at it.

The Italian women obviously don't set themselves up for it the way tourists do, since they have the best 'fuck off' faces of all. They walk down the street with purpose, never making eye contact, and never acknowledging the men around them, but I still wonder if they get it as badly as a tourist does? I would think not, otherwise it would be hard to procreate with someone who's opening line consisted of, "Very nice, very nice, the body and the face is all good, very nice."

No matter how hard one can try to fit in here, it's always going to be obvious that we're not locals. I can appreciate that. But I'm looking forward to going someplace where that fact alone means it's open season on my ass.

Excuses

I know they're lame, but here is another:

My computer broke. The sweet little laptop that I took with me has decided to only display a cryptic screen stating "NTLDR is Missing." So, after exploring Italian repair options, I expressed shipped it's lazy ass back to states and it's promptly being shipped back to me. So after almost 3 weeks with no free internet, I will be up and running and back in the spirit.

Thanks for checking in though, regular programming to resume as soon as I can get my hot little hands back on it.