The Proust Questionnaire

I am a huge admirer of Vanity Fair's monthly mixing of a celebrity and the Proust Questionnaire. In fact, this last page mainstay is always the first place I turn. I mean, who doesn't want to know what Martha Stewart's favorite names are, or what Martin Scorsese's idea of perfect happiness is? I am thrilled that a compilation of all the magazine's Proust Questionnaires is now available in book form. Now I can stop ripping the good ones out and then losing them in the paper mountains of all my other magazine "inspirations."

Dating all the way back to 19th Century Parisian Salons, this former parlor game, thought up by the divine (Disclaimer: I've never read anything he has written, but he's French and a writer, so by default....divine) author Marcel Proust, has stood the test of time and remains both relevant and intriguing. I have always wanted to take it myself, so what better time than the present?

Your favorite qualities in a man? Charm and an ability to not take himself too seriously.

Your favorite qualities in a woman? Independence first and foremost...

What is your idea of perfect happiness? A world with no illness and a well-designed old house full of art, books, photos and children.

What is your greatest fear? Losing those close to me and a perpetual fear of abandonment...

What is the trait you most deplore in yourself? Cowardice...I need to learn how to stand up for myself and speak my mind or as my mother would say, the gloves need to come off.

What is the trait you most deplore in other? I could go on and on but mainly: egotism and self-delusion, with the latter becoming almost epidemic.

Which living person do you most admire? I should say Obama or a selfless humanitarian but I'm going to be honest. Kate Winslet.

What is your greatest extravagance? Living relatively well in Los Angeles.

What do you consider the most overrated virtue? Honesty in all instances. Not always the best policy.

On what occasion do you lie? When I determine that honesty is indeed not the best policy.

What do you dislike most about your appearance? I have big feet and small eyes.

Which living person do you most despise? I have quite a few...Bin Laden, George W. Bush, the dumbass who wrote "I Hope They Serve Beer in Hell," Paris Hilton, Sarah Palin...I know I'm missing somebody...

Which words or phrases do you most overuse? "F--k me!," "Bloody hell" and lately, "I die." Thank you Rachel Zoe.

When and where were you happiest? The first time I ever walked onto a working film or television set, which happened to be "Dawson's Creek" in Wilmington, NC in the fall of 2000. A total defining moment.

If you could change one thing about yourself, what would it be? I would change my attitude towards exercise.

What do you consider your greatest achievement? I haven't come close to achieving it yet but thus far, my ability to pinpoint who it is I want to be. I can totally see it. Now I just have to get there.

If you were to die and come back as a person or thing, what would you be? A lovely French girl.

Where would you like to live? My ultimate dream is to divide my time between Los Angeles and Cincinnati. If you want really specific, I would like an old Victorian home in Cincinnati and a mid-century modern dwelling in LA....

What is your most treasured possession? Since people and animals aren't possessions...my matchbook collection.

What is your favorite occupation? Art house movie theatre owner or Egyptologist...depends on my mood.

What do you most value in your friends? I value their ability to stick around.

Who are your favorite writers? F. Scott Fitzgerald, Anais Nin, Helen Fielding, Edith Wharton.

Who is your favorite hero/heroine of fiction? Isabel Archer from "Portrait of a Lady."

Which historical figure do you most identify with? Marie Antoinette.

What is your greatest regret? Not studying abroad when I was younger.

How would you like to die? In my sleep and not alone.

What are your favorite names? Eloise, Charlotte, Lilah, Ever, Kate...

What is your present state of mind? Cautious optimism.

What is your motto? "Keep calm and carry on."

To buy the book and read what some actual interesting people have to say, click here...

But I Don't Want To...

A worthy sentiment I'm sure, but I like my ghosts and wish to hold on to them for a bit longer, thank you very much....

From here.

Je t'aime pas...

So simple and pretty and yet, so incredibly mean to whoever it was intended for...love it! Oh, and very Ed Ruscha-esque for those that like that type of word art, as I definitely do...
From here...

Paris Fashion Week= Très Jealous

I officially need to stop drooling at my TIVO. It's been nearly 12 hours since I first watched "The Rachel Zoe Project's" Paris Fashion Week episode, and every time I venture past my television, I fight the insatiable urge to stop everything I'm doing and watch it again. Chock full of what I refer to as "Paris Porn," it's just...I die. But not literally. Rachel loves to say she "literally" dies, her heart is "literally" going to beat out of her chest, etc. What I'm not literally dying of is Paris Fever. And let me tell you, I've got it bad.

And this episode certainly did not help. I mean, did they have to stay at the George V? In a suite, with walk-in closets nonetheless? Did they have to go to Didier Ludot, a mythical store which I tried valiantly but failed to locate when I was in Paris for that ever so brief a moment? I was just waiting for them to head to Colette, another store I went looking for, only to end up standing in front of a construction zone trying to translate a sign in French that said Closed for Remodeling. Thankfully, they spared me on that one. Oh, and Coco Chanel's apartment? Seriously. I was actually making little noises as Rachel got to try on Coco's glasses. Too much...

And Rachel and Brad are right, there is nothing like the sun warming you in Paris, and nothing like the way the light illuminates those spectacularly gorgeous buildings and monuments. The energy there is just overwhelming. You can see it on their faces, even though Rachel claims to have been there a thousand times before. Paris is magic. It absolutely is the most enchanting city in the world.

I must, must, must go back, and soon.

Somewhere between the 800 Euro vintage Dior trench coats, Hermes bracelets and general Chanel fabulosity Brad briefly talked with the designer Erin Fetherston, which happened to make me think of a spread the sorely missed Domino did a few years back of her Parisian flat that was so lovely, I ended up saving the pictures in my "Inspirations" book. Even though it has been a few years, I thought I would post some pictures of her charming, quintessentially French pied-à-terre...




A chaise fit for both Marie Antoinette and an insanely chic modern French girl....


Another brilliant use of the color green.


Adore the rather bohemian edge of having a hanging scarf soften the lines of a large iron chandelier.


At some point in my life, I will have a home with lovely french windows like these.

Mad for Marc

I'm loving this little black dress from Marc by Marc Jacobs' new line. Yes, I know, how many LBD's does one girl need, but seriously, it's functional with a touch of flair to it. The back is très adorable as well, with it's scalloped edges and lace trim...

When In London...The 40 Winks Hotel

I think I'm having a green moment.

And while green is definitely not reviled like blue is in my mind, it certainly isn't my go-to color, by any stretch. I blame the unfortunate hunter green and burgundy decorating onslaught that ruled in the middle of the last decade. Green just seems very...done. And dated. It was years before I could even use red again, one of my favorite colors, and when I did end up painting a wall red, I stood anxiously at the paint counter, barking adjectives like, "red bricks just after a rainstorm, MAC lipstick's Russian Red, 1920's Chinoiserie and you know, the exact color in Ozzy Osbourne's house." The paint guy just gave me a bit of a side eye and shook his head. "Just please don't make it burgundy," I sighed.

After I got it up on the wall, I stood, head cocked to the side, and asked my husband, "Does it look burgundy to you?" He, only half listening as usual, glanced up and shrugged. I asked again, this time with my voice shaking and squeaking like someone about to have a panic attack. "DOES it look...BURGUNDY... to you?" He finally got it, head snapping up, alarmed, and said, "NO, no...it...NO. NO. NO...no." Thank god, right?

So here are a few pictures of the David Carter designed 40 Winks Hotel in London. Since I was not crazy about our hotel the last time we were there, this is definitely on my shortlist of options when I venture back there.



I love how the green on the walls is so dark it appears almost black from certain angles. But it definitely has the depth of a color that is not black.



Nope, definitely not green, but a few black and white stripes on a Friday afternoon has never hurt anyone.




All images come from pointclickhome.com.

Misadventures in Necromania...

So I did indeed venture to Necromance on Melrose to find "authentic" gothic decor for my "Murder at Marie Antoinette's Court" Soiree.

Authentic is one way of putting it.

I don't know what I was expecting, really. I mean, a store name that is obviously derived from the word Necromania, which means, in simpleton speak, a weird sexual attraction to death and dead people, should really speak for itself. I suppose I was expecting the slightly sanitized Disneyland version. That is most certainly not what I got.

Let me paint this picture for you. I actually awaken Tuesday morning in an uncommonly colorful mood. This is rare. I like black. A lot. So anyway, I'm feeling vibrant and cheerful, also somewhat of a rarity, especially in the morning. Without thinking, I throw on my trendy, frayed and cropped boyfriend jeans, a light grey (I know, I know...baby steps) sweater that falls slightly off shoulder and my favorite lace-up hot purple (like hot pink but purple) gladiator sandals. I'm even rocking a bright red scarf.

At some point in the day, I decide that Necromance is my next stop. Still totally unaware of myself (how completely LA of me), I roll up in my big, shiny yupster SUV to a spot right in front of the store. This, my fellow Angelenos will agree, is a feat of nature not unlike outrunning a tornado on foot. It just doesn't happen. So here I am, on this strangely deserted stretch of Melrose, talking on my cell, nodding my head to Miley Cyrus' "Party In the USA" (HATE Miley....LOVE that song), my hair in a jaunty ponytail with Chanel sunglasses pushed up on top to keep my "bangs" out of my face. Yep, I am pretty much a walking cliche at this point. I could totally pass for a blond version of a Kardashian sister. It's pretty pathetic.

So I get out, cell phone still in hand, texting away, and try and find the entrance. The only sign is a hand-painted skull perched above a rather crypt-keeper looking door. I try it. Doesn't budge. Meanwhile, my first clue that something might be awry is when I notice a vintage babydoll skewered horror movie style on a meat hook in the window. Now, I don't remember that from the Haunted Mansion ride...

Anyway, so I knock, ever so gently, and after what seems like an eternity and a half, a woman pushes open the door, looks me up and down, mutters something about cell phones and the devil, and walks away. Ok, I think, no worries. If I can venture into Chanel on Rodeo Drive the morning after the Oscars clad only in pumpkin sleep pants and a t-shirt that reads "I See Dumb People," I can do this. ( a long story from my celeb assistant days...I don't normally leave the house looking like that).

I enter, and two thoughts jump into my head simultaneously. The first is, I am pretty sure I'm not finding a damn thing for my party in here. The second is, it smells like death. And patchouli. Or maybe patchouli trying to cover up the smell of death. Whatever it may be, It's not pleasant. Despite this, deserted boutique etiquette states that you must at least browse before making a hasty exit, so I am stuck. And desperately wishing I had worn my typical uniform of black on black on black with maybe a touch of black and white. The red scarf is making me feel like Dorothy in the Wizard of Oz in reverse as I keep tying and untying the ends as some kind of nervous tick. I'll avoid the trite "there's no place like home" cliche, but you know I was thinking it.

So I start from the front and work my way back, and am introduced to everything from Victorian Era Mourning Photography (really old photographs of dead people in various states of repose) to dried, stuffed animal parts including armadillo feet, bird heads, bat wings, bugs, teeth of unspecified origin and a dead mouse in a trap that I stare at for a good thirty seconds before I get a "Yes. It's real." yell from the back of the store. There are actual skeletons, including a rather large collection of skeleton heads with their age tacked on to each one. One of them said 33 days, and I am still trying to decipher if it was a 33 day old person that died or if the skull has been separated from it's owner for 33 days. I'd actually rather not think about it...

A little farther back, in a gorgeous antique curio cabinet I wouldn't mind at all having in my house, are actual x-rays of human bones. The ones with very obvious breaks in them are more expensive. I mean, obviously, right? The bone saws are more than a little disturbing, as are the old-school dental extraction tools and glass eyeballs. Now my eyes hurt. As do my teeth. Seriously, people really get off on this crap? I turn warily toward the back to see how much further I have to go. Then, like a light shining down from heaven above, I see a rack of somewhat normal looking postcards near the cashier and make a beeline for them, eliciting a little sneer and a knowing roll of the eyes from the saleswoman, who I don't even need to describe because she looks just like you're imaging.

Twelve dollars, 10 postcards and a pack of absinthe gum later, and I spill back out into the 97 degree California sunshine, never in my life so glad to have a lungful of extremely warm, smog-laden "fresh" air.

Next stop: Anywhere but here. As it turns out, I am officially NOT a necromaniac, and am quite thankful for that fact. I'll also probably never be a hard core goth chick, which I pretty much suspected all along. As for the party, I'm back to square one.

P.S. See, people, this is what happens when I go and wear COLOR. That damn scarf is all but dead to me now...
P.P.S. I apologize for the novel. Short posts for the next few days, I promise.

An Education

It is barely October, nearly a month before award season fare starts trickling slowly but surely into movie theatres, and I already have my film of the year. And I must say, a new favorite film of at least the last decade, if not of all time. Ok, maybe co-favorite, sharing the title with another coming-of-age masterpiece, Almost Famous. I don't even need to see Nine before making such an assertion. Not even the thought of Daniel Day Lewis driving a vintage car along a cliff in the South of France can sway me.

An Education is a coming-of-age tale about a young girl, Jenny, who is seduced by an older man in 1960's London. It is also, in my opinion, a very rare example of cinematic perfection. Very, very rare, I might add, in the current film landscape of big budgets and big explosions with very little content. I'd like to write an open letter to the idiots behind G.I. Joe and tell them kindly that the super-bionic character who has things injected into them against their will that then allows them to scale walls, leap off balconies and karate chop people three times their size has been done. To death. Please move on, I beg of you.

If I could take a fantasy screenwriting credit for any film, I would pick this one. I wouldn't change a single word, and that just never happens. For example, I actually had visions of leaping into Kate Winslet's mouth during Revolutionary Road to make her say the words I knew she should be saying. The actual writer of this film, Nick Hornby of About a Boy fame, is pitch perfect for the era and also for the age and gender of his main character, played by the luminous Carey Mulligan. They should hand out this script on the first day of every Screenwriting 101 class. It's that spectacular.

Likewise, the cinematography is simply stunning, as highlighted by the gorgeous, slightly faded dreamscape that is a young Francophile's first encounter with a mid-century Paris. Did I say Francophile? Why yes I did. Can you say you had me at hello? Or more like had me at minute five, as a young, British Jenny lies on her picture perfect 1960's bedroom floor in knee socks reading a french novel and listening to Juliette Greco on her record player. Yep, I'm in.

Best Picture? Yes. Best Actress? Most definitely. Please go see this movie. Let's try and save intelligent filmmaking from extinction.

An Education opens on October 16th.

Penélope Perfection and Girl Crushes...

I was absolutely thrilled to hear that one of my ultimate girl-crushes, Penélope Cruz, was on the cover of the November Vanity Fair. To me, she is simply one of the most gorgeous creatures on earth. And yes, I did say girl crush. I think I used that phrase once before in regards to the lovely Marion Cotillard and someone told me they had never heard of such a thing.

Well, according to Urban Dictionary, the definition of a "Girl Crush" is: "Feelings of admiration and adoration which a girl has for another girl, without wanting to shag said girl. A non-sexual attraction, usually based on veneration at some level." So, after looking up "veneration" on dictionary.com and learning that it basically means respected, I am thinking that pretty much sums it up. No, people, I do not want to "shag" (love that word!) Penélope. Although, if I were to swing that way she would most certainly be my poster girl.

In case you're interested, other actress "Girl Crushes" of mine include Marion Cotillard (as stated previously), Emily Blunt, Cate Blanchett, Audrey Tautou, Meryl Streep, Frances McDormand and my ultimate girl crush, (more like girl obsession) Kate Winslet. Le sigh....adore her.

As you can see, I primarily like my female actresses French or British, with a definite predilection for drama as opposed to comedy. Forget TV stars. Sorry. Film is definitely more my thing....

*Photo from the November Vanity Fair.*

I Heart...

I did not set out to do a post on baby items today. However, I just happened across a few things that I can't help swoon over. I mean, really, this is some of the cutest baby paraphernalia I have ever seen, and all on the same site too.

Should the stars ever align and I actually have a baby, let's just call this my fantasy gift registry. Forget the bottles and ear cleaners and nose aspirators. Just bring me an Eiffel Tower stuffed toy. Or this delicious black and white striped onesie...




All items come from Oeuf...

A Thought...

"That pleasure which is at once the most pure, the most elevating and the most intense, is derived, I maintain, from the contemplation of the beautiful." -Edgar Allan Poe

Something Wicked This Way Comes...

First things first, I must apologize for my extended absence in the blog world. It has been a rather craptastic few weeks for me, and I have only just now been able to wrap my brain around anything creative again. That being said, I have had some time to come up with quite a few future posts, so please keep checking back and I pinkie swear I won't go missing again.

Since we last spoke, it has officially morphed into Halloween season. Forget that it is still hovering around 100 degrees in Los Angeles. No bother. At this point, nothing can quell my Halloween itch. I have even decided to throw a little Halloween soirée this year for a few of my favorite Angelenos...and this means major decorating. Major. Like the kind where you have to hide all your normal decor pieces to accommodate the onslaught of all things gothic or ghoulish. The kind where I seriously consider spray painting pieces of my furniture matte black so it better compliments my creepy tableau. Because really, I have come to realize that somewhere deep inside of me, there is a goth chick just dying to get out. I'm a little past the dying my hair purple stage, so at this point, her only method of escape is through decor....and black nail polish, which is so bourgeois at this point it doesn't really count.

So I ventured to the Valley and found my fantasyland of all things frightful, aka Michael's Craft store. Halloween season is the ONLY time I ever venture into Michael's. To say I'm not a supremely crafty person would be a gross understatement. Craft projects make me break out in hives....I just can't. I don't do DIY. I much prefer to have someone else, hopefully a professional, do it for me. There's always too many steps, and too many torture device looking tools needed. The instructions are maddeningly vague. For some reason, the concept of a glue gun makes me very nervous. Martha Stewart I am not.

I went with my party theme in mind. Party Rule #1: Always have a theme. This year, mine is "Murder at Marie Antoinette's Court." It started out as "Hauntingly Hitchcock," but ultimately, the need to keeps things strictly cinematic felt too constraining. Other top contenders were, "Parisian Pied-à-Terror" and "A Nightmare in New Orleans." I know. Lunacy.

I did, however, keep my Hitchcockian costume intact. Yes, I decided to save my headless Marie number for another year to avert a possible overkill situation. Instead, my inspiration came in the form of the lovely "Melanie Daniels"...


Just picture more birds and a lot more blood on that snowy white dress...

Anyway, I digress. I found nothing. NOTHING. What I did find was a plethora of goofy pumpkins and light-up haunted houses that groan and growl and cutesy plastic signs and fake rats (not so funny when you've had the real thing). I became utterly perplexed at the concept of candy molding (How do they get all the colors to go to the right places when you just pour the melted candy into the molds? No, really. HOW?) Three peanut butter pumpkins, 2 packs of ghost shaped Peeps and a caramel apple lollipop later, and I was still at a loss. I took to the internet and didn't even find much inspiration there...


This is cute but needs to a gothic touch...


Love this look but what are the odds my cookies would actually resemble these? Slim to none...

Next stop: Necromance on Melrose. Screw the schmaltzy made for Halloween stuff. I'm headed to the true dark side now. This party is definitely a work in progress. I'll keep you posted...

It's Been That Kind of Week...

I am having a pretty bad week, with family illness, a sinus infection, computer problems and a few other issues i I can't really recall right now, nor do I really want to. Still, when I happened across this picture in the latest Pottery Barn catalogue, it made me happy. So happy, in fact, that I cut it out and taped it above my desk so I could keep looking at it. I adore Halloween in a way that cannot really be put into words. I just can't articulate it verbally. I walk into Michael's or Target and at the first sight of a plug in pumpkin or haunted house candleholder, I often squeal. Audibly. August 1st used to be my official start to the Halloween season. Yes, I said August. Now, my older and more mature (and let's face it, less tacky and more design conscious) self has reset the official start of the season to September 1st. And start is most certainly has....

I'm having visions of haunted houses, corn mazes, spiced apple cider, scary movies on crisp autumn nights, a nighttime stroll through a deserted Greystone Mansion and a headless Marie Antoinette costume that I am determined to pull off this year....

I Heart Los Angeles

"The dream was always running ahead of me. To catch up, to live for a moment in unison with it, that was the miracle."-Anaïs Nin

Get well soon...

Photo by Andreas Gursky

Sugar and Spice...

This is one of the loveliest, most creative ways I have ever seen soon-to-be parents reveal their new baby's name...I cannot stop watching it. Oh, and I love Everly Veda...so charming and original and I adore the nicknames Evie or Ever.

I've never been a big fan of revealing baby names before the little one's grand entrance for two reasons. The first is, well, it's a bit anti-climactic when you know the gender and the name beforehand. The other, and clearly more relevant reason, is that people tend to have strong opinions regarding baby names and often feel the need to share them freely and openly with the parents.

Who am I kidding? I'm probably the worst with the internal monologues concerning other people's baby name choices, I just don't verbalize my musings. I have had a thing for names since I was a kid and even recently found my diary from when I was eight that had my future childrens names proudly penned in glittery red ink (Girls: Alyssa, Brittany and Hannah/ Boys: Isaiah and Logan, which I no doubt snagged from Mary Anne's boyfriend in "The Babysitters Club") Um, no. And what planet was I on that I thought I would have FIVE children???? Oh, the naivety of the young...

Video from Cup of Jo via here...

Shutting it Down

I am head over heels obsessed with "The Rachel Zoe Project," and Season Deux has FINALLY started on Bravo. The formerly contentious duo of Taylor and Brad are back, along with a few more assistants and "interns," which is a Hollywood code word for overworked, often verbally abused human punching bags that do way more than anyone else and do it for free. Can you tell I did this illustrious line of work? Not bitter or anything...

The first episode picks up as the team is preparing for the Golden Globes Awards last January. Like last season, the drama that ensues stems from Taylor's attitude and the whole team's lack of any semblance of organization. What I love most about the show is how spot on it is as to how the styling system works in Hollywood.

I worked as an assistant to an actress for three and a half years, and my absolute favorite and most memorable moments revolved around trips to her stylist (who shall remain nameless, mainly out of fear for my life). This stylist was the batshit craziest broad I have ever encountered, hands down. The studio was always complete anarchy, and if someone wasn't currently being screamed at for something, just give it 30 seconds. It was a total clusterfuck (totally my favorite word ever) of designer clothes, shoes, oddly shaped undergarments, assistants, untrained dogs, dog shit, seamstresses cussing in spanish, phones ringing, cell phones buzzing, delivery guys banging on the gate to get in, insecure actresses in various states of undress.....I could go on. Total sensory overload. I would cower in the corner and pray no one noticed me. Despite that, it's a world unlike any other, and if you grew up watching red carpets on television religiously like I did, it's pretty cool to see how it all comes together.

Come to think of it, I kind of miss that world sometimes. So frivolous and fluffy and completely irrelevant to most people's realities. Glamorous and utterly decadent, which is exactly what I love about fashion and design. Definitely not for the masses. Oh, and the pink reconstructed Chanel that Cameron Diaz ended up wearing to the Globes? Completely bananas. I die.

You can catch all the craziness every Monday on Bravo at 10 ET/7PT.

*Photo Credit: Bravo*

A Few of My Favorite Things...

Here are a few pictures of my current space, a rental in Los Angeles that we've lived in for 4 years. I am itching to redecorate. Like, dying. But I know I can't. Hopefully we'll be able to buy a home at some point in the near future and then, watch out. The thought of being able to knock down a wall if I so desire sends chills of excitement down my spine.



I love Old Hollywood and collect photos and many, many coffee table books pertaining to the subject....



The earth tone theme kind of evolved from my love of fall and Halloween. Five years later though, I'm completely over it. In my next house, I'll lose the brown and orange and mix my signature black and white with more jewel tones. Oh, and the bathroom above is mine and mine alone. Number 1 key to a happy marriage? Separate bathrooms. And closets. My husband likes to create a homemade slip and slide on his floor every time he showers. People think I'm joking when I say that if and when I can design a bathroom for him, it will be floor to ceiling tile with a drain on the floor so I can just hose it down daily. Kidding? I think not.



My beloved matchbook collection serves as a physical record of where we've been and is among my most prized possessions.

Coming Soon: NINE

So fall is nearly here, and with it comes the relevant film season for those with tastes not matching that of a 12-year-old boy. Seriously, if I see one more G.I. Joe trailer with Kid Rock's "American Badass" in the background, I might scream. So I thought I would post a little teaser to my most eagerly anticipated fall release, Rob Marshall's Nine.

The cast includes a few of my favorites, including my current girl-crush Marion Cotillard and the lovely Penelope Cruz. It also happens to star half of my ultimate celeb fantasy exacta, Daniel Day Lewis (in case you were wondering, the other half is Johnny Depp, who, in my opinion, should be required to wear a 3 piece suit at all times à la Public Enemies.)

Daniel does it for me in a big way. Even as Bill the Butcher. No joke.

Based on Federico Fellini's 1963 stunner 8 1/2, the story revolves around an Italian film director searching for inspiration for his latest project amid the chaos that is his love life. The orginal is simply spectacular in every way....

Nine opens on November 25th.

*I apologize for the rather disturbing Fergie screen cap above....I tried everything I could but I couldn't change it. Since we're on the topic....Fergie? Really? I don't mean to be a snob here but we have Marion, Penelope, Daniel, Nicole Kidman, Judi Dench, Kate Hudson, SOPHIA LOREN and.....Fergie? Something just doesn't seem to fit.*

{Fantasies of Fall...}

Dear Fashion Fairy Godmother....

Yes, it's almost "that" season again. Autumn, or as I like to call it, the Season of Spending. It's the time of year where I routinely consider freezing my credit cards in blocks of ice. Seriously. I rationalize that fall is a "new beginning" due to years of back to school shopping and even though I am many (many) years out from having to go back to school, is still somehow feels like a new beginning. So I shop. Every year. Like a madwoman.

This year, however, is different. Taking the bad economy into consideration, I have set my sights on the one perfect piece that I must have, and it has come in the form of a black and white (of course!), high necked, slightly victorian gothic frock from none other than the previously swooned over darling of darkness herself, Anna Sui. Never mind that it's $600. I call it a physical manifestation of my own personal style, which equals priceless in my book.



Oh, and adding the little black blazer and boots (um, normal under the knee boots please. I have no delusions of grandeur about my abilities to pull off thigh highs...)? Perfection. It's like she jumped into my head and pulled out my fantasy ensemble. While we're on it, the medium black Balenciaga motorcycle bag would be a beyond fabulous addition to this outfit...just saying. Ok ok, one wish at a time.

So yes, my Fashion Fairy Godmother, should you grant me this wish, I will promise to break my bad fall shopping habits, which include (but are certainly not limited to) the following...

1. I promise to not make shameful impulse buys at Anthropologie and then follow it with even more shameful "guilt returns" once the credit card bill comes. I now recognize that drooling over a catalog which happens to promote a lifestyle that only seems to exist for glamorous European socialites is wrong, and buying the clothing featured in these catalogs will NOT make me feel like Charlotte Casiraghi or Camilla Al Fayed sauntering into the Hotel Costes in Paris for afternoon tea. I've seen the harsh reality of that fantasy, and I am 86 Euro poorer because of it.

2. Similarly, I will not become entranced by the pretty, vintage-looking barware and entertaining accoutrement that Anthropologie peddles in their rather enchanting tablescapes. A few days ago, while in the store, I came across a set-up that looked like it was meant for a romantic brunch in the woods, complete with an antique chandelier hanging from a faux "branch," silver-leafed egg cups, glorious green velvet napkins, delicately engraved champagne flutes and utensils that looked like little trees. I stared for 5 minutes, circling the table like a shark as I debated what to buy for my own future fantasy party in the woods. I even came up with a fantasy outfit for the occasion: grey cashmere sweater, perfect-fitting dark skinny jeans (I also happen to have Giselle's legs in said fantasy) and my black Hunter Wellies that I got for Christmas last year and have yet to wear because, really, who knew it never actually rained in Southern California?
Unfortunately, I am then shaken from my reverie by my husband, who is alarmed by my constant circling and far-off gaze. I blabber on about my rustic dining fantasy and show him the fabulous egg cups. He looks at me, somewhat annoyed, and goes, "Um, where is the television going to go? You know a meal isn't complete without a sitcom or Sportcenter playing in the background." (No joke). Back to reality. I put the egg cup down, turned to walk out of the store and thought, maybe in my next life...

3. I also vow to stop buying clothes at Forever 21 just because they are cheap. I have to say, trying to squeeze your adult breasts into something meant for flat-chested teenagers while the 12-year-old in the room next to you is squealing at her mom to get her a double zero just isn't worth it.

4. I will avoid home stores at all costs because it never ends well. Ever. Ditto for Barneys and Book Soup. Avoid....

5. I will not justify buying something on credit with the thought that I can pay it off in ____ number of months. In my lust-filtered reasoning, I always forget about a little thing called interest. I am pretty sure the APR on my American Express is about 21 percent right now...

5. Last but not least, I promise not to buy every Halloween tchotchke and pumpkin scented candle I come across in August just because I am tired of summer and need a change. Decorating for any holiday three months early is not normal and certainly not cute.

Oh yes, and we'll talk more about that Balenciaga bag next time...


xo-Stephanie

The "Divine Design" Dilemma

First things first, I love Candice Olsen. LOVE her. I also love her show, "Divine Design," and will stop everything I'm doing and watch captivated every single time I stumble across it. She's really a more accessible version of Kelly Wearstler, still glamorous and dramatic, but you feel like you can actually sit down in her rooms and put your feet up, something I find sorely lacking in Ms. Wearstler's design proclivities.

I would say 90 percent of the episodes have turned out amazing. Still, I often wonder what goes on behind the scenes in the conceptualizing period for each room? How much input does the homeowner get as to what the final product will eventually look like? On the show, you always see the homeowner describe how they want to use the space and almost ALWAYS, they say they want something "clean and modern." Now, "clean and modern" can mean many things to many people. To one person, it's a white box with few embellishments. To another, it might be a traditional style with clean lined furniture lots of symmetry. To me, I think of "clean and modern" as dark wood, lacquered surfaces and a Hollywood Regency style.

So that got me thinking, if I had to tell Candice 5 things I really didn't like in design, what would I say? Trust me, there is NO WAY I would give anyone, not even Candice, carte blanche to overhaul a room in my house. I am WAY too much of a control freak for that!

My Top 5 Design No-Nos...

1. THE COLOR BLUE- Now I know I'm going to get a lot of cut-eyes for this one, so I'm putting it first to get it out of way. I really, really detest the color blue. It's completely irrational, and I have no other reason for my intense dislike of this color other than it totally depresses me. Oh, and there is a particular shade of cornflower/powder blue that I still see around occasionally that takes me straight back to 1987, and I'd really prefer to forget the way my hair looked in 1987. Trust. I don't even wear blue clothing for the most part, especially navy, which I refer to as "the poor man's black." My only exception to this rule would be a certain kind of turquoise, on a certain kind of day, perhaps in the dead of winter back in Ohio or Massachusetts when it would seem light and springlike...other than that, keep it away.

2. NO FARMHOUSE "CHIC"- Maybe it's because I am a city girl at heart and never, not even once, fancied the idea of a more provincial lifestyle, but I simply don't understand this whole farmhouse aesthetic. It's the ceramic rooster thing that bothers me the most. I lived next door to a god-forsaken rooster that woke me at precisely 4 am every day for 6 years (the neighbors were crazy suburbanites who did in fact harbor a country-living fantasy). Needless to say, I don't need a ceramic reminder of that bastard in my kitchen every day. That goes for ceramic chickens as well. We've already established my issues with chickens.
To that end, I would even go as far as banning farmhouse sinks (too clunky and who really needs a bathtub-sized kitchen sink?) and red and white checked anything, but especially tablecloths. Oh, and don't even get me started with the cows....

3. NO LIGHT WOOD- Again, I have no logical explanation for my dislike of light-colored wood. It's just unsettling to me for some reason. I have been to lots of houses with light wood that I like, but I can't handle it in my own house. I once had a wooden stool in college that was handed down to me from someone I can't recall (and who hopefully doesn't read this blog) that was a honey-colored oak. One weekend, three bottles of "Wet n Wild" black nail polish and a sharpie later and that baby was transformed. Of course, nobody could sit on it because the black would rub off on their pants but whatever, it least it looked cute!

4. NO BEACH VIBE-Please do not assume that just because I live a few miles from an ocean that I would like to be reminded of that fact every time I walk in my house. I go to a lot of open houses in Los Angeles, mainly to see how other people decorate their spaces. I have seen more weathered, wooden "Beach" arrows, green seaglass and modern takes on seashell lamps than I care to recall around these parts. I love being at the beach, but I have no fantasy of living on one. Also, that pesky color blue tends to creep into most beach-inspired spaces...

5. NO MINIMALIST CHIC What can I say, I like to be surrounded by my "stuff." I collect lot of things...matchbooks, coffee table books, black and white photography, little buddhas, Fornasetti plates....I like to see them. A white box just doesn't do it for me.


*DISCLAIMER* The ideas expressed above are my own, often misguided, opinions. I am articulating them with the hope that anyone reading this can recognize that I really have no idea what I am talking about, am not a professional, and therefore you should not take offense if you employ any of the previously stated design styles/colors. I might very well love these styles in your house. I just don't love them in mine. The End.


*Stay tuned for things I would actually like to see in my fantasy "Divine Design" room...

Anna in Wonderland

I was anxiously awaiting the September issue of Elle Decor for two reasons. The first is because, well, it's really the only one left standing among the rubble of the great design magazines. (R.I.P Domino, House and Garden, InStyle Home, Vogue Living....) Second, it's the Fashion+Stylemaker Issue. Fashion and stylemaker are two words that, when used on the cover of a home design mag, are music to my glamour-starved ears. It never disappoints...

This year, the standout was one of my favorite stylemakers, the awesome and always eccentric Anna Sui. My favorite dress of all time is a black lace "Anna Sui for Anthropologie" number with a cute little ruffle at the bottom. I have worn it for years and it makes me feel better about myself than anything else in my closet.

In any case, it's no surprise that her interior design aesthetic is nothing short of spectacular. She takes risks, she likes black+white and she's not afraid to be a little different. A woman after my own heart...


Can we just ruminate for a second on the perfection that is this tiny kitchen? I almost didn't post this picture because if I ever actually own a home and can design my own kitchen, I might steal an element or two from this one. Love the black+white (obviously!), love the quirky, Regency-style cabinets mixed with the clean lines of the subway tiles. Oh, and the swirly backsplash....love! (I might need to pull out my trusty Thesaurus to find an appropriate synonym for "love." I am getting as tired of typing it as you probably are of hearing it!)


Lately, I have become pretty obsessed with wallpaper in bathrooms. The one above is similar to one of my favorites, Walnut Wallpaper's Malabar. Also, the tile floor is heavenly and reminds me of the ladies restroom in one of my favorite L.A. haunts, The Alcove. Yes, I have been known to head in there from time to time just to look at it and wish I had something like it in my own house....I'm rather odd, I know.


Last but certainly not least, the "Alice in Wonderland meets Modern-Day Marie Antoinette" closet. What little girl wouldn't want to play dress up in here? My ultimate design fantasy is to have an entire room as a closet. A glamorous personal space with real furniture, wallpaper, etc. Maybe even a chair and ottoman and a little writing desk for a vanity or my computer....ahhh fantasies.

P.S. After some thought, I now realize I was wrong about Elle Decor being the last of the worthy design magazines. There is the aforementioned California Home+Design and the always delightful Angeleno Interiors to consider. I stand corrected.

*All images from Elle Decor*

California Home + Design Magazine

California Home + Design Magazine has slowly but surely become my new Domino (the silencing of which I still mourn daily). They almost always get it right. Based in San Fran, this mag is chock full of great ideas on how to stir a little bit of modernity into the Victorian dwellings that rule up there. I adore the warmth, color and texture of this space that is so expertly infused with clean lines and modern touches. So chic! Truly a masterpiece and one of my favorite houses I have ever seen in a magazine...

Look Inside >> CHD Mag - March/April 2009

Click on the link to see the rest of the house...

Where Do I Sign Up?

I can hardly wait to see what my lovelies look like in their victorian inspired finest....custom pet portraits at Hot Digital Dog. Amazing.

Gwyneth "The Everywoman" Cooks Chicken

For the record, I DO NOT pay money to subscribe to GOOP. For those not in the know, GOOP is Gwyneth's weekly newsletter in which she gives advice about everything from mothering her oddly monikered children to the restaurants she frequents in cities around the world to the playlists on her ipod. It is largely an attempt to shake her ice princess, name-dropper, "I'm so much better than you" image she has cultivated so well over the years.

Let's just get this straight. Gwyneth is NOT an "Everywoman." From the Hollywood royalty she comes from to the films she chooses (let's just forget Iron Man, shall we..), Gwyneth is an elitist bitch. And I love her for that. Or used to at least. Until she tried to convince me she's just like me.

I say if you can be an elitist bitch and truly own it, then by all means, go for it. And if you can call Steven Spielberg "Uncle Morty" to his face and almost marry Brad Pitt, you are not like me. So stop trying to be. I liked you when you were elusive and snooty and looked down your nose at me from atop your Balenciaga heels as you stole my table at Balthazar only to consume nothing but champagne and a green salad sans dressing.

That being said, I might just make the roast chicken she is peddling as her completely elitist (Love!) version of "fast food" in her latest video blog on GOOP. And l have some serious issues with chicken. Our rocky relationship began with a serious bout of food poisoning when I was 12 and hasn't really improved much since that fateful night. The level of anxiety I experience while attempting to cook chicken is legendary among those who know me well. By the time it hits the table, if it ever actually makes it there, the poor bird has been subjected to no less than 3 temperature readings (from 3 different thermometers mind you) and a "flashlight test" to check for pinkness. Even if it passes all these tests, I still let my husband eat it the first night and if he doesn't get sick, I might eat a little the next day. It's bizarre, I know. I should definitely seek therapy.



But Gwyneth seems like such a nonchalant "chef". She is ever so calm about touching the chicken, and then touching other things without bleaching her hands clean first like I tend to. And when it comes out of the oven, it goes straight to the plate without a thermometer in sight. Such confidence! And it does look really good.....

So I guess I can forgive her just this once for effectively Goop-ing me. Now if only I could stop her from saying "tater" in that weird voice about midway through....

Coco Avant Chanel

I have been anxiously awaiting the American distribution of this film for what feels like forever, and finally it appears the time has come. I adore Coco Chanel, would say she is my ultimate style icon, and think there is no one better suited to portray her than the lovely, ethereal Audrey Tautou.

In my opinion, the only way to see a film like this is with a good girlfriend after dinner at a charming French bistro (my favorites are La Poubelle and The Little Next Door, both in Los Angeles) and a few French 75 cocktails (not too many though...you do have to stay coherent enough to read the subtitles :)).

Julius Shulman Continued

Frey Residence, Palm Springs, 1953, Albert Frey, Architect

Case Study House #22

Portfolio #11, Freeman House, Los Angeles, Frank Lloyd Wright, Architect

Julius Shulman: A California Icon

Case Study House #22, 1960, Los Angeles, Pierre Konig, Architect

I struggled  for longer than I care to admit about creating an appropriate first post in this blog. I felt inundating a reader with my general design sensibilities seemed too forward for a first go, but then a random recount of what inspired me from this month's Elle Decor seemed both abstract and generic as well. It struck me while reading the brilliant architectural photographer Julius Shulman's obituary in the LA Times last week that he would be the perfect subject to highlight as the first of many posts in my new attempt at self-expression.  

I  became aware of Shulman's work at the age of 12 on a perfect sunny day during my very first trip to Los Angeles. While the extreme significance of that trip in my life is best left for a later post(s), I would be remiss to say I wasn't captivated, or possibly spellbound might be a better adjective, with the City of Angels. It was during this trip that I saw  Shulman's most infamous photograph, "Case Study # 22.", pictured above. In my mind, this photo quintessentially defines the romanticism of Los Angeles in it's most golden age, the middle of the twentieth century. 

It was an image so evocative that it made me decide one day, without question, I would move to Los Angeles. I wanted to be that girl perched high above the blanket of big city lights below. And now, all these years later, to some extent, I am some version of that girl. 

Shulman came to define in his iconic photos of mid-century architecture what would later be coined "California Modernism."  His work made architects like Richard Neutra, Charles Eames, John Lautner and Pierre Konig household names. The depth of his photos would also illustrate what makes Los Angeles and California in general unlike any other place in the world. 

Shulman died last week in Los Angeles at the age of 98. To learn more about his life and career, check out Taschen's amazing book Julius Shulman, Modernism Rediscovered.