what's in your wand?
come on. spill it. you know you want to.
tell me how you weave your magic. and don't say you lack the beans to bewitch.
we all have them.
some are just deeply creviced, cardiganed behind a lifestyle of bland tasting humble pie.
show me your stuff.
do you glitter and glue? paint pictures so pretty girls grab their chests?
can you muse each and all into a runway silhouette with your fashion finesse?
do giggles and whoop trail your funny bone every where you trek?
does your sweet sounding soprano have the songbirds weeping with envy, as you lullaby the babes to sleep?
are you a guardian?
do you tend and soothe? balming broken hearts or scabbed knees?
can you wax rhapsodic with the shake of your hips?
do you write the words that make the whole world sing?
or do you writhe your sorcery into soufflés and sticky rice?
can you bring the beauty out of already the most beautiful?
maybe you don't yank rabbits from black top-hats or time travel into centuries passed.
but your powers are marvelous and impacting.
find yours, you have more than two...i know, and celebrate them madly.
the planet is a thirsty, dried out, dying fern waiting to thrive from a sprinkle of your magic.
if only a kind smile.
even if i haven't seen your face {although lucky for me many of you i have} or shared an afternoon of coffee;
you all, in your silent and not so silent ways, add magic to my life.
thank you m'loves.
nightstand
after a dry spell i'm finally back in lust with the written word.
silly me for straying from those who have proved so loyal to me time and again.
my heart thumps a bit heavier as the pages i've read rival the number of pages i have left to read.
what next?
how do i continue my evening tryst?
according to mrs burns this was amazing.
any other suggestions?
also how are you all doing in your march madness brackets?
i'm hoping for a 'crime and punishment' upset. but the odds are on jay gatsby.
personally, i think he's paying for votes.
you can vote here.
party people
i went to a birthday party this weekend. stag.
hunkiest was out town at party of his own; of a stag nature as well.
yet the naughty these boys seemed to have found was of whiskey and lack of bug spray like.
for all his clinker and glee as he packs up his shiny 9 iron and polished 3 wood, that boy never fails to ring home, like a kid sick at camp, wishing to be picked up early.
he asks me what the beasts are doing, as if by some miracle they've suddenly acquired a new, people, {opposable thumb requiring} skill since he left town.
um, they're doing math homework??!? they're sleeping of course!! that's what our beasts DO baby.
we count the days, sometimes hours until he walks back through the door to his "family".
silly, but it's the kind of thing that still has me plan outfits days before i see him.....my brain's always working on our next date.
although hunky and i do enjoy each other's smile, chat and smooch, one of our strongest suits is our ability to hang separately.
at my party, the beautiful birthday girl wore a sash of pink and a tiara of tinsel;
i walked in knowing few and left loving many.
i wrapped my heart around a freckled girl with amber hair, who sat for hours with a strawberry taking each and every single seed off the pretty fruit; just because it felt scientific. she was sweeter than any candy colored cupcakes we ate together.
i ate a cobbler baked with berries and i felt a baby boy, who although won't officially be here until june, make his party presence felt in his momma's stomach.
a grand time had by moi'...and i couldn't wait to ring up my beloved and share.
spring rain
not exactly the get up i was donning in yesterday's torrential, power-outing, tree-uprooting, car washing {graçias}, patio furniture tossing {non-graçias} spring storm. but i do love a nice deluge.
and such a grand shower! ushering in spring, my favorite season.
buds, both in flower and human form, are ripe to bloom after a cold, tear-stricken winter. i thought to myself as the rain rattled the windows, nature is ensuring an extra pretty bloom, one last heavy douse of drink to give our branches and petals steadfast length and technicolor hue.
as a young girl, whenever i found myself with pocket of money: check from grandma or an easter egg from dad, instead of spending it down at the liquor store on powdery fun-dip or on the requisite green tongue inducing apple jolly ranchers, i'd make my way over to crabtree & evelyn for a bottle of spring rain bubble bath and shampoo.
i was obsessed with the fragrance: tea rose, lily of the valley and peony heavy. spring rain is one whiff into a jane austen countryside of bonnets and flirtatious romp. although, at 9 years old, i was more ramona and beezus rather than marianne and elinor, i understood the ability to transport and detach.
fantasy. make-believe. checking out.
spring rain let me escape to butterfly fields and family meals not eaten at a counter for 1. there was a lot going on in my house that required fantasy.
every so often i'll stumble in to a crabtree & evelyn store to smell spring rain and summer hill {what i'd move onto in june}. the scent doesn't appeal to me now so much. a little too strong, with too many chemicals. but i always sample the lotion. it reminds the candy store is open for business.
life is good. even the stuff that leaves a mark. i'm living my fantasy now.
overserved
i think truman enjoyed his st. patrick's day a little too much.
weekend happy to you m'loves.
making you a star
the last two days have been a lesson in holding my tongue; actually more like hoover damming it.
i've been on set finishing up a webseries, filming scenes poolside.
luckily for me and my cheese plate fetish, my character is of professional dress: conservative suit.
my good fortune seemed to have run its course at costume though. my three lines of dialogue yielded 8 hours of green room down time with scantily clad, bikini-girl extras.
compensated in industry exposure {no pun intended}, free food, mindless time in the sun and the occasional makeout session with greasy actor, these girls candied up the melrose place courtyard like willy wonka's factory after charlie went home.
fresh-faced and eager to please, they swapped spit with the crew and swapped stories with each other that had me begging the prop master for real bullets to use in the gun...on myself of course.
on hour two, miss tennessee charmed us with her knowledge of nasal piercings and husband stealing. i now know that one can get yeast infections in one's nose if nasal stud is not properly cleansed. miss tennessee also revealed the wonderful world of bear meat cuisine. i'm menu planning my next dinner party as i type.
a charmer with a chrysanthemum tattooed on her nipple, no not a daisy you stupid bitch a chrysanthemum, is looking for a classy place to "git" a serving job...she "reckons bubba gumps or ruby tuesdays" as her contenders. forgive my snark, but this is the same girl who snottily snapped at me she doesn't smoke, but occasionally "dips".
these are the g-rated version of the days' conversation. i wish i could go into the q and a of what the girls would do and not do {there wasn't much and i had to use google for some of it} for playboy, but by then i was calling hospitals looking for where i could get the nearest penicillin shot and finding out if i could get airlifted out as well.
one of the crew teased me for not chatting it up with the extras.
but tell me what exactly could i add to the sob-fest of what happens when you turn 25 when "yer shit gets really fucking old"?
they talked triple d implants, accepting trips with directors if it meant getting parts in tv shows, and whether taking golden seal will clear up a drug test.
these are the same conversations from 10 years ago when i started this business.
different girls. same stories.
gotta love the hollywood dream.
more fall fashion
as promised here are some more of mary jo matsumoto's stunning pieces from her 2011 fall line.
yes, that is me who got to place dress up in the pretty frocks.
fall fashion favorites
l.a. fashion week has officially started.
i am beyond honored to be a part of mary jo matsumoto's fall collection.
here are just a few shots of her amazing line.
more to follow tomorrow.
leopard ruffled shirt dress in silk charmeuse
gray/pink reversible wool cape + bowling bag
pink reversible wool cape + south sea starfish earrings.
gray wool jacket + pants + pink charmeuse top + doctor's bag
all will be available to purchase on mary jo's website www.maryjomatsumoto.com very soon.
i must say as beautiful as these look in pictures; to wear them and see them ON is to truly appreciate their allure.
i'm not exaggerating; EVERY single piece i put on i fell in love with.
monday happy....truly.
yesterday morning, while turning the pages of my sunday times,
yes, i still read my paper in paper form: black inked finger tips, loud rustling pages flapping in the porch wind,
occasionally catching fire from my fresh cut grass scented table-top candle, causing mass hysteria among the beasts and
just making me look plain silly as i hop up and down in my 1994 grey (once green) bathrobe in front of the passing
neighbors attempting to snuff out flying, fiery news embers.
but back to my reading. as i followed the front page story of japan's anguish onto pages 7 and 8
my attention kept diverting to the giant ads sandwiching the heartache.
i tried to read about chiyako ito's tearjerking story of her barn collapsing, flattening all her tractors and
cars, blocking any way to get food, water or any other aid.
yet, through those tears, bloomingdales kept dazzling me to the right and left with the of power of spring colorblocking.
apparently, an absolute must!!!
so there it is. bloomingdales solves the dilemma.
just what ms. ito needs. get her a nice little jil sander get up, and she's good to go.
food and water be damned.
albeit ridiculous, this dichotomy was exactly the laugh i'd been waiting for.
it lifted me up, a bit, from the heaviness i'd been feeling all weekend.
later on i was watching the documentary joan rivers: a piece of work,
{a great movie if you're on the fence about becoming an actor.....YOU WON'T after watching}
whether you find her funny or not she makes a good point: we need to find the humor.
she says when terrible, horrific things happen like 9/11, humor helps us get through the sadness.
it's true, when i think back to some of my bluest moments i can also remember some sick fits of laughter.
so i'm not only sending japan condolences and thoughts of love & support,
i'm also hoping they're able to find their smiles and good humor...maybe not today or tomorrow, but soon.
monday happy to you m'loves.
march
true to form, monsieur march came in like a lion;
surly and base, big paws swiping madly in the air.
agile as a cat, i luckily avoided any pops or scrapes to the face and bod.
silly little lions can't knock me down;
i'm always ready for a nice tangle and scrap.
scratch that. not true. pants on fire.
i HATE confrontation.
i'm quite the chicken.
cluck. cluck.
i'd rather hold my tongue than rumble.
my legs have a nice cozy spot for my tail.
but with all the bumps and barnacles i must share what else march has tendered:
homemade key lime pie.
mumford and son's tickets.
this year's first bloom of my jasmine plant.
a friday evening of french cuisine and friends.
new screen doors throughout the house.
a family dinner.
new bedroom furniture.
my dad's birthday.
my mom's beautiful smile.
spin and pilates students giving me goosebumps with their dedication.
blog posts making me cry, scream with laughter, and happy dance {sometimes all at once}.
my beasts discovering the art of spooning.
plum blossom bath soap.
pink nails.
hunkiest.
and finally the privilege of talking to you m'loves.
thursday happy to you!
do it for love
i just love these videos from the panic room.
do you do what you love loves?
i sure hope so.
[vimeo http://vimeo.com/16390850 w =600&h=400]
[vimeo http://vimeo.com/16840214 w=600&h=400]
[vimeo http://vimeo.com/17521516 w=600&h=400]
if you're not skipping down the path of happy, what is it that's holding you back?
flying the coop...
headless chicken kind of day m'loves.
tunnel. light. end.
here i come.
no time to chat...hopefully tomorrow {please say yes}.
with my eye on spring {i see you m'lady} here are some tuesday fancies.
tuesday happy.
rainbow hunter
a wet morning welcome can't dampen my weekend parade.
boots strapped, i stomp myself silly into monday's rote routine of have to.
long-legged lilies, cart wheeling out of their vase, do their part to help bewitch the smile out of me.
memories of stolen kisses at a tabletop for two suddenly turn these rain showers into a romantic jean luc goddard film.
i have to be on guard.
winter storms do their best to charm my inner recluse to further hide, shelter, and shut.
lately i've come down with a case of covers up, doors closed, phones and computers in trash turned off.
but mr. drippy window pane here,
you blurry the dark, thundering clouds into a jewely, kaleidoscope wild.
stepping outside seems not so scary.
so, off i go.
eyes fixed forward.
task at hand:
there are rainbows to hunt.
weekend happy
just a little closer please.
one more step.
weekend what took you so long?
forgive me if i grip a bit tighter than typical.
this girl may get a little greedy with your time.
hope you don't mind.
weekend happy to you m'loves
tickling my toes
just a few things making me silly happy.
buds refusing to bow down to the bully of frost and freeze;
defiantly, flamboyantly blooming big bowfuls of petal for our cold winter favor.
birthday cakes are on the brain.
i'm completely heart sweet on this sugary vanilla, heavy on the frosting {save me the rose please} happy pastry.
tis so hard for me to remain completely grown-up diving into a slice of said prettied delight; my legs often pop into a spontaneous, uncontrollable happy dance underneath the dining room table.
how 'bout we all pop over to jamie's for a slice? childish dance party optional.
she's another, that jamie girl, who can make me giddy glee.
also getting my goose greased gay are my tim mcgraw worthy clodhoppers.
thudding me up and down the town, always paired with the frilliest skirts and dresses my closet can proffer.
let's not forget my daily date{s} with bathtub.
today my window to a better, brighter, kinder world has a little less streaking.
a new path paved with possiblity....and pink {big smile} is always available for me to walk about.
i know this to be truer than the bluest of true.
an afternoon, or {gasp} even more scandalous, a morning tryst with mr sandman may not just be a pipe dream one of these days.
a reignited my romance with my kitchen.
after 12 days with the flu the thought of anyone else handling my food made an already fussy stomach even more flustered and overwrought.
i'm actually tasting food in its perfect form again; not covered up in sugar, salt and other additives.
this could get addictive.
date night.
hunkiest and i start planning our next outing while in the midst of our current rendezvous.
so much for living in the moment.
but our time together is so limited, and the word precious even seems flippant.
we're fierce with this allotment.
we look forward to it all week, and still feel like they end oh too early.
[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6e_rGR9ItRY]
this song is currently burning up my ipod.
and you!
you elate me my loves. the emails, comments, those who agree and disagree. those who have nothing to say.
i love you all.
i'm tickled totally.
nonsense
yesterday, using my thumb and index finger, i showed a friend my dwindling tolerance for nonsense; nary a speck of light could shine through a once giant wingspan of permissiveness.
t'was not even 545 am and already a woman's day was ruined because someone else had signed up for her spin bike.
mind you said woman still was able to take class and participate,
but the fact that she wasn't early enough to sign up for her usual bike was a cataclysmic breach so ruinous she felt the need to mire me in her misery-bowl of punch.
when asked about hair and makeup in an interview for into the gloss, lauren santo domingo answered,
I get a blow-out, I get my makeup done—I just can’t be bothered to do it myself.
at 8½ months pregnant, the vogue editor and wife to billionaire andres santo domingo, also said she can't remember the last time she washed her own hair.
and in this day and age when pedophiles are walking away on $100,oo0 bail; a mad man is playing duck hunt on his own people, and bullying is such an epidemic kids liken it to part of their school curriculum;
{all rather vulgar to me}
lauren's idea of vulgarity is a woman with lipstick on her starbuck's cup.
there's an amazing actor killing himself right before the eyes of his family and children.
greedy, grubby news networks are lining up for interviews and ratings; sopping up every last quote and soundbite like he's the last droplet of an alain ducasse bouillon.
people are snarkily making fun as if they have never had a single demon to wrestle in their entire, milky white lives.
this is funny? this is feel good? watching a slow, drawn out, painful death?
maybe cbs, twitter, and facebook can start live-feeding executions for people.
i have eating issues; i have social anxiety.
i have things in my past that bubble up out of nowhere so painful sometimes i can't breathe.
i get a little crazy every day. maybe not out loud. definitely not with a camera crew.
thank god.
because the dominating, hyena jeers would drown out any offers of help or love.
i have two holes in my body.
one on my forearm, one on my shin.
they've been there for a month now. cut out by my very trusted, thorough dermatologist.
she's feels good about my shin.
she's not so sure about my arm.
damn.
i've been sitting with this news for a while, and we're being proactive.
i'm sure everything will be fine.
but i must say, with this new information, while i AM noticing a lot of the wonderful things in this world..
i'm also noticing a whole hell of a lot of nonsense.
girl: it
my style conveys my inability to grow up -alexa chung
a darling of editors and street photographers for years now, british tv personality alexa chung has yet to tire me with her quirky mix of ladylike charm and downtown edge.
never one to follow trends, miss chung blends vintage with designer duds better than most salaried stylists and richie rich, front row socials in the know.
without ever looking silly, alexa bubbles a playful wardrobe that is never inappropriate or even worse.....cute.
she also imbibes a smart, sharp london street element that renders teeth, tart and tongue.
never in get ups or worn by the clothing she's wearing, alexa is also not one to binge on accessories;
she keeps things simple with a small handbag or tiny locket.
citing françoise hardy as her fashion inspiration, alexa manages to look relaxed and effortless {comfortable} in her choices; overt and obvious are not items in her closet.
here's to hoping she never grows up.
glam-ER
i was working last night, thus was able to watch the recorded oscars upon returning home.
i'm still trying to q-tip anne hathaway's shrieking woo's out of my ears.
i've never been so grateful for the tivo fast forward button in my life.
was anyone else hoping billy crystal would stay on stage for the rest of the evening?
thank god for fancy frocks to distract from the disaster.
here are my favorite of the evening:
camila alves in kaufman franco
mila kunis in elie saab
mandy moore in monique lhuiller.
sunrise coigney in jean paul gaultier. {best accessory of the evening: husband mark ruffalo}
michelle williams in chanel.
gwyneth paltrow in calvin klein
and cate. aaaah. my absolute favorite fancy of the party.
it's all over the place this morning with fashionistas as a hit and a miss.
but this lilac, pearl encrusted givenchy is pure perfection in my book.
the only show stopper of the of a {mostly} boring night.
thoughts?
weekend happy
it is only with the heart
that one can see rightly; what is essential
is invisible to the eye.
-antoine de saint-exupéry