jaybird

thanksgiving

2010-11-25T00:56:00.003-05:00

I'm renewing my vows (click) this year on Tumblr (click).
Happy Thanksgiving, and thanks for stopping by. xx

good genes

2010-09-08T11:16:00.010-04:00

Going through these photos for Dossier, I found the one of Mom Mom on the right, and it made me think of my sister, on the left. I'm missing her extra (that kitchen is in Australia) as yesterday was her birthday!

Stay posted on my news of fashion (and, for the moment, family) at Closettour.

x

Os Gemeos: the boys are back in town

2010-08-08T21:45:00.010-04:00

Thanks to Os Gemeos and an 80-foot Genie Boom, I got to fly high above the city on Saturday:

You can find my details about the twins' new painting in Chelsea at Dossier (click), and I'll likely divulge more soon. I had Brazil on the brain at Closettour (click) this weekend too.

love and death on the Q-train

2010-08-03T10:34:00.007-04:00

Romance blooms and a Silly Band snaps on a summer morning in Manhattan.

flown the coop

2010-05-09T11:27:00.005-04:00

...for the time being.I saw this little arrangement in a window in Stockholm, which is where you can find me for the moment. (Click.) Or, as ever, at Closettour. (Click.)

Yours truly,

The Jaybird

spread the love

2010-02-14T20:38:00.000-05:00

Again, Tom Slaughter (click) makes it easy to spread the love, just click, print, cut, give.

In the meantime, I'm spreading the love at Dossier (click) and Closettour (click). Come find me there!

all the world's a stage

2010-01-11T17:23:00.006-05:00

As I reported Saturday morning for Dossier (click), it seems I'm not the only one who finds my subway landing to be somewhat cinematic.

Erin (my friend, neighbor, and editor at Dossier) and I will be keeping our eyes out for the Chanel ad starring our street. In the meantime this sign, left on South 5th, points directly towards home on Hooper.

We'll see what's on the script for 2010...

california christmas

2009-12-26T17:24:00.000-05:00

Thanks to my friend Jeremy Black, a San Clemente-dwelling, convertible-driving, easygoing, natural foods magnate, I have had the ultimate California Christmas.

Here's the view from the deck where I'm writing right now, while the bells from the church down the street play "Lovely Weather for a Sleigh Ride Together."

Here's the sleigh I rode on Christmas eve,

appropriately enough, at a surf break known as Church.

Jeremy and his next-door neighbor Mark point the way.

Santa puts his shirt back on.

Here at Casa Black, açai (click) is the new egg nog,

and hemp buttered whole grain bread is the new French Toast.

I've been getting my butt kicked daily at the yoga studio down the street and waking up my mind, body, and soul with dunks in the chilly Pacific.

It's not going to be easy going back to snowy NYC, but I feel stronger with some Pacific salt and California sun in my veins, and I'll do my best to spread it around.

boas festas

2009-12-25T22:41:00.005-05:00

Boas Festas is Brazil-speak for Happy Holidays, but literally it translates to "good parties," which is what I'm wishing for you, via a scan of a Christmas card I picked up at the flea market in Rio last summer.

It seems especially appropriate this year, since I'm writing from Sambazon's (click) San Clemente headquarters, while the Black brothers, my hosts, prepare to take off for Brazil tomorrow.

I'll happily hold down the fort for another day before I head back to NYC, where the forecast is for...snow. I've got lots of love to keep me warm, so fueled with that, some California sunshine and saltwater, and a boa festa or two, we'll pull through the rest of this winter.

Boas Festas, Happy Holidays, lots of love!

baby, it's cold outside

2009-12-21T00:35:00.014-05:00

I was really looking forward to another Caribbean Christmas (click), but it seems, at the last minute, that it isn't in the cards this year.

For a day or two, I was excited about staying in Brooklyn. I listened to Petula Clark sing "Baby It's Cold Outside" at least 20 times.

I walked around, admiring Christmas lights.

My favorite, a fox in the snow.

I baked peppermint and peanut butter kisses for a party (while listening to Petula Clark.)

I donned a festive and shimmering gold sweater for said parties.

And tromped cheerily through the snow to arrive.

And then, I thought, "Baby, it is cold outside," and briefly considered stowing away on a container ship (click).

I found myself feeling more, "Fox in the Snow" than Petula Clark, and then I thought...don't I have a half a ticket to L.A. leftover from this spring? As it turns out, I do. So I bought the other half, and now this fox is getting out of the snow, headed to San Clemente for a few days in the waves.

good morning

2009-12-17T08:27:00.002-05:00

hallelujah, holy shit

2009-12-15T18:17:00.006-05:00

Well, I'm writing this post by candelight, and not because it's Hannukah.

Just a little while ago, not long after I finished my final re-write (graduation is tomorrow morning), I was doing a little housekeeping. My head was in the hall closet when suddenly everything went bright white and blue, and there was a loud buzzing sound.

It wasn't a Christmas angel descending on Hooper Street, but rather my living room light fixture, spewing sparks and igniting a small flame on the ceiling. An involuntarily yelp leapt from my lungs and I slammed off the light switch and called 911.

Three wisemen (hot firemen) turned up lickety split. The flames had died down by then, so they just knocked down part of the ceiling to make sure there were no embers still burning, and told me to have the super make sure the circuit breaker was off.

I had planned on having a Bloody Mary before graduation in the morning, and I'd say I still will, but it will likely be with Stefan, my stupendous super, while he fixes the wiring. He said he'll come early so I can get to school on time.

If I hadn't been home when this happened it could have been a really bad scene. But I'm just chillin' here in the dark with my corner store candles and a small pile of my ceiling swept up into the trash can. All my school-work is done, dad is on his way in from the airport, and I'm going to get a manicure. All's well that ends well.

what is a quince?

2009-12-12T09:37:00.003-05:00

Every time I think about that man in the audience asking where my sweater came from (click) I can't help thinking of White Men Can't Jump, when Rosie Perez finally gets to bring it with "foods that start with the letter Q."

I still have a couple of rewrites to do before graduation on Wednesday, but you better believe that by Thursday, I'll be celebrating over Quahogs and Quarterdecks.

good night.

2009-12-09T23:50:00.003-05:00

CUNY, Room 308, after it all went down. (click!) I'll explain more later, but for now, I am so happy, and ready to sleep. More details to come...

CLOSETTOUR

2009-12-02T23:43:00.009-05:00

First I was Gathering String (click), then I was trying to solve the Sartorialist's Dilemma (click), but now I've landed on CLOSETTOUR (click).

I know, it's been a bit of an identity crisis, but that's what getting dressed is like sometimes. The blog you see at CLOSETTOUR right now is just the beginning of what I hope the project will grow to be. I'll write more as it develops, but for now, please note that CLOSETTOUR is the new Sartorialist's Dilemma.

"It sounds like an animal. It came from the Planet CLOSETTOUR!" Joe Walker, hyperlocal blogger, The New York Times

I think he meant it sounds like a planet. Come visit me there! (Click.)

thanksgiving

2009-12-02T19:29:00.006-05:00

thank you
thank you
thank you
thank you
thank you

rising tides, ferocious waves

2009-11-30T17:12:00.016-05:00

You might remember that last week (below) I gave you a peek through the door of the Bryant Park Library into my old-school (microfiche!) research via iPhone. The week before that (further below), I was indulging in magazines and martinis, considering what the future of journalism might hold for yours truly. Now, with CUNY's J-school graduation just two weeks away (!), David Carr gave a quick synopsis of what he perceives to be the "Fall and Rise of Media" in today's Media Equation column (click.)

Mr. Black on the ferocious NZ waves, 2008

When I finished it, I exclaimed aloud, "F-yes! Thank god I read that to the end!" It was this bit that got me:

For every kid that I bump into who is wandering the media industry looking for an entrance that closed some time ago, I come across another who is a bundle of ideas, energy and technological mastery. The next wave is not just knocking on doors, but seeking to knock them down.

Somewhere down in the Flatiron, out in Brooklyn, over in Queens or up in Harlem, cabals of bright young things are watching all the disruption with more than an academic interest. Their tiny netbooks and iPhones, which serve as portals to the cloud, contain more informational firepower than entire newsrooms possessed just two decades ago. And they are ginning content from their audiences in the form of social media or finding ways of making ambient information more useful. They are jaded in the way youth requires, but have the confidence that is a gift of their age as well.

For them, New York is not an island sinking, but one that is rising on a fresh, ferocious wave.

One hell of a kicker, right? That's us, knocking down doors with our iPhones (or respectfully photographing them at the Bryant Park Library.) Graduation, here we come. Now back to work.

Pssst!

2009-11-24T22:40:00.012-05:00

Shhh...secret research at the Bryant Park Library, observed by iPhone.

Microfiche!

Literary lions, guarding the gate.

magazines and martinis

2009-11-13T22:18:00.015-05:00

"Drink for reward, not for inspiration."

A New York Times columnist told me that a few years ago, as I was entertaining the thought of quitting my job at Edun to get a graduate degree in journalism. (He was about to speak on a panel; I offered him a drink.)

In any case, tonight I ignored said columnist's advice and drank for both reward and inspiration. It was a long week. As you likely know if you're reading this (since there's a solid chance you're related to me), I'm looking down the barrel of my final weeks of journalism school while interning at one of the bastions of long-form print journalism. Tonight, in the descending elevator at Condé Nast, one editor mentioned he was ready for a martini. Me too, I thought--but I would have mine at home.

I was exhausted, and furthermore, I knew Jeff Jarvis (click), was expecting our notes from CUNY's New Business Models for News conference. They called this forum a Hyper Camp, which I just love because it reminds me of Mike Myer's hyper-hypo, one of the great SNL skits of all time.

In all honesty, I don't think my notes from my short (is there any other kind?) stay at Hyper Camp need to be that extensive, because if you're really that interested, you were probably reading the tweets of everyone that was thumb-dancing on their blackberries around me while I took notes--in my notebook. I'm tempted to just scan them in, as we did my notes from Cynthia Rowley's Spring 2010 show(click), but alas...here's what I thought was interesting from the Hyper Camp (I love it!) meeting about Community Engagement and Marketing--from my notes in my notebook. I'll make bullets, in case anyone's averse to paragraphs.

Mary Ann Giordano (click) said Brian Stelter (click) told her it takes a year for a blogger to build an audience, and that they have to be their own marketers.

Debbie Galant, who founded Baristanet (click) said everyone in her family learned to blow up balloons in the early days of building her business--there's a specific helium proportion she recommends for longevity. You could email her for that. She also talked about the importance of readers' tips, citing the example of Baristanet's reporting a Monday night microburst, which is actually like a small tornado, even though it sounds like a meteorological event invented for Hyper Camp.

Soraya Darabi (click), who manages online social media for The New York Times, told the bloggers on the panel to go where their audiences are (meaning websites they frequent), start a conversation, and if it doesn't catch, move on. Seems like good advice in general, no? (Darabi, btw, looks like she's probably had a fair deal of practice playing hard to get--for someone who specializes in virtual presence, she's rather striking in person.)

David Cohn of spot.us (click) called himself a "relentless self-marketer." Next to that I wrote, that's just hustle. Nothing new there. He also said the transparency of his website's reporting made it appeal to civically minded people, that it takes a year for an audience to respond to you and trust you, and that it doesn't require a budget, it just requires sweat.

Tina Kelley (click), of the Maplewood branch of The New York Times' Local Blog (which lots of CUNY students--click, click, click, contribute to), pointed out the problematic nature of covering contraversy in her own neighborhood. Debbie summed that up nicely, citing the motto of the Lake Wobegon Herald: "We have to live here too."

I might be dealing with a little of that myself.

more fall colors...

2009-11-12T17:28:00.002-05:00

Just cause I'm busy doing research doesn't mean I'm not cruising for babes at the bus stop. Check out my latest style shot at Dossier. (click).

terrific day at dossier, and also in L.A.

2009-11-11T11:49:00.008-05:00

This is why I love Dossier. It's an outrageously gorgeous day at the style site (click), and the front page pointed me to a website called My Parents Were Awesome (click), which inspired me to dig up this photo of my mom, who is still awesome, holding my older sister, who arrived in L.A. today from her home in Australia. (click.)

Welcome back, Sar!

objects in mirror...

2009-11-10T01:11:00.009-05:00

...are closer than they appear!

Guess who's en route for her first visit to the USA!! The Brown babes--my sister and nieces, will stop in L.A. and St. Louis first, but be warned, in a few short weeks Maizie (click) and Bella (click) are about to take over this blog and the tri-state area.

They're never gonna get that kangaroo past customs.

restoration

2009-11-08T22:35:00.014-05:00

There's a new post on the Sartorialist's Dilemma, the remnant of a restorative weekend: click. Come take a meander with me there, and please leave comments (click) behind like little bread crumbs, so I know you stopped by.

Kate said she was so impressed (I think that was her nice way of saying surprised) that I left the suede jacket behind. Restoration, Kate, is all about letting go. And let's be honest, it will probably still be there when I go back next week.

hey mickey

2009-11-05T20:50:00.009-05:00

Just a quick shout-out to Mickey Legg, whose email I only just discovered in my spam box.

photo compliments of Mickey Legg

Mickey was helping his friend Henry celebrate his 13th birthday at the No Age performance I wrote about for Vanity Fair's website (click). I could see over his shoulder that he was taking some sweet photos, and asked if he could send me one or two. And he did, in such a timely manner, but alas, it was lost in the evil spam box.

So, I just wanted to share this shot with you, of No Age playing their live soundtrack beneath a screening of The Bear, and say thank you, Mickey for sending it.

nyc autumn, as seen by iphone

2009-11-05T14:17:00.008-05:00

I got to the Upper West Side a few minutes before my meeting this morning , and got to walk along the edge of the park. Let's go...

dreaming of

2009-11-03T19:28:00.008-05:00

Hi dolls. This is the part of the semester where I sign off from the rest of my life until Thanksgiving.

Not Yet Titled, by Jules de Balincourt, courtesy of Zach Feuer Gallery

But first, I did get to talk with Jules de Balincourt at the preview of a completely awesome exhibit that no contemporary art lover in NYC should miss: click. I've been curious about Monsieur de Balincourt since I saw this epic painting at the Brooklyn Museum. I wrote a bit more for Dossier...(click).

Au revoir for now. I'll be waiting behind the waterfall for the semester to end.

ghosts of halloweens past

2009-10-29T22:21:00.009-04:00

Taking it back to Santa Barbara: Robert Plant and Jimmy Page. There's a plant winding up the legs of my bell bottoms, but that's nowhere near as incredible as Colin's page.

Jono one-upping my Robert Plant in New Zealand, where Gary Anderson's birthday party (click) has usurped Halloween as the country's main occasion for dressing up.

Will the real Karl Lagerfeld please stand up? Not to brag, but I threw this together in a matter of minutes. Was even better when Jesse asked if I was some sort of "Nazi accountant from the future."

Looks like real produce, right?

It's actually Carmen Miranda's headdress. Moose is a taco, and I especially like the stunned bunch of grapes in the background.

I think Mike D. may have actually been working on alternative energy strategies when he wore this one.

Speaking of energy, there's Edward Scissorhands (click) with the Energizer Bunny.

But the best bunny in show goes to Bella Rabbit.

Happy Halloween! Is it too soon to start on the candy?

of grandparents and garments

2009-10-26T11:18:00.003-04:00

A few years ago my grandmother, Mom Mom (pronounced MUH-mum, in case you've not met her), came to visit me in the 39th Street showroom of the designer I worked for at the time. Here we are then, as she asks that all-important question, "What to Wear?"

It's a question I've been asking, and attempting to answer lately on my new website (click).

Recently, the reporting has taken me back to my first days in the Garment District (pictured above and below). A rally there last week got me thinking about the demise of American manufacturing, something I know my late grandpa Jack had quite a lot to say about.

I found this (click) in a letter he wrote to The New York Times 22 years ago:
"...to believe that trade deficits are not detrimental to the wealth of a nation is to miss that these deficits provide the foreign exchange that is gobbling up American corporations, compromising national sovereignty and systematically reducing Americans to the status of tenants in their own land."
Yesterday, I visited Mom Mom, and told her about the rally in the Garment District and finding that letter.

"Well of course," she said, " You know your great grandparents were in the garment business."

"What?"

I'm sure that any number of relatives on my dad's side of the family reading this are thinking they must have told me this a hundred times. But I didn't know! My great grandfather, as history would have it, established a factory on Greene Street that made pants for the soldiers in World War I. This is sort of like reporting on the history of Elsie the Cow this summer (click) and discovering Elsie's handler hung out with my other great grandfather at the 1939 World's Fair.

As my cousin Ken said yesterday, witnessing my discovery, "You can't escape your family."

For more, see the newest entry on the Sartorialist's Dilemma: (click)

the power of pink

2009-10-24T11:27:00.003-04:00

Splat! went a giant can of pink paint on the subway, and the perpetrator scurried away, embarrassed. The man on the bench remained, daring the paint to approach his shimmering white sneakers.

Incidentally, this occurred the same week that my new piece, "Is Backlash the New Pink?" went up on Vanity Fair.com. Click for more for on the perils of pink.

of lost boys and wild things

2009-10-20T23:37:00.000-04:00

Observing the wave of Peter Pan syndrome that's swept across Manhattan in Where the Wild Things Are's wake (likely from the direction of Williamsburg), I wonder if the phenomenon has less to do with nostalgia than with self-recognition in an island of sensitive and destructive creatures. "I wish you guys had a mom," says Max, looking into one Wild Thing's eyes. I can imagine a Lost Boy or two who's inspired the same reaction in me along the way.

JM Barrie, Peter Pan's author, suggested that girls are "much too clever" to be sent to Never Never Land, but the photo above might suggest otherwise. That's me, Deanna, and Erin, finding our inner Wild Things in Isla Vista, California--Never Never Land on earth, if there ever was. That shot was taken in 2003--I think by the big brother of that little boy on the left. I wonder how old he is now.

See Vanity Fair.com (click), for my elaboration on this idea.

dog days with david chang

2009-10-19T11:18:00.005-04:00

This summer, while at Saveur, I got to talk to David Chang about his new cookbook. One of my favorite bits didn't make it onto Saveur's site, but I wanted to share it with you:

JA: Well’s it’s funny—it seems like you’re confounded with this rapid rise [to success], so I was wondering if doing the book might have helped you to process the last couple of years in any way…

DC: Yeah, it totally did. Just going over all that stuff—it’s sort of insane. It just feels like dog years. You know, it feels like it went by very fast, but it literally feels like 30 years.

JA: I think that's New York years too.

image from Esquire.com

Dog years!

And by the way, I love the book (click). It reminded me of graffiti artist Claw Money's scrapbook (click), only with pickle recipes, and gave me a good sense of the Momofuku dynasty as it stood when he wrote it.

Although David Chang doesn't really vibe "dad," I kept thinking of the restaurants as his kids:

There is the firstborn and eternally popular Noodle Bar, reliable home of sweet and fiery Ramen broths; Ssäm Bar, the temperamental late-bloomer that courted death before exploding into the late-night pork orgy it is today; Ko, the fine-boned beauty whose two Michelin stars Chang lives in terror of losing; and, last but not least, Milk Bar, the sugar-buzzed little sister attached to Ssäm’s side.

Paging through Chang’s stories of fleeing pants-less chefs in Tokyo and converting East Village dens of iniquity into risky restaurants left me intrigued. Recipes like spicy pork sausage with rice cakes and pan roasted asparagus with a poached egg and miso butter made me hungry. So I called up David Chang for more details...get some here (click).

That St. Louis shout-out at the end was completely unscripted.

free for all

2009-10-16T14:50:00.009-04:00

Kevin Kearney (click) called me a cheap date (!) when I forewent my free footwear at Cole Haan's party the other night--but then I told him I was hungry.

photo from The Selby for Cole, Rood & Haan

For more details, see the Sartorialist's Dilemma. (click.)

jaybird's jeans

2009-10-15T00:01:00.005-04:00

It's not news that I'm a little picky...okay, obsessive about jeans.

Here's a shot I took to accompany my first story on the topic several years ago (click.) As usual, looking for an excuse to photograph my feet (click.) The Denim Diaries continue now, on The Sartorialist's Dilemma: click.

the sartorialist's dilemma

2009-10-14T16:49:00.008-04:00

As I mentioned Monday, this Gathering String thing is a work in progress, and I've already moved it. And renamed it. It's now called the Sartorialist's Dilemma, and it resides here: (click). I would love your comments as I embark on this project, combining two inspirations, The Sartorialist (click) and Michael Pollan's Omnivore's Dilemma (click) in an effort to figure out: What to wear?

Many of you, dear friends and family, have been collaborating with me on this for years. As you well know, this is no new dilemma for me.

Help me figure it out: click. I really would love your comments in regards to the project!

gathering string

2009-10-12T22:17:00.006-04:00

Well, good morning! I'm presenting a whole new project to you today. For the moment it's called gathering string and resides here: click. I've made three entries already, and the one that may best outline my intentions thus far is this one: click. In essence, it's one Jaybird's attempt to figure out what to wear. Remember the first day of school? click.

gathering string's URL (that's web address, luddites) is catchy, I know, but for the time being, we're sort of in beta. Which is to say, that you, dear Jaybird readers, are my test kitchen.

It's very much a work in progress (what isn't?) and I'd love to know your thoughts on it. By all means, leave comments or send me emails. More to come...

smooth sailing

2009-09-30T00:11:00.009-04:00

A shot from Gardiners Bay:

On the last Saturday in September, everything seems so simple. Here's hoping for steady breeze and sunshine through the fall.

how now, brown cow

2009-09-27T21:33:00.015-04:00

You might remember that this summer, I spent some serious time communing with cows (click). A piece of the experience appears in the October edition of Saveur Magazine.

I suggest picking up a copy--the kitchen staff was testing this issue's recipes while I worked in the editorial office this summer. The beet stew, lamb with salsa verde, and cinnamon coffee cake are especially outstanding.

My personal highlight begins on page 12: a love letter to my mom, our family's farm, and Elsie the Cow. (click.)

Here's mom at the farm, finding the photo of her grandparents that shows up in the magazine.

hold the syrup

2009-09-23T23:26:00.004-04:00

In today's age of food porn (click), I'm pretty sure the interview I engaged Eric Berley in for the little Saveur (click) piece that went with this photograph would qualify as phone sex.

Photo: Landon Nordeman

I've never met Eric in person, but suffice to say that one Thursday morning this summer he made me very, very, hungry. Next time I'm in Philly, I'm calling in on those fabulous Berley boys at Franklin Fountain (click).

recommended for a sunny sunday

2009-09-20T09:47:00.010-04:00

If you, like me, sometimes find yourself paralyzed by the possibilities for a sunny Sunday in NYC, I'll offer some inspiration from my itinerary yesterday: tacos de desayuno (we got ours at Elote) followed by a walk to The Open at Deitch Projects in Long Island City.

It pretty much involves walking along McGuiness Blvd across the bridge to Queens, and hooking over towards the water.

(Click.)

Depending on your exact route, you might pass the Titanic Museum (click)--though the curator wasn't home yesterday when we stopped by,

and then heading all the way to the water where you'll have a dazzling view of the U.N. and the rest of the city. Or you could just swing up in your sailboat.

Here's a little preview of what you can look forward to.

tomatoes and sunflowers growing outside,

a cool, quiet, towering, sun-filled gallery inside,

coyotes prowling--I dreamt last night they were made of tin foil, (There are live animals too, but I won't tell you what kind.)

and a moonlit cakewalk.

We stopped for a beer on Vernon Blvd. before hitching the G back home. This spot (click) was closed for a private party, but if I was doing it all over again today--with you, for example, I might check it out. Happy trails, Eid, Rosh Hashanah, and, of course, Sunday.

is steven the new ralph?

2009-09-18T22:33:00.006-04:00

Steven Alan Spring 2010 from Steven Alan on Vimeo.

Here's hoping that Spring 2010 looks, smells, sounds, and tastes something like Steven Alan's presentation a few nights ago. I think I sense a lifestyle brand...more on Dossier (click).

DVF: princess of power

2009-09-15T15:39:00.006-04:00

This week I found personal and professional advice in a highly unlikely place: backstage at Fashion Week's Bryant Park tent.

The source however, was a reliable one. None other than Diane Von Furstenberg. Let's have a quick look at her to-do list so far: find my prince (click), design something revolutionary (click), become an icon (click), find my prince--again (click), make a comeback (click), become a contributing editor to a powerful publication (click), lead my profession's most visible association (click), beautify my city (click), and, as you can see below, have a healthy, beautiful, and supportive family. She must be doing something right.

This season's collection, not surprisingly, was pretty and powerful. But most powerful, I found, were Ms. Furstenberg's instructions for her models as they took to the runway. See below, and at Dossier, (click).

Karen the Kiwi

2009-09-15T00:05:00.022-04:00

Karen Walker's show is one of my Fashion Week favorites. Maybe it's her New Zealand heritage, which reminds me of my favorite muses (click.) I would happily wear pretty much every piece she sends down the runway, but Karen herself is also a fount of fun ideas.

This season she pointed to the television show, "The Prisoner," as the source of her "'60s Edwardian on the seaside" inspiration, assuring me I wouldn't have to watch all 18 episodes on DVD to get the point. But if this trailer is any indication, I just might want to.

I love the name Patrick McGoohan, and I also love this shiny pencil gray slicker--perfect to hide under on a rainy day at the beach. See Dossier (click) to find out what else I would pack for my getaway with McGoohan.

Up next...my favorite Princess of Power...(the evolution of She-Ra).

party dresses

2009-09-13T11:55:00.004-04:00

For the Cynthia Rowley show, the interior of Gotham Hall felt like a saucer glass of champagne: all round, open, golden, and bubbly.

All I could think about was a peony pink dress she made ages ago that I desperately wanted to wear to the senior prom.

Ten years later, some clever girl will probably spot this bottle green number with the floppy bow for her springtime inspiration.

Meanwhile, Jill Hennessy carried the fuschia torch in the front row. More notes at Dossier (click.)

harlow honeys

2009-09-12T10:34:00.008-04:00

fashionably recovering

2009-09-11T11:40:00.006-04:00

Fashion's Night Out was lots of fun (click for details on Dossier), and today, the drizzly day after, I'm taking cues from this little lady, shown lounging in John Patrick Organic's Spring/Summer 2010 collection, and getting some reading done at home.

Next stop, Cynthia Rowley.

fashion fuel

2009-09-10T22:53:00.006-04:00

Earlier today I gave you the soundtrack of my morning. If only I could have given you a taste!

Have a lick at Dossier. (click.) More Fashion Week coverage to come...

soundtrack

2009-09-10T08:18:00.006-04:00

A few of you have expressed an interest in even the most quotidian details of my life. More banalities, you've said. Just kidding, no you haven't. But I still wanted to tell you that I listen to this song, and album on repeat this week.

It was playing at the salon when my hair was chopped, and seems to have led to a semi-permanent imprint on my brain, suddenly vulnerable without all that extra shrouding.

spain part I

2009-09-07T19:11:00.020-04:00

As I batten the hatches for Fashion Week (click), there's not much time for writing about my short summer holiday. But here are a few photos before autumn sweeps us away.

First stop: Barcelona.

You can fill in the blanks from the hotel review I wrote for Mr and Mrs Smith. (click.)

Next stop, the Costa Brava...

august, observed by iphone

2009-09-02T00:32:00.004-04:00

buenas noches

2009-08-22T00:11:00.008-04:00

This is what I see when I walk from the newsroom to the subway, my primary view of the city these days.

I'm hoping that you'll read about the story I've been busy with somewhere other than this blog, so I'm keeping it bottled up for now. (That's a hint, you clever reader.)

In the meantime, I'm dusting off my passport for a spin in Spain. As glorious as Times Square is, I gotta get out of here. So, for now, hasta luego, y buenas noches.

new york city giveth, and taketh away

2009-08-14T10:43:00.011-04:00

New York years, a wise young chef recently observed in conversation, are like dog years, in the way they rapidly pass. This is an outstanding city to love and live in, but is in a perpetual state of metamorphosis, without mercy for our memories.

image from James and Karla Murray (click.)

That sweet aching nostalgia was already coloring my week when I wrote this piece (click) for Dossier. By far, the best part of the rooftop exhibition, aside from the view of downtown, was Jim and Karla Murray's collection of photographs of New York City storefronts. (Take a minute to breath in the smell of flour and espresso in its dark corridor of the bygone Vesuvio Bakery.)

image from Ivory Serra/The New York Times

Then, earlier this week, I received the really sad news from Moose that we--and by "we" I mean this city, lost the perpetually young Andy Kessler, who suffered an allergic reaction to a wasp sting in Montauk. Andy appeared in my midst a few years ago, at a moment when I was questioning my commitment to New York. He could have stayed a stranger, but instead became one of those people I relished running into. Aside from being damn cute, he just grinned in a way that seemed like he knew what you were going through; and in spite of serious status in the skateboarding world, I got the feeling his capacity for compassion dwarfed his sizeable street cred. Maybe that was just what I needed then, but for whatever reason, Andy Kessler, then hopping around crutches, became somewhat of a New York City angel to me, appearing at opportune moments.

Knowing that someone like him called this crazy place home made it a more rewarding place to live. Now, learning more about his life I realize that might be because he bled and sweated for this city, and like that young chef, was reckless and relentless in his commitment to his craft, which made him an integral part of this creature called New York.

Bret Anthony Johnston said it beautifully on The New York Times' website today.

He’ll be remembered as a man who understood the abiding and cathartic power of resilience. You don’t give in. You take every run — on the ramp, with recovery, at City Hall. It has everything and nothing to do with skateboarding which, at its essence, is the act of focusing so intensely on the body that you feel liberated from your physical form. Think not of swimming in a pool, but of becoming the ocean itself. Think not of flying, but of floating in a place where the ground or gravity has never existed — a place where, at long last, there is no irony, no pain or struggle, where there’s no such thing as falling.

sweet dreams, parte dois

2009-08-13T00:35:00.002-04:00

(click.)

If you missed part 1, you can (click), and download the whole thing, or if you really want bedtime reading, you could even buy the magazine...

andy kessler.

2009-08-12T10:49:00.005-04:00

Sad news this morning from Agent Moose (click.)

Though I don't know if Andy even knew my name, there was a little happy while when our paths crossed multiple times. It began when he was on crutches, which makes sense--otherwise he probably wouldn't have sat still at a movie theater, or on the curb outside KCDC long enough for me to wave at him. I didn't know who he was, just that I always spotted his olive skin and mischievous grin, and what I liked to think was a spark of recognition in his eyes.

When this article came out in New York Magazine (click), I think Jordan sent it to me, saying, look, isn't that that guy you like? And there he was, Andy Kessler. I devoured that story and tacked that yellow picture over my desk.

From what little I knew, he was a true New York spirit--rowdily carving his own path, usually on a skateboard, but with this little wake of compassion, that just made it feel good to know he was around.

I'll miss you, Andy Kessler.

sweet dreams

2009-08-12T00:51:00.004-04:00

What if this was the bed you were sleeping in tonight?

I'm not either. But this time last year I was--just me and Jorge, watching the waves. You can read about it in this month's Foam Magazine, or on the Escapes section of the website (click). In classic Brazilian novella style, it's running as a series online so you'll have to check back tomorrow for part 2! Bedtime reading...boa noite!

they say...

2009-08-02T13:14:00.007-04:00

They say necessity is the mother of invention. They also say a friend in need is the best policy.

Michael Lanzano, inventor, aesthete, and neighbor extraordinaire saw both, and created this elasticized, waterproof, and fetching bike-seat cover for me. I don't want to know how many pleather python-gators he had to skin for it, but I'm sure it wasn't pretty.

Grazie, Michael.

of midnight murals and "mid-sea mastodons"

2009-07-26T10:28:00.015-04:00

Back to the whales again...sometimes themes continue to re-occur, as if in a dream.

Have you read this article from the Times' Magazine a couple of weeks ago? (click) I only finished it in bed this morning, after I dreamed I was standing on the outdoor subway platform pictured in Os Gemeos' new mural. The writer's description of a whale encounter, of suddenly finding himself wanting "to hop on for a long ride downward toward some dimly remembered primordial home," reminded me of how I felt last week (click), when I first met the mural.

Sometimes for city dwellers, art has to stand in for nature, providing a glimpse of that "primordial home," or giving us a ride there in our dreams.

As you can see above, Miss Mega-Watts (click) captured me there last night with her camera.

If you prefer a clearer statement, made in the light of day, maybe you'd like the way I said it for New York Magazine. (click)

the heat is on

2009-07-22T12:53:00.006-04:00

Get ready for a summertime stream of consciousness.

"The heat," firstly refers to competitive chile pepper eaters, like Peach Moore, pictured below at the Ohio Chile Pepper Festival in 2001.

This is a still from a DVD (converted from a home video) that Peach sent me as I was reporting this piece (click) for Saveur. She's wearing a chile pepper-inspired outfit a friend made for her. Muy cute, no? I especially like the guy sweating next to her and the kids looking on, flabbergasted, as Peach keeps her cool.

image of Carl's from stltoday.com

I also recently reported a roundup of burgers (click) that the Saveurites discovered as they reported the magazine's latest issue.

Had it included my own nostalgic favorites, you might have read about steakburgers at Steak 'n Shake after back-to-school shopping with mom at the St. Louis Galleria (Mom was partial to the patty melt), frosty rootbeers from the keg and paper-plated burgers at Carl's Drive-In in Richmond Heights, MO--also with Mom, post-hiking hamburgers at the Habit in Santa Barbara, CA and more recently, Friday night burgers and beers with the boys at the Corner Bistro in NYC's West Village.

Imagine researching this piece around lunchtime. Not easy.

Oh! And, speaking of St. Louis, and the heat being on...check out this article my old schoolmate Ben Hochman wrote about the heart and soul of Cardinal baseball. (click.) "The Heat is On!" was a great Cardinal theme song of my childhood--I had a bumper sticker with it on my bedroom door for years. And Ben is totally right. To any of us St. Louis kids, Jack Buck's voice was nothing short of a lullaby. Well done, Ben. But one question...what about Willie McGee?

a break on a baleia's back

2009-07-16T21:19:00.006-04:00

They're baaaack. (click.)

Os Gemeos finished their mural on Houston last night, after a long day at the office. I had a long one too. So while you better believe there's a story to tell, I, like my new friend pictured above, am tired, and ready to nap on a patchwork whale's back.

So that's all for now. In the meantime, you can click on the photo above to see it nice and close.

where I've been

2009-07-08T21:44:00.007-04:00

Here are some pictures from the project that's keeping me from writing more at the moment...

see here (click.) wait for the kicker quote.

so new, she's still wet behind the ears

away away, to half moon bay

2009-06-29T22:57:00.011-04:00

Tonight represents a real New York City changing of the guard.

Miss Elizabeth Benney, my first NYC roommate, without whom I never would have lasted a year in this city, is packing her boxes. Her man Abe has arrived to take her back to Half Moon Bay, California.

I'm holding two varieties of shredder in that photo. One is a document shredder, defeated by the last eight years of Benney's pay stubs. The other is my dad's old sled that I left uptown when I moved, for snowy days at Central Park. I got some funny looks carrying that home on the train tonight.

Ever the narcissist, on my way to see Miss Benney tonight I took a moment to make it all about me and go for a stroll down memory lane, also known as West 86th Street. I started almost at Riverside, at the Dexter House, now apparently the Dexter House Hotel.

This was the first place I lived, pre-Elizabeth. I don't remember "Hotel" being part of the name when I slept on a Murphy bed, cooked on a hot plate and shared a bathroom in the hall with the cast from a Joseph Mitchell story. It looks pretty nice now, but let me tell you...when I found my bedroom at Miss Benney's place I think I cried tears of joy.

Here's a photo I took that first winter on West 86th Street. I must have taken this out of the Dexter House's (public hallway) bathroom window, cause the one in my room was about eight inches from a brick wall. It would not be an exaggeration to say the city was a cold lonely place before I met Miss Benney.

She gave me the keys the day I met her in her little sage green kitchen, and before long we had made her terrace into a tomato plantation.

There's my sweet friend Tianna, who visited from D.C. a few years ago. She was one of many who slept in the loft above Elizabeth's room--a little nook with a mattress, quilt and lamp for those far from home, both literally and figuratively. Elizabeth kept watch over us all from her bed below in her green room.

Tonight outside her bedroom door to the terrace, the moon was a perfect half. Clearly it's time for Elizabeth's move to Half Moon Bay. So...

Goodnight, diner. Goodnight, cab.

Goodnight neighbors who leave on lamps.
Goodnight Elizabeth, call me soon.

Goodnight memories.

Goodnight moon.

artichokes and rainbows

2009-06-28T00:23:00.011-04:00

Here's the view from the kitchen window Saturday, after an afternoon deluge that left me soaked riding home on the J-Train.

Lo and behold, it continued to shine on Sunday for the Brooklyn Unfancy Food Show at the East River Bar, which brought out a flock of food-tattooed Williamsburgers.

A cupcake was cute, but I was partial to the artichoke, my very favorite of foods. I mean, could Pablo Neruda have written such an exquisite ode (click) to an ironic cupcake? I think not, he needed the "artichoke, with a tender heart, dressed up like a warrior." This one is tattooed onto the arm of Annaliese Griffin, of Brooklyn Based (click). She and Indrani Sen (click for her for take for The Times) were talking about people who write their own wedding vows when I snapped this photo.

As it turns out, I'm using Neruda's poem to renew my vows to my favorite food, "the artichoke, with a tender heart, dressed up like a warrior."

It was a great time, with kimchee-slanging D.J.s (click) makin' deals,

McClure's new beer-mustard basking in the sun (I may visit Bob's factory in Detroit next week)

and yummy Green Pirate juice for everyone--I concocted a combination of cantaloupe, cucumber and lime, which Indrani said was a natural combination since cantaloupes and cucumbers cross-pollinate, those frivolous fruits!

I also had a chance to chat with these cheerful cheesemongers from Consider Bardwell and Jasper Hill Farms.

They gave me some tips in preparation for my cheese-judging experience on Thursday, but I have to say, the intimidation continued when I found this photo of the judges in action at last year's competition!!

Which one do you think has a wedge of Jarlsberg tattooed onto their bicep underneath their lab coat?

cheese: the next frontier

2009-06-26T00:32:00.009-04:00

When I agreed to sit on the judging panel of the North American Jersey Cheese Awards happening in Syracuse, New York next weekend, it all seemed pretty small and informal--like this little cheese montage.

Then, this morning I got an email from the head judge (chief justice?) letting me know that there will be 83, yes, 83 cheeses and butters from 30 producers in 16 states, plus Canada, entered in the contest. Tomorrow I'll be receiving my judging packet, with a sample judging form and a list of cheese terminology. Although I've been assured my role is as an aesthetic judge, rather than expert, I'm a bit intimidated by my roster of co-judges, which includes a former New York State cheese grader as well as the Dean of the Cheese Education Guild.

All the cheeses I'll be judging next weekend will be made of cows' milk, specifically from the Jersey breed. In addition to being beautiful, Jerseys are smaller than other dairy cows, and produce milk is higher in butterfat--pretty little rich girls, if you will.

I decided I need to educate myself a bit before passing judgement on some 83 dairy products.

So, I got on the subway to the Essex Street Market and sought direction and basic cheese-acation from Anne Saxelby, the cutest cheese-monger I've yet to encounter--click. (And they are, truly, a really cute breed.) She gave me a crash course between filling orders and taking phone calls in her wee alcove next to Shopsin's.

Anne told me that milk + culture + rennet + salt = curds + whey, the whey is then drained off, leaving curds which are pressed and aged...then...cheese! Right now, my knowledge and experience of cheese is new, young, fresh and unfettered, much like this little curd.

But soon, it will be more like this Jersey raw milk Bouree, buttery, washed in brine, "with a slight pungent aftertaste."

Stay tuned, we've got a long way to go. As one caring acquaintance advised, "start taking your acidophilus now."

craig claiborne: 1920-2000

2009-06-17T22:15:00.014-04:00

From Craig Claiborne's Kitchen Primer:

"The second bête noir for the beginning cook is a lack of daring and a fear of failure."

A lack of daring is definitely one bête noir (sort of like a pet peeve) that Craig Claiborne did not suffer from. He was a son of the south who saw the world in the Navy, decided he'd like to be the food editor of The New York Times and enrolled in Swiss hotel school, thanks to the G.I. Bill. In 1957 he took his post at The Times, where he remained until the mid '80s. He was also openly gay in the puritanical post-war U.S., which must have been very difficult. Perhaps that's why he was known for being utterly approachable in spite of his gift for elegance and style--he knew what it meant to be an outsider.

I learned about Claiborne at a panel given at The New School last week, where food writers discussed what his career meant to their field. I most enjoyed hearing about him from those who knew him.When I say "those who knew him," I mean people like his former colleague Betty Fussell, who once called him "a yokel and a gooney bird" in print and restaurant consultant Clark Wolf, whose starry-eyed memory of Claiborne's 60th birthday party appears in this short piece I wrote for Saveur (click.)

But I also mean people like my mom, who knew him only from his columns in The Times. "I trusted him," she told me when we talked on the phone last night.One of the first cookbooks she gave me when I went to college was his Kitchen Primer, a little marigold yellow paperback that's sitting beside me now.

It has many wonderful basic tips, all written in Claiborne's clean classy style. We learn from his advice, but also from his life's example. As he says in the introduction to the Kitchen Primer:

In my opinion, it is harder to cook spaghetti to the proper degree of doneness (most people overcook it) and get it to the table hot than to make a proper soufflé. And have courage. The best of professionals have known (and later cherish) their early disasters.

Find the Saveur piece here: click.
And please, vote for Deanna, if you haven't yet today, here: click. It's working! Her rank is rising.

toothfairy resides in telluride

2009-06-15T11:41:00.010-04:00

One of my very favorite things about writing profiles is finding out about other people's very favorite things.

Jewelry designer Anna Sheffield was especially fun, because in addition to being tremendously talented (I actually swooned when I zoomed in on this ring--click.) and just plain easy to be around, she grew up believing that the Tooth Fairy lived in Telluride. I may intentionally teach my kids this one day.

Read all about it in our conversation, at Dossier Style. (click.) This was so much fun.

p.s. Have you voted for Deanna yet today? (click.) She could win $15,000 to help make sure the Tooth Fairy will still have places like Telluride when our kids have kids.

my window box runneth over

2009-06-12T22:37:00.009-04:00

I'm going to make a wish now. It is so easy for you to PLEASE help me with it. If you don't feel like reading just *click here* to go to the link to vote for Deanna. (Just hit the box that says "vote for this entry.) You can, and should, do it as many bazillion times as you like for the next 27 days. Okay, that was the shortcut to the point.

Here's the long way...

Remember the little wish-bottles that Erin made for Christmas? (click.)

Well, in the absence of a garden to bury mine in I wrote down my wish, as instructed, and buried it a few weeks ago in my window box. Tiny green poppy sprouts were beginning to appear in the soil, well-watered by the endless days of rain we've had lately in NYC. This morning I went to check on the little guys before I got in the shower and, gasp! Water was nearly spilling over the edges of the window box, and the wish bottle unburied itself from the soil and floated to the top.

I have no idea what this means (other than that something must be done to improve its drainage). Was my wish too light? Did it already come true? Should I make another?
All of the above, perhaps.

So, my additional wish is this:

My dear friend Deanna, who is a total river-warrior-princess, has been nominated by her lovin' man, who she's pictured with below, to win $15,000 for the charity of her choice. In D's case that will be the one she helped establish, ConservationNEXT (click.)

Deanna and Kyle are the best kind of hippies. Their wedding last year on the banks of the American River was a total riverfront love-in dance party. I managed to snap this shot below of D, covertly smiling at the camera, between my sobs of joy.

For real, if she's not winning you over with that smile, if you're really a tough sell, just go to ConservationNEXT's blog (click) to see what the organization does. My favorite entry is the one with the heading: "A Hearty Group of Volunteers Make it Happen in Boring." It's about establishing a new park in Boring, Oregon. Let's put it on the map.

It costs you nothing, imagine how fun it's going to be to see what ConservationNEXT does with 15 grand! Seriously, look at what they've already done (click.) It's pretty astounding.

So, that's my wish from my flooded window box for the time being. Help me make it happen!
Click.
Click.
Click.

so excited...everything that happens will happen today

2009-06-08T17:11:00.006-04:00

One of my first great nights in New York was when my then-brand new roommate, Miss Elizabeth Benney (a stranger from Craigslist, no less!) and I went to hear David Byrne and Caetano Veloso play at Carnegie Hall.

It was my first time inside Carnegie Hall, my first time seeing both these maestros perform and the first of many magical moments with Miss Benney. Every seat in the historical Hall is a good one, but we left our velveteen chairs to sit on the crimson carpeted steps in the balcony's corridor. I just remember those two guys sparkling on that spare elegant stage with a guitar and a Brazilian bum bum drum (it makes my heart thump), and Elizabeth's shoulder beside mine. It's been there ever since.

Elizabeth was my ambassador to New York City, now my home. She's moving back to California soon, but tonight we'll be in Prospect Park for a free David Byrne show in the bandshell...a perfect warm-up for my summertime in the city, and a sweet soon-to-be sendoff for Elizabeth.
For just a little while longer, I'll get to be on a blanket next to Miss Benney--surely the best seat in the house.

rising in the east

2009-06-03T09:50:00.001-04:00

A vision of grandeur as I come out of the subway on day one of my new commute...

thank you!

2009-06-01T15:43:00.013-04:00

for bringing flowers, donuts, bagels, and bubbles, making bloody marys, wearing your Batman costume, buying caipirinhas, taking the initiative, shooting photos and making yesterday a general whirlwind of wishes come true!

pretty in the city

2009-05-23T00:59:00.008-04:00

The makings of a classic NYC weekend...

school's out for summer!

a new bird in town

2009-05-17T21:51:00.015-04:00

Birdie Busch (click), pictured below, breezed into town tonight for the first stop of her summer tour. Her CD flew to me a few weeks ago in the mail, stamped with the whole-hearted approval of Marty Machado (click). Marty and Birdie met years ago in Florida.

He reconnected with her recently and thought the two of us might be kindred spirits "...or something." Marty was right. I love Birdie's lullabies about benders, tenderness and slow dancing in the kitchen. These are things I can get behind. She played a beautiful set, and we got to catch up and exchange homemade gifts (honey-wheat bread with raisins for the songbird, and a hand-printed Birdie Busch shirt for the jaybird) and laugh about this old story she found (click) when she tried to track down Marty a while back.

Birds of a feather, indeed.

Read more about it at Foam...

ready to rumble

2009-05-15T16:17:00.011-04:00

Check out these guys getting their butter-yellow 1968 Camaro ready for the weekend.

Lately I've been loving yellow, and working on a story about the Busselton Ute Muster (click) is making me miss my friend Paulo's old 1972 Maverick. In his words, "It was a machine!" P-nut's moved on to heavier machinery, managing corporate jets in Málaga, Spain.

One of these days I'm going to turn up ask for a ride, but for now in Brooklyn it's a good day for just rollin' in the sunshine...

bella

2009-05-14T15:24:00.004-04:00

is four!

love, MOM

2009-05-10T23:41:00.001-04:00

Seriously, I am about to give you all the best Mother's Day gift. It's called Postcards From Yo Momma (click)--a bulletin board of hilarious correspondence from moms. You won't regret this.

I learned about it from Lauren Collins in the New Yorker (click) a few weeks ago, and laughed out loud on the train. (Is there something about childbirth that bestows a genius for the comic use of punctuation and capitalization?)

I have plenty of gems in my inbox from my mom too, who generally signs emails in all caps: love, MOM. Here are a few favorites:

Subject: Pixel pink
Finally got the lipstick and will bring it to you soon, only 10 days! love, MOM (I didn't know you jumped out of a plane!)

Subject: Home again
Hi there, I hope your class went well. Tabbouleh is made from bulger wheat, not couscous (what was I thinking?), but I see no reason not to make it with couscous if one needed too. lots of love, MOM

Subject: CORSICA
HELLO? I AM HERE. ALL IS WELL; THIS ISLAND IS SO BEAUTIFUL. THIS FRENCH TYPING IS BAD? KEYBOARD IS STRQNGE. LOTS OF LOVE. MOM

Mom and Sara

So, MOMs can make us laugh without even trying. But making my mom laugh? Like, really really, laugh, is another story. It's something that only my sister can truly achieve, and it's totally priceless. So, she's pulling out all the stops on this one. Happy Mother's Day, MOM. Scroll down...

love,
your Jaybird

city lights + may moon

2009-05-10T01:29:00.005-04:00

Ever get the feeling that you're being watched?

a torrent of tauruses

2009-05-07T10:33:00.020-04:00

Tauri? I like Tauruses better.

This week, in Taurus birthdays in the tri-state area...
(Introduced by Ferdinand, the friendly bull.)

Jack kicked it off on Tuesday. I just came across the email where I first learned about Jack that (very partially) reads, "Name, Giancarlo Salvador (fabulously italian!), (nickname, Jack-cute) tall, dark, incredibly handsome! From...here (meaning Padova)..." I'm glad we get to keep him in NYC for a while.

Wednesday was Mom Mom’s (pictured below). I'm actually writing this from her house. Last time I visited I wanted to watch Breakfast at Tiffany's, but she wanted The Devil Wears Prada. She's a typical Taurus, so she won.

The lovely Kristen Joy Watts (click) took the photo above, and happens to share Mom Mom’s birthday…which I botched yesterday, thinking it was today.

Sorry! I'm hoping that some smart cookies (click) with cherries made it up to the pretty smart cookie herself.

Friday will ring in Nicolette's. If she looks like trouble, it's because she is. Nico is a totally typical Taurus--stable, loyal, nurturing and ready to toss you through the air with a flick of her pretty head if you get in her way. Just kidding, kind of.

I'm glad she's on my side.

Saturday is another double-whammy. My Aunt Carol, who is famous for giving fantastic books for birthdays, including one of my all-time favorites, pictured below, Maira Kalman's (click) Ooh-la-la Max in Love.

And speaking of birthday presents, Saturday we'll also get a full moon...

which means wacko magical times will soon be upon us, as they often are this time of year...

and it will be Erin's birthday, which is beyond cause for celebration. It's cause for a cosmic sigh of relief.

*¡Happy Birthday!*

may showers

2009-05-06T11:32:00.007-04:00

Weather for New York 11211

56°F

Current: Overcast
Wind: NE at 0 mph
Humidity: 84%

Wed

67°F | 56°F

Thu

70°F | 56°F

Fri

72°F | 56°F

Sat

72°F | 54°F

So, Monday I was inspired by a technicolor Gene Kelly-ish fellow with a little canary on his shoulder. (click.) Yesterday was a sort of navy stockings-ish Mary Poppins sort of day (below). Today is more Catherine Deneuve in the Umbrellas of Cherbourg, complete with yellow slicker.

Which leads me to the question--if London has Mary Poppins and France The Umbrellas of Cherbourg, what is New York's contribution to the canon of rainy day moments in cinematic style? Or your city's, if you're not in New York? Any ideas? Leave a comment...

singin' in the rain

2009-05-05T12:42:00.008-04:00

Here's a question for another drizzly day:

Who has done more for the umbrella's place in pop culture--Mary Poppins' magical nanny-transport or Rihanna, forever adding an extra syllable to the word, making it um-ba-rella? (Click.) Sorry, if it's stuck in my head it's gonna be stuck in yours too.

I'm more of a Poppins girl myself, channeling her today in a restrained (but a tiny bit ruffled) navy dress, stockings and sensible little black boots--punctuated, however, with this little number, a gift from Bella and Maizie:

A yellow umbrella that looks like a longshoreman. I highly recommend the yellow umbrella (though maintain that carrying an umbrella of any color in midtown should require a license.) It's sort of a portable sunshine on an otherwise grey day. This fellow I captured for Dossier (click) was onto it too, with an even cuter accessory on his shoulders. Perhaps his Gene Kelly jaunt yesterday inspired today's Ms. Poppins.

does anyone know the charleston?

2009-05-02T23:22:00.006-04:00

Cookie Monster pointed his xylophone stick at me.
"She knows the Charleston," he said, a glimmer of recognition in his plastic eye.

And that, my dears, is how I ended up performing in my platforms at the West 4th Street stop.

barefoot

2009-04-30T13:38:00.020-04:00

On the last day of National Poetry Month:

When my dear old friend Benton, a filmmaker and writer, saw Lost in Translation, he said Charlotte, played by the then-unknown Scarlett Johansson, reminded him of me. Naturally, I was curious and went to see the movie. I wasn't sure whether I was flattered or...well, flattered, when it opened with the lovely Ms. Johansson prancing in her underpants.

I understood further when this exchange was delivered between Charlotte and Bob, played by Bill Murray:

CHARLOTTE
I'm stuck. Does it get easier.

BOB
No, yes, it does...

CHARLOTTE
Yeah? But look at you.

BOB
Thanks. It does, the more you know
who you are... you don't care about
things the same way...

CHARLOTTE
I just don't know what I'm supposed
to be. I thought maybe I wanted to
be a writer... but I hate what I
write, and I tried taking pictures,
but John's so good at that, and mine
are so mediocre... and every girl
goes through a photography phase,
like horses, you know dumb pictures
of your feet...

That's the part that (I think) made Benton think of me. The "taking pictures of your feet" part. Old friends, like notebooks (click) and art projects your mom framed (see below), will never let you forget all those people you used to be...those phases when you took pictures of your feet. Which is exactly what I was doing at 16, probably aching for Spring Break with Seasonal Affective Disorder. Pictured below, is the photo of my feet, remembered by Benton, framed by my mom (and hanging in her bathroom in St. Louis), with accompanying poem winding around below it.

It reads:

Barefoot (Or my premature Peter Pan Syndrome...)

God, what I wouldn't give to be barefoot again.
To get out of this dungeon, this wintry den-

I want to pass through doorways without noticing.

To open the window with no cold surprise
All that I want is some sun in my eyes.

Just to look down and see ten tanned toes
Not big scary boots to keep out the snows.

(Does anyone sanity's froze? Am I the only one who feels strange in these clothes?)

If I just make this one long grey day end.
So I could go back to being barefoot again.

--Jenni Avins, 16

I'm still a bit of a navel-gazer. (Duh.) But aren't we all really? And isn't marking a moment what old friends, photos of your feet and poetry is all about? Even Roger Cohen dug out his diary from the '70s and shared a poem (click) with the readers of The New York Times yesterday.
At it's worst, New York City can feel like total chaos. At it's best, poetry in motion. Sometimes I feel a bit lost in the translation myself. But I've got my own Bobs to help me find synchronicity in the city, and my Bentons (and bathroom walls in St. Louis) to remind me this is no new phenomenon. We've been here before, kid.

Here's a shot of me and Maizie, just a week or two ago, barefoot on the beach.

BOB

You'll figure it out. I'm not worried
about you. Keep writing.

Thanks Bob.

love, MOM

2009-04-27T17:39:00.033-04:00

Seriously, I am about to give you all the best Mother's Day gift. It's called Postcards From Yo Momma (click)--a bulletin board of hilarious correspondence from moms. You won't regret this.

I learned about it from Lauren Collins in the New Yorker (click) a few weeks ago, and laughed out loud on the train. (Is there something about childbirth that bestows a genius for the comic use of punctuation and capitalization?)

I have plenty of gems in my inbox from my mom too, who generally signs emails in all caps: love, MOM. Here are a few favorites:

Subject: Pixel pink
Finally got the lipstick and will bring it to you soon, only 10 days! love, MOM (I didn't know you jumped out of a plane!)

Subject: Home again
Hi there, I hope your class went well. Tabbouleh is made from bulger wheat, not couscous (what was I thinking?), but I see no reason not to make it with couscous if one needed too. lots of love, MOM

Subject: CORSICA
HELLO? I AM HERE. ALL IS WELL; THIS ISLAND IS SO BEAUTIFUL. THIS FRENCH TYPING IS BAD? KEYBOARD IS STRQNGE. LOTS OF LOVE. MOM

Mom and Sara

So, MOMs can make us laugh without even trying. But making my mom laugh? Like, really really, laugh, is another story. It's something that only my sister can truly achieve, and it's totally priceless. So, we're pulling out all the stops on this one. Happy Mother's Day, MOM. Scroll down...

love,
your Jaybird

streets in the heat

2009-04-26T23:19:00.002-04:00

91 degrees Fahrenheit in Brooklyn today! The tree outside my kitchen window (see last entry) has yet to blossom, so for now you get the view out the living room--and no, you don't have to pay extra for this.

For a more composed take on street style, see here for a hotter method of keeping cool on Dossier Style.

on the verge

2009-04-25T13:40:00.006-04:00

Winter in New York can bring us to the verge of many actions, some of them drastic. But today, the sun is shining and any second we're going to burst into bloom. Here's the view from the kitchen window yesterday:

And today, it's 81 degrees and those little green buds are starting to blossom:

Any day now we'll be in full flower. Congratulations, New York, we've almost made it to May...

planet earth

2009-04-22T18:49:00.000-04:00

I had a multitude of epic nature shots to share with you on Earth Day. But from where I'm sitting, waking up from a jet-lagged nap on a New York City evening, this one felt the most special.

Here's a postcard from what may be, to me, one of the greatest spots on earth to watch the sunset: the bluffs above Sands in Isla Vista, California.

sunday in the sky: Brisbane-LA-NYC

2009-04-19T21:28:00.006-04:00

Here we go. I mailed a postcard from this mailbox outside the airport in Brisbane, Australia before I took off Sunday (yesterday?) morning.
Come fly with me.

Brisbane.
Many hours of writing and reading elapse until...

The ultimate luxury: morning California light.

A rosy fog blanket rolling back from the Pacific.

The Channel Islands.

L.A.

Just call me angel of the morning, angel.

Then slowly turn away.
Taking off for New York: look closely for our shadow on the Pacific.

Maybe the Colorado River. I can't say for sure.

Snow still hanging, I believe, on the Rockies.

The Great Plains.

The Atlantic.

East Coast of the USA.

nest for the night

2009-04-18T18:05:00.005-04:00

A nest for the night and a morning swim in Brisbane. Now, onto L.A. then home to NYC.

sets in the west

2009-04-16T23:19:00.006-04:00

The sun may be rising in the east, but for the time being it's setting on my days in Western Australia.

the helicopter pilot and the barrel racer

2009-04-16T20:47:00.010-04:00

Willie Cook will marry Liz Hore today in the Cardrona Valley of New Zealand's South Island, sealing the deal on one of the most bad-ass and beautiful couples I know. Here at the Brown household we're sorry to miss the celebration. We'll be thinking of them all day long and know the barrel racer will make the most beautiful bride.

sara

2009-04-15T11:01:00.004-04:00

looks so pretty making quesadillas in her kitchen.

navigation

2009-04-15T10:24:00.007-04:00

In this family, "adventure" means you don't know where you're going.

The key is to trust one another, bring snacks and stay positive. Maizie's already onto it, as you can see above. After lunch at a winery in Margaret River today us girls hoped for the best when Doug followed a hunch and turned onto red-dirt road.

And look where we ended up:

Does this not look remarkably like the beach where Danny and Sandy frolicked in the beginning of Grease? You decide. Theirs:

Ours:

Here's to adventure.

maizie

2009-04-14T22:47:00.003-04:00

is two.

crocodile hunters

2009-04-14T09:21:00.017-04:00

Here's Doug a while back at a costume party in New Zealand, in a moment of foreshadowing before the big move to Australia.

While he tamed the cows at the farm yesterday Sara, Bella, Maizie and I checked out a local wildlife park.

Our first crocodile...and as long as we're reinforcing Australian stereotypes...

Why yes, there are kangaroos all over the place.

It's good to wear black to these places. One never knows how she may end up accessorizing.

Today at the beach, the wee naturalist in training.

The spirit of Steve Irwin lives on...look what came to visit a few feet off the shore.

exactly.

2009-04-13T09:15:00.008-04:00

I have had the weirdest day.

2009-04-11T11:28:00.022-04:00

First photo of the day:

"Has anyone seen my tiara?"
Maizie's wand must have had some bizarre malfunction when she cast a spell on me this morning. Within an hour I was sitting shotgun with a perfect stranger doing donuts in a mudpit.

That vehicle is a 1972 Torana Ute. Here's Shane, the driver, who also built the car.

Us Yanks might compare a Ute to an El Camino, but we would be grossly underestimating their significance. Here in Australia, Utes are not just utility vehicles with extra room in the back, they are a subculture and a lifestyle.

People drive from all over the country traveling to Ute Musters where they can race through the bush and burn out in the mud. It so happens that the first annual Busselton Ute Muster is this weekend, just a few minutes from the farm. So Brother Brown dropped me off to have a look while he checked on his cows.

Truly I don't know how to string this series of events into something coherent for you, so I'll just tell you what happened.

I spent a couple of hours chatting with guys like Paul, pictured above, who drove with two mates from Perth, Shane, who took me for the spin in the mudpit, and members of the Rebels Motorcycle Club who put on the event. All the races and action were a bit delayed due to some heavy tension between the bikers and the police, so I took a family beach break midday.

There's Sara with the babes and the Indian Ocean. She took them for a walk while Doug recovered from a jellyfish attack that made mine yesterday look like a mosquito bite.

On the way home we took a small detour to go for a kangaroo hunt. Bella and Maizie thought it was silly I'd never seen one.

I have now. Here are three standing at attention in the paddock. We got a bit lost in bush, but after half an hour of bumping through the outback we found our way back to the road.

While Bella and Maizie had a bath and Sara made dinner I headed back to see how things were shaping up at the Ute Muster.

The cops had left and happy hour was warming up nicely.

Shane was back in the bullring showing off for the young bucks on the haybales.

I stayed to watch the sunset and circle work, which is what they call donuts here, and made it home in time for dinner and easter egg filling.

It seems exploring rural Australia may bring adventures similar to the New Zealand chronicles, in terms of sheer randomness. (Remember the day Mr. Universe turned up?)

It's just another day in the outback: fairies, mudpits, bikers, jellyfish, kangaroos and easter eggs. Who knows what the next tap from Maizie's magic wand will bring...

today: western australia skies

2009-04-10T10:54:00.003-04:00

time out

2009-04-09T09:28:00.003-04:00

To tell you that today I saw a bullfight and was later lashed across the face by a jellyfish wouldn't be untrue, but it might be a misrepresentation of the sort of trip this is.

Those bulls weren't joking, but their stubbornness is mild compared to that of the tiny Taurus pictured below. In this photo she's in time out for pummeling her little sister at the playground.

She's yelling to my sister:
"Mom! Mom! I'm just sitting here because I feel like it! Not because I'm in time out!"

Seriously, give me time out under that tree any day. Just tell me what I have to do.

alighting in LA, en route to the center

2009-04-09T08:52:00.006-04:00

I had a brief layover in L.A. for a bit of sun and saltwater before continuing on to Australia, where Sara and Bella picked me up in Perth.

We stopped at this roadside fruit stand and gas station, and confirmed that the center of the universe is wherever your family is.

I left my apartment in Brooklyn before 5:00 am Sunday morning and took this picture Tuesday night, getting to Sara and Doug's for the first time:

The road towards home.

bunny hop

2009-04-04T21:51:00.005-04:00

Do an image search for Busselton, Australia, and this jetty is pretty much all you're gonna get:

Which looks pretty perfect from where I'm sitting in Brooklyn at the end of another NYC winter. So I've packed my bag full of bunny eggs and I'm off tomorrow to see my sister, Doug, Bella and Maizie (who is two years old today!!) That's right. In 2009 Australia is the New New Zealand.
Those Busselton beaches won't be barren for long.

Let's hit it Pagoda.

where the wild things are

2009-03-27T23:41:00.011-04:00

Where the Wild Things Are, directed by Spike Jonze...
How incredible does this look?
Dave Eggers helped with the screenplay, Karen O with the soundtrack--though it's Arcade Fire here. (Awesome, though I sort of want David Byrne to sing us a lullaby while we hide behind a waterfall or curl up by a fire.)

In a little over a week I'll be taking off for the west coast of Oz, where my favorite wee wild things wait...

bravo

2009-03-25T10:21:00.010-04:00

Last night Erin and I went to see Valentino: The Last Emperor at the Film Forum. We'd been hoping to get tickets to the 8:00 show to catch a Q&A with director Matt Tyrnauer and Vogue's André Leon Talley, but to no avail. So we cozied up with our easter candy in the middle of the third row for the 10:00 show. And guess what?

Matt Tyrnauer introduced the film himself, saying it was heartwarming and "a-mazing" to have a full house at 10:00 on a Tuesday night. He made it well worth our while. Jaunty 60's style caper music opens the film, but our hearts swelled collectively with the first bars of "Bette Davis Eyes."

For an hour and a half, we were swept from backstage to fittings to conference rooms to Valentino's breath-taking, and I mean breath-taking, homes. There was not a gratuitous sound bite, not a lull in the action. Tyrnauer must have had loads of fabulous material on the cutting room floor when he finished this restrained look into the end of Valentino's reign--truly the work of a gifted writer and disciplined editor.

Tyrnauer loved seeing his film so well-received in New York. He said it would play in "any city where anyone cares about life and love and passion for excellence." He was talking about Valentino Garavani, but I'd say the same for Tyrnauer's work.

Bravo.

P.S. You don't have to love fashion to appreciate this movie, but if you do, I'd suggest going to tonight's 10:00 show at the Film Forum.

mom and richard serra: the pulitzer, st. louis

2009-03-19T15:22:00.010-04:00