food isn't always my number one priority when i leave the house.
sometimes i like to shop. when i'm not busy caring about food i'm thinking about clothing myself. well.
my friend and i took a quick jaunt to the city last weekend. just us. we booked a room at swanky, star-studded 60 thompson, a boutique hotel in soho (you may have seen it featured recently in the rachel zoe project on bravo - love her, by the way, in an "i wanna be her for halloween" kind of way). my friend treated me to a belated bday blowout. love her too, by the way. we went all out, starting with the hotel. www.60thompson.com
we took a seriously early flight outta dc at 7 am saturday morning. sounded like a good idea at the time, maximizing time in nyc. whoa that's early. we got there at 10 til 8 and we were at the hotel by 8:15 am, looking probably like eager-beavettes, but who cares?
the people at 60 thompson are fabulous. head-to-toe in black cute boys greet your taxi, whisking your bags from your hands before you can feel the stress from your sickly overpacked bag which is holding enough clothes for a week when you're staying only one night.
mike, doorman, was a perfect gentleman, and so perky for that hour of the morning. {what's he on? i need somma that}
they also let us check in at this ungodly hour; how cool is that? ahh this recession sometimes has its positives. [got the room for a real deal too, relatively speaking]
mike brought up our bags and made himself at home in our tiny but stylish room while he asked us our plans for the night. we didn't have any plans. the plan was to not have a plan this trip. no reservations, no tickets to a show, no schedule whatsoever. the plan was to shop, drink some bloody marys, shop, grab a bite, go out. wake up, repeat, leave town. that's it.
this sweetheart of a sweetheart said he'd be back momentarily with a list of places we should check out that night. sensing his ability to be perky 'round the clock, i stressed that fact that we weren't thump, thump clubbers. he himself was going to a brazilian dance club. i heart new york because you can find anything there. they probably have an oklahoma line dance club somewhere.
or not.
we set out pretty early, grabbing some java and headed down the street in hopes of a manicure/pedicure. what else can you do that early?
just after that, we tried to hit the shops of soho, only to find they don't open til 11 am. damn - the city that never sleeps sleeps in on saturdays. to bergdorf goodman it is, we said, as we hopped into a taxi. off to 57th st and 5th ave it was.
but first, a cocktail. we went to a spot i know from a new yorker i went out with all last summer. not a great weekend spot, shelly's, situated less than a block from bergdorf goodman's but i knew they had yummy bloody marys. spicy and filled with lots of goodies floating around and a big, fat shrimp perched on top. hello new york. we had some oysters, which were fantastic. then a waiter came around with fresh-outta-the-oven focaccia bread, flatbread, biscuits, etc. free, all free. as much as you want.
who said nothing in life's free?
on to bg's. my friend needed a new tote for work. she's really responsible and sensible with a goal in mind. walking into bergdorfs is like walking into heaven for me. the sky opens up and i can hear angels singing.
hmm what do i need at bg's? (nothing really, i just paid off my neiman's card which was a wonderfully freeing experience.)
well, maybe i do need a clutch. all i have are ginormous handbags - no really cute clutches to speak of for going out on dates (and i plan to have a lot of dates real soon). all of a sudden i had a goal. one should always have a goal while shopping or you can get into some serious financial trouble.
we split up. i encountered a rude salesman (why the f is there a man in ladies handbags? unless it's tim gunn or carson kressley i don't want a man trying to outfit me with a bag). he tries fairly hard to sell me a carlos falchi bright blue crocodile clutch that's unquestionably adorable. i really saw myself enjoying that this summer. well it was $750.
i'm not paying $750 for a clutch - it's too expensive for me, i say, sadly. {really it's not exactly what i'm looking for is the problem.}
"that's a great price for a clutch," he says, condescendingly.
look here, mister, i don't give a rat's ass what you think about "great" price. does he not see the bigger-than-dallas balenciaga i'm carrying? clearly i'm ok with dropping an arm and a nut on a bag. sheesh. does he really think that i'm going to be persuaded to buy a clutch because he says it's a great price? i got the hell out of his "area" because i felt he was trying to make me feel inadequate. he doesn't get it.
i be-bopped over to find my friend who was chatting it up with a much more pleasant sales associate who was also getting out from its case a whopper of a gucci tote. darling, you'll have and love it for years and years to come. it actually was a great price; for a clutch, a bag, a tote {a vespa}, whatever. a great price. sometimes i wish i had a job so i needed a bigass tote like this one.
what? ex-squeeze me, is that a cute little gucci clutch whispering my name? oh yes, it is, indeed. soft as can be and oh so sweet, and sensibly, black with the signature bamboo closure and tassle?
well 10 minutes later we each had our bags wrapped in be-purpled bergdorf bags.
and a list of recommended restaurants to hit from our lovely sales lady. i wanted to tell the big dumbo over in carlos falchi that i got a great price on a lovely clutch, sans attitude. fool.
on our way up to 5F, "my" floor, the elevator doors just happened to open to the shoe salon. do you know what shoes they have displayed on tables you practically trip over as you get off the elevator?
christian louboutin.
it's just not fair. all just standing around like whores on a street corner, rubbing up against you, asking you if you're in the mood for a good time. that kind of selling tactic should be illegal. well i've never purchased a pair. i don't need them. i barely go out, i don't have a job requiring heels. it's so frivolous.
10 minutes later i was the proud owner of my first pair of louboutins.
(yes, he loves it, goes so well with his coloring - he's a winter, for sure)
sometimes i like to shop. when i'm not busy caring about food i'm thinking about clothing myself. well.
my friend and i took a quick jaunt to the city last weekend. just us. we booked a room at swanky, star-studded 60 thompson, a boutique hotel in soho (you may have seen it featured recently in the rachel zoe project on bravo - love her, by the way, in an "i wanna be her for halloween" kind of way). my friend treated me to a belated bday blowout. love her too, by the way. we went all out, starting with the hotel. www.60thompson.com
we took a seriously early flight outta dc at 7 am saturday morning. sounded like a good idea at the time, maximizing time in nyc. whoa that's early. we got there at 10 til 8 and we were at the hotel by 8:15 am, looking probably like eager-beavettes, but who cares?
the people at 60 thompson are fabulous. head-to-toe in black cute boys greet your taxi, whisking your bags from your hands before you can feel the stress from your sickly overpacked bag which is holding enough clothes for a week when you're staying only one night.
mike, doorman, was a perfect gentleman, and so perky for that hour of the morning. {what's he on? i need somma that}
they also let us check in at this ungodly hour; how cool is that? ahh this recession sometimes has its positives. [got the room for a real deal too, relatively speaking]
mike brought up our bags and made himself at home in our tiny but stylish room while he asked us our plans for the night. we didn't have any plans. the plan was to not have a plan this trip. no reservations, no tickets to a show, no schedule whatsoever. the plan was to shop, drink some bloody marys, shop, grab a bite, go out. wake up, repeat, leave town. that's it.
this sweetheart of a sweetheart said he'd be back momentarily with a list of places we should check out that night. sensing his ability to be perky 'round the clock, i stressed that fact that we weren't thump, thump clubbers. he himself was going to a brazilian dance club. i heart new york because you can find anything there. they probably have an oklahoma line dance club somewhere.
or not.
we set out pretty early, grabbing some java and headed down the street in hopes of a manicure/pedicure. what else can you do that early?
just after that, we tried to hit the shops of soho, only to find they don't open til 11 am. damn - the city that never sleeps sleeps in on saturdays. to bergdorf goodman it is, we said, as we hopped into a taxi. off to 57th st and 5th ave it was.
but first, a cocktail. we went to a spot i know from a new yorker i went out with all last summer. not a great weekend spot, shelly's, situated less than a block from bergdorf goodman's but i knew they had yummy bloody marys. spicy and filled with lots of goodies floating around and a big, fat shrimp perched on top. hello new york. we had some oysters, which were fantastic. then a waiter came around with fresh-outta-the-oven focaccia bread, flatbread, biscuits, etc. free, all free. as much as you want.
who said nothing in life's free?
on to bg's. my friend needed a new tote for work. she's really responsible and sensible with a goal in mind. walking into bergdorfs is like walking into heaven for me. the sky opens up and i can hear angels singing.
hmm what do i need at bg's? (nothing really, i just paid off my neiman's card which was a wonderfully freeing experience.)
well, maybe i do need a clutch. all i have are ginormous handbags - no really cute clutches to speak of for going out on dates (and i plan to have a lot of dates real soon). all of a sudden i had a goal. one should always have a goal while shopping or you can get into some serious financial trouble.
we split up. i encountered a rude salesman (why the f is there a man in ladies handbags? unless it's tim gunn or carson kressley i don't want a man trying to outfit me with a bag). he tries fairly hard to sell me a carlos falchi bright blue crocodile clutch that's unquestionably adorable. i really saw myself enjoying that this summer. well it was $750.
i'm not paying $750 for a clutch - it's too expensive for me, i say, sadly. {really it's not exactly what i'm looking for is the problem.}
"that's a great price for a clutch," he says, condescendingly.
look here, mister, i don't give a rat's ass what you think about "great" price. does he not see the bigger-than-dallas balenciaga i'm carrying? clearly i'm ok with dropping an arm and a nut on a bag. sheesh. does he really think that i'm going to be persuaded to buy a clutch because he says it's a great price? i got the hell out of his "area" because i felt he was trying to make me feel inadequate. he doesn't get it.
i be-bopped over to find my friend who was chatting it up with a much more pleasant sales associate who was also getting out from its case a whopper of a gucci tote. darling, you'll have and love it for years and years to come. it actually was a great price; for a clutch, a bag, a tote {a vespa}, whatever. a great price. sometimes i wish i had a job so i needed a bigass tote like this one.
what? ex-squeeze me, is that a cute little gucci clutch whispering my name? oh yes, it is, indeed. soft as can be and oh so sweet, and sensibly, black with the signature bamboo closure and tassle?
well 10 minutes later we each had our bags wrapped in be-purpled bergdorf bags.
and a list of recommended restaurants to hit from our lovely sales lady. i wanted to tell the big dumbo over in carlos falchi that i got a great price on a lovely clutch, sans attitude. fool.
on our way up to 5F, "my" floor, the elevator doors just happened to open to the shoe salon. do you know what shoes they have displayed on tables you practically trip over as you get off the elevator?
christian louboutin.
it's just not fair. all just standing around like whores on a street corner, rubbing up against you, asking you if you're in the mood for a good time. that kind of selling tactic should be illegal. well i've never purchased a pair. i don't need them. i barely go out, i don't have a job requiring heels. it's so frivolous.
10 minutes later i was the proud owner of my first pair of louboutins.
sexy, no?
up on 5F, nothing too raunchy happened. i'm a sucker for all things theory and vince - very casual and easy clothes. i made a couple "small" purchases and we made our way over to henri bendel, my friend's favorite store.
i too love bendel's except for two things: one, you get mauled when you walk through the door by salespeople; and they're good. i wonder what kind of class they take. i think if you've sold at bendel's on the first floor you should be able to get a job selling anything. these people are amazing. {note: really the reason i don't care for that is that i always buy a bunch of products i don't need and i'm never gonna use - makeup}.
the other thing i don't like is it's so confusing upstairs. mostly because i'm so flipping directionally challenged. i don't get it. i'm not gonna explain it. go and figure it out and if you can; good for you. i know i'm retarded with both directions and math - i admit it.
as we walk in the door they're having an AG Jeans [adriano goldschmied] extravaganza. in my defense, i think i mentioned if i needed anything this trip, aside from my clutch, perhaps it's a new pair of jeans. i happen to love ag's. they always fit my arse, no matter if it's small or even when it's a little bigger than i like it to be.
jackpot.
did you know ag jeans is making these hot new boyfriend jeans? you can get them distressed in all levels: 5 years, 12 years, 25 years? (25 years supposedly exclusively found at bendels)
i can't mention how much they are because sometimes car payments are less. and that's just crazy.
i purchased a pair that had been distressed 25 years. man, do these look like they've been through hell. i love them because they remind me of old school levi's 501's. my friend bought two pairs. plus jean shorts. plus a jean skirt. ag is her best friend now. [why do i feel like she's making smarter purchases than me?] we are truly buffoons at this point.
a linebacker tackled us in makeup, of course, exactly what i was afraid of. the same white-spiky-haired, butchy woman who sold me a couple hundred bucks of freeze 24/7 last time i was there stopped my friend and started the whole, "look years younger in one minute" schpiel on her, while a jersey girl had me in a chair for a make up "touch up".
for the love of jesus joseph and mary. i looked like a hooker when she was done with me. i'm not kidding. this is why i dread makeovers. everytime i caught myself in the mirror afterwards, a shriek came out of my mouth. i just don't wear that much makeup.
i'm so proud i only spent $89 with jersey girl.
upstairs, my friend had the courage to try bikinis on while i wandered around in circles getting lost. as usual. i couldn't find anything i liked there, being lost and all, except i happened upon a table of goodies for pets. huh? yes, even philippe benefitted from this trip.
philippe is now proudly wearing a henri bendel collar. he looks gayer and frencher than ever.
love that handsome lil guy.
(philippe models his new accessory)
love that handsome lil guy.
(philippe models his new accessory)
(yes, he loves it, goes so well with his coloring - he's a winter, for sure)after this exhausting trip we needed a bite to eat and then a nap, plus we couldn't carry anything else - we were bogged down with a lot of [stimulus] packages. we slept til 9 pm, got up, refreshed ourselves and headed to our ultra-exclusive hotel bar, thom bar, downstairs on the 3rd floor. already bustling with models, euros and other hotties, drinks served by little black dressed waitresses, we were lucky to grab a table. it was still early at 10 pm. very quickly afterward it got packed. uber swank and just a cool place to see and be seen.
you know you can only get up to the bar if you have a room key (or slip the doorman a cool $50 [$100?], as my new york boy did last summer when we came here for drinks on the kickass rooftop bar - not open in march - i should add). we had two champagnes each at $17 a glass, but were only charged for one.
see all the freebies you can get in ny?
we didn't meet anyone here and decided to walk up the street to a recommended spot called cafe noir. two blocks one way and up a block another, we're here. we snag a seat at this bar. cool vibe - we think - maybe/maybe not. either way, we're here, let's get a cocktail. a rugged looking chap next to us says this guy's the best bartender in town {clearly a regular barfly}. we opt for cocktails and since he's the best bartender in town, i tell him to surprise me with vodka and something not too fruity. i get my drink and with the first sip nearly cough it right back up it's so stiff. guy next to me says, he might be the best bartender in town but he can't make a drink.
hmm weird. that would never work in the world of food.
i had to get my drink adjusted, poured into a taller glass, and lots of soda water added to it. it was still awful. we chatted with chap next to us for a while, had a snack with him and headed back over to 60 thompson. we were exhausted.
and by the way, barfly took care of our tab. more freebies in the big apple.
as we approached our hotel, a couple of gentlemen stopped us and asked us if we'd like to head to another bar with them. um no, we're not getting into that taxi. my louboutin-ed dogs were barking and we definitely wanted to wake up at 60 thompson the next day, no matter how cute they were. we talked them into joining us for a cocktail up at the thom bar. well this fine fella, called za za, is charmed by me, for some reason. could be the new ag's, the louboutins or the new gucci clutch (what a fool i am wearing all my new stuff out at one time - hee, i love it). he kept trying to kiss me at the bar, even though i'm telling him i'm not into pda.
really i'm not into over-agressive, ny-accented, personal space-invading guys called za za i think. he was really nice though so i indulged him with a couple of kisses. the guys left later and we headed up for some room service and bed time.
next morning we or, i had an adult-sized bangeroo of a head-ache. my friend, she never gets hangovers, lucky biatch. we showered and made our way out to the shops of soho after checking out with the again, overly sweet folks at 60 thompson. we shopped again, til we dropped.
at olive and bette's we had a minor spending spree on over-priced-but-super-cool t-shirts - the e.vil tees with horoscopes. here's mine.
it says,
Relentless. Opinionated. Belligerent. Good-Humored. Authentic. Individualistic. Visionary.
Zsa Zsa Gabor. Rosa Parks. Charles Darwin. Balenciaga. Mozart.
pretty cool, no?
I dropped a fortune at calypso, as well. purple dress, silk/cashmere scarf, black cashmere shrug, clu t-shirt, amongst other items.
you think i'm crazy? well at least i didn't buy the gold clutch with bright blue lettering: EAT CAVIAR.
do you know how cute that would've been? i love caviar.
i'm doing my best here, people, to stimulate this crappy economy. i think it's safe to say i took one for the team.
we also found a great little treasure of a store called madewell. well it's a treasure because there are steals to be found. the clothes actually don't fit though they look cute on the skinny-ass mannequins, they look like hell when you try them on {after a bit of research i find they're part of j. crew - a lower quality, clearly, like old navy to gap to banana republic}. i bought the biggest slouchy hobo you could ever find though - for a total deal. i could fit inside this bag, if i was that flexible.
after spending all our money and before we started feeling guilty about it, we popped into a charming little taco joint for some tacos and perhaps the best damn bloody maria ever - made with jalepeno tequila and a bunch of other juices. oh my. i took the recipe from the waitress and will be using it to impress my friends.
we decided we'd try to get out on an earlier flight but we had a little time to kill so we wandered in and out of a few more boutiques. off to the airport we realized, sadly, that time had sprung forward though, and we were going to be sitting at the airport waiting for our original flight for about two hours. ah well.
there's always airport shopping.
i heart new york.
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