I think my subconscious goal every morning is to dress like a mermaid.  Or maybe just some kind of mythical creature in general.  But with a gorgeous necklace like this can you really blame me?

So.  It’s election year.  I think they planned so that it would fall on the same year as the Olympics.  You know, so everyone’s in good spirits before they get all pissed off.  In New York it’s also Fashion Week.  Something I forgot to pay attention to because I was too busy pretending that summer would never end (I’m still in denial — today was the hottest it’s been in weeks.  Ask my sweat glands.)  So we’ve got the Presidential Election and Fashion Week.  Ironic that the two should come to the forefront of my attention at the same time as they have nothing to do with each other.  I mean, Hillary’s pantsuit (and I’m sure Palin’s, too) isn’t exactly screaming avant-garde.  But I guess that’s what’s going on in the world and since I don’t live under a rock, it’s hard to avoid.

Fashion and politics.  When something goes wrong in one, children ask why Mommy used to dress like a slutty disco queen.  When the other takes an unfortunate turn, they ask why Daddy isn’t coming home.  One provokes a cringe, the other an ache.  I think this is why I don’t understand politics and government.  They are not beautiful things.  They are entities that were, somewhere along the way, deemed necessary to preserve order.  I don’t know if it all started with good intentions or was immediately about taking over the world, but in my 20something years of observation, it hasn’t looked good.

In politics there is a huge division of people.  They are only unified when they are for something and against something else (did you NOT hear the crowd at the Republican National Convention?)  Fashion, like the Olympics, unites people.  It brings countries, cultures, and people together to celebrate beautiful work.  And it’s subjective, which creates tastes and style and allows for individuality.  I don’t see that in politics.  Differences aren’t celebrated.  I see red and blue.  Might as well be black and white.

Now, I don’t follow politics all that much, just as I don’t follow fashion trends (I set the trends, duh).  So when I look at this election and there is a big, huge war (apologies for the double positive there) in the middle of it that has put the world into such a sorry state and neither candidate plans on pulling out of it because they can’t, because it’s an issue of national security, it’s quite disheartening.  If we just put down the guns, put our hands up, and said, “We just want to help you be the best you can be, take it or leave it,” do you think they’d gun us down?  Well, I don’t know if they would, but fighting fire with fire doesn’t stifle the flames.  Then again, aren’t we over there for oil?  So maybe we don’t really want to *help* them so much as *control* them.

My prediction?  If we continue along the same course, self-destruction.  Just like every powerful civilization in the history of the world.  I just hope we leave something behind as cool as the pyramids.

A while ago I read this book.  Now I’m reading this book which has led me to listen to this song on repeat (as I will so often do when I need something to really sink in).  And if you head on over to the Wikipedia page for that song and scroll down to Legacy, you’ll see some interesting facts on just how popular that song is.  Now what I would like to know is why the fuck does everyone on the planet have such a thick skull?  The ideas provoked here obviously resonate with anyone who has half a brain, yet nothing really seems to change.

It was a few years ago that I rejected the idea of religion and any superior being that so much of the world puts their faith into.  Though they are all founded on human morality, they have been polluted with meaningless rituals and lists of rights and wrongs.  Who is to decide what is moral?  We’re all human.  It doesn’t make sense that any one person or group of people know what is ethical.  Human nature and common sense should be able to dictate those things.

As of recent, I’ve decided that this also applies to governments because whatever we’re doing, it’s not working.  There’s too much greed and, in effect, violence for someone to look at the state of the world as a whole and say, “Yes, this is okay.  Let’s keep it up.”  No way.  I don’t accept that.  It’s like we’re fighting for peace.  How the fuck can you fight for peace?  I have an idea on how to achieve that goal:  Stop.  Fighting.

That being said, I know we live in a materialistic world and I am most definitely guilty of *needing* those shiny new toys.  That glowing apple icon?  Gets me every time.  Four inch patent leather mary janes?  Sold.  $100 haircuts so that my hair is one less source of stress in my life?  Done.  Luxury condos in Battery Park City?  Give me a few years, I’ll get there.  I am certainly not above desiring all of the pretty things of the world, and New York isn’t exactly the city of frugality.  It’s tough to not want everything.

However, college/living abroad/traveling/moving apartments every year has taught me that there is a lot of unnecessary crap in our lives.  After living in Italy for 4 months and taking home the only two suitcases that I had brought with me (though stuffed with plenty more than I came with), I realized that minimalism makes life a lot easier.  My pack rat days were over.  Only take what you need, leave the rest for someone else.

In the last 6 months or so, that zen mentality of mine got lost in a mess of cool new tech products, clothes, restaurants, bars, vacations; basically all things excessive and expensive.  I’ve wanted and needed the latest and greatest and wouldn’t be satisfied until I had it.  That is, until I took a spill off my bike a couple of weeks ago.

At first glance all seemed fine.  Minor scrapes to myself, the bike was okay, and though everything fell out of my bag, it all seemed like it took the crash well.  Then I got to work, took out my laptop, and realized the case was totally warped and the latch broken.  Uh oh.  After turning it on, the machine seemed to be working properly.  Within a couple of days, though, that was not the case: the DVD drive was eating discs, the camera wasn’t being recognized, and the trackpad button felt weird to the touch.  Upon inspection at the Apple store, I was informed that yes, those things collapsed from the impact and no, the fact that I bought the machine 6 months ago doesn’t matter because the warranty has been invalidated.  The price tag for repair?  $1200.

However, the hard drive, screen, keyboard, and trackpad are not busted.  Everything I need to do my job is fine.  And for that, for not having to replace a $2000+ machine, for not even having to actually get anything repaired, I woke back up.  I remembered that this is just a tool that allows me to do the things that I do.  I’m taking my ever-so-graceful spill as a big shove from the universe to get my head on straight.  Yes, it’s sad that I can no longer take stupid Photobooth snapshots when I’m procrastinating, and it’s sad that my new machine is now a used machine, but such is life.

I’m probably getting far too big a lesson out of this incident, but if you know me, you know how attached I am to my pretty aluminum baby.  My baby that was dropped on it’s head and now has some permanent brain damage and a couple of scars to show for it.  But I’ve relearned my lesson: that you have to appreciate what you have.  Otherwise nothing will ever be good enough and you’ll turn into a greedy little bastard.

As the days are obviously getting shorter, which means we’re getting that much closer to the dreadful ice and snow, I’ve been trying to snap lots of photos of the city in the midst of its summertime goodness.  Oh, I know what you’re thinking, “Fall fashion is so great!”  Not as great as sundresses and sandals.  And definitely not as great as this watermelon.  Fuck fall; I’m rejecting it this year.

They were friends since Kindergarten, and though they don’t see each other all that often anymore, they still understand one another in a way that is only possible when you’ve known someone since you were barely out of diapers.  While the other kids were learning how to share their toys and say “I’m sorry,” the girls were busy playing dress-up and talking about boys.  The two still aren’t all that great at sharing and are stubborn to apologize, but their sense of style and dating skills are off the charts.

Not that I ever throw out my old boots.  When they’re falling apart I bring them to my shoe guy who breathes new life into them.  My boots are similar to cats in that they have many lives.  Zoomed out version of The Nazi Tulip.

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I spent this 4th of July weekend in the Hamptons at an 8 bedroom “house” that a friend rented for the month (apparently the owner of the place is President of Capitol Records — he was there the first night, but didn’t go out with us because he had to go sign Lenny Kravitz… ridiculous, no?).

Upon arriving 5 hours later than planned, three pasty-white city girls stumble into a house full of tall, thin, exotic beauties from Miami.  Inferiority complex?  Just a bit.  They were all very nice, it was just startling and unexpected.  Plus, I do much better in a room full of men than women.  Big groups of chicks are intimidating in themselves.  Which is one of the many reasons I’m glad that I wasn’t born with a penis; it’s better to be part of the flock of wolves that try to circumvent it.

So after securing a bedroom and lounging poolside for the rest of the afternoon, we got ourselves together and headed to Trata* where my friend’s boyfriend is a bartender.  The scene was as follows: blond, botoxed, middle-aged women dressed like 18 year olds clutching their designer bags and towering on $500 heels.  Labels were abundant.  It was a restaurant full of this.  It was terrifying.  And it was a reality check.

The next day we prowled around Sag Harbor where two girls gave us the card in the photograph above.  The name of the store they were promoting made me laugh.  The Hamptons really are about labels.  Even during the day in this little beach town there was enough Lacoste and J. Crew to make my closet full of Urban Outfitters and thrift duds throw up a little bit.

Best part of the trip?  A guy asked my friend for her number to show her a good time the next time she was in town.  This is the dialogue that ensued:

“There won’t be a next time.”

“Oh no?  Why is that?”

“It’s not really my scene.  These people are on another planet.”

“I used to not like it either, but you just have to ignore them… blah blah blah lots of talk about how great the Hamptons are… it gets better.”

“When does it get better?  After you become one of them?”

Basically I realized that yes, I do want to make a shitload of money (who doesn’t?), but there is no way I will ever become part of that crowd.  Though they make a statment - a very extravagant statement - designer labels aren’t something that I ever want to be commonplace in my life.  Fashion isn’t about having THE thousand dollar dress.  It’s about creativity: taking expensive things, cheap things, new things, and old things and making yourself look good.  At least that’s how I see it.

*I would like to note that the food and drinks at Trata are amazing.  If you go early (7 or so), you can miss the Hamptonite crowd and enjoy an amazing Greek dinner.

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I took this in Nieuwmarkt square in Amsterdam.  This was a much more low-key, out of the way spot with far less tourists than the rest of the city.  They had a small open air market where I bought a sweet Cornelian ring.  This hippy chick was selling some pretty cool jewelry, as well, but I found her badass bike decked out in flowers much more interesting.  As well as her dreadlocks.  If I ever move over there, I will turn into one dirty, dreadlocked girl.

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One of my favorite things to do is to go into Sephora and get all lightheaded picking out a new perfume when I can no longer smell the old on on me anymore.  I recently switched to Pure Poison by Dior that I picked up first because, well, I judge a book by it’s cover.  I liked the packaging.  And it’s got those sexy oriental scents I’m so attracted to.  And come to find out, I don’t think the marketing is all that off.  I have reason to believe it really does have powers of seduction.  But then again, seduction isn’t making someone do what they don’t want to do. Seduction is enticing someone into doing what they secretly want to do already.*

*That quote is totally stolen and I feel it necessary to give due credit.

Peeves:

1. Labels and love are the reasons to come to New York?  FUCK.  THAT.  Had I known that - had I been looking for that - I never would have come. As far as I’m concerned, this is the most difficult place in the world to have a lasting relationship. And most of the people I know can barely afford to eat in order to pay their rent, much less splurge on thousand dollar handbags.
2. Some of the cheese just got to be too much. The “love” keychain made me roll my eyes quite a few times. Especially when it turned out to be the password to get to Big. Yuck.
3. P.S. ~ Miss Louise found her love in St. Louis and moved back to the Midwest. If you’re confused as to why this is a peeve, see #1.
4. There’s a Metrocard in Carrie’s bag when she is returning books to the library. In the entirety of all six seasons, Carrie has only taken the subway once: when she was stuck in traffic and needed to get downtown to ring the bell at the stock market (episode To Market, To Market). Why on earth would she start taking the train now when she is A. more successful and B. has Big’s driver at her disposal?
5. With said Metrocard, she could’ve gotten to Miranda’s apartment much faster on New Year’s Eve when the streets were clogged with cabs. But instead she ran 100 blocks on icy sidewalks in pajamas and heels. Cute, yes, but completely unnecessary. Though I do understand that sometimes you need those hundred blocks to clear your head and put yourself in a better place than when you walked out the door, I’m not sure this was the case here.

Loves (and these will far outnumber the bothers):

1. Theme numero 1: Happiness. I loved when Charlotte said that yes, she was in fact happy in her life every single day. It seems like so many people are content with being happy most of the time, or even some of the time. It should be every single day. Otherwise you are settling. Don’t settle.
2. Theme numero 2: Forgiveness. Carrie says to Miranda, “You’re asking me to forgive you after 3 days and you won’t forgive Steve after 6 months?” Miranda replies, “It’s not the same thing.” Carrie says, “It’s forgiveness.” Thank you, Carrie! Forgive and forget and move on with your life. You’re only hurting yourself by holding onto anger. This also means that you can never again use it against the person. Otherwise you haven’t really forgiven, have you?
3. Theme numero 3: Friendship. Obviously the whole movie revolves around this one, but it’s important. When you’re having a tough time in life, sometimes you need someone to show up with a bottle of vodka. Or make you eat when you have no appetite. Or make you get up and get dressed and get out of the house when you really don’t want to. Sometimes your friends do know what’s best for you.
4. Theme numero 4: Love. The biggest one of all (no pun intended, really). Through most of this movie I sat there thinking that I never want to get married, never even want to get involved with anyone ever again. The heartache can be so overwhelming when things go awry. The thing is, though, that you always surface from it. It takes time, but the sadness and loneliness dissipate and then you learn something. In this case, Miranda and Steve learned they couldn’t let their lives get in the way of their marriage. Carrie and Big learned they didn’t need to put on a show for everyone else when all they wanted was each other. Samantha learned she wasn’t meant for relationships regardless of how much she loved someone. And Charlotte, well I think she had love figured out a long time ago.
5. Carrie’s pink sparkly cell phone was duct taped together.
6. The whole Saint Louise thing was cute. Especially when Carrie had to turn off the movie Meet Me in St. Louis because of Judy Garland’s love song. A little bit of cynicism can go a long way in a movie about love.
7. The product placement made me laugh. All of the norms were there (ahem, Manolo Blahnik), but the Vitamin Waters on the chairs at the fashion show? Hi-larious.
8. The Vogue photo shoot. My wet dream realized.
9. The fact that Carrie wants to write about found love and how to keep it. Sequel anyone??
10. Standford Blatch and Anthony Marentino are friends. ‘Nough said.
11. The closet Big builds for Carrie. I would have sex with it if I could. It breaks my heart that she doesn’t get to use it.
12. Carrie’s redecorated apartment. Especially when she’s shopping for desks (”If you have the right desk, the words will come.”)
13. Samantha’s humping puppy. So appropriate.
14. Sushi.
15. The Cinderella thread. Carrie tells Charlotte’s daughter that things don’t always work out like that. In the end Big slips her foot into her gorgeous blue Manolos. We’ll call it Cheese Well Done.
16. The movie ended zooming out from the center of the Meatpacking District - my favorite neighborhood in this most glorious city - catching glimpses of Soho House and Hotel Gansevoort. Two of my favorite places because, in addition to other reasons, I’ve had some very awesome incidents there as of late.

I’m sure I could go on, but this is already a rather long list. There was a good portion of the movie that I sat there thinking, “I don’t like this. It’s making me too sad.” But then they made Charlotte shit her pants. I came away from it smiling. I think they did great justice to the show. Just like Carrie’s first book dedication, it’s for hopeful women everywhere.