Style in Print: Stacy London Book Signing in DC

Yes, I'm posting this way in advance.

Yes, I'm crazy excited. Super-crazed-fan-level excited. I'm admittedly a bit of a celebrity junkie. I also admit to watching loads of reality TV, particularly style and cooking shows, and reading far less than I really like to. Let's just say that it's where I "am" right now in mental capacity.

That being said, Stacy London has captured my attention from all sorts of levels.

The Truth About Style, Stacy London's new book, via

First, there's the streak. I'm so glad to see that it's on her new book cover. I was very sad when I met her earlier this year (see how The Bean captured her attention, here) and saw that, while her new redder color was lovely, it disguised the streak. I love the streak. It's a beautiful, graceful, elegant statement of owning her own appearance.

Second, I happen to agree with virtually everything she and her partner-in-style crime, Clinton, say on What Not to Wear. Sure, I'd love it if they pushed the fashion envelope a little more once in a while, but let's face it, their TV clients aren't ready for envelope pushing.

Third, I have immense respect for entrepeneurs of most types, and even more respect for someone who's risen up out of themselves to build a career and a life from their passion. Never mind the being immensely successful at it. Which is what she's done, and resulting in Style for Hire.

Fourth, there's "The Rest of the Story." I don't read non-fiction, usually, but I do read biographies and memoirs. I am chomping at the bit to read this one, The Truth About Style. Because, you see, I think the story is likely a really important one. From what I understand, Stacy uses this book to talk about self - and how she found her self after struggles Just Like Us, so to speak - through the lens of style. She shares her battles with weight and anorexia, among other things. The more time I spend in this online style world of ours, and the older The Bean Gets (and uncannily recites virtually every single commercial she sees on TV word for word), the more important I think it is for us as a World to understand these stories. So thank you, Ms. London (as I've taught The Bean to call her), in advance for sharing your story.

So. Now that I've written a post that might very well be flagged as blatant a.ss-kissing, when in reality it is simply immense respect for a Woman Who's Made It Her Own, on to the details. I've bought my tickets. With a book. Have you?

What: Stacy London

Where: Sixth & I Historic Synagogue, Washington DC (can you believe I've never been? They have so many good shows there, and I've never been)

When: Thursday, October 4, 2012, Doors opening up at 6:00pm, Show starting at 7:00pm

Why: See above, please, so I don't have to repeat myself in the most psychophant of ways.

Tickets range from $18 (one ticket, no book) to $42 (2 tickets + book)

You can bet I'll be saving that signed copy for 10 years from now when it may just be important for The Bean to read it.

PS - Thanks to Allie of Wardrobe Oxygen for alerting me (how could I have missed it?!)

PPS - Check out the list of events at Sixth & I. Um, Molly Ringwald? Hel-LO? If that week weren't already too full with the DSS and maybe one other night (yes, 2 events is massive in our house), I'd be there in a second. Talk about a childhood/teenage idol. Um, she's a redhead, people!

Weekend Style: Woodland Wedding

This will be the fastest post in the West.

Western Pennsylvania, that is.

It's still insane at work - it'll be that way for a while - so while I'd love to give you a "What I Packed" (or plan to pack, in this case) for our weekend away near Nemacolin, it's just not happening. It's busy enough (and I'm working late enough tonight) that this control-freaky mama is "letting" H pack for the kids today.

[Watch DC Celine attempt to not say a single word of advice or guidance. Better known as Watch DC Celine bite her tongue off because she can't let go.]

Anywho.

We're headed out for a family wedding near the fabled Pennsylvania resort. And while there is not a single drop of blood shared between any of our two families, they are. The groom is my MIL's godson (with his twin sister). The groom's parents are our wedding godparents (it's an Orthodox thing). There will be laughter, raucous laughter. There will be stories. There will be music (the groom is also a musician, and his band is playing at a Friday night BBQ), and there will be dancing. It will be The Beans' first wedding. No 1 is, shall we say, fairly excited. There's no stopping her wearing her most fanciest Easter dress, despite this being a woodland wedding.

Anywho No. 2.

It should be calm. It should be serene. And as tempted as I am by the activities (would horseback riding trump surfing, you think?) and the spa, I think I'll just ponder this picture, sit on the front porch of the cabin we're in for the weekend, and breathe.

Picture via

Weekend Style: The Best Kind of Exhaustion

As I put together the pictures from this weekend, I got tired just remembering. But it was the best kind of weekend. H and I had a solid date night, we had lots and lots of family time, and Mama got some alone time and some girlfriend time.

Now I need a nap.

1. Friday night, I used that sparkly liquid liner in one of my last birchbox deliveries. It was KISS/Motley Crue, after all. 2. KISS. 3. Ready for a Saturday morning swim.

1. The artist at work in her studio. 2. Mama time = new makeup, including 2 new Bobbi Brown red lipsticks. 3. Neon pink patent Sperry heels I tried to convince my girlfriend to buy at Loehmann's because they weren't in my size.

1. My girlfriend and I guffawed over The Most Absurd Label Ever. 2. Gold sequins (and the wrong undergarments). 3. Soft ballerina sparkle (that I wore to the show later that night with a New Red Jacket).

1. Gap 1969 ankle zipper legging jeans in tomato. Size 6. 2. A fantastic show, and humongous pride (Sheila was one of my dearest friends. She was the best. By far.) 3. Sunday morning.

1. Peach and blueberry picking at our favorite Virginia outpost, Hartland Orchard. 2. Stopping to smell the petunias in Middleburg, VA. 3. New skinny finds, old favorites that fit again, and a couple of pair I'm really hoping a good tailor can save.

Favorite Post: The Style Blogger and The Jersey Shore

I've almost literally got a paper chain countdown going in the office right now. I love my new Day Job, but I am also exceptionally ready for a break. My weekend of:

Friday night work
Saturday staffing The Bean's First Recital Dress Rehearsal
Sunday staffing The Bean's First Recital Dress Rehearsal
Big Family Dinner after The Bean's First Recital Dress Rehearsal
Drive to Jiffy Lube Live for WMZQ Fest's Miranda Lambert performance
Stress over a day o' deadlines today

Has me desperate for June 15th, when we load up and ship out for down tha shore. So here's a favorite post from last summer, in which I contemplate the balance between stylish and not caring. I've been prepping all spring on pinterest, but I'm still looking forward to the nights of wandering the promenade in our little beach town that are cool enough for a Big Old Sweatshirt.

Healthy Style: Using the "Set Point"

I'd planned a post about our lovely Memorial Day weekend, complete with self-indulgent Instagram shots. Then I blogged over in Weight Watchers land, and, as seems to be the case more often now, I thought some of you might find my #healthyme story from this week useful. I've gotten a lovely, supportive response from folks about this journey I'm on, so I hope this might inspire or sustain someone out there. If not, skip it, and I'll return to the regularly scheduled fashion and style programming soon. Promise.

Last week I was struggling, and TrainerJen told me about the "set point." It's a fitness term for when folks losing weight hit a point at which the body (and mind) want to revert to the old ways.

It's a decision point.

It's a make-it-or-break-it point.

At least that's how I'm looking at it.

Now, if I struggle with it for a while, will my #healthyme journey go downhill? Nope. Might it be stalled for a while? Sure. Possible. But the truth of the matter is that it'll still be my #healthyme journey.

I'm not getting off of this #healthyme journey train, people. Not gonna do it.

Instead, I'm going to:

• keep tracking everything that passes my lips
• make mindful choices about what I ingest (which could mean fruit, or could mean chocolate; as long as it's mindful)
• schedule - and use - time for activity
• get my rear end into a pool and regain my swimmer's body completely
• stay active while we're down tha shore in the end of June
• not eat 2 dinners like I did on Sunday

The first of two dinners Sunday night, at the Lobster Loft, with the whole family. Lobster (her request), pasta, and french fries. Which is what he had for breakfast that morning, too. Mama had red wine, salad, prime rib, baked potato, and sauteed summer veggies.

OK. So that last one isn't ex-ACT-ly on the positive, mindful path I'm chosing for myself, but it was, quite frankly, a powerful moment to observe. Here's what I noticed:

• I ate a filling, but not sustaining, mildly indulgent breakfast of a blueberry pancake and some scrapple (rock on, PA!)
• I was hungry earlier than if I'd eaten one of my other breakfasts
• I didn't drink water pretty much all day
• I felt really, really good about how easy the 2+ hours of walking The Beans to the playground felt. 2 or 3 months ago, I would've been out of breath
• I ate barely any fruits or vegetables
• I tasted or finished The Beans' food (pizza, hot dog, and "drip saving" licks of ice cream)
• I exercised control at the first dinner, eating only a reasonable amount of the prime rib, only part of the baked potato (neither of which is inherently "bad"), and piled on the salad and veggie sides to compensate for less veggies during the day
• I exercised less control at the second dinner, "going for" dessert after an indulgent (but half) portion of my favorite mussel dish and one of our favorite restaurants (ahem - Mussel Bar Revel - ahem - wild mushroom, cream, lardons + speculoos ice cream, mocha ice cream, sour cherry sorbet - eep!)
• I drank 2 drinks: red wine and beer
• The next day was doubly hard because I was exhausted and "food hungover" while driving The Beans and me back to DC

So what does all of that tell me?

When I finally got around to tracking my food and activity the rest of the weekend (I'd had no access to my trusty e-tools from Sunday morning on), I was horrified. Embarrassed, even. I also kept remembering bits and pieces of the day's "nutrition" (such as The Bean's half hot dog). H had a similar experience.

My observations tell me that I need to drink more water, eat more fruits and veggies, and not finish The Beans' food. They also tell me that I apparently equate "down that shore" with "indulgence."

I was left on Monday night with a desperate feeling. I was desperate to plan activity and "earn back" some of the damage. I frantically tweeted and facebooked my intent to get in the pool, looking for company and moral support. Truth be told, my plan to do a yoga video last night? Failed. Well, rather, decided not to do it. I realized, through some lovely support I got from my online friends here, that 2 days of indulgence don't ruin a #healthyme journey. But I did go to yoga this morning, and I'm going to try and sneak in 30 minutes of swimming between work and The Bean's first dance recital rehearsal. I'm a little scared of the swimming, despite almost literally growing up in a pool, and find my mind attempting excuses (you don't have a racing suit, you don't have a cap, you don't have goggles, you don't have enough time).

I will swim today. I will earn more activity points (literally countering the negative food points I’ve got at the moment for the week), and still end up negative for the week, but let’s just say it won’t be nearly as bad as it looked on Monday night.

And I will have conquered a "set point" that my mind is attempting with all its little mind heart can find. And I will change the way I view our "down tha shore" time from "indulgent" to a place where we practice the cleaner, more mindful living that we've started.

And I can't wait.

Style Challenge: Running in Central Park, Lion's Breath, and Spiders

I’ve been pretty mushy-touchy-feely lately. Or at least it feels that way. There’s a lot around this #healthyme thing. There’s a lot around a lifestyle change that comes, in part, from a Brand New Job (ok, 2 months old now, but whatevs). There’s a lot that comes from the waking up that happens to parents as their beans (sniff sniff) grow and change and such.

But enough of that. Spurned, honestly, by my revealing my yogic tears from the other day, and then again by by my yet-again comment to a friend about how and why I’m now not afraid to try anything, even spiders, when put on my plate, I’ve been thinking (some more). Then my nail color choice at my oh-my-goodness-I-have-15-minutes-and-peeling-nails-are-disgusting manicure just cemented the whole thought process.

I think we need to take more chances. We need to let go and run like Phoebe.

Let’s back it up and I’ll explain myself.

Yogic Tears: A lot of us work out. A lot of us get to a point where we just can’t go any more - whether in lifting the weight, running another mile, or heck, I’ll admit it, going to a spin class. Ugh. Conceptually disgusting.

Nevertheless, we all hit that wall. What I’ve found, though, is that while yoga is physical training, and I can certainly “hurt so good” on the day after, the emotional chance I’m taking with some of what’s in the class is more useful. I’m taking a chance on going deeper, breathing deeper, and letting go. It’s only when “I think I can’t” that I can’t. It’s only when I block myself that I stop.

So I’m learning to take a chance, do a lion’s breath, and see if I can actually get into up dog after chattaranga. (Translation: do a really hard thing that my body doesn’t want to do - or is it my mind?)

Lion's Breath. Best Thing Since Sliced Bread. Photo: Lazy Lizard Yoga

Spiders on My Plate: I choked on a scallop when I was little. 5, maybe? Maybe older? Not sure. But I still remember it. And from that day forward, the only seafood I would eat was frozen fish sticks and Mrs. Paul’s crabcakes. I blocked it out entirely, missing out on crab feasts, fish frys, and gorgeous dishes in foreign lands. So eventually, I willed myself to start trying it, mostly prompted by having to try it when at someone else’s table. I made slow progress, but still would rarely choose it on a menu.

Then H and I started to fancy ourselves “foodies,” earned more money, and started to go to places like Marcel’s, Zaytinya, Tosca, and Komi, where incredibly talented chefs can coax a delicious meal out of any possible thing. So why, then, would I go to sit at Johnny Monis’ table, where he’s created a phenomenal meal, and say “I don’t eat X?” Why? The first time I sat at Komi, I decided to Just Eat. I would place myself in his hands and just eat. I trusted him.

I enjoyed every single morsel, including things I Don’t Eat. Or Didn’t Eat. Like, essentially, essentially, sushi. Thanks to the 3-way crudo of scallop I happily ate there, I now can’t wait for my next sushi meal. Since then, I will try anything. I will also assume I’ll adore it and want to eat more. Even, as my friend shared a story of the spider stew he ate (while drunk, mind you) in the Phillipines, spiders on my plate.

Kaz Sushi Sea Scallop Sashimi. Photo: Epicuryan.

Color By the Bean: Here’s where we come back to style. You know, the subject of this blog? Today, after a meeting an hour away from my office, I decided to stop in the local nail place in the hopes that they’d have a spot. They did. I picked my color. I picked a deep teal with an aquatic name. Bad blogger, I don’t remember the name, except that I’m fairly certain it’s and Essie polish. But that’s not important. What’s important is that I love it. I love the depth, I love the dark, and I love how, even though it’s dark, it’s springy.

And a year ago I would not be typing this with teal fingers and neon orange toes.

Last summer, during our month-long stint down tha shore, I decided I’d go to the local nail place every week, and that I’d take The Bean. It was the beach, my nails would be on display, and, well, it’s Jersey. The first week, we walked in. “Pick your color,” they said.

I decided then and there that I’d let The Bean pick my colors. It was the beach, my nails would be on display, and, well, it’s Jersey. I even let her pick out matching nail art.

I loved it. I actually couldn’t stop looking at my nail art. I no longer have a picture of it, if I ever did, and it’s not really important. Truth be told, I would never have asked for the swirls. They’re, you know, not, um, stylish. Now, of course, they’re all over the pinterest boards, with 1000 DIY tutorials using tape and small brushes. People, I did nail art last summer.

Through The Bean’s refined color selection palette, I also ended up with yellow toes. Not a soft lemony yellow, and not this year’s neon yellow, but Just Plain Yellow. I was convinced they’d look ridiculous on my redheaded fair skinned feet.

I was wrong. The Bean was right. Yellow toes + nude peeptoes + grey trousers = love.

Point is, oh Infintessimal Readership, that we all need to harken back to Phoebe’s advice and run like a kid. We need to let go of whatever assumptions or presumptions are holding us back - whether it’s on an emotional level, an epicurean plane, or in our closet. Just do it. Now is the time - there are no rules anymore.

So take a chance. Do me a favor and pick one thing you’re convinced you could never wear, be it neon or peplum or skinny jeans or prints. Wear it. Wear it like you’re 4 and one half years old and you’ve gleefully pulled it out of your dressup bin and styled it like only a 4 and one half year old can do.

Then wear it outside.

Favorite Post: Rockin' It Old Skool

I had grand plans for a lovely post on our date night at Mussel Bar Revel. I promise, it was fantastic, and I promise a post soon. But like at the end of last week, Real Life got in the way, and between a day job deadline today, the Beans' ballet & music classes & meeting Stacy London on Saturday (thanks, Allie!*), preparing traditional Romanian dishes and table for Easter No. 2 (Orthodox Easter was this weekend), a visit from my Mommy, and a long-scheduled date night to see H's hometown favorite, Blues Traveler, I just couldn't find the time to sit down and write it up.

So will you forgive me if I give you yet another Favorite Post? Way back when, when The Bean was still teeny, I posted about trying to find my style mojo again - with a Metallica T. Trust me, after last night's phenomenal concert, I considered one of my 2 remaining concert Ts ('tallica or The Wedding Present) with my pinstripes, but both shirts are Very Fitted. Give 'em a month.

So while you read about my 'tallica T, I'll knock out another proposal. If I still haven't posted a new one by the time you're done, borrow some of my inspiration from last night's concert, and go rock out to whatever is yours right now. Me? I'm missing John Popper and the boys in my collection, so I'll go country with some old school Randy. Randy Travis, that is.

*Allie of Wardrobe Oxygen invited me and The Bean to join her and her E to meet the Grande Dame of style consulting. It's not up quite yet this morning, but I'm sure she'll have it up soon.

I've got lots of thoughts brewing on this lil' ol' blog here, and while I mull them over, I thought I'd pull some of my favorite posts from the past 6+ years (yes, I'm an Old Blogger).


If you have thoughts, ideas, questions, Style Dilemmas, please do send them along! I'd love to hear what you want to read!

Style Dilemma Solved: Tar-ZHAY run

Last Thursday, I was working hard on a proposal with a Friday deadline. I was taking Friday off. You know, Good Friday and all. I was also, therefore, staring at a screen, editing my eyeballs off. Almost literally.

So about 1:30, while I was waiting for someone else to edit a piece or review it or track down missing information, I decided to take a treat break.

Yes, yes, I'm doing #healthyme, big time. And yes, I looked up my options at Starbucks before I went. I was a good #healthyme-er. Planning ahead, as in "I looked at the points values (or calories or fat or whatever else you're tracking) for all of the mini-treats at Starbucks, and the mini pink donut is my best choice and won't blow it for the day." Coffee and a donut would be the perfect antidote to my proposal eyes.

But I was tired, and I accidentally pulled into the left-hand turn lane at the light, which would take me past Target first, then Starbucks.

I'm sure I need toothpaste for the beans. And those Easter baskets. And looooove those dollar bins for their socks (seriously, the best source of socks for the beans).

And, well, hey! there's a Starbucks right there.

But wouldn't you know it, they didn't have any pink mini-donuts. All they had in "mini" was the red velvet whoopie pie, which, though delicious, I'm quite certain is not as good a choice as the pink mini-donut (cream cheese icing as filling, anyone?). So I got a tall bold (I'm a stick-your-spoon-up-straight-in-the-coffee kind of girl), and passed on the treat.

And then I compensated with a basketful of Tar-ZHAY purchases.

I did buy socks and Easter dollar toys for the beans. I also bought socks for myself. Neon argyle ones. They're awesome.

If only Tar-ZHAY would show everything online, you could see their awesomeness.

I browsed the belts and hats, not finding anything in the purses. Big floppy navy hat that can double as an Easter bonnet and a beach hat? Jump in my cart, please! Mr. jute and leather loopy-type belt that can replace the wide brown belt Bean No. 2 seems to have confiscated and hidden (he loves, loves, loves my belt drawer)? Join that floppy hat, please! 3 pair of less than $15 sunglasses I can afford to lose or have snapped by teeny hands? Yup.

I also, despite my ban on buying anything until I get to goal weight, splurged (emotionally, more than anything else) and grabbed a purple-on-purple striped henley in...ta-dah! Medium! There was also a bold print dress I grabbed in a Large (bodycon + juniors department = Large, thankyouverymuch). No, I didn't try them on. I didn't even try them on until the next morning.

But guess what? They fit! Both of them! I ended up wearing the henley (it has those great buttoned up half-sleeves) with a pair of tobacco cords on my crazy-long solo drive down tha shore. I could wear it every day, I love it's fitted comfortable casual sleekness so much.

The dress, you ask? Well, it fits. It fits nicely. It fits so nicely that I wore it out on Saturday's date to the new Robert Wiedmaier outpost, Mussel Bar Revel. With my new lillybee (yes, I have another pair) Kristins and their soft, supple neutral leather, I felt hot. Really hot.

Oh...and the pink mini-donut? Gone. Unfortunately replaced by a peep and some jelly beans, but gone from my mind. Treat v. style dilemma conquered.

Tar-ZHAY run by dcceline

Favorite Post: The Perfect Honor

If you follow me on twitter, you've seen #wearing tweets where I mention vintage pieces. They're usually my late grandmother's. I inherited a lot from each of my grandmothers, and miss each of them every day. Back after I lost my second grandmother, I posted about part of how my family dealt with her passing.

I've got lots of thoughts brewing on this lil' ol' blog here, and while I mull them over, I thought I'd pull some of my favorite posts from the past 6+ years (yes, I'm an Old Blogger).

If you have thoughts, ideas, questions, Style Dilemmas, please do send them along! I'd love to hear what you want to read!

It's Beginning to Look a Lot Like...

Christmas. Everywhere...in New York, in DC, on the street, at home. I'm a lucky, lucky girl with a wonderful family, friends that stand by me no matter what, and, well, quite frankly, everything a girl could wish for. Pretty much ever.

So while I've yet to do those #BeanintheBigApple posts I promised due to CrazyWork, a cold, and an ear infection (all mine), I thought I'd share a little bit of what Christmas looks like to me.

Christmas isn't Christmas in our house without varse (Romanian sauerkraut). And we through in some roasted eggplant and pepper spread for good measure (zakuska). Sarmale (stuffed cabbage) and cozonac (Christmas bread) to come.

The Bean and I at the Betsey Johnson-decorated Eloise tree at The Plaza

Christmas parties = sequin skirts and crazy high heels

Silliness and joy

Ice skating in Central Park

First night of Christmas decorating

Our very own Christmas tree that we decorated ourselves in our room

(and pardon the craptastic Paint collage with unerasable white space on the right. one of these days i'll learn how to do these graphics things right.

#BeanintheBigApple Preview

As I hinted at on twitter this morning, I can't wait to work on the #BeanintheBigApple posts (it'll probably a few of them!). I did, however, promise The Bean that she could help me work on the pictures for "my website." She was, you know, the official photographer. As you'll see, she's a picture-snapping-fiend, complete with photog stance.

If you followed our adventures this weekend, we had an absolute blast, from running to the Metro in DC Friday morning (we just made our 8am Amtrak in time) to the Daphne Guinness and The Great Designers exhibits at the Museum at FIT Friday to ice skating in Central Park and 5th Avenue window "shopping" on Saturday to the Pier 6 playground Sunday morning. If you missed the tweetpics over the weekend, there's a little preview on the DC Celine facebook page.

As for whether The Bean liked New York or not? The pics tell the story.

[I was going to put an adorable teaser pic in here, but either Chrome or Blogger is unhappy with my pictures at the moment, so you'll just have to go to facebook until we do the posts.]

And we've picked out a nice brownstone for sale in Carroll Gardens, Brooklyn. We'll send you our change of address soon.

The Bean Takes New York: The Plan

I couldn't be more excited. And I might or might not be using my coffee and lunch breaks to plot - ahem - plan our weekend.

I'm taking The Bean to New York City Friday.

She's excited, too. She's asked me every night, "Mama, are we going to New York tonight?" and "Are we going to stay in a hotel?"

Not yet, darling, and nope, with a friend in Brooklyn. She's an artist, like you.

It's hard to plan a trip for a 4-year-old. She is, in her own way, incredibly sophisticated. But she's also 4. And 4-year-olds only have so much capacity and patience for anything, even things they love and about which they're incredibly excited. So with the help of H and my friend TheArtist (our hostess), we've devised a Fashiony-Christmasy-Pizza-Filled-Take-on-New-York.

Here's our plan. We obviously reserve the right to amend it based on whim and whining.

Friday morning train, on which we'll study a map of the city and maybe pictures of the things we'll see. We will also have sketchbooks and colored pencils, cameras, and a lunchbox full of lunch.



After a subway ride over to Brooklyn to say a long-overdue hello to TheArtist and her family and deposit our things, we'll hop back on the subway to Chelsea for Daphne Guinness at The Museum at FIT. We will sketch and take notes and drool and ooh and ahh.

Then I think we'll wander the neighborhood a bit, stopping where we like, and absolutely finding a place for a treat or an early dinner - or both. The Doughnut Plant, though fairly far down, is a tempting option. If I hear back from my hometown friend, who happens to be the Godfather of Hipsters (so says the Times), we may try the original Somer outpost, Freemans. Or pizza. She loves pizza.

After our night in Brooklyn (yes, I've already started playing the Beastie Boys' anthem for her) during which I expect lots of Catching Up After 15 Years Gabbing and much wine, we'll hop back on the subway and do Midtown. We'll go to Rockefeller Center for the tree, and skate, if we can. We'll see the Saks and Bergdorf Goodman and Barney's Christmas windows. We'll lunch at one of the Fancy Restaurants in the Fancy Stores. We'll go to The Met to see their Christmas tree and creche, and maybe another exhibit, if we can manage it.

Subway back to Brooklyn.

TheArtist promises a top secret pizza place in her hood for dinner. Which we will gleefully do, and have the lovely warm craziness that comes from 2 little ones at a restaurant. We parents will have wine.

Sunday, TheArtist suggested a lovely, lovely plan. Brunch or lunch in their 'hood, then Brooklyn Bridge Park. Views (for my budding photographer and her very own camera) and running around in easy Sunday morning fashion. We may sneak in a trip to TheArtist's studio for The Bean, if there's time.

And from there, we'll have to subway back to Penn Station to come home. And we will be sad. But we will have pictures - lots and lots of pictures. And we will go again. Soon. Grandmom and I are already plotting our trip to The Met's Elsa Schiaparelli and Miuccia Prada exhibit in 2012.

If you follow DC Celine on twitter, I will be tweeting throughout the weekend, hashtag #BeanintheBigApple

Style Reboot: Bring it all out

The stylish Elizabeth at So Much to Smile About posted about her carry-all-clutch obsession. Which I wholeheartedly support. She reminded me that I really need to dig out my vintage alligator clutch - an envelope, really - and carry it (yes, that's me, the lady with the alligator purse; if I start ranting about Miss Suzy and a Baby, it's over). It's big enough to carry whatever I need, really, as long as The Beans aren't with me.

Which, of course, got me thinking about what else I need to bring out, repurpose, or remember I have.

One of the style blog clichés is the springtime-clean-your-closet post. Well, I'm not going there. I promise. Because I won't get anywhere near it myself, so I can't and won't in good conscience encourage the Infintessimal Readership to try. But where I will go is: Dig out old favorites.

I don't care if you burrow through piles of unfolded laundry, dump piles of shoe boxes on your head, or Febreeze that sweater you meant to wash 3 months ago (speaking from experience: H is so frustrated with my pile he's almost taken to washing them himself. Almost). Pull out the lovely things you haven't carried, worn, or donned in ages. Chances are, you can wear it with something "on trend" for this spring - or it already is (can't believe I wrote "on trend." crap. did it again.).

So tell us what you plan on bringing out in all its glory - and then do it - and send pics! I promise to post them for all the supportive blogworld to see!

(On an aside, I know that the blogworld can get pretty nasty and catty, but I have to say "Thank You" to all for being so encouraging and supportive as I make The Big Climb back out of the doldrums. Means the world that strangers, ultimately, will cheer a girl on.)

Climbing out of the Doldrums - Check, and almost check

My next steps in the Big Climb?

First was a haircut. Check.

Second was shoe shopping. Almost check.

Wednesday, right after I posted, I picked The Bean up from school and took her to lunch. Because she was having such a lovely time playing with one of her little friends, we invited LittleFriend and HerMama to join us at Kafé Leopold. While the girls climbed all over the banquette, almost behaving, our VeryNiceWaiter tolerated us and the Mamas chatted. We felt positively normal. And the girls had a great time. (oh yes, and they did let us in, despite my absolutely schlumpy duds)

Note to self: go more often. It'll keep me from seriously jonesing Austria. At least for now.

After lunch, we swung by my favorite (as if you couldn't tell, since I wear their shoes almost every day) boutique, simplysoles. And while Miss Kassie wasn't there (off getting the new Richmond location ready for it's opening this weekend!), we did a quick browse, and bought two headbands - one for the bean (which she's worn proudly non-stop since), and one for Mama. I set my sights on a couple of pairs of shoes. Now. Do I take the risk and wait for DSS? Or take the sale prices now? Hmmmm...

Then we dashed off (the Bean nodding off "Mama, I love you" in her carseat) to Franz Sebastian to see Miss Jae. Scrubbed and coiffed, I felt 1001% better. Still do, in fact. We got in a bit of style gossip (have you heard about Erwin?), and The Bean got to have her bob trimmed. Such the little lady. Or Diva, as her sitter calls her. When I asked her later who do you like to do your hair (she's been to H's barber, and MIL's hairdresser, too), she answered "the girl with the team shirt." Jae was wearing a fun sports-jersey-esque top. That's my girl.

So...two more items down, a bunch more to go. Up next?

Get healthy - this will be a long road. But maybe I'll have some extra fruit today. Or even some veggies.

Buy a few pieces I love NOW. Not for the future healthy me, but for the Rubenesque, Now Me - starting that this afternoon - a stolen afternoon jaunt to Friendship Heights, to see if I can get a couple of tops or lightweight sweaters I'm happy in. Even if it's one, it's one more than I have now.

Keep going. Even when I'm distracted or have relapses into UnshoweredWorld, I will get. back. on. the. wagon.

Dreams Do Come True

I'm an incredibly lucky girl.

I have two beautiful children, an amazing husband, and friends and family around me that I'm constantly reminded how amazing they are.

And a girl has dreams.

And they come true.

From my "dealer's" (Malena of the wonderful eponymous boutique) description:

The bag is authentic, had one owner, no dust cover or lock. It is chocolate brown calf skin. I lightened the photos so every tiny scratch is visible. Most you cannot see in real life.

The leather housing of the keys is called the pouchette. The Hermes store in KOP told me to replace the lock and keys is under $150, but problably below $100. It will take a few weeks since it comes from (duh) Paris.

The good news- No broken stitching, no stains, no chipped metal, no missing feet, strap in great condition. Interior is flawless as well. No gold initials of the original owner.

The bad news- No lock, and 2 of the corners need a touch up with brown polish. It is not visible when the bag is sitting on the table. Damage no larger than 1/4 inch. The worst of it is photographed, including the
scratch on the bottom.

For the age and quality of this bag it really is in impressive condition.

I know I shouldn't. I know it's a luxury. And I also know that it's an amazing, wonderful, beautiful thing.

Grace's biography was the first one I remember reading - in elementary school. I can still see Mrs. Wilson and the shelves and then can remember reading that wonderful book. I wanted to be her. Her wedding dress was the first picture I had in my head after H proposed.

I could be spending this money on other, more useful things - like clothes I'm comfortable in or a trip with H. But instead, I'm trying to figure out the best way to get this piece from West Chester, Pennsylvania, to Washington, D.C. without shipping it, exposing it to cold, or putting it in harm's way.

And it will be The Bean's. And she will have a piece of wearable art, Nigel.

*Photo cropped from one I found on Letters to Betsy (great blog and name, btw - another childhood memory)

Sad

The change of clothes is packed (recently purchased 9 West shift dress, lillybee peeptoe pumps or grey booties), as is makeup, hairbrush, and other primping things. Just in case.

But the way I'm feeling right now, I just don't know if I'll make the DSS tonight. So so sad that I'm even thinking about missing it. Darned first-cold-of-the-season-The-Bean-brought-home-from-preschool. 3 hours of school, total, and three of four of us are sniffling and sneezing.

To-Do List Update

Shower? Check.

Lavender-cammomile bubble bath with The Bean? Check.

Money saved by shampoo not yet used on hair? Priceless.

Stealing Mary's Idea

She's taken a lot of flack for it, but maybe Ms. Amons has it right: if you've got a good closet, go to any length to protect it from sticky little fingers (in all senses of the word).

While I have high hopes for my recently purchased Anns to jumpstart me out of my style slump, I think The Bean has other designs for them. I had them out, ready to wear this morning, and, well...you vote on who's wearing it better...

And yes, that's a dragonfly sticker in her hair.

The Times, They Are A' Changin'

Dylan I'm not, but still, it's true.

Over the last few years, the Infintessimal Readership has watched my life change, well, considerably. From my super-DC nupitals (ceremony next door to the Naval Observatory, reception at local watering hole with history, Chef Geoff's, née Quigley's) to Beans One and Two, I've shared the way I've had to display my style differently. We all have changing bodies, changing lives, changing jobs, and need to adjust our wardrobes to work for where ever we are right now.

As Bean One - aka, the 3-year-old Diva - grew, I managed to share. But then as Bean Two showed up, somehow, it got harder. Sure, it was easier with one, and now there were two, but I thought I'd be able to manage.

What this slacker posting has made me do, though - I'm always thinking of good posts, and as you know, going out to you to get input, so the intent is there - is to reexamine why I'm doing this. And to reexamine whether I'm still that stylish gal - that wannabe It Girl - who can answer your questions and share my fantastic style and foibles.

Generally, the answer is yes. So my body's changed and I have a little less time to pour over mags and the internet in search of Good Style. But a couple of interesting things have happened.

We Style Bloggers are known to wait by mailboxes with baited breath for the Next Issue. Miss Spinach and Belle, for example, are always sharing their inspiration from the latest pages. I, on the other hand, despite having some forced reading time when Bean One is in preschool and Bean Two is asleep in the stroller, stand in front of the CVS magazine stand (an actual subscription to something is way too much commitment for me) and just, well, feel uninspired. When I do manage to pick up a Vogue or Marie Claire, I'm left cold. I'm not sure if it's that I don't feel the creations inside aren't relevant to my life - that's not really the point of fashion, now, is it - or if fashion has taken a dive in creativity. I got the same feeling when I wandered through Pentagon City the other day. Nothing on the racks was even remotely interesting - not Michael Kors' mid-tier safari shirts nor my standby cocktail dress place, BCBG (no one takes the runways down to real life better, I think) made me want to try anything on, let alone plop down my card.

So what does make me want to plop down my card? What does get me excited now? Eeek. Two things: Duds for the Beans (though why I'd ever feel the need to buy anything for them, as they get more gifted clothing than anyone could ever wear), and Household Items.

The first we'll take - very loosely - as an extension of my own style, a way to help my children develop their own comfort levels and personal style (yes, they're 3 and 5.5 months, but hey, it's never too early, right?). The second? Not so much. I suppose we could stretch it to say that I'm styling my home. But that would be a massive stretch. We're not talking throw pillows and paint there. We're talking kitchen gadgets, food, and organization stuff. Right now, I'm more comfortable walking into The Container Store and Williams-Sonoma than even a Very Safe Ann Taylor Loft (though I must say, there's some very cute stuff there at the moment).

Folks, I'm trying. I'm somehow scared to buy anything new - clothing, that is - and not for lack of need. I'm perpetually unhappy with my closet contents - just ask H in the morning before work. I've got $100 to spend at DSW - and beloved shoes that are going to go to Shoe Heaven soon. I've documented some of my recent, boring, "staple" purchases. I'll get out there soon. Really.

Almost time...

...for a little shopping for mama.

Despite having found some real gems (my flutter-sleeve milkstars top is ridiculously flattering and comfy - and practical) online in the past few weeks and awaiting the arrival of more at my mama's house (shipped them there so I'd be sure to have them on our "vacation"), I'm jonesin' for some real shopping.

I'm sure I'll get frustrated and feel like a big cow in the dressing room (just part of the transition from M clothes to "real" clothes), but I'm excited. I'm feeling pretty good, and my Beans are relatively cooperative when it comes to being out and about. That means my mama and I can take them to the Exton Square Mall - or maybe even King of Prussia - and hit a couple of stores.

Yes, I'm going mall shopping.

For me right now - in transitional sizes - it's the most practical. It also helps that we're transitioning between seasons; I'm hoping for some sales.

On the list: a couple of pairs of pants, a skirt or two, and maybe some new shoes. I'd love to have more skirts than slacks, but so far, I'm not terribly inspired by what's out there. A simple denim skirt (lordy, am I having flashbacks there) will probably suffice, plus the black pleated one I ordered and have waiting for me at grandma's house.

My treat to myself, though (other than the massage my mama's making me get)? I'll see what fanciness I can find at Malena's. Like I've mentioned before, this is a gem of a vintage store (also reachable online) owned and expertly run by a childhood friend of my sister's (aka prettyinpink). She's always got a scarf or purse or buckle or pair of brilliantly gaudy earrings I just have to have. Unfortunately, even without the baby weight, I'm usually to Germanically-boned for vintage clothing, and my size 9s are usually too long for vintage shoes, but I can accessorize (what's that word? as Fancy Nancy* says) 'til the cows come home - and they will, up in southeastern PA, where I'll be spending the next week...

*Fancy Nancy is a gloriously diva-ish little girl who frequents a series of children's books. One of The Bean's favorite "aunts" brings her new installments in the series (sticker books, flip out books - the latest and most popular so far) when she visits. Thanks, BlueSuitGirl, for cultivating my daughter's interest in All Things Fancy.