Monthly Archive: August 2016

Death Of a Shoe

We’ve all owned that one shoe that was so comfortable, so stylish, so perfect, it became our signature. We literally wore it to death. Such is the tale of my first pair of Jimmy Choo slingbacks. The year was 2002. I was browsing the annual sidewalk sale at Ruth Shaw at Cross Keys Village in Baltimore. There they sat, as if the heavens had descended, and a bargain on sale for $275. They were black with perforated leather and a 3 inch heel, not too high, but high enough to make my legs look long and lean. I wore them with everything, from jeans to dresses, casual to cocktail. I wore them my first day of classes at law school (I’m like a brunette Elle Woods!) and walked home in them for two miles after getting on the wrong bus, without getting so much as a single blister. My Choos were basically the luxury version of the Easy Spitit Pumps the women played basketball in from the 1993 ad.

That year I wore my Choos so much I questioned why I even owned other shoes. I wore the heels down several times and had them repaired by a cobbler (are they still called cobblers?). Then one day I got the call. My shoe guy phoned to tell me he could no longer fix my shoes- that it would literally be unethical for him to fix them again and let me try and walk in them. The structural integrity of the shoe had completely deteriorated. All that was left was leather scraps. If they were a car, they’d be totalled. If they were a person, they’d be on life support with no signs of recuscitation. RIP.

To this day I’ve searched high and low, scoured the internet, across continents even, looking for another perfect shoe. Alas, the perfect shoe is a myth, its a mirage, or a legend. And I’ve got the blisters to prove it.

 

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The Emperor’s New Clothes

Most of you are familiar with Hans Christian Anderson’s tale of an Emperor so vain and easily duped, his tailors dress him in “invisible” fabric. The Emperor parades around the land, daring his subjects to point out his nakedness, because he believes only those with a keen eye for fashion can appreciate his new duds. Naturally, everyone oohs and ahhs. The Emperor was never in on the joke. Enter Kendall Jenner.

The year is 2016. Kendall has access to the world’s most beautiful and technologically innovative clothes. She owns the catwalk in both the ready to wear and couture seasons and is the darling of Olivier Rousteing and Karl Lagerfeld. Anna Wintour and Vogue awarded her the highly coveted spot on this year’s September cover and regularly feature her on Vogue.com. She is applauded the world over and by thousands of devoted social media accounts for her personal style. We worship her. Yet she runs around half naked.

Aren’t we foolish?

 

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Fendi’s New Mascots

Fendi recently introduced two furry mascots known as the Fendiruma, life sized versions of two of their newest bag charms. The Fendiruma are making the rounds, celebrating Fendi pop up shops and store openings, and even attending the Fall 2016 runway show. The mascots are heavily influenced by Japanese culture and love of all things kitsch (and according to W magazine, the Japanese pop duo, Kigurumi).

My problem with the Fendiruma is they seem off-brand. Fendi recently showed a stunning and immaculately detailed collection post couture week at the Trevi Fountain in Rome. The show was breathtaking and the models walked on a runway of clear glass suspended over the fountain, with Kendall Jenner opening the show and Bella Hadid closing. So, how does Fendi go from ethereal beauty to tacky telletubbies?

Fendi should leave the Fendirumi in Japan and let the clothes speak for themselves. The western world has embraced Fendi’s furry bag charms, but the Fendirumi are garish and tawdry. This is not a smart move for an atelier that, in their own words, revolutionIzed fur.

 

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Women Seeking Rich Husbands

Welcome Ladies, to the first annual convention for Women Seeking Rich Husbands. I am extremely pleased with today’s turnout and our fast increasing membership. I look at your bright, hopefuly faces and am reminded of our motto: “It doesn’t matter what he looks like; it matters what his financial statments look like.

Before I tell you about the exciting events we have scheduled, I want to extend my thanks to the Planning Committee, who worked tirelessy to secure this brilliant location on Wallstreet. Wallstreet is recognized the world over as workplace for some of our nation’s wealthiest men. In the building next door alone, we have a generous selection of lawyers, investment bankers, hedge fund managers, and business tycoons. But lets not get ahead of ourselves, ladies. There will be more on that during Wednesday’s lecture, “Your friend the elevator: how to land the rich man in the building next door.”

To kick off our convention, we will welcome best-selling author, Ivanna Richman, who recently published a new book, “Down the Aisle and Straight to the Bank.” Most of you are familiar with Richman’s other books, including “The Art of Marriage: Refusing a Prenup,” and “The Art of Divorce: Getting what you Deserve.”

At 12:00 we will break for lunch. The Planning Committee has prepared a list of nearby restaurants categorized by menu and the occupation and bank account size of the men that frequent them.

After lunch you will rotate between four half-hour workshops led by some of New York’s most notable socialites, who have turned marrying well into an art form. In Workshop 1, “If I were a Rich Man,” you will learn to distinguish between young men with real ambition, versus those suffering from The Tevia Complex, who have the dream but not the drive. In Workshop 2, “Law or Loser” we will go over which types of lawyers make the most money and which lawyers work for the love of the profession. Remember ladies, Pro Bono is a NoNo. In Workshop 3, “The Hospital Dating Pool; Looking at the Bright Side of Surgery,” you will learn when its appropriate to ask out your single doctor or anesthesiologist. Finally, in Workshop 4, “I Loved a Really Old Man and All I Got was This Lousy Tshirt,” we hear from experts on The Anna Nicole Smith case and where she went wront. Always get it in writing, Ladies!

I now turn the podium over to Mrs. Ivanna Richman. Let’s give her a warm welcome. She knows what she’s talking about.

 

(Written when I was 20)

The New Feminism

Thank you, Gloria Steinem, for all you have done in the past for women and the feminist movement, but I’m afraid we no longer need you. There’s a new feminism and your way of thinking is simply too antiquated. Today’s women understand that intelligence and sexuality are not mutually exclusive and we think for ourselves.

In a recent interview with Bill Maher, Steinem shamed young women who supported Bernie Sanders in the 2016 primaries by commenting, “When you’re young, you’re thinking, ‘Where are the boys? The boys are with Bernie.'” Steinem is implying that young women couldn’t possibly support Sanders for reasons other than they are hoping to find a date at his political events, and as women, we should automatically support Hillary Clinton.

First of all, there is nothing wrong with young women hoping to meet men who share their political beliefs. Second, and more important, the very canon of feminism is that women are intelligent enough to vote and make our own decisions. By simply voting for Hillary Clinton because she is a woman, we are making a mockery of all the women who fought for our right to vote in the first place. If you truly believe Clinton is the best candidate, then by all means, vote for her. But be a true feminist and make an informed decision.

Last Will and Testament

I , Elisa D, being of (somewhat) sound mind and body, declare this to be my Last Will and Testament. I revoke all wills and codicils and any shit written on a napkin or the back of an old Starbucks receipt previously by me.

I appoint my bestie, Molly, as my Personal Representative to administer this Will and make sure that my enemies do not loot the contents of my closet.

I direct my Personal Representative to pay out of my estate whatever I still owe to the bloodsuckers at Neiman Marcus and Saks Fifth Avenue. Why don’t I just give them my first born while I’m at it?!

I devise, bequeath, and give my Fashion Photography Collection to The Philadelphia Museum of Art, with instructions that they put up a bigass plaque with my name on it and throw a gala to celebrate my generosity and fabulous taste. But to my gay BFF, Ryan, I leave any photos that show a woman’s tits so that he may enjoy the sweet irony. He also gets dibs on anything leather or remotely kinky in my closet.

I give my television and my shitty DVD player from Target to my building’s concierge, Wellington, so that he has something to entertain him now that I’m gone. Just put my stack of DVD’s by the curb and see if anyone wants them. If no one takes my copy of Weekend at Bernie’s, consider that the downfall of society.

I give my squash racket to my personal trainer, William, but hope that he would feel too guilty to ever play again with anyone else because it just would not be the same because I am one of a kind.

I donate my sexy lingerie and corset collection to whichever of my female friends are divorced at the time of my death and need them to woo a new man because let’s face it ladies, you aren’t getting any younger and you need all the help you can get (I kind of have a hunch who all will get divorced but I better keep my mouth shut).

I give my furniture, specifically my cat-pee stained mattress (thanks Blackberry) and a rickety nightstand to my friend Adam because he won’t give a shit that it sucks he just likes taking my things.

And now for the good stuff. I give my Rick Owens runway vest to Ayumi because you totally get the whole Rick Avant Garde thing. Ayumi can also have all my fashion and art books if she can arrange a way to schlep them home.

I give my Alaia dresses to Terry because i was a total ass about not lending them to her after that time she borrowed one and it came back smelling of perfume which I’m legit allergic to.

I give my Chanel thigh high boots to…wait nevermind, I wanna be buried in those bad boys.

I give my Chanel clothes, hats, fingerless gloves, and headbands to my BFF and Personal Representative, Molly, because she will either totally appreciate them or she will sell them in her store and totally appreciate the cash.

I give my Fendi and Dior clothes to my sister, Laura, even though her skinny ass will have to have them taken in several sizes. And i give my fur jacket and scarf collection to Ayumi. Wear them well, my friend. Wear them well.

As for any expensive jewelry my future husband is going to buy for me whether he likes it or not, I leave it all to my mom. Actually, my mom has dibs and first right of refusal on basically everything because I owe her gabillions of dollars.

To my friends I left nothing to, please know that does not mean I didn’t love you. I probably just didn’t love you enough to leave you any of my super cool stuff.

Also, I authorize Molly to pull the plug on me should I ever be hospitalized and no longer able to online shop. Please do not give my future husband plug pulling ability, as surely I will make him crazy and he will pull the plug on me for nothing short of a hangnail.

I know that Jews have closed caskets at their funerals, but if I’m having a good hair day feel free to give people just a peak.

Thank you and Peace Out.

Go Fund Me

Hello. My name is Elisa and I need your help. I need a shit ton of cash to get Neiman Marcus and their band of collection agents off my back. So, through no fault of my own, well not really, well maybe a little, ok so it’s totally my fault, I charged a ton of cute stuff to my Neimans account this year. But the problem is I’m currently unemployed because of, like, the economy. I have a license to practice law but I just can’t bear the thought of wearing those icky, androgynous pantsuits like Hillary Clinton- I don’t care if her clothes are all Armani and Oscar de la Renta, they still look horrible. So what I really need is for you guys to give me money and keep me out of debtor’s prison because no one looks cute under fluorescent lighting. Orange may be the new black, but not with my dark hair and cool undertones.

And here’s the thing, I need your money like right away because the new Fall runway is hitting the stores and I reserved the Fendi coat that Kendall Jenner wore to open the show and I really think it will look amazing on me because at least two people have told me that if you squint really hard and its dark out and possibly a bit foggy that I kind of look like Kendall. And I’ve been working out at the gym all year to look good in this coat and my trainer actually made me do stuff (so rude) and I only ate at Shake Shack sometimes but I compromised and got a single burger instead of a double which is basically dieting and making a huge sacrifice. I even made it through half a day on an intense juice cleanse and gave up carbs for a bit (except for frappacinos which don’t count obviously).   So here is the best part, if you give me your money now you will get the satisfaction of knowing you helped me look really cute and got me back in Neiman’s good graces so I can show my face at Bergdorfs and charge stuff on my account without the SWAT team coming after me. And if you are really lucky you will see me looking fabulous in line at Starbucks in my new Fendi coat. But please don’t touch it or rub up against it or try to talk to me. Ok thanks byeee.