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Setting the Mood: Love Me Tender or Not So Much.

By Kirsten|February 10th, 2014|Setting the Mood|

The only day in February with more unnecessary hype surrounding it than the first day of Fashion Week is Valentine’s Day. While I’m love’s greatest champion even after all my crashing, burning, and broken hearts, Valentine’s Day gives me a little bit of anxiety. Not really for myself so much as the rest of the general population. My blackened heart basically makes me immune to the inevitable disappointment of people everywhere who dreamt up a day so romantic it would make Cinderella sick. Without fail, plans fall apart, hearts get shattered, and mascara finds its way down tear stained cheeks.

Don’t believe me? Check out a few of my Valentine’s Day massacres:

One year it was spent eating an entire box of red velvet cupcakes and crying with my gay best friend. Did I mention the cupcakes had been meant for his date who canceled an hour before?

I once went through a breakup while seated next to my boyfriend turned ex boyfriend on an airplane on the way home from Los Angeles. That was an awfully long flight.

And last year I really exceeded all of my bad decision making capabilities with a late night margarita fueled rendezvous. That lead to an entire year of what some might consider an all around bad decision. I’d actually like to thank the fine folks previously employed at Mole for having served us more tequila shots than there are days in February.

But it’s not all bad. People have gotten engaged, met at single’s mixers, and lived out The Bachelor worthy dates. So, let’s go with that. While I’ll probably padlock myself indoors and surrender my iPhone to my doorman for the evening so as to avoid my apparent February 14th curse, you kids go out and have fun.

Agent Provocateur Soiree Liu Liu Lace Bra and Briefs, Hotel Costes Red Eau de Toilette, Oscar de la Renta Gold Plated Crystal Rose Earrings, Nicholas Kirkwood Lace Mesh Pumps

xx,

WhyDid

WhyDid Wisdom: Picture This

By Kirsten|February 10th, 2014|WhyDid Wisdom|

So, you wanna get your picture snapped at Fashion Week.

Well, you’re in luck because it’s not all that difficult. You see, outside of the hypothetical “tents” at Lincoln Center lie photographers on a fashion safari and you’re the creature in the wild whose head is likely to be mounted next to that antelope in the den. It’s a mixed bag out there. Some people are actual photographers from credible media outlets. Others are bloggers capturing street style rather than shows. And then there are people who maybe just so happen to own cameras and decided to hang around as true fashion hangers on. It’s quite the spectacle and if you still think you’d like to find yourself on a .rus website one day a year from now, here are three hard and fast rules to having your mug captured for all of the internet to consume.

Be famous. I believe this is self explanatory, but maybe not because “famous” is relative these days.
Look like a crazy ass Olsen twin who may or may not have ingested bath salts pre-show. In my experience, people who look like total maniacs will always be photographed. This either says a lot about modern day “journalism” or these photographers somewhere along the way mistook freakshow for fashion. Basically layer on the weirdest shit you’ve got laying around your apartment. Add a turban and body glitter for good measure. For some reason, looking insane confuses these photographers and your pic will be snapped for better or worse.
Go fashion editor chic. The last and, in my opinion best, way to get noticed is to be clean, polished, and preferably wearing something designer. Definitely stick on a pair of dark shades so as to add to the mystery. Is she famous? Is she not? Doesn’t matter, they’ll shoot you just to be sure. A fur coat also seems to be the ticket to getting clicked this year. Look important by texting as you breeze by on the way up the stairs and into the shows.

And honestly, even if you don’t want your picture taken, too bad. It’s being taken. As I exited the shows and stuck around for a few to snap some photos of the outdoor ambience, I found that I was being photographed photographing everyone else. No one bothered to ask for my information, outfit details, or hand me a card, so heaven knows where my image may appear on the world wide web. Occupational hazard, I suppose. Welcome to Fashion Week. They don’t call New York the concrete jungle for nothing.

xx,

WhyDid

The List Volume XCI

By Kirsten|February 9th, 2014|The List|

Keeping in theme and wrapping up this week’s fitness focused posts, let’s cap things off with The List. This particular list is solely dedicated to the most obnoxious gym behaviors that are sure to raise your blood pressure and give that punching bag something to cry about. I’m sure there are some professional gym-goers who are much bigger sticklers when it comes to gym etiquette, but let’s just stick with the basics, okay?

Any sort of noises. Grunting, panting, singing along to Bruno Mars- not acceptable.
If there are 15 empty machines, why did you insist on hopping on the one directly next to me?
Though I’ve been guilty, as Stiegler always tells me, girls should not wear grey pants to the gym. Seeing a sweat stained crotch is so not sexy.
Texting at the gym is one thing, but talking on the phone while you get in your “cardio” is just absolutely absurd. There’s a “decline” button for a reason. If your cat isn’t giving birth and calling to tell you as much, there’s no need to be on the phone.
If you’re paying $35+ a class, don’t slack off. You paid a pretty penny to participate, so do your best even when it’s excruciatingly painful. As Jenn once said during an especially tricky oblique exercise, “If it’s too tough, well tough. Do it.”
Push up bras under sportsbras. Not only is that counterintuitive, but seriously?
Do not talk to me while I’m working out. See these headphones? They’re the universal “bug off” symbol.
It’s a treadmill, not a runway. While it’s okay, and frankly encouraged, to wear something nicer than your ex’s holey sweats, a full face of makeup and Pantene perfect hair is taking things too far and pretty much pissing the rest of us off.
So, you’re walking on a treadmill reading an US Weekly in a completely packed gym? Ok. Next time, stay home and just swing your legs on the couch.
Did you seriously forget your deodorant?

xx,

WhyDid

Weekend Playlist: Let It Burn

By Kirsten|February 9th, 2014|Weekend Playlist|

You know the hardest part about going to the gym? Going to the gym. It’s amazing all the tiny tasks that I’ve neglected doing up until it’s time to make my way to the treadmill. Oh that stack of magazines I’ve yet to read? They must be sorted through before I could possibly go to the gym. All that paper has gotta be a fire hazard. I probably should clean out the fridge too.

However, once I’m actually at the gym or have just completed a thorough sweat session, I’m more than happy I went. Even happier when my pants aren’t sausage wrappers. It’s like my dad says, “What do exercise and hitting yourself in the head with a hammer have in common? They both feel good when you stop.” One great way to get you through the burn is a playlist that tricks you into believing you’re bumping elbows with Beyoncé, not the meathead bro-ing out with barbells. I’ve shared my running playlist before and Jenn was kind enough to bestow us with a few of her favorites, but much like your workout routine- it’s always good to switch things up. Here’s what I’m currently feeling the burn and burning the calories to:

Sweat looks good on you.

xx,

WhyDid

Why Did You Wear That: Sorry, Karl.

By Kirsten|February 5th, 2014|Why Did You Wear That?|

If you’ve tired of cashmere turtlenecks and grandpa cardigans, there’s some new knitwear in town. Well, not really “new” because I’ve suggested it once before this past fall, but it’s the sweatshirt. The last time we visited sweatshirts, I feared for poor Karl’s health, but hopefully he’s recovered from his panic attack by now… because it would appear that sweatshirts have not only grown in popularity, but have been adopted by just about every designer on the market. An article of clothing once relegated to the gym, males, and lazy Sundays at home, the new sweatshirt is far beyond a marled grey crewneck. Whether in printed neoprene or with heavy embellishments of sequins and chiffon, this season’s sweatshirts might even sway Mr. Lagerfeld.