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WhyDid Wisdom: Judgey Wudgey Was a Bear…

By |June 6th, 2013|WhyDid Wisdom|

It’s very rare I bat even an eyelash at a guy when I’m out on the town.  Partially because I’m a bit shy, but mostly because I rarely come across anyone the slightest bit bat worthy.  But on one particular evening, I was feeling flirtatious, not to mention that I knew my marled grey sweater dress was hugging my curves in precisely the right places and my hair was on a whole new level of Pantene Pro-V commercial bounciness.  I might have also had two glasses of champagne, but that’s neither here nor there.

So, when I saw a guy at the table next to ours who did not resemble a Wall Street douchebag just let loose from his trading desk (unmistakable by their unbuttoned  custom tailored shirts, pressed grey trousers, and shiny black Ferragamos), I gave him the ol’ eye.  Even more so, I gave him the eye, eyebrow and half smile—my signature move.  Message delivered.  This tall, handsome, man of a man took his time, but made his way over to me to say, “hello.”   Names were exchanged, leading to the standard, “Where are you from?” question.  Him: New Jersey, Me: West Virginia.  We took digs at each other’s respective hometowns and a bond was forged.

Bonus points for his ability to not only dish it, but take it.  Double bonus points for texting me the moment he woke up the next morning (which was awfully early for the record) and having saved his number with both first and last name in my phone.  I never go out with someone sans knowing his surname anymore—but that story is for a different day.

After snoozing for another hour or so, I did what every twenty-first century woman in her right mind does… I first searched for him on Facebook to see if we had any overlapping friends, but found no relevant matches.  Up next, Google.  Due to his fairly common name, I had to think of another identifier that would make him more Googleable.  Oh, right, he told me he reverse commuted for work, so I typed in his name along with the city where he worked and, “BAM!” there he was.

Oh no.  How could this delicious dreamboat be a … carpet cleaner?  I’ve never even met a carpet cleaner.  There had to be some mistake.  Except there wasn’t because the same number listed on his website was the number so sweetly saved in my cell phone.  After discounting him for his less than desirable job title, I texted with him casually and one Monday night while having cocktails with a friend, Mr. Dreamboat suggested we come join him at Hudson Bar & Books (the irony is not lost on me) since we were down the street and we were essentially neighbors.

Having exhausted the people watching at our current watering hole, we obliged and found him sitting at the bar enjoying a Manhattan and a stogie.  He was warm and gracious towards my friend, a gay gentleman with a biting sense of snark.  We toyed with him by telling him my friend was the host of  an after hours radio show about sex to which he asked thoughtful questions.  My friend asked Dreamboat what he did and his answer surprised us both.  He ran a janitorial business.  My carpet cleaner was now a janitor?  When I asked what might be considered blatantly rude questions to his face, he didn’t flinch or get defensive, but instead answered them in earnest.

Wow, he’s a genuinely nice human.  Wow, I’m a bitch.

As he walked me home, he told me about how he’d started collecting art and couldn’t figure out where to hang a vintage mirror in his new apartment.  He told me he’d just seen a great movie and I was half expecting him to tell me something embarrassing and low brow like Iron Man, but instead he named a movie I had never heard of playing in a theater I didn’t even know existed.  Perhaps I’d judged Dreamboat a little too quickly.

This earned him a kiss goodnight.  One that must have been impressive because my doorman gave me a high five on my way through the lobby.

Things continued on casually.  Texts here and there, a date planned and then canceled and a run in with him during brunch at The Standard followed by a boozy Saturday afternoon with my friends mixing with his—one of which I had dated five years prior and another who may or may not have been a high end hooker.  Not much transpired past that day, not due to my lack of trying though.  As we’d been judging Dreamboat for being less than desirable on paper, he’d written me off for his own reasons.  Probably for being a sarcastic snob.

During one of my marathon phone calls with my dad, he was quick to remind me that sanitation is recession proof and while I’m sitting here writing this in my robe, he’s on vacation in the Dominican Republic.  Dick Smith, always thinking of things I didn’t.

Point being: careful when making judgments and remember that you, too, are being judged… even by your janitor.

xx,

WhyDid

Why Did You Wear That: NY State of Mind

By |January 3rd, 2012|Personal Style, Why Did You Wear That?|

Nothing is stranger than returning to the city that you love as a tourist.  This past weekend, I was back in the Big Apple, but no longer as a resident of the best city in the world.  Though I did stay at The Standard only a stone’s throw away from my last apartment, it was so peculiar to be just another person visiting New York City.  I haven’t even been gone an entire year (I gave up my apartment last January), but things have already changed (there’s now a Sephora on the corner of 13th and 9th.  Do you KNOW how much better this would have made my life?).

As bittersweet as my visit was, I still love New York City unlike another other city.  There is something so magical, so indescribable, that one must experience it to truly understand it.  While it’s not for everyone, the people who it affects, will be affected forever.  There is just something that gets under your skin and you’ll never ever be able to shake it.  As much as you may tire of the hustle, bustle, and constant struggle, you’d miss it if you were to be transplanted elsewhere.  I can certainly attest to that.

So when spending the afternoon at a ballet in the city, what else should one don but basic black?  Now, we all know that black is the New York uniform, but how do you do it without being boring?  Try mixing different textures to add depth and definition.  Mix leather or coated denim with something sheer, shiny accessories and a fishtail braid for a truly city chic look.

1. Theyskens’ Theory Black Button Down Sheer Blouse, $385, 2. 7 For All Mankind The Skinny in Black Shiny Featherweight, $169, 3. J Weber Etched Starburst Locket, $475, 4. Alex & Ani Nile Expandable Wire Bangles, $158, 5. Steve Madden Outrrage Black Leather Bootie, $189.95

It’s up to you New York…

xx,

WhyDid

 

Why Did You Wear That: Party Pants

By |August 16th, 2011|Personal Style, Why Did You Wear That?|

This is one of my all time favorite outfits and these sequin shorts may seem silly, but I’ve found them to be awfully versatile. �This particular pair of party pants has made its way from the Standard in New York to the Chateau Marmont in LA and had a blast all along the way.

Since moving up north, all my “fun” clothes have been doing nothing but collecting dust. �Needless to say, my sequin shorts haven’t seen the light of day. Sorry, kids, unless you love to wear North Face, Patagonia and J. Crew when you’re feeling jazzy, Northern California is not for you.  But just because I’m suffering doesn’t mean you need to be.

Ready to turn your pants into a party? �Thought so:

1. Kill City Good Country Muscle Tee, $52, 2. Chan Luu Sequined Track Shorts, $148, 3. Rachel Roy Cross Charm Bracelet, $65, 4. Anya Hindmarch Sea Snake Valerie Clutch, $650, 5. Dolce Vita Madison Platform Pump, $165

Are sequin shorts the new LBD? �No, probably not, but they are certainly a fun addition to any girl’s wardrobe.

xx,

WhyDid

Somethin’ For the Fellas: Jean Therapy

By |February 10th, 2010|Somethin for the fellas|

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Dear god, guys. Seriously? Do I really have to do this again?  I mean, again?  Apparently so.

Last week while grabbing a cocktail at The Standard with a girlfriend, we ran into a male pal of ours who was seated with two other gentlemen.  Being as The Standard (aka Cougs and Dudes) was busy as usual, we gladly accepted their invitation to sit at their table. Don’t mind if we do!  All seemed fine as we sat and chatted while sipping on our Kettle One and sodas… and then… it happened.

One of the gentlemen excused himself to the little boy’s room. No, he didn’t have skid marks. And no, he wasn’t shorter than expected (remember that episode of Sex and the City where Samantha dates a midge?).  What the problem was- his jeans.  Ugly, nasty, ill fitting, yellow stitched, obnoxious pockets True Religions. I mean, don’t you read WDYWT? Did you not get the memo? These jeans should come with a surgeon general’s warning.  They’re not only bad for YOUR health, they’re bad for MINE.

When he returned from the loo, I questioned him as to why he thought it would be a good idea to wear such heinous pants.  From the waist up, he was a good looking, well dressed man. He went as far as having a pocket square in his well tailored blazer. So, why on earth would he ruin all his good work by wearing clown pants? Poor guy, he didn’t know any better. I know this because he defended himself by informing me that he had a great pair of Cavalli jeans as well. Yikes.  Luckily, he was a good sport as I listed oh so many reasons why he looked like a dbag. Here are some rules to live by:

  • Dark- They must be dark. Save the stone washed, and distressed for your gf. You just stay dark.
  • Simple- You don’t need your pants to be fancy. There is no need for contrast stitching or bedazzled pockets. Plain is a man’s best friend.
  • Pockets are crucial- One of my biggest issues with True Religion jeans are the pockets. They can turn even the perkiest rear into a dumptruck. It all has to do with pocket placement. Pockets should be high (on the actual buttocks) and closer together rather than further apart (this goes for you ladies as well).
  • Length- Your jeans should be long enough to rest on the top of your shoe, but not so long that they drag on the ground and get ratty. On a side note, men should NEVER wear capri jeans. I got heartburn just thinking that I even have to clarify that.
  • Size- Also crucial.  Baggy, saggy poo in my pants is not cute, nor is being able to see the outline of your “package.”

Need some visuals?

0426418236136R__A1_300x400Seven For All Mankind Standard Straight Leg Jeans, $169

800x800Nudie Big Bengt Straight Leg Jeans in Dark Crinkle, $225

800x800-1Prps Barracuda Regular Straight Leg Jeans in Dark Selvedge, $354

8521-945201-dLevi’s 514 Slim Straight jeans in Tumbled Rigid, $48

I suck at math, but here’s one equation I know : girls in leggings as pants >= men in True Religion jeans.

Do us all a favor and create an Ebay account to rid your closet of any and all toxic jeans. I won’t be as forgiving next time.

xx,

WhyDid