Friday, May 17, 2013

This Week in Seven.

it's time for the re-cap, pre-cap, and all that lies in between.

This is what's been on my mind or is currently dancing around in that skull of mine, playing on my television, blasting through my speakers, and living in my closet.

Dolce Vita Julie platform wedges
Wedges for all of my friends! Ok, so I know I've clearly been loving my electric blue suede Dolce Vita Julie wedges (a lot, ok. I know, I know.), but they've been such a new favorite of mine--the color, the style, etc. The indigo-purple-ish color is surprisingly versatile (it coordinates with so much! who knew?!), but it also adds another layer of depth and a tiny smidgen of flare to dresses or skinny pants. Anyway, these heels are the most unexpectedly comfortable shoes I own! Even more so than many of my flats. So, I went ahead and just had to--simply haaaad to, dear--also acquire them in fruity, punchy-red suede and in classic black leather. I'm about slip one of these bad girls on and run a few miles around the city...not really, but I probably could if I so felt compelled.
In terms of these Julie wedges, you can walk a mile...or my shoes any day. Or, just snag your very own pair, HERE.

 Jay Gatsby, his Daisy, and the rest of the fabulously good-looking and well-dressed roaring twenties gang.
I know, I know, I know.
Forgive the self-portrait aspect, but this is what I wore to the Gatsby Premiere--Over-sized maroon sequin jacket,
black tiered and pleated dress, long necklaces,
vintage hat.

The media has completely gone off the deep end, over-saturating, over-hyping everything and anything Gatsby. We're all,"ohhhh, sooo into 20s fashion again," etcetera, etcetera.
As irritating and bandwagon-ish as it may appear,
I'm into this. Some people hated the film. Hate the whole revival and obnoxious display of excessive Hollywood hype. It's obviously a seriously divisive issue. But, I'm going to have to play the role of the sap and declare that I'm driving this wagon. Or, at least, in the forefront. And we're driving Maseratis, mind you.
I am.
 I give in. I gave in to the newest film, itself, lastly and most recently.
And, man, did it feel gooooooood.  
I don't even believe that I, a word-y lady, possess the words to describe how I felt about Baz Luhrmann's film adaptation of American author F. Scott Fitzgerald's 1925 novel. It's a feast for the eyes.
A feast!
Thanksgiving on steroids.
Simply put, it's visually enchanting. I sat, mesmerized, in the theater by the excessive display in front of me. I wanted and needed more. It's gluttony at its finest. yourself a favor and see "The Great Gatsby," whether it is for pure pleasure or simply to rag on all of your friends about how ridiculous they are for believing that it's everything but absurd.
Congratulations, Mister Luhrmann. You've done it again, 'ole sport. Feast your hungry eyes, everyone. Gatsby is not only great again...he's magnificent.
Collar necklaces 
I've been seeing more and more of these collars being sold. From chiffon to lace and even leather. It's a unique concept. These collars, paired with even a basic crew-neck tee or blouse, look fabulous, adding an element of interest in terms of texture. They replace the need for a necklace and make a statement without screaming.
These two lace collars were found at my local Crossroads Trading Company. The left's beading makes it a bit preppier, and that worked out wonderfully for me, because I purchased it for my oldest sister's birthday.  
The television show.
Image via imdb
I'm revisiting this classic. I'd seen episodes, here and there, growing up  and later on, the re-runs on late-night television. With my Netflix on Demand, I'm flying through the 200+ episodes they have available. It's witty. It's cheesy. It's comforting. It's warm. It's going in my favorites list along with "The Golden Girls" and "Friends." Having a bad day? The answer is clear.
Go where everybody knows your name.
You wanna go where everybody knows your name.
That provides the perfect segue to the following,

Southern Rock Brooklyn

I've been off the radar. "And where, exactly, is this 'off-the-radar?'" you might be asking. Recently, I've felt some semblance of nostalgia for my own homeland, so in an effort to appease this, I've been indulging in a few boot-scooting hideouts. I actually line-danced a few weeks ago. I'm not kidding. I'll deny it ever occurred, though, if you ever strike up a conversation with me about it. But, I've found some comfort and even some solace in my own little pseudo-south. Yes, it's trendy. Yes, I suppose this whole "southern" theme has caught on in terms of fashion, d├ęcor, stores, and dining and drinking endeavors. It's the newest "Asian-fusion" or what-have-you. Well, especially, here in Williamsburg, it's even more apparent, and this has been trending for a few years now. I'm finally giving in and perhaps, embracing my roots. It took me long enough to cease being bitter or even at times, ashamed, of the place where I hail from (Tennessee, ya'll).  And, I don't even have to cross the Mason-Dixon line.
I can have my cake--actually, biscuits--and eat them too.

Metallic Nail Polish
Golds, champagnes, nudes, bronzes and even olive.
They're a funkier take on a boring neutral, yet they're not overtly attention-seeking. 
Like I've said, I'm not a pink girl even if it is spring.  Metal rules.
Image via BeautyBay

OPI's "Spotted the Lizard" is this amazing
metallic golden olive color.
"Maria" by Blondie
I have a well-known affinity for girl rockers and female-led groups. This song was Blondie's "comeback single" on the lesser-known 1999 album. People aren't quite so familiar with Blondie's later singles, such as "Maria." And although it's not "One Way or Another," it's super infectious. That chorus is just so darn catchy. This song tops my daily "to listen to" playlist when running to catch that passing subway car...and with any luck, I just slide in before the doors close.
And you know what?

Debbie Harry is most definitely one of those kinds of girls.

"She moves like she don't care.
Smooth as silk, cool as air.
Ooh, it makes you wanna cry.

She doesn't know your name
And your heart beats like a subway train.
Ooh, it makes you wanna die.

Ooh, don't you wanna take her?
Wanna make her all your own? "

And that brings us here.
the one thing I am NOT into this week:
Mind-numbing commutes
Commutes are terrible. They are. It's a fact. But, these experiences are exasperated by certain inconsiderate, grouchy, and selfish commuters themselves. The New York City subway system takes the cake for poor and disgusting behavior. It's the birthplace of weird underground dwellers and their own set of guidelines. Like, rules, laws, and social norms no longer apply when you descend into the bowls of the city.
. On an uncomfortably-packed L train, this woman leaned against the entire length of the handrail, leaving most of us grasping for something to hold onto as the train zipped wildly through the tracks. Arms flailed. I basically kissed three strangers in thirty seconds as a result of the sudden sways. With green jacket unaware and uncaring, most of us just resolved that we were going to be smashed into our neighbor from time-to-time on our commute.
Foul play, green jacket.
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