A memorable view.

Today on my five-block walk from car to office (too cold for scooter, though I applaud those still on two wheels), I saw the most moving site. Outside of the Marbles Museum and across from the Nativity scene in Moore Square, was hundreds of presents and goodies being loaded into a Salvation Army truck. Even better than witnessing generosity through giving, were the smiles and sheer joy on the faces of the "elves" loading the truck. Thank goodness for the human heart and capacity to give even in lean times.

It's a wonderful life.

She's got legs.

This winter I'm mildly, OK more than mildly, obsessed with legwear. I've had colored stems (a fancy way to say I've been wearing tights) for 6 days straight with little color repeat. Each time I pull open my hosiery drawer I'm instantly mesmerized by its vibrant color spectrum. You see, one benefit of having a primarily-black wardrobe is the ability to wear color in my accessories. So goes it with my bold heels (current love: Jerome C. Rousseau Dragon Pump), rainbow of Lucite and now, opaque tights.

I haven't been shy about purchasing said colorful tights. And I haven't been shy about touting their virtue to any and everyone that will listen. (Tune into the N&O's Living in Style - out December 6 - spread for a 'how-to' on opaque legwear.) Stocked with a chic rainbow of leggings and tights, why do I secretly long for PVC leggings? I'd even settle for shiny lame' because PVC does seem better-suited for floating on than putting on. After much debate (OK, it took seeing, for the 15th time, a kick-ass picture of Kate Moss sporting a pair) I've taken the plunge. American Apparel is on my side and will now deliver one pair of black lame' leggings to my doorstep. Time, and a full-length mirror, will determine if they'll see the outside world. . .

In the name of fashion.

Dragon pump, Jerome C. Rousseau

Best way to hail a cab. Ever.

Kate Spade Taxi mittens, as seen in NYmag.com's gift guide.

If I'm on anyone's list: These top mine.

A collective sigh

All sunsets are magnificent. The close of the day, the last spot of light, a moment to reflect, to pause. Some of them, however, set fire to the sky and stop your heart from wonder. You sigh. You hear an echo, look over and realized the neighbor did too. A moment shared.

Saturday, November 16th's sky was ablaze. This one's for you abc. A brilliant end to a meaningful day, and the hope of a new day.

The way I see it.

Everything looks better in red.

About Today.

Forget the statement rings, the carefully layered necklaces or my signature stack of bangles (even my favored candy-colored Lucite ones). Today my accessory of choice is a sticker - my I VOTED sticker. It might be "just a sticker," nothing permanent about that, but yet, it is so much more. And in some ways, it is permanent. Today that sticker means I, and a record number of my countrymen and women, took part in history.

As I cast my ballot (#52), I was overwhelmed by the energy in my polling place - the excitement, the sense of purpose, the commitment to the future and the reverence of an act so simple, yet so powerful. I thought about the historical and exciting elections in the past. The elections that drew crowds and brought change. I thought about the women's suffrage movement and that first election following the ratification of the 19th Amendment in 1920 (not so very long ago).

Unless you've been living under a rock, you're aware of the historical characteristics of this election. Here's another: Americans coming together in seriously record numbers to take part in the democratic process and cast their vote for their candidate of choice. Standing in line, not across lines today. Voting is the biggest granter of equality. Your vote counts as much as my vote, as much as either candidates' votes. We're all equal. This is a reminder of that.

Now, get out and vote - the polls are still open. Get in on the action. Take your place in history. And document it - you'll be thankful you did.

What a girl wants. . .

Is not always what a girl needs. I tend to confuse the two often. For example, PVC leggings is a want, not a need. Sometimes wants and needs align, and when they do the result is as moving as an A-list celebrity meet-and-greet at your favorite brunch spot.

Such was the case when I found my lipstick match: Paula Dorf's Lip Color Sheer Tint in Breathless. I wanted perfect nude-yet-not lips. I needed an everyday lip color. I got a lipstick that delivered on both accounts, and in a subtle, what I imagine to be, universally-flattering shade.


A special thanks to one of my top-tier shop girls at Luxe Apothecary. Because of you my lips will never again yearn to find that perfect shot of non-color color. You know exactly of what I'm speaking. That effortless blush it-girls seemingly have cornered. "What lipstick? I'm not wearing any lipstick. My lips just naturally have this slightly-flushed, beckoning tint." I'm one of those girls now, thank you very much Paula Dorf. At least in the lipstick department.

A note on Luxe: If you haven't been - go. If you don't live in the Triangle - shop online. Either way, get familiar with Luxe Apothecary. It will change your life. And your lips.

Kiss.

I heart hot pink tights

There are some things that make you smile and make your outfit. Today it was my new hot pink tights. Tomorrow? Well, I'll have to wait and see. But, I'm not-so-secretly hoping a feather-embellished headband comes my way.

Change

Is going to come.

One of the views from my scooter en route to the office.

Not that you're in it for the lesson

But, if you were looking for one today listen to Ryan Adams' The Sun Also Sets. Like so many of Adams' songs, the lyrics grab you and it's as if he wrote it just for you, or even better, you wrote it. The reminder that The Sun Also Sets sends is how fragile, precious and fast life truly is. Not can be - is.

Why it grabbed me and didn't let me go:

I want to know how it all works out.

I've asked this a few times. OK, I've asked it a lot. A lot. If you've asked, read The Blind Assassin, you'll see why we don't know, can't know how it all works out. And why that's better.

We are only one push from the nest.

I first thought of the original nest; the one our parents pushed us from. Then I thought of all of the comfortable places in my life I had passed through or passed from, and the ones yet to come.

We are only one argument from death.

In a word: Forgiveness.

There it is. . .

Those three words lay down a reality we often forget. There it is: the harsh truth, the reality we don't want to face, life. And there it is for us to take, love, live.

The sun setting on the summer of 2007.

Reinvention 2008

New York. We were to be there right now - sister and me. Reinvention part deux was the theme. Kept in our respective cities by exorbitant airfare ($400 for less than 24 hours, really?) and scarce accommodations. (Though the hotel formerly known as QT did come through in the end.) But, in the very end, we sold them - the Madge tickets. Tickets to the show that in June 0f 2006 put us (me and K. Beale) into motion: her off to Russia, me one week later to London to meet Kel. This was our bookend and another beginning. Or maybe was to be our "charge" as Kel puts it, a time to get together, catch up, drink in the city we both love.

Either way, it wasn't quite meant to be. And a grown-up decision to conserve - green that is - was made. So, tomorrow night Madge will be playing to a crowd of one via my iPod and a reverent glass of champagne. Kel, I imagine will be doing her on version of reinventing with her hot, hot-pink vinyl album and some equally reverent bubbly in the Northern corner of the Eastern seaboard. And in the middle, in the city, thousands of lucky ones will pledge their own reinvention.

I still love you though New York.

I caught my stride, I flew and flied.

About a Boy might have made it a humorous topic of conversation, but singing, eyes closed with wild abandon is nothing new to me. Music is such an integral part of my life, it's rare for me not to be singing. Thanks v. much to Grandma Beale and Grandma Joyce, both of which always had a tune on their lips. OK, so rare to not be singing might be stretching it, but I'm usually not without music between the apt., car, office and walking or jogging.

Since I've been back on my scooter, which was previously sidelined with a flat tire, I haven't had the opportunity to ready myself for the day with a touch of Feist or MGMT (still the darlings of my iPod). Instead I've focused on the sites on my daily route. There are the runners that I scoot past in almost the same spot every morning. The workers queued up for tasks at the Laborfinders office just before the railroad. The signs of progress by way of tall condos and refurbished warehouses that once were nonexistent and forgotten. There's the change in season. Leaves that were once lush and green are golden and have begun to fall. There are political yard signs multiplying in number, reminding me that another change is coming.

Then, if I'm running early, or even on time, I'll scoot over the Boylan Bridge and take in a favorite view of downtown in the morning; awake, shining, poised for the day. I remember when there were only two "tall" buildings where now there are four. And I remember when downtown seemed sort of foreign to me and now it's home.

But I digress back to the singing. Because music while in motion was running scarce, I took my car out for an errand. It was dusk. That perfect time of day, especially in the fall, when the sun is low and everything, everything has a glow. My sis loves this time of day and for good reason. It's as if you're looking through the proverbial rose-colored glasses. She helped me love this time of day. With the iPod on shuffle, anything could play. And it did. For Reasons Unknown by The Killers filled the speakers and I reached for the volume. That familiar feeling of excitement and nostalgia at hearing a song from your [recent] past hit me. For a moment it was fall 2006 and all of those memories flooded my mind. Having moved, separated, traveled and loved it was music, along with a solid crew led by my amazing sister, that got me through. It was For Reasons Unknown that kicked off the soundtrack to that pivotal season in my life. Forgetting the gas crisis, I drove well past my intended destination. Windows down, iPod on repeat, singing. . . with my eyes closed.

I said if destiny's kind, I've got the rest of my mind.

But my heart it don't beat, it don't beat the way it used to.

And my eyes they don't see you no more.

Speaking of fall 2006, a toast to that crew.

A model day

It's been a fashionable weekend. First a runway show a la the Triangle's emerging designers.  Then I headed off to the coast to model in a commercial.  Me on a platform, in a white dress, fans, birds, lights and loads of onlookers.  Ahh, the model life.

Off to round two, the more fashion-driven shots.  More to come later. Oh, and photographs too.

You gotta. . . Prada. . .

I believe "bag with a lotta stuff in it" is how Will Smith's lyric went. If I "gotta" Prada bag, who cares about the stuff in it. Especially if the bag is their new, destined to be cult favorite (already-seen on supermodel Miranda Kerr's arm) lace-trim bag. Why-oh-why can't I be part of that cult? When I first saw an image of the bag, in all its sex-kitten intrigue, I nearly fainted.

And speaking of sex-kitten intrigue, black lace is one of my very favorite fabrics. It's high in both romance and drama. Miuccia Prada's fall 2008 collection takes the youthful effect out of lace, replacing it with a sophisticated, even menacing appeal. Think bourgeois gone mad but in a subdued manner, like that dark, quiet girl in class. I'd like to be that quiet girl. Especially if it meant a rack of Prada's severely-feminine lace pencil skirts and peplum coats were hanging in perfect order in my closet. As always, her designs are the definition of strong femininity mixed with buttoned-up sex appeal. Thanks to those who know cleverly demure always wins over the obvious.

And my love affair with Prada deepens. . .

La Vie Boheme lives on.

The lights on Broadway are dimmer now that Rent, play-turned-philosophy, closed Sunday, September 7th. But thanks to the inspiring words and sensational cast, we're armed with the mantra of La Vie Boheme: To more than one dimension. . . no absolutes. . . curry Vindaloo (for you kb). . . emotion, devotion, to causing a commotion. Here's to Jonathon Larson and his transforming vision who taught us how to live in America at the end of the millennium. Here's to measuring your life in love.

And to pay homage to a perfect New York evening I had earlier in 2008: A snapshot of Restaurant Florent (another shuttered New York treasure). With "a thousand sweet kisses" we bid adieu.

In my next life

I'd like to come back as a magazine editor.
Or her.

A taste of fashion in the Triangle

If you can't beat them (the NYFW go-er's, that is), join them. And that's what a crowd of designers, stylists, and fashion-lovers did Sunday at Poole's Diner, the same day DVF and JT wowed the crowds at Bryant Park. Check out all of the photos from the FashionSPARK Fundraising Brunch here. If you still haven't got your full-fashion fix - and why would you have? - show up Friday, September 19th at Moore Square for the runway show featuring the FashionSPARK 2008 designers.

Leaving you with a delicious favorite.

Be the change. . . and welcome to Fashion Week

Gandhi's oft-quoted "Be the change you want to see in the world" has never looked so lovely as it does stitched en Francais on Rachel Roy's slim sheath. It's pure perfection, as well as a gentle reminder, and a witty way to kick off New York Fashion Week.

I'll be there in spirit of course, but plan on celebrating in absentia listening to MGMT's Kids and wishing it was already spring 2009 and that I was wearing Roy's cool confection below. Enjoy the tents.

Good Morning Upper East Siders.

It's back. The delightfully vicious, deliciously meta, well-dressed world of Gossip Girl. Who doesn't love a good scandal, a lover's reunion, cat fight, or [white] party where the beautiful people quotient is challenged only by the designer clothing count? Um, no one that I know. Add society style icon (and someone who looks to be genuinely nice) Tinsley Mortimer to the mix and you've got the guest list for my 30th Birthday Bash.

I could admit this long before last night's premier, but Gossip Girl has permanently knocked (or designer handbag walloped) The Hills off my guilty pleasure list. A.) I don't fear I'm losing brain cells by watching it, and B.) It's just better. Josh Schwartz, I'd follow you to any teen-centric drama.

And yes, a guilty pleasure it still is. Even with the literary cameo by Jay McInerney (Bright Lights, Big City), the soap and all of its excess is just pure, entertaining pleasure. No higher meaning there. And what's wrong with that?

You know you love it.

Let there be light. . . and color

I left NYC last week at that perfect early time of morning. The cab took me up by the East River and as we approached the FDR, I saw beautiful, golden rays of light dancing through the buildings. As we reached the water's edge, the light played off of the trees and was echoed on the water. Breathtaking. See you soon fall.

It's catching, the Dewey Color System. Two of my favorite people have participated and blogged about their results. So of course I became curious. Want to delight in color? Yes. Want to find out something you maybe knew about yourself, but needed to reaffirm? Yes. Take the test, pick the colors, smile at the reminder of yourself.

Perhaps this is the most appropriate time to introduce my DCS results, it is in fact my second post on a blog that has been secured, but empty for almost a month now. Mmmmh, and what exactly does that say about me both an ardent creator of the written word and a somewhat creature of habit? We'll see what the next test may tell. For now, here's what Dewey and his multi-colored exam had to say:

You're an Entertainer
By paying close attention to everyone's emotions, you better understand yourself and others. Your exciting, concerned energy compels people to express themselves. When you hear how others feel, you clearly see their kindness, love, pain, and fear.

So, there I am. Hello. Looking forward to getting to know you, and me more.

I'll leave you with one of my favorite sights.

For Like Ever

For Like Ever. One of my favorite phrases. Thank you very much to the super-cool foundry, village for putting that phrase on paper, making it a "larger, hopeful statement." For Like Ever, as told by village, is meant to signify the excitement and fear of a new beginning. Perfectly put, I think. New beginnings though filled with excitement are also wrought with fear and change. New beginnings show us exactly what we've got inside. With fall on the very near horizon, a move in the future and only the hope for tomorrow, I would say now is as good a time as any to begin my blog: view from the second floor.

View from the second floor is dedicated to the spot where I happily spend the majority of my time: the white haven (save one cut ruby floor-to-ceiling wall) that is my office. Looking out and over is one of my favorite pastimes. When I'm suffering writer's block, I find inspiration. When I'm restless, I find comfort. In what? In the street scape, the constant flow of people, and the occasional antic/fashion victim/familiar passerby/bank robbery. Oh, and I truly love the view.

I would be remiss if I didn't mention my dear sister, Kelli (also known as the best dancer) for it is she that For Like Ever belongs to. Sisters (thanks mom + dad) to roommates and best friends (thanks a to the k). Kelli just started off on her own new beginning in Boston. Taking with her, yep you guessed it, her very own For Like Ever print as a reminder. And a constant.

So, here's to new beginnings. To the excitement, fear, change, love, spontaneity, comfort, constants, restless desires and to the unknown. For like ever.