Watching American Gigolo.
Wearing Coco Chanel-esque silk pajamas.
And red lipstick.
And eating Haagen-Dazs…
Straight out of the tub.
Sometimes it’s nice to just embrace the cliche and take it as far as you can go.
Each week, another layer becomes necessary… scarves, then gloves, then hats. Each day, the BBC predicts snow and then quietly rainchecks it for 24 hours later. I’ve spent the weekend in bed, thankful for my orange walls and red wardrobe. Everything feels cosier in here. I’ve already sorted a local cafe (with thick slabs of rich chocolate brownie and good coffee) just around the corner, and there’s a gastro pub offering fine beer and burgers right beneath my house. In short – leaving the house something proper is losing its appeal.
Winter has me wishing for…
Dreams come true…
I’m thankful for the lovely winter treats already in my life.
Tales from Outer Suburbia by Shaun Tan, a strange and lovely picture book to read in bed.
My red original Hunters wellies. I am not terribly excited about the impending snow, although I’m sure it will be very pretty for a while. But these will get me through it. They are totally puddle-jumping, snow-drift-diving boots. And also worn by Emily Zak of British Vogue, I hope I can incorporate them into my outfits with similar panache!
Warmly yours, S&S x
This interview, with Anja Aronowsky Cronberg of new sartorial magazine Vestoj, is completely inspirational. For starters, Anja is only 31 and has such a string of achievements to her name already – including several years as editor at Acne Paper. But really, I’m all about her amazing breakfast:
My current favourite is the following: Cook one cup of porridge with one and a half cups of milk. Mix in a pinch of salt and plenty of cinnamon. Throw a quarter of a handful of sunflower seeds and just as many pumpkin seeds into a bowl and add linseeds too. Then put half a handful of raisins into the mix. And chop nuts, brazil nuts and hazelnuts and almonds, and toss them into the bowl too. Then mash a banana. Then add the porridge and stir everything together. Then fill it up with a little more milk till you get the right consistency. Et voila, the perfect winter breakfast!
And she says she’s not a cook! Puts my half-sliced-banana and dash of brown sugar to shame.
You know you’re getting comfortable with a guy when the big goodbye is approaching and you go out for a farewell breakfast, all big-eyes and unable to look away, aware of every second passing, and you end up ordering… this:
(If you click to enlarge you can practically taste it…)
Taking Mum for her first cocktail ever at Astral Bar, on top of the casino, with beautiful night time views over the whole skyline. Mum had something with passionfruit and egg-white froth, and mine was all smashed raspberries.
The Alannah Hill store. All pink and chandellaires and poofy cushions and subversive girl music. Fussy tops with bows and pearls and frou frou skirts. Ridiculous salesgirls tottering about with tiny straw hats and white lace stockings and super high heels, exclaiming over the tiniest thing. I think I want to move in. I left with a pale pale apricot frou frou skirt and a cream and very proper fitted cardy with tiny dark studded beads.
This is how Alannah Hill makes you feel (and those are clothes from her latest collection). I can’t believe I didn’t spot the oversized bow headband instore. Want want want.
I’m in love with the boys at New World Metro’s produce department. There’s this new display near the checkout, where fruit and vege assortments have been glad-wrapped up in those polystyrene trays, like meat. It’s so obnoxiously over packaged. But whoever’s doing it is having fun – they all have labels like “Phils Big Nose Fruit” or “I’m Fine Package” or the myspace address of (presumably) one of their bands. The whole concept is so ridiculous – who wouldn’t rather choose their own banana off the pile? – and the staff seem very aware of that. The other day there was a tray containing just a bulb of garlic and a beetroot. Mmm, convenience.
Before it get’s too ridiculous, in a get-over-it-already kind of way, here are my last two NYC posts for A Cat On The Wall:
Who Isn’t Afraid of Patrick Wolf – in which I get all gushy over the British bombshell and bitch out the band who opened for him. I actually feel kinda bad about how scatterbrained that post is because Patrick deserves far more attention and kudos than I could muster at 1am when I wrote it. Check out The Magic Position & Wolf Song vids at the bottom of this entry if you wanna see for yourself.
Five Things I’ll Miss From Friday – Just a meandering through a few of the things I’m pining for. If I wanted to wallow in self-pity I’d now add: warm poppyseed bagels with thickly spread cream cheese, the eternal promise of celebrities just around the corner, boys who are not blokes, getting drunk on the proximity of multiple Picassos, buskers on the subway (ok they were annoying at the time), cocktails on rooftops, and summer summer summer. But! People understand what I am saying on the phone here and that makes up for a lot.
The other night, I walked into a restaurant and realised as soon as I was seated that it was a Poor Choice. The menu featured all the food genres – stirfries, pizza, pasta, Americana – I was fooled by the French name on the door. So I chose a cheap, standard option to minimise my losses (burger) and came home all dissatisfied. And then I wrote a post for A Cat On The Wall all about how to avoid such situations and have AWESOME solo dining experiences. It made me feel better and you can read it here.
As a side note, the pictures in that post which I am stealing to use again here, are of my favourite restaurant in NYC, The Minetta Tavern and it’s notoriously decadent Black Label Burger. (If you are really into burgers you can even read this article about how perfectly it is made.)
My ten year old friend couldn’t believe I’d never been to Max Brenner, and positively dragged me there on Sunday. Thank goodness for her fine taste. You walk in the door and suddenly you’re inhaling chocolate. It’s a classier Wonka-land, with vats and tubes of liquid chocolate, but no neon (or decapitated chicken slideshows).
- Of course chocolate pizza is classy!
There are three menus. The children’s one is pictured below, and includes a chocolate burger, alongside my personal favourite – a huge syringe filled with chocolate you can squirt in your mouth. Disgusting/Delicious? You be the judge.
- I have few ambitions beyond trying each of these
- The Illegal Chocolate Chocolate Chocolate Pancakes
I had the chocolate pancakes (from the adults menu, because I’m mature like that). I just could not stop smiling. Half the fun is pouring the liquid choc over it yourself and making a terrible mess.
My friend went for what sounded like a healthier option – the Tutti Fruity crepes. Rather than actual fruit though, they arrived studded with Gummi Bears. She wasn’t too disappointed…