family addition.

i am having an acute bout of cabin fever. cabin fever as in i don’t want to be in cape town anymore, i want to go on my trip now. i do fully accept that all of you not living here will probably want to hit me over the head right about now for complaining. i get that, but i simply cannot sit still anymore and i am not quite sure how i will manage the next four weeks.

i would soothe my cravings with a little road trip, but there is a new addition in my family that makes the budget a bit tight. which is okay, because she is beautiful and i love her so much already.

Fashion Chronicles - part 4.

Dedicated to all (my) fashion lovers & haters from all times and places.

Bad Hersfeld

The one distinct fashion item I can remember was also one of high embarrassment: Buffalo shoes. The platform heels went high and higher and everyone was wearing them. At some point even I couldn’t resist and bought a pair of ankle boots with 10cm heels, 2 sizes too big as per usual since I needed them in time for a party. My outfit and the party was a smashing success and made me go a bit crazy since I felt the need for a second pair afterwards. This time the fashion police should have been on my high, high heels as I got a pair of mint coloured, suede clogs. I have nothing to say in my defence.

New York

The devil wears Prada and so did we. If you had the honour to work at Vogue as a fashion assistant, you would manage to walk around wearing little Chloe dresses with some very fashionable high, high heels. Why? Because you work at Vogue and it’s not too hard to walk in heels if you have a town car at your disposal to get you around. I didn’t work for Vogue and had to use the subway – therefore Old Navy flip flops or vintage motorcycle boots with the Chloe dresses. The one time I attempted to walk in heels on a New York sidewalk, I literally ended up flat on my face and deep in humiliation.

Cape Town

I am waiting for a guy to show up not wearing shorts and slops on a date and girl to say to me at the supermarket “Wow, what a beautiful bag. Is that Pucci?” I have been waiting for a long time. I haven’t given up yet. I’m still waiting. In the meanwhile I hope that the guy who stole one of my Pucci bags, was in fact one of the ignorant ones, threw it out so now some old lady, who found it at the side of the road, is walking around with a funny coloured bag in Gugulethu.

More tomorrow – what should it be? I’m thinking food, art&culture, sex, and favourite pets. What are you guys thinking?

New York Miss-Much

It might be the wind, but my mood is sombre today and I miss New York much. It might also be due to my New York friends leaving today. All I want to do is jump on the plane with them. Not even the 17 hour trip can be scarier than the prospect of staying behind right now. Mind you, in my mind it is summer in New York though...scorching August heat (I am the only crazy person firmly believing that August is the best month to visit New York). In my perfect August day I would like to...

... order iced coffee and get it right. Americano, ice cubes, done. New Yorker baristas do know that whether to add hot or cold water must not be asked.

... fight my way through the aisles of Century 21 and emerge with an oversized Martin Margiela jersey and yet another little Pucci bandana.

... be told by a stranger in the elevator that she likes my shoes and replying with a mysterious smile that says ‘I got them on sale, but I will never ever tell you’.

... be stuck in traffic in a yellow cab, missing the voice of Elmo saying “This is Elmo from Sesame Street. Elmo wants you to be safe. So please, buckle up for safety.”

... drink fresh lemonade at a street fair. I’m sure there is one somewhere. As a rule there is always one somewhere, each street in New York is worthy of celebration it seems.

... eat arepas at Caracas. The usual. Two La Del Gato with no plantains. And then being told (in Spanish, but I can gather as much) that having a La Del Gato without plantains is like, well, literally a cat without a tail.

... go to Barney’s. Just to look.*

... dinner at Bar Pitti with Sam. And the waiter standing next to me throughout the meal. Just in case I need more fresh parmesan cheese graded over my plate**. Which I will. That is a given.

So for now I will indulge myself in this bit of fantasy and hope that the wind will die down, so I can sit on my balcony and enjoy the city I’m actually in...just now.

*Of course this is a lie. You cannot ever just look when at Barney’s.

** Selecting pictures today makes me sad. So I was just browsing a bit and then decided against. But this I did find (the internet is a wondrous place) and have to share:

This is a picture of the original Rigatoni Pitti, which I always, always eat there.