A woman is a woman is not a Raj.

Have a look: clearly Jackie Kennedy was not the adult-in-costume sort either. She looks awfully uncomfortable, sandwiched between Oleg Cassini and photographer Benno Graziani, modeling souvenirs she brought home from India.

Kimono Riot.

Blue and Violet: La Belle de Jour, James Whistler, 1885

It would be very inappropriate (and very nippy) to walk around town in various states of kimono-undress, Whistler-subject style. This amazing, slightly insane ring by Amie Louise Plante gets the Japanese- nouveau-dishabille job done without the...dishabille.

Halloweenie? Pas moi.

As I might or might not have mentioned here before, I am not a great fan of costumes on adults.  They make me quite uncomfortable and I am convinced that I would revert to my 8 year old self and cry silently if confronted with those horrific life-sized characters at Disney World, et al.  That being said, a huge thank you to the glorious Emine of Cloven Hoof for bestowing me with my very own human tooth necklace.  I've twined the necklace around my wrist for I do love a bracelet (evidence above).  Further significance to this gift, unbeknownst to Emine: in dental school, my father cast a to-scale human tooth he had carved into a gold necklace for my mother (said necklace in now part of my collection of precious relics).  Come to Catbird to see Cloven Hoof in all it's splendor- I had a very nice time draping the grouse foot and scarab necklaces over porcelain hands.  

His office.

Gianni Agnelli, that is. Makes sense, no?

Son of a butcher.

Tight times call for the ultimate creativity in decorating and nesting matters. It's nice to have these somewhat somber flights of fancy from the paintbrush of friend to Elsa Peretti, John Gielgud, Edward Albee, et al., Jeremiah Goodman to prod me along in scavenging and re-purposing.

Empress Josephine and the Patchouli scented Pandora's box.

Back in the days when I would drop orders off at Saved (now Hotel Delmano) I would always have a coffee at St. Helen (also defunct) and visit CB I Hate Perfume, (blissfully thriving). Amongst all the seductive scents in his tidy, light space I could still sniff out a fellow bibliophile.  Everything Christopher Brosius creates is lyrical and thoughtful, indeed so thoughtful that I am considering changing my opinion on Patchouli based on the story behind his Patchouli Empire.  

I also discovered that Patchouli first came to the attention of the western world one of my favorite periods of history the Regency/Empire era of the early nineteenth century. The cashmere shawls made so fashionable by the Empress Josephine & the heroines of Jane Austen novels arrived in Europe rolled in patchouli leaves. This protected the delicate fabric from being devoured by moths on the long sea voyage from India. The scent of the leaves was so pervasive that for a very long time afterward, a faint exotic perfume still wafted from these popular wraps. My inspiration for Patchouli  EMPIRE is that subtle scent the Empress Josephine might have smelled when she first opened a teak box of cashmere shawls sent to her from India.

Synecdoche, New York.

Glad to have been weirdly close last evening.
Hope to be weirdly close again very soon.
I cannot recommend strongly enough for you to get weirdly close, too.

My castle, my books.

Walking about today, I picked up Housekeeping, a Politics & Prose favorite. I've yet to begun, partly because my eyes keep circling back to this, by Anatole Broyard: Housekeeping sounds as if the author has been treasuring it up all her life, waiting for it to form itself...

Then and Now.

on the Johnny Cash show, 1969

2000

The cutest family, ever?

All of a sudden, Texas doesn't sound too terrible and I am inspired to make magic out of my tiny, beat-up wardrobe. It doesn't included any Prada or Tom Binns rhinestone cuffs and is sadly short on perfect vintage sequin numbers and I am probably a good number of inches shorter than she, but nonetheless, Sea of Shoes has me determined to twist my faded blacks and vintage fur into something more.

Teepee in the morning.

What I do not know.

The sheer gorgeousness of this photo makes me queasy. Born in 1987? How is this happening?

Update: Rony just sent me this Maureen Dowd op-ed, partly about Colin Powell's reaction to this photograph: “I stared at it for an hour,” he told me. “Who could debate that this kid lying in Arlington with Christian and Jewish and nondenominational buddies was not a fine American?”

Call her Bonsai.

As Teepee and I meet folks about town they often like to tell me what they own (usually in pet form) that is bigger than Teepee. Today, though, I heard the best one. A woman enthusiastically told me that her "goldfish is bigger than Teepee." Really? I just looked up the world's largest goldfish and that sucker clocked in at 18.7 inches in the Netherlands. So, still not likely, but possible, I suppose.

Let your mercy spill

Antony's performance of Leonard Cohen's "If It Be Your Will" breaks my heart. Antony walked by Catbird a few weeks ago, and a customer leaving the store exclaimed, "I know who you are! I love you!" The very tall man all in white looked down and very warmly and benevolently clucked at her. Like a mama hen. It was lovely.

On a side note, do you think his sweater inspired Rodarte?

Paper Doll Dresser.

I'm hauling home a friend's discarded dresser this week and I'm thinking of doing it up in this gorgeous marbled paper just like the Deal Hunter. These tough times call for scrappy and scavenged decorating. More on scavenging later...

Stowaway.

I'm loathe to use the word romantic, but wouldn't it be romantic to spend a night in the Guggenheim? I wonder if you'd have any, ehem, privacy.

Blue Eyes and the Blondes.

Kate Moss on meeting Frank Sinatra: "He kissed me on the lips, then gave me a filterless cigarette. I came off all lightheaded. He was fabulous."

But of course.

dear earl greyhound - love jezebel

I designed this shirt for my friends, Earl Greyhound. They're out on the road, touring for the next few months. You ought to go see their show, as it's really as good as rock and roll gets. Buy a tee from them, too, and I dare you not to be irritable with anticipation waiting for the release of their (to be recorded this winter) new album.

Jezebel at the Brooklyn Flea- this Sunday!

I'll be selling Jezebel tees, totes, prints, holiday cards, and a smattering of vintage including some insane Fendi boots at the Brooklyn Flea, this Sunday the 26th. Come visit and buy, buy, buy!

The Cosmopolitan.

My friend Ardi nearly always makes me delete photos of him from my camera after I take them. I have a slew of shots I've hidden from him that I think are quite charming but I'll refrain from posting them here, as Ardi and I are both of the reserved variety. I suppose it's also easy to be a snob about my photography skills when your visage has been captured by Zubin Shroff and included in his book, The Cosmopolitans. This photo is all right, but I've got one from a few New Years ago with Ardi in a party hat, practically swimming in champagne, that is pretty darned special.

Laureate in the afternoon.

2008 Nobel Prize winner in literature, Jean-Marie Gustave Le Clézio, photographed by Henri Cartier-Bresson. Too frustrating that the "author of new departures, poetic adventure and sensual ecstasy, explorer of a humanity beyond and below the reigning civilization," is unavailable in English. Too, too frustrating that years upon years of French class leave me needing the English translation. I could probably read Madeline in French. And that's only because I have it memorized from childhood. In a small house in Paris all covered in vines, lived twelve little girls in two straight lines...

So many mothers sighing.

Too sweet, too sad. The Selby strikes again.

I've never seen so many electric jellyfish in all my life.

While Wall Street is spinning of its' axis and prosperity seemed like a dream, which it might've been as the geese cooked the books, great scientific strides collide with the charmingly inept, fictional world of Steve Zissou.

A cup of Jo. A cup of Joe. Equally delightful.

I absolutely forgot to tell you that sweet Joanna offered up some Jezebel goods as her Wednesday giveaway.  I've been luxuriating in the sweet praise that FREE!!! inspires.  

Many happy returns to you, The Shiny Squirrel.

In celebration of The Shiny Squirrel's one year anniversary, Jessica is offering a secret, special, surprise gift to all customers who spend more than $20 (and do make sure to mention you read about the offer here). Now, I know the economy is bad, but it's not that bad. Right? Oh, jeez. Well, play on, play on, as the ship slips and sinks and get thee to the Shiny Squirrel and buy yourself some Jezebel or this very Klimtian Jessica Hahn print or whatever else you might fancy and bonne anniversaire Jessica!