Cooling off.

I just made some cold peanut noodles with ginger and lime and some very hot baby okra. Hot even for a heat-loving vegetarian such as myself (according to my friend Gabe, vegetarians love hot sauce because it makes our food edible.) These photos of Rachel Feinstein and John Currin are so, so wonderfully cool and kooky and refreshing and continue to convince me that they are straight out of the world of Peggy Guggenheim, Jackson Pollock, Diego and Frida, et al. Along with Isabel and Ruben Toledo, they are caped crusaders, modern day champions of old-fashioned, elusive matrimonial bliss.

(1st image from style.com, 2nd from The Telegraph)

There I found my Selma.

photo from the Times

Turquoise jewelry? Yes! Gold spray-painted walls? Yes! Fur of the non-thrift store variety? No thank you. Regardless, read this fascinating story about Irving Feller, the artist/furrier/romantic behind Manhattan Furrier, in Greenpoint- I learned about him through The Moment. I would like to visit him and then have a beer at Papacito's, followed by dinner at The Queen's Hideaway.

Ada's faded revolutionaries, all in gleaming furs.

I'm not particularly a tea person; I am particularly a coffee person. I find tea to be very dry - not without flavor, it just feels oddly...dry, for a liquid. I am, however a beautiful packaging/company with serious history person (Kusmi was founded in St Petersburg in 1867 and re-located to Paris on the eve of the Russian Revolution), so I now plotting which Kusmi tea to purchase. It might be the smoky Earl Grey or the spicy chocolate.

Spirit Animal House - tonight at Piano's!

Go! Bid on the Jezebel goods I donated and all the other wonderfulness, too. All proceeds benefit BARC, et al.

My castle, my books.

I recently devoured Anne Sexton: A Biography by Diane Middlebrook. On a lighter note, to counter-balance the ideas of "the mental hospital as a metaphorical space in which to articulate the crazy-making pressures of middle-class life, particularly for women," Sexton has invigorated my commitment to sending thank you cards, and proper correspondence. A novel notion for a stationer, no? I found this note, dashed off after drinks at the Algonquin, particularly delightful:

You were utterly charming and distinguished, and I would
have liked a third Bloody Mary and more laughter.

A knight in shining white.

Blow-Up

David Rager and Cheri Messerli from The Selby

Aside from the obvious allure of the brunettes in both of these photos, they provide excellent sartorial inspiration for KP, who is quite taken with photo-taking, Blow-Up, white denim, and button-downs with pushed up sleeves.

p.s. further inspiration

To Saipua with Love.

I sadly don't know Sarah from Saipua in real life, but a post like this makes me think I do. Literature, ritual, dumplings by the beach! A girl after my own heart (except for the fact that she posted at 7:19 am- I'm getting better at mornings, but not that much better.)

Jezebel loves her ABC

Jezebel is back on the shelves in Cursive at ABC Carpet & Home. I fear that if I walk through those doors, my footloose and furniture-less, new-apartment-having self might weep with envy and desire. Thanks to the ever-wonderful M.K. of Cursive for taking these lovely shots.

Silhouettes and The Selby.

I can't get enough. Yeah, yeah, me and everyone else. Sometimes it's okay to join the bandwagon.

Brave new anachronistic world.

Vivienne Westwood explains it all, perfectly:

... it may refer to the past, but it's always
projected into this heroic future.
Precisely the thought I've been fumbling around for, oh, way to long to not have come up with a way to say it on my own.

Reminder: Old Hollywood!

Don't forget: Tiffers is opening a store! Old Hollywood will debut in September, right across the street from Fred Flare. Amongst other treasures, Old Hollywood will be selling Jezebel tees and cards and spillover from my time at the Brooklyn Flea (see above photo.) Oh, Old Hollywood, we (Teepee and me) anticipate spending lots of quality time with you. Why, you ask? Because:

We listen to records and wear petticoats. We drink bourbon and eat coconuts. We ride skateboards in mini-skirts. We play accordions and develop film. We are Old Hollywood.

Woolf is my lady.

A most simple and perfect invitation to Lorick's debut show at New York fashion week. I love tucking little gifts into outgoing packages and I now have the room to indulge my formerly space-restricted, battered-book buying self.

Speaking of fashion week, KP and I will be attending Tibi's presentation, courtesy of our dear and darling pigeon expert, Martha MP.

(image from stylefile)

Moss, again.

This time, she's at the scene of the sublime and delicious crime: Cagaloglu Hamami. Go to the website, take the virtual tour. Scratch that. Book a flight to Turkey right now. And get a ticket for me, too. I have a dear, wild friend in Istanbul. We can stay with her. All the baklava and watermelon and feta you can eat is on me. Just take me with you. The only thing better than a Turkish bath is a Turkish bath in Turkey.

Dark and stormy.

Lula, issue #7, come quick!

Hercules and Love Affair.

I've worked with Kim Ann of Hercules and Love Affair (she's the siren calling forth on crystal glasses) a handful of times. She is truly the nicest and the video is truly the the kookiest. I would love to see it projected in the back room of MonkeyTown, while tipsy on some gin martinis served in a highball glass - I loathe martini glasses. I don't like tottering about with stemware.

Light bright, loud night.

Cleo from 5 to 7

Kate Moss, Hedi Slimane

new apt = new stories
new apt = nostalgia

Listening to Mazzy Star has me thinking about Dr. Martens. I had three pairs; maroon mary janes, classic black 8 eye boots, and a floral print boot that I was too impatient to wait for in the right size. Young and dumb. A lucky girl, though, to have a dad purchase such footwear for me, though he probably thought it all sinfully ugly. My dad also scribbled a little drawing on the side of my Converse high tops.

My castle, my books.

Katharine Hepburn, May Day, Bryn Mawr 1928

Reading Me: Stories of My Life by Katharine Hepburn. Kate the Great didn't like her freshman year at Bryn Mawr. I didn't like my freshman year at Bryn Mawr. She stayed, I left. Gives one pause.

My castle, my books.

Lady Caroline Lamb

Hot tip: don't get engrossed in a really good book when it comes time to unpack boxes. Damn you, Caro: The Fatal Passion, The Life of Lady Caroline Lamb. You are mad, bad and dangerous to know.

So long, farewell

Alexandra Danilova in Swan Lake via Condenet

I'm moving house over the next week - a new neighborhood and new apartment with room enough for an office! A flurry of nesting posts to follow.

Lord of the earrings.

I'm half-elf with my one pointy ear. If I didn't wear my ants every day, I might rock these. K for KP, of course.

It started with clouds, it ended with dark.

KP and Julia and some dude I don't know were all wearing the same Jezebel tee shirt on the ferry to All Points West. In other tee shirts news, I really love all the ones from the current Radiohead tour.

A maiden voyage.

image of Marlow and Sons from the beautiful Porter Hovey Polaroid Project

Dear Marlow and Sons,

I dreamt about you last night. I whispered your name in my sleep. I might even eat oysters for you.

faithfully yours,
Jezebel

My partially cracked poetess.

I only read the New Yorker online.  Sometimes.  The siren call of a review of an Emily Dickinson biography, reviewed by Judith Thurman, illustrated by Maira Kalman is to0 seductive to be ignored.

"Among them are some of the greatest (poems) ever written in English, but an English unique to her- an unworn language."

Through the rabbit hole, Polaroid flashing.

do the ghosts of A New York Past work here?

I just browsed through Porter Hovey's Polaroid Project blog. I love seeing familiar spaces, and I also love how it's as though she walks around Williamsburg with blinders on, and only sees what she wants to see, which is mostly what I want to see, too.

It sure is.

I love the unabashed joy of this journal, from one of my favorite journal makers, available at the unabashedly joyful Fred Flare.

I paid for play.

Jezebel's first advertisement is in the current issue of Bust. Bust, I toast you and raise a glass to your magic Midas touch.

Robber barons and redheads.

We spent Saturday with KP's parents, in town from Bucks County, home to the Pearl S. Buck House, though apparently not named for Mrs. Buck. The day began with brunch at Public, where a certain Sex and the City cast member was dining across the way, which really does begin a Manhattan day with a certain sort of luster. We then visited the Frick, a treasured Jezebel stockist, where KP surreptitiously took these photos (I believe I've already mentioned to you that breaking rules makes me nervous, but he is rather fearless). After an ice cream cone and a tour of Bergdorf's, we landed at Lupa (translation: she-wolf), where dinner began with a bellini and ended with cantaloupe sorbet. We then returned to Brooklyn, where Teepee and Coral had spent the day listening to Bitches Brew. Our pets love them some Miles.

Good queue!

Clara Rockmore, Theremin virtuoso, Theremin paramour

Sometimes the Netflix queue is just perfect. On tap for this stationer: Theremin, An Electronic Odyssey, Valerie and Her Week of Wonders, and My Family and Other Animals. A perfect antidote to the filthy dirty mass culture binging KP and I have been doing lately.

The Queen's Hideaway

I had one very special dinner at The Queen's Hideaway a little over 2 years ago; when we arrived we had to oust the house pitbull from our table, and the wine list was full of rock and roll analogies. I ordered a glass of the Bob Dylan red, I'm sure. Tonight, inspired by an article on the Queen in Edible Brooklyn, I made a variation on a dish I had there- chilled sugar snap peas and cherries dressed in soy-chili. Teepee looked at me longingly with every bite, and let me tell you, that dog has excellent taste.

Love on Elizabeth Street

Dinner on Elizabeth Street brings out the Mayle glutton in me. Truly, I could wear these pieces all fall and winter long. I particularly love the shearling collar- I have a similar thrift store fur piece that I wear morning, noon, and night as it pairs perfectly with dresses, boyfriend's tee shirts, and lace slips alike.

Speak, Memories

Cindy Greene at home, New York City, July 2008

Todd Selby photographs folks and their possessions. I can't get enough. It's fun to see some familiar faces from the days I spend on Bedford Avenue.

(found via A Cup of Jo)

Fans!

Are you out there? Please become a fan of Jezebel on Facebook!

Bjork paper dolls.

In an effort to help Bjork put some clothes on, I've picked out these outfits from the fall 2008 couture shows. Your welcome, Bjork. It was my pleasure.

(from style.com- Anne Valerie Hash, Elie Saab, Givenchy, Jean Paul Gaultier)

Sunshine of your love.

KP and I slipped away to the beach yesterday. Beaching feels like it needs to be at least 2 days to really take hold and shake the city out of you, though I do love a good day on the sand, and night at a roof party or an excellent bar garden. Though I'm always rather desperate at the idea of a beach vacation, this summer I'm saving my nickels and dimes for something else. I usually spend a weekend with my college lady loves at Congress Hall in Cape May, where the ballroom with the robin's egg walls and chipped black and white harlequin painted on wooden plank floors, and the cool marble stairwells flanked by soaring, fading mirrors sends my sun-addled mind into deliriums of filling the halls with friends in fancy dress, scribbling and strumming madly. Instead, I will be cooking up vats of this summer-corn salad, to load on corn tortillas with cabbage slaw, guacamole, and lots of lime and hot sauce, because as we know, all vegetarians are addicted to hot sauce.