Scenes from Warsaw.

me and teepee on thefrisky.com, which by the way she is

Duh. She is.
I'll blame my bloated looking face on the pierogies.

A day of hobgoblins and pierogies.

You know what you should do on Sunday? You should come to the Bust Craftacular at the Warsaw in Greenpoint and then head over to the Elf Power Happy Hour to listen to some threnodies (a new word I just learned), dirges, and anthems. After the show is over (or while it's going on) you should purchase one of these (very) limited addition posters I designed.

Alabater, Argosy, and Dexter Sinister.

I love specificity, dedication, and obsession. All can be found in spades at the blog Books in New York. I was answering some questions for a writer this morning and one included, "Do you have any off-the-wall design practices, rituals, etc?" My answer: " Whenever I begin a new project, I head to my favorite used book store with a cup of my favorite iced cardamom coffee. If I strike gold at the 50cent and dollar carts, I consider the project blessed and an auspicious undertaking." Which, for the record, I don't consider to be off-the-wall at all.

My castle, my books.

I snuck 2 books in without telling you: The World in the Evening by Christopher Isherwood and the thoroughly irritating and biased Anastasia by James B. Lovell. I wanted to believe in her, but that inconsistent and illogical tome didn't make me clap for dying fairies or lost Grand Duchesses.

You who brushed the lip of lintels.

Listen, now, again in 10 minutes from now, again in three hours from now, again before slumber, many hours from now.

(found via Fashionista)

What's better than 2 moccasins?

Four moccasins.
Coming to the feet of you know who this fall.

On the occasion of my 29th...

I shall be selling Jezebel at the new Brooklyn Flea. Look for me in the design*sponge collective. I'll have tees and onesies and stationery and some general Jezebel detritus and will be joined by Tiffany P., the only vintage queen I know adorned with an adolescent Michael Jackson tattoo, and her insane stash of Southern treasures. To quote TP, "I own one of everything in the world." Come and get it.

See what the editors of W had to say about the Flea.

Heart of the Country.

Ideas of savagely manicured 18th century landscapes in class this morning have me thinking about this image of Kate Moss tripping across the moors like Catherine searching for her rock and roll Heathcliff.

If I were Jane Birkin,

I'd tote Teepee around town in this.

Jane and Serge, with her signature pre-Hermes bag

Jane and Serge and Jane's...

Pom-poms for Teepee.

I'm a big fan of pom-poms. Teepee is a big fan of gnawing on pom-poms. Ergo, this is the blanket for us.

O is for...

Thank you to our friends at the newly launched OZOlife for waxing so poetically about Jezebel. Jezebel is particularly rosy-cheeked for having been classified as a cult object.

Tea for two, and custom Jezebel, too.

a custom postcard for a family of seven, moving from the city to the country

Brooklyn Flea

where I was this weekend- mellow yellow!

I shoulda shoulda shoulda posted before this weekend that I'll be at the Brooklyn Flea next Sunday and the 27th in the design*sponge collective. I'm sorry to have missed the opening weekend, but the Sunshine State beckoned. The divine Miss Tiffany Porter will be selling jewels from her massive vintage collection at my table, and there'll be a special little four-legged guest as well.

Under the shadow of the Williamsburg Bridge,

there is a jewelry shop called Bittersweets, run by a girl named Robin, with a black and white bunny. It is well worth the walk to the South Side to visit her enchanted treasure chest, and to experience a Williamsburg of days gone by. I wear a rose gold letter ring by Bittersweets on my left pinkie; it reads "BOB," as in Dylan. I just finished designing Robin's business cards and I couldn't be happier to have done so.

Little Big in Japan.

Teepee with the Nylon Japan team at Catbird .

A star is born!

Strangers on a Train.

Lynn Yaeger, via The Sartorialist

North by Northwest

Teepee and I spotted Lynn Yaeger on the Long Island Railroad last week. I'd like to say that Teepee recognized the fashion reporter for The Village Voice, Vogue, and T: The New York Times Style Magazine, but really she's too little to be interested in reading magazines- her focus is more on gnawing on them. Anyhow, I like to imagine that Ms. Yaeger was attending a cocktail hour at a Gold Coast estate, a la North by Northwest, without the kidnapping subplot, of course, but with a gorgeous icy Hitchcock femme to save the day. Ms. Yaeger has this to say about her perfect day:

My perfect day still begins with me staring up at what is one of the most breathtaking sights in the retail pantheon—the ceiling of the main floor of Bergdorf Goodman. The uniformed doormen may be gone, the penthouse apartment the Goodman family inhabited long replaced by a beauty parlor, but that ivory and pink plaster wedding-cake ceiling is every bit as resplendent as it was in 1928, the year, smack between two world wars, when Bergdorf's opened. Since it's my perfect day, I'm wearing something splendid yet raffish, something that could have cost $10 or $1000 and that gives me the air of a faded Italian movie star.

AMEN, SISTER.

Old out tonight, or I love a good neurotic.

The last time I was at the other-wordly Beacon Theatre was to see PJ Harvey perform from White Chalk, in a show that rang with a fierce Victorian vaudeville jangle. She was gorgeous. That night there was a little typo with the signage in front of the theatre which seems apropos for Shine A Light, Scorsese's new Rolling Stones concert film filmed at the Beacon, opening this weekend. It's been nearly two years since KP and I watched Neil Young: Heart of Gold and I do believe it is a high time for another visit with of legendary figures in iconic spaces in the flickering dark of a downtown Manhattan cinema house.

Shine a Light trailer

In the deepest ocean/The bottom of the sea

I have a birthday coming up and I wouldn't say no to the gift of these crazy framed Japanese pearl displays from the 1930s. They chart the maturity of oysters in months and years which is very, very informative considering all the deep sea diving I do.

I've always wanted a feather headress from Cameroon.

All sorts of gorgeous uselessness to dream about from Ruzzeti and Gow. Except that peacock, which is terribly useful if you're a vagabond stationer.

These are a few of my favorite things.

"I'll let you be in my dreams, if I can be in yours,"
I said that.

A lazy Sunday with Teepee yielded this fruit, an ode to...