sales and pondering

ah well. the bird that i heard that mentioned the word of an additional 30% off at Bergdorf's was mistaken... sad, but probs for the best in terms of shoes i should not be purchasing. there were, however - some great markdowns - and some amazing new stuff, including some fun new jewelry on the 5th floor, "5F" as they like to call it - including Jennifer Zeuner. i always like finding someone new whose stuff i may not have seen - and i have to admit i spent some time looking at her pieces. so much so that it distracted me from the shoes on sale. WHAT?! (as a little aside - there is also a great selection of her jewelry online at singer22)

i'm in the resto at B'dorfs, waiting for my friend Laura in our meeting place of choice for hightea service. i am staring at a table of 3 women. i wonder (as i often do in B'dorf's) where in the world they get their money... married into it? family? can't quite figure it? these ladies fall squarely into the category which proves one of my commandments. "money does not equal style". now -- this works both ways. there are skads of girls on the streets of NY, London, Paris who ooze style - it wafts around them like a heady perfume. they are not decked out in designers or the latest trend. they're in things they've most likely altered themselves. (a fave passtime of yours truly) and they are wearing what will most likely be the NEXT trend. on the flip side of the coin - there are the tragically rich. they ooze money. they have expensive hair, makeup, clothes, the works. and not one ounce of style. i wish there a word for it. what it is, is a sloppy rich mess.

until Laura arrives to block my view - i can't take my eyes of the 3 such creatures. one may or may not be that Fantasia person from American Idol. there's a blinding amount of enormous chunky jewelry. the other 2 are blonde. fully (overly) made up - artfully (overly) coiffed. attempting to be casual with Uggs - but missing the mark with the contrived "outfits" and dizzying amounts of diamonds and fur. (of note, the hideous atrocity that is a poncho made out of a multitude of furry tails. it's literally an ass poncho and looks thus) they believe it all works. it makes me feel a little bad for them.

all the money in the world clearly could not buy them an idea of style. i sit and sip my water, and mentally rifle through what i am wearing. an old thermal undershirt that i shredded the neck off; an old Missoni tunic thrown on top of it; an ancient beloved cashmere hat stretched almost beyond regognition; a scarf from H&M; my Levis jeans, and rubber snow boots. Laura arrives and squeals that she could spot me from the entrance by how much style i was projecting
across the room. i smile and i feel like a million bucks.