Oneline Fashion Journal

I have this problem — I get fixated on something and I can’t stop buying every iteration of it. A couple of seasons ago I fell in love with the tweed Prada shoes with the curved metal heels and flower trim, so not only did I buy the pumps in brown but I also picked up the mules in burgundy. Let’s not even talk about my collection of embroidered Laineys… And frankly, every time I buy another Marc Jacobs bag — what with the hardware and the pockets — I feel like I’m repeating myself. And yet I can’t stop. Read the rest of this entry »

What’s the worst part of winter in New York City? Not the dirty snow or the crowded subways or my dry, pasty skin — or even the Michelin man effect of layering. I’d say the worst thing of all is the fact that in spite of your best-laid plans, it’s just too darn hard to dress in this weather. In your overheated apartment in the morning, you dress for the Arctic, then get on a subway where you half expect to see Richard Simmons at the other end of the car ’cause it’s like you’re sweating to the oldies, only to brave the cold in those last blocks on your way to the office. By the time you get to work, you need to take another shower — so you’re all cleaned up just in time to go relive the sweats and chills on the way home. Read the rest of this entry »

For some reason– oh, I can’t imagine why — I’ve been asked a lot recently how many pairs of shoes I own.

I hem, I haw. I say things like, “I’m not going to tell you!!!!” I change the subject.

In truth… um… er… I don’t count. And no, I don’t mean that I can’t count that high! I mean I won’t count. It’s one of those things — like defense lawyers who never ask their clients if they dunnit. Deniability, that’s what it’s all about.

I could guesstimate, I suppose, and if absolutely pressed to divulge some sort of number, I’d have to say… well, it’d round up to 100. More than 50 (yeah, okay, even if I don’t count I have to admit that it’s definitely well over 50) but fewer than 100. Read the rest of this entry »

Thanks to the unseasonably warm weather we’ve had in New York lately — this weekend it hit 63 degrees, a temperature usually not seen until mid-April — I’ve got a serious case of spring fever. I know it’s just a tease, and a blizzard is probably just around the corner (not to mention a transit strike, which would be a real buzz kill for my footwear plans). But I still got a pedicure, just in case.

Regardless of whether or not global warming is happening a lot more rapidly than anyone ever thought, the fact is I’m already bored of my fall/winter shoes and clothes. Yet there’s not much I can do about it. I’m tired of seeing the picked-over sale racks overshadowing the spring merch at Saks and Bergdorf’s. And there’s just a smattering of pre-collection stuff on the websites. Read the rest of this entry »

How often do you go shopping? Are you an impulse buyer? Do you shop alone?

There are certain questions that are just off-limits; for instance, a wise man once told me, you never ask a woman her age or her original hair color. (Okay, it was a wise woman.) Now I’d add to that list this one: Never ask a woman about her shopping habits.

Though in these days of the Clintonian sentence parsing, ecommerce 24/7 and easy returns, it’s quite easy to get out of those sorts of questions. “Oh, I don’t go shopping everyday” sounds reasonable but really just means “I don’t leave my house and physically go shopping somewhere every single day, but I do obsess over ebay five hours a day.” See where I’m going with that? Read the rest of this entry »

Oh the horror, the horror! I finally got around to reading the Thursday Styles section of the Times, and buried amidst the coverage of the couture and stories about manbags and silicone injections was a mere sliver of a column about Saturday’s fire at the Prada boutique in Soho.

The first two paragraphs talk about the cutting-edge Rem Koolhaas design, the $900,000 elevator, the store’s tourist-destination status. And then we read about the six injured firemen and Bobbi Brown’s spared lipstick. Not to seem insensitive, but talk about burying the lead! The first mention of the damaged spring merchandise came a full 3 1/2 column inches into the story. Read the rest of this entry »