Da Fashionista.com

The Scene
Work drama abounds. My suddenly teenage-like skin is proof positive. Ugh. Change is a'comin.

Thanking the tiny infant baby Jesus that I'm taking the next two days off to luxuriate with my Peaches. His timing as always is impeccable.

Here's today's bootcamp recap

Number of times I experience chest pain and
fear full blown cardiac arrest: 4
Number of times I wonder if the course is designed
to get harder each week: 5
Number of times the instructor magnanimously lets us break for water: 3
Number of times I think I am going to lose control of my bladder: 3
Number of times he walks by and I swear he wants to say "maggot": 4
Number of times the bizarre furry tufts on the legs of the guy
next to me make me dry heave: 2

Best part of the class was ending on Madonna's "Die Another Day." Good call on the instructor's part. He knows how to keep the hot chicks and gay men going til the bitter end.

Tonight Mr. Diabolina asked me what my weight is. Ugh. The scale was not budging as of last week. He said I should weigh myself. He thinks I will be pleasantly surprised. Emboldened by his sweet vote of confidence, I went into our closet and fished out three pairs of pants.

Now each pair (Marc, Chloe and Stella) was bought resale and pretty tight to begin with but by the end of last year, I was not able to even zip them up. Today they glided on and zipped no problemo. EUREKA!

Still quite a ways to go though. Not gonna get cocky. Because when you do, that's when the fat gods slap you down.

The Outfit
Forever 21 color block jersey tunic
Black leggings
Vintage Parisian eggshell trench coat

The Accessories
Marc Jacobs putty hobo
Putty slouchy boots
Black pashmina
Gucci black horse-bit sunglasses
Faux Chanel black dangly earrings
Forever 21 "snakeskin" bangle

The Grade
B+


The Commentary
Heart the color blocking of this top. Bought it because it reminded me so much of Proenza Schouler. With this jersey tunic from Forever, I get the cool color combo and the signature flattering optical illusion of their designs plus the comfort and coverage that their bustiers do not afford. Wasn't a big fan of their Target line so me thinks this top is the next best thing.

Oh and when I got home today i realized that the top matches my new Old Navy flats perfectly. YAY :)


Two stories about this bag (which, btw, is a deep blue inside, matching today's top to a T!)

1) During Fashion Week two years ago in New York, Brian Grazer introduced himself to Jean Bean and me after the DVF show. We talked to him for about 20 minutes while he stared at our chests. Very funny.

Then two days later JB and I were celebrating Peaches' birthday at the Mandarin Oriental when Brian Grazer of all people gets seated right next to us. We took it as a cosmic sign and chatted him up again. He tells us about the Marc Jacobs show he just attended and how artistic it was.

Being THE Marc Jacobs fan I act non-plussed that he scored a ticket to the biggest show of the week and casually say "Yes, I love my Marc bag" cuddling my putty-colored hobo. He looks at it dismissively and calls it "Sensible." Ugh. Of course it's sensible, especially for travel. But it's also gorgeous. F to Mr. Spiky Hair. He should stick to looking at boobs.

2) Mr. Diabolina has worked for a big international law firm for nearly 7 years. He is one of the few lawyers that actually likes what he does and everyone at The Firm loves him. Adore!

Every June, The Firm does a summer associate trip to Vegas. I remember my first trip, feeling pretty out of place amongst the wives and girlfriends of the lawyers who were dripping diamonds and designer labels.

I had just finished grad school and didn't have a job yet. Or very many designer accouterments. I was still fabulosity but apparently not fab enough. Shopping and spa trips were planned without me. Interestingly, that helped me bond more with the lawyers who, Mr. Diabolina swears, like me more than they like him.

Fast-forward a couple of years and those same women who weren't interested were crawling all over me at the 2006 summer trip. Or should I say crawling all over my Louis Vuitton and Marc Jacobs.

Not cool in my book. I was still the same funny, smart, cool chick when I wasn't blinged out. F. Diabolina don't play that. Made myself unavailable for most of the shopping and spa excursions I was invited to that weekend. Instead I made the effort to play with the new female lawyers and their boys.

Check this tho: during one shopping trip to the Forum stores, a partner's wife decided to buy today's Marc Jacobs hobo. A newbie summer associate, flush with her hefty summer stipend and looking to keep up, decided to buy the bag too.

Kinda a faux paus that everyone was talking about for weeks later. Damned if you do, damned if you don't, I guess. Pecking order is a fascinating thing, especially when it plays out with a Marc Jacobs bag, no?