International Man of Mystery

A friend and I were discussing the importance of mystery in dating. When I reflect on my dating history, the men I have really slayed were always the ones I couldn't have cared less about. I didn't check my cell phone endlessly praying for a text, a little crumb of affection to peck and restore my self worth. I didn't care what they were doing or where they were going; consequently, they beat down my door. So the problem is of course, when you actually like a man and are attracted to him, how do you affect this sort of distance? A couple weeks ago I went out with a man I have been casually dating, and he said I was "glowing" because of my affection for him. This same man previously made comments that he was absolutely certain before we began dating that he "had" me; he could tell that I was attracted to him. This clearly rankled me, but the irony is that I felt the same way about him! I was certain he would be an effortless conquest, a ready made, endlessly devoted boyfriend. I couldn't have been more wrong! He has confounded me at every turn!
I ask myself how differently this might have progressed had I seemed unavailable and uninterested, but the truth is that at the end of the day, I AM hard to get! Just ask those withered corpses in my closet! Its much more fun to be the object of desire on the pedestal; I find the view from below to be far less appealing.

Bed bugs

He has officially moved on. Well, not exactly officially, and I'm not sure one could really call it "moving on", but my beloved ex-boyfriend who I dumped, then mourned, is sleeping with a woman who is not me. I have business to do with both of these people, my ex-boyfriend and the new woman, and see them both on a regular basis. She is the type of woman who befriends and seduces everyone: men, women, goats, whomever. She is not particularly discriminate. Over the last several months we became closer acquaintances, and I made the grievous error of sharing too much personal information with her. She is the type of woman who will empathize with a man out of the kindness of her heart, then hops into his bed. Now I am fairly certain that she has hopped into my former beloved's bed; my woman's intuition screams it loud.
I suppose I knew this was inevitable, that eventually he would move on (in my own snail-paced way, I have), but witnessing it is one of the unusually cruel experiences of life. Hypocritically, I want to rip her head off, then tear off all of his limbs for good measure. The irony of this is that I have been dating...real old-fashioned dating, and not just screwing around for lonely, alcohol-induced sport. I know I am being unreasonable, but the night all these revelations really came to a head for me, I laid in bed and wept. The mental images, thinking of them being intimate, laughing, waking up in the same room made me want to light someone's, ANYONE'S, roof on fire. I sobbed and I heaved until I had nothing left, then nodded off to sleep. I woke up the next day, still disgusted by what I was sure was happening, but peaceful. My burning desire for arson having subsided, I felt foolish and tired of missing someone I rejected.

Sailing to Byzantium

Chanel recently showed pre-fall Métiers d’Arts collection, with the theme "Paris-Byzance". Did you ever see such a fantasy of messy bouffants, flat jeweled sandals, and easy shapes? The models look like child empresses who escaped from either harems or ivory towers. Love the slouchy trousers and long dresses with sandals; that louche sensibility epitomizes today's luxury. I went to Istanbul a few years ago with a boyfriend, and in my rose-tinted memories, this was how I looked at dinner every night; in reality, it was 115 degrees outside and I dripped make up while picking fishbones out of my teeth beside the Bosphorus. This collection does what I so desperately want fashion to do: make me dream!

This thing of ours

I have never really written directly about the fashion industry before, as an "insider" so to speak, even though I have worked in the thick of it for almost 3 years. I prefer to write rhapsodically and in a circumspect manner; I seem to prefer the outside vantage point even though I fought to get in and work in the trenches. Its a bizarre business, where sex appeal, good taste and "style" are quantifiable. I work in women's contemporary designer wholesale (and salespeople like myself are truly on the outer edges of this industry), mostly with specialty stores. This is not a time in the world I would choose to own a store, as they will never really compete fairly with the behemoth department stores. This particular level of fashion, fairly expensive but not wildly artistic in the manner of the Lanvins and Rodartes, is often a rich girl's idle hobby. And yet, it is interesting to see how commerce and art mix, to varying degrees of success and happiness, to build companies, brands, and legacies. I think in particular of one designer who has such a distinctive perspective and is absolutely sure of her style and vision, and has managed to brand herself extraordinarily well, through artful celebrity placement and the sleekest website and branding. She aggressively looks ahead, works obsessively, and sucks everyone into her little creative vortex; she is so damned intriguing that you have to drink the Kool-Aid.