There Are Times When NYC Is NOT The Place To Be!

DAHLINGS -

And today is one of them! I sit here in my air conditioned Art Deco office, dictating my blog thing to Leo, who has been having MOST insolently of late--

GET THAT EXPRESSION OFF OF YOUR FACE, OR I'LL TURN OFF THE AC IN YOUR ROOM AGAIN!

As I was saying. My beautiful (featured in Architectural Digest) oceanfront mansion in the Hamptons is being RENOVATED. To be precise, it WAS being renovated. IT IS STILL BEING RENOVATED! The contractor is three months behind schedule! All of those bribes for nothing. I'd ask for my money back if I hadn't given to him illegally. Certaines personnes ne vivent pas à leur part d'un marché.

The consequences of this are that, aside from the occasional jaunt out of town or out of the country, your faithful correspondent is trapped--TRAPPED, I tell you!--for the summer in New York.

There's a reason the ballad is not called "August in New York." Damn.

Ciao,
Elisa

Summer In The City, God Help Us...

DAHLINGS -

As the old cliche goes, "the heat is on." Sweltering temperatures, humidity, extremely interesting smells; all that makes one flee to New York for the Hamptons, which I shall be doing soon. To my fabulous (featured in Architectural Digest) beachfront home. But for the nonce I am here.

Unfortunately, so are other New Yorkers. The heat must be affecting their minds, because I am seeing body parts--or more to the point, bodies--that were never meant to be gazed upon outside of their abodes. Particularly the homme variety.

Dear readers, you know me as a woman of broad mind and loose morals, but mon dieu! Why in God's name is there a direct equation between the fitness of a man's torso and the amount of clothing he wears in the heat?

1.) Extremely fit - baggy shorts and sleeveless t-shirt
2.) Fairly fit - baggy shorts and tight-shirt
3.) Flabby - tight shorts and "wife-beater" t-shirt (pardon the phrase, I did not coin it!)
4.) Obese - nearly non-existent shorts and no shirt whatsoever

Spend some time walking down the Upper West Side of New York, or in any park, and you will see what I mean. The more flesh, the less clothing. You also know me as a champion of the plus-sized. But, mes amies, if one desired to gaze upon hairy bellies and flopping hairy breasts, one would go to the gorilla exhibition at the Bronx Zoo.

At least the gorillas are not allowed to smoke cigars.

Speaking of clothing (quite a segue, don't you think?), here is some vintage menswear available at my Ebay store, Elisa's Bodacious House of Style. And some other mens' items soon to be listed.

Vintage 80s mens' chambray sport coat:


Vintage mens' houndstooth Lord & Taylor sport coat:


Liberty of London ties, one silk, the other cotton:



Coach belt with pouch:


Must run - my assistant has gotten her babydoll dress caught in the shredder again. Idiot!

Ciao,
Elisa and Bucky the Wonderdog

IT'S OFFICIAL: 'FAT IS THE NEW BLACK!'

DAHLINGS -

That wonderful Isaac Mizrahi just pronounced that "Fat Is The New Black." On national radio, no less!

I have been promoting this idea fashion-wise ever since I was a buxom young lass. At last, society has caught up with moi.

Fashion Week has been quite, quite the experience, as I might have written before. One designer's show could have been titled "Attack of the Skinny Teen-Agers," as a parade of bulemic heroin addicts in 5 inch heels stumbled down the runway in evening gowns meant for women twice their age and size, with that glazed look one associates with continual hunger and drug abuse. There were a number of paramedics outside the white tents at New York's Bryant Park (yes, I know it's near the Fashion District, but it's so...midtown). They dashed into the backstage areas periodically, signalled by frantic designers, to administer emergency doses of protein powder and methadone.

All for now. I shall celebrate Mr. Mizhari's pronouncement with a banana split (Kahlua makes an excellent substitute for hot fudge, dahlings). It almost makes me forgive him for Target.

Ciao,
Elisa and Bucky the Wonderdog