Yes, but think of the bunions...

A very photo-rich post today.  But before I begin, I just loved your six word memoirs. I just knew you'd get it!  And welcome, welcome, to new followers.  It's lovely to have you here!

 So, a few weeks ago, the glitterati descended on New York for this:

Fashion week is HUGE here. I'd never bothered with it before, but somehow, knowing we're leaving soon, I have the urge to do all sorts of things we haven't already done. Needless to say, we didn't have front row tickets to the Armani show or anything, but we are lucky enough to live near Lincoln Centre, we we wandered up to gawk one afternoon.

Oh my! Even Mr. P was fascinated.  (No, this isn't us....)

It really was the most wonderful mix of the bizarre and the beautiful.

But what fascinated me, and kept me there with my mouth open long after it was dignified, were the shoes.

First an admission:  I have foot envy.  All my life, I have wanted to parade around in strappy sandals and high heels.  But I have long since accepted that this is not to be.  I wear Sensible Shoes.  I have been known to put a whole outfit on and then change because I have no shoes I can walk in that even vaguely go with the first thing I try on.  In short, my feet are the bane of my life.

So, you will understand when I tell you that I am bit obsessed with what other people manage to teeter around the place in.

 Even the men's shoes were, well, stare-worthy...

But my absolute favourite was this combination:

A journalist whose job it was to record what the clackers were wearing on their feet.  Could she be any more contemptuous?!

And isn't this fab?

I just love this.  Pretty sure it's Marc Jacobs.  I would love this dress just to hang on my wall like a piece of art.  I would wear it, but as my mother would say, where would you be going in it?

And, as if all that wasn't enough to tantalise me, I walked past Dylan's Candy Store the other day and these were in the window:

All made of sweets.  Bonkers.

So, there you have it.  Shoes and the City.  Enjoy!

C.x

Friday flower power

Hurray! It's Friday! Don't you just love Fridays! Just a quick one today as I rush out the door to work. Saw this on my way home yesterday and thought you might like it.

Isn't it just the business?

More tomorrow. Have a lovely weekend everyone. C.x

Tree cosy

No, really.  Look!

Completely barking.

And somehow completely intriguing.

So, what are you up to for the weekend?  We have my sister-in-law arriving tomorrow for a few days, so will be doing lots of eating and drinking and laughing.   Can't wait.

Whatever you're doing, have a lovely weekend.

C.x

A little piece of Jersey in the City

The builders tell me that work is going well on the house by the sea - no buried treasure found, and that's a good thing...  It's raining today but all last week we had sunny days here (hurricanes and earthquakes aside), and November and our voyage home still seem like a long way off.

But we have an influx of visitors in September, so I know that suddenly we'll be waving goodbye to our old neighbourhood.  And one of the institutions that we pass all the time on the bus is this old store.

In many ways, it's nothing special.  And it's not as though there won't be pork in Suffolk.  But I'm pretty sure nowhere will have this on the wall outside.

Hilarious!  Every time I pass it I expect to see a Soprano lurking outside.  Or a rug-shaped object being hussled into the back.

I mean, seriously - doesn't it make you  want to start singing to yourself that you woke up this morning and got yourself a gun?

Now, I know I've spent way too much time in my life watching Sex and the City and Sopranos (what else is there to do for two years in the desert?)  But please, tell me it's not just me.


C.x

Quilting for a cause

Hello everybody.

A lovely long and lazy weekend here - 4th July which means a day off.  Hurray!  We were also given early release from work on Friday.  (Lots of prison-like associations with that phrasing, I know.)  Anyway, I walked home, which gave me a chance to take in the windows of Saks and Anthropologie at a dawdling pace instead of whizzing past them on the bus.  In the bizarre world of fashion, it is winter, which means that the mannequins in Saks are all bundled up in woollen coats and cashmere jumpers.  Lovely, but a bit mad in 80 degree heat.  Apparently, there are women in the world who shop like this.  Personally, I need to feel the early morning chill of Autumn before i can think of the need for fingerless long wool gloves.  (The Saks mannequins tell me they will be big next season - you heard it here first.)

Saks had also devoted a whole line of windows to The Names Project.

I had a vague impression of this that I'd picked up from somewhere, but it's a powerful thing to see these displayed in a line together.  There's so much love and emotion packed into each one.

And they so vividly bring to life the people they commemorate.

So much life and loss and heartache behind each panel.

(I have sat for awhile wondering whether it's too insensitive a transition to go on from here to chatter on about Anthropologie.  But the truth is that it made me so happy to study their window too.  So much creativity and humour was just the kind of life affirming injection I needed.  Apologies to anyone who finds the remainder of the post in bad taste...)

So, to Anthropologie.  I find their window displays endlessly fascinating.

Who would think to clutter up a window with bubbles?  And yet it works.  And I just love the use of these old slides as the backdrop to a single outfit in the corner of this window.   How fab is that?!

Each slide offering its own tiny slice of life....

There's so much care and attention to detail that goes into these window displays.  But it's not often that I get to see it happen as I did on Friday.

Simple yet effective.

More creative food inside.  There isn't a single plate here that I'm not coveting...

And owls are definitely the bird of the moment.  They were everywhere.

I managed not to buy anything.  But lots of food for mind and soul.  All on the way home from work.

C.x