For all of the nay-sayers that have wagged their heads surreptitiously because I dared believe in the power of Spring, I insist that it is indeed on its way. And finally, I have proof. After months of watching the buds on our camellia tree swell from peas to olives to Brussels sprouts, they have simultaneously exploded in a riot of hot pink. Which I find a rather funny joke on the part of Mother Nature after all of our efforts to plant an all-white, uber-elegant garden. Little did we know. Out of nowhere pops in a wacky aunt from Tuscon with a "Yee-haw!"
But apparently it is the color of the day, as touted by no less than the ever inspiring Scott Schuman, who is showing just such a color on his "blog that broke the sound barrier", the Sartorialist. It might very well be a fitting reaction to what has otherwise been a disappointingly disparate NYC Fashion Week. My goodness, all of the nods to the 90s just seem so out of the blue--and I am not talking about the one hanging over the garden...
When current fashion darling Jason Wu referred to how the women in that time dressed "as a means of expressing themselves" my immediate reaction was, "Well don't they always?" True, I might be missing something here, having grown into my heels during that very age in that very town where it was an adventure to run to the corner deli or Duane Reade. But it was, of course, a self-imposed challenge, as I was always only dressing for myself. Who are women dressing for today? And why on earth are they paying so much for style that isn't their own? Yes, I realize that I am sounding more Frenchy than American in saying so, but trust me, these are my guns and I am sticking to them.
One last little bit of query before I hoist up my Côte du Rhône (times is tough, kids), who on earth OKed the "$100 for a weekend in Paris" article in the NY Times? Now I worship at the Times altar but this one left me stupefied as the author skims the surface of Paris in a way that makes you wonder "Why go?". I certain can only imagine the folks across the US trying to see his reasoning in hanging out at beer halls in the City of Light. If you want to know the feeling of Paris, let me know. I'll take you there. And it just might leaving you tickled...well, you know.