Oktoberfest
Sun 10/7. 11am-6pm. Lexington Ave, 42nd-57th Sts.
Grab the nearest fraulein and ring in the fall season with a hefty stein of bier. Not German? Doesn’t matter! Don’t like beer? That’s not American, and you know it! Now, dust off those leiderhosen and start dancing--
Zum wohl!
Earthly DEALights
Tuesday, September 25, 2007
Fancy Feats
Art imitates life. In some case, art imitates superfluous fairytale princesses on a bad hair day, and Japanese authors doubling as insurance salesmen. This past weekend I gave myself a healthy dose of theatre, with fancy footwork and societal commentary to boot. The first production, Unlock’d, a dynamic, side-splitting musical created and written by a friend for the annual NYMF festival, explores the love-addled world of lords and ladies, complete with lacy frills and puckered frounces to match. Perhaps the days of musical partnership aren’t far behind us, as we’d drearily deemed with the passing of Fred Ebb. Sam Carner and Derek Gregor’s operatic creation provides ample Shakespearean lyrics rivaling the master himself, and not a century too late. The finely-tuned characters chorale finely-minced couplettes, beating in biting satire (love the phrase!) for the two and a half hours of captivation. Fortunately, everyone’s got a sense of humor that resonates just in time at moments
Tuesday, September 18, 2007
The Seasonal Itch
I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop. Metaphorically-speaking, of course-- I’d be slightly more upset if I knew I were five seconds away from losing a heel on my ruby patent-leathers. With the winds of Autumn blowing in full-force this week, I’ve found myself skipping along with them, repeating my recent mantra to the tune of the scuttling leaves across the fire escape: What are you doing with your life? Where are you going next? When will you make up your mind and quit asking the same things over and over?
It seems I revisit this intercontinental shift around the same time every year. Last fall, I immersed myself in Alaskan wildlife. The year before, I balanced my Autumnal equinox under the gilded oak trees of the Midwest. The year before-- well, you get my drift. I suppose it’s nostalgic for me-- September and school go hand in hand, and what better reason for misty-eyed recollections than flashbacking to those formative years? The feeling of starting fresh, a “
Friday, September 7, 2007
Fashion Week Fix
Ahh, Autumn. Hardly a week into September and already the craving for breezy, loungy spring flings are creeping through the closet. Wait, where fell Fall? What about warm, wooly layers with contrast stockings? Not in this heat, sister. Fall Fashion Week (paradoxically named for designers’ Spring collections), commenced in the Big Apple this week, promising to keep sartorial wannabes red-eyed and caffeine-packed for the next nine days. As for me, I was graciously invited to the Cynthia Rowley show at Gotham Hall on Friday afternoon by a friend of mine. Brow-kissing buzz aside, the collection was the most attractive it’s been in recent years, taking the form of a sun-kissed movie starlet. A bit resorty at times, Rowley played into the vintage trend au jour of old/new Hollywood Seaside, taking cues from Louis Vuitton and Marc Jacobs: deep v-neck prep sweaters, voluminous silk tunics, and high-waist pleats, paired over calico silk prints in the tunes of tan, white, navy, red, and
Wednesday, September 5, 2007
Like a Virgo
September seems quite the popular month for birthdays. Makes you wonder what kind of holiday parties were being thrown nine months previously, unless it was good ole cozying-by-the-fire kind of romance typical of pioneer sagas. Alas, poor Aries, ‘tis the time for Virgos and their unending discipline and order. Last night I co-hosted an intimate birthday dinner with my firstmate cohort, Rachel L, in honor of our mutual friend, Rachel K (I seem to have an affinity to this name), an already-accomplished and attractively-hot theater director recently returned from an international seminar in Italy. All this and she just turned 24.
Birthdays are funny- people either seem to love ‘em or hate ‘em. Guys, especially, love to loathe this holiday-- perhaps they were bullied by balloon animals when they were kids, or were made to dress up in girls’ clothes by their frou-frou mothers-- either way, it’s the ladies who really get off on the whole “celebrate me for a day/week/month” thing.
Monday, August 13, 2007
Just the Sip
My, I was a spoiled ham this weekend. Loads of swelling meals and my credit card still safely below the red line (and by red line, I mean the “Good god, who do I think I am? An iBanker?” moment that every liberal-arts-major Gen-Yer finds themselves crossing a few times a month). Tim had been blowing a gasket over the free tapas at Sip for the past two months, and the recent TimeOut NY rave only solidified the deal for a visit. Free? Food? Everyday? Yes, Virginia—there is such thing as a free lunch. I opted for the namesake Sipwich, an herb-happy twist on the McHangover favorite, and an egg-cellent way to ring in late-afternoon hunger pangs—all for $4. Here’s my homemade version of it, complete with scarborough-fairish flavors and fatty fats-- albeit it lacks the huge iced coffee that accompanied it, for free (there’s that word again!)...
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