"Me...Jane"

Photo courtesy of One Potato

While the entire world is talking bout "50 Shades of Grey," I'm going to tame things down a bit with "Me...Jane," a children's book about Jane Goodall, written and illustrated by Patrick McDonnell, and published by Little Brown and Company. It was a gift from a dear friend who knew the title would  make me smile simply because she knows I love seeing my name -- even if it's not really exactly my whole name -- in print.

Here are 3 other reasons why I really like "Me...Jane."

Photo from TED.com

1.Because it's about Jane Goodall whose passion, devotion, work, and beauty I admire so much.

2. Because it's got cool graphics that feel gouache-y, faded, and grayed. Even the typeface is partially worn away and has that time ago look. The end paper features a hand-drawn diamond pattern that would make a great fabric.

3. Because it feels personal. "Me...Jane" was the name of my first business in NYC. I wasn't particularly into Tarzan or anything, but for a while there, in my 20's, guys that I'd meet at bars or parties or wherever all seemed to be named Tarzan. My biz card, decorated with leopard print, payed homage to that overplayed predictable coincidence.

Thank you for my prezzie, Leslie.

XOXO, Me...Jane

THE WAY THINGS USED TO BE GAY

Once upon a time, in the persuasive world of advertising, the word "gay" was used freely. It meant happy, spirited, light-hearted, and fun. Now, not so much. 

Hmmm... "gay night spots in Arizona."

California champagne will make your party gayer. That is good to know.

Love this guy. He looks happy and gay, but hasn't been labelled such.

"Galey" = gaily? this ad isn't outright gay, but I think there is some insinuation.

 HAPPY LGBT PRIDE, MIAMI BEACH!

ANTHROPOLOGIE DOES DESERT & I LIKE IT

While the turquoise, rust, and sand-colored clothing isn't turning me on, there's some furniture, similarly colored, all from Anthropolgie that I can certainly see living with ceiling to floor.

 

SOUTHWEST MALL STYLE: What I'm Not Buying

Laurie Lenfestey = Southwest style

I am a method writer of sorts. I get absorbed into a topic by dressing in it. When I was researching the color pink,  I wore only pink underwear. When I wrote about green, I bought a vintage green Peugeot watch for good luck. When I wrote about colors of the Southwest however, I didn't really have anything to put on for inspiration.

I am definitely attracted to certain elements of Southwest style. I love my friend Laurie's layers. I love the way Mary Emmerling piles on the silver jewelry. And I can definitely fantasize about modeling in a Ralph Lauren ad. In reality though, I can see decorating with Southwest style, more than wearing it.

When I went to the mall, everything seemed to be inspired by the Southwest. I saw nothing that I really wanted (otherwise this post would have gone on my other blog -- wantneedxoxo), except for a few images to capture just a smidge of the trend.

Southwest mall style, that I'm not buying, from head to toe:

hats at Charlotte Russe

feather-decorated blouse at Love Culture

cuffs at Charming Charlie

bags at Charlotte Russe

wallet at Dillards

shorts at Forever 21

shoes at Dillards

Sleep cheaply in Southwest style. This comforter was prominently displayed at World of Thrift. I'm not buying it either.

Do you like Southwest style?  Do you prefer to wear it, decorate with it, do both or neither?

Handy Hot Glue: A Shoe-In for a Quick DIY Fix

A festive Easter party calls for fun and colorful shoes, but when I put on these orange, teal, and purple metallic heels they felt weird and made an annoying slapping sound. Oh no! This will not do!

Slap, slap, slap. I took them off and realized the insole was totally separating from the base.

With a few minutes to go before I had to leave the house, I grabbed the glue gun and a skinny hole punch from the craft armoire. I used the hot glue gun to secure the insole and used the tiny hole punch to put another hole in the strap. I felt so resourceful.

Whether you're a crafter or not, these two tools are great to have around the house. They come in quite handy -- or in this case "foot-y."

April 7: Bad Hair Day

Yesterday Sam got her hair cut. It seemed to be going well, until the stylist started tweaking her blown dry hair with a curling iron. I signaled to Sam with a big genuine smile and a thumbs up; she, however, wasn't buying it. Once in the car,  she complained that it looked too puffy. Soon quiet tears rolled down her face. The image of who she thought she was and what that looked like shattered under new hair cut scrutiny.

She's fine today. And so is her hair.

April 6: Seder in Paris

at Pere LaChaise 1996

Sixteen years ago, while 6 1/2 months pregnant with Dylan, my husband and I went to Paris forPassover/Easter time. He had arranged for us to share the first seder with a religious family in the Chabad community. It was quite different than the reform Judaism seders I participated in growing up. I found the ritual drying of the lettuce leaves fascinating. Each leaf was completely dried so that a droplet of water would not dare to mingle with the matzoh. I don't remember that much more. We got out of there about 2 a.m. I was probably jet lagging.