WHAT'S REALLY GOING ON HERE? The Naked Piano Player in Venfield's Sputnik Chandelier Ad

At a quick glance, I saw the fabulous Sputnik chandelier in a posh room. But then, my eye wandered over the page, and located the naked piano player. "Oh my!" I thought -- not out of prudishness, but more out of the ad's audacious blend of home decor and sexuality.

This ad inspired me to start a regular Miss Blogworthy feature which I shall call:
"WHAT'S REALLY GOING ON HERE?"
In this feature, I'll state my side of the story and I encourage any readers to share theirs. I think this could be fun. So... here goes it.

SPUTNIK SERENADE

This beautiful apartment belongs to Sergio and Paola. Sergio, in white shirt, is pouring his lovely wife her first glass of Dom Perignon. Their two children (pictured on the piano) are off spending the summer in Lugano with their grandparents, and Paolo and Sergio are toasting to a season of delicious debauchery.

They have invited a few friends over to play "Strip Name That Tune." The naked piano player, an outgoing Prada salesman by day, has already demonstrated the outcome of guessing incorrectly.

Judith,(far left), Paola's aesthetician, is game but somewhat shy. "Is it possible to dim the lights on the chandelier?" she asks with a slightly nervous laugh.

"With this chandelier, everything is possible!" replies Paola with a smile.

NOMANCE: relationSHIPS THAT PASS IN THE NIGHT

I do not pretend to be a couples therapist or anything approximate, but from time to time I think I can look at the topic of relationships with a discerning a (if it's not mine) or at least amusing eye. I may gain some clarity on this subject at a long stop light, spying on other people, or over a few glasses of wine. My astuteness comes to me unexpectedly.

Like this evening.

There I was listening to Bob Seger's "We've Got Tonight." A classic bittersweet love song. A song that takes me back to my teens and to my best friend who shared this song with the boy who took her virginity. There I was alone in my car, duet-ing it with Bob. I can't sing for shit, and am notorious for not singing publicly. That is a good thing for the world.

And I thought, "I love this song!" I love Bob Seger's strained, gruff voice. I love the feeling of desire and the acceptance for what it is -- tonight, no promises, just be present, that I want you tonight kind of thing.

Then I thought about a friend of mine, an intimate friend with whom the seas have been rough lately...and I thought, "He would hate the basic premise of this song."

My thought process continued.

Perhaps, on the first date or so, dating people should come clean and divulge favorite songs, favorite movies and also, since the home environment is important to me, pages torn from home design magazines. I mean if my mate hands me his dream house with shiny black leather reclining sofas and a giant TV in an oak wall unit...I may just have to step away.

And this all leads me to wonder where the line is between media-generated romantic fantasy and real life want. We relate to songs not only for the rhythm and voice, but because the words stir deeper emotions attached to a fantasy, a precept, a need, an attitude. Does what turns us on in the world of entertainment set an expectation for our real life relationships?

I'm just in that wondering kind of mood.

BARBIE REFLECTS (not) ON SUNSCREEN

Last Tuesday was the first stiflingly hot day of our Florida summer and all of the news channels, quite befittingly, were reporting on sunscreen. On that day, I ventured down to Miami's 125th antique strip, and in a sunny twist of fate, shop owner/designer Marc Corbin gifted me with David Parise's fab photo of Barbie and her playmates tanning rather irresponsibly on South Beach.

To celebrate Marc's lovely gesture and my new awesome photo, I shall share some random sunscreen info, garnered from NPR, that I scribbled down at red lights on my drive home from Miami.

1. There is no such thing as waterproof sunscreen. Instead, look for "water-resistant" sunscreen.

2. Sunscreen needs to be applied liberally and reapplied every two hours.

3. the vote's not in on the effectiveness of spray-on sunscreens vs. lotions - and there are unknowns as well about the potential hazard of inhalation from sprays

4. people of color are more naturally protected from harmful rays but they should still wear sunscreen.

5. 50 SPF is the max anyone needs.

And one last shot from Marc's store.

MARC CORBIN INC.
875 NE 125TH STR.
N. MIAMI, FL 33161
(305) 899-2509
marcorbin@earthlink.net

Wishing Safety from Whirling Dervishes and other Natural Disasters

My friend just texted me and told me she's hiding out in her basement. She lives in Kansas City and a tornado threatens yet again. I am worried for her, yet thankful for cellars right now.

I have friends all over the country -- many in tornado alley. In particular, I am thinking of some dear ones in Missouri, New Orleans, Oklahoma, Alabama and Tennessee. I listen to the news and I see their faces. The violent weather that is either destroying or threatening their daily lives is beyond crazy. I wish I had a special power to stop it.

I wonder where the safest place on earth is. Or rather, is there such a place? I'm talking natural disaster rather than crime. A few years back a Forbes article ranked Hawaii among the safest places to live, with Santa Fe and Boise, Idaho close behind.

When I moved to Florida in 2002, I didn't think about weather systems. Hurricanes were not on my mental radar. In September 2004, however, after surviving Frances, but thinking we might not, I was obsessed with them.

With one week till the official launch of hurricane season, I am not raiding the shelves for water and canned goods quite yet. My preparedness style is to pick up a few things here and there. I don't want to get stuck in a panic like I did in 2004. I promise to keep 4 spare gallons of water, a dozen "c" batteries, and to keep my gas tank at least half full.

From my house to yours, wishing you safely through....................

To Sag or Not to Sag

I have always had a small butt. Even when I belt my pants, there is a good chance that throughout the day, they will slip down a little bit here and a little bit there. When I was in middle school, my friend Ike would grab my belt loops and pull up my jeans.

At 47, this problem still exists. I, along with my two daughters, patrol my waistline. I do not flash my underwear purposely, but I know that many people do.

As an underwear admirer and liberal thinker, I am not anti-sag, but I do think saggy pants are inappropriate in certain settings such as school. Seeing a guy with serious sag out on the street actually makes me laugh. As one who likes color and pattern, I also find that colorful drawers can add interest to a pair of jeans. As long as I don't see what's under the briefs, I'm good.

I was reading "Pants No Longer on the Ground." In a nutshell, this article addresses a new school dress code that prohibits indecent or vulgar exposure of body parts and underwear.

I smiled at Domingo's comment, because beyond his typos and lack of apostrophes I could sense his passion:

ITS ABOUT TIME THAT SOMEONE TOOK A STAND ABOUT THE PROBLEM OF PEOPLE WEARING THERE PANTS AND SHOWING THERE UNDERWARES IN PUBLIC AND IN ANY WHERE I THINK IT COMES DOWN TO THE PARENTS DOING SOMETHING ABOUT IT IT SHOULD START AT HOME ITS NOT THE GOVERMENTS JOB TO LOOK OUT FOR WHAT THE KIDS ARE DOING AND THE WAY THEY DRESS I THINK ITS SICK THE WAY THAT TOMORROWS KIDS ARE WALKING DOWN THE STREETS AND WHAT THEY ARE WEARING I HAVE TWO BOYS AND YOU WILL NEVER SEE THEN WEARING THERE PANTS DOWN AND SHOWING THERE UNDER WARES AT ANY TIME THATS ALL I HAVE TO SAY ABOUT THAT.

My only question, "Who are tomorrow's kids?"

In Memory: Sharron Lewis

I emailed my friend, Sharron Lewis, after the New Zealand earthquake. She was born there and I wanted to find out if her family was OK. She didn't respond.

Several weeks later, when I wanted to interview her for a story, I emailed her again. Once again, Sharron didn't respond. Yesterday I called her shop down in the Design District. "IS Sharron around?" I asked. There was an uncomfortable pause on the other end of the line. Sharron, an associate sadly revealed, had died on the 17th.

I first met Sharron Lewis when she managed Wolfman Gold in NYC. She was tall, thin, wore simple chic clothes, and had a bright blond rocker hair. She was nice, but quite reserved, and her cool and stylish confidence intimidated me.

Several years later we connected while hanging out at a furniture market soiree. I noticed her strength and I also detected her vulnerability. Our friendship took root.

Sharron eventually made her way down to Miami. I had the good fortune of shooting her first Miami Beach condo for Country Living. With its billowing sheers and pale wood floors painted the subtlest blue imaginable, it was so light and air and I fantasized about living there. I can still see Sharron, in a blue and white sarong and soft linen shirt, plating stone crab claws on a huge ironstone serving dish. It was fun. We bonded.

Sharron's design career was on a permanent incline. She evolved from a designer to a brand. White was a constant theme. Chippy flea market cupboards were replaced by lacquered chests. Quirky vintage beds turned into unpredictably scaled sexy upholstered headboards. Her signature look evolved. The Sagamore Hotel is one big testament to her talent.

Though her style seemed effortless, Sharron worked hard. I was so happy for her when she met the love of her life, Jihad. Together they created much beauty and comfort in the world.

Sharron and I were not close in the sense of frequent phone calls, but we liked and admired one another deeply, and twice a year when we did get together we always parted saying, "We have to do this more often." And now it's just too late.

SETTING RECORDS AND TABLES

My parents celebrated their 50th wedding anniversary last month. As the almost-always-good non-confrontational child, I never thought their marriage would last beyond my sister's rebellious boundary testing years. But it miraculously did and we marked the occasion with a festive photo-taking Facebook uploading family gathering.

I may not have been hugely successful in marriage, but I commend those who stick it out, enjoy it, and even figure out how to make it stronger. I also commend people, like Christopher Jagmin (above, pictured kind of), who figure out how to keep the bridal market fresh.

Check out Christopher's very cool customizable plates that will not only be the delight of your dinner party, but can be the solution to one's wedding party favors. Use at the rehearsal dinner, have caterer wash and put in gift bags, and then give them out as souvenirs or gifts. Though much of his line is spanking new, Christopher collects one-of-a-kind plates from the flea market and gives these "unloved" plates a second life.

Christopher's graphic work goes beyond bridal. It can commemorate a birth or bar mitzvah, or even...get this... your everyday life and desire for well-designed goods!

I met Christopher for the first time this January at the Atlanta Gift Show. He is clever, talented and quite tall. His blog is also amusing.