Spendthrift and Foolhardy

Hey fashionistas!  I apologize beforehand to my male readers, this post is decidedly for the gentler of genders!  Today I had a riveting work-related budget meeting in Manhattan.  Nothing like crunching numbers with your co-workers as you trudge through concepts such as accural accounting and ratio analysis.  Fun fun!  What's best is that I am sitting there freaking out about all of my work expenses and trying to skim down costs wherever possible while I am sidetracked thinking about spending all of my hard earned mula at the Betsey Johnson Sample Sale in Times Square.  I justify my splurge by considering myself most patriotic for doing my part to stimulate the economy.  When quitting time arrivals I say my goodbyes and rip my politically correct facade off as I rush like a bat outta hell to get to the BJ sale. 

Before I divulge all the splendors of my raid, let me tell you a tiny bit about one of my favorite designers.  Betsey does cartwheels at her runway shows, never wears boring colors, always dresses whimsically, uses retro throwback designs in all of her contemporary lines, is a breast cancer survivor, and oh, is over 60 years old.  Her line has been around since the 80s but really only took off in the last decade or so.  I adore everything about this woman's creative mind.  With her funky white-blonde hair and her cooky clothes, you can't help but like this eccentric designer. 

One downer, BJ paraphernalia is expensive.  So, I hover over BJ email updates with vulture-like anticipation to see when and where the next sample sale will be.  The sale was from September 28th through Saturday, October 1st.  If you would like to know where, message me for the deets! ;)

When I arrive to the sample showroom throngs of women are perusing the aisles, snatching up dresses and haggling prices.  Drats, its only 3:00pm and the place is mobbed!  My wonderful boyfriend, who is probably reading this post now, was generous enough for me to put a few purchases on the AMEX card.  Score!  Rhinestones, pretty knit patterns, satchel bags, high heels and pumps and buttercup dresses as far as the eye could see.  The plethora of colors and the outrageous designs on every piece of fabric makes me giddy.  I'll take one of everything please!

Prices are slashed by 70%-85%, making everything much more conducive to my price range.  I bought two belts, four leather bags, one thermal shirt, a jacket and two bracelets for a grand total of....drumroll please...$361.00!!  I put $185 on the AMEX for items I bought for myself (thanks Frank!) and the remainder I paid in cash.

Here is an itemized list:

I couldn't decide which of the three red leather bags I liked the most, so in true shopaholic fashion, I bought all three!  This ruffled bag kind of resembles a bowling bag; it has such an adorable look when you clutch it by the handles with both hands.  You can buy it in stores for $228.00.  My price?  $50.00.

 
This next bag is a beautiful over the shoulder red tote with a trendy v-neck top.  No zipper to open the bag which means I can dump in all of my accessories without having to constantly open and close.  Store price: $298.00.  Sale price: $50.00. 

This next bag is a crossbody fit, with red ruffles.  I love the retro look. This bag is perfect for city travels and laid back casual looks.  Store price: $158.00.  Sale price: $40.00.

I could not take the wrappings off this next item because I bought it as a birthday gift for my boyfriend's mother.  This large satchel, black leather bag originally sold for $288.00.  My price?  $50.00.

These next items are bracelets.  Usually Betsey gets a bit gaudy in the costume jewelry department, but every so often you find a few must haves.  The bracelet at the top of the picture has gold tassels that drawstring the bracelet tighter.  Gold beads with pink rhinestones adorn the top.  Sells for $65.00, I got for $26.00.

The bracelet on the bottom of the picture is an adorable charm bracelet, not too chunky, not too delicate.  Sells for $55.00.  My price?  $22.00.

This next item is a long sleeve, purple leopard design.  The material is outrageous, so soft.  Not sure what type of fabric it is but it sold originally for $98.00.  I snagged it for $15.00.  I gave this to my sister, she's a purple leopard kinda gal.

Next up, two ruffle belts, one berry colored and the other solid black, both with rhinestone buckles.  Each one runs for $45.00.  I got them for $5.00 each. 

And finally, the creem de la creem, a dark purple Betsey Johnson jacket.  I bought this for $105.00 for my sister.  It's about her style and I like making her smile.  You can find this online at the Betsey store for $350.00.  Plenty of pockets, zipper in the front as well as additional press buttons, the inside is a silky pink leopard print. 

Nothing makes stressing over work better like some new accessories and clothes.  Happy shopping readers! 

Tunnel to Towers Run September 25th, 2011

I implore every New Yorker to attempt this race at least once in his/her life.  You can choose to run or walk, it is only a 5k, (or 3.1 miles in non-runner lingo).  I have had many out of towners ask me what this race was all about, so please excuse me if you already know.  This race retraces the final steps that off duty NYFD firefighter Stephen Siller took before he died, along with 343 other firefighters, responding to the call of duty on 9/11. 

The race began around 9:30am in Brooklyn.  Runners and walkers anxiously swelled the empty streets on the Gowanus approach to the Brooklyn Battery Tunnel.  The course leads you through the tunnel, north onto West Street, left on Liberty Street, to Battery Park Esplanade, then right on North Esplanade, right onto West Street and finishing at West & Vesey Streets, a stone's throw from where the new building are being resurrected in the mighty twin towers place.

Not many things in life have moved me the way being a participant in this race has.  Multiple times you will tear, if not cry.  I convinced my mother and brother to run, but I decided to walk with my mom, (even though not running was killing me, I wanted to experience this race by her side and not by a stranger's).  I told her this was something she needed to feel, and in the end she wholeheartedly agreed.  Over 30,000 people ran or walked.  You saw firefighting squads representing different countries running as a team, in full fledged uniform complete with those heavy oxygen tanks.  You saw military men and ROTC enrollees, people carrying 8 poles with American flags waving.  Seeing all of these people unite for a common cause, to remember the good that was done by our fallen heroes on that fateful day, gave me chills.

Before the race bell tolled the national anthem was sung.  Imagine 30,000 voices all clammering and laughing.  Then all at once nothing.  You could have heard a pin drop, so much so that all  I heard was the hum of the NYPD helicopter overhead.  The silence was deafening.  To see throngs of people show such deference for the nation we live in, and for all those who have died defending its honor, is truly a magnificent thing to behold.  As we edged closer to the start line I see runners to the side of me begin to part.  It's Rudy Giuliani just casually walking past the crowd.  The starting gun sounds, and we're off! 

Various high school cheerleading teams flank the sidelines encouraging runners on.  Colleges and universities enter whole sports teams to run, (I saw multiple lacrosse, soccer and basketball teams running in uniform).  My mother and I struck up a nice little chat with an older gentlemen from New Mexico, who was just in town to participate in this event, and who happened to be perfectly in tune with our turtlesque pace.

Right before you enter the tunnel police officers solemnly guard a piece of twisted steel, no doubt a beam from one of the towers that fell on that fateful day.  Runners reach out to touch it, and I do the same.  How crazy is it that this inanimate, ugly object can generate a tear in even the strongest of eyes? 
The tunnel air is thick and humid.  Polluted from millions of commutes that pass each day, this probably is not the best place to be running but it definitely is a trip.  Then, to foster even more of an adrenaline rush, speakers that are strategically placed throughout the tunnel come to life.  I hear a familiar song, played by one of my favorite rock groups, the DropKick Murphy's, blare loud and clear, (shoving off to Boston was the song, if it's slightly familiar to you it's because you remember it from Leonardo DiCaprio's car chase scene in the movie "The Departed").    At points when the music dies down, a chant erupts throughout the moving mass, all at once soft, but then louder and louder till it's a deafening scream, u.s.a., u.s.a., U.S.A, U.S.A.!!!

Finally, there's the light at the end of the tunnel.  When you exit the tunnel onto West Street, hundreds of volunteers are there handing out water and spectators are present goading you on.  343 firefighters carry banners depicting the faces of the dead around their necks.  You pass all of the eyes of our fallen heroes; it is a sombering moment as you see the youth in many of their faces, and their names. What their families have lost, what legacies they left behind.  These thoughts spiral through your head and you can't believe how many there are, you keep going and going and still there's more.  For God to have taken so many angels you pray that it makes sense in the intricate web of life.

As you approach the finish line, and the beautiful red, white and blue balloon banner that stretches in an arch across the street, you become overwhelmed by emotion.  All of your love, all of your pride, everything you've ever pushed out of your mind concerning 9/11 because it was just to painful to really sit and mull over, pours out of you as you cross the finish.  I have never been prouder to be an American. 

The after party is chock filled with freebies, hamburgers, hot dogs, water and beer, (although how anyone can reach for a beer after depleting your body like that is beyond my comprehension).  A concert stage is set up, bagpipes, (my FAVORITE instrument, they give off the most bad-ass, ready to go to war sound) local politicians and various family members of Stephen Siller come on stage to thank everyone for a successful race.

As the merry goers slowly depart, I too must catch the next ferry, (I had a 3pm soccer game on East 6th Street).  This race, it represents something so much bigger than who you are, it represents the spirit and the resiliency of the American people.  The ability to do good when the world seems to be crumbling all around.  This race isn't for a PR, or to stay in shape.  This race is in memory of all those that have died saving us in the past, and for all those that will die saving us in the future.

I would like to thank the Stephen Siller Foundation for stirring emotions inside of me that I did not think possible.  From such ashes rises such inspirations.  In keeping theme with the organization's motto,
"Let Us Do Good" 

The Glory Days

Happy Saturday!

Last night I had the pleasure of being invited to New Jersey Institute of Technology's alumnae night during the women's soccer game.  I graduated from NJIT in 2007, and spent my junior and senior year there after I transferred from St. Peter's College.  All of the soccer alums were honored at halftime and afterwards there was a meet and greet at the Highlander Pub.  NJIT was playing against SPC, so for me this game was very nostalgic, as I spent two years playing for the soccer programs at both schools. 

Watching the game made me wish I was back playing soccer in college.  What I would give just to be able to be priveleged enough to play soccer every day again with games twice a week.  I remember doing the beep test and timed miles around the track.  I remember skinning my thighs and knees raw slidetackling on the turf.  I remember the joyous victories and the crushing defeats, the yellow cards and punishing sprints that made me the person I am today. 

Soccer in college shaped my character and taught me what it was like to persevere, to overcome adversity.  I remember coach running us so hard with the intention of making us throw up, and at all costs I would not, and did not, give her that satisfaction.  I could run through walls.  I wouldn't say I was the most skillful player, or the fastest, but I had the heart.  The intensity with which I played and the tenacity was unrivaled.  I played alongside players from different countries and with my best friends, and I was even lucky enough to play on the same team as my younger sister, (a year and a half my junior).

I remember the pains of August preseason, suffering through near heat exhaustion on the turf, (which gets 10 degrees hotter than grass) and 7:00am spring season practices.  The plane flights, the long car rides and the hotel stays.  Battling through 90 minutes of play, with sprained ankles, pulled muscles and concussions.  I miss the trash talking and the fierce competition.

And now I sit in the stands watching 22 girls lucky enough to play against each other on that very same field.  It's torture.  Was I ever that fast or in shape?  The rain is coming down hard now, and I am sitting next to my sister and her 20 month old baby girl, Kaylee.  Wow, who would have ever thought I would be an aunt watching NJIT play years later?  I guess it's true what they say, you don't really know what you have until it's gone.  If I could give any of those girls a piece of advice, from a former collegiate player to a younger, give everything you've got, because you'll never have this moment again.   You could be a freshmen with three more years on your NCAA clock or a senior playing your last game: you give everything you are.  There is nothing more satisfying and fulfilling then walking off that field knowing you played your absolute best, you played your heart out.  And if 10 other players walking off can say the same thing, than that team just created magic for 90 minutes. 

I miss being part of a team, I miss the comraderie.  Going to class wearing sweats because your just way too sore to dress up, and seeing girls walk the hallways decked out in makeup and heels and nice clothes.  Then you see a teammate dressed in similar fashion as yourself and you smile to one another, because you know you share something that the majority of the student population will never know.

I am happy that NJIT is working on keeping this family together through alumnae events such as this.  The new coaching staff, Amanda and Sergio, seem very dedicated to the program.  The AD's, Lenny and Bob, are wholeheartedly committed to keeping this soccer family together.

At halftime, drenched, Mandy, Kaylee, my boyfriend Frank and I all walked in the fitness center.  I wanted to see the locker room, is it how I remembered it?  Excited now, I walk anxiously with a few of the other girls who have since graduated to go see.  When we open the door, I see on the far wall all of the framed   action photos of previous years MVP's lining the tops of the lockers.  I see my best friend Katie, who won the award for 2004, then next to her  my sister Mandy, who won in 2005, me for 2006 and finally Sadie, one of the best goalkeepers I have never had the privelege of playing with (I graduated the year she came on board), who won for regular season 2007.  If seeing your influence on the NJIT soccer program still posted on the walls isn't adrenaline pumping, I don't know what is. 

Naturally then, my sister and I had to take pictures sitting in our own lockers, that are now unfamiliar to us as they have since taken up new residents....

Don't forget one with my precious niece!  I hope one day she will be playing here!

The following are some pictures of the alumns....these girls are simply MARVELOUS!!

These two ladies weren't here tonight, but were forces to be reckoned with when the played, Sarah and Erin....

Kaylee will be on this wall someday!

NJIT won 2-1.  The win was a tad bittersweet for me because of my history with both teams, but I am so happy for NJIT.  Winning on your hometurf is an indescribable feeling.  We went up to the pub and I was surprised to see pictures of the women's soccer team posted there as well!

The pictures below are bigger versions of the photos framed with the jerseys...this is my team sitting with assistant coach Tiffany for a post game pep talk, (or more like a, "hey you girls are going to be running tomorrow" talk)

This next picture is of me running with my teammate Aine from Ireland....

The picture below is us getting ready to play, our keeper was Bruna who hails from Brazil..I wonder what she's doing now...

This is DJ slapping everyone's hands pre-game, that's Mandy with her infamous headgear to the left, and half of Krista to her side.

Mandy schooling some chicks...(I hate to admit it but she's a more technically sound player than I will ever be)

And finally here's an action shot of me.  I wish I could be doing this everyday.

The administration at NJIT is looking to do a more formal soccer alumnae get together in December.  I can't wait!  The next best thing to actually playing is reliving the glory days and connecting with new players. I am happy to be a part of this team, even if it means just watching from the stands.     

Broadway!

For my mother's birthday I decided to buy two tickets to see Cirque Du Soleil "Zarkana" at Radio City.  I know she's been dying to go ever since she first saw the advertisements for it at the beginning of the summer.  I have seen a few CDS's and each one is even more thrilling than the last.  For those of you who may not know, CDS is a type of modern, contemporary circus, minus the animal brutality.  Usually, the shows are in French, or some other romantic language, and I just follow along but this show was in English...SCORE!  If your like me, than you loveee eye candy.  The costumes, makeup, set design, characters, were all were so flawlessly genuine and unique. 

If you appreciate art than you MUST go see this show.  The creativity, artistry and technique that these dancers, acrobats and singers possess is simply amazing.  Their routines are so perfected and honed that you would forget these stage performers are actually human at times.  Ballerinas executed such difficult moves with such grace and poise that it seemed almost unfair.  Whyyyy didn't I stick with dance when I was younger?!  My favorite routines were the snake and spider bit, (I won't spoil for you but the stage scenery and costumes are superb).  The backdrops and color schemes that were created are so out of this world you have to wonder whether or not the creators were on some type of hullucinogenics.

Whatever you describe this show as, THAT is what I want to do with my life.  Anything, everything.  I'll do the makeup, costume design, lighting, singing, ANYTHING.  It's something so much greater than any one individual. 

Witnessing performances like these, that are so breathe-taking and awe-inspiring, makes me believe so much more in how many good and wonderful things there are in this world to offer.  I was so overstimulated by all of the events going on at once during a routine I started to freak out.  You can not focus on one thing on the stage because a thousand other subtle little nuances are going on all around.  It's as if your watching a real life fairy tale play out before your eyes. Zarkana truly stretched the limits of the imagination.  All I could think about was, man, I want to be part of this!   Alas, it is not to be, as I have the flexibility of a wooden board and the grace and coordination of newly born fawn.  Makes me want to trade in my cleats for a pair of ballerina slippers.  Almost ;)

On Right Hand Rings

I spend so much time worrying about my family, paying bills and managing other people’s lives that I sometimes forget that it is OK for me to indulge myself every once in awhile.  At least, that was the justification for my most recent purchase: a $600 14k gold garnet and diamond ring.  On a normal day, $600 is usually too rich for my blood, but not on this 75% off, one day online shopping pass at Macy’s.  $199 seems doable, right?  Good Lord, my friend has an additional 20% off coupon code that I could apply.  I’m drooling now, furiously clicking the confirm sale button and vacillating over whether not I chose the right size ring.  My sister has baby hands, and she’s a size 5; mine are significantly larger, something that I’ve learned to accept over time. 7.5 sounds about right I think.  I usually wear white gold, so taking a gamble on a yellow gold ring seems kind of iffy, but who cares at the right price: $173, final sale.

SOLD!! 

I anxiously scour the mailbox every day, hoping to see a package from Macy’s.  On the one day I fail to check, of course my package arrives, and I’m at work. Drats.  When that magical number hits, 5:00pm, I fly out the door to my car and race home, because this is the highlight of my work week: checking the mail.

I burst in the door and tear open the white, plastic package.  A little cream colored box slips out, and I flip open the lid.  Wow. The ring is much daintier than I imagined, which is a plus because as any of you ladies with big hands know, the bigger the ring, the manlier your hands look.  Feminine and sparkly, I feel totally vindicated in my splurge.  You cannot even tell it’s a gold ring, because of the tiny diamonds around the band, so it goes great with my white gold jewelry.  The cushion cut garnet stone, my birthstone, is set splendidly in between a diamond square border.  I’m in love. 

What’s the purpose of this story?  There really isn’t any.  Maybe that it’s OK to allow yourself to put “you” first and throw reason and budget to the wind.  I’ll start saving for my future later mom.  Did I really need another ring? No.  But it felt damn good being a woman who could buy it for herself and place it proudly on her right hand. 

 

You Don't Have to be Skinny to be Hungry

Disgruntled about a midday afternoon meeting in Manhattan, I sat consumed by my thoughts on the 1 train uptown.  The doors closed at 14th Street, (I need to get to 59th Street, Columbus Circle) when a loud, booming voice rose above the clatter of the subway tracks.

The majority of the people who ride the subway appear apathetic and cold, aggravated by the solidarity of their banal commutes.  I see foreigners board, chattering away in an unfamiliar dialect.  A business casual older gentlemen rushes on and leans against the metal pole right in front of me just in time as the train lurches forward. 

I immediately dislike him for some unknown reason, maybe it was because of his overly dignified looking salt and pepper hair or the smugness of his thick, black rimmed glasses.

The booming voice became louder.  A heavy set man, who claimed to be 28 years old and unemployed, wearing a plaid lumberjack shirt and dumpy looking cargo jean shorts moved slowly closer.  He stated his plight matter of factly.  No job, no food, trying to stay afloat, blah blah blah.  Aren't we all buddy.

Don't get me wrong, often enough I hand out spare change to the aspiring street musician, or a loose dollar floating forgotten in my pocketbook to a particularly down and out looking individual.  But I couldn't be bothered today.  I work in Staten Island and was inconveniently scheduled for a 1pm meeting on 63rd Street, smack dab in the middle of the work day.

I place my head in my hands, stroking my temples as if to say, don't look at me because I'm not buying any of this today.

All of a sudden the business man with the thick black glasses started to speak.  Oh my God, he's going to trash this poor man for not working hard enough to find a job, or for bilking the middle class for a dollar.  I instinctively become embarrassed for this unfortunate, unsuspecting man who appears to be the recipient of this angry man's "Holier Than Thou" tirade.

"Your hungry?" says the stern business man.
"Yes," replied the disheveled man.
"Are you willing to get off at 23rd Street?  I'll buy you something to eat."
"Yes sir, I would like that, thank you".
"Good, we'll get off the next stop."
That was all that was said.

I was taken aback. 

A large grin slowly crept across my face; I was instantly proud of this man, and disappointed by my own misconceptions.  This seemingly insignificant interaction boosted my faith in humanity and made me gaze differently at the myriad of faces on the train.  For some reason, these strangers did not look so ominous now.

I watched the hungry man and the business suit exit the subway doors together, and felt infinitely more fortunate for having a 1pm meeting in Manhattan than I did just 15 minutes earlier.