Nothing has ever made me quote Rachel Zoe until I saw these Azzedine Alaïa ankle boots on Jak & Jil. I guess it's not a surprise that it popped out of my mouth for the first time for a pair of shoes priced at around $1800. My oh my.
I read Eat, Pray, Love after it was recommended to me by a friend during a time in my life where I felt lost and suffocated by a terrible everlasting relationship/breakup—and I will admit that it helped. It wasn't until after I finished it that I found out Oprah was hosting whole shows dedicated to the novel and women all over the country were obsessed with the pseudo self-helpness (I should have known when a lady on the subway interrupted my reading to tell me that the book had changed her life). It's probably good that I was at first blind to its popularity among the disenchanted female set, because I am sure I would have never read it. But although Elizabeth Gilbert's experience eased a rough period of my life, I have absolutely no desire to see Julia Roberts search for her self on the big screen. No way. But when I was at the movies earlier this week I saw the trailer for the film and I will have to say the casting agent did a mighty fine job (despite Julia). Three of the most dashing actors I know play her love interests: Billy Crudup, James Franco and Javier Bardem. Mmmmm, almost makes me want to go see the movie just to drool over their fine faces. Almost.
In other trailer news, I did just come across one for a movie I am dying to see. Oh Sofia Coppola, I have loved all three of your films and expect no less from your next. Her aesthetic, soundtracks and the stories themselves are so the way I would love to make movies or at least watch them. The trailer for her upcoming flick Somewhere even features the Strokes song that I blogged about last week. Check it out below, I can't wait until it hits theaters.
As in USA in German...Holy hell: 22 shots, 10 on goal and one in the net at the 90-somethingth minute. Man, that could have been just about the most stressful/exciting thing I have ever seen. Also, the first time I have been in a room full of Americans in a long time — it felt pretty damn good to win and actually understand the screams of celebration word for word. Can't wait to watch the US beat Ghana on Saturday in New York City!
Although I did have a lovely time, yesterday was one of those days that would have been a whole lot more enjoyable if I had not been alone. I mean it was the ultimate girl day done solo: shopping, sushi and Sex and the City 2—if only I could have squeezed in a mani-pedi.
It would have been so nice to have one of my girls with me, to talk me down from or convince me it is okay to buy another pair of wooden platforms (more on that later), or to share another roll with, or to whisper and laugh over Carrie's ridiculousness (or that of the movie in general) but still both get teary-eyed and share the strong desire to have a martini afterward. Sure makes my heart hurt a little missing my ladies. But it also gets me so excited to see a bunch of them in NYC very very soon.
We had a very very mellow and relaxed weekend. Karsten has been tired and stressed from work and I have been tired and stressed from finding work, so we didn't do much but lay around.
It all went something like this: Indian food, England v. Algeria, Ben & Jerry's (a pint costs 6 euros here!) and movie in bed, thrift stop, avocado tomato mozzarella salad, nap on the couch, soccer TV overload at Media Market, job interview via skype (weird!), homemade tortilla espanola, phone calls to the U.S., delicious Sunday at-home brunch, Karsten hipster haircut via me (oops), afternoon walk, Schöfferhofer Grapefruit on the river, yummy dinner, Brazil v. Ivory Coast, call with dad, The Shawshank Redemption, tears, bed.
Did you know that soccer is fussball (pronounced foosball) in German and foosball is called kicker? Anyway, on Friday I watched all three cup games, each with a different person, and I will say I am starting to see soccer in my head when I close my eyes. And from the benches these Germans have us sit on to the stress of the anxiety-inducing USA tie (that would have been a win if it wasn't for the doofus above) my back is aching! So this weekend I have taken a little soccer break, only hearing the cheers from the bar downstairs from our house where we have become all too regular. I feel overwhelmed with all the soccer I have been watching, but have I told you that my brother Andrew has taken off work so he can watch every single game—that is 64 games my friend! He is probably walking around in a daze talking like a straight up sportscaster by now. Nutters.
Breaking news: looks like I might have to watch the Brazil v. Cote D'ivoire tonight.
Not sure if you noticed (of course you didn't) in this pic my boyfriend and I are wearing very similar outfits. He walked in the door from work and we instantly looked at each other and laughed. We were pretty much wearing the masculine and feminine version of the same outfit: dark jeans, cream vintage shirt and all. I made him change before we went out to dinner. But this actually happens a lot (as you can see below), and sometimes we don't notice until we are already out the door. The thing about being twins with him is that I don't mind it as much as if it were with another girl (sometimes it is kinda sweet). Actually, a very fond NYC memory of mine is when Mitchell and I showed up to a Liz & Legs DJ night wearing the exact same thing. We flipped out of course, but it was more hilarious then embarrassing. But for some reason, matching a random chick at a party is my worst nightmare (well maybe not worst, but it is up there). One of the things I love about wearing so many vintage clothes, is that it is very unlikely that I will ever run into my doppelganger. I mean every time I wear something obviously from H&M, I get nervous that she is out there. So what is it about being twins that is so terrible for us ladies? I mean this mother daughter combo and trio of little boys is simply adorable.
I saw the Chloë Sevigny for Opening Ceremony lookbook last week and was definitely impressed per usual— but it wasn't until I flipped through the photos from the party for the line here and here that I really saw how cute and wearable it is and realize how much I would die for one of those drop-waisted dresses or skirts in the white floral, polka dot or leopard print. I'm loving all the grey too and don't even get me started on the shoes!
Last week I told you that one of the little things I love about Berlin is that it stays light out so late—well I just discovered that the day begins much earlier too. On Friday night (Sat morning) Karsten and I found ourselves out a little later than we anticipated (but still not later than bar closing time in NYC) and our walk home was already completely in daylight. With the streets being empty-ish, I of course had to take advantage of the opportunity and stage a little photo shoot (bag and shoes both thrifted in Berlin) in front of all the Turkish wedding dress stores in my Neukölln neighborhood. There are tons of them around every corner—yet another little thing I love about Berlin. Aren't they amazing? Such tacky goodness. The rest of the weekend took a more relaxing tone with a lot of lounging and World Cup watching.
It all went something like this: Indian food, second half of Uruguay v. France outside, walk through the park, Club Mate (my new energy go-to drink), drinks on Skalitzer Straße with Anne, Konrad Tönz, Neukölln wedding inspiration, late night kebabs, sleeping in, name game, Kreuzberg flea market with Erin, talk with our new vendor friend Charlie, new impractical (but cool) bag, milchkaffee by the water, USA v. England downstairs, Weeds, Sunday house cleaning, Vietnamese salad, Germany v. Australia downstairs, celebration in the streets, long overdue phone conversation with Sarah.
The World Cup has started and being here in Germany it really feels like a whole new ball game....ha! Americans are getting more and more into soccer each year, but I don't think their excitement will ever compare to what I have been seeing on the streets of Berlin. Almost every other car and store is proudly waving a German flag and all restaurants and bars have a huge TV or projector screen out front showing all games. The buzz in the air is palpable. And although Germany does not play until this evening, I have been warned that the nationalism that takes over the country is not always a pretty sight. I will keep you posted.
As for last night's tie between England and the USA, I was nervous throughout. This cup around I find myself whole heartedly rooting for my country (not claiming to be for Spain because I was born there or because I am ashamed of you know who. Thanks Obama)— my own nationalism coming in the form of nail-biting anxiety. And being away from the US, I feel especially proud to be an American. I also felt a little surge of something special, when I thought of myself, my dad, my mom and my three brothers all watching the same game from cities all over the world: Berlin, New York City, Glasgow, Oakland and San Francisco. Awwe.
And for all you non-soccer fans I will say that the close-ups of David Beckham brooding on the sidelines with a bit of stubble and impeccable hair in a perfectly tailored three-piece suit, might have been worth dealing with your 90 minutes of boredom. Sorry, his good looks are simply ridiculous.
Anyway, here is an interesting take on the game. I really couldn't have said it better myself— granted the writer is a NY Times reporter.
In Showdown, Sure Hands and Shaky Ones
The Hands Theory is often invoked by Americans who are spooked by soccer and insist the sport will never get anywhere in the United States because we Yanks only understand games that involve the use of hands.
This theory overlooks the magic so obviously visible to the naked eye, performed with the pedal extremities by artists named Beckham or Baggio or Drogba or Pelé.
For once, however, the Hands Theory made the slightest bit of sense Saturday when the Hands Nation played a highly credible 1-1 draw with the No-Hands nation in their first match at the World Cup in South Africa.
Tim Howard, an American athlete who can dunk a basketball, who plays with the looseness and confidence of a Derek Jeter or Alex Rodriguez, saved all the searing shots he could possibly reach, whereas Robert Green, a surprise starter in goal for the No-Hands nation, fumbled a two-hopper that came skipping straight to him.
I've been listening to bits of Karen Elson's (who happens to be one of the lovely redheads I covet) debut LP "The Ghost Who Walks" this balmy Berlin afternoon. I will have to say that even though there are so many reasons one would want or expect this album to be terrible:
A) She is a gorgeous model with an uber successful career and amazing style B) She is married to Jack White C) Jack White produced the album
But my friends no, it is not terrible at all. In fact I kinda of like it; the way I kind of like the White Stripes. Some songs can go but I am into the one below — makes me want to find a long dress like hers, sway and a dance with my arms in the woods by a burning fire. Oh yeah.
But back to the nepotism I am not done yet — so Jack White played the drums on some songs of course, but also her drummer is Jackson Smith, son of Patti Smith and husband of Meg White. Isn't that amazing? I love keeping it in the family.
...It stays light out until 10 pm. This photo was taken on our balcony at a time in the evening when America would already be in the dark. I guess this makes up for those winters, maybe.
Also, the sun always begins to shine a little brighter at 6 o'clock for an hour or so. It's strange but so nice, and great for the few Berliners who have regular jobs to still get some day in after work.
I finally sorted out my camera situation so now I can tell you about my lovely weekend.
It all went something like this: Görlitzer Park with Sebastian, Manuel and the Messiah, pho, Jens and Karsten at Ä Bar, Badeschiff, thrifted and shortened tiger dress, floppy hat from Rome, first swim of the season, a long game of M K F, bike ride through BBQ madness, Spanish food, toilet guard dog, pompadour fun (for me), early bed time, S Bahn to the lake with the boys, picnic, first freshwater swim, beer garden, adult talk, twin outfit, escape to Italy/Italian dinner.