Well I finally have some decisions made on my bathroom plans!! I will be doing the walls in a purple color. I already have the shower curtain I'm going to use, and I'm going with a square pedestal sink with satin nickel hardware. Here are a few examples of some of the things I've chosen. I promise pics as soon as it's finished, which will hopefully be sooner rather than later.
This photo was taken at the Grammy's. That should explain it a little at least. Maybe this photo will help...
But seriously, it is Steven Cojocaru. He is a flamboyantly gay fashion critic. He wrote the Red Carpet Diaries. So what in the hell was he doing wearing that hideous jacket at the Grammys??
This woman is a force not to be reckoned with. Her fabulousness is undeniable. Kay Thompson's character in Funny Face has nothing on this woman. She is glamour, she is fashion, she is a true DIVA.
Here is a very good synopsis on her life and career written by Blair Schulman on Divas-The Site.
If the Society Diva of yore had a Little Buddy, it might be Jacques Cartier of Cartier, the jeweler to High Society. If these same Divas had a Number One Dinner Invite, they would definitely nominate Wallis, the Duchess of Windsor as the guest who can out-dress the rest. But if there were one person to whom they could all turn to as the last word in style, it would certainly be Diana Vreeland. Mrs. Vreeland was the beginning and the end in all things chic. Her persona and dictums were not to be overlooked or ignored.
Rather than a mere silver spoon, some Divas were born with an entire set of platinum cutlery in their mouths, thereby failing to grasp the meaning of overkill. Outsized, gilt-edged and studded with enough bibelots to blind the Sun King, some of these women have taken their diamond-encrusted, mink-trimmed coals to Newcastle and created a big, sooty mess. Women of lesser means and lesser taste often took their cue from the very, very rich to believe that more is more. It is why someone like Diana Vreeland was able to exist. She bridged the gap between tacky and hideous to create that splendiferous hallowed ground called chic. Whether or not one could learn it, or had to be born with it, is still heavily debated. No matter, there emerged a symbol for looking good in this world and how could you not respect a woman who summed up style with the mere words, "Elegance is refusal?" Any pretense attributed to her stylish imprimatur is purely coincidental.
"The best thing about London is Paris."
Never one for humble aspirations, DV, as she was often referred to, hit the ground running. Born in Paris to British parents she never even spoke English until her family moved to New York at the start of World War I. Diana studied ballet and likely got a feel for fluidity in movement, a hallmark of style. In 1924, she married banker Thomas Reed Vreeland and eventually had two children. The Reed Vreelands were not rich at all, but were socially connected, called "good goods" and welcomed in the best homes. For a time they lived in Albany, New York, then moved to Paris in 1935. A bright, educated couple, the two were avid readers and grasped an understanding of the world at large. "… and Reed and I would read things together out loud, which was marvelous. That was the charm of it - when you've heard the word, it means so much more than if you've only seen it."
Upon her return to the United States in 1937 she began work as a fashion editor for Harper’s Bazaar. At the time, the fashion industry was a gathering storm of greatness. Schiaparelli, Chanel, Mainbocher and Charles James, to name a few, were all leaving their mark in the world of haute couture. Employment at the magazines was acceptable for ladies of gentle birth who wanted to have careers before heading into brilliant marriages. Babe Paley, Doris Duke and Slim Keith all worked at Harper’s Bazaar at one time or another, offering their style and perspective to the magazine. Not to mention their unique ability to be among the rare few who could actually afford the designs of these magnificent couturiers.
"Pink is the navy blue of India."
Better than everyone, DV understood change and how we now lived in a visual age. As with life itself, one must recreate a certain dis-unity, angular poses, hands and feet being what they are – movement, a surprise at the ready and isn’t that what life is but a menagerie of surprise?
She inspired everyone from debutantes to drag queens with her mark on fashion. Or perhaps it was the other way around. With her heavily rouged cheekbones, mile-long lashes and red lacquer everywhere - trademarks that identified her for decades - one could imagine they were in the presence of a modern Watteau, reality presented to the viewer with a gentle caress. In terms of her personal style, Diana loved simple elegant clothing with splashy accessories. Exotic jewelry, hats and wonderful shoes were among her favorite fashion items.
Not all descriptions of her looks were generous, however, someone once described her having the face of a wooden drug-store Indian. But her clothing was the essence of chic – a simple dress, properly accessorized, one outstanding object that explained everything, not twenty expensive baubles that meant nothing.
"She makes the smallest detail important." Andy Warhol
At Harper’s Diana soon began changing the way fashion was reported to the public. Instead of simply reporting the styles and trends of fashion, Diana began to create, to motivate and popularize, certain objects, attitudes and ideas. She did this with her legendary observations, comments, wit and humor, keeping the American public - always wanting more. Readers began to learn of DV’s stratospheric thinking with her column, "Why Don’t You?" Such suggestions as "Cut up your old ermine wrap into a bathrobe!" and ‘Why don’t you wash your child’s hair in champagne?" were typical offerings. While not always the most practical advice, she made for good copy and struck a chord with the American woman who saw that the rules of good taste were bendable, as long as you did it with style.
She became fashion director two years later and stayed at the magazine until 1963, when she moved to Vogue. On one occasion during a fashion layout, Diana was informed that a phrase, "windbreaker" was already copyrighted. She rushed into the copy room and demanded, "Quick, what's another word for breaking wind?" On another occasion she created a two-page layout of a nude female lying face down in the sand, her derriere covered in a large black straw hat. The caption read, "Spend the summer under a big black sailor."
"Never fear being vulgar, just boring"
Her ability to spot talent brought us some of fashions’ best-known faces. She discovered Lauren Hutton in the 1960’s who went on to become one of the most photographed models, ever. She appeared on the cover of Vogue 25 times. And there is Iman's recollection of her first meeting with Mrs. Vreeland. "She put a bony hand under my chin, realigned my head to a profile position and pronounced: "Now, that's a neck!"
Even the décor of her apartment on Park Avenue had the air of invention. Armed with the thought "Garden in Hell," she and famed decorator Billy Baldwin created a hideaway completely decorated in lacquer reds with scarlet colored floral wall coverings, memorabilia and books. In the center of her living room was a bright red sofa piled high with an impressive collection of cushions, gilded mirrors and picture frames and delicate wall moldings.
With all that magic emanating from this one woman, one might think it could go on forever. Sadly though, without any fanfare at all, the chief of Conde Nast Publications, Si Newhouse, fired her in 1971. There was never a reasonable explanation of her termination. Either way, it was a heartbreaking mistake and a cruel response to a woman who devoted her life to style. Apparently the company had a history of letting people go without actually firing them directly – passive-aggressive business to the nth degree.
An evenhanded moment came when Mr. Newhouse found himself across a desk with Diana Vreeland staring at him. Though Newhouse had one of his flunkies let Vreeland know her services were no longer required, Vreeland apparently wished to hear the news from Si himself. After a long silence, Newhouse apparently found the courage and the words to let Vreeland go -- but was spooked by nightmares for some time afterward. It was a fierce moment in Ms. Vreelands professional life – a final chance to retain a shred of dignity which had been so callously ripped away.
One man’s discard is another man’s treasure and soon Diana was named a special consultant to the Costume Institute at the Metropolitan Museum. As special consultant from 1973 to 1989, she organized with the staff of the Costume Institute a series of highly popular exhibitions, including "The World of Balenciaga" (1973), "Romantic and Glamorous Hollywood Design" (1974), "The Glory of Russian Costume" (1976), and "Vanity Fair: A Treasure Trove of the Costume Institute" (1977). Her cache and knowledge can now be experienced by a broader audience. This world-renown appreciation is best shown as the Costume Institute Ball has become the hottest social ticket in town.
"Without emotion there is no beauty."
It is terrible to end with her death as someone like Diana Vreeland doesn’t merely die, but in 1989 she did leave this world for another - doing fabulous things with fluffy clouds and harps, no doubt.
As if she needed to ender herself to me any more, she got to lead a parade of fabulous drag queens! Lucky heiffer.
Marla
Here is an example of some of the cakes I have been selling. So far, as of today I have raised over $500. I usually sell a plate of petit fours like this for around $35.
Valentine's Day is a great generator of orders, and the "heart" theme allows me to get my message across along with my cakes. This cake above is an ice cream cake made with homemade ice cream and dark chocolate hearts and decorations.
The cake above is made with chocolate ganache and "Whoppers" for decorations. I have sold probably 5 of these cakes alone.
The cake above is the cake I made for my daughter's Valentine's Day party at school.
The cake above has been my best seller so far, selling 15 cakes. The chocolates on top are homemade as well as the cake itself.
I made many variations on this cake this year, in different colors and different themes upon request. I think in total I have sold probably 40 cakes and 32 petit fours. I would like to thank all of my friends and relatives who lent a hand and a kitchen when needed.
Gerry (Gerard) Butler has an undeniable sex appeal that any can see. But oh, how many layers there are to this man. He has a voice that can bring you to tears if you ever get the wonderful chance to hear him sing in person. He is a great and modest guy, and probably most notably, he is a real life hero. 
While shooting Mrs. Brown, he saved a little boy from drowning. He was given an award for it and everything. He was on a break visiting his mother (who lived close to the set they were shooting on that day) and he rescued a boy from the river nearby who was drowning.
He is from Scotland, went to University to be a lawyer and is close with his mother. Which translates into, he has a sexy accent, he is educated, and he has respect for women.
Am I trying to justify ogling this man by listing his accomplishments? Maybe. I do like my men a little smarter than bricks. But he's just so... PURTY... Let's just look at him for a while, shall we?
Don't get me wrong, rain isn't always bad. I love nothing more than to curl up on my plush sofa with a magazine or book, or girlie movie and let it pour. A fire would be a nice addition if I had a fireplace. But a cup of hot cocoa will suffice in a pinch.
But more often feel like this by the time I get home...
Maybe the sun will come back tomorrow...
