White After Labor Day

Labor Day weekend marks the last chance to use our season beach pass,  the time to deflate and store Tucker's favorite pool raft, and the time to call our landscaper and begin seeding our unfinished backyard paradise. But first a trip to an NYC rooftop BBQ with my former college roomie, a visit with my Husband's college friends and their toddler, and wrapping up with triple dinner date with my work BFF, her husband and their baby (who happens to be Tucker's best friend, whether he knows it or not).

Whatever your plans for the holiday weekend, be sure they do not include packing away your whites. Instead, wear them one day next week, and then get a new pair of J.Crews' winter white pants (but of course, wait until they go on sale).

Manic Monday

There's nothing like an infant with pink eye and a double ear infection suffering at 3am to make one par down on the necessary elements of the morning routine. Outfit? Thankfully OCD about laying out all clothes the night (or 2 before) and as usual, an easy navy jersey dress with large necklace (that makes me smile when I catch its reflection in the mirror) slips on in an instant. Make up? Only what can be applied with one hand- Bare Minerals powder and under eye concealer. Breakfast? Nutri-grain bar eaten over the sink while sick infant clings to leg. If work can be accomplished with the same single handed skills the day will end better than it began.

Easternly Breeze

Ahh, the fresh air after a storm, dry as an Arizona afternoon. When late August falls and the morning carries the crisp taste of fall I am always eager to pull out cooler weather staples. But then 1:00 PM rolls around and the usual heat punctures my hopes of 3/4 sleeves and flat, sleek tresses (those of us with thick, naturally curly hair long for 'flat' the way girls with fine, limp locks crave 'volume').

After a rare few days in East Hampton (sans baby), shopping in the stores that have their second location where I live anyway (an indication that perhaps we should pack up and head for a simpler, more affordable part of the country), I have fall fashion fatigue. I know, it seems impossible, but crawling along rt. 27 at 5 miles an hour to get from JCrew to Trata, to Woelffer Estates only to crawl back down the single lane several hours later will bring even the most avid shopper and wine guzzler to their breaking point. The sunflower stands on the side of the road, fresh corn harvested while you wait and open stretches of ocean beach lessen the sting of overcrowding, but the charm has been eroded considerably in the 16 + years since we originally set foot in the east Long Island phenom to ride in the Hampton Classic and sun ourselves in the quiet backyard pool. (A new bright blue feather weight cashmere t not sold in other locations is a nice souvenir, while my sore back is a battle scar of sitting in a practical, family friendly Camry the whole ride back to Nassau County).

Accents

Looking through home decor catalogues has become an increasingly time consuming activity these days. Accent walls are a new obsession, and have currently replaced fall tweed my Goggle search bar list.  In an attempt at my (first) DIY home improvement project, I made my first trip to Sherwin Williams (conveniently located next to my neighborhood Starbucks, which makes for deadly impulse buying). Our newly renovated home needs very little actual work, but making it your own requires a certain amount of imprinting of your personal stamp. So one can of Dove gray paint, 2 rolls of painters tape, a roller, touch-up brush and $100 later, I was in the middle of my living room, sweating, and trying not to drip paint on Tucker's favorite Melissa & Doug puzzle board. When I removed the blue tape, I was disappointed to see some imperfections where my perfectly (professionally) painted white moldings where spotted with Dove gray. But maybe a tall houseplant will help hide the tell tale DIY missteps. Otherwise I must say I am very proud!

Spotted

I am slightly obsessive, and a tad compulsive (a problem that has plagued me since early childhood when all the toys had to be stored in size order, by color, and  no homework was ever left until the day it was due, ever). So when I saw a pair of cheetah print loafers in pony hair, with a perfect 3/4 inch heel, I had to find the perfect pair for fall. With the mortgage for the fabulous new house looming overhead, this search requires even more diligence than usual. (Style note: cheetah print footwear is cheesy in a 4 inch stiletto, yet classic and even urban-preppy in a men's style loafer. And it actually goes with most colors for fall- black, red, plum, camel. Treat it like a neutral flat.)

There are many excellent contenders (a few from fairly unlikely sources). The first has been reinventing itself in recent times, turning the corner to compete with the likes of Banana, Ann, perhaps even J.Crew with its Canvas line, and stepped up tailoring of classics. These are pretty great, and south of $100, Lands End hits the mark.

A bit of a stretch for something that won't be worn more than a few times a month (pony hair is not exactly 'durable' or toddler-treated), this pair by Jimmy Choo is fabulous. And one of my favorite veteran footwear brands (Cole Haan) offers their own classic version of this trendy trotter, with the foot-friendly Nike Air that has made their pumps even more popular.

In keeping with the fiscally responsible, mother-before- fashionista model of thought, this pair (from my former Alma mater, Steve Madden) is a pretty great value find, with the added benefit of free shipping from Zappos. Decisons, decisions.

Fall Preview

The highly anticipated September issues have begun to hit stands, and I've made my way through a few hundred glossy pages of glorious fall tidbits (which requires abandoning all other activities, such as working out, eating, or Bravo in order to carve out time).

In a nutshell, heres what I think so far. Michael Kors sheaths, fur (faux for me), mixed patterns (J.Crew  pictured right, Balenciaga), military (Jason Wu), oxford loafer pumps, deep plum (clothes and nails): good.  Glossy leather (Marni, Gucci), hats, glitter (Louis Vuitton), enormous space suit shaped coats (Jil Sander): not so good. Being forced more than ever to shop for fall in my existing closet, more care needs to be given to choosing new ways to wear not so new clothes (good thing I've always been obsessed with polka dots, tweed, loafers, and Prada.)

Dirty Denim

Saturday night, NYC. The occasion: my college roomie's 30th birthday (Craftbar, excellent as always). I broke my own rule and wore dark rinse jeans in July (JBrand that go with everything), so I shouldn't be too surprised that I arrived home at 11pm drenched in sweat and rain.

While waiting for the LIRR (suburbanites must take mass transit when they travel into the City, or else risk summer gridlock and astronomical parking garage bills) it started to drizzle. I realized quickly that I had wasted 50 minutes ironing my hair with one hand, while fighting my infant off of my leg and out of the baby un-proofed bathroom cabinets with the other. The drizzle turned immediately to pouring rain, the kind that drenches sidewalks, hot with summer sun, which then release that musty, soaking smell into the suffocating air. The train crept into the station, and continued its snails pace ascent into the summer hell known as Penn Station. Still some time to spare before dinner (I am obsessively early to all events) I was able to stop at my favorite JCrew in Flatiron for a peak at the sale rack. (One solitary tweed No. 2 pencil in a size 2  for $20.99, reduced from $128? score.)

Dinner was fabulous, and a unique chance to see a few college friends that I havent seen since before I had Tucker (and who I used to drink Raspberry Smirnoff and Diet Coke from plasitc cups with at the Jersey Shore). Headed back hurriedly to Hell Station with that pressing urgency of knowing you could miss the last train back to LI, I couldn't catch a cab, stepped into one of those bottomless puddles that gather on street corners after summer downpours, and made it with fresh blisters, soaking wet pants that I could barely sit in, and 3 minutes to spare. Fittingly, I ended up sitting across from 3 drunk, loud girls from the south shore who had gotten on my Oyster Bay train in error. They too made the poor choice of denim in July, but the loudest of the 3 decided she'd take her pants off to rectify the situation. Never a dull moment after 10pm on the LIRR.