French cuffs

I went downstairs for a cup o' joe with Sophia W., the heiress intern, and I asked her to take a picture of me. I'm wearing a delightfully textured shirt from the Co-op, along with some khaki pants from Theory and New Balance sneakers. I had no idea when I bought the shirt, at the Warehouse Sale, that it had French cuffs. I mock people for wearing shirts with French cuffs, but I didn't mean to buy one, so it can't be my fault! I didn't realize.

Years ago, when I was still working at Sotheby's, my boss Benjamin Doller tried to give me a pair of cufflinks as a gift. When I glanced at them, I saw that they were the kind that you could slip your own tiny picture into, to customize them. There was already a sample picture in it, of a self-satisfied little baby. "Oh, no!" I exclaimed. "I'm not walking around here with a picture of some little white baby on my wrist!" Benjamin seemed amused by my outburst, but I was fired shortly after that. Ah, Sotheby's - where everything is for sale, even your soul.

Because I didn't accept those cufflinks, I now can only wear this shirt with the sleeves rolled up. What do rolled-up sleeves mean to you? To me, they mean "This outfit is not beyond salvaging. There is still hope."

Pat Field

Daniel and I went to see "Winnebago Man," then walked up Third Avenue to get some coffee. On the way, he pointed out the (semi) new retail location of Patricia Field. In my youth, it was on 8th Street. Then it moved to - I believe - Mulberry? Now it's on the Bowery. Tomorrow, who knows where ... Wherever the smug need asymmetric tunics, I suppose.

Once, I pretended that I'd worked at Patricia Field, to get a job at Citizen Clothing on the Castro in San Francisco. I'd moved to SF with no aim, no goal, and I ambled past the store one day and happened to look inside. A hot young fellow working inside gave me "the eye," and I got all excited and went in a day later and applied for a job. Talk about aimless! I gave them the number of my "manager at Patricia Field" - actually, my best friend Alia, in Los Angeles - and they called her for a reference, and she lied her ass off, and I got the job. It turned out to be sort of a lame job - they only gave me 20 hours a week, so I was pretty much destitute for those beginning days in California. I had to handle a lot of shiny blouses, which the gays were hot for at the time. But, a couple of months later I was dating the hot young fellow. A couple of days after that, I went home for Christmas. I returned to find that I'd been fired in a most passive-aggressive manner - I'd merely been removed from the schedule, and not been put back on. I guess I didn't bring as much to the position as you'd need to. I found a job as an administrative assistant at Lehman Brothers instead. There, I learned far more than I ever needed to know about real estate investment trusts.

Daniel recently purchased a pair of shorts from Patricia Field. I hope to help him out of them one evening.

So much going on

There is so much going on in this picture that I don't know where to begin.

Chris and Michael and I were at the Stonewall Inn, to commemorate the beginning of Gay Pride weekend, and also to show up for Chris' roommate, who is an adult cheerleader. Adult cheerleaders are sort of the opposite of me - they are optimistic and unironic and unselfconscious, and they can often be found in gatherings of people with strong senses of group identity.

We decided that we were going to stay for one cheer by Chris' roommate's cheerleading squad, and then leave to prowl to the Pier. But before we could leave, we saw another cheer, outside. And there was some sort of tourist there, who insisted that we photograph him with the cheerleaders. When I looked at the picture afterwards, I saw why. What a joker - he is looking up that lady cheerleader's dress. Oh, well, I'm sure that the lady cheerleader had prepared herself for that eventuality. When one is a lady cheerleader, I imagine, one must be prepared at all times for lawless tourists to peer up one's dress in a photo, on the day before Gay Pride, in the West Village of Manhattan.

Really, I had merely wanted a photo of the bear, so I could expound upon - what? Bears? "Fuzzies?" There are many euphemisms in use currently in the world of sexually active adults, and in this paragraph, I have used two of them.

Alyse in Madrid

As some of you know, my cousin Alyse is traveling through Europe currently. This picture is from a batch she posted on her Facebook page. In it, she is wearing a striped tee from American Apparel, jeans from Uniqlo (with the super low crotch cut / boy cut), some high top Vietnamese Converse knock offs from a vintage shop in Brooklyn, and a multicolored backpack from a vintage shop in LA. She is all over the map in this pic, as it were.

I like the forlorn-ness of this pic. What is she looking at? Who is she photographing? Perhaps Alyse herself doesn't know.

Often in my life, I have formed lasting bonds with people only to have them move away. In high school, it was Fatima P. After college, it was Alia S. Recently, my friend Tim moved to Berlin, where he blogs in a blog in which he has never mentioned me. I am very self-absorbed, as you must know by now, as you are reading a blog in which I reveal my life story through my outfits.

The most recent example of these friendships-with-separations was the intense bond I formed with Alyse last year. For a while, we were inseparable. We traded awkward stories starring my type-A sister, Maxine. Alyse cat-sitted for the Colonel. I mocked her other friendships (especially her friendship with her friend Midori, who can barely speak English!). Then she left, breaking my heart.

Where is Alyse now, on her European tour? She could be in Lisbon, I guess. She could be just about anywhere. She says she may return to NYC in the fall. I know, I know, I will probably be dead by then. But I will try to hang on, even if just to see what she's wearing then.

Nice legs!

Daniel and I went to the Highline, because that is the thing to do. Daniel has complained about his legs to me in the past, saying that they are so pale he hates to wear shorts. But he is wearing shorts in this picture, some white ones with blue stripes. Daniel actually has the best legs I've seen this summer, and I hope he continues to wear shorts. (Update: while he was observing the Pride Parade yesterday, someone handed Daniel a sticker that read "nice legs!" Really, gays? A sticker, even?)



How is it that some fellows have amazing musculature without even working out? I, on the other hand, pump iron mercilessly almost every day, and still am considered a "hard gainer" by the trainers at NYSC. I wish I had Daniel's figure, but I must make due with my African and Dutch genes, forever storing fat for an apocalypse that surely has already come.



After we disembarked from the Highline, we went to meet up with Johnathan and Christina for the "Joan Rivers: A Piece of Work" documentary in Chelsea, at which I laughed my head off. On the way there, we passed a blind albino, walking slowly with a cane. A blind albino! Isn't that just God saying "f*ck you?"

Cherita and Yolanda

It was Cherita's birthday last week, and Yolanda and I took her out to dinner last night to celebrate. For the last ten years or so, whenever it's Cherita's, Yolanda's, or my birthday, we go out and have dinner, just the three of us. I wish one of us was a documentary filmmaker, as that would be an interesting movie - a yearly look at the lives, loves, and outfits of three college friends who are a little too into clothing.


Yolanda, of course, is the most stylish of us - she dresses people for a living, and just finished up years of work as a stylist on the t.v. series "Ugly Betty." She's starting work on a movie in July. In my recent marathon session of apartment cleaning, I dug up the debut issue of Black Hairstyles and Trends, the magazine she worked at for a minute in the mid-90s. I'm so sentimental - I couldn't bring myself to throw it away, even now. I'm sure even she doesn't own that issue now. Maybe I have a hoarding problem. Last night, Yolanda told us about the fellow she's been dating, and I was struck, as usual, about how quiet she can be. We probably would never have heard about this major change in her life if we hadn't asked! I wish I wasn't so loud-mouthed - I feel like I drown out my friends sometimes.



Cherita's outfits are the most idiosyncratic of the three of us - to me, she often seems like she's planning ahead for grandmotherhood - or senility. She had just come from an extended trip to Los Angeles, where she liked one guy and dated another. I can totally relate to that kind of trip, Cherita.


Yolanda called me "skinny minny," but in reality I've gained back most of the weight I lost this year. I'm going to stop eating chocolate during the day, that's what I'm going to do.

I took this picture as we were walking away from Hill Country. Thanks, ribs!

MARY reading

I did a reading for MARY Literary at KGB Bar this past Sunday. I read my story "Here's what happens at the movies," and I wore a t-shirt with a bunch of birds on it. I bought the shirt years ago from Urban Outfitters, but it's hard to wear, so I don't wear it often. Look how horrible I look in this photo! Whenever I see pictures of myself, I usually think, "m-m-m-monster!" Really, is this how I look? Well, at least my biceps are poppin'. Some of William's entourage was there - including Aaron and William's mysterious boyfriend. (I recently used a mental image of William's boyfriend when I needed help "finishing up," but then I was overcome with feelings of shame). I came to the reading with one fellow who I have romantic feelings for, but which it probably won't work out with. Teresa says you can't sleep with a friend and have it still be romantic. Then it's just lust. Bah! I'll settle for lust, Teresa!

At the reading, Teresa and Vanessa sat together. Johnathan sat with Sloane. Matt's hot girlfriend Josie was there, too, and the amazing writer Pete Pavia. I don't know who took this photo - it was either Oscar or Paolo. I noted with interest that, although I read a story about pedophilia, the audience was still with me 100% when I finished. I seem to have really found my niche.