Are flip-flops considered hot shoes?
At A-list hot spot (do I work at a celeb mag or what?) Bar Pitti on Friday, Lauren Hutton swooshed past me as she headed for a taxi on Sixth Avenue. Here's the the thing with Lauren Hutton: She's a mutant. Her hair was up and disheveled, her clothes were loose-fitting and a little wrinkled, she was wearing a random backpack, and her shoes were this glaring neon chartreuse color.
She looked amazing.
Lauren Hutton is one of those dazzling women who has fairies swirling around her head, sprinkling Pretty Dust about her person. And then she has her own effortless style, independent of the fairies, that I covet. I moved a little closer to her with the hopes of catching some of that Pretty Dust, and I'm proud to say that my hair held up for an hour longer than usual in the afternoon heat.
Those who know me know I do adore a good celeb-sighting, as I am a certified starfucker. I hadn't seen anybody (to my knowledge) in years. When my friend Rebecca (another effortlessly beautiful person) arrived for lunch, we were seated at a table diagonal from Wes Anderson. A twofer! And later that day, in front of the Union Square cinema, I walked past Stephanie March from Law & Order: SVU. I always thought she was pretty in an actressy way, but my gawd, I've never seen such luminous skin on a human being. She's breathtaking.
It was an absolutely lovely day. Rebecca and I stopped for ice cream and walked from the West Village toward SoHo. We turned onto (I think it was) Sullivan Street and came across a festival. As we approached, we saw sand-filled rectangular pits and realized people were playing boules to celebrate Bastille Day. A couple hundred people were sipping champagne and chatting, playing games.
Yet another I Heart NY moment.
On Saturday, I met up with Also Effortlessly Beautiful Lisa
at the Grand Army Plaza farmer's market so we could find inspirational fruit for the ice cream we planned to make that day. I wish I loved to cook, because nothing makes you appreciate good food more than a farmer's market. And honestly, it's peach season, and that's just so nice. Anyway, since I'm a freak with my camera now, I couldn't take enough pictures. Also, gooseberries look like tiny little watermelons, but they taste like sour ass.
I wish I could say Lisa and I made the greatest peach-blueberry ice cream south of Boston, but my brain had apparently removed itself from my head and it hadn't occurred to me to freeze the insert on my ice cream maker. (What the hell is the plug for, anyway?) So we're planning a rematch on Tuesday. The asskicker? Yesterday was National Ice Cream Day. Jeebus.
Rumor has it that tomorrow morning, a TV show is visiting our office to tape a segment on summer office wear. I could sit here and moan about how I let last summer's body go to pot or that I completely wussed out of buying some hot shoes today because it was 508 degrees outside. Instead, I'm going to sift through my closet and spend the next hour looking for an ensemble that will make me look effortlessly Lauren Hutton-ish oh who am I kidding. If I look like shit, they won't film me. That's the plan.
She looked amazing.
Lauren Hutton is one of those dazzling women who has fairies swirling around her head, sprinkling Pretty Dust about her person. And then she has her own effortless style, independent of the fairies, that I covet. I moved a little closer to her with the hopes of catching some of that Pretty Dust, and I'm proud to say that my hair held up for an hour longer than usual in the afternoon heat.
Those who know me know I do adore a good celeb-sighting, as I am a certified starfucker. I hadn't seen anybody (to my knowledge) in years. When my friend Rebecca (another effortlessly beautiful person) arrived for lunch, we were seated at a table diagonal from Wes Anderson. A twofer! And later that day, in front of the Union Square cinema, I walked past Stephanie March from Law & Order: SVU. I always thought she was pretty in an actressy way, but my gawd, I've never seen such luminous skin on a human being. She's breathtaking.
It was an absolutely lovely day. Rebecca and I stopped for ice cream and walked from the West Village toward SoHo. We turned onto (I think it was) Sullivan Street and came across a festival. As we approached, we saw sand-filled rectangular pits and realized people were playing boules to celebrate Bastille Day. A couple hundred people were sipping champagne and chatting, playing games.
Yet another I Heart NY moment.
On Saturday, I met up with Also Effortlessly Beautiful Lisa
at the Grand Army Plaza farmer's market so we could find inspirational fruit for the ice cream we planned to make that day. I wish I loved to cook, because nothing makes you appreciate good food more than a farmer's market. And honestly, it's peach season, and that's just so nice. Anyway, since I'm a freak with my camera now, I couldn't take enough pictures. Also, gooseberries look like tiny little watermelons, but they taste like sour ass.
I wish I could say Lisa and I made the greatest peach-blueberry ice cream south of Boston, but my brain had apparently removed itself from my head and it hadn't occurred to me to freeze the insert on my ice cream maker. (What the hell is the plug for, anyway?) So we're planning a rematch on Tuesday. The asskicker? Yesterday was National Ice Cream Day. Jeebus.
Rumor has it that tomorrow morning, a TV show is visiting our office to tape a segment on summer office wear. I could sit here and moan about how I let last summer's body go to pot or that I completely wussed out of buying some hot shoes today because it was 508 degrees outside. Instead, I'm going to sift through my closet and spend the next hour looking for an ensemble that will make me look effortlessly Lauren Hutton-ish oh who am I kidding. If I look like shit, they won't film me. That's the plan.
Labels: food, friends, New York, photos, pop culture, weight, work
posted by Marla at 11:29 PM
1 Comments:
So last night we watched "The 40 Year-Old Virgin." It was my first time... watching the movie I mean... and noticed in the credits one Marla Garlin. And a character was named Marla as well! Looked Marla Garlin up on imdb and saw that she was the casting director. Her job is, basically, to starfuck. What are the chances there'd be 2 of you out there?
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