Renoir, Impressionism, and Full-Length Painting will be on display at The Frick from February 7, through May 13, 2012.
The exhibition is based on The Promenade and will include Dance in the City and Dance in the Country (1882–83) from the Musée d’Orsay, Paris, The Umbrellas (1881 and 1885) from The National Gallery, London, Dance at Bougival (1882–83) from the Museum of Fine Arts, Boston.
These are honestly not my favorite Renoirs, but certainly worth checking out.
I’m hardly prepared for 2012. Like every year, I have a couple lessons to share…
A man tells you who he is unwittingly. He says he’s cheated in the past. You see that he spends money beyond his means. Always take note of your initial impressions and don’t sugar coat the truth because you like him.
I learned this one from a French girl…and then from an Irishman.
If you outline your most sincere goals, and spend 30 minutes a day toward their fruition, you will be astounded by the progress after just a couple of months, and find sincere gratification.
Work where you feel respected. Date men who give you what you want. Live where you feel comfortable. You’re worth the very best.
Unable to move past a breakup, I read Dr. Helen Fisher’s studies on the way your brain functions in love. It’s an addiction, not unlike a dependance on cocaine.
It’s not easy, but if you set your standards and put them into practice, it is possible to have a relationship that is 50-50.
If you put away 10% of every check you receive, you’ll be surprised by how much you have at the end of the year.
I spent $500 on those Tory Burch boots that I won’t shut up about, only to find out that they had been on sale three months early. So the next month I went to a vintage store and bought a whole bunch of “new used” designer shirts. I felt much better.
Buy flowers every few weeks to give your apartment a fresh look and feel, try to make your bed in the morning, find a creamy body lotion that smells delicious through out the day. These things make life worth living.
Many of the things that you want, may only be because people expect it from you. Consider what activities in your life make you happy, no matter how trivial, and what makes you indifferent – or even miserable.
The good thing is “hot” is very manipulable and doesn’t have to be skanky. (we’ll discuss this in detail later.)
It’s taken me three years to accept it. But I finally decree that it doesn’t matter as long as everyone is comfortable.
I set this deliciously light honey blossom lotion at my desk in order to keep my chapped hands and elbows moisturized in the winter weather. The vintage bottle is so unique and calls attention, and now everyone asks if they can use it. Pair it with Pure & Good Hand Soup if you’re furnishing your bathroom.
2. 2012 Weekly/ Monthly planner by Pocket Squares
$20
I almost don’t want to share these, they are so adorable. Each journal is made to your order. The pages feature unique quotes from our favorite writers like Roald Dahl, Gertrude Stein, and F. Scott Fitzgerald. I ordered mine with a brown paper cover and decorated it with Parisian vintage stamps (of course.)
3. Cat Deer Holiday Cards by Noiseemade
$20 for ten
These illustrations win the “Most Adorable Holiday Card Contest.” My order featured a kitten dressed with a reindeer cap (adorable!!!) The customized package was promptly delivered, arrived wrapped in brown paper with string, and with a few extra few things generously included.
4. Chrysanthemum
What a beautiful winter flower to brighten our somber winter days. In Victorian flower etiquette, white chrysanthemum symbolizes truth and loyal love. Give your lover a red chrysanthemum to convey true amour.
Bee and Chrysanthemum by Katsushika Hokusai
5. Manet
Dejeuner sur l’herbe Print
$50
I used to hate Manet. How dare he paint such crude figures that sit so disproportionally in their settings. How dare he play with context and meaning, and set nude figures in public places! Who does he think he is, tampering with Titian and Michelangelo. And then I feel in love with Mlle. Victorine’s gaze. I learned to stop searching for meaning and settling into the experience of art.
6. Fortstye Saga
By no means is this a new series, but who doesn’t love a BBC Victorian drama that is just as risque as a modern day soap opera. Perfect for lonely nights, enjoy with marshmallows and tea.
Enjoy unlimited use of the locker rooms, steam room, several saunas, ice bath, lounge, and restaurant. The upstairs facility included a huge pool and jacuzzi. There are also a number of moderately priced treatments for an additional cost.
To be honest, I was creeped out by this place. Too many hairy fat men in the jacuzzi and nearly nude Russian girls chatting in the steam rooms. Swimming suits are required — thank god — but buff men still bathed themselves with soap in the sauna…
I’m the spoiled spa type, but you may like it if you are a man unaccustomed to bathing facilities.
Currently, Bloomspot has a great $25 for two voucher. Go with a buddy if you’re not grossed out by hairy men. There are also a lot of fit Russian girls chatting about in their bikinis.
Wall Street Spa & Bath 88
…and that begins with taking care of my body.
The abuse my liver has suffered these past few months is written all over my face … dehydration, fatigue, stress, and too many marshmallows…
So opened I a membership at Reebok Sports Club.
Sporting Clubs are not cheap expenses, but when joining a facility, look for December specials.
The club features TVs on the cardio equipment, a huge rock climbing wall, a full Pilates studio, two basketball courts, and a unisex jacuzzi, sauna, and steam room (my favorite).
It’s encouraging to work out in a beautiful facility amongst hardworking people.
We all can use a little work on our self-esteem, so throughout the year I will share the secrets I find throughout the City…
…and of course share the indecent anecdotes you all love so much
the negro you once heard your great aunt sneer about under her breath,
yet upon our introduction, you realize that there isn’t much difference between the two of us, except perhaps the amazingness of our lips, the pleasing complexion of our skin, which does not impair the eye with its pale vulnerability, and how love making comes more easy to us than music.
If one more Republican motherfucker chases after me, I’m going to scream.
I think they are the worst. I would say it’s the repressed guilt,
but then why would they want to cheat on their perfect girlfriends?
History cannot help but repeat itself.
Classé dans New York.
You don’t need to spend $2,500 on a tiny studio apartment. If you’re visiting friends outside of Manhattan, it’s not necessary to spend $200 on a private vehicle to pick you up.
I see it all so clearly, and yet, I’m the worst kind of “new” New Yorker.
It’s been four months and I’m already equipped with my:
Classé dans New York.
Just look at them. Go ahead.
A pair of tall glistening leather equestrian boots with an elegant little golden logo that gleams glamor at the ankle. Classy. Sexy. Sophisticated.
$500.
Monday through Friday I’ve been getting up at 7:30 AM to do admin work at an office off Times Square. Then on the weekends I pass out menus at a restaurant. It’s not glamorous, but it’s the sort of thing a college student has to do if she wants to get established. These boots — these boots are what get me through the day. Whenever things start to get rough, I close my eyes and imagine myself strutting down Madison Ave with the wind blowing through my hair, Jimi Hendrix’s Foxy Lady playing in the background and men in suits straining their necks to say “Damn, look at that hot chick in those sexy ass Tory. Burch. Boots“.
The funny thing is, I’d never even heard of Tory Burch before I arrived to Manhattan.
You see, this is what New York does to you. Even in Paris, I was perfectly content with my kitten heal leather boots from Clarks. They were sharp. Sensible. They kept my feet in style in the fall, warm in the winters, and dry in the spring.
Now, screw Clarks. My grandpa wears Clarks, I want Tory Burch.
In the Wealth of Nations, Adam Smith wrote that social pressure delegates how much we decide to spend. We’ll purchase anything to avoid feeling embarrassed by our lack of it — even when it’s beyond our means.
So what do I want to purchase? A pair of beautiful boots? Or a stamp of approval that says I’m worth something? And if that’s the case, does that mean I don’t feel like I’m worth something?
I know, I know, the whole thing is so shallow. I’m a smart cookie, I know what’s going on here….
…But I also know that’s gonna feel damn good when those snotty little fashionistas’ heads snap into place to gaze at my shiny legs or when I hear gay men mutter to each other, “Damn, look at that girl’s boots.”Ahhh.
I promise, after this purchase I’ll focus on a savings plan or figure out what I’m going to do with my life or work on my film or something and not have anymore of these unreasonable splurges…
(I mean that is right after I get a Longchamp tote to carry my schoolbooks)
Just a couple more weeks of answering phones…
Classé dans New York.
And it’s different from what I’d ever imagine for myself.
Since I moved to New York, I feel like I’ve been thrust into a real life that twists, turns, and suddenly those sorts of inordinate things that I normally count on for stability don’t matter so much.
“I fall sometimes,” was one of the first things that I told him about myself. “Not very often, but sometimes,” I twisted my face into a wince that only drunkeness can educe. He looked back at me with penetrating scrutiny, but his expression remained still. “That’s fine. I can catch you.”
And that’s how it started.
It’s funny, those other inordinate things that I used to talk about so much –education, height, family, bank account — none of those things replace presence. Those inordinate things are illusions for security; they mean very little if a man is not there in his head or in his heart.
Classé dans New York.
This week I worked like a dog.
Really, it’s been 56 hours of none stop work Sunday through Friday. Two jobs + school. I’m exhausted. I thought I was playing well ahead of the game.
Turns out I’m right on schedule.
There is one thing I won’t deal with — bullshit. Literally, I just don’t have time to concern myself with it. I don’t have time to be blown off, to feel hurt, or to be second in line to some other bitch. Wanting simple things – a spontaneous text message, a response to my e-mail, and a few hours together in central park on a Saturday afternoon – those things aren’t very much. So please, please don’t waste my time by denying those basic treasures.
I just work way too fucking hard to feel like crap at the end of the day.
Classé dans New York.
