Things to do in Manhattan this Spring.

Spring is not lovely because of the Yankee games…

C’est les cuisses.

(It’s your thighs.)

It is time for men to feast their eyes upon bare knees and thighs, so you better start tanning…

Cuisse – friendly activities in Manhattan

1. Cross your legs at the Soho International Film Festival. At the reception, eye flirt with curly-haired French directors (hate on Godard, they’ll love it).

2. Jog through Battery Park. No, don’t wear those lazy pink VS sweatpants! Wear your jogging shorts and your cute sweater (so many hot Financial-District guys down there).

3. It’s still a bit windy, so grab a cute pair of undies on sale at La Petite Coquette, in case your skirt flies up as you descend into the MTA. (It happens to all of us).

4. Enjoy a bare-legged picnic in Washington Square after studying for finals at Bobst NYU Library (brown bag the twist-cap champagne, apparently you remember things better with liquor).

5. Strut over to Beacon’s Closet and update your wardrobe for the spring. (I bought 6 work and play dresses for $150).

La coquette milieu des hommes.

I went out dancing with a bunch of guy friends the other day.

As the token lady, I took it up on myself to make sure everyone had fun.

The tallest one, a med student, needed the most attention, so I gave him a prep speech, told him he was worth it, spotted a hot lonely brunette, and we went in for the kill.

From our faces, she could tell that we were up to something suspicious, and so she gestured to her friend – a tall, dark-haired mec.

“I’ll distract him, you distract her!”

I shouted above the music, and we each made our moves.

It was easy to slide over to the handsome homme and introduce myself….“salut”

…My buddy, on the other hand, lurked two feet behind the brunette, giving off a creepy vibe that freaked us all out.

-Take Two-

We tried a different chick, another thin brunette standing with her friend. I could tell they wanted attention because they kept eye flirting with guys.

(They probably don’t know about la dance d’amour)

This time we took a team approach: me casually at the front, him gradually from behind.

And of course, with his lurking creepiness, he freaked her out and she gravitated toward me.

“I think I may have a girl crush on you,” she yelled to me drunkly.

I stopped.

Noted her tiny hips tucked snugly into black pants,

her peep toe platform Jimmy Chou pumps,

the gold chain of her Chanel purse wrapped slender shoulder…

And I thought…Damn, I may have a girl crush too.

La Vrai New Yorkais.

New Yorkers don’t realize that there is a more reasonable way to live….

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:

1. A tiny apartment complete with malfunctioning cookware and Chinese roommates.
2. An obligatory pair of Tory Burch shoes.
3. Three x-boyfriends who live within a 5 mile radius (and yet I never see them!)
4. $500 in season hair style (Black people multiply our hair care expenses by 98 % … )
5. Regular mani-pedi found on Groupon.
6. A newly discovered adoration for Proust.
7. An escalated tolerance to whiskey and vodka (nowadays, I have to settle for tequila)
8. A pretty damn good rotation.
9. And two jobs to pay for it all.

La mode.

I’m in love with a pair of Tory Burch boots.

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…

La jupe courte noire…

Let me tell you guys a little secret. 

Candescently… I look rough. 

This evening I took off my make up and I looked at my face.

Recently, I burned head with a curling iron and there’s an awful brown blemish across my forehead. The bags under my eyes betray the late night drinking binges. My visage is gaunt and pale from the cloudy NY weather. Worst of all, this Saturday morning I work up with A Terrible Stye under my left eye!

And honestly…I haven’t looked this good in years. 

Of course, it doesn’t come that easy. Girls know we have our routines. We shower, shave, apply concealer, flat iron, foundation, blush, mascara, pencil, blush, wardrobe….

And then VAAA-DAAAAA-BAAAAAAAAM!

HOT VIDEO VIXEN.

But, I didn’t have time for that make up crap tonight. There’s just too much going on. Who am I trying to impress running through The City after three job interviews, a full day of classes, last minute homework, grocery shopping yet no real food, gay men in the elevator, and then lots of laundry?

So as I said I took off my make up early. I read for class assignments. I prepared for work. I balanced my check book (ha ha, not really). And then I said fuck it, slipped on my little black skirt, and went out for a drink……..without make up.

What’s funny? It didn’t matter. Even with the terrible scar across my forehead and the bags and The Stye! The same men still flirted. The same men still didn’t care… And so I ask myself…

Do men not really care about all that make up and loveliness?

I got it. You know what it comes down to?

The short black skirt.

Le bohémien sensuel.

17 year old Skye Ferreira was featured in Wardrobe Chic this week at Elle. I’m jealous of how she can be so young and so cool (and featured on Elle). Check out her long prairie dresses and those sexy little shorts.