Tuesday, September 30, 2008

Iron-Jawed Angels In Lovely Hats and Dresses


I am certain that there are those of you out there who are convinced that I have been turned into a shrieking harpy by this election season--



Now, where was I? Oh, politics. Mon bien-aimé lectrices (you gentlemen are included, too), please do take a moment to read this piece, which was sent to me this morning by a dear friend. It concerns Women And the Vote.



This is the story of our Grandmothers and Great-grandmothers; they lived only 90 years ago. Remember, it was not until 1920 that women were granted the right to go to the polls and vote.

The women were defenseless, but they were jailed nonetheless for picketing the White House, carrying signs asking for the vote.

Lucy Burns
And by the end of the night, they were barely alive. Forty prison guards wielding clubs and their warden's blessing went on a rampage against the 33 women wrongly convicted of 'obstructing sidewalk traffic.' They beat Lucy Burns, chained her hands to the cell bars above her head and left her hanging for the night, bleeding and gasping for air.

Dora Lewis
They hurled Dora Lewis into a dark cell, smashed her head against an iron bed and knocked her out cold. Her cellmate, Alice Cosu, thought Lewis was dead, and suffered a heart attack. Additional affidavits describe the guards grabbing, dragging, beating, choking, slamming, pinching, twisting and kicking the women.

Thus unfolded the 'Night of Terror' on Nov. 15, 1917, when the warden at the Occoquan Workhouse in Virginia ordered his guards to teach a lesson to the suffragists imprisoned there because they dared to picket Woodrow Wilson's White House for the right to vote. For weeks, the women's only water came from an open pail. Their food--all of it colorless slop--was infested with worms.

Alice Paul
When one of the leaders, Alice Paul, embarked on a hunger strike, they tied her to a chair, forced a tube down her throat and poured liquid into her until she vomited. She was tortured like this for weeks until word was smuggled out to the press.

So, refresh my memory. Some women won't vote this year because why, exactly? We have carpool duties? We have to get to work? Our vote doesn't matter? It's raining?

Last week, I went to a sparsely attended screening of HBO's new movie 'Iron Jawed Angels.' It is a graphic depiction of the battle these women waged so that I could pull the curtain at the polling booth and have my say. It is jarring to watch Woodrow Wilson and his cronies try to persuade a psychiatrist to declare Alice Paul insane so that she could be permanently institutionalized.

And it is inspiring to watch the doctor refuse. Alice Paul was strong, he said, and brave. That didn't make her crazy. The doctor admonished the men: 'Courage in women is often mistaken for insanity.'

What would those women think of the way I use, or don't use, my right to vote? All of us take it for granted now, not just younger women, but those of us who did seek to learn.

HBO released the movie on video and DVD . I wish all history, social studies and government teachers would include the movie in their curriculum, and anywhere else women gather. I realize this isn't our usual idea of socializing, but we are not voting in the numbers that we should be, and a little shock therapy is in order.

Please, pass this on to all the women you know. We need to get out and vote and use this right that was fought so hard for by these very courageous women. Whether you vote democratic, republican or independent party - remember to vote.

History is being made.


Well! That was certainly a strong brew, wasn't it? I confess that I did not read it in its entirety, but I did admire the pretty dresses many of the women were wearing. Mon dieu, that makes me sound like an intelligent Sarah Palin. Pardonnez moi!


Elisa & Bucky the Wonderdog

Sunday, September 28, 2008

More Delectable Pieces for the Manhattan Vintage Show!


I am taking a moment from my unending work (I'm nearly hoarse from screaming at my assistant, the fool), to put up a few pictures of some more of the goodies I will have on display at the Manhattan Vintage Show on October 10th and 11th here in New York City!

First, this wonderful Gucci travel bag, with the ORIGINAL sales tag inside! As you can see, poor Bucky has also been working his little paws to the bone (mostly nipping at my assistant's ankles if she doesn't move fast enough).


Second, a vintage wool boucle' coral-colored wool coat with huge pink novelty buttons, size XL:

Third, another amazing reversible coat! This swing coat, from the 1940s, reverses from a plaid double-breasted coat to a solid bright green clutch coat! (Forgive the photos, my assistant took them.) Size M:

This vintage 1980s Michael Kors wool dress, size 4:

And to end with Gucci, this beautiful Gucci lightweight wool coat, also 1980s, with a hidden button placket and impeccable tailoring, size 42:

Remember, dahlings, save the dates!

The Manhattan Vintage Show at the Metropolitan Pavilion
125 W.18th Street, between 6th and 7th Avenues in Chelsea
New York City
Friday: 10/10 1-8 pm
Saturday: 10/11 11am-6pm
Admission: $20*

Elisa & Bucky the Wonderdog

*5 off admission if you go to the website, http://www.manhattanvintage.com/ !

Friday, September 26, 2008

I'm Featured On A Dress A Day, Dahlings!


It's raining here in New York, but my heart is full of sunshine, because I awoke to a marvelous interview with moi on the phenomenal blog A Dress A Day! (Click on the title of this blog entry to be taken to the interview. Even I have to admit I am fascinating!)

Or you can click the link on the right on the sidebar, or cut and paste this link into your browser:

There are so many lovely things listed in my shop, The Mad Fashionista's Plus Size Boutique, but I find that I have to lash my assistant to list more, because they are flying out of there since Erin's blog hit the Internet!

Many, many thanks, Erin!

Elisa & Bucky the Wonderdog

Thursday, September 25, 2008

Sarah Palin - A Man-Made Woman?


Forgive me for writing about politics, but the events of recent days have been causing me to think Deep Thoughts. Since I am not in the habit of doing so, I keep getting these blinding headaches, which are not helped by my assistant’s insistence on watching the news. I’ve ordered the fool to keep the plasma on the Style Network, but does she listen? Non!

I try not to keep up with popular culture, but it seems I remember a movie some years ago about two teenage boys who concocted a machine that would create their “perfect woman.” It was called Beard Science or some such. Of course I’ve never seen it, but the premise does stick with one.

Particularly when watching Governor Sarah Palin delicately tip-toeing through this God-awful campaign, trying to say as little as possible (at least when there are no teleprompters around). Today she made the news in two significant moments:

The Prime Minister of Pakistan proclaimed she was “gorgeous”.

And she managed to answer a whole four questions from a small group of reporters. Oh, my! Very good, Sarah dear! Most of it was the usual la-di-da about September 11 (I apologize, but when you live here, it does become a wee bit tiresome having one of your greatest local tragedies turned into a device that can be pulled out like a secret decoder ring whenever a politician feels threatened).

This woman may soon have the second-highest position in the United States government, and she is even less prepared for it than Flava-Flav.

One might say that Sarah Palin does represent the hockey moms of America (not that I know any personally), because if you walked up to one at Mall of America and asked them to give a substantive answer to a question about the House Financial Services Committee, they would probably give you a blank stare and respond, “Huh?” Dans la stupidité qu'il y ait unite, if you don’t mind my saying so.

Obviously Palin was chosen because of her ex-beauty queen good looks, her ability to act (she was a weather girl or sportscaster or some sort of broadcast bottom-feeder), and her ability to walk across a wide stage looking resolute. She is the tabloid audience's dream of a female politician, capable of baking cookies with one hand and slaughtering moose with the other. Not like Hillary, who kept insisting on being well-informed.

For gravitas, Palin wears unneeded glasses and keeps her long hair piled up (the unconscious suggestion being to the viewer that she could be on “Female Politicos Gone Wild” if she took it down). If she does not become the Vice President, Palin would make an ideal morning show style reporter.

Only men could have thought up a woman this perfect.


As long as she doesn’t say anything. That is, anything former Bush speechwriter Matthew Scully hasn’t written for her.

Oh, dear, I must go take some aspirin and lie down with a copy of Marie-Claire. This has been simply too much for moi.

Elisa & Bucky the Wonderdog

* "Vogue" cover courtesy of Salon.com

Tuesday, September 23, 2008

It's SALE Time At Specialist Auctions!


Get ready for shopping madness, because there will be a massive sale on the Specialist Auctions site from October 1 - October 17, where all items with SASA in the title will be $30 or under! Besides my wonderful shop, there are many other marvelous shops there full of wonderful things.

Some pieces that will be specially marked down are--

This beautiful 1960s yellow swing coat with trapunto stitching by Youthcraft, size Small:


An entrancing reversible print 1950s raincoat that reserves to black satin, with matching buttons on each side:


A vintage 1980s real coral, mother of pearl bead and gold-filled bead choker necklace:


This mint condition Koratron navy blue raincoat, size XL:


So mark the date on your calendars, dahlings, and on October 1, get ready to shop!

Elisa & Bucky the Wonderdog

Thursday, September 18, 2008

Governor Sarah Palin--Bucky Wants You To Read This!

Dahlings -

I do try to steer away from politics, but I simply had to share this with you. I've seen the advertisement referenced, and I urge anyone who loves animals to take immediate action! Those of you who enjoy hunting, please do not send in your comments...they will be immediately deleted. Nothing personal, but yours truly feels that certain kinds of arguments belong only in the areas of hemlines and lipstick colors, no reference intended.


Tell Everyone You Know About Governor Palin's Brutal Record
Our hard-hitting TV ad is running in key swing states right now.
Tell others about Governor Palin’s wolf killing record and help us reach even more voters today.

Thanks to the unprecedented support of more than 14,000 donors, our ad is on the air in Ohio and Florida where millions of voters are learning more about vice presidential candidate Sarah Palin’s values -- and her brutal record on aerial hunting of wolves and other wildlife.Encourage your friends to watch the ad online and help us reach even more people with the awful truth about Governor Sarah Palin’s brutal record aerial wolf hunting.

With your help, we’re breaking this story wide open. This hard-hitting TV ad has already been seen by nearly 300,000 people online. It’s been covered by many news outlets, including CNN, ABC, MSNBC, The Wall Street Journal, The LA Times, several Ohio newspapers and more. And thanks to the generous donations of people like you, millions of people in Ohio and Florida know the truth about Governor Palin’s brutal record. Now, thanks to the phenomenal contributions of wildlife supporters like you, we’ll be able to extend our TV ad buy in Ohio and Florida, air it in Michigan -- and beyond.You can help us reach even more potential voters online. Help spread the word about Governor Palin’s support for aerial killing of wolves and other wildlife. The more voters learn about Governor Sarah Palin, the less there is to like.

Nearly 300,000 people have watched our ad on YouTube. Here's what some viewers are saying:
"Shooting animals from an airplane is as low as it can get. I take that back, offering $150 for each paw is even worse. "-- utubewtch
r"I'm an independent voter - when I heard about Palin's support of aerial wolf killing, I knew right off that 'she's definitely NOT like me'."-- 33tracker

But as you can imagine, running a TV ad during election season is expensive. There are still millions of potential voters across the U.S. who haven’t learned the truth about Governor Palin’s brutal aerial hunting program -- millions who don’t yet know about her proposal to dole out $150 for the severed forelegs of dead wolves.Help us expose the awful truth about Sarah Palin before it’s too late. Tell others about Governor Sarah Palin’s record on the brutal and unethical hunting of wolves from airplanes.With your help, we can ensure that voters know the truth about Sarah Palin.

With Gratitude,
Rodger Schlickeisen
Defenders of Wildlife Action Fund

P.S. Right now, my team is preparing another powerful TV ad to air in key swing states. To help us reach more voters with the ad above and place our new ad, please make a secure online contribution now. Or call 1-800-425-4632 to contribute by phone.
Privacy Policy Contact Us Donate Now Defenders of Wildlife Action Fund Home

© Copyright 2008, Defenders of Wildlife Action Fund
Defenders of Wildlife Action Fund provides a powerful voice in Washington to Americans who value our conservation heritage. Through grassroots lobbying, issue advocacy and political campaigns, the Action Fund champions those laws and lawmakers that protect wildlife and wild places while working against those that do them harm.
Defenders of Wildlife Action Fund can be contacted at: 1130 17th Street, NWWashington, DC 20036

Wednesday, September 17, 2008

I Am Returning To The Manhattan Vintage Show!


Brace yourselves! There is exciting news today!


Stupéfier, non? Yes, your faithful correspondent is happy to announce that she is once again working alongside MATINEE NEW YORK, the premiere source of men's and women's vintage clothing supplied to the film and theater industry, and owner of one of the largest collections of men’s vintage in the known universe. Of course, I only associate with the best people.

But you knew that. That’s why you are reading this on the Internet instead of lounging in my sitting room.

Be that as it may:

Racks and display tables shall be bulging with my mâchoire-chute beau PLUS-SIZE vintage, from the 1930s to the 1980s! Through hours of ceaseless toil (well, my assistant’s ceaseless toil, anyway) the finest of my collection has been chosen and readied for your delectation. And not only clothing, but jewelry and accessories!

Here is just a tiny taste of what is in store!

Going back into the past to the 1920s, feast your eyes on this pure silk jet-black flapper dress of charmeuse and velvet, with the original jet buttons, size XXXL!

This sophisticated 1950s plunge-neck black wool suit, with its perfect v-neck mink collar, XL!

And now that the 80s are again becoming popular, this probably Victor Costa green velvet and crepe pleated sleeve long gown! Size 18:

As for accessories, here are three compacts, including one by Limoges:

I shall continue these previews right up until the big day, dahlings! And I hope to see you there!

The Manhattan Vintage Show
at the Metropolitan Pavilion
125 W.18th Street, between 6th and 7th Avenues in Chelsea
New York City

Friday: 10/10 1-8 pm
Saturday: 10/11 11am-6pm
Admission: $20*

I shall continue to tease you with more lovelies to come!

Elisa & Bucky The Wonderdog

* However, if you go to www.manhattanvintage.com, you can click on a link to save $5 off admission. But don't let anyone know you heard it from moi.

Sunday, September 14, 2008

Fashion Week 2009 Wrap Up, Dahlings!


I am simply wrung out, exhausted, barely able to move. I am dictating this blog-thing to my assistant while getting a foot message and pedicure (there is another masseuse giving Bucky a full-body message…the poor little dog had been banged around in so many different bags by frantic crowds! I do hope she remembers to put a muzzle on my darling before she paints his nails).

Because of my extreme weariness I shall simply give some thumbnail descriptions of various shows I visited during the past week. First of all, Diane von Furstenberg’s show was delightful, the dresses flowing, airy and comfortable. And many of the models were SMILING! Mon dieu! How refreshing! (Methinks Diane has found a man to have sex with, unlike her husband?) DVF even created a way to conceal Coco Rocha:

Brava, Diva!

As regular readers know, Marc Jacobs is not one of my favorite designers. However, one must reluctantly admit that his collection was…yes, I can say it…marvelous. Over the top, colorful, but so well-edited and with a sense of humor. It was at the Armory, and actually started on time! Last time spectators had to wait hours, and then MJ went ballistic, as they say, in the newspapers no less. One must do some reconsidering.

I am not usually a woman who is wrong, but in this case, I won’t say I have been wrong, but I will say that I have reconsidered. It was one of the best collections of the week. Cathy Horyn of the New York Times mentioned, that in this year of women in elections, perhaps some of Jacobs’s outfits were referencing turn-of-the-century suffragettes. Of that, I can only approve. And Cathy is simply one of the best, if not the best, fashion interpreters out there today.

Out of sheer curiosity, I would have gone to Michael Kors’s show, but participating in the New York Reality Television School the night before (how ironic!) left me reluctant to leave my bed until the Oscar de le Renta show.

And of course, your faithful correspondent was in the front row, across from the luminous Jennifer Lopez, who for some reason was wearing a black strapless ball gown for early afternoon (I mean, there are photo ops and there are photo ops, but really.) and Rachel Zoe. About the latter, my lips are sealed, friend-snatcher. Of course I wore Oscar from head to foot (well, not foot, because I have to have my shoes custom made, but I had managed to color coordinate my stilettos). So that I wouldn’t look too—I despise the phrase—“matchy matchy”, I carried a Louis Vuitton carrier for Bucky and a bright yellow Toblerone, extra large. One of those bars can get one through an entire day, provided one also brings a Red Bull or two. Yes, I do get a bit snappish at times—


Ahem. Je ne souffrent pas des imbéciles heureux.

Absolutely beautiful, dahlings. One can always count on Oscar to deliver the goods.
And while we are at it, compare Oscar's swimsuit to Yigal's

Francisco Costa’s collection for Calvin Klein seemed a wee bit bizarre to your faithful correspondent, but he was going for an “architectural” look. For those of you who criticize moi for suggesting many of the models might have Cyclic Vomiting Syndrome, Serena Williams and Tyra Banks were in the audience… what a relief to see “real” women!

Christian Siriano executed a marvelous collection. He is truly growing as a designer, even though he’s almost as small in person as Bucky. (Seeing him stand next to my ex-friend Andre Leon Talley is seeing Mutt and Jeff personified, pardon the antique reference.)

As for the Project Runway show, my lips are sealed. You’ll simply have to wait, dahlings.


Elisa & Bucky the Wonderdog

Thursday, September 11, 2008

Fatigue Sets In At Fashion Week 2009...


Because of my evening at the New York Reality Television School, I missed the ho-hum Halston collection. No great loss, as my friends at the Bryant Park Hotel told me when I stopped by the Zimmerman Spring Preview.

But I did manage to take in three earlier shows (although how anyone expects an important, busy woman to get up at dawn to attend a 9 AM collection, no matter by whom, baffles me).

Speaking of ho-hum, my day started with the Monique Lhuillier show in the promenade. Maybe it was fashion fatigue setting in, but this collection seemed dull, derivative and uninspired, even if many of the fabrics were lovely. This poor model was absolutely wall-eyed with exhaustion and hunger.

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As she passed , I was nibbling on a chocolate croissant, and for a second I feared she was going to attack me, as Natasha Poly had a few seasons back. Fortunately, as always during Fashion Week, there were paramedics stationed at perimeter points armed with Ensure, cigarettes, and crystal meth.

But back on topic, haven’t you seen varations of this dress in catalogs a hundred times?

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Next, it was over to the Betsey Johnson show, where I was quite pleasantly surprised. Ms. Johnson and I do not have the same style sense by any means. But this collection was a delightful campy romp, and there were giant cupcakes for all of us in the front row! The big-little-girl dresses and adorable wigs brought back strong memories of my childhood. Particularly since dear, darling Mama forced me to pretend to be eleven years old for ten years.

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As Maurice Chevalier sang, "Ah, yes, I remember it well." By the time she allowed me to turn twelve, I was far more zaftig than any of these models, I can tell you that. Ms. Johnson herself astonished me by coming out looking quite chic before she did her trademark cartwheel.

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The final show I had time to attend was Dennis Basso, who obviously does not believe personally in the gaunt aesthetic he promotes. Basso profundo, indeed! More like Basso gigundo.

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My idol Anna Wintour was in attendance, as was Nina Garcia of "Project Runway," and a galaxy of socialites. Basso's clothes were lovely, but could any model have looked more miserable than Cecilia Mendez?

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It made for a bit of cognitive dissonance. However, I made a note to order this stunner for myself. Imagine it with a real body inside!

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Oh, damn, I hear whining from the bedroom, and Bucky is curled up at my feet. It must be my assistant. She gets SO confused at the simplest instructions; all she has to do is lay out my five outfits for tomorrow, with matching shoes and jewelry! Is that so very much to ask?

Must dash –

Elisa & Bucky the Wonderdog

Wednesday, September 10, 2008

Imitation of Life At The NY Television Reality School


My apologies, I know that you are all wondering why there has not been a recent report from the Bryant Park tents. “Where are you?” some have emailed. “Fashion Week is simply a waste of time without your periscope to gaze at it through.” Flattery will get you everywhere, as the saying goes.

The title is a reference to a movie that starred my dear, dead friend Lana Turner. I've never had the heart to tell her I think it's a terrible remake of the original Claudette Colbert version made in the 1930s. Lana does not take criticism well.

However, if I had a nickel for every time someone said, “Your life should be on television”…I’d be as rich as I am now, which is fabulously rich. In the same spirit of inquiry that brought my ancestors to this country (from what other country I have no idea, dear darling Mama refused to say), I decided to let a friend lead me to the New York Reality Television School.

Yes, you read that correctly. The New York Reality Television School, where hopefuls go to be taught how to relax in front of a battery of cameras, tell their stories in a concise 30 seconds, and pitch television ideas. Since I am quite used to being in front of batteries of cameras, that part held no terror for me. As for telling my story in thirty seconds…well…

The course is taught by a curly-haired whirling dervish Robert Galinsky, who reminded me of no one so much as the Russian poet Lermontov. (Look it up.) He was helped by a battery of reality television stars, such as Jose Bendersky from Animal Planet, some pert little thing from VH1, and (gasp!) a model from “Project Runway”, season four! I shall devote a later entry to our encounter…suffice to say it was fascinating, and I shall have to stop making sport of the models after this.

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Not to mention several casting directors, including the handsomely chiseled Robert Russell, and a young woman in a brown dress who claimed that working in reality television helped her promote her feminist agenda. Anything you say, dear, anything you say.

The evening was held in Chelsea in a tiny television studio, where the walls were painted an unnervingly bright shade of green (presumably what they call “green-screen green”). I dressed down for the occasion, in a tailored pants outfit and low heels, but I was still by far the tallest woman in the room. Gazing around, I saw any number of petite, pretty, interchangeable young girls with bright eyes and exposed breasts. “Well,” I told myself, “at least they have some flesh on their bones, even if it is all in their push-up bras.” After days of looking at withered runway models, it was a bit of fresh air.

The men, on the other hand, were far more diverse, ranging from the handsome to the smarmy to the terribly shy, of all heights and shapes. But isn’t that how television is?

We started by doing physical warm-up exercises, followed by dancing, which I found quite enjoyable, even if I did perspire in my silk blouse a tad. During the evening there were lectures by the television pros, but it all seemed to boil down to one essential thing: self-confidence. That, and knowing when to powder your forehead to keep it from shining under the lights.

My self-confidence has never been an issue, but I could see for many of the other students it was a major hurdle. One young man, who wants to be on “American Idol, “ sang in a sweet tenor that earned applause, and the beauteous Queen Esther, a well-known jazz singer, also belted out a number. (In the interest of honest disclosure, Queen Esther has been a customer of mine, buying my smaller dresses.) A tall Irishman, Evan, solemnly recounted his desire to be on “Law and Order,” because he had killed seventeen people already. I do hope he was joking. Later he disclosed he had a lifelong medical condition that needs constant attention, and wanted to do a reality show about his life called “When Irish Eyes Aren’t Smiling.”

When it was my turn, I was told my life sounded too much like a soap opera! Well. Opera, perhaps, GRAND opera, but not soap opera. (I should like to be played by Kiri Te Kanawa in her prime.) However, these people were hardly my peers, so I ignored them.

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Robert Galinsky’s brother Philip, an actor with the intensity of Christopher Walken mixed with Robert de Niro, did a section called “On The Grill With Phil,” where luckless contestants had to audition for television programs or be thrown off the stage. One poor woman had a complete meltdown and stormed off the stage. I do hope she gets the professional help she needs. Si vous ne pouvez pas prendre la chaleur, restez hors de la cuisine.

When it was all over, we exhausted students flopped back into our chairs for a Q & A which included several reality show producers, New York Times reporter and author Abby Ellin, author of the book “Teenage Waistland.” Many technical behind-the-scenes secrets about reality television were revealed, all fascinating. To sum up, I had a wonderful time, even if I was largely ignored in favor of the little pretty things. Ah well, as they say, that’s show biz.

However, if you think you have what it takes to star on reality television, be it “Survivor,” “The Apprentice,” or “America’s Top Skittle Player,” do take a look at The New York Reality Television School. It has a proven track record of success, and your faithful correspondent learned a great deal, which I'm not telling...you'll have to go to school for it.


As for moi, it’s back to the tents, and REAL reality! Or , what passes for it.


Elisa & Bucky the Wonderdog

P.S. Q: What is the difference between Sarah Palin and a pit bull?
A: Sarah Palin stands on her hind legs.

Monday, September 08, 2008

Fashion Week Part Three - all hail Francisco Costa!


Before I write about any more of the shows, I must tell you about last night (well, some parts of last night). My assistant was missing when I came in this evening, it's quite annoying. She was supposed to lay out my ensembles for tomorrow! She's been in a royal sulk since I informed her she was far too low-class to be seen out and about with me at Bryant Park.

But enough about my domestic troubles. After the shows, it was off to the party of parties, the grand event, the 40th anniversary of Calvin Klein!Of course I had to change in the limo, but I'm an expert at that by now. It was into, of course, a vintage Calvin long chiffon gown (you thought I would wear his vintage jeans? Quel stupide!). This gala event was exactly what your faithful correspondent needed to soothe her jangled senses. Fortunately, I was able to avoid Vincent Gallo. Don't ask me why, but I wonder why he is allowed to live.

The party was held at the High Line, three stories high on 10th Avenue, where I'm told some railroad or something used to be. There were white roses and Calvin Klein adverts everywhere, overwhelming the senses. (And the nostrils.) Our host was the sensational Francisco Costa (I might replace Andre with Francisco, if he is willing!).

If you had laid every celebrity and fashion maven end to end...you would have had what the party looked like by the time it broke up. Here's a glass of champagne to you, mon bien-aimé lecteurs, I only wish you could have been there with me.

Or maybe not.

Elisa & Bucky the Wonderdog

Fashion Week Continues--Recovering From Heartbreak

This is Miss DeCarlo’s assistant…I snuck out of here and didn’t dare come back until she left again. A girlfriend of mine over at Bryant Park said she saw this big blonde screaming in French at a huge black dude who was cowering behind Rachel Zoe. That is so my boss. Jesus wept! So, like I made sure I was outta here. She left me a ton of stuff sent from her Iphone, so I guess it’s going to be one of those nights. What a weirdo.


Genuine apologies for the interruption. My delicate nerves are unraveled, raw, indeed, flayed! Andre Leon Talley shall never darken my silk napkins again.

But to business. Before I was so rudely interrupted (and betrayed!) by Andre’s alliance with that Los Angeles trend-hound, I was about to tell you of Fashion Week on Saturday. The first show I attended was Abaete, designed by Laura Poretsky. One was so hoping to be diverted from one’s private pain by wonderful fashion. Instead, a parade of fashion oddities strutted before me. I know that vintage is in, but this made me think of men’s swimwear circa 1910. All the model needed was a large mustache to sing in a barbershop quartet.

And I am sorry, but this was simply what the young folk like to call “a hot mess,” as was much of the show.

It was simply a MONSOON outside all day, and my poor dear darling Bucky detests the rain! It is a known characteristic of miniature pinschers, along with licking their private parts when one has company.

My little dog was trembling so violently that he urinated on my Oscar de la Renta dress, so it was back to my luxurious apartment on Central Park West to change clothes and let the poor little dear stay home (after giving him a pinch of valium in his dog food). I chose a Bill Blass pants ensemble designed by Peter Som for the 2008 Pre-Fall Collection, opting for fashionable comfort over getting my legs drenched.

At least not by the rain, this time.

My return, unfortunately, coincided with the Alexander Wang show. Back down to 21st Street...I should have confined myself to the tents! Wang had declared that he was going to give us "color", and this was his version of color.

Ah, yes, tres jolie, particularly with the "Pinhead" horror movie hat on.

Your faithful correspondent should have known better than to return to Bryant Park in time for the Rock & Republic show. Why, oh, why, would they let one of those horrendously emaciated anorexic models pretend she had even a chance in Hell of looking curvaceous?

One flashes back to a childhood memory of watching Fred Astaire with dear, darling Mama at the Museum of Modern Art. I might have been an adolescent by that time, but Mama was still forcing me to pretend I was eleven years old (explained elsewhere). The thought occured to moi that having sex with Mr. Astaire might result in some very bad cuts from his razor sharp elbows and knees. Thank goodness I did not yet know about hipbones!

Until next time,

Elisa & Bucky the Wonderdog

Very Slim Pickings At Fashion Week 2009

This is Mademoiselle’s assistant, transcribing her notes from her Iphone. Yeah, there’s nothing I’d rather be doing right now after midnight on Sunday than be stuck in the office while she’s out seeing all the big celebrities and those beautiful models—what is her problem with them?? Anyway, here’s what she has sent me so far. It broke off kind of abruptly, but she says there's more.


It’s only day two of Fashion Week, and already a disturbing trend has shown itself. No, not the extreme gauntness of the models, that is a given in these times. The fleshless arms, the huge spaces between their nonexistent thighs, the gurgling of their stomachs from hunger; all commonplace. Not even the occasional fainting spell makes the jaded spectators turn their heads.

But for reasons known only to themselves, many designers are playing up the models’ resemblance to survivors of the Holocaust. For instance:

Need I say more?

It did not help that the first show I attended, all the way down on 21st Street, was the dependably depressing Yigal Azrouel, who showed this:

Marching off to the labor camp, one assumes. And really, did one need to start one’s day seeing THIS?

Give the poor thing some pencils and a tin cup, I say.

I dashed out of Nicole Miller’s show early to cunningly sneak in to the Erin Fetherston show (one is loathe to admit that one is officially banned for pelting a model with bonbons a season or two ago). As it happened, I was dressed in a stunning ensemble by Ms. Miller, and as always, had my loyal companion Bucky with me, today in an exceptionally large Gucci tote. (On the practical side, the tote has been specially lined with plastic; Bucky has been known to be unable to wait until the end of a show for his walkies.) It was a bit annoying having to watch from the back, as I usually sit in the front row. But I did not want to give away my presence before I could get a look at the collection.

Fetherston’s designs are meant to be ethereal, but look as though they had been put together from a combination of what the catalogs like to call “tissue weight” fabric (another word for faible qualité) and the kind of bizarre shiny wrapping paper one buys (not moi!) at the local dollar store.

On Saturday, I started my day with—wait a moment, that can’t be! Andre Leon Talley, my bosom friend, talking to…RACHEL ZOE? A dagger in my heart!

Later for Saturday! The traitorous rogue!

Added by me:

Elisa & Bucky the Wonderdog