Who's that dude in Nicole Miller's front row?
Reporting from Bryant Park.
I'm leaving New York fashion week and, pardon the pun, I'm a bit fashion weak. The only real meal I ate was a quick tray of sushi, Thursday afternoon when I arrived (gasp!) fifteen minutes early for the TSE show downtown.
Since no one would even be checking in until fifteen minutes after the scheduled start time, I had a full half-hour to wander around 18th street in search of a substantial bite to eat.
The show had an interesting optimistic feeling, perhaps because it was the most colorful TSE collection I could remember—rich marigold, and steely blues along with creamy olive greens. A sleeveless, belted trench for her, a cool navy hoodie for him. Or maybe I read it as optimistic because I got front row seating, since Robin didn't attend.
The seating/ranking is very important at a fashion show. In fact, the whole twenty minutes before the show—when everyone is finding their seats, sipping cocktails, mulling around looking for someone to talk to, or feverishly texting on assorted digital devices—is remarkably similar to the high school cafeteria. Everyone is looking around, sizing up where they stand in the whole social strata, gossiping about so-and-so, and who's going to which party tonight.
Not that there's anything wrong with that.
What was wrong? The cab strike. There was all of 20 cabs in the whole city—which meant that those of us without a car service (is there anything more luxurious?) had to brave the oppressive heat of the subway stations or (gasp!) walk.
After the Badgley Mischka show, Robin and I actually began darting through traffic on Broadway, risking life and limb in order to make it to the Thom Browne show on time. We did make it. Just in time to wait twenty minutes for the show to begin. But oh, was it worth it.
To the shrilling sound of Jimi Hendrix's rendition of the Star Spangled Banner, models walked the runway—a sand strewn boardwalk—wearing strangely cool plaid on plaid (on plaid), and suits outfitted with fabric roses and even cod-pieces. (Fun fact: Anna Wintour, who sat right across the runway from me, was guarded by two well dressed men, who at the very last minute before the show, took the seat right next to me.) The entire collection was American surfer goes to prep school—complete with svelte lifeguards watching from above. And while strange, the most of the clothes were very beautiful.
Less strange, but just as good looking was Rag & Bone. One of the collections I was looking forward to seeing, it had a very 60s-Sean-Connery-as-Bond feel and everything looked smart, sporty and sexy. Girls in belted bikinis and safari jumpsuits, guys in sharply tailored charcoal suits and natty waistcoats. Somehow, Rag & Bone always makes a dandy look just a bit dangerous. Even a casual bowling shirt looked hip.
The show was held at Cipriani on 42nd, and leaving the show, a cute and rather diminutive Asian woman approached me. She showed me her Fashion Week credential that read "Photographer: Elle Japan." She asked if she could take my picture, "Blue-eyed all-American boy," she said, followed by "can you stand against the wall, put on sunglasses and look cool?" I said I'd sure try and gave my best straight-faced fashion pose.
I could go on about the other shows, but this would be the longest post ever and you might not care that much—and if you do, there are plenty of options to read all about them.
All in all, New York was a blast. I was photographed by a foreign fashion mag. Scored some swag. Perfected my two-cheek fashion kiss greeting. Saw some beautiful clothes. I got to see and learn so much, I got to meet a lot of great people and catch up with some old friends.
My only complaint would be that WAY too many people in fashion smoke. I know it keeps you thin, but come on. I actually left a party early because the smoke in this gorgeous Greenwich townhouse was making me nauseous. I imagine they're still cleaning the tar off the windows.
But I can't complain, it was the most fun I've ever been paid to have.
And because so many of you are inquiring, a listing of the celebrities I either bumped up against, chatted with, sheepishly was introduced to, or just gawked at from across the runway: Demi Moore, Hilary Swank, Mischa Barton, Lance Bass, Clive Owen, Zoe Deschanel, Kate Bosworth, Teri Hatcher, Ivana Trump, Nick Cannon, Amanda Peet, Jamie Burke, Mya, Jeremy Piven and Britney Snow.
The industry people I was more excited to meet/see: Phillip Lim, Justin Guinta, Agyness Deyn, Joe Zee, Mark Holgate, Kate Lanphear, Meredith Melling Burke, Jessica Stam, Gucci Westman, Blaine Zuckerman (yes, of The Hills fame) and my friends Korin Miller, Carol Han and Amy Peck.
PHOTO: Maria Valentino
"Hi, I'm calling about the vintage toy listing on Craigslist."
I pity 'da fool.
So tonight, I was waiting for Jeremy at the Metro station, when all of a sudden a gentleman passes by me. While typing away on my iPhone, I catch—just briefly out of the corner of my eye—a flash of red and the distinct cartoon image of Mr. T.
That's right. Mr. T.
So I look up and there before me stands a man in his mid-twenties carrying a child's lunchbox. An old school plastic one, just like the one I used to carry in fourth grade. Only mine was emblazoned with the Transformers or Thundercats. This young conservative seems to be a fan of the A-Team.
Freshly scrubbed and outfitted in the wonky Washington uniform of a pressed Brooks Brothers oxford, red power tie and navy trousers, he stood there chatting away into his Razr phone about a happy hour date tomorrow.
Would he show up toting his little lunchbox?
I guess it wouldn't have been so shocking had he shown any other personal style. But he was vanilla everywhere else—from his prep-school parted hair to his polished oxblood loafers—that this sudden punctuation of personality was a bit jarring.
But I say, if you wan't to keep your PB&J and Capri Sun safe on your way to work, there's no better carrier than a vintage lunchbox.
You can't go home again.
Or can you?
Sure, it's never how you left it. It's different. And so are you. But things don't change that much—at least not in Mascoutah, Illinois. Which is exactly what I love about coming back. The stillness. The quiet. The kind people.
I took the week off—of work, of deadlines, of emails—and went home to see the family. At the perfect time too. It was the annual Homecoming und Augustfest, which means parades, funnel cakes and all my friends from high school.
And all along, I was snapping impromptu pictures to capture the experience. Click above for a slideshow of my trip (Also, a big thanks to Karen and Emily. For the good times and for a few photos I ripped to complete the slide show!)
"Hi, I'm Cory. Will you wear these pants?"
Just another day.
After pulling pieces for an upcoming column on high-waisted pants, I knew we'd have to shoot them on a girl to really get the full effect of the look. But we couldn't get a model on such short notice and frankly, they made me look hippy.
But determined to get my way, I started asking around the office. Surely there must be some pretty young thing that wouldn't mind getting her photo taken to run in the Shopper column, right?
And thankfully, there was. Sarah's a news aide on my floor and modern dancer. She was so much fun and such a great sport. Since she's used to costumers pulling at her before performances she didn't find my incessant primping, pinning, tucking and tugging at all invasive or offensive.
I snapped this photo with my new iPhone (I love that I can take pictures while looking like I'm simply checking an important email) during one of the sessions. Look how model-ly Sarah looks? If you're reading this Douglas, you should book her. Immediately, if not sooner.
Green living
Talk about eco chic. My week of vegetarianism has left me feeling cleaner, lighter and just plain healthier. Unfortunately, it's also left me wanting a steak.
Yes, I decided to give up all meat for no other reason than to see what it was like and if I was strong enough to do it. Plus I always felt kind of gross after I eating Five Guys (where Jeremy and I stop for burgers almost weekly). So I just wanted to see what it was like.
And strangely, it wasn't that difficult to get around eating meat. I'm not sure what the pseudo-meat market was like years ago, but today one can eat spicy buffalo chicken strips, bacon and burgers all made from soy and other veggie-products.
Not to mention my love of Asian food borders on the level of substance abuse. And it's much easier to order some tofu and veggies with brown rice at my neighborhood Thai place than sub out the meat at a regular restaurant.
But here are few tips for first time vegsters:
1. Always ask for firm tofu. The soft stuff has a certain phlegm-like quality that I found a bit unappetizing.
2. A wedge salad is delicious (blue cheese and pseudo-bacon) and since you cut it up, gives you the feeling like you're eating a hearty meal.
3. A portobello mushroom makes for a good burger substitute, if you can get past the inky dark juice that drips from it.
Sure, I've caved since my week ended. But I'm actually sticking with most of my vegetarian alternatives. Of course sometimes you just have to have the real thing. Like the orange chicken from Panda Express (I'm sorry, I love it). After all, I don't have that many old-school masculine rituals. So I couldn't very well say goodbye to a good steak, could I?
Drew working his best 'blue steel' for the camera.
Load it, check it, quick. Rewrite it.
Taking the morning off from the day job to style a photo shoot is always a good way to end the week.
This time it was an Express cover shoot with their new photographer, Marge. She's from Texas and is sweet in that way that only Southern folk can be.
It was supposed to be a simple daily story, but I guess they liked the concept because it became a cover story for Weekend Styles—tomorrow's actually. They wanted a men's story for summer. I thought of polos. But something a bit more hip and subversive. The anti-Lacoste.
I wanted a cool guy just hanging out. And we got some really striking shots for such a casual shoot. I'm getting some copies and will post them soon. Perhaps styling could be something I evolve into.
Drew, the model, was hilarious. He was tall, toned and tan, yet oddly uncomfortable in front of the camera for someone so genetically blessed. And has chosen to be a professional fashion model. But ultimately he liked the clothes, which always ends up producing better shots.
The rest of the week was spent eating out and staying in to work. I'm profiling our three Ralph Lauren stores in Georgetown and I think I've seen enough polos for quite sometime. Last night, I interviewed Peter Som, who was in town for a museum presentation (which was fantastic). I'm writing a short profile on him—a last minute freelance assignment. They seem to pop up at the strangest times.
A shot of Agyness Deyn in "The Nominees" video.
The Oscars of fashion
Fashion folk can over-emphasize certain events into life or death situations, but last night really was the industry's big night. The CFDA awards were held at the New York Public Library and there were a few surprises.
The biggest was that there was actually a tie. The Proenza boys, Jack and Lazaro won womenswear designer of the year, along with veteran Oscar de la Renta. A tie? Could this be seen as more of that whole 'democratizing of fashion' trend?
I, of course, was stoked. It's common knowledge that I've been a fan of Proenza Schouler since the start and as a fashion writer, this is as close to fantasy football as I can get.
And a few of my favorite new designers like Phillip Lim and the cool guys behind Rag & Bone won the Swarovski new designer awards. Interestingly, both lines will be in Thursday's column about dressy shorts for summer. Unfortunately, Tim Hamilton—another favorite who's working with me for an upcoming story—did not win, but he's a talented designer who will only get better. He'll be up at that podium soon enough.
Robin, who took home the Eugenia Sheppard journalism award, looked lovely and brought her father, which was beyond sweet. Of course, I saw none of it, because I was here, in DC. But who's complaining? Not this kid. He got to call in tons of samples and send hundreds of emails compiling product for three columns because of vacation timelines.
But I did get a small glimpse into the show ... and so can you! The highly anticipated (if only by me) nominee video shot by the clever folks at Show Studio, was released today. It features Agyness Deyn, the impish Manchester model I met at a party in New York recently, dancing and posing in the nominated collections. It's seven kinds of cool and I suggest watching it.
PHOTO: Showstudio.com
Barneys CEO Howard Socol with the iconic Kate.
Where does the time go?
Okay. I get it. I've been a bit derelict with my blogging. April and even May came and went. A friend I haven't seen in more than eight years, now in the Army who served in Iraq, found my site and one of his first comments was, "You need to update your blog."
So here I am. It's the least I can do for the troops.
I've come to realize that my life is hectic. And always will be. I like it like that. And sometimes it moves so fast, I don't think to slow down and appreciate it. The very nature of my job is about looking for the next great thing, what's new, what's exciting and fresh, that I don't fully value the now. But despite the schedule, the pace, the stacks of Fed Ex boxes to be sent, clothes to be steamed, deadlines to be met, I'm having the time of my life. In fact there's seems to be way too much to write about, so perhaps I'll just break it down real simple like.
1. I hung out with blogger/designer/man about town Nick Olsen when he came to DC. I spent two days with him, shopping around town, talking shop, gossiping and having dinner. I even got a shout out in his blog. It was a blast. I've been a fan of his (and the blog) since his amazing apartment was featured in the November Domino. During our spree, he showed me what a wimp I can be when it comes to shopping. He'd run into places that my inner snob wouldn't have me look twice at. What's more, he finds things once inside! In a cramped and musty Ethiopian shop on 18th Street in Adam's Morgan, he rushed toward a heaping stack of African printed vests. I wouldn't even fathom wearing something like that, because, well, I don't sell incense on a street corner, but Nick found one he liked, saying "Hmm, I could rock this for summer." He tried it on and after a quick skirmish with the shop's proprietor (owner: That's too small for you. Nick: Oh, I'll be the judge of that, sir!) he left with a new vest. I've written a feature about Nick and his design sensibility for Style that hopefully will run soon.
2. One my best (and oldest) friends, Lynne, came out to DC to visit. And it was really great to have this piece of my old life in Illinois come and see what life's like for me now. She tried some new food at my favorite Pan-Asisn restaurant and I introduced her to Sephora. She's always been a fragrance-phile, so I knew she'd love that and we loaded her up with samples. She met Jeremy and we all went out for dinner and brunch. What's amazing is how little has changed in our relationship, despite her being married (with a son), living in a small town and me being a gay workaholic living with my boyfriend in a big city. Turns out, my relationship with Jeremy is a lot like your typical midwestern marriage. How's that for good old-fashioned values?
3. My latest trip to New York found me at the launch party for the Kate Moss Top Shop line (see my paparazzi-esque pic above). I was supposed to meet Robin, my journalistic hero and Washington Post colleague, but she was too fashioned out from the Costume Institute gala the previous night, so I ended up going it alone. After all, when the invitation says, "you've got a date with Kate," you go. It's as simple as that. But after a few flutes of Vueve yellow label I had enough confidence to introduce myself to a few folks, who in turn, introduced me to whomever they were with. I got to meet a lot of great people in the industry and some great fashion writers whom I read everyday. And much to my dear friend Karen's discontent I even swigged back some champers with Simon Doonan who introduced me to the lady of the evening.
4. Vacation was a blast. It was all about taking it easy. Catching up on three-month old magazines. Lying around, the sensations of terry cloth and warm sun on the skin. Real relaxation. A week of wearing nothing but T-shirts and board shorts, no watch, no cell phone. Just sun, sand, some swimming, good food and few margaritas.
Other than those major events, things have boiled down to a lot of work. The Shopper column has been going great--keeping me busy. So busy, in fact, I've neglected this site. It's been getting picked up a lot more I'm told and it recently ran in both Germany and India, which is, for lack of a better word, nuts. And I've got two pieces for Express coming up as well as the big home piece for the Sunday magazine.
Then there are a few other assignments in the works, but I'll hold off on telling you about them, until they're all set. Until then. Stay cool kids.
A day in the life ...
An old friend of mine was inquiring what life was like for me now. I was rattling off things I was working on, things I wanted to do and a few obligations I could do without. He said he's been keeping tabs on me from my blog and said that it'd be cool to do a day in the life kind of entry. "Yeah, there's nothing more I'd like to do than write all day for an entire day," I said and waited about two seconds before saying, "actually that might be kind of fun." So yesterday, I did it.
You think you know, but you have no idea ... this is the diary of Cory Ohlendorf.
5:30 am: Up and at 'em. I don't normally start this early, but an unexpected email last night has created a deadline that's forced a self-proclaimed "not a morning person" to start the day before the sun rises. Shower, shave and find something warm to wear as it will be snowing ALL DAY! Make myself some hot tea for the commute to the office.
6 am: Emails, emails, already! Who's emailing in the middle of the night? Delete all spam, and note the ones that must be answered ASAP. Work away at my project before the boss gets in while eating some apple-cinnamon oatmeal for breakfast.
8:20 am: Grab some coffee on my way out the building. I'm off to Barton Seaver's place for a quick impromptu photo shoot for my next piece in the Sunday Post magazine. Walk with him down to U street, and since I'm in the neighborhood, do a little shopping.
12 noon: Every other Wednesday, I mentor a sweet first-grader at Ross Elementary. One of the books she and I read today: "The Berenstain Bears: No girls allowed," a favorite of mine as a kid. (Looking back now, I can see the irony.)
1:15 pm: Fifteen minutes late meeting Jose Vargas, a colleague of mine at the Post, for lunch. Talk about online journalism, goals for improving Style on the web and bitch about how some old folks "just don't get it!"
2:30 pm: Stressful meeting with my editor about upcoming Shoppers. Get back to my desk and pound out some personal emails. Kill fifteen minutes checking MySpace, Facebook and a few blogs for any random bit of useless knowledge that somehow becomes relevant later.
3:15 pm: Caffeine run ... Caribou Coffee gets another $1.53 of my hard-earned money. Make a quick phone call home to let the folks know I'll be flying in for a quick Easter visit.
4 pm: Make some phone calls, return some emails and do a little organizing in the fashion closet. Pack up some boxes to send samples back—life isn't always so glamorous. Confirm a few deliveries for upcoming columns - publicists can be so helpful sometimes.
6:17 pm: Done for the day, work-wise. Hop on the subway. Meet Jeremy in Georgetown for dinner with my friend and fellow writer Caleb. Talk about life, love and happiness over Mexican food and margaritas. Stop off on the walk home and pick up dessert.
9 pm: Return a few emails, make a list of to-do's for tomorrow. Hunker down on the couch with a cup of tea and some fresh magazines.
10:30 pm: Enjoy some very inappropriate humor during the Sarah Silverman show on Comedy Central.
12:22 pm: Plop into bed, asleep within minutes.
He works hard for the money
I was just given the stats and usage numbers of my site and was blown away to see how many of you were out there, clicking away and taking in all of my musings. First off, thank you. And secondly, I'm sorry I don't update this more.
But, as I'm sure you realize, when I can't write postings for my blog, it usually means that I'm writing other pieces. Pieces that, unlike my blog, actually end in a paycheck.
I do have some stories to share—New York was amazing and my first fashion week experience was everything I could've wanted and more—so I promise to kiss and tell (and upload a few photos) soon.
But since I've been so busy writing for "the man," I thought I'd upload some to my portfolio and share 'em with you guys too.
The shopper column has been a blast. I couldn't ask for a better fitting job. The rosette piece got me in touch with Phillip Lim, who is such an amazing designer and I'm so stoked he's taking on menswear. He'll be a name that you'll soon be hearing again and again. The owl trend piece was so much fun to work on and was run in over a dozen papers across the country. I've learned that the column is actually a regular feature in a lot of papers—so crazy.
And the men's jewelry story was one I had wanted to do for months, so I was really happy that my editor was receptive to it. Not to mention I was able to speak to both Justin Giunta and Daniel Casarella. Both of whom have such remarkable taste, a passion for art and history and create things that at once both stylish and masculine. And I got a very nice thank you note from jewelry designer Jessica Sill the day after this week's Asian trend column ran.
In non-linkable (at least, for right now) work, my first pieces in DC magazine are out on newsstands, so all of you in Washington, pick one up and take a look.
Oh, and as of right this second, the Oscar jewelry piece I wrote for the Sunday Arts section of the Post (their special Academy Awards package) was just put up online, so take a look.
And let's see ... what else? Right now, I'm talking with up-and-coming menswear designers for a piece that will run in all the Modern Luxury magazines (which means CS in Chicago ... which I used to pick up every month when I was in college) for their "Men's Issue" in April.
But to be honest, the future event I'm most looking forward to is tomorrow morning—brunch at the Four Seasons with Jeremy. A last-minute Valentine's surprise. So I'm off to bed so I'll be refreshed for my mimosas.
Recognize this hip New York designer, now cast in plastic?
Some news in my world
Two of my favorite fashion fellas have some interesting (and I might add) shocking news.
I spoke with Tim Gunn today (always a pleasure—he is one of the most genuine, gracious and eloquent sources I've ever come to know. And since he answered my call by saying "Cory? Oh I'm so glad we can talk!" I will now consider him a friend.).
Okay, back to my point, I spoke to him today for an upcoming story I'm working on for our big Oscar package and it just so happens that we spoke on the right day.
We were to speak yesterday, but his cell kept going to voicemail. Later, I myself got a voicemail message after I exited some store that mustn't have had any cell service.
"Cory, I apologize profusely," said the smooth, soothing voice of my new friend. "I've got a new job and I've been on the phone with too many people." What's this? A new job?
And what do you know? I finally got through to him today and he told me that he's accepted the position as Chief Creative Director for Liz Claiborne Inc., where he'll serve as a mentor to their large group of designers for brands like Juicy Couture and Ellen Tracy. In a way, he was meant for such a role. It's exactly what he was doing on the show and at Parsons. Now just on an even larger scale. So I say Bravo! (pun intended.) I know he'll continue to be a force in the industry, and I hope he can stay with Project Runway. He is, in fact, going to have his own show later this year.
In other news, I came across a press release and noticed the name Zac Posen. Now, I'm a huge fan of Zac Posen and have been following his career since he began. In short, he can do no wrong by me. I can't get enough of his love for glamour, his intricate seaming and pin-tucks, the drama he seemingly infuses into his clothing. I'd love to see Zac be the next young, hip designer to do a capsule collection or some other cool side project.
That said, I was shocked to see the press release was for a Zac Posen Barbie. Seriously? Is that really what a cool, young New York designer should be doing?
Then again, other American greats like Bob Mackie, Diane Von Furstenberg and Anna Sui have all created couture for that leggy blonde.
But this one stands out because, unlike previous designer dolls, it comes with its own Ken doll. And what's more, it's not really Ken, it's actually Zac. Curly hair, metallic blazer, designer denim. Check, check, check. Even his dog, Tina, a studio regular is here and accounted for. So maybe it's not so strange. Or so bad. In fact, maybe it's good. Like that Aqua song—ever so popular when I was in high school—once sang, "Life in plastic ... it's fantastic!"
PHOTOS: FAO Schwarz
Me and Jeremy brave the cold for a little prosciutto and mozzarella.
A full circle moment
It's finally been cold enough to snow.
Now, living in a city—especially in a city where there is much walking to be done—cold is not a good thing. And I have windburn on my cheeks to prove it. But I can't help but marvel at the snow like a child. There's still such hopefulness to it. This great white blanket, covering everything and seemingly cleaning up all the dirt and grime and bad.
And no matter how cold it is, nothing stops Jeremy and I from going out to dinner. Why stay in when it's cold, windy and snowy, when there's Pizzeria Paradiso's oven-fresh Siciliana pizza waiting for you? So we trudged through the freshly fallen snow and I slipped.
My feet whooshed in front of my face and my ass met the quaint, cobblestone sidewalk with a satisfying thump.
"If this was forty years from now," laughed Jeremy. "You'd be in a lot of trouble."
"Yeah, and in a lot more pain," I retorted as we dusted the fluffy powder from my lower half.
It's been a crazy week. I had to call in product for three weeks worth of columns, write a one-pager for a magazine and finish revisions on two other freelance pieces. The funny thing is that after I'm finished, all the pressure of the looming deadlines never seems so bad. What was I so stressed about? I often wonder days later.
Today I had one of those out of body experiences. No, I wasn't almost hit by an errant city bus (although, I'm sure it's only a matter of time). I received an invitation to the Banana Republic fashion show next week during New York's fashion week.
Now, with my new position, I've actually received quite a number of invitations, but what made this one particularly significant is that just over a year ago, I was working for Banana Republic. It was my survival job, at a location, here in Georgetown. We'd have quarterly meetings and we'd watch the show on a little TV/VCR combo they'd wheel up from the storeroom.
I'm still getting used to this. And by 'this,' I mean my life. I'm busy, and stressed and pressured and I couldn't be happier. The funny thing about achieving your goals and getting exactly what you want, is that it doesn't change you a bit. You're still you, all your flaws or insecurities and curiosities and quirks. I hope I never change—that I never become accustomed to this or take it for granted.
This weekend Jeremy and I are taking a three-day weekend and heading up to New York. It's part work—I want to get into a few showrooms and shops, but we always go shopping when we're in Manhattan—but also part play. We're just going to bum around and get lost, the way we love to do when we're there.
I'm just praying for some warm walking weather.
Superdry's chunky plastic aviators.
Starting things out right
I'm starting this year out fresh and rather than making some empty promises by resolving to do this or stop doing that, I've decided that I'll just focus on living well. Of course, that could be construed as a resolution of sorts, but it's more like subtle changes for the better.
Rearranging the apartment into a better living space. Editing my closet. Keeping my desk organized by regularly purging all the unnecessary press releases and samples. And already, just a few weeks in, I can tell my life is running more smoothly.
Of course, I still haven't hit the gym. But, you know, baby steps.
The job's going well. Really well. I've been promoted to the "Shopper" columnist. That means my column is going to be running every Thursday in the Style section (and online—so you all should be checking it out). It's a lot of freedom: I come up with the concepts, choose the products, pieces and clothing, and write the text. Every week. Fifty-two a year. A bit overwhelming, but when has anything worth it ever been easy?
And speaking of shopping, one of my favorite British sites, ASOS.com, is having a massive sale right now. I suggest you check it out. Sure some of it can look a bit, oh what's the word, Euro-trashy, but there's some really unique stuff on there. I found two great skinny ties that have customized screen-printing on them. Very much in the preppy-with-an-edge style Joe Zee's putting on everyone these days.
I also found a slick pair of acetate plastic sunglasses by Superdry, an English sportswear brand that takes its inspiration from the Japanese fascination with Americana. David Beckham (the dapper footballer who's coming to America himself) is a huge fan and is often seen sporting their sunglasses or wearing one of their signature "Osaka 6" jersey tees.
I thought these cool smoke-hued shades (above right) were just enough parts retro, nerdy and on-trend now to sport this winter and into spring. What's more, they're on sale for less than ten bucks, even with trans-Atlantic shipping. Can you beat that? No, you cannot.
PHOTO: ASOS.com
"Back home"
Well, it's over. Quicker than ever before, my Christmas is done. And like many Christmases of past, I'm filled with pangs of post-holiday depression. All the waiting, the planning, the purchasing, the wrapping, the cooking, the eating, the drinking, the hugs, the laughs, the so-good-to-see-you's. It's all so much. It's all so good.
And it's over. It can't last forever, of course. Who'd want it to? That's what makes it so special, but it's tough. I'm sad to be leaving so quickly. I'm at the gate, waiting to board my flight back to Washington and it's tough. Especially since I only get home a few times a year now.
But often when I'm home, driving down country lanes, laughing with old friends, spending time with my family, I think to myself, "This isn't so bad. In fact, it's pretty damn good." And then I think, "should I be living here?" With my family. With the people who've known me since I was nine or ten.
It's hard sometimes being the one so far away. With so much keeping me away.
But then I find myself somewhere—a restaurant, a store, my childhood bedroom—and something sparks a wave of memories. And I see the kid who dreamt of moving on. That chubby-cheeked dreamer who wanted to get out. See things. Do great things.
And now I'm doing all that. I'm doing what I used to daydream about. How many people get to do that?
So yeah, it's hard sometime. But I guess it's a good hard. I had a great Christmas. We ate and drank (and I mean DRANK. Wine, champagne, margaritas, beers ... you name it, we imbibed!) and laughed a lot. We reminisced on old times, past Christmases. We had a candle-lit Christmas Eve dinner. We watched movies and I finally went to the Nite Deposit. Danny and I went out for sushi. It snowed. Just a little.
Everyone appreciated the gifts I got them and I certainly loved the ones they found for me. I needed another suitcase just to pack them all (thanks Mom and Dad)!
But I guess I am looking a little forward to going back home. (It's funny, when I'm in DC, Mascoutah is what I refer to as 'home.' But when I'm back here, I call Washington 'home.' Go figure). I'm actually looking forward to going back to work. I've got two pieces coming out this week and two more next week. And what's more fun than a byline, right?
But I will miss that smell of 'home.' The coffee after dinner. And while it's not always a good thing, the loudness of my family. Perhaps I'll get a glass of wine on the plane. After all, I haven't had any ... today.
Contemplating on a great day
I just got back from the WashingtonPost.com's Christmas party—only fair after dragging Jeremy to the Style section's party this past Saturday. And as we were leaving it struck me just how fortunate I am. And I'm not just talking about the open bar, which any journalist will tell you, is a blessing in itself.
A year ago I hadn't even started at Washingtonian. Since then, I've booked countless jobs for various publications and gotten a full-time job at one of the best papers in the world (in one of the best sections of the paper). I'm getting some great opportunities in the Style section and the future's looking really bright.
I've become a go-to guy for Express, covering much to all of their men's fashion and snagging some really cool cover stories. They're allowing me to take some great chances and I'm evening writing and styling a woman's fashion story tomorrow (our first on location) for the cover of the January 5th "Weekend Styles."
I've also just booked another freelance story for a magazine—which I'll talk about later.
You know how you sometimes dare yourself to do something? Just jump and not really think about what hitting the ground will feel like? I think that it's a good way to live sometimes. If we thought about all the "what ifs," we might not ever get out of bed. And we'd surely not take the chances, the risks, seize the opportunities that are floating above us. Just out of reach. But you have to brave enough to stretch—reach out and clutch them in your hands.
Karen called the other day and said that my John Varvatos cologne review had run in that day's Red Eye. How cool, that my work was being published in Chicago! And today I got a great email from my college friend, Betsy. She'd seen my site and heard what I've been up to and she wished me well, saying that she was proud of me. That really meant a lot. To be recognized. Because it has been a lot of work.
But, to me, there's no better feeling than getting that thing I've sought out. Conversely, there's nothing scarier either. But it's that fuzzy, nerve-wracking, creative-energy scary. And that's not so bad after all.
When I was diagnosed with cancer three years ago, I wasn't sure what to make of my life, my fate and this grand career I was hoping to build. And when, after the surgery, I found out that I was free and clear, it taught me that nothing is certain in life. Nothing's promised to us.
But you can't be too scared to challenge yourself either. Do what you want to do. Make your life what you want it to be. It's hard sometimes. Filled with the sting of rejections. The dull weariness of sleepless nights and long days.
But you have to decide that it—whatever "it" may be—is worth it. And right now, it's all working for me. And I'm the happiest, proudest, most content I think I've ever been. And know I'll sleep well tonight. Good night.
At the cover shoot: styling Devin on set.
Hides to seek
My latest fashion piece is out today—the leather jacket cover story for the Weekend Styles section of Express—so all of you in the DC area should pick it up this weekend (or simply click here).
This was, like most of my pieces for Weekend Styles, a blast to put together. My editor at Express gives me such freedom and while the actual finding, borrowing, styling, writing and editing encompasses much more than the final page would ever suggest, the stories usually go from pitch to page with very little interference.
I especially had some fun with this one, being that it's on leather jackets for men. I found the whole iconography of the American male and leather jackets so interesting. The whole Marlon Brando, Steve McQueen thing. As soon as I put one of these jackets on, it's like the testosterone starts bubbling. It's like a machismo coat of armor.
The model, Devin McGaughey, is the drummer for the DC band Kenin and was a great sport. Michelle (the photographer) and I had a blast with him. And I'm really getting into styling the looks for the layouts and cover shoots. Depsite having control of the overall look for my pages and covers, it just fun to play around with different pieces and try new things. It's like having beefy, six-foot tall paper dolls. And what boy didn't want that growing up?
PHOTO: Michelle Repiso
A day of thanks
I'm spent. I gorged on last night's meal, stuffed, but in that good way that only happens with a hearty holiday meal. I love sweet potatoes, especially when they're swimming in a shallow bath of butter and brown sugar. And cranberries. I'm going to eat them more often. While I admit they look disgusting, in their can-shaped giggling gel form, they're delicious and so much better than the 'real' berries.
I made my grandmother's pumpkin pie recipe with six or seven different spices and the whole apartment filled with the sweet, spicy smell of something baking. I proudly pulled the rust-colored pie from the oven, happy to have a piece of home with me here.
The oven must've been on for a good six hours yesterday, so the house has never felt more warm. We cleared the table of our stacks of books and our laptops and for the first time set the dinner table with placemats and napkins, silver and candles.
Afterwards, we took a long walk—down to the mall to see the monuments at night—a tradition we started after last year; our first Thanksgiving away from home. We burned off just enough calories to dig into the pie once we got home. And then put up the Christmas tree.
I love decorating the tree, I think, for the same reason why I love to pack my suitcase. There's a hopefulness to the activity. A plan for what's to come. Plus, I love all the ornaments I've collected since childhood, given to me by my mother two years ago when I moved to Washington.
I received at least one ornament a year (and often times more), many from my grandmother and they serve a mile-markers throughout my life. Everything's accounted for, wrapped in vibrantly-colored tissue paper. There's the tiny mouse riding a snowball from my first snowfall (and one of the earliest memories of Christmas I have). There's the little London Bobby, from the years I wanted to grow up to become a police officer. There's the dog I got when I was ten. One from the Olympics in Norway and a handful of different drums and musical-related ones. I love it, a literal family tree.
I think I'll get one for me and Jeremy this year. Keep the tradition alive. And mark this great time in my life—a year where I've never been more thankful for all of my blessings bestowed on me.
The mysterious duo on Target.com.
Bullseye
As the new Behnaz Sarafpour collection hits the racks at everyone's local Target's, brought to us all by their genius Go International campaign, the question now becomes: who's next?
My guess? Proenza Schouler.
My hopes? High.
Here are some facts, if not exactly reasons why: They've yet to host any male designers, and from the silhouettes in this screenshot from the Web site, they certainly look male. So who does that leave us? Dolce & Gabanna? Nope. Viktor & Rolf? Busy with H&M. Heatherette? Perhaps, but I don't think so.
No, my money's on my boys Jack and Lazaro, whom I've been a fan of since I began writing about fashion in college.
If you haven't seen the documentary "Seamless," that documents the CFDA's first ever Fashion Fund competition (that Proenza Schouler won), add it to your Netflix queue right now. You'll fall for these fun-loving guys, who are quickly becoming the crowned princes of American fashion. Their clothing is sophisticated without being staid, playful without being silly, sexy without being vulgar.
The silhouettes recall old images of Azzadenie Alaiia and Helmut Lang. Tailoring is definitely one of their strongest suits, which is truly the mark of any great designer.
I remember talking with Tim Gunn about the boys. He was their dean at Parsons when they created their fateful thesis collection (which Julie Gilhart of Barney's bought in its entirety, thus launching their careers).
"You know when you see something and it just lifts you off the ground by even a quarter of an inch?" Tim asked me. "I saw that collection--in muslin no less--and turned to the other faculty and said, 'we have a winner.' And boy, did we."
Various pieces from the look book. How hot are these girls?
And then I found Jane magazine's Web site posted these four photos, allegedly from the upcoming collection that should start up at the first of the year. I'll have to find something a little unisex. I can't pass up an opportunity to own a little piece of history!
PHOTOS: Janemag.com
And so it begins
After much delay, I've decided to merge all the aspects of my life into one site. Part personal, part professional, but certainly 100 percent me. It'll be about my work, my life, my passions and what ever items I'm currently coveting.
I don't like rules. The 'comments' section of my third grade report card read, "Talks too much, distracts the other students and seems to be developing a problem with authority." At the time, I'm pretty sure this was meant as a bad thing.
But as an adult, these are the makings of an individual--someone who isn't comfortable sticking to the status quo. It's certainly helped me as a journalist and writer.
And thus, this site will be about my experiences reporting (mind you, I'm a features writer so many experiences will by pushy publicists), what I'm working on, what I'd like to be working on and simply my thoughts and ideas as I go along.
The site will continue evolve--I'm planning this to be a breeding ground for new ideas and a forum for me to talk about things that perhaps wouldn't fit into the pieces I write for other publications.
Stay tuned, look around and keep checking back to see what I'm up to.
cory ohlendorf
Want to know more? Why I do the things I do? Find out all you ever want to know and probably more.
