bloody sunday

dad sent pix from my bday. i attached a few. i can't believe my mom is turning 60 on the 14th. she looks younger than all of us, it's psychotic. the first pic is of me playing with the kids who basically told me i was a retard and know nothing.

so i have no idea what i was talking about last night.
tonight all i care about is the fact that i'm finally home at a decent hour and i can tackle so many exciting projects like cleaning my blender.

narciso was gorgeous. there was this ethereal white silk dress, but it would probably cost me three months rent, so i am going to just say no. philip lim was beautiful. there is one bag that i am having a meltdown over. i was fixated on it and i don't know why. it was tan leather with blocks of mostly primary color, and it caught my eye and i have to have it. basically i didn't see a weak womens show today, even at dkny and kors. most of the mens left a lot to be desired. it's not that they were poorly produced or unattractive. it's just that i found them to be somewhat unimaginative. you don't have to go overboard, but it's good to fall somewhere in the middle. then again, if everything doesn't look like banana republic, how are the masses going to wear it? sounds mean, but it's true. if you ask the 25 boys in my office what they're wearing tomorrow, 98% of them are going to be wearing something from banana. they all look great but they are starting to look like the same person. hybrids rarely exist outside of fashion. the only people rolling their cuffs "just so" or accessorizing with vintage fedoras or bright pink stripy socks are in fashion or in a similar field, like photography, advertising, etc. i find that men would much rather blend in.
women are so much more creatively inclined.
aren't we great?
i know.

listening to a nelly furtado song. "flames to dust. lovers to friends. why do all good things come to an end?" i know what you're thinking but i can't help it. i am no elitist when it comes to music.
forgot to mention that i got drunk at brunch today at paris commune. wendell and i decided that it would be a great idea to order bloody mary's for the table. halfway through the meal, nick turns to me and says in his authoritative british tone: "now nina, don't get too drunk...we don't need you falling down the stairs at kors." so of course i spend the next two minutes defending myself and explaining how gracefully i carry myself. "besides, i really haven't even had that much of my drink, so everyone needs to relax." i excused myself to use the restroom (which was really quite pleasant by the way. the lighting was nice and it made me look better than i do in real life). i took my time, spiffed-up a bit, laughed at the thought of falling down the stairs after half a drink. i even ascended a bit more slowly - regally, even - to prove my point. i imagined the woman passing by with her two children pulling them aside and saying "see how that young lady steps? like a queen."

and then

I FELL
UP
THE
STAIRS.

not down.

UP.

and nick saw the whole thing.
wonderful.
story of my life.
the end.