Covetworthy

I have been searching for a new (and not-so-humble) abode for nearly five years. Seems impossible but it’s all truth. This quest has taken me high into the hills of Hollywood, deep into the canyons of Santa Monica; estates in, like, gated communities, you know, like, in the Valley; beachfront bungalows along the Pacific coast.  Even as far as NYC, where I was whisked about in a black Lincoln town car, flitting between fabulous high rises, each with jaw-dropping views and five-star resort amenities. (Um, maid service, daily continental breakfasts, Friday night cocktail parties for residents all at no charge, anyone?)

But for the past 16 months, I have been pretty particular about one in particular. Then this week, after months of negotiations and culminations, walk-throughs and drivebys, buildups and letdowns, we decided to walk away. To be sure, this was not the expected turn of events, but even more surprising has been my reaction. I’m not disappointed. Not depressed. But actually, relieved. Yup, relief.

For so long, it was like trying to force a square peg in a round hole. All these problems, big and small, tripping up what should have been my joyous Jimmy Choo stride into the flyest house on the block.  And finally – FINALLY – I stopped. And that brings me to what just might be the most revelatory covetworthy idea yet. Covetworthy Tip #84: Don’t force it.

Incidentally, this truism is worth applying to many facets of a covetworthy girl’s life: be it shoes, relationships, high-waisted pants or the biggest financial decision you’ll make in your entire life. You know, when you’re working too hard to make it work? Yeah, don’t.

And as if I needed any more proof, there’s also this: since Monday, I’ve thrice been complimented by strangers on my makeup (when all I was wearing was moisturizer, Great Lash, eyeliner and Smashbox gloss.) Then two people stopped me in Beverly Hills and asked if they’ve seen me on television.

Coincidence? I think not.  Just goes to show that a clear head trumps clear skin anyday.

For years, I have been pining for a Proper Home Library. (By “Proper Home Library,” I am not referring to the two shelves in my dank cave home office where the esteemed works of Emily Bronte, Maya Angelou and Stephenie Meyer Malcolm Gladwell live.  I mean a wall stocked neatly with books of beautiful prose and thought-provoking tomes, and a beautiful upholstered reading chair befitting a smartypants glamourpuss like me.)  Whenever I visit someone’s house and their books are displayed fashionably, orderly, prominently, proudly, I get a real bad case of the envies.

I have no space for a PHL of my own right now. The sexy hilltop lovenest we bought seven years ago now has exactly 100% more humans and approximately 300% more noise-making plastic things that must go…somewhere. So imagine my surprise when, surfing for beautiful things to write about on this blog, I came across this.

How gorgeous is THIS?!? I am enthralled by this and it just proves my point. Covetworthy Tip #938:  Open your eyes. Covetworthy is everywhere. This is elevated beyond a library: it’s an art piece, a conversation starter, and yes, the mother of all geek chic projects. I mean, who organizes their books according to jacket color? Are we in agreement that this will make it impossible to find a specific book? But aren’t we also in agreement that we don’t give a rat’s ass if the results are this good?

This photo has inspired me to create beauty around me and to find luxury in the little things, the mundane, the everyday. So today I’m starting with my bookcase.

What are you inspired to make more beautiful?

Earlier this year, I had to end my relationship…with television. After making sweet love to my Tivo all winter, I decided to break it off with my remote and go back to the books. I went literal, literally.

I have been an avid reader all my life, but for too long saying those words was cowpie. Living in NYC, I exhibited all the symptoms of a real reader – my four room apartment had but one television, on which I watched Seinfeld and the occasional rented video. I finished a book a week MINIMUM and frequented lit lovefests. Now my home has two more TVs than bedrooms, all but one have DVRs and my two-year-old can wield the remote with the best of ‘em. It’s just wrong.

(more…)

So, for the first post in this series on Swagger, let’s start with the definition.

Swagger (SWAG-uhr): Noun.

It’s a FEELING: the ability to remain above it all, focused. Keeping your head about you when all else is going to hell in a handbag. It’s believing and acting like the chaos dumped at your heels was your stepping stone to a greater and higher place.

It’s a FORM OF CURRENCY: yet unlike most monetary units, it isn’t subject to the peaks and valleys, whims and whimsies of the global marketplace. You can’t buy with it, but it can buy you lots…respect, loyalty, and power, to name a few. At home and in the home.  Abroad, as a broad, among the broads.

It’s a POWER POSITION: the corner office of cool. That DESIRED place we all strive for. It’s knowing what you’re worth and commanding full price, down to the last penny, pound or Euro.

It’s a CONSCIOUSNESS: Being fully aware of where you stand, who you stand with, who you can’t stand and what you won’t stand for.

It’s a MYSTIQUE: Choosing when, where, what and how many secrets to share. Chicks with swagger manage their magic well. They may live their lives as an open book, but they keep the juiciest parts password-protected.

It’s a LOOK: Ultimate comfort in one’s one skin, whether that skin is faux or fur, nude-colored or au naturale. You’re aware that fashion’s favorite new hue is violet, but when you rock it, rest assured that the word “shrinking” never enters anyone’s mind.

It’s a SKILL:  It’s being bold enough to step up to the plate, to admit one’s missteps, and most importantly, to step aside when the situation requires.

So now you know why it’s covetworthy.

Know someone with swagger? Share this with them.

I have a little secret. I design women’s lingerie (www.lavande-swk.com) and yet my own top drawer has been woefully abandoned. My unmentionables have become just that. Not. Worth. Mentioning.

Admittedly, this isn’t something that’s important to most. Some people live by a mission statement. Or it might be crucial to make a final statement. For me, it’s all about the Understatement. (And right about now, mine is the sound of crickets chirping in overgrown fields.)

I never thought this would happen. But two babies in two years can wreak serious havoc on a girl’s mojo, ya know? So now, bottoms bounce around with no tops. Once-doted-upon lace frillies (pre-bump) nestle next to well-worn Hanky Pankys (mid-bump.) Spanx sidle up to Agent Provocateur. We recently had a weekend away from the kids and, whereas I used to plan my vacation boudoir ensembles in advance, this time I just stashed a couple fresh pairs in the bag and prayed that this would be a lights-off situation. Pathetic.

What I know is that keeping a tight lingerie wardrobe requires maintenance. (Just like missing a few days at the gym won’t hurt, but skip a year and see what happens to your ass. No, seriously, go to a mirror and look at your ass.)

So I’m airing the proverbial dirty drawers to make this promise: I am heretofore undergoing an aggressive underwear overhaul.

1. I PLEDGE to purge – anything that doesn’t inspire has got to go.
2. I PLEDGE to buy things that match. Seems redundant but some things just must be said. (And THAT goes without saying.)
3. I PLEDGE not to make purchases from catalogs – that’s cheating. I will summon up the ovarios to walk into a lingerie department or boutique, and engage the services of a sales chick to fetch what I need, regardless if she’s enviably fit or heartbreakingly geriatric.

And finally…,
4. I PLEDGE to wear everything that I buy. No saving and no second-guessing.

Stay tuned for the updates, uploads and the uplifting…