THANK GOODNESS it is finally Friday.  A horrifically long workweek and this disgusting, stinking humidity, which makes Manhattan feel like one giant unwashed mouth – gross, but true – have put me a kind of foul mood this morning (if you didn’t notice).  BUT it has put me in the perfect frame of mind to laugh at this series of unintentionally sadistic, effed up vintage magazine ads that some FOAFOAF (I really don’t know this guy, but apparently one of my facebook friends does) pulled together for our benefit.    I especially like the cheery family of five playing with their new Christmas rifles.

Another favorite below, indicating that media portrayals of women screwed our mothers up, too.

Can't you see the CEOs fainting in my path?

I talk about fashion all the time, but we relatively seldom focus on the place where most of us spend a painful amount of time: the office. To be perfectly honest, my real work wardrobe falls somewhat short.  I do have a collection of well-fitting and perfectly serviceable suits, a probably inappropriate number of pairs of pin-striped slacks, largely from Banana Republic, and half a dozen shells and silk blouses in different colors. Beyond that, though, what I have in my closet for the workday is a collection of relics of shopping trips ten years ago when it had not yet occurred to me that fashion existed and that there was a distinction between things that looked good on the hanger and things that looked good on me.  (Oops.) I finally just threw away a pair of baggy burgundy pleat-front wool pants that were at least one size too large, and possibly two.  Let’s never speak of those again.

As I slowly replace the horrifying with the stylish, however, I find myself fantasizing about the wardrobe I’d have if someone gave me Sarah Palin’s campaign wardrobe funding.  That wardrobe?  Ooh.  You know the kind.  The wardrobe of clothes so mind-bogglingly sharp and fashionable that the women keel over out of sheer envy and the men can’t decide whether to be turned on by your gorgeousness or intimidated by your air of competence and power. My imaginary work wardrobe involves a lot of Hugo Boss, a lot of Armani, and a judicious selection of terrific work wear from other designers.  Filling my imaginary wardrobe is nearly as much fun as stepping up the real one.

Here’s what would be in my imaginary work closet for this season.

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I’ve found myself watching a lot of interior design shows lately.  Given that I don’t own my apartment and am not supposed to paint it, you could argue that this is a waste of time and mental energy, but hey, my wasting time is nothing new.  Here is one of the things I don’t get about makeover shows.  Why is it that so many people seem to say that their revised bedrooms look like a hotel room as if it was a good thing?

Hotel rooms are always way too cold.  The covers are invariably scratchy or too heavy.  Ninety percent of the time, they are totally characterless, decorated in white or beige, and have carpeting with a horrifyingly ugly pattern obviously designed to conceal questionable stains.  It’s a rare hotel room that has any real personality to it.  They’re like a hospital, but plushier.  I like traveling, but I have never been in a hotel room that made me want to take it home with me.  (I’ve been in hotels that made me wish my apartment was right there on the left bank with the hotel, but that’s a different question.) If they just mean that it looks clean and free of their junk like a hotel room does, I guess I can understand that, although one hopes that they understand that making their bedrooms up like a hotel room doesn’t actually mean that housekeeping will come and make their beds.

Possibly I just stay in hotels that are too low-end to properly appreciate the marvels of hotel-inspired design, but frankly, when the price goes much past $400 a night, I start thinking about shoes I could be buying instead.  And really, I find it difficult to believe that all of these people are thinking fondly of their latest stay in Ian Schrager’s latest high-end masterpieces and dreaming of the Chihuly installation in the lobby.

Is it just me?

Country tweed from Nanette Lepore.

I give in.  The fashion machine has won.  While I’m normally one of the people who refuses to even contemplate buying clothing for a season that is months away (who wants airy eyelet dresses in February?), my eye has officially moved on to fall fashion. The weather is hot and sticky, and I am far from done with the summer produce.  But still, jackets are starting to look cute to me again, and the texture of flannels and tweeds is starting to look rich and appealing again. Don’t get me wrong — I don’t want to WEAR any of it yet, and I really need to spend at least one solid day in a pool somewhere before the end of September.  But I have to admit, the wool is starting to call me.  Luckily, the stores, physical and online, are starting to fill up with distinctive pieces in tweed, plaid, and wool flannels.  Here are some of the pieces I most want to pet this fall.

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Versace, do you ever go wrong?

This dress is the epitome of spring — just in time for the fall collections.  It’s perverse, but I think I love it.  Can’t you just see it with a cute jacket tossed over it as you pick up cider donuts, as bright as the turning leaves?  I couldn’t wear that yellow in a million years, but hats off nonetheless.

Eeee! Need I say more?

I’m having a party at my place today.  I’ve got to say, I’m looking forward to it. My brother and his girlfriend are coming down from out of town this morning, my law school roommate came up last night, and friends from all corners of the world (Northeast) are converging for what promises to be a great time.  All the Femmeinistes will be here but Emma, who is (tragically) stuck living the high life in Europe.

I have to admit, though, that not least among my reasons that I’m looking forward to it is the fact that I’m hoping to get my brain back for purposes other than party planning tomorrow morning.  I don’t know how it is, but somehow even the simplest party seems to take up virtually all of my mental energy for a good week.  Yep, I have advanced degrees from prestigious schools, but somehow my brain is not capable of throwing a party and doing pretty much anything else at the same time.  Like, say, patting my head or rubbing my stomach.  Have I gotten any productive work done this week not related to the party?  You’re kidding, right?  I keep trying to sit down and accomplish something, only to find myself thinking that I need cornmeal and that the cat’s litterbox needs to be washed out.  It makes me fear for my job if I ever end up having to plan a wedding.  “I’ll get the revised contract right over to you and you know, I bet anemones will be hard to get at that time of year.  I need to call the florist again.”  Yes, this is what happens when Type A organizers plan social events. We line the details up like toy soldiers like toy soldiers in our heads, gloat over them, and redeploy them over and over again in increasingly efficient configurations.

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Multicolored sapphires from Reinstein/Ross.

Recent developments among friends have got me thinking about weddings.  (You know who you are!)  Being the jewelry fiend that I am, this of course leads me to thinking about jewelry for the ceremony.  Engagement rings, well, every woman seems to have her own opinion on the subject, but the options don’t end there.  Not everyone wants a lot of bling, but for those who just want to stick with a band, there’s no need for the band to be completely plain either.  While big statement rings are the fashion of the day, there are a lot of beautiful low-key diamond and gemstone bands out there too.  Some of these also make great little personal indulgences by themselves or stacked.  So, here’s a little eye candy and something to consider for those with a wedding in view and slightly non-traditional tastes.

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Carolina Herrera. Le sigh.

Like so many of my objects of lust, this dress is not something I would have regular use for in my actual life, but I’m still in love. There’s something so quintessentially ladylike about it — it makes me want to put on the perfect pump (I have just the ones) and put my hair in a French twist and be off to tea at the soon to be reopened Plaza. I may not follow “Mad Men” enough to know what happened at the end of last season, but even I am susceptible to a little faintly retro charm.  Would someone like to leave me a substantial fortune so that I can lead that life?

I am in the market for a file cabinet.

Yes, that’s right.  This is possibly the least romantic furniture purchase you can make in the years prior to requiring assisted living facilities, but the sad fact is that now that I’m a real adult, I do in fact have paperwork that needs to be kept.  Seven years’ worth of tax documents, insurance papers, lease documents, continuing legal education certificates… yep, that’s some hot stuff.  What can I say, my life is thrills 24/7!

To date, this paperwork has been living in a black plastic crate that I have had for so long that I can’t remember where it came from any more.  While I lived like a student for a good long time after graduating from school, I finally watched one too many hours of HGTV a couple of years ago and have been slowly adding pieces of actual furniture to my apartment ever since.  Although I do have an unparalleled ability to ignore boxes in corners after a month or two, the crate is currently living out in the middle of my living room, which seems a bit much.

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