How is it suddenly almost New Year's Eve? One second it was Halloween...the next, Christmas...and now, chubby little baby New Year is sneaking up on me in a most depressing manner.

I had meant to write...when the festive celebrations seemed to loll around on the distant horizon...about this elegant little linen and tulle skirt. Thanks to my tardiness, it's too late for a 2010 party purchase...but something as timeless would surely be a perfect layaway piece for future holidays that creep up on one...unawares...

It's the kind of thing that makes me wish that I wasn't kicked out of the girl guides...for conduct unbecoming a wearer of the brown dress (am I the only one who thinks of P.G. Wodehouse's "black shorts" when I read that sentence?)...my crime...objecting (rather vocally, I'll admit) to being forced to practice Scottish sword dancing whilst wearing a pair of ballet slippers. One slip...and it's the worst papercut of your life...

However staying with the guides would, presumably, have given me the skills to tie a decent knot...preferably in leather...and affix it to a little brass and rose gold...

The blurb read "Begin wedded bliss in style with Lanvin's white glazed canvas suitcase with silver-tone hardware and printed honeymoon accessories"...to my double-entendre-sodden-Brit-mind the term "honeymoon accessories" conjures up something...entertaining...not a tote bag, pareo, and pompom-embellished raffia flip flops.

As we're still officially in "snacking season"...which will be followed quickly by "the season of regrets"...and "the period of gym attendance thanks to excessive guilt"...I thought I'd sing the praises of a snack food that is (gasp) relatively healthy AND tastily addictive.

The snack in question is...(drum roll, please)...Trader Joe's Organic Popcorn with Olive Oil. Boasting...according to the packaging...nothing more than organic popcorn, olive oil, and sea salt...it is snack crack (and this from a woman, who, in the regular run of things prefers her corn as nature intended...on the cob).

The Christmas story continues...otherwise known as "what was in that rather snazzily wrapped package you mentioned yesterday?"... If you're anything like me you hesitate when buying something several seasons old...not, I hasten to add, because the item in question is no longer "in"...but because there's the fear that said item has been bought and returned a good many times by this point and is looking a little the worse for wear. The concern is doubled when you haven't shopped from a particular store before...and (in this version of fashion math) you add an extra ten points if the item you're contemplating buying is light in color, and therefore liable to show the dirt.

Which is why, I suppose, I hemmed and hawed so much over the striped scarf. Even though I'm a fan of French label, Heimstone, the scarf...at full price...was too expensive. First reductions took place...and still I hesitated. By the time a second round of reductions came by I was concerned that it would be looking a little ratty.

Reckless abandon...and a cocktail whilst browsing online...caused me to hit the buy button. To...after the delay of said package winging its way across the Atlantic...enthuse over Amélie Boutique's packaging...and...to be amazed by the pristine condition of "the scarf". Perhaps no one else wanted it, but my fear of "dinginess thanks to a series of folks returning it" has not come true...

I'm not even going to discuss what was in it...I'll leave that for another day...instead I'll focus on the packaging (which must have gladdened my mailman's heart as much as it did mine). Turquoise bubble envelope...sealed with a rather snazzy black and white polka dot tape. As this was my first purchase from Amélie Boutique I don't know if this is their regular packaging...or a "let's make things extra nice for Christmas" wrap...either way, it was special enough to be placed under the tree in the envelope it crossed the Atlantic in...a refreshing change in a world of brown cardboard boxes and bland anonymity...

If you've been reading this blog for a while now you'll know that Christmas, to me, means an excess of good food and drink...a selection of "vintage" British Christmas specials thrown into the DVD player...and games. Also, let's be honest, it usually includes a few tons of tinsel and glitter. Which is why, this year, I'm going against the grain with a positively restrained version of tiddlywinks...let's call them Philo-winks...with Phoebe as the "squidger"...and colors from Céline's collection for next spring as the "winks".

Full rules can be found here...along with what it means to shoot a boondock, scrunge, or gromp. Just print out...stick onto cardboard...cut out...start playing...and discover that it's just about time to gather round the festive chicken/pork loin/roast beef.

Merry Christmas! Wishing you, and yours, a happy...healthy...and prosperous 2011.

The following hit my mailbox earlier today...

The (decidedly unsubtle) inference being..."you'd better spend your Christmas day shopping online if you want to snag those bargains". Shopping on baby J's birthday...is nothing sacred?

Answers on a candy cane shaped postcard, please.

Snow falling...the night (alright, day) before Christmas...the bare minimum of food rattling around the fridge...and very little thought given to the question of what to eat over the Christmas/Boxing day festivities. Or does the idea of vacuously staring at the aisles in the supermarket, waiting for inspiration to hit, count as "preparation"?

Just about the time I should be hunkering down by the Christmas tree with a copy of The I Hate to Cook Book (50th Anniversary Edition) and a selection of take-out menus...

You realize that you may, just potentially, have signed up for one too many store's email list when...a couple of days before Christmas...your mailbox is deluged with "hey you lazy bum, this is your last chance to buy something and have it actually arrive in time for Christmas" emails. Or maybe I find it irritating because, this year, my Christmas shopping is actually done...

Of course, even more galling...if you handed over the necessary spondooliks for a "must have" aviator jacket a mere couple of months ago...is The Telegraph's "Christmas sale guide: what to avoid". For aviator's will be...per The T...the "ultimate no-no" come next Spring/Summer. Of course, whether that is due to the whims and caprices of Fashion (capital F)...or the difficulty of maneuvering through the summer streets swaddled in the better part of a herd of sheep...is up for debate...

During my teens the following...and the lure of becoming a "Joseph girl"...would have caused shrieks of excitement...a lot of "oh my God"-ing...and an (almost certainly cringe-worthingly embarrassing) phone call. Who am I kidding...my inner voice let out a little "eek!" of excitement as I read it just now...just as well that I am no longer UK-based...and can therefore save myself from a current bout of embarrassing phone-call-itis.

While it's undeniable that, unless you've invested in a crystal ball, your vision of the future is sketchy at best...a girl can dream. Specifically, of rabbit fur...luxurious "sweatshirts"...and all the bits and bobs that make Philip Lim's 2011 pre-Fall collection the stuff that next year's dreams are made of...

Given that you need to register to view its price...and it's being sold by a gallery in a rather swank area of London...this Louis Vuitton snow globe couldn't conceivably be deemed a "stocking stuffer"...but it is a rather festive little blighter, isn't it?

If, like me, you're getting a tad sick of holly...mistletoe...and other associated festive flora...may I say a good word for miniature calla lilies? Colorful...yet soothingly muted...almost architectural in form...and demanding absolutely nothing in the way of TLC (a must for someone, like me, who can assassinate a cactus). A perfect blend of equal parts...tranquility and indestructibility...with nary a "Ho, Ho, Ho" in sight.

I imagine Racquel Welch's character in One Million Years B.C. wearing this coat...right about the time she gave up fighting dinosaurs and indulging in a little creative cave painting to get a real job. She didn't want to give up the whole "dead animals strapped around torso" look...yet wanted something a little more professional and ladylike. Yep, that's what I imagine...clearly I need to get out more...

You often hear about natural resources being squandered...oil...coal...the rain forests...but there's one n.r. that is rarely mentioned...grannies. Or, to be specific, grannies who knit...and who, having clothed all their various relatives in copious quantities of woolen goods, are now at somewhat of a loose end.

Enter Grannies, Inc...a British company that has gathered together a crack team of grannies...who wait, poised with needle and wool, to hand knit you the snood (scarf, beanie, etc) of your dreams...or, if not your dreams, your specifications vis-a-vis color and stitch.

It's a shame that this video looks like Robert Palmer's Addicted to Love girls are relaxing after a hard day playing air guitar...because it makes it difficult to fully appreciate Malcolm McClaren's take on Puccini's Madame Butterfly...

None of which...as is my rambling way...really has anything to do with the delightful simplicity of James Perse's framed bolero (apart from it's vaguely Lepidoptera-ish back view)...except that I find them both charming, in their own way...

Four little words...they could be "I love you...deeply" and, in a way, they are...for that was what I felt when I read the description of Sofia Coppola's outfit in an article in the January issue of UK Vogue...but, moreover, those four little words were a summation of my ultimate wardrobe. Casual...witty...chic...expensive(?). Alright, I disagree with the 4th word being an absolute necessity but, as they say, "three out of four ain't bad".

I'm still trying to decide what makes these Christmas crackers...at least, according to Selfridges' website..."hip". Could it be the neon colors? The £65 ($102) price tag? Or that fact that they're too "hip" to let us know what's inside* the darned things?

By rights, I should have posted this yesterday but I was a mite...polluted. No, that's too circumspect...I had the Exxon Valdez of hangovers...a dark, inky pool of regret and recrimination...that required intravenous drips of chicken soup and sparkling water interspersed with bouts of sleep and blankly staring at the walls.

The cause...a fabulously festive bash...held on a seasonally appropriate evening where the weather was destined to swing from rain to sleet to snow to freezing temperatures. In other words, a night where the sensible thing to do is put on your pajamas and sit by the radiator...not try to decide which of your party duds will keep you warm and dry.

The final choice...a stiff, black, silk maxi skirt (similar to the one below in terms of cut)...was surprisingly utilitarian. It could be gathered in one hand whilst negotiating puddles...proved effective in blocking the chill winds...and, most importantly, allowed me to wear my day-to-day boots without anyone being any the wiser. The latter enabling me to feel slightly smug as I watched stiletto shod party go-ers first attempting to wade through slush earlier in the evening and stand upright on the ice rink that the streets and sidewalks turned into as the evening progressed.

The rest of the "You be colorful, I'll be warm and gothic and vaguely reminiscent of a raven" ensemble...ALC cashmere cardigan with leather pailettes...Pamela Love talon cuff...Hermes Constance handbag...Frye Chelsea boots...Banana Republic spike stud earrings...

Vintage Chanel jewelry is generally not known for its subtlety...I say this as the somewhat dubious owner of a pair of 4" long gilded and pearl bedecked Baroque cherub earrings. If they were brooches, which I think I may have to convert them into, I could see wearing them...but earrings that are bigger than your actual ears are a hard sell, for me at least.

Which is why I was (pleasantly) surprised to see this relatively subdued bracelet from the late 90's...alright, so it's technically not "vintage"...but is is rather lovely, don't you think?

Every so often, usually when I'm feeling a little down, I'll muse on the need to add more Color (capital "C", luminously bright) into my wardrobe...and generally, when I'm feeling a bit perkier, I realize that deep down I'm a black-grey-muddy-tones-with-shots-of-red-or-navy-or-green kind of girl. Which is why I'm hesitant on how to greet the news, from Pantone HQ, that 2011 is all about honeysuckle...or, as they put it, "A dynamic reddish pink, Honeysuckle is encouraging and uplifting. It elevates our psyche beyond escape, instilling the confidence, courage and spirit to meet the exhaustive challenges that have become part of everyday life."...it even, they continue, encourages us "to face everyday troubles with verve and vigour". Blimey...

I have to say...right off the bat...that the image above is not of my hand...my manicure is self-done...and I, along with many kindergartners, have a problem coloring outside the lines. The color though, Chanel's Rouge Fatal, is currently residing on my digits. The deep red is the perfect antidote to the "I don't know what to wear to the party tonight" blues...my outfit may be thrown together but at least my nails will look "done".

Back in my mid-teens...a time when every kid is looking for a way to augment their pocket money...I made teddybears. Comfortingly pudgy...6" tall...tweed teddybears...which, despite their slight lopsidedness and generally homemade appearance, sold rather well. Until now these manifestations of a childhood sewing fixation were embedded in the darkest reaches of my memory...a virtual attic where things are stored under the theory that "they may become useful one day".

They were yanked into the forefront of my mind, however, when I caught sight of Erdem's dachshund...the same wonkyiness and general DIY aspect...all for (and here's where the similarity ends) the somewhat alarming pricetag of $270. I think I need to try and find my old sewing patterns...

There are times, shopping-wise, when you're "bad"...then there are times that you wander so far into the realm of shopping madness that you leave bad behind in the dust and move quickly onto "deranged". Friends, I had a deranged day. Lured by Barney's sale signs...intoxicated by a recent run of work...I went a little mad (small, freckle-faced children and sweet little old ladies may have been knocked out of the way and trampled by my progress...I can't remember).

It started, as these things so often do, in the handbag department...my evil nemesis...craftily placed on the ground floor so that it's impossible to move from points "A" to "B" in the store without, however unwittingly, "browsing". Pride...the little swine who pushes you into the void just when you're about to take a careless step...had me mentally patting myself on the back...as I headed into the final straight...towards the elevators...and saw "it". The butter-y soft black leather and dark red lining screaming "ladylike"...the square stud on each handle and triple zips running the length of the bag yelling "punk" in return...the juxtaposition that I love (and find myself returning to over-and-over again) and...it was Céline. I wavered...I vacillated...I picked it up...I put it down...I picked it up again and sauntered over to the mirror. I even put it on hold so that I could walk around for a few hours and try to regain the tattered vestiges of my sanity. Then I walked back and bought it.

That's the point when a sane person...not one caught up in deranged day celebrations (like Christmas, but with fewer decorations and more self-gifting)...would have left the store. I got on the elevator...

Dear Cynthia Rowley, I'm not going to hold it against you that your website didn't work (twice) and my order failed to go through...because that gave me the opportunity to meet new people...call round your boutiques...and find one (in my area) that had the dress. What I am going to hold against you is the fact that the sales associate in your store...when I voiced my skepticism that the dress I'd just tried on was the dress told me that (and I quote), "the picture on our website was from the runway, you can't expect the dress to be the same." A sentiment to which I'd normally agree, IF (and it's a pretty big, capitalization worthy if) it wasn't used in your e-store because then...right about the time I'm handing over my hard-earned scheckels...I expect the picture to be pretty darned accurate. Not, as in this instance, the rather major discrepancy between knee-length and ladylike...and...80's pouffy mini-skirt with god-awful 6" band across the stomach. A style which (once again quoting the S.A.) "hasn't looked good on anybody." Yours, in frustration,

Yesterday...as I window shopped and veered between imminent hypothermia (outside) and heatstroke (once inside the stores)...I spotted racks of the H&M/Lanvin collaboration lurking just inside the doors of my local H&M. Including...deep breath...the over-the-top tulle number which (up until that moment) I'd believed to be completely sold out (unless I'd wanted to pay an eBay shark's mortgage for the next couple of months). Yet, there it was...ten or so of the crimson version...and an equal number of the dark gray. Naturally, I had to try it...

Dear readers...it was like the sugar plum fairy had exploded. Acres of cheap tulle (the kind that makes you wary of going within 6 feet of an open flame)...a dress that photographs beautifully (you'll see that it even looks good in my iffy iPhone photos) yet looks disturbingly cheap in real life...one of those purchases that, at $249 plus tax, would be regretted almost immediately and spend the rest of its life taking up space in your closet as a reminder of "bad purchases of Christmas past".

I realize that this constant harping on about chills isn't attractive...I mean, you rarely read a celebrity interview where they're whining about the windchill...probably because they're leaping from limo to centrally-heated luxury like the lords on the 10th day of Christmas. For the rest of us...especially those of us with quaint, original, and (let's face it) ill-fitting doors...the wind not only "comes whistling down the plain" but every other locality as well. Which is probably why I find myself ogling Wish's draught excluders...a far cry from the unsightly selection at hardware stores...their mix of plaid and leather makes me feel as warm and cozy as the proverbial bug in a rug...

It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas...well, it would if I could muster the enthusiasm to do anything more than drag the bag of decorations out of the closet...actually chucking up the tinsel is going to take some time...

But...the festive season means festive parties...questions of the "what to wear?" variety...and the pondering of inane articles about bare legs in winter. I use the "i" word because, with the average temperature this week hovering around the 25 degree mark, I get chilblains merely pondering stepping outside sans opaque tights.

All of which means...I'm curious...do those of you who live in colder climes actually ever go bare around the lower limb area in winter...or is this purely the result of a few intrepid New Yorkers (with limos) hanging out with one too many fashion journalists?

Normally, all I ask for in a bottle opener is that it fulfills its primary function...in the case of these wood and brass numbers though I'd be happy to mix business with pleasure...

Travel + work + the urge to sleep for a week + snow falling outside the window = the sudden realization that all my pre-written posts ended yesterday...well, that and that the only food in the house was of the "airplane peanut found in handbag" variety. Time for patchwork tweed coats...fur-lined Fudd hats...emergency grocery shopping...miniature snowmen...and very quick posts...

Despite being afflicted with, as Julius Caesar might have said on a bad hair day, "ignavus decor"...or "lazy beauty" as the slightly less fastidious Britons would have called it...I am currently under the spell of a piece of beauty impedimentia...to be more precise, a Complexion Brush. Discovered at Whole Foods whilst I was foraging for the Thanksgiving chicken...and celebratory brussel sprouts...I am addicted. For brush + a small squirt of Kiehl's Foaming Non-Detergent Washable Cleanser = an almost angelic sense of cleanliness (and a marked reduction in pore size).