What's not to love about long, lazy, Sundays? Taking a (what on any other day would be an unpardonably) long time to strap on the feedbag...catch up on the week's newspapers (and blogs)...and rouse yourself out of the stupor enough to run a few errands. This leather-handled, fabric tote from Prada strikes me as the perfect lazy-Sunday-food-run bag...possibly because the fabric is nostalgically reminiscent to that of classic, men's pajamas...

Wishful thinking - belief that wishes correspond with reality: the unrealistic belief that something that is wished for is actually true or will be realized i.e. buying a chambray, short-sleeved, camp shirt...the sort of shirt that demands running barefoot through the grass...getting a brain freeze from that first hit of ice cream...and other such warm weather pastimes. Not snow showers and temperatures barely popping their head above the freezing mark...

I realize that it's a tad early for a Valentine's Day post (even though the local sweet purveyors have been trying to convince me that I need pink candy in my life since about January 1st). Though, technically, this is more of an anti-V Day epistle...as it's a suggestion for the age old question "What do I give the person who dumped me/stood me up/or pulled some other stunt to prove that they were Mr. (or Miss) Wrong?

Why not a heart shaped box of...no, not candy...cuddly, fluffy giant microbes? For what says romantic disdain better than a plush chlamydia or herpes germ?

You never truly appreciate what you have in life...until you no longer have it. A sentiment which could be terribly deep and profound, unless you happen to be talking about ballet flats...which, and at this point I hang my head in shame, I am.

Yet I have to admit that I've been finding it more than a little depressing that, pre-bone-spur-and-walking-cast, I could be found in ballet flats 80% of the time...while post-b-s-a-w-c my footwear choices have been limited to ankle boots or Converse hi-tops. In winter, it wasn't really a problem...but with spring approaching (admittedly currently a blip on the distant horizon) the time had come to get serious about finding a non-ballet flat. Enter the gladi-ballet...lovechild of the ballet flat and gladiator with a hint of S&M and a dash of ladylike polish (the latter, mainly due to the very demure color...a change from my usual black). At the moment, until some significant walking has taken place, I can only say that I'm quietly optimistic...

Another day, another helping of "acceptable color blocking"...this time, a little something for the sofa in your life...

Hyper color...color blocking...call it what you will...the sort of colors that fill you with glee when you lift the lid off a box of Crayolas...and gloom when you try them on in the changing room...are a trend this year. While I can't see myself in the silky, saturated turquoise of Haider Ackermann...or the head to toe canary yellow of Giambattista Valli...this slightly more muted ensemble from Bottega Veneta's pre-Fall collection is a colorful concoction that I could emulate and enjoy.

Today's thrilling installment, "the test of time and the dollar bill"...

Back in August...when I first cast virtual eyes upon Phillip Lim's reversible tweed/shearling duffle coat I was...rather smitten. It was expensive...alright, it was very expensive...but the rationalization of two coats in one led to a fair bit of internet stalking...and a large-ish degree of disappointment when it sold out. Fast forward to yesterday...and the dying embers of Barney's winter sale...random, picked-over garments laying on racks...begging to be given a good home...and waving their 75% off tags around as an added inducement.

And in their midst was the shearling...well, two actually, but only one in my size. I admired it for a while on the hanger...then dashed off to the changing room...put it on...and waited for angels to start singing...but, instead, there was a sort of "oh well, it's alright I suppose" kind of feeling. I called Mr. Heb in for a consultation..."you look like a teddy bear that's been dragged behind a car". Not the look I was going for...

The thwarted buying impulse was very reasonably satisfied at H&M...where the sale bin yield a chunky, wood and brass cuff...for one dollar.

A week into the cleanse, and here I am writing about "the sweet stuff". Not, I hasten to add, an indication of my state of mind...as I've managed to get to this point of my detox journey remarkably craving-free. What's that I hear? Cries of "famous last words". In all likelihood, you're probably right...but, be that as it may, my mind was clear of all thoughts of the wine, cheese, and chocolate variety...until I spotted a blast-from-the-past...in the form of rather charming glass jars stuffed with all the boiled sweet goodness that I used to indulge in as a child. Now I find my mind wallowing in a sea of thoughts of the rhubarb and custard...sherbert pips...and cola cubes variety.

Though it's pretty much acknowledged that Fashion (capital F) can come up with a myriad of shiny (though essentially useless) baubles for us to spend our hard earned pennies on I think I may have stumbled upon a winner (in the "unwearable...and I mean that in the literal sense" category).

Ladies and gents, please step forward and say hello to Martin Margiela's miniature jacket. Standing a mere 16" tall it is, according to the label inside, a "collector's item"...yet I can't help feeling that the un-named collector could probably find a slightly better investment for their $600...

Santa's visit to the Hebden hacienda was a little late this year. I blame all those mince pies and cookies...the fact that Rudolph, at his advanced age, has to be moving a little more slowly these days...and that Christmas, this year, was coming from Holland (well, the gift portion at least). Sad to say, it had reached the stage where I was beginning to think that the Grinch had finally managed to succeed in his felonious aspirations...or that the post office (aka Santa's Not So Helpful Little Helper) had lost my package.

Then, suddenly, it arrived...a walnut iWood...whose classic form is the perfect juxtaposition to all that technological wizardry crammed inside the phone. The icing on this particular slice of Christmas cake...the buttons for sound levels...or to turn the phone off...are also carved from wood....a detail that's immensely pleasing.

It's been a while since the old Hebden noggin was brightly hued...I blame the emotional (and, truth be told, physical and architectural) damage that occurred when I decided that I wanted to emulate AstroTurf. At the end of the exercise, my hair...the bathroom sink...both hands...several towels...and various other sundry objects that I came into contact with before being dry...were the color that lifts the hearts of miniature golfers and leprechauns. A bright, brilliant, green.

The urge lingers though. The flame...though somewhat dampened by past experiences (I won't even mention the lilac shade that looked lovely in the bottle and disturbingly "old lady rinse" on the head)...was rekindled by the sight of Charlie le Mindu's pink lollipop wig (a little number he knocked up for Selfridges as part of their Bright Young Things collection). The demure cut...and candy cane coloring...are intriguing. The thought of what could happen in a strong wind...slightly off-putting. To wig...or not to wig...that is the question?

Except Annie was a little off-base on this one...tomorrow, in this instance, is scheduled to be the sort of gray, bitterly cold, "is that freezing rain or snow that I feel sliding down the back of my neck?" kind of day that makes you want to pull the covers over your head and wait for the gods to show a little mercy. Not the kind of day when you need...or should be spending much time thinking about...sunglasses. Yet, here we are.

I blame Janz & Cooper's handcrafted, acetate-rimmed frames. Though only recently launched...and with a (some would say meager) three frame styles...there are more than enough color options to while away a winter afternoon...

It's been a while...it was obviously time for a post about Karl Lagerfeld ephemera...or skulls. The coin was tossed...and it came down "heads". Except...this time the skulls aren't human...they're beaver...raccoon...and skunk...made from matte porcelain...and have 23k gold glaze teeth (that's right, they have grills).

The work of designer Christine Facella, a science illustrator for the Vertebrate Paleontology department at the Museum of Natural History in New York, the skulls are classic and modern...macabre and sweet...and would, I think, be a rather spiffy addition to any abode.

Dream wardrobe number...let me see...I must be up in the hundreds at this point...each vaguely linked by a sense of twisted, punk-ish femininity. Probably why Balenciaga's pre-Fall collection is the stuff that my current day dreams are made of.

There's nothing quite like the sudden realization that the blog post you could swear you wrote...and which you were confident was nestling quietly on your blog...was a mere will-o'-the-wisp, a wraith, a ghost of your imagination. My excuse...and what will be used as a standard excuse for any show of ditsy-ness over the next three weeks...is that (despite my end of year claims towards moderation) I decided that a 21 day cleanse was just the thing to while away those grey end-of-January-beginning-of-February days.

There'll be no time to whine about the weather...or mull over how many layers are needed to maintain feeling in my extremities...I'll be too busy trying to decide if my morning "shake" should be "chocolate" or "vanilla" or trying to find something from the restricted lunchtime food options that will make quinoa vaguely palatable (today's "pilaf" being not quite the taste sensation that I had envisioned). And yes, in case you're wondering, all quotation marks are being used sarcastically.

The best case scenario come mid-February is a sort of re-set...where my body forgives me for all of the junk that I have been throwing into it when I travel. Worst case scenario...I go insane. On a positive note, the cocktail shaker...instead of being unemployed for the next three weeks...makes a perfect jumbo straw holder (the multi-colored plastic tube being a necessary component of any self-respecting "shake").

There's a long...cold (was I hallucinating or did I read somewhere that this will be the coldest January in the US for quite some time?)...dark...and, in all likelihood, more than a little dreary...winter ahead of us. And while some may be jetting off to warmer climes, this little Heb is stuck in the deep freeze...lusting over hats that, while beautiful, are completely unnecessary for the foreseeable future.

Namely...Anya Hindmarch's straw trilby...the trilby having just the right amount of jaunty attitude...the straw being woven into a lace-like pattern...the whole being surrounded by grosgrain ribbon in the sort of shades that demand to be accompanied by a large ice-cream sundae.

The following probably isn't in the least bit amusing...and is, in all likelihood, in terrible taste...unless...you grew up in Scotland...near a world famous golf course...and spent your formative years surrounded by bogey-men (VERY bad golf joke...sorry) wearing a mis-matched selection of plaids, tweeds, and eye-searingly bright colors.

In which case, Pringle of Scotland's Hung Golfer sweater...designed with Alex Kapranos of Franz Ferdinand as part of Pringle's 195th Anniversary collaborations...will raise a little chortle.

Those of you with a decent-ish short-term memory may recall that item #1 on the 2011 Hebden To-Do List was "Attempt to refine...declutter...and generally pare down...all the detrius that a seasoned horder, such as myself, can accrue". One of the specific things that I've been "accruing"...and having a hard time "storing in a vaguely sane manner" has been jewelry.

A state of affairs which is in the process of being changed...thanks to a very nerdy, very small, filing cabinet. I've been lusting over Bisley's 5-drawer cabinet (in the same graphite shade that I painted the interior of my closet) for a while now. It took a sale at The Container Store to make it mine.

Add some drawer organizers...begin the sorting process (earrings...rings...disco ball...Chanel)...and, suddenly, I almost feel organized.

Next business trip...when I'm stuck in some God-forsaken airport (thanks to snowstorm, last minute seat repairs, or other act of God)...I want to emulate the In Transit editorial from the February issue of UK Vogue.

Headphones, dark glasses, and puffy neck pillow on...head resting on Celine bag ("cute, chiseled chin man" having to check his email through the bag straps)...who am I kidding? It's going to be my usual "scrunched into uncomfortable seat...Starbucks in one hand...iPhone showing email/Angry Birds/vintage Scooby Doo episode in the other. A girl can dream though...

I've been wanting...for quite some time now...in an admittedly rather vague, "let's not rush things" kind of way...to start wearing a vintage African wire bracelet that has been languishing (generally unworn) in my jewelry box since my mid-teens. Memory fades as to where it came from...but I remember falling for it...and its potential history...the moment I laid eyes on it.

Unfortunately, it was too thin to wear on its own...and managed to fade into obscurity when worn with anything else. Until now...when sandwiched between two (extremely inexpensive) bracelets from (insert groan and "oh God, not again" here) Cost Plus...it gains a certain gravity.

Call it what you like...stealth wealth...ostentatious non-display...or the greatest pencil case known to mankind...is it possible to resist the allure of this detail from the inside of Lou Doillon's black tuxedo jacket?

Though the above quote is beautiful...and unassailably true...I'm going to follow up with the immortal words of Yogi Bear, "Hey Boo Boo. Take a look at that Pic-a-nic Basket..."

Not just any PB, of course. You'd need to pull out all the stops on the old ant fodder (aka the sandwiches, hard boiled eggs, etc that are standard when one is applying checkered blanket to grass with the general idea of dining) if you were taking Hermès wicker Kelly bag with you. I'm thinking (as I so often do) of Harrods' be-truffled ham and mozzarella baguette...or their equally alluring crayfish BLT...and a half bottle of a nice dry, chilled, white wine...but I'm open to suggestions...and the funding to make this dream a reality...

It's not a very exciting topic. In fact...to be honest...I can't actually believe I'm writing this...but, wallowing deep in the grips of my current (almost evangelical) fervor in relation to spring cleaning (don't worry...this sickness occurs every year and will fade shortly)...I'm positively thrilled to find something that is:

• Fast
• Effective
• Inexpensive
• And, perhaps most importantly as I find the smell of "fake freshness" particularly unappealing, odor free

At this point I may be the only person on earth who had yet to spend a little quality time with Mr. Clean (or his rather off-puttingly named Spanish counterpart "Don Limpio") and his Magic Eraser but, now that I have, I find myself pacing around the apartment...like a hitman in some particularly banal 1950's film noir...looking for a stain to "rub out".

To continue upon what seems to be this week's theme...if resolutions (or their arch-nemesis, "non-resolutions")...don't need to start on January 1st...why should the calendar? And why should it record anything as mundane as appointments and reminders (a task handled far more efficiently by iCal)?

No...let the year start when you want it to...and let its sole purpose be to record (via smiley...frown face...or all manner of straight line drawing in between)...How was your day?

Non-resolution number three was a catch-all for everything...and anything...that would make day-to-day life a little better...and brighter.

Like...fresh flowers. Something that I've been buying more of recently...but the purchase of which has only highlighted the lack of interesting vases in my life. Enter style director...interior designer...set designer...Shane Power's Neolithic Vessels collection for West Elm. The almost non-color, classical lines work well for those weeks when I'm too busy/lazy to buy flowers....the matte grey finish, an excellent counterpoint to vibrantly hued blooms.

The drawing is from Powers' blog...the other pictures, from one of my "too lazy to go buy flowers" days...

For most of us, the holiday's are over...normal service will now resume...the nine-to-five world beckons with a wizened digit that brings to mind Death from The Family Guy (cynical much...moi?).

Striving for an upside...where there is work, there is a work wardrobe. As someone for whom work equals the need to carry round miscellaneous pieces of paper, pens, and assorted other oddments that may become useful in the blink of an eye...work equals pockets. The bigger the pockets, the more potentially useful items you can haul around with you (yes, I know that a bag would be easier...but it would constantly look like I was about to make a break for it). With this particular skirt I am in useful pocket heaven...

In general, I treat New Year's Resolutions as the social pariah's which, let's face it, they are...full of promise and optimism during the first week of January...they start to disappoint mid-February...and hit their guilt-inducing peak somewhere around mid-March. This year, however...more from luck than good management...there are some things that I want to give a little more attention to this year. I'm not calling them NYR's...they're more of a 2011 to do list...

1. Attempt to refine...declutter...and generally pare down...all the detrius that a seasoned horder, such as myself, can accrue
2. Add a little light exercise to the Hebden regime..."light" being the operative word...we're not talking marathons here...more a soupcon of pilates every now and then
3. A general hodge podge category, falling under the heading of "taking better care of myself"...a few fewer cocktails...a few more home cooked meals that involve fresh produce...

When written down I'll admit that my list does closely resemble a stack of resolutions except...there is no immediate start date.  If February rolls around and I've only managed to attend one exercise class...or found a new and exciting recipe for artichokes...I'll be happy...for it'll be an improvement on where I was before...

For all the glitter requirements that attend New Year's Eve an additional set exists that are a virtual necessity for New Year's Day..."glittery" black coffee..."glittery dry toast"...and something to amuse yourself with that requires no thought, and very little movement.  Thankfully this year's stocking-stuffer...the monkey in a snow globe...fits the bill.