Confessions of A (young) Old-Fashioned Girl in NYC

So living and working in New York City means riding the subway is a reality of my daily existence. Although I consider myself professionably successful, I prefer to be fashionally frugal, which means opting to to walk most of the time from my very convenient 5th Avenue crib.

I suspect most New Yorkers have the prototypical cab addiction — as necessary to survival as their Grande-Skinny-Caramel-Macch-Double-Shot-Espresso running through their veins.  Those who have really made it (think: expense account) have personal drivers or, at minimum, a car service ride to cruise around town.

Being content as a subway sojourner, I’m left to observe my fellow travelers, specifically the real vs. fake designer bag toters. The reality of the real designer bag market is that they are essentially ‘affordable luxury’ starting at a tempting $300. My personal definition of luxury is to have something unique that is not on the arms of a thousand others.  But seriously, if you can afford to spend $2,000 on a bag, shouldn’t you be able to afford to be above ground in a towncar? I’m of the old-school philosophy that you do not spend what you do not have. So, are they dropping $2K on credit? Are they scraping every last dime to have a Speedy? Are they gifts of ‘benefit boyfriends’?

As for the fly girls who are carrying fake louis vuitton bags dressed in H&M…who do you think you are kidding?  Go buy yourself something unique this weekend — that reflects who you really are or aspire to be.  It can be a vintage, it can be new…. but if it’s fake, ask yourself:  "Why Am I Buying This?"  And if your current purse doesn’t allow for expenditures , trade a former fave with a close friend. Won’t cost you a dime but you’ll appreciate it so much more!

Confessions of A (young) Old-Fashioned Girl in NYC
is written by our newest hireheel: Alexandra Greenawalt “Gucci Gal”
a fashion stylist working and living in New York City.
visit her at alexandrastylist.com

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There is certainly no shortage of opinion, analysis
and satire surrounding the recent flu outbreak
panning the globe.

Who’s responsible?

Who knows and who will ever know? If the U.S
Government possessed intel suggesting, for
example, a Mexican drug cartel or Jihadist juiced up
on steroids released said bio-weapon in a mayhem-
mired Mexico, they wouldn’t divulge it anyway.
Americans are quite accustomed to being left in the
dark on this and similar panic-prone events, giving
way to a blogosphere that swings from the
“reasonably rational” to the “ridiculously radical.”

How do we protect ourselves?

(From the flu or the flacks?) I have no advice for
you on avoiding the contraction of Swine Flu. I will
leave that to the experts and those are NOT political
pundits. And yes, I’m still referring to suddenly
famous virus by it’s viral name, despite the rabid
campaign by pork industry lobbyists to rebrand it
Novel Flu Virus or it’s more scientific H1N1. (W.H.O.
may be an authority on viral transmission, but not
in the context of new and social media… Consider the
successful rebranding of the unexpected Barracuda
with a cleverly calculated “Lipstick On A Pig”
campaign).

Do not allow the political talking heads to sway
you one way in favor of furthering their own
agenda. And in the end, recognize that lobbyists do
have more power than the average citenzry because
of media access (and limitless expense accounts).
But as taxpayers, we represent far
more money collectively. In conclusion, we are left
to our intuition, common sense and available
information. Though difficult, try not to
allow helplessness and cynicism to dictate your
thinking and behavior.

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Robert Gibbs would be better off ‘oinking’ when he opens his mouth rather than utter the useless statements he and his communications team are crafting at the White House.

As stories spread globally – nearly as fast as the “eeuhh-flu” itself,  the “glandularly-challenged” press sec. weighs in by saying it was “far too early to determine” whether there will be an economic impact from the outbreak.

Who gives a pig’s tail about economic impact?

The spread of Swine Flu is clearly urgent and reaching pandemic proportions.  Maybe our government officials need to cause a little panic to underscore its seriousness so Pigs Don’t Fly! You cannot cover-up what is already airborne.

Mr. Gibbs, unless those students from a New York Catholic school visited the local pig petting zoo while in Mexico, I’d say you’d best go back to the "PEN!"

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WHAT’S TORTURE TO YOU??

– waking up in my own bed after a 10-day biz trip and realizing I have no coffee filters
– watching swimsuit competition of Miss U.S.A. pageant after 10 days of in-room dining and 10 nights without pilates

– watching the agony in wheelchair marathoner jay pisano’s face as he inched backwards across the finish line – shaking in 42 degree rain – with only the power of his right foot and hand
– having to see dick cheney’s face in the news all over again
– having to hear the words “abu ghraib” in the news all over again
– what obama must be going through every time he sees blago’s face in the news all over again
– walking in my stiletto boots with blisters in five places
– constipation – when i’m already late for a date
– wanting to return my third mattress in three months
– “mothering” a ceo for five years who won’t return the favor by fathering my child
– hearing my 72 year old aunt got scammed for $990 over the telephone
– emailing a press release to the Boston Globe and Boston Herald to the response of dozens of “mailer-daemons”
– Inability to find my highly accomplished friends jobs
– sex via sms?
– looking at the piles of paper on my desk
– hearing former boyfriend (now a stable judge) say: “If I met you now, I’d marry you”
– trying to drown out next-door neighbor’s wee-hour-debauchery with a meditation cd
– having a thousand ‘hireheels’ posts in my head and no time to write one

what’s your torture, hireheelers?

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I support same-sex marriage, but Perez Hilton needs to STFU.

Seriously, Perez. DO S.T.F.U.

Your admonishment of Miss California Carrie Prejean for giving her honest opinion to your provocative, loaded gun, ticking time bomb of a question about same-sex marriage wasn’t just completely unhinged and uncalled for, but it totally backfired. Congratulations Perez, you scored a two-fer! Your public flogging of a wholesome beauty queen not only put a very ugly face on those of us who support same-sex marriage, but it also made Ms Prejean into a sympathetic public figure and gave her a bigger platform that she can use to espouse her views. Way to go, a-squeen!

You don’t believe me? Pop quiz: What is the name of the woman who won the Miss USA pageant? (Please, no Googling.)

Don’t know? Yeah, me neither. I think she’s from North Carolina.

Anyhow, since the brouhaha, Carrie Prejean has been all over the place stating her case against same-sex marriage, and she’s doing it in a calm, rational manner that is way more appealing to fence-sitters than the rabid, reactionary tone that you had after the pageant. She’s winning the message war, Perez, and it’s all your fault.

Oh, and by the way Perez, here’s a breaking newsflash for you: her position is identical to that of President Obama, Vice President Hairplug, and even our gal Hill, whom you supported during the primaries. Are you going to call each of them a “stupid b—ch” too?

I support same-sex marriage, and I don’t like it when members of the religious right try to use the Bible to justify things that make them uncomfortable. After all, according to Leviticus, God hates shrimp too. But your assault against Miss California is unjust. She didn’t plan to use the pageant to become the poster child for Proposition 8. She simply answered your question, a question you posed to promote an agenda rather than to help judge a beauty pageant. You’re only persecuting her because the answer that she gave wasn’t what you wanted to hear. Apparently Perez, you think that tolerance is a one-way street that can only be walked by those who agree with you. Your question and subsequent YouTube rant did nothing to help further our cause. Instead, it gave the other side more ammunition to use against us, and it may have forever alienated those who were previously undecided.

Perez, you f—ked up and did our cause more harm than good. Now go back to making crude drawings atop pictures of celebrities, and for the love of Liza, Barbara, and Kathy Griffin, please STFU.

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The house lights dimmed, the music came up… Ms. Boyle opened her mouth to sing, while the audience, preemptively wincing, held their collective breaths… Then it happened… Perfect pitch, the voice quality of an angel… The formerly hostile gaggle of onlookers rose to their feet in a boisterous whoop of an ovation. This ‘never-been-kissed’ songstress realized her dream and has ultimately inspired a nation (and the world).

So what’s the point, right? Spinster gets record contract…? A great headline to be sure, but… NO… Susan Boyle inspires us because she believed in herself. She stood tall against incredible odds and made it happen… Yes it’s inspirational alright… BUT the point is… Why were the odds so incredible in the first place?!? A woman with a remarkable gift is, up until now, not permitted or at least limited from sharing it with the world, because of her appearance… Should whether a woman is tall or tiny— blonde, brunette or bald have any bearing on her ability to sing, write, paint or be POTUS?!? Thank you Susan Boyle for giving us all a much needed wake-up call.

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On Consignment by Hireheeler ‘Back Bay Style’

Years ago, when I told a friend I was heading out for leg wax, she blurted, “I thought that was something only rich women do!” True enough, thought I…

I’d first heard of waxing from a tony gal, that I met during my ten years living amongst the “HENRY’s,”— High Earning, Not Yet Rich. When I returned to the world of forty-something single women, I could not give up my indulgence— it does hurt (on the bod and in the pocketbook) to be beautiful. I had no problem leaving the big house, the vacations and the pricey dinners out behind, but my penchant for smooth, sexy gams and properly positioned show seats could never be denied…

I expected things to be a bit tough, beginning on the bottom rung of the professional ladder at age 41. But, as long as I could meet a friend for a light bite, afford to see a few shows a year and do so with silky, smooth legs— I never really missed being part of the affluent class. Well even preferred pampering needs to be dialed back in a crisis… Eventually, I was forced to get out the shaving cream. Natch, I still “get thee to the spa” for a proper wax, when a decent paycheck comes in.

Somewhere, during the past several years, monthly living expenses skyrocketed. Socializing became a burden. I was working as a professional, but didn’t feel like I belonged. Dining out digressed from the “chic” restaurants, to chains, to cheap eats, to ultimately staying home. The heating bill looked as if it should be warming up the Hancock Tower (which, btw recently went on the block for half of its worth) instead of my flat. Theater tickets in Boston climbed to the height of the newly renovated Opera House ceiling. After a $200.00 night, when I found myself gazing more at the ceiling than the stage, I went on ticket strike.

Though I realize not being able to indulge in my spa day or in the Dress Circle doesn’t constitute real hardship, the stress of trying to earn enough to meet the rising cost of necessities had me popping lots of those little purple pills (Prilosec). And imperceptibly, as the struggle seeped into my self-image of an urban, professional woman, I began to withdraw. I felt the “fraud syndrome,” a feeling that I didn’t really belong at events where the “it crowd,” the “successful people,” the “smart set” gathered. The need to attend a professional dinner at a swank downtown hotel brought on a full-blown panic attack… I spent three hours fussing with hair and make-up and endured more wardrobe changes than a first date would garner. Finally, a black wrap dress and classic Stuart W’s got me out the door.

A few weeks ago one of the most successful women I know divulged, “I’ve have no money. The business hasn’t been paid much in months.” “Why didn’t you call?” I knowingly asked… Admitting financial struggle is the professional kiss of death. I guess we can all come out of the closet and admit that times are really tough…

Finally, I relented. I packed my pride and my well-worn Pradas in the back seat and moved to a respectable, but very un-chic digs in the burbs. Those old status symbols don’t seem to matter so much now. I may have given up my beloved hardwood floors— but you can bet… I’ll be struttin’ on that sensibly safe wall-to-wall in my one cherished pair of Manolos!

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Hireheelers today, I’m going to dispense with my usual snark, because I am compelled to relay a story that so sickened me, that I have lost my “hh” sense of humor. The account centers around a young woman who found herself in a position of the upmost peril (which is horrifying enough), but the most disturbing and horrific part of the story focuses on those persons who were bystanders… They did virtually nothing to assist her, much less save her from a brutal attack. But I should let “Maria,” a young, former NYU grad student, speak for herself— as she was studying to be a writer…

“Hearing the decision about the case — it broke my heart. It really broke my heart,” the 26-year-old told TODAY’s Meredith Vieira Wednesday in an exclusive broadcast interview in New York. “I was really hoping that changes would be made, that other women taking the subway out there could feel safe and secure. The subway is raising their fares and spending even less money on security.”

Read and see the story at http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/30105703/

Rape is a word so vile, that we are less likely to utter it than a profanity. Rape is NOT an expletive. It’s a crime! Its victims are often chastised, blamed or worse. We must protect our sisters, educate our brothers and insist that society both criminally and civilly prosecute or institute policies of “zero tolerance,” not only to those who commit this supremely violent act, but those who witness rape or other savage crimes against women and do nothing (or virtually nothing). Maria, we support you, we commend you for your bravery, and we will carry the torch for you, if necessary. Thank you for having the courage and grace to stand tall for women everywhere.

we invite you to get involved with New agenda’s violence against women initiative. see hireheels’ splash page for info.

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One need only watch the nightly news to see that violence against women and young girls is escalating.  Doubtless the severity of economic hardship facing families today only exacerbates tensions and despair, which all to often trigger domestic violence. Not only is this a concern for all of the women out there (one in four women are victims of abuse at the hands of intimate partners in their lifetimes) but also for teenage girls (one in three teenage girls fears for her safety in a dating relationship).  The ongoing, often ignored issue has been given added weight in the aftermath of the highly publicized Chris Brown-Rihanna incident. Tragically, some polls show over 50% of teenagers view that abuse as "her" fault.

Now our savvy sisters and feministas over at The New Agenda are kicking up their heels by sponsoring a Violence Against Women Forum in NYC at The Benjamin Hotel on Saturday, April 18th from 3-5 p.m.

Panelists include:  Judge Leslie Crocker Snyder (retired justice NY Supreme Court and possibly the next Manhattan DA) along with  renowned experts in the area of domestic violence, Karen Cheeks-Lomax of My Sister’s Place, Manhattan Deputy Borough President Rosemonde Pierre-Louis, and Irene Weiser of Stop Family Violence.org.

Violence against women, whether random or domestic, is not an American issue but a global one.  Yesterday, The Council of Europe began the work on a new Europe-wide convention on action against violence against women. And the Committee on Preventing and Combating Violence against Women and Domestic Violence (CAHVIO) are meeting in Strasbourg to discuss an international, legally binding framework based on the trademark Council of Europe approach – protect, prevent and prosecute. The collective cry must be blaring and glaring…so much so that law enforcement and governments worldwide finally say: "ENOUGH!"

But you don’t have to travel to Europe or even New York to be heard.  If you do live in and around NYC, I encourage you to attend The New Agenda’s bold forum next weekend (I am doing my best to do so).  But regardless of whether you are able to be there in person, please plan to visit them online to stay apprised of the critical steps being taken by these fierce feministas.

NOW WATCH THIS!

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[ Expecting a Jong Il Post? Hillary can handle that..
I've got a more pressing problem... ]

Forgive the radio silence but Princess was soaking up all things mobile at the 2009 Wireless Show in Las Vegas last week.  I returned completely charged-up about future economy-boosting prospects in technology, healthcare, social media/networking and wireless computing.   But my enthusiasm would quickly be replaced by the grim reality of my very local fledgling economy.

Before armageddon descended upon miami’s real estate market, residents could find a variety of ‘features ‘n benies’ in their neighbors:  hot, interesting, famous, artsy, eclectic, pumped. These days you’re lucky to just find, well, neighbors.

Property owners are doing anything they can to fill their toxic asset with warm bodies. But at what cost to the remaining occupants?

Last night as I steadlily approached REM, a woman began banging on my door shouting:  OPEN THE DOOR – YOU BITCH!  Aside from the fact that I’ve not yet friends in my very-long-way-from-being-gentrified hood, I also don’t know anyone who speaks like that (though I encountered a few on the campaign trail in Philly).

Terrified, I reached for my pink taser and ran to the door, which by now felt as if it were about to be kicked in by this … wait a minute … is that a barefoot 20-something female in boxer shorts and a bra through my peephole?  Miami’s warm but not that warm!

ME:  “OMG – What do you want?”  SHE: “Open the door bitch…it’s me.”  ME: “WHO ARE YOU AND WHAT DO YOU WANT?”  SHE:  Oooohhh….(cowering as she bolts next door) Sorry…Wrong Door!

Because my previous neighbor – a lovely couple –  was unable to sell their loft, they’ve resorted to renting it to 4 party-all-night trash-talking chics.  On any given night there are between 4-15 loud (and lewd) people hanging out 20 feet away from me.

Any suggestions?

If I play hardball by calling the cops, I run the risks of vandalism or worse. So tomorrow I thought I’d attempt to teach the young ladies next door a few pointers in social etiquette. And if that doesn’t work, I’ve got extra sharp pair of stilettos in my closet as back-up!

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