Cheeky Debutantes

Little Shop of Horrors

2011-07-21T11:12:00.007-04:00

My roommate has been warning me for 2 years that you go a little crazy when you turn 25. Two months past the quarter century mark, I admit to a career-crisis, a new compulsive need to collect basil plants, and a desperate need to own a dog of my own.

While a canine companion is certainly in my future, it's not currently in my budget. Nor would it fit in my apartment.

So in seeking a substitute, I turned to America's favorite pulseless pet, the Chia Pet. While Chia Pet is stucking to their original advertising campaign a la 1981, they are making leaps and bounds in the progress department.

Not only can you own your own Chia Dinosaur Pet, Chia Crocodile Pet, or Chia Puppy Pet, for the small fee of $19.95 you TOO can own a Chia Pet Obama. Is it just me, or is that wrong on about 8 different levels?

Everything That Is Wrong With Contemporary Dating

2010-10-25T18:02:00.003-04:00

Debutante: i'm having a convo tonight

not looking forward to it

but it's a bandaid i must rip off

*****'s text just didn't denote excitement

me: dont read into that!

Debutante: he tends to do smiley faces

he likes himself some emoticons

me: thats so wrong

Debutante: there was no emoticon

Debutante: nor was there proper capitalization
would you tell me if you thought all hope was lost?

me: hahahahahaha

About That Time, Eh?

2010-09-28T13:40:00.004-04:00

My roommate and I threw the mother of all Halloween parties last year. Remember this one, debutantes? Yikes.

To those who were not actually present, I'll sum it up by saying that the greater part of the Charleston art community was hungover for about two months. People are STILL talking about this party...

Which makes me think our guests should probably sign waivers. L and I aren't looking to be held responsible for any resulting liver transplants, unidentified drunken injuries, or paternity tests.

I personally think we should hire Jacques Pense to design our waiver, but I'm betting L will fight me on this one. Anyway, check out the amazing stationary he designed for 13th Street. Full story via Toxel, here.

2010-07-14T00:14:00.003-04:00

I haven't written in so long, I'm not sure I remember how. I also haven't posted in so long, I doubt anyone ever checks this thing. (But hello there, if you are reading this!)

I'll start you off with three important life updates to help us get reacquainted. I'm officially in my mid-twenties. I have found a gray hair. I have also gotten rid of my polka-dotted sheets.

Shocking, right? It looks like this cheeky debutante might be growing up. (Cream damask. Egyptian cotton. They're perfect.)

While I may not have been writing much lately, I've been working, living, and thinking a lot in the last several weeks. The result is that I am completely scatter-brained, tired, and trying to re-evaluate my life... meaning there are way too many thoughts ping-ponging around in my head. Here's what I've got:

It's ok to step away from the people you love. Loving people is a wonderful thing, and we should all do more of it, but I believe in Love Within Bounds. When someone chooses a path you don't respect, leave. Call it jumping ship if you'd like, but it does not make you callous or disloyal.

A few close friends are all you really need in life, but meeting new people is one of my favorite things.

Parental figures are the most important forces in shaping an individual. My parents are incredible people, a fantastic couple, and wonderful role models. The older I get, the more I appreciate how unique my family is, and how much effort they have all put into making sure I'm constantly aware of how much I'm loved. I really need to share this with them more often.

I have the exact same psychological and emotional characteristics today that I exhibited at the age of two. The more comfortable I become in my own skin, the more I realize that I haven't ever really changed... fortunately, however, I've outgrown playing with dinosaurs, biting the people that piss me off, and throwing tomato soup at my sister. For the most part, anyway.

Having children has never been something I've been overly interested in, and I feel awkward when people ask me if I want to procreate. What does this say about me as a woman?

Moments of self-realization are rarely comfortable. I've just realized I've gotten a lot of very important things wrong for a very long time... and this is entirely my fault. Is it possible that I'm not as smart as I think I am? What, does this mean I'm going to have to stop giving unsolicited relationship advice to my friends?

At a certain age, you come face to face with issues, feelings, and emotions that have nothing to do with hormones, listening to bad music, or sheer boredom.

What happens now? At what point do you actually stop making the same mistake over and over again? Or do you? You started doing these seemingly insane things for a reason. Are we all just nuts?

And at what point does a woman decide to start dying her hair? And at what age do you stop?

Serious shit, people. Let's keep it light next time!

Love,
Scarlett

The Blues

2010-05-14T01:41:00.007-04:00

Cuff by Eddie Borgo

The theme of today's post is blue, in part because it's next in my color wheel rotation and in part because that's how I feel about leaving New York. Yes, this debutante forayed north of the Mason Dixon for some much needed R&R.

New York was amazing, albeit freezing cold, and I got a chance to catch up with a number of my favorite old friends (read: shop, drink, and misbehave a little). Now I am home, tired, and broke. The tired part may be my fault, but the broke part I'm blaming entirely on Rebecca Minkoff.

Fossilized Leather Heartache Hobo by Rebecca Minkoff

I had just left a certain magazine office on Park and 23rd and was wandering aimlessly through the cold, gray misty New York streets when suddenly a light shone through the gloom. I looked up and the ultimate voice of authority reached out and spoke to me: Rebecca Minkoff Sample Sale. Ladies and gentlemen, in the epic words of Ace of Base, I saw the sign.

I was shameless. I refuse to tell you what I bought or how much I paid for these items, but I will tell you they are stunning and fabulous. I've tried to justify this spending splurge in my head several different ways, but honestly I just saw a SIGN!

...Some people hear God, I hear Rebecca Minkoff.

Just go with it, people.

Silk Cotton Slub Rai Dress by Stella McCartney

Oren Flat by Via Spiga

Asymmetrical Dress by Cynthia Rowley

Purple Prose

2010-04-26T23:47:00.010-04:00

Nicky Blouson Dress With Leather Panel Skirt by Alice + Olivia

First of all, what in the world is going on with Google Adworks? I logged on to draft this post, and found my blog recommending I invest in a "Bra for Your Butt." A-look here, I may have been hitting the peanut butter a little hard lately, but I assure you that times are not yet that tough.

Fancy by Jonathan Kelsey

Judgmental ads aside, I'm going to continue with my color posts! Today we're celebrating purple: the color of royalty. I went through a brief phase where I secretly believed I was the lost Princess Anastasia when I was about 10, and 14 years later I'm still a huge fan of the color purple even though I've finally let go of my atrocious faux Russian accent. (Instead I know for a fact that I AM a full blown queen. It just happens that I've misplaced my country and subjects.)

Cirque Hobo from Temperley London

Envoy Glasses from American Apparel

Purple Resin Clouds Ring from Pebble London

Scarlet Letter

2010-04-26T01:14:00.014-04:00

Cooperative Lightweight Sweater Dress from Urban Outfitters

My mother has always said that a lady should have two things: outrageous underwear and at least one pair of red shoes. Mom gave me my first pair of rainbow metallic panties when I was in 3rd grade, and continues to send me skank-tastic under-dunders on the regular. She once sent my sister a turquoise and lace leopard print push-up bra in college, and my sister made the mistake of opening her mail in class. Awkward...

Honestly I'm not 100% sure what the rational is on Mom's bitchin' britches mantra, but it's safe to say that thanks to my mother it's always a party in my pants.

Depner Ankle Boot by Aldo

The red shoes, I get completely. They're sassy, they're sexy, and they can be just straight up naughty. They're essential for every cheeky debutante, and quite frankly they're the only reason I passed my thesis presentation. Cherry red patent leather pumps with an ankle strap? Please. There was no way I could fail.

Here's to red! The color of passion, roses, the best wine, danger, and the only shoes you need to own. Happy Monday, kids.

Lincolm - Remy Wallet by Kate Spade via Nordstrom

Shibori Silk Dress from Anthropologie

Cardinal Leaves Tote from Anthropologie

Betsey Johnson Retro Inspired Glasses from Nordstrom

"Orange" You Glad It's Almost Friday?

2010-04-22T14:30:00.009-04:00

I am! Not so much because it means the weekend - I'm a photographer, my weekends are Tuesdays and Wednesdays - but because it means the College of Charleston oompa loompas are going to be out in full force.

Like excessively spray tanned orcas, these orange sorority whales will beach themselves front and center in Marion Square a la walrus mating rituals on the Discovery Channel. Creepy? Terrifying? Well, you're talking to the same girl who religiously watches Shark Week every year, I love scaring the crap out of myself.

Look 23 from Carolina Herrera SS 2010

Which brings me back to my original point: I can't WAIT for Friday! As I troll King Street with friends this weekend, my eyes will be roving the crowds of pasty tourists for that brief flash of Lindsay Lohan-esque tangerine flesh. I always feel a bizarre mix of excitement, absolute horror, and morbid fascination after an oompa loompa sighting, the way you feel when you run across an armadillo.

So here's to all things ORANGE, debutantes! Bright, festive, hard to miss: it is the official color of SUMMER... in more ways than one! (Oompa loompas ought to appreciate these clothing items from afar. This is the one color that will really wash you out.)

Wooden Bib Necklace from La Via 18

Sliced Leather Cuff by Linea Pelle

Tevin Small Leather Satchel by Tory Burch

Rosyann Sandal from Nine West

Mellow Yellow!

2010-04-21T19:31:00.008-04:00

Gussie Dress in Sand Lines Yellow by Diane von Furstenberg

Today was a beautiful spring day in Charleston today, warm but not hot, sunny, mosquito-free, and filled with gorgeous azaleas... which means it's bound to be roasting, humid, and full blown summer by tomorrow at noon.

Women's South Beach Glasses by Lacoste

The Lowcountry is in full bloom, and all this time shooting out and about in "the nature" has me craving a serious dose of color to spice up the various shades of black, charcoal, dark gray, and slate that make up my photographer's wardrobe. Wake up, ladies, it's time for a romp around the color wheel!

Wrinkled Rosette Headband from Anthropologie

Iris Tank from Free People via ShopBop
Tom Binns

Lemon Fizz Shorts from Anthropologie

Rold by Aldo Tom Binns

RUN! It's... That Girl.

2010-04-16T02:23:00.003-04:00

Vintage Daisy and I, starring as "Those Girls" in full sequins!

I'm going to preface this post by saying 3 things:

1) I've been a naughty debutante; I haven't posted in forever.

2) My ass has left an imprint in our new couch to rival the Shroud of Turin, I've consumed half a bottle of red wine, and I'm eating peanut butter out of the jar with a spoon.

3) I have officially spent about 15 of the last 24 hours staring at bridal portraits, which may explain items 1 & 2.

Dear God, what is happening to me? I've officially become "that girl." Who is "that girl," you ask? That Girl can refer to a number of dodgy characters, for instance "Holy crap. There's a drunk girl crawling around on her hands and knees on the bathroom floor at Social, and it's only 8:15. You never want to be that girl," or "There's an awkward chick grunting up a storm on the Thigh Master while sporting a camel toe, loud and proud. Kill me if I turn into that girl."

I am on my living room couch, thank you, and certainly not sporting a camel toe. But I am mildly tipsy, covered in peanut butter, and watching marathon of some show about real life exorcisms while editing wedding photos. (Why do all exorcisms happen in Idaho and Montana? Genetically engineered corn?)

I manically chatter about work work work on the phone to friends until I get the inevitable panicked, "OH MY GOD! I forgot to put the detergent in the dishwasher, I have to GO! NOW! RIGHT NOW!!!!!!" My fingers spasm in my sleep to the beat of "⌘-L, ⌘-F, Shift-⌘-S," and the woman at the Piggly Wiggly gave me the same suspect "HMPH!" she uses on the homeless people while handing over my tub of pimento cheese. Which I did NOT eat in one sitting.

Me in my "That Girl" Heyday

It's official. I'm "That Girl Who Doesn't Do Anything But Work And Can't Stop Talking About It, For The Love Of God!" So not cool. And sad, considering a few short years ago I was known to a select few as "That Girl In the Sequins Sloshing Long Island Iced Tea On Everyone While Fist-Pumping to Miley Cyrus." Who? Me. Never...

Daisy teaches us how to Resurrect Fun. Note the gin and tonic and sequins.

Anyhow. Tonight, as I finish my wine, I am making a solemn vow. I, Scarlett, am going to resurrect "Fun." I miss fun! So I'm going to put DOWN my jar of JIF Reduced Fat Crunchy Peanut Butter (because it's not disgusting to eat peanut butter out of a jar if it's reduced fat, duh), put DOWN my laptop, NOT put down my glass of red wine, and get back to having a real life.

One that doesn't involve watching exorcism marathons, my friends trying to get me committed, or eating any sort of condiment with a spoon. No wonder my mother has started sending me relationship self-help books.

Music to My Ears

2010-04-06T01:05:00.000-04:00

Limited Edition Turntable Ring by Darkcloud

Remember the other month when I was wrangling cats? Well this week I'm wrangling musicians! I have to say that so far they've been my favorite group to shoot, hands down. It's probably because they're used to performing... or maybe it's because they're a little eccentric. Anyhow, here are some fab music-inspired finds. Happy Hump Day!

The Wailers Ceramic Speakers by John Caswell

Macho Man CD Holder

Smokin' Buds Headphones

Single Female Seeking No Responsibility

2010-04-05T22:16:00.004-04:00

Here's the thing about going home for holidays as a nearly 24-year-old cheeky debutante: for the first time in your life, you find that your family's neighbors and friends continually take sly looks at your ring finger while asking if there's "anyone special" in your life.

Holy crap, people. I just want to high five Jesus, eat some bunny ears, and head back to Charleston!

On a serious note, however, the question has officially been raised. At what point do you make that abrupt transition from "too young to get married" (for instance myself, at the age of 23) to being at a "marriageable age" (this is the South people, the ripe old age of 26 qualifies) to that "oh-dear-God-someone-stop-my-mother-from-signing-me-up-for-Match.com" stage of life.

I'm not quite sure when that last stage is, but in the last year my lovely mother has taken to sending me relationship self-help books (Hi Moooom, if you're reading this! Loooooove you). This very seriously concerns me.

At what age do you stop dating for fun and start looking for a mate? Does spinsterhood still exist in our modern age? And what about this abrupt call to motherhood I've been hearing about? I've developed a fear of turning 30 lately. Not because of the number, but because I've heard several disturbing reports that your ovaries flip some sort of hidden "baby switch" and you suddenly turn into a procreating-obsessed zombie. Like... Cookie Monster, but instead the Egg Monster.

Disturbing, right? Anyone remember that crazy chick Allie from the bachelor? Who actually uttered the words "my eggs are rotting" and "I'm ready to begin the reproductive phase of my life"? Thank God I'm still 23 for another month! Here's to being young and frivolous.

In the eternal words of my namesake and hero, Miss O'Hara, "I'll worry about that tomorrow."

Panties Police.

2010-03-30T20:07:00.002-04:00

Hanky Panky 'Peek-a-boo' Bra and Thong, Nordstrom

"Dear Readers, my panties are nutritious." These epic words are brought to you courtesy of my roommate, L.

L's dog suffers from acute separation anxiety, which results in compulsive furniture licking and pantie chewing. This means that our armchair constantly has a suspicious-looking wet spot, and we both own more pairs of crotchless panties than is proper for two ladies whose occupations do not involve a pole or nipple tassels. Gross, right?

As I pondered what to post for today, I hit on the idea of a underwear-oriented post. I pondered how on earth to introduce this post, and obviously L's suggestion was the sure-fire winner. I'm over-sharing again, I apologize... But this is a much more common problem than you think. Google it. I did!

Fleur of England Very Berry Balcony Bra and Thong

The POINT is this: we have to do a lot of lingerie shopping, thanks to a particularly hairy little man with abandonment issues and a tendency to relocate the contents of our trash can throughout the apartment. Our resident chow-lab mix is a little emo and possibly a pervert, what can I say? Thank God he's adorable!

Now that I've made you all feel sufficiently awkward, I'll post some favorite lingerie finds!

Fleur of England Dessert Silk Boudoir Bra and Silk Frill Suspender Brief

Victoria's Secret Lace Tanga Bra and Panty

Myla London Evelyn Padded Plunge Bra

You've heard of the chastity belt? Well ladies, THIS bra is sure to keep you chaste. I never thought a bra could be creepy, until I saw this one.

Fashion Forms "U" Push-Up Bra, Bloomingdales

And this one? Is just hysterical!!!!

Bordello London Queen of Hearts Bra and Thong Set

Booze on the Brain

2010-03-29T18:52:00.011-04:00

I regularly associate vodka with Death's Door, perfect! It's organic, too.

We at Cheeky Debutantes have been known to imbibe. While it may not always be with discretion and perhaps not always with what you might term "class," it is always certainly with style... Well, er, minus that time Daisy and I discovered grain alcohol slushies and two wayward groomsmen at Wet Willies. (Yes, one was named Forrest. Insert joke here.)

Bottle Opening Cufflinks for your hot mess of an other half via Uncrate

AHEM! Anyway! The point is, that I've got booze on the brain. So shoot me, I'm 23 and a hot mess. And I recently met even a hotter mess than I am. I was shooting backstage at Charleston Fashion Week's Bridal Couture show when said Hotter Mess (a model) wandered by in full bridal headgear and makeup. The veil and flannel wearing Hotter Mess peered at me for a second, raised an eyebrow, and muttered, "Listen, Imma cut a bitch if I don't get some vodka, know what I'm sayin?"

...There is nothing so disturbing as those words coming out from under a bridal veil.

"Can I have a glass of PromisQous?" Yes, yes you can! (They offer Monogamy too, but asking for a glass of Monogamy just sounds desperate, people.)

Sure enough, 5 minutes later Hotter Mess ambled back by with a Bloody Mary firmly in hand and a smug smile on her face. A Bloody Mary around about a hundred wedding dresses? That is one BRAVE hot mess. Yes, it was 11 am. Yes, we were surrounded by a sea of bouquet-toting, veil-wearing, overly peppy models. Yes, I thought very seriously about grabbing that Bloody Mary and sprinting for the exit.

World Wide Fred's Bottom's Up Shot Glass

Hotter Mess caught me enviously eyeing her drink and smiled, "Yeah, I thought I liked you." Birds of a feather do flock together!

So for all you other hot messes out there, here's a few fab finds to keep you trendy and tipsy.

Trial-sized wine? Absolutely.

Nambe's Twist Cocktail Shaker

Luxury Wine Wands from Philip Stein reduce wine's breathing time, via Luxist

PS: Craving some Hot Scottish Man-Mess? Check out these nutcases! I may have to marry one of them. Or both.

You Know Who's Cool?

2010-03-28T12:46:00.005-04:00

Tokujin Yoshioka is cool. The Japanese designer worked (most notably) under Issey Miyake from 1988 until 2000, when he started his own studio. Since then, Yoshioka has collaborated with a number of companies, including Hermes, Toyota, BMW, KDDI, and Swarovski. All of Yoshioka's work is innovative and stunning, packing a serious dose of the ever elusive "wow" factor. In fact, you can find his work in the permanent collections of the MoMA, Centre National d' Art et de Culture Georges Pompidou, Victoria and Albert Museum, Cooper Hewitt National Design Museum, and Vitra Design Museum.

Behold the Venus Chair, a structure naturally grown from crystals. How sick is that? Yoshioka created a base structure of threads and submerged it into a vat of chemicals to allow the crystals to grow... like you did in your 8th grade science class, only way cooler. Check out Yoshioka's website for the play-by-play on how he executed this project.

And what's that? A sofa made of paper? Why yes, yes it is. Again, Yoshioka showcases his creative process on his website, so check it out there.

And if you can't get enough of paper furniture - and let's be honest now, who can? - then check out Italian retailer's website Moroso for more information on this outrageous little armchair.

Spring Fling!

2010-03-26T18:14:00.009-04:00

Maurie and Eve New Cabaret Dress via I Don't Like Mondays

It's spring here in Charleston, and this debutante is in the mood for a fling. Be it with a non-face-grabbing young stud, a bottle of red wine, or a new fashion find, it is certainly spring fling time. My last post will give you an idea how my love life is (not) going, and posting about red wine would only demonstrate how little my alcohol tastes have matured since college, so I'll stick to fashion... for now.

Rebecca Minkoff Beloved Mini in Moss

Yoana Baraschi Material Girl Dress via Sunday Brunch

Givenchy Gold Ring Cuff via Kirna Zabete

(front) McGinn Corsage Dress via Sunday Brunch

(back) McGinn Corsage Dress via Sunday Brunch

Herve Leger Birch Textured Patchwork Dress

Jason Wu

No, Really. She's Just Not That Into You.

2010-03-25T16:46:00.003-04:00

This is a short rant. But since this has happened to me two times in the last month and a half, I deem it worthy of Cheeky Debutantes.

Listen up, men. Any time you have to physically hold a lady still in order to make out with her, she's just not that into you.

She's not shy, she's not playing hard to get, and she's probably not even Catholic. She just doesn't want to exchange anything even remotely resembling a bodily fluid with you, and has probably been giving off mad signals to that effect.

Furthermore, if you ARE an idiot and are mid-face-palming, you must immediately cease and desist the moment you notice her flailing T-Rex arms. Do you hear me? CEASE AND DESIST!!!!

T-Rex = no sex.

Whew. I feel better. Don't you?

Holy Fashion Hangover.

2010-03-24T21:26:00.004-04:00

I've been MIA again, but rest assured that whenever either of us cheeky debutantes is missing in blog action it's because we're doing something ridiculously cool!... Or else we're frantically trying to find a way to pay rent. Le sigh.

I'm still recovering from Charleston Fashion Week, and I'm suffering a serious fashion hangover so this is going to be a short, sweet, and non-fashion post. Brace yourself.

image via Claire Coles

You know what's cool? Claire Coles' work is cool.

image via Claire Coles

She stitches together vintage wallpapers to create ethereal, whimsical wallpaper, illustrations, and accessories. Check it out, here. (Told you it would be short!)

Beating the uh... Dead Horse...

2010-03-14T20:54:00.004-04:00

Image via Boone Hall Plantation

I've seen a lot of bizarre things at weddings. I've seen the mother of the bride projectile vomit mid-ceremony. I've seen the groom vanish during the reception. I've seen a tiny little wedding planner bodily remove wasted a groomsmen from a reception.

Never have I ever seen anyone or anything die during a wedding... until this weekend.

I was assisting on a wedding at gorgeous Boone Hall Plantation, which is literally like something out of a movie. Actually, The Notebook, if we have to get particular about it.

Image via Boone Hall Plantation

Picture the towering, ancient oaks lining the rustic dirt road. Picture the iron gates at the end of the drive and the stunning mansion with pristine gardens. Picture the lush green pasture........... with the disturbingly bow-legged horse tottering around.

Weird, right? Since I was in the middle of wrangling groomsmen - in particular Dave, the Disappearing Groomsmen - I had a "gee, THAT doesn't seem right" moment before going back to the posed pictures.

Fast forward an hour, and said horse is now laying on it's side with one hind leg spastically kicking in the air. "Oh, that's DEFINITELY not right," some Jersey-sounding tourist grumbled next to me. The tour guide tried to usher her group away from 1) the wedding and 2) the ailing livestock but have you ever met a tourist from New Jersey? Docile, they are not.

This middle-aged New Jersian marched right up to a suspect looking farm employee (with me hot on her heels, of course. Groomsmen be damned, I was NOT missing this.) and demanded to know what was wrong with his horse. Clearly, she wanted her ante-bellum plantation experience sans ailing animals. Looks bad for the grandkids and whatnot.

"He's uh... resting. Yeah, that's how horses like, rest," Captain Shifty Eyes said nervously.

I had to get back to work, but the next time I caught a glimpse of the pasture - two hours later - there were two men stealthily covering the horse with a blue plastic tarp. Listen folks, nothing says "Dead Horse" like a blue tarp.

Anyway, it was my first (and hopefully last) death at a wedding, and it was certainly the most unique "something blue" I've ever seen at a ceremony. What? Too soon for jokes? Fiiiiiine. Time for this cheeky debutante to get to bed then.

After all, we wouldn't want to beat the dead horse...

"Glam Rocks"

2010-03-11T20:10:00.013-05:00

Gianmarco Lorenzi

It's a gross rainy night in the Lowcountry, and I'm in need of a serious pick-me-up. Since Charleston Fashion Week's theme this year is "Glam Rocks!" (Honestly, who thought up that slogan?) I'm posting my favorite badass glam footwear finds. Hellooooo eye-candy!

Alexander Wang Freja Laced Zip Stiletto Boot

Camilla Skovgaard

Ankle Boot by DSquared2

Charleston Fashion Week Sneak Peek 2010

2010-03-11T02:24:00.004-05:00

Charleston Fashion Week 2010 (CFW) is almost here, and it's time to build some hype for my newly-adopted hometown. Check out the behind-the-scenes slideshow of production leading up to CFW.

I have no idea who created this... but she's probably awesome...

Charleston Wine + Food Festival 2010 part 2

2010-03-11T01:30:00.008-05:00

photo copyright Scarlett at Cheeky Debutantes 2010

My second event at the Charleston Wine + Food Festival was the King Street Sip and Stroll. This is an awesome event if you're visiting from out of town, but for those of us that are Charlestonians, it will probably not be your fave.

Our reactions were best summed up like this...

T: "Booze!"

Me: "Shoes!"

photo copyright Scarlett at Cheeky Debutantes 2010

Next up was the Celebrity Author Reception, which was FANTASTIC! The event was held at 17 Legare Street, a gorgeous historic home, and the food was catered by Muse. Wine was provided by Women of the Vine, and entertainment was provided by my new friend S.

S is an up-and-coming 20-something lady in Charleston, and she's freaking hysterical. After interviewing several celebrity authors and sipping several glasses of free wine, S decided the hors d'oeuvres were not circulating as frequently as she'd like. S marched up the stairs with H and I in tow, and cheerfully planted herself in the MIDDLE OF THE KITCHEN until the amazed catering staff hustled us out the door with our very own plate of hors d'oeuvres.

photo copyright Scarlett at Cheeky Debutantes 2010

Ridiculous, right? But seeing as they were serving tuna tartare, miniature lump crab cakes, pulled pork in phyllo dough, and balls of goat cheese that were rolled in polenta, fried, and topped with red pepper (pictured at top), it's perfectly understandable. And we all know my feelings on this sort of snack; I'm a zealous worshiper at the House of Cheese!!!

photo copyright Scarlett at Cheeky Debutantes 2010

And for dessert? Tiny red velvet cupcakes with towering piles of cream cheese frosting from Cupcake. After scarfing more of these little babies than I'll EVER admit to publicly, I succumbed to a nearly fatal food coma. Like I said, it's a hard life!

Sunday was a fabulous tour of the Culinary Village and the Grand Tasting Tents, and damn. Honestly the whole experience was so much fun, you're an idiot if you don't at least try to make it down for next year's festival. The highlight? Why it was Circa 1886's Blueberry Antelope Chili with Basil Cream, of course! Seriously, that was the most amazing thing I've tried in a long time. It totally eclipsed everything else I tried at the tents, including the White Chocolate Crepes with raspberry sauce from Charleston Crepe Company.

And now? It's time for this cheeky debutante to get her cheeks off to the gym...!

Charleston Wine + Food Festival 2010

2010-03-09T00:29:00.012-05:00

Where to begin? Other than with the 50 pounds I put on during this 4 day festival...

The Charleston Wine + Food Festival is one of Charleston's most eagerly awaited festivals. Now in its 5th year, the Wine + Food Festival (which we all call the Food and Wine Festival, duh) ranks alongside Spoleto and Charleston Fashion Week in popularity and press coverage, and given the number of fabulous happenings in this town, that's saying something.

My first event was the Anheuser-Busch Brewmasters Beer School. Wine tasting, I get, but I was a bit skeptical about the merits of "beer tasting"... then again let's not pretend I'm far enough out from college to be anything but ecstatic about free alcohol!

Actually, since I was covering the event for a mag, not only did I get to drink at noon on a Friday at the Food and Wine Festival, I got to bring a friend... AND get paid! My dear friend T accompanied me, and it was by far the coolest thing either of us have done in a while.

Did you know there's a technique to beer tasting? Apparently the taste buds responsible for bitter flavors are on the back of your tongue, so you're supposed to sip, slosh to the back of your throat, then slosh forward, then swallow, then eat cheese.

Amongst all the sloshing and cheesing (heehee), we also got to crush and smell hops and taste 3 types of barley... but who are we kidding, my favorite part was the beer.

The Anheuser-Busch people started the lecture off right, giving us a traditional Bud to sip on while we listened. (Why didn't they do THAT in college?) Then came the tasting. T and I sampled four of Budweiser's specialty beers:

The Bud Light Golden Wheat was paired with cheddar cheese topped with pomegranate molasses. I'm a huge wheat beer fan, so I'll give it one and a half thumbs up by itself. With the cheese, however, it was awesome. The sweet and salty and fruity combo was delicious! "Hmmm..." I pondered. "Perhaps there IS something to this 'beer tasting' nonsense."

The Rye-PA was accompanied by creamy blue cheese topped with an ancho chili lacquer, a combination that made me nervous, but again those darn Bud people know their beer. The hoppier IPA was fantastic alongside the creamy and smoky flavors, but wasn't my favorite beer.

Next came the Hop Hound Amber Wheat, which I ADORE! It was paired with Humboldt Fog goat cheese and cumquat jam... delightful. We were officially intoxicated by this time.

Last was the Dunkel Weisse, paired with chocolate of all things. Chocolate and beer?! you soberly ask. "Ooooh, more beer!" I tipsily giggled. Anyway, yes, chocolate and beer. The smooth and sweet flavors perfectly balanced this bitter beer, which I believe was T's favorite of the day.

Then it was off to Juanita's to get some food into us and sober up a bit... after all, we DID have a wine tasting in less than an hour!

Local Love: Charleston Fashion part 2

2010-03-07T16:26:00.010-05:00

Adele Hat via Magar Hat Works

I'm still suffering from too intense of a food hangover to write about the Food and Wine Festival, but I can promise that it was fabulous and that I'll post about that tomorrow!

Instead I want to showcase a few more pieces from Charleston's super-talented fashion community in preparation for CFW.

Vintage Olive Floral Celluloid Pendant Necklace

Scarlet Poppy is the collaborative collection from Charleston-based jewelry designers Michelle Fowler and Jennafer Bryan. They buy and reinvent antique pieces from around the world, creating jewelry with a distinctly vintage feel that is still contemporary and wearable.

Otis Hat from Magar Hatworks

Leigh Magar is an absolute gem among Charleston designers. An FIT graduate, Magar creates charming, beautiful hats that are an absolute favorite among Charleston's finest - particularly the men. Her work has one foot firmly in the longstanding Southern hat tradition and one foot firmly in quirky, chic contemporary style.

Suade Sand Scallop Clutch with Coral Lining

Allison Abney creates funky, colorful clutches. While not all of her bags are quite my style, I love the color and texture of her Sand Scallop Clutch. It would be just perfect for attending a dressy brunch downtown or spring Charleston wedding, no?

Cavortess by Julie Wheat

Cavortess is the new line from Julie Wheat. Wheat describes her eco-friendly creations as being suited for the "urban debutante" which of course I loved! Cavortess uses more than 80% vintage or recycled materials, and each piece part of is a limited edition available in a variety of fabrics.

Hayley Clutch by Candace Romeo

The description for Candace Romeo's Hayley Clutch reads, "No need for mess. Stay clean and modern with the sleek black leather and sparkling silver interior. Wine, dine and shine!" I love it, but not as much as I love the purple zipper detail on the inside of the bag.

Rachel Gordon's ONE LOVE collection from the Dear John premiere via Life

And a special congrats to local designer Rachel Gordon, whose floor length plum beauty recently made its red carpet debut at the premiere of Screen Gem's Dear John at Grauman's Chinese Theater on February 1, 2010 in Hollywood.

Local Love: Charleston Fashion

2010-03-06T18:50:00.010-05:00

Ghana in Troubadour

CFW photo copyright Scarlett 2009

If you don't live in South Carolina - or Charleston, for that matter - there's a chance you've never heard of CFW, aka Charleston Fashion Week. CFW is awesome (and a little crazy), but the important thing is that it showcases and supports Charleston's local design community.

Charleston is mostly known for it's beautiful homes, fantastic dining, and widespread tourist appeal, but my little home is also a thriving hub for the arts. The amount of talent and creativity in Charleston is mind-blowing, and if you get the chance you definitely need to check out Spoleto, CFW, the Food and Wine Festival, or any of Chucktown's ongoing amazing cultural happenings. (Did someone say Brewvival? Yes, we have a festival devoted to beer. This IS the South, people.)

I'm too fooded-out to talk about Charleston's Food and Wine Festival today, but here's a sample of some of my favorite recent fashion finds among Charleston's design community! More to come with CFW, I promise. Consider this a teaser!

Lindsey Carter is the designer behind Troubadour, a newer Charleston line. Carter, a former intern for our gal Rebecca, debuted Troubadour last year as an emerging designer at CFW, and I LOVE her fall collection. Check out the Minetta Dress in Pink Chiffon (above), and the Cooper Dress in Snow (below).

Classy, simple, sexy. Adorable, no?

Jane Pope is one of our more famous local jewelry designers. Her work has been all over Glamour, InStyle, and Cosmopolitan etc., and while her website may claim she currently lives in New York, do not be fooled. I ran into her yesterday. Awkwardly. Of course.

Anyhow, check out her surf-inspired Urchin ring above. I need it!

This is Jane Pope's Quill necklace, inspired by a fern spathe... I have no idea what that is. Sounds naughty though, right?

"Scarlett, why on earth are we looking at the back of a bathing suit?" 1) That is a fine bathing suit back. 2) Marysia SWIM's website drives me nuts, so this picture came off the Urban Outfitters website.

Charleston favorite Marysia won last year's CFW emerging design competition and went on to show at Miami's Swim Week before being picked up by the Urban Outfitters/Anthropologie group. While her designs would certainly make my bum look larger than Texas (and nobody messes with Texas...), I do love the aesthetic.

I'm anti-romper. Really, I am. It's one trend I find best left to my niece and nephew, both of whom still proudly wear diapers.

That said, I must be coming down with something because I actually really love this little bugger from C. Lewis Reid. Designer Ashley Reid is a survivor of CFW's inaugural year and Emerging Design competition, and she'll actually be the featured designer for CFW's Friday night show.

Happy Saturday, I need to go detox from all things food and fashion for a few hours. Such a tough life!

Friday Funnies...

2010-03-05T17:44:00.007-05:00

(photo from The Wedinator)

With wedding season rapidly approaching and my first issue of Martha Stewart Weddings delivered today, it's important for this wedding photographer to keep her sense of humor! Why not share the love?

...You can thank me later! :)

The Wedinator

Cake Wrecks

Things My Date Really Said

It's a Jungle Out There

2010-03-03T23:01:00.017-05:00

Rabbit Earrings, Zoe & Morgan

Ask me what I was doing earlier this week. Go on, ask. What's that? Being paid to taste beer and cheese at noon and sip wine at 3? Psh, that's on Friday, my friends!!

I was wrangling cats. One cat, actually, but he's a sassy little fellow by the name of Miles Suarez. As I was trying to coax Miles out from a table with an inappropriately large catnip cigar, I realized that my photography career will always have 20 times more bizarre and awkward moments than it will glamorous moments.

My new business cards are going to read, "Photographer by trade, Cat Wrangler by fate."

Maybe it's too much time chasing our furry friends, but I'm doing an animal-related post today. Enjoy!

Gorgon Bangle, Solange Azagury-Partridge

Flying Horse Belt, Temperley London

14 Point Stag Ring, Digby and Iona

Fleur-Ever Premium Lashes, Shu Uemura

Lion Belt, Temperley London

Silver Python Titi Heel, Christian Louboutin

Boo to Stomach Flu.

2010-02-28T21:06:00.008-05:00

Usually I try to keep griping to a minimum when it comes to Cheeky Debutantes, but I have to air a serious grievance with the universe right now... that jerk. The Universe is obviously male.

I have stomach flu. This is an experience that I would rate "highly unpleasant," and the reason I'm so ticked off about it is that I have had food poisoning no less than TWO TIMES this year already.

Seriously, karma, what are the ODDS?

Anyhow. As I am my mother's daughter, I'm going that whole "Lemons to Lemonade" route on this one. Let's consider this the universe's attempt to jump start my Charleston Fashion Week Crash Diet... because girlfriend's got to get her derriere in check before she fits it into that blue mini dress.

This much up close and personal time with my digestive tract - hush, I know I'm over-sharing but YOU try doing this for the 3rd time in one year - has made me decide that IF I'm going to be plagued stomach pyrotechnics on the regular I do it in STYLE, by God!

Looky what I found! The cutest barf bags of all time.

www.morningchicnessbags.com

www.chucktheyuck.com

Trust me, ladies. Stomach flu has never looked this fabulous.

I Got It From My Daddy

2010-02-25T22:58:00.007-05:00

I adore my parents. I bring this up because today I got a classic dose of both of their quirkier sides. My adorable mother (pictured on My Mom the Style Icon, here) is visiting Charleston, and within her first hour and a half outside the confines of her hotel she managed to coerce some poor 26 year old painter into swearing on all that was holy that he would help me assemble a dresser.

His expression as we walked away is perhaps best described as dazed.

However, my darling father (also pictured on My Mom the Style Icon, here) set the bar for random 'rent behavior earlier in the day.

Dad takes skiing trips with the guys about twice a year. I'm pretty sure these male bonding experiences are somewhat akin to the movie Old School but with more snow. Anyway, every ski trip - without fail - dear old Dad encounters some tequila or gin and manages to tipsy-text my sister and I a number of times. Awkward? No, friends, this is a Scarlett family tradition! It will be awkward when Dad winds up on "Dads Gone Wild: Snowman Edition."

This trip, however, I seen neither hide nor hair of Tipsy Terry. Finally getting a bit concerned, I left the Dadinator a voicemail this afternoon demanding to know why he was behaving so well.

Image my surprise when I received a voicemail an hour later. The call was from "Dad," and yet the message was something a bit like this:

...That's right, folks! My responsible and unnaturally tidy father turned into the Abominal Snowman and lost his iPhone.

I debated calling back to try and help that poor, heavily accented man return Tipsy Terry's phone, but then I figured that Dad's an adult now and would figure it out.

I finally got a hold of Dear Old Dad later in the day. "How was YOUR day?" I asked. "Fine, why do you ask?" "Because I got a voicemail from some guy that found your phone. And here I was worried you weren't misbehaving!!"

After a little fit of the man-giggles, Dad pulled it together and said, "I think I got a hold of some bad Scotch last night. It must have been out of date or something."

I advised Dad to switch to tequila; I hear it's always in season!

Cuckoo For Q-Tips

2010-02-25T22:48:00.001-05:00

This is another one of those posts that's inspired by my weird (yet mostly fabulous) life. First, you should know that I am suffering from swimmer's ear again. While this is normally an affliction found amongst eight year old boys, you can apparently bring it upon yourself as an adult lady through excessive Q-Tip use.

"Never put anything in your ear that's smaller than your elbow!" the chipper nurse said last time. Look, if loving Q-Tips is wrong... baby, I ain't ever gonna go right.

As my mother once retorted, "Oh, right. And if Q-Tips weren't meant to go in your ear, why did they design them to fit so perfectly?" Touche, mom, touche.

Anyhow, I've finally accepted that I have no intentions of curbing my love of Q-Tips. Obviously this means it's time to celebrate it! I was trolling the internet for the perfect "shove it, ear nose and throat doctor" Q-Tip dispenser when I ran across the Alessi Design Company. Not only did they design the perfect Q-Tip dispenser (see top of post), but I found these awesome bathroom accessories lurking on their site:

The cutest stinkin' toilet paper holder ever. No pun intended.

This product, I kid you not, is named "Mr. Suicide, Bathtub plug with float."

Toilet brushes are disgusting, but this is probably the most appealing design for one that I've ever seen.

I love this soap dish! It reminds me of the Lipstick Sofa I posted a while ago.

Happy almost weekend!

Buro fur Form

2010-02-25T11:31:00.000-05:00

I like to check back in on the designers/companies whose work I've been hired to write about. Sort of like an ex-fling, you have fond memories and want to see what they're up to.

That's a really ironic analogy since I'm posting about German design firm Buro fur Form, and the first piece I ever wrote on one of their products was on their sperm-looking Alien Lighting. Listen, E.T. didn't look a THING like that. Well... maybe he did under a microscope.

Buro for Form has been busy since I last checked in on them! Their style is not for everyone, but here are some finds that struck my fancy. What do you think?

These candlesticks are just sexy. It's undeniable.

When I first looked at this thing I had a major "what the ---" moment, but like the tentacles which have sprung from this little spaceman's head, it's growing on me. I still have no clue what it does.

I think this light would make me really anxious if I had it in my house, but I love the idea! I just think I'd subconsciously be waiting for it to drop out of my ceiling.

Alright, seriously. What are the practical applications of this?

...Other than Halloween. I've already thought of a million ways to dress up my Camry for Halloween this year using these things! Assuming my Camry doesn't turn itself on and drive itself away at 100 miles per hour by then.

The First Step is Acceptance.

2010-02-23T16:50:00.004-05:00

Scarlett & I have determined that we are officially snobs. See below.

Rock On, Debra Baxter

2010-02-22T19:00:00.006-05:00

Meet my new art crush: Debra Baxter. Girlfriend's got some seriously sick work, check it out here. Baxter works in a range of media including video, sculpture, and glass, and recreates ordinary objects with extraordinary materials, offering plenty of conceptual food for thought. She toys with ideas of vulnerability and strength (both psychologically and physically),

but these heavy themes are laced with Baxter's own sense of humor.

Her Crystal Brass Knuckles bare the amazing parenthetical aside "I am going to realign your chakras motherf*****), and if you didn't at least smile when you read that, stop reading this blog. Immediately.

For those of you that have a sense of humor and/or pulse, take a moment for her "Silver Bag, Suck It Up" hyperventilation bags. Being slightly neurotic myself (whaaaaat?), I definitely connected with this piece... and on more than a superficial level. I love everything from the concept to the materials to the composition.

The genius of Baxter's work lies in the layers of each piece. A less conceptually-based artist might have gotten tripped up in the one liner or "ha ha" quality of the objects, whereas Baxter's work carries a darker, more thought provoking edge.

Take the work above, for instance. Yes, there's something funny about a Dust Mask made of stone called Catching My Breath - particularly since dust masks are often worn while sculpting stone. But once the "ha ha" wears off, you can't help but be unsettled by the suffocating image of futilely trying to draw air through stone. The simple exchange of a delicate, porous filter material for unyielding, indestructible stone reminds us of the fragility of our own flesh (also ironic in the context of surgical masks) while calling to mind the very natures of strength and vulnerability, protection and force.

...Like I said, girlfriend's got some seriously sick work.

One Woman's Trash...

2010-02-20T16:45:00.000-05:00

...is my new favorite accessory! I rescued this little beauty from Jacksonville's Fans and Stoves Antique Mall, and I haven't been this excited about a piece of jewelry in a LOOOOONG time.

Look at that! Fab and quirky, perfect for me. Since I've been a bit of a globetrotter for the last month, my shopping budget is a bit tight. This has helped me rediscover my love of all things vintage (and raiding my mom's closet).

I snagged this belt in Miami this week; I love the 'tude and snarkiness! Snakeskin with retro snakeskin head clasps? Darling. Particularly when cinching my favorite black shift (and paired with my side-cut-out black booties).

My first ever vintage find was a dusty pink mid-calf length linen dress with gorgeous lace detailing at the bottom. I spotted that gem in NYC's East Village boutique AuH2O, but I'm not sure if they're still doing the vintage thing.

Vintage pieces are amazing because of their character and individuality, and a few choice vintage finds will revitalize your wardrobe (cheaply!) and give you that style-defining oomph to help you make a grand entrance. (Oversized brooch/pendant courtesy of Mom's closet)

Though I enjoy perusing vintage stores, I recommend remembering the cardinal rule: Never Underestimate the Power of Mom. If I'm frantically searching for that conversation piece to elevate my outfit from cute to striking, I can always count on something distinct and charming lurking in the depths of Mom's jewelry box.

Even better than knowing you look gosh darn good in that inimitable way no cheap Bebe-buying tramp could replicate is the feeling of wearing something with roots. I love donning a belt or necklace (like this Siam silver one, formerly my grandmother's!) and knowing that in another time and place it accompanied some other glamorous young thang on her journey to love and greatness!

Simplifiers v. Complicators

2010-02-19T16:13:00.005-05:00

When I grow up, I want to work in advertising.

No, seriously, stop laughing.

I'm currently enrolled in a program for art direction that will at best, unite my writing skills to my graphic design skills in a healthy, happy marriage. At worst, I will walk away with a portfolio that can get me a job. A real, big girl job with a regular paycheck and everything.

I recently read a post (well, a 4 part post series) over at the Ad Contrarian on an issue we look at in our program all the time, which states that there are two kinds of people in advertising - simplifiers and complicators. "A simplifier understands the difference between what is essential and what is peripheral," it theorizes. "To a complicator, on the other hand, everything has equal weight. He is unable to do the most essential of all strategic tasks -- eliminate the unnecessary." Basically, most good strategic ad agencies are looking for people who can simplify. Complicators not welcome.

I thought of this today, because Scarlett called me with news of a dramatic mutual friend of ours. This girl is a classic complicator. Case in point, she always has her next guy set up before she's dumped her current beau. Complicated, right? If she thought of it in the simple context of what is essential, she might recognize that she is constantly unhappy in relationships, and maybe to simplify by taking a step back and evaluating herself first.

Deep thoughts for a Friday, gals.

Make a Splash!

2010-02-18T21:51:00.010-05:00

No matter what time of year you visit Miami, you can't help but think beach. And since I've spent the last 6 days looking at retro architecture and contemporary swimwear, it's no wonder I've craving something retro for summer 2010.

Adorable seersucker one piece up top courtesy of - gasp! - J. Crew. Is it just me, or has J. Crew undergone a fashion facelift? I love the classic blue, but it also comes in a fab warm shade called Bright Mango.

Nautical-inspired gold headband with asymmetrical knot, Anthropologie.

'Miami Chic' airplane studs, Betsey Johnson.

Boy shorts do nothing for my thighs, but the sweetheart neckline and ruching channel vintage silver screen glamour. (Anthropologie)

Crochet and patent leather flat sandal, See by Chloe.

Oversized Square Daria Glasses, Kensie.

I have been dying to find the perfect gigantic floppy hat since I was like, 11. Thank you, Eric Javits!

Possibly my favorite find today! Curls and Coils necklace, Anthropologie.

French sailor bikini, J. Crew.

Criss-Cross Ankle-Wrap Sandals with carved wooden wedge, See by Chloe.

I Get Around.

2010-02-16T18:21:00.004-05:00

I've been AWOL, but an opportunity to assist an amazing, internationally published fashion photographer came up in Miami... and seriously, who says no to that? Not this debutante, obviously!

Five days ago I tossed some mismatched, ambiguously clean clothes in my battered suitcase (sniff test, whaaaat?) and headed south... Now I am broke, exhausted, and resting before my last night out in the world's most irresponsible city. The people here are ridiculous; more on that later.

Miami Rule #1: South Beach boutique hotels are NEVER something to be taken lightly! (ie: my dramatic encounter with Aqua Hotel) It's the Russian Roulette of the hotel world.

Let's review:

After a strife-filled chat with Expedia, I landed at Hotel Nash. It may not be the most charming of South Beach boutique hotels in terms of character or design, but it was clean, affordable, and QUIET. Very important after my encounter with that evil woman at the Aqua. (Still mad about that!) The staff was lovely, and my room was clean... which is saying something given my OCD hotel carpet issues.

Unfortunately, I have yet to develop those "prior planning skills" my parents have been lecturing me about since the day I turned 12... which means I basically relocated every night during my trip. Expedia LOVES me. They screen my calls now.

Next up? A brief stint at the brand-spanking-new Hotel Clifton! The Clifton is much funkier than its sister hotel, the Nash, and is the first green hotel to open on South Beach. This adorable eco-friendly hotel is uber-clean, moderately priced, and stylish in that Charlie-and-the-Chocolate-Factory sort of way. The main hallway had this funky LED light-constantly-changing-color thing going on, which was sort of bizarre... but not nearly as bizarre as the raunchy morning sex antics I heard through the wall. Ew.

Brace yourself, the next place I ended up was Haddon Hall. Ugh, I gagged just looking up pictures of that dump! Do not be fooled by the lobby or middle of the road room rates. This place was the love child between the Bates Motel and your local homeless shelter. I took one look at the carpet and tried to stake it through the heart, but had to settle for eating lots of garlic. The underside of the comforter had a plethora of ambiguous yellow stains - DNA test at your own risk, folks - the shower had "hot water issues", and the entire hotel clanked and heaved as the result of the building next door's pipe system. (So claimed the desk clerk. Obviously it was because the carpet is possessed.)

Haddon Hall scared me so badly I paid double what I wanted to get back to the pristine wall to wall carpeting of the Nash. Unfortunately they were booked for the night after that, so for my last night in Miami I was forced to brave Expedia one last time. After the Haddon Hall Chewbacca-turned-carpet phenomenon, I was taking zero chances so I picked my hotel based on the LACK of carpeting.

The winner was the Delores. What a sigh of relief! It was by far the cleanest of the five Miami boutique hotels I've stayed in, with better decor than the Nash, friendly hotel staff (unlike the Aqua... those jerks), and sans-Clifton morning sex soundtrack. I refuse to even compare this sophisticated beauty with that trainwreck Haddon Hall other than to say the Delores is to Haddon Hall as Nicole Kidman is to Lindsay Lohan. The only critique I could possibly have is that I do love the funkiness of the Clifton... that's half the fun of a boutique hotel, no?

But let's be honest. I don't really care what it looks like as long as the carpet doesn't come with fangs or a case of crabs.

Some Assembly Required

2010-02-09T00:39:00.006-05:00

I've said it before, and I'll say it again: you do your best thinking laying on the kitchen floor with a good friend and a bottle of red wine.

L and I have spent a lot of time reflecting on the last year of our lives lately, which has led to a lot of quality floor time. (But maybe that's because we don't currently own a couch? Who knows.) Just for shits and giggles, let's rehash.

This time last year Daisy and I were both engaged in that great American tradition, post-collegiate floundering... granted, we floundered with unusual wit and unsurpassed style. I had just finished my first temporary freelance editing position, and I had no idea what to do with my life. Somehow college failed to prepare me for a number of things... such as finding a career path, coping with disposal clogs, paying taxes, making non-instant coffee, and the art of hair product. No, really. My hair passes for decent au naturale; I was a bit of a slow learner.

Since February 2009, I have committed to this crazy freelance lifestyle, settled semi-permanently in Charleston, and survived a really bizarre hair product phase that can be described as "sticky" at best and "ravaged by rats" at worst. I also *drumroll, please* own a bed. It's not a futon, and NO, it does not double as a floatation device. Trust me, nothing says "adult" like your first major furniture purchase.

Daisy and I have come a long way this year. Your early 20s are chaotic and messy; no one warns you about that. It's sort of like being handed a ridiculous piece of furniture with the words "Some Assembly Required," and you can't find the manual.

You lose friends, lose your financial security, and you lose your way. But this period of chaos and uncertainty is so vital, because ironically it's how you find your way. I'm not saying I'm suddenly equipped to handle disposal clogs or have ANY idea what to do about my "taxes situation." I'm also not mature enough for the household chore of toilet-cleaning (this drives L up the wall, but she loves me anyway). And I'm still working on ferreting out those last few pairs of "Days of the Week" underpants from my lingerie drawer. "No self-respecting man is going to come home with a grown woman in Days of the Week panties!!!" my roommate insists. She feels the same way about my polka dot sheets, but come on now. Baby steps.

More important than my furniture purchases and surviving year one of owning my own business, even, are the things I found during a year of so much confusion and loss. I'm not going to give you some cliched lecture about finding myself because that's just bad writing and it harkens to the vomit-inducing lyrics of Taylor Swift. But I can tell you that I've found a few really amazing friends, a place that for now feels like home, and I've learned a few things. I've discovered that I have a terrifying amount to learn about life in the real world, but that it's actually not so bad here. I've learned that I'll never be the conventional 9-5, white-picket-fence person my college told me I had be, but you know what? I was never that person in the first place.

And most importantly, I've learned that floundering is an essential part to becoming a worthwhile, interesting adult. Every time I find myself faced with an obstacle and frantically wondering,"WHAT IN THE WORLD AM I DOING WITH MY LIFE?" or more recently "WHAT DO YOU MEAN PUT MY HAND IN THE BACK OF THE TOILET?" I can't help but remember a conversation that took place between myself and my dear Daisy about this time last year.

"I just feel like I'm floundering," I whined into my phone, melodramatically sprawled across my futon-bed.

"I mean, yeah... but what good would our memoirs be without a few dramatic chapters of floundering?" Daisy said.

She's just so wise. I've got some floundering left to go, and after countless glasses of wine on my kitchen floor I'm beginning to suspect that while it may let up some, the floundering is a permanent part of adulthood. Polka dot sheets, however, are not. I'll figure it out eventually. Maybe. I'm pretty sure it's going to work out either way, and it's certainly going to make one hell of a memoir.

Shake It

2010-02-06T00:28:00.013-05:00

Taste Explosion Salt and Pepper Shakers: here

I'm not sure what's going on, but my inner domestic goddess seems to be struggling to come out of hibernation. My roommate and I normally specialize in savory dried oatmeal and gourmet just-add-water noodles, but lately I've found myself becoming "cook-curious." Neither I nor most of my Charleston friends are "culinary geniuses," but you have to start somewhere. And soup seems fine to me. Then again, my friend L recently texted me "Why does my soup say 'condensed' on it? What does that mean?"

Rubik's Cube Salt and Pepper Grinders: here

To appease my inner domestic goddess I decided to post on cute salt and pepper shakers and attempt cooking a turkey burger. One small step for Scarlett, one giant leap for womankind. Then I ran across this post on design-milk.com. SOMEONE STOLE MY IDEA!

Salt and Peeper from World Wide Fred: here

Whatever, I'm posting mine anyway. Enjoy...

Good and Evil Salt and Pepper: here

Fragile Shaker (you have to break it to use it!): here

Anrepo Salt and Pepper Cell: here

Garden of Eden Salt and Pepper: here

Pantone Shakers from Graham and Green: here

Salt and Pepper no. 4 from Designfenzider: here

World Wide Fred's Salt & Pants: here

Jonathan Adler Salt and Pepper Shakers: here

"It Was Acceptable in the 80s"

2010-02-04T12:06:00.017-05:00

(sexy 80s man-hair courtesy of Whitesnake )

Tell me you've heard this Calvin Harris song. It relates so well to the theme of today's post. (Belated thanks to my fab friend A for introducing me to him during thesis my senior year... Daisy remembers!)

I was editing photos at some ungodly hour in the morning rapidly approaching daylight, and the only person nocturnal enough to g-chat with me was L. Somewhere between our 2:31 AM ramblings on cheese (L***: GOD ALL I WANT IS SOME FREAKING CHEESE BUT I ATE ALL THE CHEESE I HAVE) and our 3:50 AM analysis of my wardrobe, we hit conversational gold: 80s power ballads / music videos.

(overly creative band photography and nipple slip courtesy of Journey)

Have you watched any lately? Probably not. But you probably weren't cloning zits off a total stranger at 3:50 in the morning either, were you? Yeah, that's the repulsive foil to my trips to Vegas and Miami. Sometimes being a photographer is downright disgusting.

As we traded tragically emotional songs and bizarre videos, I realized it was just too good not to share with my fellow cheeky debutantes. Take a moment and check some of these out, it will make your day. Even if you're cloning chin hairs at 2 in the morning. I promise.

Hands down, my favoritel! Men at Work: Land Down Under.

Emotional Binge-listening? Don't mind if I do... Mr. Mister: Broken Wings.

That hair? That stare? Those earrings? Ugh, love it. George Michael: Careless Whisper.

The creep factor is really high on this one, brace yourself. Culture Club: Do You Really Want to Hurt Me?

I don't care if it was the 80s, this was NOT acceptable. Weirdly, L did some sort of routine to this for one of her dance classes... Please, God, let someone have video footage of that! Not What Was: Walk the Dinosaur

5 Things You Didn't Know You Needed

2010-02-03T22:26:00.004-05:00

Let me introduce another "Miami Vice" I picked up: Surface to Air. I found the dress above at Barney's and somehow managed to restrain myself. The photo doesn't quite do it justice, but the dress made me look like a naughty little fairy. J was there when I tried it on, and we both agreed that it should be worn with green shoes... what do you think?

I'm sitting here in Charleston trying NOT to spend money... meaning I'm window shopping with the speed and finesse of an Olympic hurdler. Naturally I got to digging around on the Surface to Air website. Here are a few things I've added to my extensive wish list:

The whimsical quality of this dress makes me happy, but the styling on the outfit below makes me even happier. I'm a huge fan of sweater dresses; they have such a classic throw-back quality. Like a scandalous librarian... underappreciated yet perpetually hot.

Once again I've gravitated to the distressed look. Raaaaar, sexy! Dirty, worldly-wise, wrinkled, and possibly smelly... just how I like my men. Kidding! Or am I.........? You'd have to ask Daisy about that one.

It's a Boy!

2010-02-02T14:34:00.009-05:00

Two things inspired this post. The first is that my sister popped out my first nephew yesterday, an adorable bundle of strawberry blonde goodness. Kudos, sis! (I already have a lovely little niece, so now she's provided me with the complete set!)

My second inspiration stems from a visit to one of my new favorite Charleston coffee shops, Hope and Union. (A precious couple from New York turned a historic home in a homey spot with fantastic vanilla lattes... yum.)

I was sipping my latte and listening to some man (read: eavesdropping) with a donkey-esque laugh. All the sudden he shouted, "I HAVE REPRODUCED!"

I all but spewed my latte. When/if I ever pop out a kid the father better have the EXACT SAME reaction.

Anyway, all this got me to thinking about my role as aunt/godmother, and how crucial it is that I give fabulous presents so I can be "cool Aunt Scarlett." In my quest for the toddlers' official stamp of approval, I've done extensive internet searching on cool kid stuff. Here are the winners:

Tim Burton cards from the MOMA, score! I'm going wait til the kiddies get a little older before breaking out the Burton. As much as I'm obsessed with his work, the wee ones need to develop an appreciation for the slightly macabre first. Maybe once they turn 2?

This toy tree house is just darling. The description had so many eco-friendly specs that I have no idea what it's made of, but I'm convinced buying it would save the planet.

Check out the shadow puppets from Fawn and Forest (also pictured at top of post). These should enhance their appreciation of cool graphic art... Look at me trying to mold their young minds already, just shameless!

Honestly I have no idea what to do with a male child as he gets older. The one thing I am DEFINITELY looking forward to, however, is the puddle-stomping/mud-pie age. The best part of being a kid! My mom actually nicknamed me "Puddle Duck" growing up. My nephew will hopefully grow into my baby galoshes, which looked nowhere as chic as these from Polarn O. Pyret.

I actually did buy these MOMA plush petit fours for my niece, which is funny since she's a fledgling foodie. The kid loves brie and spinach artichoke dip, and she makes stealthy grabs for my red wine like it's her job... a wee debutante after my own heart!

I think my next present to my niece - Little C, as we call her - should be ballet shoes from Cupcake Boutique. Little C is always impeccable dressed (thanks to my stylish sister), but as Martha points out, if I was any sort of real godmother I would hand make her and my nephew these felt booties:

Listen Martha, this fairy godmother set off the fire alarm last night just trying to make soup. Buzz off!

Patron Saints of Style

2010-02-01T00:28:00.008-05:00

Miami added many fabulous things to my list of favorite vices, such as cucumber martinis, Sushi Samba, bottle service, and mocking male models. It also introduced me to AllSaints, my hipster grunge crush. The storefront had vintage sewing machines lined up floor to ceiling -UGH, so cool!
Normally I'm not into branded jewelry, but a padlock? Oh, STOP! I need it. The best thing about AllSaints (other than their kickass look and attitude) is that they have everything from gloves and jeans to itty-bitty hipster kids' clothes... for the angsty toddler in your life.

The fusion of edgy and feminine is lovely, but the detail work is where it's at. Check out the buttons on those leather gloves, or the adorable little laces on this wedge. What? Not convinced? Well, kiddo, I've thrown in a couple of asymmetrical necklines and surprising zippers below!

Even if leather, fringe, and padlocks aren't your thing (and who ARE you, if they're not), I've included some of AllSaints girlier pieces below. I love this silver top with the black tie, it's divine.

The only issue I have with AllSaints is that cleaning out their entire store isn't "quite" within my budget right now. How can you not love this line? If Urban Outfitters grew up, grew a pair, and then sprouted some originality, they might someday resemble AllSaints' slightly inbred 2nd cousin... but unfortunately I'll have to be content with UO until AllSaints decides to open a Charleston store.

Miami Wrap Up (pt 3)

2010-01-31T12:11:00.012-05:00

Overall Miami was incredible, and I'm actually trying to make it back again in a few weeks. J and I spent a lot of time just driving around, looking at retro motels, art deco buildings, and the beauty of Key Biscayne... my life is tough, I know.

One thing we weren't able to check out was Jimbo's on Virginia Key. J has shot there a number of times for work, and I'm dying to see it! It's basically a quirky old Florida hangout where you can buy beer, smoked fish, and check out a lot of colorful shacks that may or may not have played a role in CSI: Miami, Flipper, and Ace Ventura.

The other highlights of my last 24 hours in Miami were mostly food-related, since I spent a considerable amount of time recovering from a "slight" hangover and J had castings. (Including one for my beloved Bottega Veneta! If you love me, buy me this.)

Sushi Samba (pictured above) made all my dreams come true with their Samba Dromo Roll: Maine lobster, mango, tomato, chive, crispy rice, soy paper, and peanut curry... yuuuuuum!!

The 11th Street Diner was seriously cute and charming, and the food was good as well. Not mind-blowing, but the atmosphere made up for it.

Also on my list to check out when I go back? Dune Oceanfront Burger Lounge at the Ritz Carlton on Key Biscayne. M brought this to J's attention in the guise of Kobe Beef Sliders with foie gras and picolit grape jam, but I'm dying to see that gorgeous outdoor seating area. Gorgeous!

"Bienvenidos a Miami..." (pt 2)

2010-01-30T11:35:00.002-05:00

I loathe that other Miami song; I'll stick with my outdated Will Smith reference. Back to the finer points of my trip!

Seeing as J and I both get paid to promote the fashion industry, it makes perverse sense that we immediately put all of our money back into said industry. Since I'm fresh off my trip to Vegas, I'm on a budget. I'll post some of my favorite finds another day, but I'd like you to meet my newest "sole" mate.

I saw this shoe and immediately heard Is This Love in my head (best video EVER), and kids, that's how you know it's true love. Half biker chick, half secretary, all cheeky debutante.

Shopping left us famished, so J and I lunched at the Cafe at Books & Books on Lincoln Road. J is the biggest foodie I know - strange, for a model - so she has impeccable taste in restaurants.

J ordered the South Florida Seafood Salad (scallops, shrimp & calamari in a light olive oil and lime vinaigrette), and I ordered the South Beach Sandwich (hand carved roasted turkey, brie, pear & mango chutney butter). My mouth is watering thinking about it! Check out their website for the full drool-worthy menu.

After more shopping, we met up with J's man-friend, M, a sommelier at Miami hotspot Area 31. When the two of them start talking about food it gets downright pornographic! We grabbed drinks and dinner at fabulous Ocean Drive hotel Pelican.

Pelican is actually the GOOD sort of boutique hotel, unlike my hotel with paper mache walls and an evil desk manager, and is actually the first hotel venture from Diesel. Each of Pelican's 30 rooms was designed by Swedish decorator Magnus Ehrland with a different theme in mind, ranging from "Executive Fifties" to "Best Whorehouse."

The critically acclaimed restaurant offers amazing views and awesome food, I got the Tropical Crab Salad (crab, papaya, mango, amazingness) and M got some sort of cheesy, prosciutto, basil goodness. I had to restrain myself from shoving my face in it. We all got a couple of stiff cocktails, which in retrospect may have been a bad idea.

J and I departed from M for a wardrobe change, and then it was off to the Delano for some shameless behavior. The Delano is ridiculous in a way completely opposite of my experience in Vegas. Whereas XS was over-the-top-clubby, the Delano is sleek and glamorous. (No middle-aged Lords of the Dance this time.) White curtains hang from the ceilings along a long corridor of open spaces, a long rectangular pool offers a breathtaking view outside, and the crowd is equally chic and beautiful.

We met up with J's photographer friend and his posse of models and stylists. Holy crap, these people were gorgeous! Well, there was this one weird-looking guy who immediately started lurking around J, but whatever. J's friend is basically a photography rock star; he shoots for V magazine! So jealous! But once again, bottle service would quickly be my downfall. After soaking up more vodka than the Surgeon General would approve of, we headed downstairs.

Mad dancing rapidly ensued... I'm not kidding, mad. Someone's dance move delivered a full-on punch to my neck, but when you're enjoying bottle service at 2:30 AM in a club in Miami, you don't really care.

The night ended with J and I both being a little nutso, a story I'm going to skip for this post, but I will say that when I dragged my hungover butt out of bed the next morning I discovered a plethora of drink stains on my beloved silk mod dress. A small price to pay for a fantastic, surreal night... Lord, what IS my life lately?!

"Welcome to Miami..." (pt 1)

2010-01-29T22:49:00.010-05:00

Oh, don't you even PRETEND you don't remember that song! While I've always harbored secret feelings for Will Smith's masterpiece and CSI: Miami's mind-blowing (or mind-numbing?) one liners, I had never really had a chance to bond with Florida's most fabulous city until this week.

One of my best friends from high school, J, is currently living and modeling in Miami, so I went down to visit her. She kindly helped me book a hotel during my drive down. "Budget?" she texted. "As cheap as possible but where I'm still willing to touch the carpet." I texted back.

The great thing about being friends with someone you've known since you were 14 is that they know exactly what you mean nearly all the time. Since both J and I are a wee bit on the stranger side of Not Normal, she knew to book a hotel WITHOUT carpet. Rough finished concrete floors? An OCD hypochondriac's dream come TRUE! ...Well, almost.

Very little dreaming happened my first night at the boutique hotel Aqua. I normally love the idea of boutique hotels (themes, sparse but modern design, a great collection of non-Conde Nast magazines), but the problem with sleeping an all concrete box is that it's like trying to sleep inside a popcorn machine. I'm getting ahead of myself.

J and I went straight to dinner. We picked some sort of above average sushi restaurant...

actually, the sushi was a little weird. But the sake was great, and so were the drinks we got later that evening while people watching. The people watching in Miami is almost as good as the people watching in Vegas, but I'm sure it's better in the summer.

I got a raspberry mojito - delicious. J got an AMAZING Chu-Cumber "chu-hi." The toughest part was ordering it without sounding like an idiot, but basically it was a new and improved version of a cucumber martini. It's made with shochu (not a clue, so don't ask), St. Germain Elderflower, and cucumber. After lots of people watching (read: judging weird people) and catching up, we decided to crash.

I happily padded across my carpet-free floor and hopped into bed (without touching the comforter, duh), but at 2:00 in the morning, I was still listening to my next door neighbor with the obnoxious laugh watch YouTube videos. Honestly, it wasn't her fault. Our cute boutique hotel was the sound equivalent of a friggin' pinball machine. Finally this debutante had had enough, so I went to the lobby and very sweetly requested a room change. Thus began a half hour long saga wherein the hotel lady sent me to a series of random rooms and made me stand there for several minutes to gauge the noise level before returning to the lobby.

Since, for no apparent reason, she was strongly opposed to answering questions BEFORE I saw a given room, she would then inevitably inform me that it was much more expensive than my original room, and I should go look at another room. Naturally, she insisted she had no idea if people were staying on either side of the room while staring at her top secret color-coded hotel chart with her devious, beady eyes. We did not part friends.

My inner Scarlett flared up around 2:32 in the morning while standing in my 5th room at the hotel Aqua. I made a rather huffy comment about it being the loudest hotel I had EVER encountered during my extensive time spent in hotels across this great nation, and she made a less than charming retort about it not being a 5 star hotel, so what did I expect.

Certainly not customer service, apparently! I'm pretty sure I gave her my best pissed Scarlett O'Hara before flouncing up to my new room. Where my new neighbor's sneeze blasted through our paper-thin wall like a machine gun around 7:15. Lasting impression? I am very seriously reconsidering my thoughts on boutique hotels!

Leaving on a Jet Plane

2010-01-25T23:48:00.008-05:00

This debutante has been a girl on the move lately! I drafted this post on my way down to Miami, but I'm just now getting around to actually putting it up. All this travel has made me think rather seriously about luggage.

Valextra does amazing work, and I love the clean lines of this bag. Could you ever check white leather though? I think I'll wait to buy this until my private jet arrives.

I adore the vamp factor on this Hartmann bag, and it's nice to see a suitcase that will accessorize your uber-chic travel outfit of choice rather than scream "baggage."

The finish of this Tusting bag is Crazyhorse Leather in Aztec, and the world-savvy, experienced backpacker look is totally appealing. Can't you just picture it on a safari?

I've got to be honest, I normally don't have much love for Louis, but the color combo on this suitcase set my heart aflutter. It's so fun, feminine and classic. Gimme.

The warm tone of this leather is so chic; Hartmann does great work. If I meet a sexy male travel writer on my next flight, I'll know it's love if he's carrying one of these.

To up the fun factor, I've added this vintage-inspired suitcase. I'm not sure how practical it would be to carry while sprinting to a last minute connection, but it's so darn cute. Oh, and it's made out of cardboard. What?! Read about it here.

Mission Impossible: Bag Shopping

2010-01-22T16:12:00.004-05:00

I have a confession. I loathe bag shopping. Shoes? Clothes? Totally impractical dresses? Sign me up, baby! But bags? Hell no.

I think it's because choosing a bag is much more like finding a relationship than your ordinary shopping excursion. A dear friend of mine, also named L, was mugged a year ago, and she was so traumatized by the forcible removal of her handbag - or maybe it was the nasty smack to the head at the hands of two "Kevin Federline look-alikes" - that she's been unable to replace her beloved purse. L mourns it like a lost relationship, I'm not kidding.

Lord knows when left to my own devices I've been known to bring home all sorts of bizarre male specimens, so it makes sense that bag shopping would cause me equal trepidation. Trust me, no one wants to see my last relationship reincarnated in bag form.

Unfortunately, I gravitate towards bags that Daisy politely describes as "a little aggressive for everyday"... God, isn't she adorable?

It's time to replace my beloved Kenneth Cole (aka Black Beauty) before someone mistakenly tries to stake the poor thing through the heart. But don't worry, Daisy will of course help me filter the candidates. After all, isn't that what best friends are for?

Window Shopping: 1) Classic Q Hillier by Marc by Marc Jacobs 2) Crossbody Hobo by Botkier 3) Rouch Hour Large Hobo by Kenneth Cole 4) Nikki by Rebecca Minkoff 5) Loveletter Satchel by Rebecca Minkoff

Scarlett's Faves and Flops: Golden Globes 2010

2010-01-18T18:25:00.000-05:00

Faves:

Love Nicole's floor length frock, the lines are perfect for her! The silhouette and color on this blue dress are fabulous.
Check out that tie with the fabric of the jacket. Well done! Jennifer Garner is a favorite of mine. This dress is simple, elegant, and slimming.

Mother-to-be Amy Adam's ensemble is precious. LOVE the shoes and that clutch. Kate Hudson looks fantastic, check out the sleek lines of that gown and her shoes!

This beautiful black dress seems to be getting mixed reviews, but I love it. Particularly in the light of the absurd amounts of cleavage this year. Maggie Gyllenhaal's dress is stunning, but unfortunately it didn't photograph well, and looks washed out in most pictures.

I'm a sucker for sparkle, and these two dresses are basically my ultimate fashion dream. Other notably well dressed individuals? Robert Downey Jr looked great, as did the ever-adorable Heidi Klum!

Flops:

Now I love Julia and Tea, but wtf? Did the Golden Globes forget to put their dress code on the invitation? Yikes.

Feeeeeeeergie, WHAT is with your hair? And this bizarre ruffly pink thing? Barbie called. She wants her dress back, bitch.

Harrison is either flying for Delta on the sly or raiding my dad's closet, I'm not sure which is worse. And Anna Paquin's dress is just a bit much.

That beige thing is so wrong, I don't know where to start. 1) That color? Yuck. 2) This is not what I would term "figure-friendly" 3) Is that made out of Sham-Wows? And Drew, when it comes to jewel encrusted sculptural appendages, I might say that less is more.

And Christina Aguilera's dress was so atrocious, I refuse to let it pollute this blog!

Waking Up in Vegas... (The Hangover, Part 3)

2010-01-17T11:36:00.017-05:00

Waking up in Vegas was a lot less Katy Perry and a lot more The Hangover... Kind of like this, only sans Bradley Cooper, which would have made it a lot less painful.

L woke us up at noon by jumping up and down on the bed in a towel - ew. He had already taken a bubble bath while on the phone with his girlfriend. Men are so odd. He was refreshed enough to bound across the room and dig out the video camera he had brought out the night before. Ah, blackmail material!

"What happened last night?" P groaned. He cracked an eye open, "Did some old guy rub ice on you?" and before I could protest, L jumped back onto the bed with the most heinous video footage ever. HE HAS FOOTAGE OF LORD OF THE DANCE'S ICE MASSAGE. It was so heinous, in fact, that I refuse to comment on it. But I will say that apparently I have only 3 dance moves, none of which are about to qualify me for Dancing with the Stars!

L finally put some damn clothes on and herded us out of the hotel while we pieced the night together. "You lost some guy TEN GRAND!" L laughed. I said something snappy about Miss Venezuela, and he threateningly whipped out the video footage. What we found, instead of my Cirque-du-Soleil-meets-the-ice-man incident, was a clip of P very tipsily but very firmly talking to a Norwegian girl.

"Seriously," he declares huffily, I have never had cock before in my life." ...Pardon me, WHAT is going on here?

We dragged our sorry butts to Society, one of Esquire's 2009 Best Restaurant picks, and Encore's newest hotspot, a semi-casual dining option featuring exciting, moderns twists on traditional American fare. Like most of Vegas, the decor makes you feel like you're high or have joined the circus, but the food is to DIE for!

Mac 'n Cheese Bites with truffle dipping sauce, Charred Tuna or Sloppy Joe Sliders, and halibut Fish and Chips. After munching on Grandma Rose's meatballs and pretzel bread (in place of bread you get hot soft pretzels with mustard butter!), I got the Lobster Club Roll. It came with seasoned fries and house made ketchup, which gave me a reason to keep living despite my headache,

(Interesting fact: after these last 3 entries, Google Adsense thought it was appropriate to post an "Alcoholism Rehab" ad on the side of our blog. Hmmm...)

After a brief run-in with Jermaine Jackson, who was dressed like a cross between a Village People escapee and a boy scout, we went up to see team senior citizen's sick penthouse suite. L was considering shooting there, so we wanted to get a look at the place. It looked like this:

And had views like this:

This $15,000-a-night 2 story Encore penthouse came with 4 bedrooms, 4 bathrooms that doubled as steam rooms, a massage room, 2 kitchens, a billiards room, a living room, and a two-story panoramic windows with views of the strip.

L and P accepted Senior Citizen #4's offer to crash there that night, since the rest of the crew had made an impromptu decision to go to LA, but I had no intentions of sleeping anywhere near any of those creepers, so this debutante hightailed it back to the Trump.

I found them the next morning doing a photo shoot in the suite that quickly took a scandalous turn. One of the models clearly thought she was auditioning for the AVN, which got awkward rather quickly. After shooting came a hardcore nap, sightseeing, dinner, and one of my favorite parts of the trip... Le Reve!

Le Reve was directed by the same man who does a lot of the Cirque du Soleil productions, and it was the perfect conclusion to the wild ride that was our trip to Vegas. It was beautiful, exotic, and mind-blowing; I have NO idea how the cast members are able to do any of those feats. If you ever get the opportunity to see one of the shows, you definitely have to do it!

So after managing to lose some guy $10,000 in under a minute, dancing in a pool at 4 AM, seeing Jermaine Jackson, and hanging out in a $15,000 a night penthouse suite... it's time to return to the "real" world I guess!

Vegas Vacation (The Hangover, Part 2)

2010-01-15T17:40:00.015-05:00

Day 2 began with L and I forcibly removing a hungover P from our hotel room to make it to CES. Trying to keep up with Tati the Tub Girl can nearly kill a person, as L and I found out that night! CES was fabulous. They had everything from 3D TVs to a room covered in screens to candy-colored computers.

After some amazing porn star-spottings in a casino, the boys and I headed out for the night. Like any good debutante, I was decked out in sequins! Little did I know what the night held...

We met Tati at Encore with her friend who I SWEAR was the spitting image of Tila Tequila. Tati and Tila were standing at a craps table with the rest of their "friends"... who happened to be a group of 50-ish wealthy men from New York. This is when I began wondering what I was getting into. Listen, I'm all about older men, but really? Senior citizens? Ear hair just ain't my thing.

But then the senior citizens walked right up to Encore's newest over-the-top nightclub, XS, skipped the line, got the second best booth in the place, and got bottle service for everyone in the group. I can understand how this might appeal two Vegas tub girls!

XS is just insane. After a little too much Grey Goose and WAY too much Patron, L and I hit the dance floor. We came back to the booth and HOLY SHIT, but one of the senior citizens had lost his damn mind. Or done a lot of coke. All I know is he turned into an epileptic Lord of the Dance. There is nothing quite like watching someone your father's age stand on a table and hip thrust while pumping his fists! My retinas? Scarred.

I turned around to talk (read: flirt tipsily) with an age-appropriate gentleman (read: male gymnast) when all the sudden I felt something cold and wet on the back of my neck... NEVER a good sign in a club. I whirled around to find Lord of the Dance rubbing ice on my neck! I kid you not. RETREEEEEAT!

I spun around to make a hasty exit, only to find I had been abandoned by my male gymnast. Seeing as Lord of the Dance had just interrupted his emphatic monologue on his love of wolves (he was from a small town in Montana, who knows?), and his dream of joining Cirque du Soleil. In my Patron-haze, I was disappointed. It's for the best. I love Cirque du Soleil, but I certainly never want to wake up next to it. (See Below.)

Since I had been abandoned by Captain Cirque, and L was chatting up Miss Venezuela - our lives are ridiculous - that left me with one escape route. I grabbed P and took off for the dance floor again, only to make a shocking discovery. I thought the club was semi-circular with a massive window. That would be far too mundane for Vegas, friends. Instead the club opened up directly into a massive outdoor pool area with a gazebo!!

And because it was 3 AM in Vegas, and we were having bottle service, and I had just hit on a Cirque du Soleil hopeful, and I was 23 and wearing sequins, dammit, I said what the hell? I'M DANCING IN THAT POOL! And we did. And it was fabulous.

Wait, you thought the outrageous events of my night were over? Pft, not quite. P, L, and I were exhausted and inebriated, so it was time to leave XS. "Where's the next place?" Lord of the Dance asked me. I looked frantically about for allies, but the boys were MIA, and Tati the Tub Girl and Tila had vanished at some unidentified point in the night. Another senior citizen grabbed me by the arm and whisked me off to the craps table while the rest of our party followed suit.

"It's your first trip to Vegas, roll for me!" Senior Citizen #3 demanded. "Oh, aaaaaaabsolutely not," I retorted. "ROLL FOR ME!" he insisted loudly. "That is a terrible idea," I assured him. "Come on, it's your first trip to Vegas! You'll be lucky!" he bellowed. "But I'm not athletic," I said stupidly. Damn tequila.

So I rolled for him, and................ lost him $10,000 in 30 seconds. P grabbed me and we bolted, while L made a quick apology. A fellow senior citizen told L it was ok, they had lost $60,000 last night so this was nothing. L found P and I looking for the taxi line while giggling uncontrollably and fighting a horrible case of the hiccups. Clearly, we were in a state of shock.

L, being the wisest one of the group, ushered us into a cab and directed the driver to McDonalds. Obviously. Because it was now 4 AM, and we were in Vegas, and everyone knows the only cure for late night hiccups is McDonalds. And thus ended the second day in Vegas.

Viva Las Vegas! (The Hangover, Part 1)

2010-01-14T14:10:00.009-05:00

I honestly have no idea where to begin to tell this story, but I'm going to try give you the Cliff's Notes version rather than the ridiculous E! True Hollywood story it actually was.

Our trip started out like most trips to Vegas, I assume. Amazing food, gambling, taking in the lights, drinking copious amounts of alcohol. The first sign that this might not be a "normal" weekend in the City of Sin occurred when we (P, L, and I) realized that in addition to CES (That's Consumer Electronics Show, the world's biggest nerd-fest. Yes, we attended), Las Vegas was also hosting the AVN Awards that weekend.

What? You don't know what the AVN is?!?! No worries, neither did I! It's the Adult Video Network. Think of it as the Oscars of Porn. People apparently take these awards rather seriously, so to catch the rest of us up to speed, I've listed some of these prestigious Award Categories below:

Best All-Girl Group Sex Scene

Best Anal Release

Best Big Butt Series

Best Foot/Leg Fetish Release

Best Orgy/Gang Bang Release

Best Transexual Series

MILF/Cougar of the Year Award

..."OMG!! Best Big Butt Award?! This is a dream come TRUE!! I'd like to thank my agent, the Academy, and my parents, for always believing in me!"...

Ah! I digress. The people-watching was absolutely absurd, but this also provides a bit of context for the rest of the story. Night one, L and I were exhausted and crashed around 1 AM. P decided to meet up with an old friend, Tatiana, and her Ed Hardy-clad beau, DC.

Let's introduce the cast of characters from our weekend. I genuinely adore Tatiana and DC, however, to say that we live very different lives is the world's greatest understatement. I'm a wedding photographer. DC hosts at Haze, where P ended up drinking bottle service with Tatiana and some porn producers until 4:45 in the morning.

Tatiana, or Tati as everyone calls her, is a part-time model and more recently, Tao "tub girl." What on earth?! Yeah, that's what I said. In Vegas, being a Tao tub girl is actually rather prestigious. In simple layman's terms, Tati gets paid to lay in a bathtub. Wearing the world's tiniest rose petal-covered thong and flower pasties. (See example below. And no, this is not Tati the Tub Girl. This was the most PG-rated picture I could find on Google Image Search)

All I'm saying is that I've laid in my fair share of bathtubs, people, and not ONCE has someone tried to pay me for it!! The injustice of it all!

Having set the scene for our story, I'm going to leave you wanting more for now... Was it good for you?

Waking Up in Vegas...

2010-01-14T02:09:00.003-05:00

I don't think I ever really appreciated that Katy Perry song until I actually went to Vegas, but having (barely) survived my first trip to the City of Sin has given me new-found respect for both Waking Up In Vegas and The Hangover.

It's possible I'm still recovering from a hangover - 48 hours later - but it wasn't too far off from this! Anyway, I'll leave you with the short-short-short rundown of my epic Vegas trip:

1) computer geeks and the Adult Film Awards

2) bottle service with senior citizens

3) dancing in a pool at 4 AM

4) losing $10,000 in under 2 minutes

5) Jermaine Jackson

6) $15,000-a-night penthouse at the Encore

...no, seriously.

Honorary Escort: Matthew Gray Gubler part 2

2010-01-07T14:30:00.008-05:00

Dear Fellow Debutantes,

As you may recall, about a month ago Daisy and I voted Matthew Gray Gubler as our first Honorary Debutante Escort. Naturally we had to notify Mr. Gubler of his newly bestowed and esteemed title! We explained, "Your work, good sir, officially rocks... and we decided we must take action. Such quirky awesomeness shall not go unacknowledged, not on our watch!"

While Matthew is too busy being ridiculously awesome to personally attend to two odd yet charming debutantes, one of Matthew's minions was assigned to handle our case. Please behold: a response from Gublerland!

Dear Scarlett

Thank you so much for the super kind words.

Matthew treasures your support, thoughtfulness, and great spelling.

Sadly, (as much as he wishes he could) it's physically impossible for Matthew to personally respond to each and every letter we get here at Gublerland. So it is my job to make sure the super special letters, like this one,

are printed out for him to read, enjoy, and save forever in a special place.

Again, Matthew thanks you from the bottom of his heart

Love,

Geeselund the Mail Monster of Gublerland

p.s.

I have attached a photograph of me reading your letter, as well as a picture of a baby otter.

cheers!

...Brilliant! A baby otter is the absolute fastest way to a girl's heart (other than Marc Jacobs, obviously). Seriously, we love this guy. And his minions.

Beware the Chair

2010-01-07T00:55:00.007-05:00

(Roots Chair by Yuliyan Mikov)

I've been thinking about my butt a lot lately.

Maybe it's because of the New Year's fitness frenzy, maybe it's because it's my best asset. Or maybe it's because I've developed a paranoia that all this time sitting at a computer is resulting in unfortunate weight redistribution. I'm convinced my beloved and occasionally revered bum has flattened out, redistributing the weight to the sides rather than the back where it ought to be. This, my darlings, is NOT a welcome migration.

It obviously has nothing to do with the amount of cheese/champagne/dark chocolate I consume, but everything to do with WHAT I am sitting on. Placing one's bottom on something unattractive makes one's bottom unattractive by osmosis. It's science, people.

Migrating bottoms, never fear. I've combed the internet on your behalf, and behold: creative chair design!

The design of Sebastian Brajkovic's Lathe V chair reminds me a bit too much of what happened to my rear whilst fighting the freshman fifteen.

One word: Badass (.......get it?!) Alexander Reh's Fully Loaded Chair is made of 388 spent 12 gauge shotgun shells, and the result is dead sexy.

Design Drift's Ghost Chair contains an eerie looking form, which is actually millions of tiny air bubbles encased in plexiglass.

Dejana Kabiljo's bizarre PRETTYPRETTY heads to sit on collection (via Yatzer).

I have no idea how comfortable or practical this would be, but I would love to own Daniel Libeskind's Spirit House Chair. Gorgeous!

New Year's Resolutions in 1080p.

2010-01-06T10:27:00.004-05:00

Um, I'm usually not a New Year's Resolution "person." I mean, I think just about everyone has the desire to change things in their lives, and I am not immune to that, persay, but I don't see the reason to wait until the 365th day of the year to decide to change.

But I have two this year that I will document right here on Cheeky Debutantes:

1) Do/learn something new every month, affectionately known as the New Challenge.

2) Be healthier.

Re: 1) It is easy to get in a rut here in Chicago. Most of my friends from high school and college live in the area, and basically, everyone seems to go to the same 5 bars. All the time. Every weekend. Coupled with my AD program, and it's a recipe to get into a rut. So it changes in 2010. It's not that I'm not meeting new people or that I don't enjoy hanging out with my friends at the same old places, because I am and I do. It's just I don't want my mind to turn to mush, or just an art direction machine. I will document each experience here and expect you to hold me accountable for my "new-ness!"

Re: 2) I'm kind of an athlete. I say "kind of" because in the past three years, I have run two marathons, several half marathons, and gosh darn it, I am always down for a bike ride on good old Lake Shore Drive. However, since I was injured during my race in October, my fitness has been derailed. I've been feeling, um loose, in places that pretty much never have been. More than that though, with my schedule of night classes has resulted in 4:30 pm dinners and 10 pm "second dinners" when I get home. I think the sumo wrestlers follow the same strict diet plan. I need to eat more motherfucking vegetables and avoid the 7/11 slump of just picking up whatever cheap carb is convenient. Let's be honest though, anyone who knows Scarlett and I knows there's always room for an occasional cheese fries in any healthy diet.

Anyway, that means I am re-committing to my health, trying to work out regularly and eat some mo-fo veggies. Like 5 servings, everyday is the goal. So far, so good. To jumpstart my fitness, I am doing Jillian Michael's 30 Day Shred. I've been a fan of The Biggest Loser for years, and last night's season premiere indicates that this will be a dramatic, fun season. Anyway, Jillian is the trainer on TBL, and as my future sister-in-law and my sister have both completed and raved about this DVD, I figured I'd give it a shot. It's supposed to be ridiculously hard, but I don't know how to weight-train and don't want to look like a complete ass-hat at my gym trying. Day 1 of Shred - begins now.

From the Files of Daisy's Ex-Boyfriends, Volume 1.

2010-01-06T10:12:00.004-05:00

A year ago today, I swore off an on-again, off-again boyfriend (He Who Must Not Be Named or HWMNBN) of the most vile variety. He cheated when we were senior's in college, and almost a seven months later, after a visit to California, and after he helped me find movers to come back to Chicago, I was still opportunistically allowing him, to paraphrase John Mayer, to high-five my nether regions. In short, it made me feel dirty. And NOT in a good way. I've always been a relationship girl, emotionally and physically monogamous, so this in-between status had gone on too long.

It was this day last year where we were in his apartment, watching a movie or something, while he was unpacking groceries, when my alarm finally went off. I just simply asked him if he ever saw us getting back together or not.

HWMNBN said no.

I knew he would, but it still hurt. I decided I definitely could not be friends with him. It would be too emotionally traumatizing. After many tearful calls to Scarlett, I moved on. Big time. The new And when that relationship ended, too, although more maturely and with no infidelity, Scarlett was there again.

And you know what? I spoke to a mutual friend of ours and found out the girl HWMNBN had cheated on me with had subsequently become his girlfriend in February of 2008. And that she moved to Chicago in September of 2009 to be closer to him. To her, I say, get the fuck out. This guy is bad news, and although, personally, I don't want to know you, I am sure you are a nice enough person. You don't deserve it and get the fuck out.

Now, a year later, I am forced to ask myself objectively if I am better. I don't know. I certainly feel better that I've moved on from such an emotionally tumultuous affair. HWMNBN makes random appearances in my life, like running into him at a bar with the newer model, a post for another day, who we'll call Ryan Dylan. I've seen him at parties, or out on the street once or twice, and all I feel for him is pity. Plus, his hairline is receding, and ladies, there is no better feeling than running into an ex the best you've ever been and him at his less-than-prime.

It's a Naan-Party

2010-01-05T09:57:00.003-05:00

I've never really gotten into New Year's resolutions, most likely because I lack the organizational skills to keep track of what I've resolved to do/not do. However, this year my dear friend, who shall be called L in this post (apparently all my friends' names start with L), and I have made a resolution: It's time for the end of the naan!

Don't get me wrong, I adore Indian food. My brother-in-law is half Indian! His father, quirky little man, used to force feed me dozens of samosas for breakfast on Thanksgiving. Nothing like starting America's binge-eating holiday with Indian-induced heartburn. (Pet peeve: he vehemently insists he'll catch a cold if his bald spot gets wet.)

Anyway, L and I sprawled out of my kitchen floor drinking red wine per the usual and discussing our various romantic endeavors. L ranted about her non-boyfriend of over a year's non-ex-non-wife and his non-baby, and then we moved on to my most recent non-relationship with a non-suitor who not only had 7 other non-relationships simultaneously but happened to be more than a decade my senior. Read how ridiculous that entire statement is!

All these nons gave us a serious case of the giggles, which resulted us hopping around (wine firmly in hand) and shouting, "DOWN WITH THE NAAN!" ...And I wonder why the doctor living downstairs scurries inside with a panicked eyes each time our paths cross?

While many resolutions are spawned by red-wine-fueled moments of clarity, ours is certainly more legitimate than most. We're solidifying our anti-non vow with a naan-party at our favorite Indian restaurant, and thus putting an end to all this "non" foolishness! No more non-boyfriends, non-ex-boyfriends, non-relationships, and assorted non-sexual encounters. It's 2010, down with the naan!