If you ever go to a department store breakfast reception, eat first. Do it or you'll spend the morning balancing cups and saucers and lukewarm mini-quiches (that you don't really want anyway) and attempting to gracefully ingest cantaloupe while you mingle amid the mid-priced handbags. You'll inevitably end up not eating what's on your plate and will eventually find yourself glancing furtively around to see if any of the minglers have noticed that you just left a plate of half-crumbled danishes next to the Liz Claiborne tote bags display.
If you ever do attend such a gathering, arrive late to avoid all of the above and feign a need for the restroom in order to wander the store's empty aisles. There you might have the luck to encounter someone such as Miss Jane Sibley, whom you'll recognize by the feather in her hair.
Miss Jane's feather is fitting, since she herself is tiny and birdlike. She's one of the breed of Texas women that captures the imagination - strong, feminine creatures who demur to the males around them but wield far-reaching and subtle power behind their honeyed manners. There's a spark of feistiness to these women that draws me to them.
On this morning, Miss Jane was polite as ever, just as she had been the other time I met her - at a party where we discussed books about Texas. She remembered me, or said she did, and introduced me to a young Latino man who was kind of her assistant. After a few minutes of conversation she excused herself. "We're going to a preview of the Long Center," she explained, and then we talked briefly about how 2008 (when it would open) was not so far away. Then she was gone, leaving me standing in the juniors dresses aisle, wondering what it was I admired about her so.
Some Texan women deserve their own version of the French phrase "Je ne sais (pas) quoi." From now on, when I meet somebody like this, I'll just describe her by saying, she's got that certain, je ne sais pas, y'all.
Friday, March 23, 2007
Monday, March 19, 2007
Mastering the Domain I
I practically lived at The Domain (Austin's new luxury shopping development, for the uninitiated among you) last weekend. Between interviewing Michael Knight of "Project Runway" fame, talking to fashion designer Sunny Leigh, watching fashion shows, lunching with models (Yes, they eat! Well, some of them do, anyway...) and taking advantage of the discounts from my newly opened Macy's card, I barely ate, slept or visited my apartment.
Posts to come on all of these occurrences, plus on my week of SXSW madness - I've got stories! Stay tuned.
Posts to come on all of these occurrences, plus on my week of SXSW madness - I've got stories! Stay tuned.
Don't let it be forgot
This blog is named for a lyric from the 1960 musical "Camelot" that resonates with me and with a lot of people.
The line goes like this: "Don't let it be forgot, that once there was a spot, for one brief shining moment, that was known as Camelot."
It's said that John F. Kennedy liked the song and would play it over and over in the early days of his presidency. However true that is, the song is the reason the Kennedy era - a time that celebrated youth, style and idealism - is known as Camelot.
It's a phrase that knocks around in my mind both because I've studied history and, like so many others, have fallen under that Kennedy-era spell (and the Jackie Kennedy style spell), and also because, as much as I gad about swilling cocktails, suntanning, and generally taking my youth for granted, I know it won't last forever. Botox and lipo and yoga aside, my youth and anybody else's - and life, for that matter - is one brief shining moment.
Lastly, I've been privileged over the last few years to run across many great people in Austin whose creativity, energy and inventiveness make this city what it is. These people throw unforgettable parties, of course, and I've had the chance (especially lately) to attend a few of their fabulous fetes and other celebrations. The occasions are brief and shining and usually lose their glitter in the morning, but though my dress may be rumpled, my head may ache and my eyes may be rimmed with leftover mascara, I'm always glad I went to the fair.
So I've started this blog to chronicle the fun I've been privileged to be a part of lately. The stories I have now are good. I hope they'll soon be far too good to ever consider keeping to myself.
The line goes like this: "Don't let it be forgot, that once there was a spot, for one brief shining moment, that was known as Camelot."
It's said that John F. Kennedy liked the song and would play it over and over in the early days of his presidency. However true that is, the song is the reason the Kennedy era - a time that celebrated youth, style and idealism - is known as Camelot.
It's a phrase that knocks around in my mind both because I've studied history and, like so many others, have fallen under that Kennedy-era spell (and the Jackie Kennedy style spell), and also because, as much as I gad about swilling cocktails, suntanning, and generally taking my youth for granted, I know it won't last forever. Botox and lipo and yoga aside, my youth and anybody else's - and life, for that matter - is one brief shining moment.
Lastly, I've been privileged over the last few years to run across many great people in Austin whose creativity, energy and inventiveness make this city what it is. These people throw unforgettable parties, of course, and I've had the chance (especially lately) to attend a few of their fabulous fetes and other celebrations. The occasions are brief and shining and usually lose their glitter in the morning, but though my dress may be rumpled, my head may ache and my eyes may be rimmed with leftover mascara, I'm always glad I went to the fair.
So I've started this blog to chronicle the fun I've been privileged to be a part of lately. The stories I have now are good. I hope they'll soon be far too good to ever consider keeping to myself.
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