Cold War Chic

Remember the Cold War? There was a space race and lots of rockets and other technology stuff, and alzheimery Reagan and unfortunately birthmarked Gorbechev were frenemies, and everyone was a uber paranoid double crossing secret agent, and there was that Land Of Confusion song by Phil Collins (who I dislike intensely, but the puppets were kind of cool). All in all, I have always felt the Cold War rates a solid BORING on Erin's Entertaining War Scale, with the Civil War topping the scale as SLIGHTLY LESS BORING.

And then I saw these pictures of the now demolished Palast der Republik in Berlin, where cold warriors hid behind their angry wall and secretly plotted death to America, or something like that. All that plotting makes me nervous, but the Palast makes me feel vaguely traitorous -- like switching sides. Or maybe just like becoming a secret spy and committing a little espionage.

Because those bastards were plotting in style.

Built in the mid 70s, the Palast didn't just house a bureaucratic freedom hating government, it "contained 13 restaurants, lounges, and beer and wine bars, a bowling alley and even a discotheque."

Huh. You know what I love even more than freedom? Beer. Wine. Bars. And gorgeous lighting.

Those fancy bureaucrats even got to see concerts by awesome acts like Harry Belafonte and Carlos Santana for free. Yep, they were treated to the very best of America. The cream of the crop.

But it wasn't all fun and games at the Palast. There was a lot of work to do, what with all the cold and the war going on.

Ok, yeah, mostly it was all fun and games.

Sadly this little gem of a time capsule was demolished due to an overabundance of asbestos. Oops! Payback is a bitch. Just kidding, because my grandma died of cancer from asbestos and that really sucked. I hope those freedom haters didn't get all cancery. I am magnanimous like that.

And also I hate to think of this beautiful building as a disease infested death trap. And just maybe I would like to buy those lights off Ebay (I swear I've seen them), and I would prefer that they not be smeared with cold war cancer dust.

Call me paranoid.

Gorgeous photos by Thorsten Klapsch are available in book form for purchase here.

Shoes, Glorious Shoes

I feel pretty confident in declaring that I own a vastly awesome shoe collection. It's not a status oriented kind of collection that screams, Look at me! I wear the latest Tory Burch by day and the newest Louboutins by night. Which is not to say that I don't appreciate fine, expensive shoes. I do have the odd pair of Marc Jacobs heels bought on deep (VERY deep) discount. It's just that mostly I'm far too poor (and cheap) to buy them. What I do own is a little piece of the 20th (working my way up to the 21st) century: black satin dancing shoes from the 30s, alligator pumps from the 40s, Delman spike heels and malachite green French Room snake skin platform pumps and some lucite heeled rhinestone studded beauties from the 50s, a swinging pair of Walter Steiger silver snakeskin t-straps and crazy spectator oxfords from the 60s, loads of wooden platforms from the 70s (both wedged and spiked), a killer pair of Charles Jourdan stilettos from the 80s, and I haven't even mentioned the boots -- 70s western, 80s Frye and Hanna Makler (the boot lady), 90s Italian, and a whole host of other players.

Despite the fact that my closet, Ben's closet, and even the office closet runneth over, I love each and every pair. My shoe loving grandmother would be proud, and naturally I own several pairs of her shoes, too.

The good thing about vintage shoes is that they're unique, and if you're crafty with the Ebay, they're often cheap. The bad thing about vintage shoes is the comfort -- or the lack thereof. You can get lucky and snag an uber plush pair, but more likely you just tough it out. And look hot.

Unless you have a toddler. And then you buy new shoes. Brand new, never worn shoes.

Enter my new Lucky Brand Lexi clog boots, bought with an internet coupon (duh) at Endless. Less expensive than those damn Swedish Hasbeens, and less orthopedic looking than those Jeffrey Campbell boots, they are comfortable, they fit well, and they go with everything. I plan to go dark and boho chic with them, all neutralish textures and patterns and crazy shiny shit galore. Like so:

Graham Atkins Hughes

Commune Design

Elle Decor

Not sure of the source, but I'm pretty sure that's a Vistosi chandelier. Mmmmm...

Francois Halard

Andrea Ferrari

Yeah, I like black. But I also like brown. Tune in for later episodes in my shoe shopping diaries, wherein I confess to both major and minor boot purchases...

I really hope Ben isn't reading this.

I'm Back I'm Back I'm Back

Somebody slap me in the face! I've spent the last weeks of blogcation idling away my free time -- by which I mean I had very good hair, cooked some very delicious meals, and managed a very cleanish house. Oh, and I bought some very cute shoes, but we shall discuss that later this week. All in all it was lovely, however Karly is now so completely pregnant that she can't even sit up to type and GOOD LORD (or whatever) the girl deserves a break, so I'm taking the blog back... albeit a little halfheartedly.

I am definitely going to miss my good hair.

But I get that it's time to regroup and re energize. Despite the fact that I have barely touched my computer (other than to shoe shop), that I haven't read a blog since prehistoric times (like, weeks ago), that I haven't answered a great many emails (sorry, guys) and am, in fact, a horrible, terrible person, I'm back. I'm back, and it's time to fuck some shit up.

A solid gold bedroom by Dolce and Gabbana.

Karly has almost bought one of those African haircut plaques about 140 times so this little ray of sunshine goes out to her... image via Marie Claire Maison.

Bubbles! Yeah, that's where we're at these days. via nytimes.

Some old school crazy by Marjorie Skouras.

I am going to give Ike a can of spraypaint and pray this comes out of his chubby little angel baby hands. Courtesy of Gary Hutton Design.

There's more fun where that came from.

Because I'm back.

Did I mention that I'm back?