compared2what? wrote: I am going to have to look for a rockin' Annie Aronburg celebratory digital trinket or other gift.
It was 1960 and an artistic visionary suddenly appeared on the New York Fashion Scene.......Azalea.
Azalea was the only name she ever needed. She was born in Rome, of a family who boasted many generations of artists and designers. Having been brought to New York by ten years old, she was exposed to a multicultural sophisticated background. It was clear that her interests were in high fashion, having always been influenced by her mother's penchant for Parisian Couture.
Azalea was formulating her own fashion vocabulary. She so disliked the endless fittings of French Couture, and she despised clothes that were contrived. Azalea was always looking for solutions for the modern working woman. It was this in mind that she set off to turn the little black business dress into the 'perfect' elegant cocktail outfit. Thus was born the Azalea Stole.
Rarely is a fashion item so unique that it qualifies for a United States Patent, but this was the case with this high fashion stole. A stole that can be worn a myriad of ways, A stole so wonderful that it catapult Roman born Azalea into the high fashion world of Couture and Ready to Wear.
annie aronburg wrote:compared2what? wrote: I am going to have to look for a rockin' Annie Aronburg celebratory digital trinket or other gift.
I'd settle for a virtual spree in New York City with C2W:
First we'll have blood orange mimosas with our bagels and lox, don our matching Juicy Couture cashmere track suits and head down to Century 21 where all knitted silk separates are on 75% markdown along with the Betsey Johnson frocks. The girls at the cash register will be so distracted by my hokey accent that they'll forget to charge us for our sunglasses, which we'll need because it's another bright guilty day in Manhattan and while we wouldn't miss Karl Rove's tar and feathering for the world, we don't intend to get crow's feet on top of our laugh lines.
Then we'll stop by Ground Zero to see how Paul Laffoley is doing with the underground community garden and rollerdisco ziggaraut we've commissioned there.
Afterwards we'd spend some time admiring the Darger Collection at the American Folk Art Museum, before catching a bullet train to Brooklyn to browse Mark Lombardi's library at the Pierogi Gallery until our appointment at Christopher Brosius.
We'd have so many parcels from there that we'd have to catch a hovercab back to the East Village where we'd pop into the Lakeside Lounge to pose for photo booth portraits, before taking the chihuahuas to the 6:30 Informal Small Dog Gathering in Tompkins Square Park so they could check their messages.
Somewhere along the line we would eat sushi, belgian fries, injera, salad rolls and hot fruit. I don't like sitting around in restaurants so these treats would be delivered by handsome multi-racial couriers to whatever locus of condensed stimuli we were gracing with our glittering presence at the
moment our tummies grumbled. They refuse our tips and ask only that they be allowed to pet the dogs for good luck, which no-one really needs anymore.
Then we'd meet up with Michael K at the Beatrice Inn to drink sidecars and laugh until our faces hurt while Thurnntaxis and Barracuda spun records.
I think I went with you. It was great. I hope you don't mind.
chiggerbit wrote:Somewhere along the line we would eat sushi
Oh, please, not sushi in the US--almost all of it comes from Sun Myung Moonie business.
Love the fabric, but that ensemble must weigh at least twelve pounds. You're a strong woman.
You know what they say: "Il faut souffrir pour etre belle." (It is necessary to suffer in order to be beautiful).
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