Symphony in the City

You guys should all try to go to this event for the Friends of the New World Symphony, of which I am on the executive committee. It's being thrown by my uber-fab college friend Stacey (holla!) and she throws amazing parties that attract cool, eclectic crowds. You should also think about joining the NYC or Miami group, Friends of the New World Symphony. I can't make this event in NYC, but I go to all the Miami ones. For information or to buy tix/RSVP, get in touch with:
stacey.glassman@nws.edu

The NYC Executive Committee consists of Marco Acerra, Chris Barnicle, Raphael Bejarano, Jacqueline Bush, Craig Bruck, Justin Davis, Anand Dutta, Kara Dutta, Samantha Epstein, Rena Fischler, Michael Friedland, Jona Genova, Jim Hayes, Katherine Herring, William Kangas, Elizabeth Katcher, Jette Kelly, Sara Link, Guelay Mese, Stratis Morfogen's, Pavan Pardasani, Max Ramirez, Shaun Rose, Amanda Roth, Jonathan Rubenstein, Seth Ruthen , Lisa Sayfie, Christine Sonu, Tony Theodore and Zak Zaidman.

The Miami Executive Committee is led by Chairman Aaron Resnick and Vice-Chairman Dan Grech and consists of Corina Biton, Dr. Darren Bruck, Jeffrey Feldman, Lauren Funke, Lindsay Glassman, Jason Goldstein, Hemley Gonzalez, Stephanie Green, Calvin Kohli, Denisse Lemos, Tomas Loewy, Lisa Maister, Ellen Marchman, David Martin, Shoshanna Mehrpouyan, David Restainer, Brad Rosen, Amy Rosenberg, Alan Roth, Michael Sheehan, Dawn Toroker, Dindy Yokel and Alison Zhuk.

Ommmmmmmmmmmmmm

I spent a lot of time this weekend with a family friend who has lived an interesting life, has endured some very trying times, yet has emerged triumphant and supremely balanced. I am an old soul at heart, so it's not unusual for me to hang out with my parents' friends. Often, I have more fun and more meaningful relationships with them than with people my own age. I suppose it's because they have more to teach me, but I don't know. Maybe I am just blessed with great family friends?

This weekend with this friend, we spoke of our mutual experiences with therapy; I explained my clinical depression to him and the fact that I have accepted my need to be on some form of SSRI antidepressant for the rest of my life. (A matter that I am fine with, btw.)

Somehow a discussion of therapy diverged into his practice of meditation, which he does daily, wherever in the world he may be. Most often, he is out on his magnificently serene, sprawling, waterfront patio with an unobstructed view of his boat, the turquoise waters and other people's estates.

"Do you have any kind of mantra you chant or anything like that?" I asked, thinking of that episode of Curb Your Enthusiam where Richard Lewis lets Larry use his mantra, "Jai-ya," that turns out to mean "fuck me."

"No," he said, "I just sit out there, look at the water, go to 'that place' and think, basically, 'Look at all this I have; it can't get any better. All I have is today. I don't know if there will be a tomorrow and that's essentially what I focus on; living in the moment instead of thinking or worrying about the future."

That really resonated with me, as I am such a control-freak, type-A planner who, if I don't have a plan for "the future," completely freaks out. Like now.

"You know," I mused, "I think I'm going to try to do that. I get so wound up in thinking about the future that I forget to live in the moment."

You should, he said, because most people get so wrapped up in their day-to-day BS that they can't appreciate the now.

"Well, if I lived where you lived, I'd be out on that patio all day, just staring at the water and living in the moment, that's for sure."

"That's the funny thing," he said. "Whenever I'm out there, I look at everyone else's homes around me and nobody is ever out on their decks; nobody is appreciating these amazing things they have."

So then I quizzed him on whether he was coached on how to properly meditate, breathe, etc., and he said no, that he just went to 'that place,' cleared his head and told himself something along the lines of, "Look at what you have; you have life; you have this great home; family; friends and you have today. That's all you need. Just focus on today."

I suppose it all falls into that "one day at a time" philosophy, with a more positive twist. I often say that to my therapist, when I am really down, that I am just taking things "one day at a time." But yesterday it ocurred to me that I could turn that around into a positive. Like as they say in Rent, "No day but today."

So today, just now actually, I did it. I meditated for the first time in my entire life. I found my "place," and though I have been to many, many beautiful, spiritual places, this is the one that came to me: Lord Byron's Grotto, a scenic overlook on a cliff in Portovenere on Italy's Ligurian coast (Cinque Terre region). Lord Byron often wrote there and went there for inspiration. Apparently this site is a UNESCO World Heritage Site.

It's next to the Church of San Pietro, and the beauty and awesome energy of this scenic overlook is indescribable. (These pictures don't do it justice, but, hey, I've got shit to do.)

I think this will be my "place" and my mantra—if I feel the need for one—shall be "no day but today." So make the most of it, girlie.

Where in the World is SG?

Where in the world is Stephanie? (Friends and family friends, please do not play!)

Pick Your Pretty Poison

After seven- and one-half hours in my packed-to-the gills car yesterday, I could use any one of these treatments: Juli B Beauty Picks for February.

Happy fucking valentine's day people. I am out of Miami manana, and I didn't even have to learn Spanish.

"No habla Espanol" was pretty effective in warding off the beggars. I realize I have not told my readers where I am going, suffice to say that given the open-book quality of my life, I think it best that a few things remain private.

Promises Malibu? Sierra Tucson? Bellevue? Nothing that exciting, so I probably won't be posting as much in my new locale. Thank god for Klonopin, family and dogs; not necessarily in that order.

Shoes, Glorious Shoes

Last night I had a dream that I went back to Israel and packed about 7 pairs of my best shoes. Somehow they got lost along the way and were substituted for someone else's more practical pairs. So I'm in Eilat wandering around the beach and the pool asking (yelling really) if anyone's seen my Manolos or Guccis.

Yes, I am sick, but this dream did not come out of nowhere. I'm moving Thursday, and the past couple of days I've focused on handbags and shoes, which I will take with me in my car. Behold the bags of shoes and handbags littering my floor. And these are just spring shoes and handbags. Can you say problem?

Testosterone Top 5

Again, this stolen from Jen. She doesn't care (I hope) that's how we roll.

Five qualities of a perfect man?
1. Handsome, but not too handsome. Slightly askew or odd, to balance out my extreme oddness.

2. Funny, sarcastic, wry, witty, appreciating Larry David, Arrested Development, Entourage, Woody Allen and Seinfeld.

3. Well-read and enjoys reading.

4. Highly intelligent and well-educated, coupled with extreme ambition.

5. Jewish, from a "good family" and appreciates Jewish women, with all our eccentricities.

Ladies?

Fw:

I am posting this for lack of anything more scintillating. It landed in my inbox thanks to Jen. Feel free to comment with your additions.

YOUR REAL NAME?
Stephanie Diane Green, nee Greenberg, pre-Ellis Island

YOUR GANGSTA NAME: (first 3 letters of real name plus izzle)
Ste-izzle (lame)

YOUR DETECTIVE NAME: (fav color and fav animal)
Pink Dog

YOUR SOAP OPERA NAME: (middle name, and current street)
Diane Brickell

YOUR STAR WARS NAME: (the first 3 letters of your last name, first
2 letters of your first name, first 3 letters of mom's maiden name)
Grestpav

YOUR SUPERHERO NAME: (2nd favorite color, favorite drink)
Blue Fuze

YOUR IRAQI NAME: (2nd letter of your first name, 3rd letter of your
last name, any letter of your middle name, 2nd letter of your moms
maiden name, 3rd letter of you dads middle name, 1st letter of a
siblings first name, last letter of your moms middle name)
Tedamme (heh)

YOUR WITNESS PROTECTION NAME: (mothers maiden last name and fathers
middle name)
Paver M.

YOUR GOTH NAME: (black, and the name of one your pet)
Black Wally

PORN STAR NAME (very first pet, very first street name...that
you can remember)
Corky Pickwick

And I have one more to add: FUTURE HUSBAND/WIFE'S NAME (first name of first person you kissed, last name of your most abiding celebrity crush)
Scott Jordan

The Annas, Big and Small

I am totally obsessed with the death of Anna Nicole Smith. Her life in the past year has been its own unscripted E! True Hollywood Story and now this? Sooo bizarre and tragic. And it happened here? That hotel is like 5 minutes from where I worked and I've stayed there before. Anyway, in her last interviews with ET + The Insider (What is with those two shows now anyway; two separate shows with the exact same content? Why don't they just create an hour-long entertainment news show?), Anna seemed even more unbalanced than ever. It's certainly left me wondering what exactly she was on aside from the Valium that the above story says was found in her room. And did you notice the horrible dark circles under her eyes? That coupled with the oddly plumped lips made her look even more unusual than ever in the days leading up to her death. Very very sad indeed, esp. for her little baby. I don't know about you, but I'm eagerly awaiting the press conference at 3 p.m. cause I'm so cool and have nothing better to do, aside from like packing and moving and stuff like that. But that can wait.

And speaking of Annas, the original, the best Anna—Wintour that is,—has, I'm afraid committed a major fashion faux pas. Sometimes she's the most fabulous thing on earth and sometimes, she just misses the mark completely. Today was one of the latter times: Fashionosophy: Fur Catastrophe.

Fashion Week

Please see Fashionosophy: Ode to Vogue.

My latest journalistic endeavor: Juli B February Picks. Now if only I could somehow turn this writing thing back into an actual career . . .

Superbowl wha?

So apparently this big football game was in town and everyone was, like, totally excited and spent all this money and clogged up traffic and then just like that it was over. Yawn. Why do they bother with this silliness every year? I'm glad the Bears didn't win though—ha.

I'm out of this cesspool of a city in a little more than a week. It's honestly the only city I've ever lived in that I didn't love aside from Jacksonville where I grew up, but I don't consider that to be a city. And it certainly wasn't my choice to grow up there. Anywho, I loved Atlanta, where I went to college. I loved Los Angeles where I moved after college. And, it goes without saying, that I love New York, which has always been my home even though I didn't grow up there.

So what to look forward to after the move? Well, I'll be reunited with my beloved Wally, first and foremost. And then we are going on a truly fabulous family vacation to Italy in early spring, to meet up with brother who will be joining us from India.

Believe it or not, we have never been on a European vacation as a family, and I think it's high time. We're doing two nights in Rome, three in Positano and three in Amalfi. I had a say in all the hotels—my first job out of college was as an editor at a travel magazine—so I'm super psyched for all the destinations and the amazing hotels. I love nice hotels, I mean, who doesn't—but I really love nice hotels. I'd gladly give up half my wardrobe to travel in style. Check 'em out: St. Regis Grand Hotel in Rome, Il San Pietro in Positano and Santa Caterina in Amalfi. Sigh. I'm so there already.

I haven't been to Europe since before Sept. 11, so thanks to momsy and popsicle for the vacay and thanks to brother for being his enlightened self and going to India and providing us with an excuse to leave the country. Now that I think about it, I bet I could bring Wally too . . .

Oh, Leandro, you are killing me and my parents too. Too funny.
My latest journalistic endeavor for Juli b has me visiting M-W for words such as "carnelian" and "chalcedony."

Today I actually wrote more pages of my second manuscript, of which there are like 5 different documents/versions. Then I looked at the master document to discover with horror that it's 485 pages long. And I keep adding, when what I need to do is subtract, cut, copy, paste, mold. No, I never suffer from writer's block, merely writer's disorganization. God, I used to be so organized. I need an editor, except wait, that's me and I can't seem to edit my way to the top of this one.

Another Day, Another Sale

On my way out of the gym last night—it's located in the Four Seasons Hotel and Residences, so there are various other businesses in the building—I picked up a brochure for this skin clinic I always pass on the way out to the parking garage.

The brochure reads: "30% off all injectables Thursday February 1." This, of course, includes Botox, for which I am due a touch up. I know, I know, you all think I'm crazy what with the Botox, Restylane etc. I may be crazy, but the Botox has no bearing on that. And the bottom line is I'm due.

30% off? Big discount; this stuff is expensive. Score—skincare sale!

And girls check out my SAG red carpet review on Fashionosophy.

Questions for you guys: Do any of you well-heeled travelers have hotel recs in Positano aside from Le Sirenuse and Il San Pietro?

And, excuse the ignorance from this Jew, but is the Vatican/Sistine Chapel open Easter weekend?

I have been to Rome several times without managing to see the Sistine Chapel (don't ask) and now it seems our visit there will coincide with Easter . . .

eBaying at the Moon

OK, the Marc Jacobs bag is now on eBay.

If it doesn't sell, I'll most likely return it, though we did just book our tix to Italy and how perfect would this bag be for the Amalfi Coast and Capri in the spring? Oh, decisions, decisions.

So excited to go to the Amalfi Coast for the first time and back to Capri and Rome. So much for my hiatus. This blog is like crack to me and I have an addictive personality.

The Last Good-bye

This will be my last post in a while, for myriad reasons, not the least of which is that this blog has become my primary journalistic outlet, which is unhealthy in terms of both finances and career-development. From today on, I will only post on Fashionosophy. I am leaving Miami on Feb. 15th for parts I am too ashamed to reveal. But thankfully I'll be on the Amalfi Coast by early April, so it's all relative.

I haven't thought a lot (or at all really) of what grave, life-changing lessons I would like to leave you with, so as usual I'm just going to shoot from the hip.

This blog started as a way for me to publicize my novel more than a year ago when it was still "out to publishers." And, sure, it garnered some mentions in Page Six, Gawker, etc. But the book remains unpublished, so I suppose a true self-promoter I am not.

What this blog turned into though is a journal of the twists and turns, fears and phobias, ups and downs of my life. Often this blog is a caricature of my life—for if you were to meet me in person, you would behold nothing more than a nice, down-to-earth, (of course impeccably turned out) Jewish girl—often, it's 100% true. Where is the line? I suppose only I know.

It also, I think, turned into a chronicle of one woman's (god, I hate the word 'woman,' I still think of myself as a 'girl') struggle with clinical depression, a serious mental illness. There is a big misconception in this country about clinical depression, in that everyone feels blue once in a while, but when that blue-ness turns into an every day state of being, or even a character trait, it's nothing to laugh at. Instead, it's something to be categorized in the DSM-IV and treated.

I have been clinically depressed since about the age of 17, which at this point, is almost half of my life. In my family, mental illness doesn't just run, it sprints. It wasn't until I was about 20 though and read Prozac Nation, that I was able to put a name to what I had always felt. In that regard, Prozac Nation was the book that most changed my life. Once I realized what was wrong with me, I began therapy coupled with SSRI medication (Prozac, Paxil, Lexapro). I have been "in treatment" for 11 years now. The past 7 years with the same therapist, who practices in Beverly Hills and I speak with on the phone a couple times a month.

Am I cured? Well, obviously not. I think that there is no cure for clinical depression as deep as mine. Depression, my own at least, is usually cyclical. Sure, if my life is going fabulously, I am "happy." If it's in the toilet, I'm suicidal. Literally. But here's the thing about my life—I've had only fleeting moments of happiness amid a steady stream of blackness. And for those of you who are yelling at their computer saying, "Oh, come on, just snap out of it! You have a great life!" I will say this—you could be the luckiest, most privileged, most loved, most successful person in the world, but if you are clinically depressed it matters not. You're still going to hate yourself and have suicidal ideations.

Anyway, if you think you may be clinically depressed and want to learn more about it, I would suggest reading both The Bell Jar by Sylvia Plath and Prozac Nation by Elizabeth Wurtzel. Sure you could go to the National Institute of Mental Health's depression web site, but reading someone's memoirs strikes home a bit more.

In conclusion, on depression, I will say that it's a complicated illness that has affected every aspect of my life—from career to relationships to family to social life.

OK, on a lighter note. Some thoughts and advice I will leave with you.

Never settle for anything less than what you consider the best—in a job, in a partner, an apartment, whatever. Life is too short.

Money and material possessions do not make you happy. Take it from someone who has never wanted for anything and is still unhappy.

Money does make life easier, so I don't think there is anything wrong with striving for more of it, as long as you realize that once you get it, it won't fulfill you completely.

Family is the most important thing in this life. So if you don't have a good relationship with yours, try to do something about it before it's too late. Because in the end, they may be all you are left with. Friends are important too, but it is your family's job to be there for you, remember that. Our parents brought us into this world willingly, and even if they don't agree with the way we live our lives, they created us and upon doing so agreed to love, nurture and support us unconditionally, no matter how hard a job it may be sometimes.

Always buy designer, preferably at a discount. You will thank me ten years from now when you are still wearing the item. But I can't afford designer you say? Then you haven't been reading carefully, darlings, for there is always, Century 21, Neiman Marcus Last Call, Off 5th Saks Fifth Avenue, Blue Fly, Filene's Basement, Loehmann's, etc. The list goes on, so you're out of excuses.

Go to Italy at least once in your life, even if you have to max out your credit cards. And if you're Jewish, go to Israel too.

Have fun at all costs.

Always have a sense of humor even in the most dire of times; you'd be surprised what it can get you through.

Get massages.

Treat yourself and your loved ones to nice things; you can't take it with you.

Go to the beach.

Get a dog.

Get Botox or Restylane or liposuction or whatever you want if it will make you look and feel better; screw what guys say, they don't understand.

Read books. I don't understand people who don't read books. Books are one of life's greatest pleasures. In fact, if I had to choose between giving up books or fashion, it would probably be a toss up. (!)

Enjoy yourself when you can and take pleasure in the little things.

In last night's Grey's Anatomy, Izzie, upon comforting George over the loss of his father said, "Life is short, George. Life is short, and it sucks a lot of the time. And if being with Callie makes you happy, then go be with Callie." Life is short; do what makes you truly happy.

In the inimitable words of Meryl Streep's character in The Devil Wears Prada: That's all.

Marc Jacobs, Going Once, Twice . . .

Wow, I guess you voters are all talk. As of tomorrow, this MJ number is moving over to eBay and I'm taking a blogging sabbatical.

OK girls, what I have here for you today is a lovely, classic Marc Jacobs leather bag in an eggshell color. It originally retailed for $950 and I'm selling it for $375. There is only one, so if you want it, click "buy now" and you will pay through PayPal. The first person to hit the button gets it, no bidding.

It's in mint condition and is new with tags. The lining is suede and there are inside middle and side zippered pockets. The hardware on the bag is a brushed gold-ish, but not so gold that you couldn't wear it with white-gold or silver jewelry. The shoulder strap is adjustable so that you could use it as a shoulder bag or carry it on your forearm. It really is a classic, and if it sells, there are more available in green, pink and navy.



















If this sucker doesn't sell, I'm keeping it myself; it's just that adorable.

For the rest of my non-fashion-oriented audience, I promise to have a rather entertaining and humiliating pseudo-dating story for you tomorrow, as well as an update on what the hell I am doing with my life in the coming months.

Found someone out there a fab Marc Jacobs bag today that I will post for sale tomorrow on this site using paypal. The price will include shipping.

Ok, girls, now that I've conducted my own bit of ghetto-style market research regarding handbags, I'm off to score a bargain and then put it up for sale on this site later today or tomorrow, depending on where the day takes me.

Thanks to LeandroToro for her continued support and coverage (?) of me and my boring yet somehow blogworthy life. I love how she credits the photos of my dogs to them. How cute is that? Wally the rockstar . . .

If you guys haven't watched this yet, you must, but you have to turn the volume up to truly appreciate its humor:

Steve Irwin You Tube video

You girls are weak! Come on, is this what voting will look like when Hillary runs? After all the soul-bearing, gut-wrenching stories I've shared, you can't vote in a simple poll? Vote. NOW. Pretty please, I have shopping to do tomorrow! Maybe posting what I discovered at the outlets this weekend will entice you: Fashionosophy's Frugal Finds.

OK, guys, no more posting by your's truly until you answer yesterday's poll. 18 votes out of 100+ readers Monday? Weak. I need your input!

I am holding fast on my no posting policy until people vote. I need these answers by tomorrow people so I can go shop for you. And guys, per the comment, if this idea works, I would also do ties—Boss, Brioni, etc. So that is your option.

Handbags

I need to conduct some market research for this little business I want to run here, wherein I use my shopping expertise (and access to the best outlet stores) to bring you the most fabulous, new-with-tags designer bags hand selected by moi. So, ladies, or men shopping for ladies, please answer this poll, ASAP. Thanks!

OK guys you are not voting enough. Have some sympathy, I was up all night with what I can only assume is food poisoning. It seems the majority of you are only willing to spend $150-175 on a designer bag, which is a little unrealistic. So let me clarify which types of brands I'm talking about: Prada, Marc Jacobs, Chanel, Fendi, Luella, Gucci, etc. Does that change anything?

How much are you willing to spend on a new-with-tags premier designer handbag on this site?
	$150-$175
	$175-$275
	$275-$375
	$375-$475
	$475-$675
Free polls from Pollhost.com