Manolo for the Big Girl

Do you know my favorite thing about Mo’Nique’s near-inevitable (and strangely controversial) Oscar acceptance?

I
Loved
Her
Walk.

She took that stage like a queen, like she knew she had every right in the WORLD to be there and she was going to own every.single.minute of it. She wasn’t falsely humble. She turned out a great performance, went about her business and when she won the award for which she did not campaign (thus the comment about the performance vs. politics) she walked up in a $400 off-the-rack gown and accepted the accolades she earned. She was emotional, but composed, and in an homage to Hattie McDaniel –the first African American to win an Academy Award– wore a sapphire dress and a gardenia in her hair.

As Kate Harding wrote in Salon:

It was about being there as a credit to her profession, not her race or her gender or her size or the sisterhood of hairy-legged comics in open marriages, or whatever else people want her to represent. It was about unapologetically standing up for herself and her performance in a way Hattie McDaniel never could have. It worked, and she earned it.

Several readers have contacted me over the years with questions about cocktails, and I try to oblige. When, a few weeks ago, there were several comments about my 12 Months of Cocktails email, I decided to do a mini-tutorial on the wonderful world of cocktailing.

A few notes before we begin:

Traditionally a cocktail is –at bare minimum– a base spirit plus a liqueur.  There are some folks who believe it isn’t a cocktail unless it has a base spirit, a sweetener (usually in the form of a liqueur) and a sour balance (lemon, bitters, whatever) but that’s a little fiddly for our purposes.

I don’t subscribe to the “something AND something” as being a proper cocktail. Which isn’t to say they aren’t glorious, just they don’t really need recipes.  My grandmother’s recipe for a Cape Cod was a glass of vodka and just enough cranberry juice to make it red enough to drink before breakfast.
About the Equipment:

You will need a jigger, a strainer, a muddler and a cocktail shaker. You can fudge on most of those things except the strainer, which you really do need, but seriously, you’re a grown-up: Buy a proper bar set.

Having a Mexican-style lime squeezer is also dead handy but a word to the wise: Avoid plastic. Get the heaviest one you can find, mine is cast iron and enamel and probably set me back eight bucks.

This one is aluminum and enamel and should do the trick nicely

About the Booze:

You get out of it what you put in, so use top shelf if you can.  For reference, my preferred spirits for cocktails are:

Vodka: Tito’s. If unavailable: Chopin

Bourbon: Basil Hayden’s. If unavailable: Maker’s Mark

Gin: Hendrick’s. If unavailable: Move

Dark Rum: Pusser’s British Navy Dark

Light Rum: use Cachaça instead, I prefer Leblon

Blended Whisky: Cutty Sark

Cognac: Hennessy VSOP

You’ll also need: Dry vermouth, sweet vermouth, bitters, a few selected liqueurs –make one of them  orange-flavored: I prefer Cointreau– and a few lemons on hand.

About the Terminology:

Most cocktail patois is pretty self-explanatory. Here are a few words that aren’t.

Rocks Glass: also known as an old fashioned glass, it’s a low, heavy-based tumbler used for most cocktails.

Neat: A drink –usually shaken with ice– strained into a glass, as opposed to “on the rocks” which is with ice, though not the ice you used in the shaker.

Up: The same as neat, but served in a stemmed glass.

Perfect: A “perfect” cocktail is generally one where there is equal measures of two main ingredients. For example, while THE perfect martini depends on how you prefer your drink, A perfect martini is equal parts gin and dry vermouth.

Shake: Lots of recipes call for shaking a cocktail, but for how long? Until a frost forms on the outside of the metal shaker. Always.

On to the recipes!

I’ve selected each cocktail for a month where the weather generally suits it, or for a particular holiday when it is traditionally enjoyed.  There’s nothing saying you can’t drink a Rusty Nail in August and a Caipirinha in mid-December.

January – The “Perfect” Rusty Nail

Celebrate the birth of Robert Burns –one of Scotland’s great products– with two of its other top-notch exports: Scotch whisky and Drambuie, a heather honey liqueur, a deceptively vile sounding name for a smooth, comfort cocktail.

“Perfect” Rusty Nail

1 1/2 oz blended Scotch
1 1/2 oz Drambuie

Combine in a shaker full of ice and strain into a rocks glass. Garnish with a twist of lemon. For something a little less sweet, play with the proportions of Scotch and Drambuie. A popular modern recipe is 3 parts Scotch to 1 part Drambuie.

February – Manhattan

2 oz  bourbon
1/2 oz sweet vermouth (that’s the red stuff)
dash bitters

Prepare as for a Rusty Nail. If you missed honoring the Scots back in January, replace the bourbon with Scotch whisky and you’ve got a Rob Roy. For my Ruby Manhattan recipe, click here.

March – Old-Fashioned
Ever wanted to know why those short tumblers are called “old-fashioned glasses”? It’s because of this cocktail, so really, you must serve it in one.

In an old fashioned glass, douse a single sugar cube in bitters. Add a splash of soda water and muddle until the cube is nicely broken up. Not too much soda, mind you, just enough to get things sloppy. Fill glass with ice, top off with whiskey, preferably rye. Garnish with an orange wedge and a maraschino cherry. Note: Some folks prefer more club soda, these people are probably Communists and beat their mothers.

Tom and Lorenzo over at Project Rungay have an excellent piece on Crystal Renn’s amazing spread in ELLE Canada AND they earn extra fabulon points for writing the following, which could have tripped from my flawlessly maquillaged lips:

“So why not put them in the correct size or in clothes that flatter them? It’s what a photographer and stylist would do with any other model, so why do the bigger models get the tighter, more revealing clothes? You never see plus-sized models in these editorials wearing something classic and tailored or flowing and goddess-y. No, they always look like they’re heading out to the road house on a Saturday night, where ladies drinks are half off. In fact, the more we think about it, we can’t ever remember seeing a “plus-sized” editorial (and it’s not like there have been so many that we have trouble recalling) where we liked the clothes. It’s always super-tight, super-short, super-revealing. We get it. “Big is Beautiful.” They want to promote the idea that bigger women are sexy. Well you know what? Bigger women are fabulous too. Can’t we have a “Big is Fabulous” spread some time soon that doesn’t roll around in the old tropes that fat women are sexually ravenous and a little sloppy to boot?”

You MUST click, if only to see the incredible spread.

When it comes to the fashion world, especially the modeling world, I am a cold, cold jaded shrew.

I know most plus-size models are size 10/12 and travel with their own set of pads to make them look bigger. I know there’s only ever one famous plus-size model at a time and I know nine times out of ten, if there’s a plus-size model in a straight-sized shoot, she’s there like a token black model would’ve been in the early 70’s.

And it’s not that I’m bitter. I had a blast when I modeled. My neck was too short for me to ever be a real success, but I was popular enough as an artists’ model to pay my bills for a while and I got to do the occasional charity runway thing which was all kinds of fun (Mama can STOMP. IT. OUT.) and I got to meet all sorts of cool artist guys I’m glad I never slept with. If you’ve ever wanted to model and have the required beauty, thick skin and good head on  your shoulders, I say give it a try.

But when you’ve been in and around the industry for a decade or so, you can get a little jaded. You realize Crystal Renn is just the new Mia Tyler, who was the new Kate  Dillon who was the new Sophie Dahl etc etc etc.  Now granted, all those girls –except for Sophie who is back to a straight size and just as gorgeous as ever– are still working as plus size models, but only Crystal is getting the covers.  Crystal is a damn good model but I’m just about exhausted of all the kerfuffle made over her each time she gets an editorial. It’s nothing new. She’s just the token “fat chick” who is virtually indistinguishable from a skinny chick.

THIS, however, is new:

V Magazine preview courtesy of models.com

V Magazine preview courtesy of models.com

(click on the photos to view more previews, you know you want to)

What we have here are four gorgeous undeniably plus-size models in V Magazine’s upcoming “Size Issue” and you know what these photos say to me?

Supermodels are back.

Good old-fashioned Gianni Versace schmoozing, George Michael lip-synch, don’t-get-out-of-bed-for-less-than-$10,000 quoting, early 90’s supermodels and it’s

About

Damn

Time.

Because this? Is gorgeous and lush and LONG overdue. It is full on glamor and I LOVE it because dammit, life is HARD right now for a lot of people and by God if ever there’s been a time to be allowed to do a smoky eye AND a major lip, it’s when we can’t afford anything BUT a new red lipstick and some kohl pencil.

Do I think we’re going to see a preponderance of plus-sized women on the catwalk and in major fashion editorials any time soon? Not hardly. But I DO think it means we’re moving away from the size 00 models and might start seeing fours and sixes again. I think the pendulum will swing away from the hard, post-modern space-age praying mantis ideal we’ve got now back to lushness and a certain over-the-top natural sexiness that just cannot happen when you don’t have any vavas to voom.

So well played, V Magazine. Well played indeed and I  hope this is the start of something big –as it were– for all of us.

With Christmas just a few days away, Francesca reminds you:

You can control only yourself, no one else.  Do your part and let the rest go.

Keep your eyes on the prize. In this case, the prize is love, peace and joy among you and anyone you encounter on the holiday. Nothing is as important as these things, not even the turkey burning or your inability to find a Zhu Zhu hamster or whether you finish polishing the silver before your mother comes. (Do not be this person’s brother.)

Do what you need to be fully “present.” A nap or a hot bath might do more to make Christmas meaningful than last-minute tinsel. And if you are the guest in someone’s home, offer to vacuum or chop vegetables or load the dishwasher.

Reach out. If you are spending Christmas alone and don’t want to be, make some calls or emails now, and make arrangements with others (such as your internet friends?) to get together at your house or at a restaurant. Just popping some popcorn, and a movie into the DVD player, will be nice if you have company.

Eat as much of whatever you want this Christmas. You are a grownup person, and a beautiful one at that.

Give yourself and others lots of hugs!

xoxo!

Oh yeah, I’m a lucky lady.

You see, recently Shop Translated picked several blogs to participate in giveaways of their clothes. I entered the prize drawing at Hyde and Seek, a blog I enjoy tremendously. As it happens, I was one of the winners. As a winner, I was allowed to pick one piece of clothing from Shop Translated. The only caveat was that it couldn’t be from the New Arrivals section. Fair enough.

It took a little while to make my decision, but when I saw the sleeveless wrap dress:

I knew I’d found my piece.

My new dress arrived on saturday. Considering that I won just seven days earlier, I call that swift service. The good folks at Shop Translated even congratulated me on my win on the invoice. Nice touch.

So what do I think of my win? First off, the picture does not do it justice. I thought it looked pretty in the picture, but it’s absolutely gorgeous in person. The splashy print is in purple, turquoise, and navy blue – my favorite colors – on a warm ivory background. And while the fabric is polyester, it’s a high grade of polyester. The seams and hems are finished impeccably.  Seriously, I haven’t seen such neat finishing for this price in a very, very, very long time. There are small vents at the sides of the skirt (just a couple inches), and while it looks sort of cap sleeved in the picture, it actually is sleeveless.

At 5′2″ I’m definitely shorter than the model, but I prefer to wear my skirts a little long, so that’s no problem. It hits about mid-calf on me. What’s closer to being a problem (for me) is the fact that the model is also more chestally endowed than I am. I’m a C cup and the ‘wrap’ bodice is inclined to open up a bit more than I’d like. As in, I had trouble covering up my bra. Still, it’s nothing a well-placed brooch or a couple of small tacking stitches can’t take care of. In the meantime, those of you in the D – DD range will probably get a perfect fit on the faux wrap.

In short, I consider this site an excellent place to look for something new to wear at a reasonable price.

Go, thou, and support a fine purveyor of attractive clothes for the more generously-sized lady of fashion consciousness.

I seem to recall once upon a time lo those many years ago when I was but a mere babe in arms being called Miss Piggy as an insult. I’m sure THEY thought it was an insult but Miss Piggy has more style, substance and feminine wisdom in her naturally-curly little tail than most women do in their entire bodies.

She is smart, opinionated, glamorous beyond all decency and isn’t afraid to kick some ass. Who WOULDN’T love her?

Here are some of her quotes I live by:

“There is only one gift you should accept on your first date – diamonds.”

“Never wash your hair with anything you’d hesitate to eat or drink.”

“Moi has always possessed a charm that is lethal to men.”

“There is the satisfaction of providing your public with a vision of true beautology, true sytlisity, – how can I put it? – true glamorositude.”

“Moi speaks body language fluently, although with a slight French accent.”

“The early bird gets the worm – which is what he deserves.”

“What if you were in Florida without your furs and there is a very quick little ice age?”

“How far should a girl go on the first date? Tucson. However, if you live in Texas, you can probably go a bit farther.”

“You can eliminate a lot of calories by entirely cutting out things you hate.”

“Eat what you want, exercise your prerogative, and find a good plastic surgeon who gives frequent-flyer miles.”

“Beauty takes practice.”

“Never let your frog outdress you.”

“Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, and it may become necessary from time to time to give a stupid or misinformed beholder a black eye.”

RIGHT?!

True, it seems Miss Piggy has had a little work done but haven’t we all? It’s a gal’s prerogative, no?

Isabella Blow was a genius, and she got screwed.

La Blow, former Tatler editor, muse, star-finder and influence-wielder would have turned 51 yesterday, and her tragic story was fashion legend even before it ended with her death-by-weed-killer in March, 2007.

She was not a pretty girl.

No true fashion visionaries are traditionally beautiful (Miuccia Prada, Diana Vreeland, Coco Chanel, Elsa Schiaparelli, etc), she had a weak chin, droopy eyes and perhaps the most painfully British set of teeth to be found outside the Royal Family.

But she had an eye.

BOY did she have an eye and she decided to follow Oscar Wilde’s commandment: if she could not BE a work of art, then at least she would wear them.

Thus created was the woman Lady Gaga wishes she could be.

She was an Evelyn Waugh character come to life: high born, brilliant and hopelessly self-destructive.  Blow left England in 1979 and wound up in New York, working as Anna Wintour’s assistant (the Devil may wear Prada, but the Assistant discovered McQueen) and then for André Leon Talley.

She returned to London to work for Tatler, which is like American Vogue but smart and interesting, first as an assistant and then as its Fashion Director. She also bounced around the rest of Conde Nast and did a stint as the Sunday Times Style section (London, not New York).

During that time she developed her relationship with boy-genius milliner Philip Treacy and became his muse, constantly daring him to create a hat she would not wear (as noted above, lobsters were not a barrier to millinery).

She discovered straight-then plus-then straight-sized model Sophie Dahl (Granddaughter of Roald, which explains why the heroine of The BFG was named Sophie), Stella Tennant and perhaps most legendarily, discovered Alexander McQueen when she bought young Lee’’s entire student collection for ₤5,000 –paid for in ₤100/wk allotments as she couldn’t afford it all in one go– in 1992.

Her personal life was not a happy one.

Disinherited by her father in the early 90’s she was married briefly in the 80’s and then joined her lot with Detmar Blow in 1989. Their marriage was not a success as Isabella battled with depression and could not conceive a child. Detmar, needing to carry on the family name in order not to lose the familial manse designed by his muckety muck architect ancestor (also a Detmar Blow) temporarily left Isabella when her I.V.F. didn’t work so he could knock up some girl.  Charming, no?

As Isabella continued to suffer from depression and a diagnosis of ovarian cancer, the people she discovered and nurtured –particularly McQueen– were moving onwards and upwards.

Her friend Daphne Guinness said “She was upset that McQueen didn’t take her along when he sold his brand to Gucci. Once the deals started happening, she fell by the wayside. Everybody else got contracts, and she got a free dress” which was especially hurtful as Blow was cripplingly low on cash and was rumored to have personally negotiated the Gucci deal.

Blow tried several creative attempts at suicide, finally succeeding by drinking Paraquat in the bathroom of the family manse her husband had left her to save.

Blow’s memorial service was, as you’d imagine, well-attended and there has been a great deal of guilt –both public and private– about her treatment by her fashion friends and colleagues. Read Simon Doonan’s self-punishing recollection –published shortly after her death– here.

As a personal note, I wept when I saw Alexander McQueen’s S/S 2008 show, an homage to Isabella chock-full of Philip Treacy confections (including a quivering mob of feather butterflies which I came up with for a Halloween costume in 2001. I have proof.)

Isabella Blow did not have a happy ending, nor indeed a happy middle or beginning, but she was one of the few great characters of the post-couture era and her eccentricity has inspired a new generation of  fashion daredevils.  Have a great weekend, and wherever you’re going, put on a hat. Do it for La Blow.