This show is interesting, and it never says stupid things or expects me to love it back (which is probably why I do). Also, there is a new episode every day on Nick at Night for like two weeks. So I'm good staying home.

I can remember being on a plane headed back to New York City from France and a Destiny's Child video playing on the televisions. It was awful. I wanted to get up and beg the pilot to turn around because America was not the place for me. 

But now look at her. All grown up. She's elegant, she's old-hollywood, she's Marc Jacobs. She's a simple smile. She's Paris, France.

     What amazes me is how much money I have to spend to look like a proper bohemian. I have to drop over $1,000 so people can look at me all winter and think, ah, she’s such an artist, she’s really got it all figured out, I wish I could know her. Then when they try to talk to me I can ignore them properly. I have to spend two week’s salary on a coat to look like I found it somewhere exotic. I have to act like a moron to look clever. It’s like I want to be a walking mirage. Then I wonder if I should just hire a seamstress to replicate say, the Preen Cowl Coat, until I realize I probably can’t afford that either.

     For now I’m sure I’ll just settle on a measly $300 pea coat from J.Crew and dream that I had money for bigger better things that more properly match the great depth and breadth of my being, at the department store. 

The Alexander Wang Nubby Oversized Coat, my first choice at http://www.shopbop.com/nubby-obersized-coat-alexander-wang/vp/v=1/845524441881228.htm (you know this model can't afford it either)

Now in a cosmo/tiramisu high I will explain why it's way cooler to be in your late 30's raising your child in New York City than in some suburban labrynth bringing your fourth kid to soccer practice in a sticky minivan. Just think, you've never had to drive a minivan or sit inside a McDonald's playland. No,  you've enjoyed subway stairs and cabs rides and brunches and farmer's market groceries and central park. I loved my mother for her gardens and nightime stories. But bless her heart but she could never have maneuvered us around mid-town at mid-day. I want to be that kind of mom, happy and driven and on time to an appointment without calling my husband frantic and jittery. I want the the six year old at my side to know I'm his mommy, and that, in turn, means we're almost there sweetie.

http://whatwouldsummerwear.wordpress.com/2009/01/19/like-mother-like-daughter/