Watch with me.

I'll catch you up, dear readers, on where I've been in just a bit--but, for now you must watch something for me. Someone has gone and posted the entire film Unzipped on youtube. I just watched the first part of the 1994 documentary of Isaac Mizrahi's Fall collection and already I've been magically transported back to the basics of why I love fashion. In the first 7 minutes of the film you see Eartha Kitt in all of her living glory, a fresh-faced Amber Valletta meeting Isaac for the first time, and Mizrahi's mama bragging about her son's first garment: a straight blazer she would wear to temple on all of the high holidays. I have no television, so I have no idea what Isaac is up to on his new tele show with Iman, but in those days he was the kind of charming, energetic, smoking, neurotic, funny man that made for good entertainment. So, lets watch together. Here are all the parts:









*Part 4 annoyingly has no audio because of a copyright claim over a music track. I say watch the visual and hum.









So good, right?

I Like The Way He Worked It.

I've always found it quite strange that there is a serious lack of inexpensive, yet appropriate, and relatively quality work wear for young women. The hole in the market is so huge. Work clothing either makes me feel old and frumpy (which is the kiss of death for my enthusiasm for life) or breaks my bank. I always thought that Isaac Mizrahi's line for Target was a great resource for presentable work clothes that didn't instantly age me a decade and a half. That is why I'm so sad to see his line disappear from the mass retailer. You know what softens the blow though? The lovely price slashing that is happening now through April 30th on Mizrahi's Target wears. His clothes are 50% to 70% off.

I'm super excited that all of these money makin' place ensembles are less than $25. Now, if I could just find a job to wear these to...

Monumentally Weird

My Dad is a Garmento. Actually, I'm exceedingly proud of my paternal heritage which is a long line of men who bought, hawked, measured, sewed, tailored, imported or manufactured clothing for the masses. This means that I've spent many days throughout my life in and around the Garment District joyously eating bagels or deli sandwiches (depending on the time of day) and witnessing men with bellies and slicked back hair talk about how much business sucks. But, in all of my days tagging along with my Father to work, I've never quite seen anything like what I saw today. In the last year my Dad moved office buildings and when I went to visit him in his new spot today, I stumbled upon something astonishing. Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you the:

This lovely little display lines the lobby of 533 Seventh Avenue. It is a lineup of silver busts of America's top fashion designers stuck on acrylic poles and labeled with gold name-bearing plaques.

Thank god for the plaques...let's take a closer look shall we?

Now even before I give you the corresponding gold plaques, can you put a name to a single one of those faces? Maybe the hair gives away the ladies, but I swear I stood in amazement at who the gray heads were meant to be. Here's who we've got above:

Poor Isaac, right? I mean that must be some sort of mistake. And Marc? He looks like the love child of Sting and a Ken doll. Are they not scary in that way that clowns are scary? I really want to find out if the designers have ever seen these. Maybe they were invited to some really awkward unveiling ceremony where they had to pick themselves out of the lineup and failed, miserably. Oh, these are so classic. I almost think they need to be seen in the round to be fully appreciated. So, if you ever want to see them in person, holler at me and I'll put together a tour group.