Fashion's Night Out

I've got to hand it to the fashion industry. Instead of whining about the fact that people are no longer plunking down $1000 for a pair of fur lined gloves in our sluggish economic times, they concocted Fashion's Night Out--which was tonight--where shops all over NYC (and in 12 countries around the world) stayed open until 11pm to fete customers and entice them to spend a little--if not a lot. Honestly, it was the brainchild of a marketing wizard. Everywhere my friend Francoise and I went tonight, we were offered wine, champagne, free makeovers and, best of all, genuine smiles from excited shopkeepers.

Though I did not partake of the champagne, I did indulge in a makeover at the Union Square Sephora. Fresh was doing a promotion, and as I was getting prettified, one of the founders of the company came over to say hello. He was lovely and had the most perfect skin I'd ever seen. I wasn't sure if he was just doing good business when he told me that I have fabulous skin, but something about him seemed very sincere so I graciously accepted the compliment.

I have been wallowing in feelings of unattractiveness due to the braces for the past few days--an indulgent fact I'm not proud of. But having a makeup artist that close to my face, daintily applying masks and creams and shadow and liner and gloss restored something. And the smile on my face was as genuine as the NYC shopkeepers'.

As we left the store, I looked up to see the Tribute in Light already in place. Every year on September 11th two beams of light rise into the night sky, originating from the spot where the Twin Towers used to be. I remember when they first appeared a few months after 9/11/01 and how comforted we all were to see them, to see the space honored and remembered. And though it sounds strange, it also served as a beacon, directing all the confused souls of the dead who were most certainly wandering around the city, not knowing what had happened on that day. They finally understood that they just had to go UP. There was a palpable difference in the air after those beams of light appeared. And I remember that sense of relief that was collectively felt in the city, by both the living and the dead.

I suppose this is a reminder that we all endure. The economy will bounce back. Gucci will once again sell $1000 fur lined gloves. New York is still its vibrant, energetic, pulsing self, despite the amputation of its twin limbs, and I can still smile, genuinely, even with a mouth full of metal.

Braces In the City

I'm thinking about that episode of Sex and The City where Miranda gets braces because she's a "tongue thruster" which means that when she sleeps she pushes her front teeth with her tongue, so her bite is off. She meets the girls with a mouth full of metal (which, as a lawyer, she could have afforded all kinds of clear, Invisalign lingual options, but hey, the power of the visual gag reigns supreme on the almighty TV). I loved this exchange when I saw it the first time. Little did I know how much it would hit home a few years later:

Miranda: This is what happens to tongue thrusters. I have to wear them for a year. Am I hideous?
Carrie: No. Hey... no. No, they don't look so bad.
Miranda: Really? You mean it?
Carrie: That's my story and I'm stickin' to it.

Charlotte: Are you in pain? I'm in pain just looking at you.
Miranda: I'm a 34-year-old with braces, and I'm on a liquid diet. Pain doesn't begin to cover it.

My 10 pound weight loss has been nice in the last few weeks. The lisping not so much. But let's just say lesson learned, Miranda. I will never eat olive tapenade on a date. (If I ever go out on a date again.)

Margaritas and Fashionistas

I'm sitting here sucking on chocolate chips, which I think is probably bad for the braces, but it's good for the soul, so who cares?

This is what made the Bionic Grin smile this Labor Day weekend:

I went to Fonda and enjoyed more than my fill of margaritas which made me forget all about my teeth. (It was a triumphant moment when I realized that I could eat the beans, which were delightful and the sauce on the enchiladas suisas made me absolutely swoon.) Apparently it's the place to be--even Nicole Miller was there trying out the vittles. Ah, Fashion week hipness! Thy name is Brooklyn? (Who knew?)

Here's the other highlight of the weekend:

I visited with two week old Zack, and his sweet mom, Ella. As you can see, Zack knows it's Fashion Week. Look at the outfit! The ennui on his face! Models can be so trying, can't they? And Anna Wintour? Whatever shall he do about her? Maybe he should just let the fashionistas fend for themselves this year, and just take a nap instead...

Let Me Entertain You...

It's my three week anniversary with the braces and for the first time, they hurt. My teeth feel like they're falling out. I am unhappy and I don't want to talk about it.

Here's what I do want to talk about:

As you know, it's a holiday weekend and I found myself on Bleecker Street in the mid-afternoon since I skipped out of work a touch early. This is what greeted me as I walked down the street:

It was a gaggle of models outside of Cynthia Rowley. I immediately thought that there was some kind of sample sale, but those have people who look like ME on line, not these earnest glamazons with legs like ladders. I passed a German photographer who was also just as taken with the scene as I was. She told me that all of the girls were waiting to audition for the runway shows next week. (How could I forget about Fashion Week?) She had a bewildered smile on her face when she told me that all the models were wearing sandals or flip flops, but once they were in view of the Rowley window, they put on their high heels--and all the same pair, apparently.

I was fascinated by the shoes:

What do you even call these things? High heeled booties? They make feet look vaguely witchy, but with those legs, I don't think anyone cares. I did feel a little bad for them. They all looked so young and uncertain...and like they had plantar fasciitis.

Looks like it was a good day for painful body parts!

Let's Get Visual!

I have just spent the last half hour trying to take a photo of the braces to share with those of you who haven't seen them yet. But quite frankly, it ain't so easy to take a clear photo of one's mouth all by oneself, and after seeing the final product, I realize that I cannot subject y'all to the way my gaping maw looks right now. Let's just wait until these teeth fix themselves a little better. For the first time, I'm actually ashamed. Good lord, why didn't anyone tell me how jacked up my teeth were?

I suppose it should make me feel better, after a realization like this, that I've taken action to remedy the dental situation, but quite frankly, it's rather disheartening.

So instead of looking at my gaping maw, look at this guy's:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6IuHV7xh2L4

(Sorry, Kira, I really did try to embed the video, but to no avail!)

At least he had the Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor braces thing going on, which is totally fun, but sheesh. If this is what I have to look forward to, I'll shut my trap with the complaining right now.

But! To rescue us all from a fate worse than a depressing posting, I'll put a lovely photo that I took here instead. I like the idea of posting photos that make this Bionic Grin, well, grin, so here we go:

I took this picture when visiting the Canadian Rockies a few years ago, and it's kinda how I feel right now--a little misty, but very clear about the situation, just like the water. And if you look where the land meets its reflection on the right side, it almost looks like it forms an arrow, pointing me forward, and urging me to simply move ahead.

Onward ho!

Foodie Status Restored!

The Bionic Grin is smiling.

For so many reasons!

First of all, I am smiling because my sweet friend Kira had made things not-so-technical for me! She taught me how to properly embed images into the blog (yes, I know you were all tittering about the fact that I was all proud that I could do it two posts ago, and really, it was a complete failure. But if you look back now, you'll see the image there all nice and proper!) So get ready! More photos to come! And I might just move on to video if you can handle it!

Secondly, I am smiling because my foodie status has been restored! Dinner at Cookshop! (One of my favorite places!) I ordered fish and I could eat it! It came with okra stew and it was delicious! And it didn't feel strange or difficult in my teeth! It's nothing short of a miracle! All is right once again with the Universe!

Thirdly I'm smiling because I'm sitting here with a slice of banana cake from Billy's Bakery and loving every minute of it. (Thanks to you, Michal!) Because I can eat it! My teeth still feel chalky and strange, but I'm learning to be true to myself once again. So much for those 10 pounds I just lost...

Just mere days ago, my friend Betsy, in honor of Ted Kennedy's passing made her grandmother's Hermit Square recipe, a lovely spiced cake, much like a blondie, dressed in autumnal finery of nutmeg and cloves. This recipe is a true New England original, first noted in cookbooks in 1860. It smelled divine, the butter absolutely filling the air. I cut it into tiny pieces and tried to gum at it, but simply not being able to sink my teeth into them, made me feel so disenfranchised. It was downright unAmerican not to enjoy Betsy's cake and give Ted a proper sendoff in the best way I could outside of Hyannis Port.

But now, there is so much for this bionic self to smile about. More grin-worthy posts to come!

Pregnant Pauses

Thanks to one and all for all of your electric toothbrush suggestions. Despite my best efforts, it is still too technical for me. It might be more useful as an *ahem* "personal massager." :)

I am surrounded by pregnant women lately, or women who have just had babies, and everything is counted in weeks or months. "The baby is 3 weeks old." Or "I'm 16 weeks pregnant." I've been knitting up a storm lately for all of my fertile friends.

Well, you know what? I'm two and a half weeks along myself. And at the end of my 2 year gestation, I get twins--a row of top teeth and a row of bottom teeth. They'll be perfectly healthy with a bright and shiny future ahead of them.

And the best part is, they don't poop a diaper.

(In fact, they smell rather minty fresh. )