personal
Monday, January 30th, 2012
I just got to see the amazing Matthew Broderick Ferris Bueller Superbowl ad. I loved it so I ran out and purchased a Honda CRV (OK, I already had one). It was a treat and I am still smiling, ear to ear!
I grew up in the age of John Hughes. The 80s had a lot to teach us (my children find my knowledge of neon fashion, ripped tees and well John Hughes to be more than impressive/ annoying). But what they don’t get is how much I learned from Ferris Bueller. That day, that one wondrous day has it all…and there is nothing that comes close to that pitch-perfect movie. I have been trying to get my kids “in” but the movie moves too slowly for them, my kids can’t really appreciate it – somehow the wildest adventure of all time feels dull to them. I am miffed.
Still, Ferris has played a big part in their growing up. My parenting style (call it what you will) has always been balanced by an eye towards that day off. The fact that we all need it. And sometimes, quite badly. And so in the world where I am Mommy (cut to the 2012 Julia shot – still me , but wait – where are those cool highlights?!?!) each one of my kids is allowed one “mental health day” per year. On that day we go our own wild adventures – we visit museums, watch movies, try new restaurants, take a drive, take a shop, explore new neighborhoods – we just take a day off. It is completely a la Ferris and completely rich on so many levels. I see them as they see the world – just one on one – with no agenda but discovery and fun. It is bonding and bumming all at once. An really it is priceless. Yup, I am sold…
Cue the Ferris music….
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Thursday, July 14th, 2011
One all of my all time favorites - L'Oustalet in Gigondas, France
- Weekend Market – Uzes, France
Cheese in Annecy
Oh France can not come soon enough….bon (or Bob!!) appetit!
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Sunday, June 19th, 2011
Oh this is completely off topic – except that there is no possible way to understand me and thus all that is now Forty Weeks without first imagining me in my yellow bedroom on Frobel Road in Laverock, Pennsylvania completely lost in my Bruce albums. I got a brand new stereo for my Bat Mitzvah (thank you Uncle Herb) and I can still see myself there, in that end bedroom (when not spending countless hours on my “private” line 232-5332) listening to Bruce albums. The River had just been released and it seemed so had some powerful passion inside of me. I still cry when I hear certain versions of The River. It was bigger than any emotion I had experienced and the notion of being de-flowered of my emotional innocence still rattles me a bit. Loss? Hopelessness? Despair? Disappointment? The street? All this was new to the newly minted teenager in Philadelphia.
I went journeying backwards through the Bruce catalog and spent my days making sense of the world through his poetic lens. There is none of that without Clarence Clemons. There was something about the way he blew that sax that drew me in and never released me . It was not just the melancholy it was also the party that he brought to the table. And the best part – back then, was the live shows and the amazing camaraderie between Bruce and Clarence. That is how I wanted my work to feel (and it does, btw) – connected to and surrounded by people who love what they do as much as I and frankly who feel it…big, juicy and real. This was a relationship that moved and motivated me to find and surround myself with my own - loving, like-minded, and spirited, The friendship, care and respect is so evident in these images:
And so last night, in the wee hours (I really could not sleep) I wrote my goodbye to the Big Man. And so with love and sadness, goodbye Clarence, goodbye and thank you.
It is a sad, somber day on E Street. Saying goodbye to one of the most talented, charismatic and soulful spirits – what a gift you were! Clarence has been the omnipresent musical force that has elevated, emoted and engaged both on stage and off. There is no soundtrack of my life without his sax, and for that I am grateful. RIP to the Big Man…oh how you will be missed.
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Saturday, March 12th, 2011
I hit the jackpot when it comes to genes. Born into a long line of innovators, risk-takers and highly creative and motivated souls, I came out pitching new business ideas and sparking from day one. And thanks to the patience and humor of my mother I was active – marking most of our personal belongings for sale (loved those little stickers!!!) and launching new concepts from the age of five! How about that?!?. Curious about who was on the leading edge of selling water – look no further, it was me circa 1974 (truth be told, Joanne shut me down, as it was unseemly to sell water – but I compromised and agreed to sell it for free). But really, it was not just the nature it was also the nurture that propelled me on my way.
I worked. And I worked and I worked some more. But first I watched. My early working memories are Saturday mornings at my Father’s office. A space so magical words could not do justice to the whole of it. The warehouse filled with SKUs, a certain smell of boxes and fabric ink, a man named Jackson who was in charge of that giant space and rode me around on his lift – pure power! And what of the copy machine, cubicles, order entry stamps, dusty floor, and of course, the soda machine (bottles, I kid you not)? It was the stuff that my dreams were made of.
And then there was my Mommom’s office (that would be N. Leah Lipson to you) – there she sat – smoking her Parliaments, holding court and signing checks – she was Auntie Mame in the corner office – oh what energy she had! And there too I soaked it in and tucked away the way in which she spoke to her staff, the way in which they responded to her and the spell she cast.
There was also the Magazine. I certainly remember the grandeur of those offices at 1500 Walnut– complete 70s chic, Hermes scarves framed on the walls and stylish young people everywhere. I remember the publishing side as chic. My Uncle Herb’s office and the omni-present Irene were the inner-sanctum. I found myself there a lot over the years. The editing side was a place of constant motion – and those who worked on that side were so vibrant. I recall rubber cement – because it was “way back when” and my cousin Sherry (who to this day is one of my greatest de facto mentors) was in the business of cut and paste – old school. WOW – that was power – she laid out the magazine – decided the who and the what and the where – and it was nothing short of mind blowing to me.
And that was all mine….incredible really!
So on mornings like this, I am thinking about the good luck and feeling nothing but gratitude not only for the genes but also for the constant exposure to the possibilities. How I would use my talents was and still is completely up to me. As I get ready to host a round table next week for the JPMA (yes that is what I am meant to be working on right now) I am imagining the roundtable of my life – these influential people who loved and encouraged me though both word and example. And feeling the echoes of their love and support as continue on my way…
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Saturday, November 20th, 2010
I have called in my “best boys” to help take the damp chill out of this dreary November day. Here is the line-up:
Vince, James and Donald. My “A” team — here is the plan: Some cozy comfort from Vince in the form of yummy cardigan in the richest of browns. Then some James to show some love (and create some illusion of length) to my tush and legs. And, we can finish the whole thing off with Donald (Pliner that is) and my absolute favorite boots of the season. They are as rocking as boots can be, yet completely comfortable. All in all – the perfect trio for my Saturday hang.
Vince (drop needle wool shrug)
James Jeans in graphite
Donald J. Pliner Dalilia Boots
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Tuesday, August 31st, 2010
August 31 — the day I became a mother and the day I fell head over heals for a little girl who continues to amaze and inspire me each and every day. Lila my love — you are a wonder, and all who know you would agree! They would also agree that you have a sweet tooth that has no equal (and the ability to bake yourself silly!!!). So on the occasion of your 12th birthday- here is a walk down memory lane: your first taste of cake and milk.
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Sunday, August 8th, 2010
Well this wonderful trip is about to come to an end…I promise great tales and pictures too. In the meantime, here is some Paris to warm your Sunday!
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Sunday, July 25th, 2010
I am the direct descendant of a Mad Man; Mad Men, actually. I spent my childhood surrounded by all the trappings of that most remarkable heyday – or really the remains of the day. The family continues to thrive in the post-mad men, super-digital, Wild West era. My grandfather’s raging creativity and risk taking in the late 1940s and 1950s set the stage for generations of us making a living in the luckiest and sometimes riskiest of ways – surrounded by remarkable people who, like us fed on good ideas and were always on the hunt and at the ready for the next thing. We were blessed with an amazing history, back-story and powerful genes. And the lot of us have all found our way into the most remarkable places. Mine is here at the helm of Forty Weeks. I’d like to think that my unearthing and nurturing of a new niche would be just the thing that would float my Grandfather’s boat – and I am sure he would be proud.
Watching Mad Men, for me has been strangely bittersweet. On one hand, it feels familiar and inviting. I am captivated as the faded family photographs come to life. And why not? I have paid close attention to and savored this new glimpse into the era (I feel like my little kid self – looking down the stairs from the second floor landing) – the design, the music and the mood of the day are all a treat for the senses. The clothes, the cars the parties are all so familiar. Even the office furniture rings real. There are the offices, the homes and the clubs (and if you are wondering about those clubs and other institutions of the day, we were terribly assimilated and that is how that worked). It is a time I had glamorized in my mind. There is little doubt that I have let the cream rise to the top and had all but ignored what I must have already known. The rise of advertising, and the culture that it propagated was a white boys club. This was the cultural norm, this was everywhere and this was the social standard. And is our collective history – not just mine but ours. And while I knew (yes I had information about where women and minorities did and did not fit in) I know it never really connected it to my personal history. And certainly, I never really allowed it to permeate my view of the day.
Along comes Mad Men. And with the new, rekindled romance of the times comes a new found take on the reality of so much of what was wrong about it. Mad Men has forced me to reconsider the role of women in my family and in our business. And to, finally process the whole of it – not just the sweet and shiny parts. And so, I will do just that. Somehow, come to terms with the glory and the shame of this era, my personal history and then tuck them away somewhere safe. Mainly because I have miles to go before I sleep and the legacy of all who came before me urging me on to the next creative challenge…not to make it right but simply because I can.
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Wednesday, July 7th, 2010
I don’t often go wordless – but this week I shall…
Check out my warrior:
Lila shoots the first bulls eye of camp this season!
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Tuesday, June 29th, 2010
she's got the beat too...
Seriously, she does… take a look at Ms. Lila getting her groove on at camp! Yes I miss my girls — and really how great is seeing this?
Lila rocks her guitar at camp
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