The ‘80’s are notorious for bad fashion, big over-processed hair, TV melodramas and a mind-boggling range of music styles. Everyone talks of, or remembers the ‘80’s with a certain…a certain…I don’t know…(take your own head trip back of examples). But what about 1980? The specific year, not the decade. Just 1980. 1980 was an absolutely profound and life-changing year for me in my young, young life.

1980. Sawtry, England, 70 miles or so north of London. Short hair. Drainpipe jeans. Doc Marten’s or pork pie-style shoes (don’t ask). Nickname: Half Pint. Bedroom walls covered with posters of David Bowie (okay, and Starsky and Hutch—mainly Starsky). I couldn’t wait for Top Of The Pops to come on the telly (similar to American Bandstand if you’re old enough to remember that show). Enter bands like The Boomtown Rats, (I still heart Bob Geldof), The Stranglers, Plastic Bertrand, Dexy’s Midnight Runners (not ‘Come on Eileen’ but ‘Geno’), a heady mixture of mod-reggae, sax and trombones. And the likes of um, er, Leo Sayer, Gary Glitter, Status Quo and who can forget Sir Cliff Richards—who is still around. Love that the Brits aren’t ageists!

Enter stage right this skinny raven-haired gal with her now trademark leather pants, charcoal eyes and a charcoal voice to match. “Stop, stop, stop your sobbing now…” “Gonna use my arms. Gonna use my legs. Gonna use my style. Gonna use my senses…Gonna use my fingers…Gonna make ya, make ya, make ya notice…” Did she ever. Oh, Chrissie Hynde. Thank you for The Pretenders. She was my first rock goddess before I knew the meaning of the words. I loved her. I wanted to be like her. It didn’t dawn on me that I could, or should even try…Damnit! Damnit! Damnit!

Three decades later she’s still rocking. A lot of us still love her—if not even more so today. Her last album (no offense to not talking about her fantabulous band mates), ‘Break up the Concrete’, reached #32 on the Billboard charts. Any day now she’s releasing a new album called ‘Fidelity’ with JP & The Fairground Boys. She long gave up the Scotts, (think ex-hubby Jim Kerr, lead singer of Simple Minds), to go Welsh with former lover JP Jones, still the singer/songwriter of the new band. That’s another story—and a good one: (myspace.com/jpchrissie). The album is honest, tragic, comic and obviously about them.

Chrissie’s long been known as a devout vegetarian—she even owns a restaurant in Akron, Ohio called Vegi Terranean. In addition, she’s a member of People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals (PETA) and became infamous for once saying something along the lines of “I’d rather feed my kids gasoline than an animal”. Like she’d do that. She was making a point people! One of my favorite quotes and it happens to be from 1980, and is so relevant to where she’s evolved to, is from an interview with Kurt Loder of Rolling Stone magazine, “I don’t quite feel like a woman until I’ve got my eyes drawn on. I’ve got a technique that doesn’t take any time, and you can do it when you’re drunk…if I put on something pretty, it would be a joke, you know? I can’t help it.”

Who knew that some 30 years later, her no-fuss, edgy-rocker iconic look would evolve into a fashion line of her own. In another collaboration with JP, they will be launching a fashion line called Fairground Luck. It honors JP’s childhood as the son of a carnival arcade owner. The line will appeal to musicians and style mavens alike: T-shirts, skinny jeans, leather jackets, handbags and boots, all animal-skin free—of course.

Chrissie says in an interview with Women’s Wear Daily, “Like most women, I love fashion and clothes”, and counts eco-designer Stella McCartney as a good friend. Hynde says, “I love handbags and shoes. Everybody will be able to find everything they love in a non-leather version. Fashion should be fun.” JP interjects, “Everything should be fun.” Wouldn’t that be nice.

When will Fairground Luck be available? Where will it be sold? Will it be affordable? All I know is that many of us rocker wannabe fashionistas can’t wait.

Keep ya posted.

Prada coat (image from Bazaar)

The Prada collection for Fall 2010 is très Mod – even the models had curves. “The ample bust was the unavoidable focal point of the silhouette, picked out in balconies of lace ruffles and upstanding pointy-bra formations on raised-waist, wide-skirted dresses and coats. Any girl on the runway who didn’t have the natural Bardot-esque equipment was bestowed with it by means of frothy fabric placements,” (Style.com). The Prada coat in the picture is definitely something to die for – or to purchase if you have $3,100 sitting around.

Coming across a novelty piece at a flea market is like winning the lottery.  Last month I won the lottery – at the LA Rose Bowl. I stumbled upon an orange mohair bomber by Anne Klein made in the early ‘60’s. The jacket had lived in only one closet and didn’t smell (I’ve had to sacrifice many vintage pieces that were perfect but stank). The jacket is very Prada-esque and, in fact, the color is exactly the same color of orange as my Prada lace skirt  from Fall ’08 – coulda woulda Prada. But it’s Anne Klein and I cannot wait for the cold winter to sport it around town.

Anne Klein vintage mohair bomber

My Pink Dresses

If the color of pink is the color of womanhood and love, then I have a history of abuse of my womanhood and love. The pinkness in my life has been all or nothing. I grew up as a total tomboy – very physical: jumping off garages, skiing like a boy, loving fast vehicles, and barely owning a dress. I didn’t expect to hit the pink era (ever), but it did happen in my early 20’s. So much so, that every sheet, towel, and pillow in my apartment were pink. All my bath products and perfumes were in pink containers.

My pink era, however, didn’t last longer than 3 years – it went away when I overdosed on pink. I felt nauseous one day looking at my bedroom and seeing my man (at the time) lying on a pink-laced pillowcase on a pink-sheeted bed. I knew right then that I needed more masculine surroundings and I needed to activate both my yin and yang – I’d been active on one at a time. I had gone from Levi’s jeans (short-cut tomboy), to Lady Marmalade in Strawberry Shortcake’s world

When I hit my mid 20’s, I had hidden all the evidence of my Strawberry world and didn’t have a single pink item in my home or closet.

Once I was able to trust that my feminine and masculine sides were equally active, I slowly added a splash of pink back into my life. It came in dresses and some lingerie. Today my Scandinavian mid-century home décor is all white and brown with a splash of orange and red. Knowing that there isn’t pink in my home, I find it safe to add a bit more pink into my closet. I do love pink, but I don’t think in pink. And too much of the good stuff is never appealing to me – pink can creep me out a much as it can nourish me.

Having found a healthy way to use pink sans overdosing or doing a 12-step program – I don’t ever take pink for granted. This season, seeing the September fashion magazines and remembering what came down the runway last February for Fall 2010, there’s definitely pinkness on the horizon. On that note, I counted five LPD (Little Pink Dresses) in my walk-in.  That’s pink healthy, no?

Bottega Veneta - Bazaar

Couture Report spread in Bazaar

Balenciaga

Miu Miu

Yves Saint Laurent

Louis Vuitton

Shoes for Fall 2010 resemble candy…. Yummy! View my faves (via Bazaar and Vogue)

Gramercy Park

Clinton Hill Brooklyn

August 27, 2010

Friday:

Just as Anna Rosa Parker stands tall and strong, clad in Celine SS10 block wedges, so we hope our readers feel the same wherever they call home (whether it be humble or haute).

We understand how chasing the fabulous lifestyle of black tie affairs and merlot stained evenings can catch up with us struggling Bridget Jones’. “40 Days and 40 Nights” is not simply the title of that Josh Hartnett movie, it’s a reality that sets in when your Blackberry is shut off because that French calf clutch at Bergdorf was homeless. You had the right intentions, only now you are fighting for both the roof over your head and the lambskin lining in that beautiful clutch as well. Don’t worry.

Wherever it may be that you park your platforms and hang your 2.55, take comfort in it all. We are chasing the dream together.

The pictures are examples of where some New Yorkers are resting their tired heads (and Mastercards). We appreciate the architecture and charm of both. They are certainly different, yet I am sure there is a little Fabwick behind both.

Gramercy Park

“Charmed with Credit”

Current Resident: Fabulous

Clinton Hill Brooklyn

“Alice or Wonderland”

Current Resident: Wicked

Love,

Preston

From September Vogue

Anna Rosa Parker in Céline platforms

Vogue’s been seeing the Céline studded wooden platform all over New York City. It’s an epic shoe – a crazy shoe. Almost doesn’t look like a shoe. Well, it’s also been caught in Seattle – on my own feet. I’m obsessed with it. And of course I adore the height of it. A surprise quality: this platform is more comfortable than your grandma’s slipper. It’s a flight of height!

Allison Leach

Meet my dear friend Allison Leach via Seattlest…

We’re seeing a whole  lot of mixed patterns these days. Candy Cane knee socks and plaid cargo shorts, or plaid on plaid – Why not? Or not…?

Atop the city of Athens, I stood on slick marbles and loose rocks, thinking of the people that had stood there before me. I thought of Greece’s past and the amazing story behind it all: How had mere men, centuries ago, built such structures that we still consider masterpieces? Normally, I would walk the streets of my everyday life, failing to think about the “hows” and “whys” of the world. I never thought of how things came to be just. I felt myself falling victim to the expectations of modernity. I expected buildings to stand before me because that seemed to be how it had always been. It was during my first day of exploration that I learned to think of the simplicity of bare land before the superficial constructions of man. Here I was, standing beneath the “most perfect building” known to man. “How had the Ancient Greeks known that the human eye had a defect in which slightly curved lines would appear straight?” the man on the sidewalk asked. I pondered the importance of such a question and realized that this was a reminder of the empire’s dominance at the time of the construction of theAcropolis. The valiant stance of the Acropolis over the city leaves a military and architectural dominance reminiscent of all the values and characteristics of an empire.

I also found myself connecting everything I had seen out in the city of Athens back to my limited historical and cultural knowledge of Greece and its past. Here I was, a student of a mere 20 years of age, exploring one of the most culturally and historically rich nations of our past. I had read books on mythology, watched Hollywood’s depiction of Greek life and read travel guides in order to prepare for my trip to the Mediterranean country. However, no matter how much time I spent with my nose buried in the books of transcribed knowledge, I could not begin to experience such a place without my own journey. Sure, travel literature made me feel as though I too, had driven the curvy roads of the countryside, but my visions didn’t take true form until I had embarked on my own travels through Greece. I scribbled every taste, sight, sound, and feeling into my leather-bound journal.

Before visiting Greece, I had this vision of blue beaches, tanned men and Greek salads galore. Granted, all those things that I had hoped for were there, but with the addition of so much more that I wasn’t expecting. For one, I was shocked to learn true Greek salads are sans lettuce! Salads aside, within each traveler of this hot country lies an incessant thirst that must be quenched – literally. I can’t tell you how many times I found my tongue parched, searching my mouth for the slightest resemblance of the cool wetness it craved. Metaphorically speaking, I had a thirst as well, to explore and discover. I wanted to explore the country of Greece and understand what made its people work the way they did and act the way they did.

I have never seen such a strong since of nationalism as I was able to witness firsthand through chats with locals out on the streets of Athens. It was surprising because even when someone would seem so displeased with the Greek government and the current economic situation in Greece (I’m sure you’ve all heard about it, if you haven’t check out Google) – they would still hold that they were in fact happy living in Greece. They held a hope for a better future and the love for a greater past.

While in Greece I was able to better understand the so-called “Greek hubris” as I attended a traditional Greek wedding. I became aware of the pride, admiration and love between the people who played witness to such a celebration. The wedding was tasteful, nothing as exaggerated as what I had anticipated from the images that Hollywood had instilled in my mind from movies like My Big Fat Greek Wedding, but still Greek in form nonetheless.

As I stood outside the church, people were chatting as honking approached from the road below and the bride pulled up in a small black car. As she stepped out and walked the flower-lined aisle to the church, friends and family followed her into the navel of the church. This was no ordinary church. It had Greek Orthodox written all over it – reminiscent of the old European churches I had visited in the West, except this one was full of life. People stood with their families and were part of the community. I noticed the wedding seemed to be focused more on the two families rather than on the union of the bride and groom. This was quite different from what I had come to accept as the norms of American weddings. The Greek wedding involved the audience and their families on a much higher activity level. At one point during the ceremony, everyone in the audience got up and starting kissing, shaking hands and hugging one another, as if they were welcoming each other into their respective lives. I threw rice on the wedded couple. I lined up outside the church to give my congratulations according to Greek tradition. Unfortunately, I never heard an “opa!” or witnessed the breaking of a plate like I had hoped. Still, the wedding was classic and the reception was wild. Greek dancing and music. Enough said.

In a world in which globalization is destructive of any uniqueness still left within populations, Greeks have managed to keep their personality and their wits. Greeks are said to marry other Greeks. Greeks are loud, a bit stubborn, but unnaturally respectful. They eat Feta like they are getting paid to do so, and nothing is complete without the addition of olive oil. If cuisine weren’t the primary thing Greeks were exuberantly proud of, it would have to all come back to family. Greek families are large in number and in dignity. Forget about nuclear families in Greece.  Everyone is a cousin, uncle, aunt, or extended family member. Everyone is related.

Also, if you are planning a Greek trip in the near future and need some suggestions for your island travels, feel free to comment – I’ve visited quite a few!