How to Despise a Country in 10 Minutes or Less

Actually two countries. Okay, definitely one and a scary, neglectful event with another.

I’ve hesitated posting this all week because I was upset. I thought that by allowing a few days to pass, my agitation would too, but it hasn’t. I also used the word f*ck and thought that might offend a few folks, so I didn’t, no need to worry there. But a girl has to speak her mind, so here it goes.

Due to the weak Dollar, we’re getting an influx of visitors from other countries –and that’s great. Really. It’s fun to feel like we’re in an international city, like London where one can hear several different dialects surrounding one’s table.

NYC: Saturday – ICFF Party at the MOMA

After completing our booth installation, we walked ICFF and I made a few good contacts with mfg who do really cool stuff. I mean, out of this world stuff that’s only found in designer magazines. Hard to believe that I can be among them… collaborating.

Not knowing how big the show was, my first reaction was to walk it fast, ascertain the size and return to some of the neat showrooms that we made note of. We became decidedly jealous when we happened across this fabulous space within the show (imagine ribbons hanging from the ceiling made of car seat belt material) that were taught from ceiling to floor enclosing a wet bar -we were jealous that they had a wet bar -making this the hippest show to be scene at. Walking past, the ribbons of seat belts with channels of ghostly lighting being emitted from tiny channels in the floor made the folks sitting on benches inside appear as though they were in a hellish jail. The folks were calm, hanging out, texting their friends and sipping beers and martinis.

So exhausted, we found a little french bistro that we discovered a year ago across the hotel (we usually head to Greenwich Village -much cheaper, much more delish!) due to the nasty rain and the fact that we didn’t want to head out very far and expend any more energy than we had to.

The exhaustion forced us to skip one party for which I had registered and move on to the next -our first real NYC party at the MOMA (one block down from the hotel). It’s everything you imagine from the movies. Requisite black blazers for straight guys and velvet jackets for the gays. Women wore mostly black, I was the only one in a blue sexy sweater. Lifting hor d’oeurves from waiter’s trays and snagging wine from the bar -it was an experience. Seriously, it was a fun party (lots of rude, tall, “I live the bulemic lifestyle, so screw you” types) as we traversed the schools of wannabes and made it to some of the fascinating exhibits.

Currently, there is an exhibit by Dan Perjovschi, a Romanian -I call ‘the wall of scribbles’- that was almost 40 feet high -can’t wait to upload photos- remarking the absurdity of US life.