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rue-madame's Diaryland Diary


The Bronx is up and the Battery's down

Tuesday in Manhattan was also great.

TA and I met Gentry de Paris at her hotel where she gave us the insider’s tour of her latest collection. Much to TA’s chagrin, there was no stripping involved.

Ladies and gentlemen, the lingerie is absolutely to die for! Not only are all the couture details you’ve come to expect there (seams, finishes, butter-soft cashmere, silk satin, lace, velvet,) but the adornment and colors are beautiful beyond anything luxurious you’ve seen in stores.

Eres and Prada are whisper-light minimalist chic, Fifi Chachnil is girly retro cigarette girl, but Gentry de Paris is drop dead sophisticated. It’s lingerie for women, not teenagers. I am totally in love with the colors this season—they run the gamut from tasteful pink to deep metallics in warm gray and a soft brass. In a way, the palette feels like New York to me--the Chrysler and Flatiron buildings are reflected in the metallics and architecture of the underpinings…

I have to get our celebrity sighting out of the way first: we saw Tyler Brulé at the W magazine offices. Gentry had to point him out to me because I was in some kind of crazy headspace where I wasn’t checking adorable gay men out. When I turned around to look at him, I nearly died. It was indeed HIM!! The gay man inside of me was screaming and squealing and hyperventilating! He has been my Secret Gay Boyfriend for many, many years. Ever since I heard him speak at an AIGA-sponsored event in SF, I have been in love with his genius and wit for, like, EVER.

Anyway, if you do not know how brilliant and clever this man is, allow me to sum up: first of all, he is Canadian and we all know how I feel about our friendly neighbors to the North. Canadians rule! Tyler Brulé is a BBC-trained journalist who after being shot in a war-torn part of the world (and there is a very funny story that I am incapable of doing justice to about Tyler asking a photojournalist to hold onto his Rolex while being medivac’ed,) returned to London to recover and dreamt up Wallpaper magazine. After he sold the magazine, he went on to found this branding and trend consulting firm.

I had goosebumps that lasted from Herald Square back to Gentry’s Union Square digs.

Other highlights of our day together include:
- splitting a pumpkin spice donut and Denis Leary-ly requesting “coffee-flavored coffee”
- presents in the form of a chocolatey Petit Bateau t-shirt, an adorable neckerchief, a cd and the latest issue of Madame Figaro.
- going to The Met and being horrified by the exhibit at the Costume Institute. The clothes, the jewelry, the shoes, the displays… everything was HORRIBLE. I mean, Kate Spade shoes? Since when do those belong in a museum? And there was no chronology, the Ralph Rucci was mixed with the Oscar de la Renta. It was just an awful hodgepodge.
- Fortunately The Met redeemed itself with
this show, this show, and this painting of Gertrude Stein.
- Having a cab driver mistake me for a New Yorker when I refused to go along with his decision to go all the way to 8th to get us to the Empire State Building (we were at 17th and 2nd!) “Take 3rd and make a left on 35th, drop us on the corner at 5th.” It doesn’t matter that he told Gentry we were beautiful—he tried to fleece us!
- A woman at Sephora complimenting me on my boots. I love it when that happens.
- Cute boys checking me out. That NEVER happens to me in Connecticut.
- Watching Gentry try on and buy the grooviest Victorian-meets-Dominatrix boots.

The train ride home was exhausting, but I did manage to squeeze in a few minutes with TA at NYU before running off to Grand Central to catch the 8:37pm.

Too bad the day had to end on a sour note: I found a giant piece of gum stuck to the TOP of my left boot, and it was gloopily adhering my pant leg to the leather. Poo.

2:44 p.m. - 2005-10-26



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