The Inner Finery of Refinery29.

For me, Refinery29 is (almost) on par with Vogue. The digital content brings me up-to-the-minute insight on all inter-workings of the fashion world. Claudia Chan's interview with R29's Editor in Chief Christene Barberich demonstrates that the site's success is a direct product of the inspired journey of an industry and editorial veteran. Explore R29's content. Explore the interview. Be motivated to explore what YOU have to offer.

On her time at Gourmet Magazine:
"I was there for four years, and it was my own form of intensive journalism school but centered around premium lifestyle content—travel, cooking, and extraordinary personalities—which is what I loved most. Fashion was always a huge interest, but for some reason, I found it too limiting to focus on just that."
-Christene Barberich

On "what she knows for sure:"
"In life and work: That kindness begets kindness. To always say thank you (and mean it). And to know that failure is a huge part of the road to success…never fear it because one cannot exist without the other."
-Christene Barberich

Danny Roberts

In assisting and learning from the Social Media Manager of Camuto Group (allow me to add that she is amazing and possesses an incredible understanding of her craft), I've been scouring a variety of fashion blogs and related style resources. Yesterday, I came across a few particularly eye-catching paintings and drawings by artist Danny Roberts. Exploring his online portfolio this morning, I've become completely smitten.
Below: iconic pieces from renowned designers as interpreted through whimsical strokes on canvas. Enjoy!

Spreadin' the Good News...

Elastic waist pants aren't just for our grandmas anymore, ladies. The pink britches pictured above were purchased from the Vince Camuto SoHo store this past weekend and debuted on the Upper West Side on Saturday night. Featuring plenty of wiggle room for pizza or cupcakes or martinis or whatever your caloric pleasure, grab a pair of your own and head out-on-the-town in an ensemble as comfy as pajamas.

Cheap Thrills: Monday Nights

Last Monday, I threw caution to the wind and ignored my general habit of avoiding scary movies. With a few of my closet friends, old and new, I enjoyed Hitchcock's classic horror film, "Psycho." Much to my delight, when crowded on the lawn of Bryant Park with new city dwellers and seasoned New Yorkers, Hitchcock became no less thrilling but far less frightening. Movies are scheduled for every Monday this summer at the same venue. Come and join me!

Conversation with my boss - a native of NYC

Me: I love walking the streets of NYC. I hope I never lose this enthusiasm. But...I'm sure I probably will at some point.

Sarah: I don't think any of us ever lose the enthusiasm. We just loose the time.

Sample Sellin'

A phenomenon exists in New York City - that of the sample sale. Last week, I made a quick trip to 57th street to celebrate a national Manhattan holiday - The Tory Burch Sample Sale.

As a PR intern, I work exclusively with samples. When a magazine requests merchandise for a specific story, the PR specialists and I choose clothing and accessories from an extensive sample closet. When seasons pass and samples are no longer relevant to editorial stories, the samples are purged from our closet. Thus emerges the phenomenon of the sample sale - an opportunity for women far and wide to purchase bags, shoes, clothes and other pretty things for 30-70% off...

Last week, I ventured to 57th street to experience my first Sample Sale. I added to my rather small - but fast expanding - collection of Tory Burch. I purchased a canvas carry-all in mustard and grey. I sported it all weekend and have continued to tote it throughout my work week.

THEN, imagine my delight when I was able to attend a Camuto Group sample sale few short days later. Whether or not my bank account was prepared for another marathon sample-sale-snagging, I walked away with 3 Camuto Group products - shoes from Tory, crossbody from Giani Bini and never produced clutch from Vince.

How I love quality purchases and how I ADORE New York City shopping!


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In the words of Nora Jones, "New York City, such a beautiful disease."
Great weekend in Georgia but glad to be back in the city I now call home.

Father's Day

What a blessing to be able to spend part of Father's Day back in Georgia with the most perfect daddy in the world. I blog now from 32 thousand feet as I am in route on an MD88 back to NYC.

It's no secret that I HATE flying - nothing scares me more - but my past few flights (this one included) are leading me on the fast track to embracing the safest way to travel. This afternoon, before takeoff, I alerted the flight attendant as to my anxiety about the flight experience. She took me straight to the pilots, who invited me into the cock pit.

"We've been doing this for years," the pilot, George, told me reassuringly. "There's nothing to be scared of, little Macy."

Five minutes later, his voice reverberated over the intercom. "We'll be pulling out of Atlanta shortly," he said. "And upon request of one of our valued first-class customers, we've been advised to avoid all turbulence. Enjoy the flight, folks."

The secret to overcoming a fear of air travel: a friendly crew, approachable pilot, and a couple of overflowing glasses of white wine (sorry, mom - it's true!)




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Location:Up In The Air

It doesn't matter where I choose to hang my hat (preferably a floppy, multicolored one); people, memories and events that have shaped and continue to influence who I am (and will one day become...) will always guide me home.
Happy wedding day, dear friend! Thank you for providing an excuse for me to make a weekend trip back South; thank you for including me in your iconic moment; thank you for being a woman I both adore, admire and aspire to emulate.

Pumped Up Kicks.

Fashion - from my vantage point, at least - isn't intended to be practical. I've swiped my credit card more times than I care to admit building my collection of designer handbags and flashy frocks. Perhaps the only element of my personal style that verges on practicality is my taste - or, at least, my purchasing habits - for shoes.
I love ballet flats. I love comfortable, moderate-height wedges. I love Chacos and the occasional pair of designer flip flops. I love western-inspired boots. As much as I hate to admit it, however, my shoe closet just doesn't measure up to New York standards.
The women I work with at Camuto Group pair every professional (fashion-industry friendly, that is) ensemble with an iconic, head-turning, STUNNING pair of sky-high heels. My roommate, Danielle, is no exception to this in-office rule. Granted, many of these trendy execs stash a set of Tory revas in their totes for inner-city errands and the commute home; but while parading the showroom floor, they are tall, leggy, fashion-forward and flawless. My first week at work encouraged needed (ok - wanted) purchases for new shoes.
I left 5-inch stilettos back in Georgia for a reason. Thus, I refrained from grabbing another stoic pair I could neither enjoy or walk in. After sampling a few silhouettes at the VC SoHo store, I discovered boxy heels and wedges provided the most support for my clumsy, bounding frame. Furthermore, neutral colors undoubtedly coordinate with the largest majority of my wardrobe while unexpected pops of intrigue transform seeming simple into stunningly seductive.
Meet my new shoes for the summer - 3 different pairs, 3 different sides of my personality. The first, a no-name selection snagged from the bargain bin at Nordstrom Rack sparkles, shines and towers - like my inner diva. The second, a BCBG (a sect of Camuto Group, of course) wedge was uncovered at my Mecca - TJ Maxx. The color blocked combination of tan and cobalt mirror my trendsetting ideals. Finally, the VC Berit Heel - admired from afar for months and finally bought to complete next weekend's bridesmaid ensemble - allows me to channel a vintage, Golden-Age-of-Hollywood class act.
Thank you, New York, for providing me with three versatile and vivacious picks for a powerful summer in PR.

Starry-Eyed Surprise.

"I can show you the most gorgeous dress in this store."
We were browsing yet another pricey - although alluring - boutique on Bleeker Street. Not a stitch of clothing in "Roni" fit the budget of a fashion intern living on mere dreams and [expensive] burgers in NYC. 
"Really, though. Have a special occasion? This is the dress for you."
He removed from a rack and proudly displayed a taffeta frock - the shape and luster of an orange trash bag cinched with elastic at the hem.
"You've got to be kidding me." All southern charm vanished in response to his proposal.
"Try it on. Really. It will change your life."
Danielle and I smirked at one another. I shook my head and continued to peruse the shoe shelves. 
Ignoring my refusal, he pulled back the lenin curtain of a dressing room. 
"Just put it on, throw on those black booties," he gestured to a pair of pumps resting on a footstool behind. "And I'll make you forget any dress you've ever tried on before this one."
His persistence had claimed my attention. "Ok. If I try it on, you know I'm not going to buy it - right?" 
"You can do whatever you want. Humor me."
Into the fitting room I went. Minutes later, out I emerged in the shapeless coral frock. 
I raised an eyebrow at the certain salesman as I jutted a hip out in front of the sprawling mirror.
"Alright, don't smack me," he begged and in one fluid motion, the bottom of the dress had been pulled up over my panties - exposing my lower half to the empty boutique. The gathered  bottom rested on my hips, allowing the remainder of the iridescent fabric to fall voluminously several inches above my knees. He added a wide black belt and gold necklace before stepping back and admiring his handiwork.
My mouth dropped and I turned to Danielle.
"Uh, me next!" She exclaimed enthusiastically!
Thus, two small-town girls received celebrity treatment in the West Village. We twirled and giggled and posed for pictures - all before seriously considering the price tag stuffed  discretely behind our zippers.
We'd made a new friend and enjoyed one of the many perks of living in a trend-driven metropolis. Though we turned onto 7th Avenue starry-eyed and empty handed, our fond memories will undoubtedly bring the dresses back to the Southeast in the fall.

Trade-offs.

"Instead of cars, New Yorkers have bags. And shoes. And coats."
- Bob at "Roni" on Bleecker Street

Breakfast

Welcome to the NYC Fashion Industry - where breakfast consists of a cup of coffee and a pack of cigarettes....wait, scratch that, no one smokes right now.
- Fashion Photographer

New York City - a place where smoking isn't only a silent killer, but a trend that goes in and out of Vogue.

You Live (and you work) and You Learn

The past few days, I've done everything from organize a sample closet spring to fall, to return merchandise for celebrities. I've switched dresses from the upscale VC Signature line from plastic to velvet hangers, and I've learned to pull and log requests from magazines like Vogue and Marie Claire. 

I've mastered the subway route to and from work. I've nearly perfected the art of throwing my bangled arm into the air to hail a cab. I no longer get lost when walking from the 36th Street Vince Camuto offices and showroom to the 56th street VC and Jessica Simpson emporiums. I trot along the sidewalks of Manhattan hastily and without smiling as I mentally caluculate my to-do-list - all the while navigating my route from avenue to avenue. 

I'm far from a native of this strange, expansive city and even further from a Fashion PR guru like the stylish and certain women I work under as an intern. However, in a week, I've transitioned from clueless to content.

Today, I joined the VC Marketing/Production teams and my fellow intern, roommate and dear friend Danielle for a special afternoon honoring a recent contest winner. We took Sally, a 3rd grade teacher from California, to SoHo for a fancy lunch and shopping sesh - during which she was invited to pick a head-to-toe VC look. As Danielle and I giggled with the sweet, San Diego girl and seasoned members of Camuto Group operations, we could hardly believe that less than 6 months ago WE had been invited to the same flagship store as a selective treat. When serving as college ambassadors, Danielle and I were one of 7 brought to NYC for a once-in-a-lifetime backstage glimpse into the fashion industry. At that time, we had no idea that the following summer, we'd be  working in the heart of the brand we've adored for so long. 


Purchases of the day: a giant cookie from our new favorite sweets shop down the street from our dorm (see below and take notice of our friend inside the window), groceries (Lean Cuisines instead of $10 lunches - intern budget), and SHOES (see above)! I purchased my first pair of city shoes - the Berit heel - from the VC SoHo store. I can't wait to debut these unique and comfortable beauties at the wedding of CRISTEN PRICE in 9 DAYS!

Has it only been 3 days?

Three days into my job, Fashion PR may still be rather foreign to my bewildered ears, but I've come to a powerful conclusion: I really like this line of work. 

Yes, I'm an intern. Yes, I run quick errands (extended into more lengthy ones based on my limited knowledge of city navigation). Yes, I do what I'm told - sometimes, with no apparent idea of why I'm doing it. But I'm learning. Walking off the elevator on floor 12A for day 3 of my internship (I'm always greeted with the powerful aroma of leather from the handbag showroom adjacent to my office!), I'm beginning to feel a sense of comfort and curious anticipation as opposed to mere anxiety. 

I still don't have a clear idea of what my responsibilities will be day-to-day, but perhaps that's why I'm drawn to this industry. Each day holds new adventure and none is the same as the one before. 

My Building - 141 W 36th Street

Day 1 - Two Southern Girls Take The City

Day 1 Wake up - 5:45. Drink coffee. Drive to airport. Cry from time mom and I exit off I-95 to time I hug mama goodbye. Cling to Danielle at security. Board plane immediately before gate closes. Make awkward-middle-seat airplane conversation with Mississippian body builder and native, no-nonsense New Yorker. Allow hands to sweat prefusely for 1 hour, 39 minutes. Plane lands. Drink more coffee. 2 rather small girls and a driver named Alfred struggle with 4 bags - a total of 250 pounds of luggage. Smalltalk with the only Christian/Republican taxi driver in the Northeast. Check into NYU dorms. Singlehandedly lug said luggage up 6 stories. Discover air-conditioner in room is broken. Unload 10 weeks worth of sequined/colorful/heavy clothing. Decorate barren bookshelves with handbags and jewelery. Walk to Bleeker Street and eat first meal of the day - at 3:30PM. Walk back toward dorm. Get lost. Rainstorm. Get caught in rainstorm. Lost in rainstorm. Drenched, lost, running in rainstorm. Return to dorm. Brush tangles from hair. Remerge to the streets of Manhattan with ample rain gear in tow - only to greet heavy, hot sunshine. Walk 2 miles to tourist-laden-New York - leaving same-gender-hand-holding and greeting obese loudmouths wearing white Reboks. Shop. Walk. Get lost. Reluctantly ask for directions. Arrive at Grand Central Station. Ask questions at information desk. Walk away and furrow our brows. Ask more questions at Grand Central Station. Leave in route for TJ Maxx. Get lost. Hail cab #1. Get lost. Buy pillows at TJ Maxx. Hail cab #2. Arrive at dorm with aching feet and giggling hearts. Eat dinner. Collapse. Hit the sack - 10:00PM

(below: view from dorm windows; knick-knacks; Danielle chilling in the room)

Welcome to the City

"Wanna know the one thing I've always admired about southerners? They seem to have a pretty good idea of who the hell they are. They have a "phony meter" - they can see right through the so-called sophisticated. You may have a different accent, but you certainly aren't stupid."
- Albert - Lifelong New Yorker and my first taxi driver of the next 70 days

Summer Reading

I'm a digital book phene. In recent years, my kindle and iBooks library have trumped the collection adorning my physical bookshelf. That being said, there is still the occasional novel intended to be read in print form from under the comfort of a wide-brimmed sunhat.

Summer at Tiffany is the true story of author Marjorie Hart's professional stint on East 57th in NYC during the 1940s. This summer, my mom and I will each devour the novel from different ends of the East Coast. We'll stay connected through the experiences of observant Ms. Hart - all the while, praying my time in the Big Apple is equally as thrilling and worthwhile!