So, I Fell in Love With a Man Named Stephen Burrows

I was browsing the Target online clearance section looking for clothes with personality (plain white tees need not apply) and was striking out until a crop of candy-colored garments the likes of which I'd never seen exploded onto the screen. Turns out they were part of one of those special by-designers-just-for-Target lines, and the designer guest star was Stephen Burrows. Having never heard of him, I hopped onto Google to see what he was all about. A visit to his site told me all I needed to know:

"Stephen Burrows is the first African American fashion designer to achieve international acclaim. After graduating from the Fashion Institution of Technology in 1966, Burrows began making clothing for the O Boutique, opposite Max's Kansas City in New York. Stephen's window displays literally stopped traffic, and the young designer was soon besieged with orders. With friend Roz Rubenstein, he launched a ready-to-wear collection for Bonwit Teller in 1969. Later that year Joel Schumacher, Henri Bendel's visual director (now film director), introduced Burrows to Bendel's legendary fashion director Geraldine Stutz, and he was hired on the spot.

Burrows, influenced by music, dance, and the body, produced revolutionary clothing that was soft, comfortable, and chic. His innovative designs, which made use of color and technique, were revolutionary during a time when American fashion was strongly influenced by the European design houses: very structured, heavy, and lined. With the advent of stretch fabrics such as wool and rayon jersey, Burrows crafted a close fit and slim silhouette. He originated a finishing touch -- the "lettuce edge" -- that became a signature and remains in the collection today. His designs became a foundation for signature American style.

Stephen Burrows' World opened at Henri Bendel in 1970 and thrust Burrows into the limelight. It was an immediate success. His client roster included Cher, Diana Ross, Lauren Bacall, Liza Minnelli, Jerry Hall, Lauren Hutton, and Barbara Streisand. The industry took notice, and Burrows was nominated for a Coty Award, fashion's highest honor, in both 1971 and 1972.

In 1973, renowned fashion publicist Eleanor Lambert organized a benefit fashion show at Versailles, France. The show was a collaboration between the United States and France. Participants included the most influential designers of the day -- Pierre Cardin, Christian Dior, Hubert de Givenchy, Yves Saint Laurent, and Emanuel Ungaro representing France; Halston, Oscar de la Renta, Bill Blass, Anne Klein, and Stephen Burrows representing the US. An international sensation, the event brought acclaim to American fashion for the first time. Noted for his extraordinary segment, which introduced color in ways never before seen on the runway, Burrows received rave reviews.

Following this success, Burrows was recognized with Coty Awards in 1973, 1974, and again in 1977. Urged by Halston to set up shop on Seventh Avenue, Stephen soon left Henri Bendel and opened his namesake business, quickly licensing products such as fragrances, sunglasses, and furs.

On February 13, 2002, "Stephen Burrows World" reopened in Henri Bendel with an event dubbed "the party of the season" by Vogue. The collection has been applauded by the New York Times, the American, French and Japanese editions of Vogue, Essence, and New York Magazine, among others. Stephen has been welcomed back to fashion with a star on the CFDA's Fashions Walk of Fame on Seventh Avenue.

2006 marks Stephen Burrow's 40th year as a designer. In June of this year, he was honored with the CFDA's Board of Directors Special Tribute Award. Currently, Stephen Burrows is available at fine stores in the United States, Europe, and the Middle East.

"BURROWS IN PARIS " Stephen Burrows presented his Spring Summer 2007 collection in October of this year as part of the French Fashion Week. Suzy Menkes of The International Herald remarked "He is the Master of matte jersey and colour combinations!"

Pretty fabulous, huh? After reading up, I scrambled back to target.com to order not one but four of the Burrows pieces, including the middle dress in the picture at the top of this post (at 50% off I couldn't help myself). Sure, they were meant to be worn in the summer, but as a self-professed layering queen, I know no such seasonal bounds. In fact, if I like how everything fits, then I plan on revisiting the site to snap up the rest of my favorites.

One of the fun things about shopping Target online is reading the shopper reviews. The response for the Burrows collection was split, with half the shoppers loving the fun, vibrant colors and the other half dismissing the designs as something dreamed up by kindergartners. I sort of dress like a five-year-old, so once I read that I knew I was onto something good.

I'll let you know how it all works out. Not that you won't be seeing them in some future edition of Photo Shoot Friday. :)

Something (Almost) New and Sparkly

Julie Gem Necklace

I strung together this fun, bohemian little Julie Gem Necklace a while back but never got around to posting it on Etsy. I came upon it today when I was photographing myself in some of my necklaces. (All the crafting advice articles I read suggest including pictures of yourself wearing your jewelry on the site where you sell it. I always thought this was hogwash (i.e., I was too lazy to put forth the effort) but have recently been trying to jazz up my site and decided to suck it up and begin the rephotographing process.) Anyhow, the Julie Gem Necklace is now snugly installed with the other ready to ship necklace selections in my Etsy shop. Happy viewing!

Something Fun and Frivolous: Large Terrific Turtle Tote

The Large Terrific Turtle Tote is finally completed! Is it me, or are these getting more detailed? It seemed like I was outlining forever! Nevertheless, I'm really happy with how it turned out. I just listed it in my Etsy shop under Overnight/Beach Totes.

Tonight I sketched the Large Beauty Queen Tote I mentioned in yesterday's post. After popping into Michael's for some lime green fabric paint tomorrow, I'll be ready to begin painting it.

Movie Moment: Plunging into Hot Tub Time Machine

For some reason, I'd been wanting to rent Hot Tub Time Machine. (But then, you probably already knew that if you've been reading.) I choose to blame my impulse on my love of 1980s music (Poison, ironically, excepted despite their portrayal in this movie), 1980s fashion, and stupid comedies of all decades. So, a few nights ago I got it On Demand, my decision half-heartedly sanctioned by the bf, who didn't want to see it but didn't feel compelled to see anything else either. True to form, Hot Tub Time Machine offered up a parade of neon ski wear, legwarmers, and lurid animal prints set to music by INXS, David Bowie, New Order, Talking Heads, and others, all of which I enjoyed. Even so, I was slightly disappointed by this tale of three middle-aged guys (and one twentysomething kid) who revisit the 1980s via a portal channeled by a -- yes -- hot tub. To be honest, I think I was hooked more by the whole wacky hot tub concept than by the big hair and Men Without Hats. There's just something about four drunk guys in a Jacuzzi playing a vital role in the space-time continuum theory . . .

Don't get me wrong. It was funny. Just not as funny as I'd hoped. (I don't blame the movie for this, as the fault lies with my own destructively high expectations.) To me, all the high points featured Nick (The Office's Craig Robinson), a rock star-turned dog groomer who gets pushed around by his wife. I don't think I'm alone in saying that he claims the movie's most memorable line when he utters, in a deeply serious and somewhat befuddled voice just after the time travel kicks in, "It must've been some kind of . . . hot tub time machine," then looks straight at the camera, deadpan. Nick also brings the added bonus of his black tee screen printed with neon pink, yellow, and green combs and -- wait for it -- that staple of all 1980s stylists, hair picks.

I think that about sums up my thoughts.

In other news, I put the finishing touches on my Large Terrific Turtle Tote tonight. I'm doing this new thing where I haul my painting board (built by none other than the bf, designed for an optimum creative and ergonomic working experience) out into the hallway where we have the best light so I can expose and then touch up all the imperfections. Because there are always imperfections, even after the second coat and the outlining have been completed. I hope to have the tote ironed, posted on Etsy, and blogged about here by tomorrow night. Then it will be on to my next project, the Large Beauty Queen Tote, in which lipsticks and hair dryers will do battle with combs and compacts. I'm particularly looking forward to that one.

Jack Handey Quote of the Week

Last Wednesday I posted the final quote from Jack Handey's Deep Thoughts. And I didn't even tell you. But only because I knew I had more Jack stashed somewhere. As luck would have it, last Friday I unearthed Deeper Thoughts from the debris on my nightstand (you know, the one suffocated by old mail and dust that I wrote about clearing a few posts ago).

So, without further ado, here's your weekly dose of wisdom:

"Maybe in order to understand mankind, we have to look at the word itself. Mankind. Basically, it's made up of two separate words - "mank" and "ind." What do these words mean? It's a mystery, and that's why so is mankind."

Who Says You Can't Eat Potato Chips for Dinner?

Certainly not me. In need of comfort food after all of this rain as well as a recipe that wouldn't take too much time (because I had to go grocery shopping after work -- yuck), I pulled out an old favorite from my mom's recipe box: chicken and almonds. The name makes it sound almost wholesome. But if you know me, then you know better. Check out the recipe:

Ingredients:

2 cups boiled chicken
1/2 cup almonds
2 tablespoons chopped celery
2 tablespoons chopped onion
2 teaspoons lemon juice
1 cup mayonnaise
1/2 cup grated American cheese (I had to go low rent with the processed version, as it was all I had, having forgotten to buy the real stuff on my Acme run.)
1 bag potato chips, crushed (The recipe never specified just what size this bag should be. I used about 1/3 of an 11 oz-er.)

Directions:

Combine ingredients in an 11" x 9" casserole dish and bake at 400 degrees for 20 minutes. It doesn't get any easier than that. Unless, of course, you're resuscitating one of those awful boxed casserole things. To be fair, I did mess this dish up once, back when I was still living with my parents. The original recipe called for salt as well as potato chips, and in true lemming fashion I went ahead and added both without considering the horrifically salty consequences. At the time my mom and I attempted to eat it. But that wasn't happening, not even after we tried to dilute it with some Romaine. My mom asked what had happened, and I said, "I just followed your recipe!" She seemed to think this was funny, saying something like, "Oh, no one actually adds the salt." Needless to say, when I copied the recipe down for my own, I left that part out.

Chicken with Almonds in its unadulterated, full casserole form.

And here nicely plated with a crisp salad and some creamy avocado chunks. The bf doesn't like avocados, which meant more for me. :)

Movie Moment: (Surfing) The Social Network

When I first heard about the movie The Social Network, I was interested. I hadn't known that a Harvard undergrad was the mastermind behind Facebook, or that he hatched the whole thing while I myself was in college. I wanted to know what kind of person this guy was, and why he was motivated to create such a Web site. Which is a little curious in and of itself seeing as I'm not the biggest Facebook fan (despite the fact that I'm on it). So, this afternoon, my mother, sister, and I went to see The Social Network. The theater was packed with people of all ages, which surprised me (somehow I expected to see mainly twentysomethings).

I should begin by saying that the entire story is told as a fragmented flashback. That is, in the beginning we find out that Mark Zuckerberg (played by Jesse Eisenberg) is being sued by his best friend and a couple of big man on campus types for creating Facebook. The back story begins with Mark and his girlfriend hanging out in a classically dark and depressing looking college town bar. Mark is telling his girlfriend how badly he wants to be accepted into the Phoenix or the Porcellian, two exclusive intellectual Harvard social clubs. He drones on incessantly in a voice not unlike a robot's, ignoring his girlfriend's attempts to guide his monologue into a conversation. The scene clearly establishes Mark as an intellectually superior but socially inept computer nerd who seems to have no feelings (as opposed to the more common stock character of the sensitive, lovable nerd). Predictably, his girlfriend dumps him, and he retreats to his room to get drunk and spill his post-breakup vitriol into his blog. Spurred further by alcohol and bitterness, he goes on to hack into Harvard's server data to create an online game in which guys can rate girls' hotness factors (a pursuit slightly less demeaning than comparing girls to farm animals, which was the game he initially devised). The Web site is a huge success, gaining unheard of hits overnight. The next day Mark is approached by a pair of trust fund case twins (the aforesaid big men on campus) who want him to develop their pet project, an unsophisticated social networking Web site called Harvard Connect. Mark agrees, then avoids them for the next month or so to develop his own Web site: The Facebook (an endeavor which does not involve using Harvard Connect code). The brainchild is Mark's, but the start-up money and financial savvy belong to his best (and only) friend, Eduardo. The way Mark sees it, people are even more interested in finding out stuff about people they know than they are in finding out stuff about celebrities. More particularly, guys want to know if certain girls have boyfriends without having to make fools of themselves, and The Facebook facilitates garnering such information. Apparently, Mark's one of those geniuses who knows how to capitalize on what people want despite being the world's worst people person. Meanwhile, Eduardo has been invited to pledge the hallowed Phoenix club, a fact that exacerbates Mark's sour grapes, causing him to quip, "You'll never get in." (In this, Mark turns out to be wrong.)

What happens next is kind of anticlimactic. As The Facebook (the "the" isn't dropped until later) gains popularity, Mark and Eduardo begin to argue about the direction of the project. Eduardo wants to host ads to generate revenue, but Mark doesn't, reasoning that doing so too soon would compromise the integrity of the site. Then Napster creator Sean Parker (Justin Timberlake -- who else?) gets involved, and things begin to escalate before the inevitable plummet. Interestingly, Mark isn't in Facebook to make money. He's more invested in hosting a party that everyone wants to go to, with certain hopefuls being "shut out" via rejected friend requests (similar to the way in which he was shut out from those exclusive clubs, although he never puts this into words). To be sure, Sean agrees that launching ads before it's time is like throwing the coolest party of the year and then sending everyone home at 11:00. In one of the movie's most compelling lines, Mark says to Eduardo, "You want to shut the party down!" (Just for the record, I think the most compelling line is uttered by Eduardo as he heads out to the Facebook offices by Mark's invitation. It went something like this: "I didn't know if I'd been invited to the meeting or the party, so I dressed for both." Random, I know, but it seemed markedly funny to me in a deadpan way set against the movie's otherwise humorless backdrop.)

As a thinker and fellow creative type, I respected Mark's vision and his commitment to his project. He'd dreamed up something big, and in his own weird way, he was true to it. But he wasn't a very nice guy, and on more human grounds I didn't like him at all. Not the way he trashed his ex-girlfriend online or the way he took $19K of his best friend's money for start-up fees and then cheated him out of his shares (on the very night when poor hapless Eduardo was wondering if he'd been invited to California to crunch numbers or party down). Movies in which you can't root for the main character are always difficult to enjoy, and The Social Network was no exception. It was informative and engaging in an academic sort of way. But it was in no way the kind of stirring human drama I'd anticipated. I'd been ready for Internet-bred social upheaval (in "You wrote what about me on Facebook?!" fashion) and a classic little guy against big, bad corporate (or in this case, academic) America tale. What I got was a dry documentary headlined by a misanthrope in a hoodie.