Shop: Whatever you do, don't buy these pants.

I peeked into Black Friday sales this weekend. Online. Because no handbag/denim/stiletto heel is worth live and in-person pushing through sweaty mall shoppers still smelling of pumpkin pie and turkey gizzards.

And on Intermix's website, I found these pants. If there is one thing I'd like to implore you not to buy this holiday season...or ever...it is these pants.

These Elise Øverland Metallic Stretch Pants Were: $1,495.00 and are Now: $1,049.00.

The item description reads as follows...

The ultimate in slim pant/leggings chic. These skinny beauties from EO are styled in heavy knit with pieced knees, and are completely overlaid with a coat of matte gunmetal metallic. The black backing does peek through somewhat here and there. The waist is 1 1/2" of heavy black ribbing and they have a side zipper. Unlined. In silver, which is really a more muted gunmetal.

a. I don't care how 'ultimate' these pants are. Unless these pants are overlaid with 24 k gold, anything over $100 is retail robbery.

b.Does a price reduction qualify as a sale if the cost of the leggings are still over a grand?

c. Does designer Elise Øverland know that American Apparel sells these same pants for $49?

NY - Day 1: Long Island. A cultural abyss.

I arrived to NY last night. When most people think of New York, they think of bright lights, a big city, and party people up all night. This is not the New York I grew up in. This is not the New York I arrived to last night.

My day today was spent driving from one Long Island mall to another Long Island mall. The only obvious difference between the two malls was that one was for slightly older, wealthier people with bad taste (Saks, Bloomingdale's, a food court) and the other was for younger, broker kids with bad taste (Justice, Rave Girl, a food court).

Here are my shots from the day's journey...


This is me. In the parking lot of mall one. Next to a large truck I fancied.


This is me. Sitting with a giant stuffed gorilla. The gorilla had something to do with a mall kiosk. That apparently, according to the gorilla's shirt, was selling equity?

This is me, taking a break in the mall from the Island accents and the smell of Aunt Annie's pretzels and the Abercrombie mall rats with a $1 massage chair.

This is me, taking a tip from Jesus, who--according to this sign--suggests 'com[ing] apart and rest[ing] a while.'

Fingers crossed that tomorrow holds the same promise for excitement.

Highlights from New York: The Hudson Hotel, Sweat Shoppes, and Virgin America

I went to New York last week. These were the highlights of four and a half days on the other coast...

* I flew Virgin America for the first time. Overrated, but inexpensive. And we like inexpensive. We also like touch screen snack menus.

* The terminal waiting area provided for some interesting people watching. For instance...

These two men were obviously interested in chatting. Their stances say 'I want to talk to you. Talking will probably make this wait time go faster. But let's leave these two seats between us. I can barely hear you from here. So speak up. But please don't lean in too close as we might appear too close. And that is one step away from gay.'

This blonde woman was very excited to see her friend (not pictured). She tried for minutes to move her face in such a way that would express this sentiment before relinquishing to the fact that she could no longer smile due to excessive cosmetic surgery.

* I stayed at the Hudson Hotel. The single room I slept in may very well be the smallest hotel room known to the Western hemisphere. But for $140 a night, I would have shared a cardboard box with an escaped convict. The room was cheap, so I won't complain that the hallway on the 14th floor smelled like sweat. I'll just mention it briefly. The hallway sort of smelled like a locker room. Everything else was lovely. Seriously. I'd stay here again in a heartbeat.

* I stopped by Topshop's much-buzzed about new store in Soho. The multilevel boutique, full of youthful fashions and neon wares, felt like the lovechild of H&M and the 80s. Some luster was definitely lost at seeing the shop in person. But I was excited to find a lower-priced line from denim brand Radcliffe.

* I saw young, drunk love on the subway train.

* I visited my mother in Long Island where the mall boasts stores with original and descriptive names like 'Sweats & Jeans,' and knife demos happen on the hour at Sears.

"New York is the dirtiest, largest, ugliest, broken-down city in the world--but it's the only one."
- Isaac Stern

Life in clubLAnd: H.wood

When you're no longer surprised to see girls in tutus, DJs in pom-poms and grown men sporting arts and crafts, have you been in LA too long or just long enough?

Last night, my good pals--Dina and Elana--and I braved a night on the town. We stopped by H.wood [formerly (and briefly) Stork Lounge, even more formerly who knows what at the back of Hollywood & Highland]. If entering a posh club through a shopping mall seems strange...it is. Though once inside the venue's gate, I felt part of a dark, loungey atmosphere--well, going in and out, all I could think of was how great it would be to find an open Wetzel's Pretzels.

Last night's party, hosted by Posso the DJ (one half pictured below), celebrated the birthday of Daisy O'Dell and claimed inspiration from the Dada movement. Ok, we'll buy it.

Beside seeing some long lost LA cohorts (Rich Royal, Foundtrack's V, half the staff from Chateau Marmont, etcetera, etcetera), some of the evening's visual highlights included crafting...

Girls in leotards (thank you Elana for posing so I could discreetly get this shot)...

Balloon monkeys...

And the Carl's Junior fries picked up on the way home.

Also of note was the Crayola chalk on display as part of H.wood's free-spirited cirque theme. I am so sorry to the Hollywood & Highland staff for any damages I may [or may not] have done on the way out. Again...there are dangers to placing a club inside the mall.

Dawn at the Beverly Center.

Having been bamboozled by the false store times on the website of the Beverly Center, I've been here since 9:15 am looking at gate after closed gate of stores which I expected open. At the risk of seeming like an early morning mall walker, I've ceased my wandering the floors of the vacant mall and am now enjoying a pumpkin ice blended at Coffee Bean--the only retailer in this monstrosity of an LA institution with any integrity it would seem.

But as I sit here sipping on sugary ice, I'm perusing the wall of names of those who've donated to some cause or another at the Coffee Bean counter...and I've noticed something even more frightening than mall walkers...the names of children these days--well, they're just dreadful. Whether it's made up names like Apple and Sonic, or total mispellings of classics like Jesika, our name bank's gone to shit.

Amongst the atrocities on Coffee Bean's wall this morning...

Mishel
Izic
Loreal (seriously-did you really name her after your store-bought mascara?)
Meylnda
Yummy Yurry (I hope to God this one's a fake)
Sherly
Kyrie
Arezoo

Come on folks-if we're that concerned about our children's individuality, why not return to old classics like Bertha and Maude? Let's not torture our children any more with names of fruit and fictitious spellings.

Here's to hoping that Bloomingdale's opens its G.D. doors before I get a Sharpie out to start amending these poor kids' stickers.

Multiple reasons to hate the mall. At the holidays and all year round.

The mall, more specifically the Beverly Center, is pretty bad on a daily basis. Amongst the reasons I'm not a fan:

The headless mannequins (pictured left).

The more 'mature' ladies in the shoe department shopping for inappropriately high heels. Parading around in mini skirts and asking their friends, 'do these look alright on me?' Well no, deary, they don't! Perhaps we'd all be better off if you'd visit the orthopedic shoe store on level one and ask your tailor to add 10 inches back to that skirt.

The couples who hold hands on the escalators making it impossible to pass by.

And the countless employees in the department stores asking if I'd like to 'try the best cologne in the world.' No, I've already stocked up on my Jessica Simpson scent for 2009, thank you.

But during the holidays, the place becomes--simply put--unbearable. I entered the Beverly Center yesterday to find this picture of holiday unholiness (pictured left) outside of Macy's. That's right. One of Santa's stilettoed sluts wearing next to nothing chatting up little children. Imagine--this little boy will grow up to think it's ok to sit in a nearly naked lady's lap and ask her for 'presents.' Would you let your child talk with this lady? (If the answer is yes, it's probably best not to tell me.)

Worst of all, a young lady had a baby chihuahua on the floor of the crowded mall. A. You are not supposed to have young puppies out and about. B. If something's smaller than a purse and not attached to a body, I may just step on it. C. She let it pee on the floor! Seriously!? Just because it's cute, doesn't mean I want to step in it's urine while I'm on my way to Bloomingdale's.

Looking for a more tolerable shopping experience this holiday season? I suggest taking the trip to the Brentwood Country Mart. It's quaint, it's outdoors and it smells like the Amish Country. And rich people. And most impressively, it's got Los Angeles' only City Bakery, serving the best hot chocolate there is.



Best of luck on your shopping experiences this December.

Holiday cheers,
Jessie