The Visa Diaries

Ok, here’s something that was bought for me for xmas, that goes straight into the “aww, aren’t Dad’s the best??!” category. Turns out my Dad is a regular reader of the Visa Diaries. Strange for a man who barely knows a shop from a broom closet, and would probably rather spend time in the latter given the choice between the two. So I chalk up his readership to fatherly interest, and am grateful. How brilliant then, to tear open a package on Christmas morning and find a gift set from Origins, makers of my favorite, touted-on-this-very-blog, Magic Mushroom face serum??

There are two things that really touch me about this gift. The first is, of course, my father’s interest and faithful readership, especially given the fact that he used to be rather worried by my precocious shopping skills, and fear that he had spawned a Consumerist She-devil rather than a Good Daughter. I specifically remember one time in high school when my parents were considering buying a second family car, that would primarily be shared by my brother and I. The choices were a Ford Focus or a Mazda 3. Now, both of these cars are perfectly acceptable, zippy little things about town today, but in those days, the Focus was about as plush as a Campbell’s soup can on skateboard wheels. I was mortified at the thought of appearing at high school in such a tinny ride, and put up a big fuss in favor of the Mazda (still not plush, but somehow more acceptable). And I remember the talking-to I got from my father about that fuss, about my lack of appreciation for getting to have a car at all, and worst of all, my lack of moral fiber for caring so deeply about the image-implications of the car. He was deeply distressed, and so was I, caught between the disapproval of Dad, and the horrifying prospect of being seen driving a Ford Focus! Now that is all water long under the bridge, but still you can understand, all these years later, when the same man said, “You really are a good shopper,” referring to all the lovely and appropriate things I had gifted to my relatives, it all brought a tear to my eye.

The second terribly touching thing about the gift is that he gave me the whole gift set including Dr Weils’ whole line for Origins. This happened for two reasons: not being a regular shopper, he was unprepared for the whole line-extension marketing concept, and didn’t know which of the 5 Dr. Weil products was the one I used. And second, the saleslady got a hold of him, and convinced him that with the gift set he was actually saving bundles of money. I can just imagine one of those faux-sympathetic, vulture-in-diguise, cosmetic salesladies with my poor father in her clutches. Bless!

Anyway, I am very excited to try out all of the products in conjunction, and anticipate being the owner of a visage so glowing, Santa will ask me to drive his sleigh next Christmas. Thanks Dad!

As I mentioned, last weekend I saw my friends Mara and Adam from San Francisco. Mara is one of my favorite people on the planet, and she was lucky enough to find someone worthy of her in Adam, who besides being a tall, gorgeous, intelligent, ex-Olympic sailor, is also the founder of cleaning product company Method. Method has been one of those wonder brand revolutions in a product category that everybody thought was exhausted. About five years ago, Adam and his partner Eric took a look around and thought, “I can get designer lifestyle clothing, designer lifestyle sheets, designer lifestyle coffee, for my young- urban- designer- lifestyled- ass… Why then can I not get designer cleaning products??” and voila, Method was born. Five years later, their Karim Rashid packaged, cucumber scented, Target distributed, designer cleaning line is a clean-up (haha) success.

Now, I’m going to tell a dirty little secret (and Method are “People Against Dirty”…): much as I love Mara and Adam, I had never bought a Method product! Granted, I was out of the country for several of the years of their ascent (they are only just starting to be carried in the UK), but really – what kind of friend am I??! After seeing them again this weekend, I realized that was an absolutely untenable position, and I ran out to Target as soon as possible. I was totally enamored of their ylang-ylang shower spray, not only because I love saying “ylang-ylang”, but also because it claims you never have to scrub your tiles again – really?? sign me up!

I’m sure all their products are great, and I intend to try them all, but here is my number one Method tip: the scented candles. As I was looking at some $35 candles in a boutique in NYC, Adam sidled up and informed me that Method candles are not only way better value, but also better candles, because they are soy so they burn cleaner. Amazingly they cost on $5.99 – madness! After smelling all the flavors, I settled on Mint & Eucalyptus, which is modern and light and lovely. OK, Diptyque these candles are not quite, but neither are they $50. At $6 a pop, I can have a whole forrest of these twinkling away 24/7… er, which I have been since getting them. My apartment now feels like and enchanted, minty-lyptus fairy garden. Now, my only question is, when does the Method-sponsored masseuse show up?

So, I *finally* did some Christmas shopping. One for them, one for me. One for them, one for me. That’s how it goes, right?

I did start out altruistically enough, this past Saturday, when I made a quick trip into New York to kick off the Christmas shopping season. (I loved that my train, an extra one added to the schedule by Metro-North, was even called “The Shoppers’ Special”). I was meeting up with two of my dearly beloved San Franciscan friends, Mara and Adam, who had also taken the equivalent of a “Shoppers’ Special” all the way across the country (although I’m not sure United was savvy enough to call it that). Of course we chose the busiest place on the whole entire planet to meet: the corner of Broadway and Prince, in front of Dean & Deluca, on a Saturday afternoon just 9 days before Christmas. Insanity. It took a while to worm our way out of there, but then our first stop was the MOMA Design Store, where I bought several cool toys for my niece and nephew. I even managed to put away the set of Eames building cards that *I* really wanted, and buy the funky car kit that I think my nephew will actually prefer. Now that is the ultimate restraint when one is gift-buying.

Feeling high from my bout of generosity, all good intentions of course went out the window from there. I’ll spare you the details (let’s just say, the card limit is not maxed out, so that’s something, but nor did I manage to tick off anybody else on my list… sigh) and just tell you about my gem purchase:

these divine, peacock-teal, suede heels from Sigerson Morrison. I’m sure I do not need to introduce Sigerson Morrison to you, that staple provider of pretty, just-so cladding for the downtown foot. This particular shoe was truly too perfect to pass by. First it was the color, this vivid, unusual peacock blue. Then the heel – just high enough to feel like you are wearing heels, but not too high to be uncomfortable or overbearing (at 5′9″ I have to cap my heels at a certain height andyway). And finally, the style: an innocent round toe, belied by a low-cut side and strap around the ankle. A knowing ingenue, is there a more provocative combo?

I am wearing my new pumps as I write this, and I can just feel the words flowing more easily, my fingers tapping more saucily. And if they can put the spice into typing, then just imagine what they can do for a night out on the town…

I am about to start on my xmas shopping, so watch this space for bigger items soon, but first I wanted to quickly muse on the random beauty of the late-night Walgreens run. I am lucky enough to live right next to a 24-hour Walgreens, one of the only things that does stay open all night in this town. This past Wednesday, after my big critique, and after the multiple sleepless nights leading up to it, and a lot of pizza and beer to celebrate with classmates, I found myself hitting the WG with my friend Bethany on our way home.

Somehow through my stupor, a profound appreciation for Walgreen welled up in my heart. Where else can you get protein bars with your cold medicine, cheesy christmas decorations with your toilet paper with your blank CDs? I love the way Walgreens has *everything* from food to electronics, to cleaning supplies to office supplies to drugs. I love how it is all bathed on terrible fluorescent light, and is all terrible beige peg-board shelving and mottled white linoleum. I sort of even love that there is always a drug addict plaintively asking for change outside the door, and a couple of jaded bored salespeople inside, and how when the line gets really long they make an announcement telling you the cosmetics counter is open. I love how they give you cash back, any amount even if you only buy a $.99 pack of gum, and how they sell drug panaceas for all sorts on ailments that are unmentionable in good company – just about one of the only places where you can let it all hang out, be broken. I love their hideous script typeface logo, that they have decided to modernize by rendering in blue and red neon. I love Walgreens because it is so utilitarian (and not in that trendy Home Depot way) so practical, so bell-and-whistle free, yet they always have everything. I love walking out with orange zest kitchen cleaner in the same bag with my Edy’s Toll-House cookie dough ice cream and a new pair of Tweezerman tweezers, and that its next door and open all the time.

Sometimes convenience without pretension is so comforting.

My final crit of the semester is next wednesday, which is why things have perhaps been little quiet on the ol’ Visa Diaries – too much graphic design and not enough shopping time! … did that rhyme? any-hoo… The things I have been buying recently are all thrilling components of various projects that I am working on. These include: a new hard drive, two cans of spray chalk (blue and fluorescent orange), white stick-on labels in various sizes, lamination, photo paper, a book about Samizdat (contraband zines in the Soviet Union)… and, um, let’s see, lots of coffee, unhealthy snacks like muffins, and Zicam (do you know about Zicam? – the best cold remedy I have ever tried. Absolutely go out and get some at the first hint of a sniffle) to try to keep myself from getting sick… and unfortunately, that’s about it! The art-school nerd has kidnapped the Visa Diarist and chained her to a computer. However, after next Wednesday, Christmas shopping starts, so I predict that she will re-emerge with a vengeance. Until then, then!

I just realized the other day that I have been terribly remiss! I have not told you about what is both my favorite handbag maker, and also a potentially semi-secret, that has not totally broken the mainstream. They are called… come closer, so you can hear me… Hayden Harnett. Go have a look, their bags are divine.

I have two. I almost never repeat purchases like that! My MBTs, that Origins face potion, of which I just bought another bottle, and now Hayden Harnett bags. I must be getting less fickle than in my younger years, finding products that work, and sticking with them.

Gosh, there just isn’t a whole long anecdote nor a deep analysis that goes along with these bags. They are just gorgeous and well made. The first one, the heavenly, buttery, orange-sherberty Havana Hobo bag I encountered in a boutique in Nolita last spring. In one of the moments when blind passion gets the better of you, and all of your (well, my anyway) better judgement about what the handbag budget of a student should be just flies out the window. I toted it with me all summer around London, and although it is a slouchy hobo bag as thus is somewhat trendy at the mo’, it SO stood head and shoulders above all the other hobo bags around that it might as well have been a different breed. The benefit of having spent, erm, invested wisely in that handbag was that the rest of my outfit could have been H&M finds and I could have passed it off for Chloe, because we all know that bags and shoes make the outfit.

The second one I got this fall, after my classmate Rob, made a comment something like, “Kate, its way after Labor Day – isn’t it about time you retired that sherbert orange bag??” with all the snideness of a gay fashion editor, despite that fact that he does sleep with women. I must admit I do not love the Anna frame bag as much as the Havana Hobo, but then, that would be impossible. By all normal standards, the Anna is a gem.

So, there you have it. No deep thoughts on the signification of the shapes, the social implications of the studs, or the ethical ethical considerations of the leather. When passion takes over, the rational mind cannot stop to analyze such things. Enjoy!