Showing posts with label #shoeporn. Show all posts
Showing posts with label #shoeporn. Show all posts

Wednesday, April 8, 2015

HUMP DAY'S HOTTEST ... AND BEYOND!

Hola Love Muffins!

If there's one thing you can bank your last Benjamin on, it's the fact that I obsess over what's hot. Call it my "raison d'être," but I quiver upon discovering standout art, architecture, design, people, quotes, food, fashion, shoes, ANYTHING. Inspiration is wily, so why not feast upon the crème de la social media? (I <3 instant gratification and you should too.)


I'll spare you superfluous chatter and get right to it. Here's a quick rundown of what's trending on the happiest of Hump Days — all favorited, liked, pinned, RT, reblogged, and approved by yours truly. Of course. xo


Is it the anniversary of Andy and Edie, the happy years?
Makes me wanna hang at The Factory ... on Instagram. 

Funny seeing my dream home on Pinterest. 
(Minus my two black Range Rovers, but life isn't always perfect.)

Me, sick of shoes? NEVER ... these Emilio Pucci's 
have captured my heart like no Pinterest pin can. 

Looks like he's trying to seduce us all. Oooo, Mrs. Robinson. 
Gracias Twitter ... or was it Instagram?

Cocktails meet bling — what's more delicious?
Only her Pinterest board knows.

My interior designer's better than yours, and the proof is on Instagram! 

A departure from my usual street chic choices, but 
loving it nonetheless ... or it could be her hair. Via Pinterest.

Instagram's rocking a new brand of rocking horse designed by
Chan Wai Lim. Hmmm, didn't have those back in the Bronx. 

Twitter's in a tizzy over Kristen Stewart being the new face of Chanel.
Me? I just adore the vintage camera and those glasses.

Speaking of Chanel, a Tweet most diehard geishanistas live by. 
"Merci beaucoup," Mme. Chanel ... and Tim Fargo for reminding us.

On that note, this armor's both fabulous AND classy.
Courtesy Pinterest.

Who needs little red Corvettes when this baby's in the driveway? 
Thanks to my Tumblr pal, Affluence de la Vie.

And THIS is how it's done, Twitter bitches! 
(For obvious reasons, I mean that quite literally.) 



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Wednesday, April 1, 2015

SPRING'S SHOE PORN-A-PALOOZA!


It may be April Fool's, but shoes are super serious business. (They are in my book.) When names like Louboutin, Choo, and Blahnik are being bantered about, there's no time for jokes. Shoes can make or break first impressions, relationships, even nations ... remember Imelda Marcos? Exactly.

Almost 2,000 pairs to her name ... 
currently housed in the Imelda Marcos shoe museum.

Even though some parts of the country still haven't thawed, Spring 2015's in full swing. From funky flats, flatforms (flat platforms), leggy lace-ups, and sexy strappery to crazy colors, cage-y gladiators, mod mules, and a nod to western, it's a foot fetishist's paradise. Whew.


Fashionistas fantasize about cavernous walk-ins just for their precious Pradas and Puccis, while men fantasize about watching them walk across the room bare-ass naked in sky-high Brian Atwoods. Doused in candlelight ... champagne chilling ... the sensual strains of Marvin Gaye setting the mood. Baby, it's the stuff pin-up dreams (and, um, hardcore shoe porn) are made of. 

Here's a rundown of Spring's hottest heels this side of Saks. (And don't forget to schedule time for pedicures as you'll want to rock your socks off. Literally. No socks.) May your credit card run amok as much as your dizzying senses when you catch a whiff o' these beauties. Not sure about you, but I love the smell of lamb leather in the morning. 

To quote Marilyn Monroe, "Give a girl the right shoes and she can conquer the world." Get ready for battle, mein liebchens, this season's all about total badassery. And now, some must-have picks that'll make even the chicest hooves howl with sheer shoe-tastic glee.

Gucci'll put some spring in y'er step with these hella hot heels.

Gucci Take Two:
Couldn't decide ... so I bought them both. 

Chanel's flat-abulous take is pure glam.

Kicking some serious ass in Rodarte. 

Donna Summer would toe wrestle you for these Versace-chi 
treasures that harken to the days of Studio 54.

Who wouldn't want to live in a state of total Tom Ford-gasm?

T-strap-tazzary at its best ... sex on heels by Guy Laroche.

All laced up and ready to show ... bitchin' in Balmain. 

Pucci's western-inspired boots will have every cowboy
within a 50-mile radius watchin' y'er two-step.

They defy rhyme and reason, but I'm always
mad for McQueen.

Ground control to Major Som ...
Peter Som's flats are out of this world.

Prada perfection. Mules never looked so good.

More Versace, more mules. More is better.


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Monday, March 24, 2014

GET IN TOUCH WITH YOUR INNER GEISHANISTA!


Dreaming of a personal style so over the top that even 122 carats won't cut it? Do your demands fall flat and keep you from seeing the light of Harry Winston? Is Sears your couturier of choice? (It seriously hurts to write those words, much less read them. Make it stop.) Fabulosity may come from the inside out, but it's the outside everyone judges (particularly other women). It's merely a matter of money.

Don't kid yourselves, head-to-toe beauty can be bought -- many Hollywood A-listers were beyond blah before making bank. Point is, enviable status is there for the taking if you're savvy enough to grab it. How can an average girl amp up her game? Being cutesy, loving, and evolved won't get you anywhere, especially private fitting rooms and a bevy of ass-kissers at Bergdorf's. Cast aside all that wholesome, white bread goodness crap, put on your Big Bitch panties, and listen up.

I've compiled a list of invaluable tips to help you get in touch with your inner "geishanista" because it's all about attitude more than anything else. We understand the importance of first impressions, so why not make each one utterly glam-tastic?

1. Start with the basics and learn your A, B, C, D's -- Atelier Versace, Balmain, Christian Dior, Dolce Gabbana, and so on. Say them out loud as if you gauged someone's eyes out for a front row seat at fashion week. Brush up on Couture 101, mein liebchens. You don't want a pop quiz taking you by surprise while looking like the people of Walmart, do you? (FYI, the answer is "NO.")


2. Eliminate the word "cheap" from your vocabulary. Even if your entire wardrobe comes from the bargain bin, you MUST pretend otherwise. (Cheap NEVER looks luxe, and that's the entire point of this article.) So until you've burned every last half-off schmatta, work on perfecting the facade. It's easy -- everyone in L.A. does. Buy one pricey piece and make it the focus of every single conversation so others start believing (if only because you've painfully shoved it down their throats) that you're an honest-to-goodness, real-life label whore.


3. Laugh out loud at every garish fashion faux pas -- as they pass by on the street. (Did I mention loudly? It's way too much fun ... pointing works too.) This will thwart your chances of becoming the wear-every-wacky-tacky-fad-at-once fashion victim and having others laugh at YOU.


4. Obsess over shoes ... especially when window shopping with promises of woo-woo in the air. This is a biggie. (Read "Foot Fetish ... Moi?") Anything bearing the Choo, Prada, or Louboutin label is a must-have, so just remember to playfully squeeze his hand and say, "Oooo, I have garters that match those perfectly!" Follow it with a wistful sigh and, "Oh well, wish I didn't love playing dress-up so much." BTW, here's a new mantra for all my sneaker-loving ladies -- the higher the heels, the closer to Gucci. (Which, in my case, is a deity.)


5. Always smell good ... and by good, I really mean anything that's a step up from dime store cologne. Think expensive and he'll treat you that way. Not that Hermes or Clive Christian tops your list, but splurging on something a bit more extravagant prevents you from reeking like an 80-year-old who got frisky with air freshener. Believe me, a memorable scent enhances your intrigue which, in turn, enhances your offshore account. Spritz away!


6. It don't mean a thing if he won't bring the bling. It's true. Plus, a diamond or two adds sufficient sparkle to anyone's day. Subtly let him know which jewelry was gifted from a hunky ex-boyfriend and watch him scurry off to Tiffany's to prove his rocks are bigger. Reward and repeat. (Perhaps I've stumbled onto the true meaning of the term "getting your rocks off"?)


7. While we're on the topic ... all that glitters BETTER BE REAL. Yup, diamonds are only a girl's best friend (and hence, you his) if they're not cubic zirconias in disguise. Go on, get that appraisal pronto. It will confirm your value in his eyes so you can ...


8. Date LOTS of daddies! A true geishanista can never have enough (you should see my closets), and sometimes that means double or even triple-dippin' on the joysticks. Just make sure Sugar Papi abides by the rules -- without his bank, you can't dress up. It's all about Saks an' sake bombs, bitches.


9. Introduce caviar, truffles, and other ridiculously pricey foods into your diet. Do your homework on the seductive powers of Foie Gras and give Mr. Big bonus points for feeding it to you while on a romantic weekend getaway in gay Paris (or Belize).


10. Brush your teeth with Dom, as in Perignon. Not only will folks think you're batshit cray-cray, but you'll be doing your part in helping with the drought, you little eco-friendly boo. Champagne baths border on badass as well -- throw in a few floating fruits, like strawberries, and you and your twisted mister are good to go.


11. Be the party girl. Ditch anything even remotely reminiscent of a Velma turtleneck, don some come-f*ck-me pumps, and hooch it up. Of course there's a reason for this temporary insanity, silly muffin -- you want him to want every other man to wish THEY could hit it. Talk about stroking egos. Eye candy's dandy, but payback like this is priceless. (Ok, it's akin to skyrocketing stock.) Re-read tips four through eight please. I size 0 ... in case you want to get me thank-you gift. (Size 2 simply sounded better in the song.)


12. Speaking of dressing up, DO IT -- even when you're home with the flu (or just your cat.) You never know who'll drop by with gourmet chicken soup from Dean & DeLuca and, perhaps, a shiny new bauble to make baby feel better. There, there, suck it up and spackle concealer under your nose. You gotta look damn glam blowing your honker.


13. Swinging-from-the-chandeliers sex hooks'em every time. Especially the shy, short, quiet, insecure, balding, and overweight ones. They've never had it so good, so anything even remotely Dita von Teese-ish will work. Let all hell break loose in a leather bustier and you might even give him a coronary (j/k), which translates into anything your devious little heart desires.


14. It is most definitely all about size -- size of his bank account, size of the diamonds, size of the square footage in your new Holmby Hills pad. Forget motion of the ocean and think weekly bank transfers in your name so you can live in the manner to which I'm helping you create. Jeez, aren't you lucky to have me around? (FYI, the answer is "YES.")


As Madonna once said, "People are afraid to say what they want. That's why they don't get what they want." Snap out of it and start flapping those yap holes. You'll thank bouzhee little me faster than you can sing, "Everybody's doin' it, everybody's doin' it!" xo




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Friday, March 7, 2014

FOOT FETISH ... MOI?!



Since it's my beloved "TGI Foot Fetish Friday," I have a filthy little secret to confess. (I'm really a pasty white girl and not Asian at all? Why screw with your bewilderment? It's waaay too much fun.)

Here goes. I'm head over heels over ... heels. Like kryptonite. Yes, you heard correctly and it's totally true — shoes are my crack, smack, and whack all in one. (Is whack even slang for a drug? No matter, falling in love with a new Italian designer is like someone whacking me upside the head. Same thing.) Talk about a contact high. The second those puppies hit my puppies, a euphoria rushes over my body like none other. Move over Mary Jane, there's a new Mary Jane in town.

Wait, there's more. Hard as it is for me to divulge, I actually, hear me out, quiver at the mere sight of come-f'ck-me black patent ... and don't even get me started on kid suede. Two words: multiple glam-gasms. (For days). Oh my. So it makes perfect sense why I'm totally hooked on men hooked on my feet — especially when clad in strappy little numbers that reveal a sufficiently sexy amount of toe cleavage. Trust me love muffins, they're ALL into my feet. (And my rockstar pedicure.) Ancient Chinese secret or TMI from pasty white? Nope, just merely stating the facts. Whoever invented the term "shoe porn" was the Einstein of what really renders a woman powerless. Is there a Nobel Prize for that kind of brilliance? ('Cuz he/she earned it. In spades. Make that Kate Spades.)

This delicious level of dependence can't be rehabilitated through hypnosis, shock treatment (OMFG, they don't have my size!), or even the most rigorous 12-step program. Imagine standing before a group of poor souls struggling to banish their demons and admitting my insatiable desire for D'Orsay? Thanks but no thanks. Am I worried about spiraling into the depths of overdose-dom? Hell to the no. You can keep your clean living, bitches. As long as I'm sporting the latest Louboutins, I'll be the happiest (and most fashion-forward) junkie to ever buckle up a T-strap. Just watch me.

Since I was a just wee geishanista back in the Bronx, every pump, platform, boot, shootie, flat, flip-flop, slingback, stiletto, wedge or Wellie has held me spellbound. (Even though I despise rain, we must look smashing in it.) My aunties' closets were the absolute Holy Grail — all filled with fabulous shoe collections just waiting for my child-sized feet to explore. I'd be transfixed for hours, parading around in ankle straps, kitten heels, and a motherload of mules. It was endless. Dinner came and went and I never knew. Ferragamos were my food of choice.

In fact, I've been known to lay down a nice chunk o' change on a plethora of peep toes all in one sitting rather than go grocery shopping. (The sales peeps know me by name ... how sweet is that?) I mean, what better ambrosia than a bejeweled Badgley Mischka? What tortellini's more tantalizing than a super-sized serving of Stella McCartney thigh highs? Bring it on. So don't hate me 'cuz I'm skinny ... just blame my love for leather.

During pre-production for GEISHA-MANIA, I was seriously out of control — rows of Roberto Cavallis called my name. Stacks of Giuseppe Zanotti boxes started piling up. At one point there were 30 pairs of shoes — just for a damn three-minute video (not counting my own massive collection, of course). I'd hit rock bottom and my poor stylist was forced to stage an intervention. She failed. I kept buying. It was absolutely glorious.

Problem is, after the final cut was finished, you can't even see the shoes! My darling babies were pretty much pushed clear out of frame and banished into oblivion. I say conspiracy, but director Luciano Fontana claims artistic integrity. I'm sure I'm right, but you know how Sicilians get. I'll give him this round, cause there's always GEISHANISTA GO-GO, my upcoming music video. Wait till you see the kooky kaleidoscope of bling, fashion, fun, and wacky rap. And all-important shoes. So, Mr. Director, we shall see who wins this next battle ... you or the shoes? My money's on the Manolos ... they totally kick ass. xo

See what I mean?




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