The sound of silence (almost)

Some people really do not get excited about travelling. To be honest, I find it to be some of my most relaxing time. Currently, She Who Loves Shoes (wearing silver ballet flats) is honking in a most ungracious manner an onion bagel (toasted, with butter) in the lounge at San Francisco Airport. Its also 5.44am. That's the less fun part. However, it really is delightfully calm in here. H&L is next to me reading the NY Times, I have enough gossip magazines to keep me going for at least half an hour. Heaven. Apart from the noisy businessman bellowing into his cellphone (there's always one) - all is quiet.

Airports are funny places. I tend to become quite introspective in them. In a place where everyone is going somewhere, it somehow allows me time to think. Most probably because when you're surrounded by families - it gets you thinking of your own, seeing people going on vacation - reminds of yours from years long ago, or watching businessmen wanting to get home - again, reminds you of family.

Today I am en route to one of my favourite places, with someone I care about very much, to see people I also care about very much. Perhaps that's why the airport makes me reflect, I remember where I've been there before and with whom. Top of the list in the memory-lane-airport-game was a interesting journey on the Skylink train at Dallas Forth-Worth with a stuffed cuddly monkey and H&L after several Bloody Marys at 1oam.

Today, nothing so eventful - for now, I'll simply enjoy the calm, it really is just fabulous. Sadly no stuffed cuddly monkeys, and its a bit early for a Bloody Mary.

Wild West

She Who Love Shoes is having a culture shock. More than Downtown-Uptown or North or South of the River differences. As Victoria Beckham would say, this is Major. I am on the West Coast. And its a leeeetle different out here. Nice, but most definitely different. Reasons for spending the holidays more than 500m from Bergdorfs or Selfridges include a very Hairy and Lovely boyfriend, and a whole bunch of family in LA.

So - toting my oversized sunglasses (even when Nicole is done with then, I'll always wear them) I take a flight to LA. H&L and I have discussed the merits of visiting SF vs. LA in great detail, and concluded that we'd take a cut in temperature over living Entertainment Weekly for real. Having said that, sitting out with wine and cheese at 3pm on Christmas Day in 75 and sunny certainly had its upsides.

So, Santa was kind and left Coach and Tiffany.... She Who Loves Shoes was quite simply just happy as a L.A.M.B. with her family and H&L. This year, West was Best.

Bikinis and mulled wine.

Jetting off for sun trips in winter is beauty regime intensive. Well in the grand scheme of things its not hard - keeping hair looking fabulous in drizzle is hard, maintaining a suntan in November is hard, but then it gets a little cyclical as the jetting off for trips to the sun in the winter takes care of both of the above two points.

The thing about jetting off to the sun in winter is that, besides the discovery of 6 extra pounds since August, you're all geared up for tights, and wool and leather. A quick fashion mind-flip is needed to remind you of the tall open toes, jumpsuits and the extensive exfoliation required to show the amazingly shimmeringly bronzed legs - the work required to get them there in November is another story altogether. Its all about make believe until you get there - it seems fraudulent buying Uggs to wear with mini skirts sans tights in November, but oh so necessary - perfect crossover wear for Heathrow, plane, sun....

So - the hard work, isn't really hard work at all - in fact, She Who Loves Shoes loves it, just a headwrap doing it when the past couple of months have been all about gearing up to be a snowbunny.

NB - this jetting to the sun in winter conundrum is common to both NY girl going to St Barths and London girl going to SA, but the only true pro at Sun vs Snow Flipping is CA girl - but London and NYC are short of a conveniently located desert climate with some snowcapped mountains thrown in order to become well versed in the art....

Obviously the solution is more tropical holidays between now and March to perfect technique.

Getting over Summer

It is that time of year again. The leaves are falling - and girls everywhere - feel the need to buck the falling temperatures, in denial over their fading summer tans, and ready to conquer the end of Flip Flop Season (or No Socks Ballets Season) by, turning the shade of the aforementioned falling leaves.

Its Fall Fake Tan Season. And I'm falling big time for it. There is something pretty satisfying about waltzing out the door, bundled in the latest cashmere slash cashmerey-lamb-blend tunic dress, with the thick tights, the baggy long scarf, and a tan that quite frankly belongs either in San Tropez or San Moritz.

Somehow, it just makes the having to wear a big warm coat over your finest evening slink a little more bearable.

London Girl

Its nearly 6pm on a Friday night here in London. Its a cold grey October day, the leaves are falling and the street lamps are beginning to be switched on. My tiny, shoebox apartment is cosy. I type on a Mac (the white one, not the silver). Music is playing, and all in all - its a very unusual Friday night. Normally at this time, London Girl would be found in a bar after work - laughing with colleagues, drinking a Napa full of white wine, and not caring too much about the effects of the day on her hair or makeup.

We work hard, and Friday evening drinks after a week at the office are where we are at our most relaxed, that first G&T slips down and the smiles start... The fact is, most London After Work Bars are pretty scuzzy. I bucked and brayed against trading up my Manhattan cocktail bars and black dresses for £12 bottles of wine in places in London with sticky tables... You know, it works though, because the cocktail bars in in NYC are the equivalent of the After Work Bar in London - the reason being, bars in NYC are not the same as bars in London.

I am late - as ever, and have to go - make myself look fabulous, its Friday night after all.

She Who Loves Shoes

99 cents coffee

Its my favourite type of coffee. Actually, its usually the $1.25 coffee as to get going in the morning I need a mini vat of Joe. I used to live in Manhattan - and now in London. This blog is about life in both, for a girl who loves coffee, runs late, who is torn between looking pretty damn hot (with the shoes and bronzer) and then simply terrible (without the coffee and not having time to blow dry her hair).

I hope you smile reading this, and that you identify with some of the thoughts in this blog. Its hard being fabulous all the time in these two extremely fabulous cities, especially when you finally figured one out (London), move to the other one (NYC) and, by a painful process of extensive waxing and trading beer for martinis - you become a grade A native, only to move back to the other (London) and be back at square one again....

This blog is for all the great gals making it in these two great cities - may you smile each morning as you run to work grabbing your coffee.

She Who Loves Shoes