It was the worst of times..." as written by the immortal Charles Dickens in A Tale of Two Cities.
Yes indeed, what a week. First up, the best of times. In this gloomy real estate economy we found that we could either help the Fashionista rent a studio apartment for $700+ a month or we could buy a 2 bedroom condo for a bit less and rent out the second room to help with the mortgage. After a exhausting search and nerve racking bidding war battle we can now proudly say we are about to become slumlords. Yes, that will make Rudi a slumdog. :) The property was a foreclosure and it's transformation to our version of The Plaza will provide great design material for this blog. There is indeed great work to be done and it is a good thing I always keep my rose colored glasses and inner Eloise on hand.
Secondly we found out the Fashionista had earned a highly coveted position as a display intern at a store that is famous for their ingenious and highly creative displays. She is working on the fall installation. I will let you guess which store, here is a small hint.
This of course was followed by the worst of times. I heard about Ed McMahon first. As I am from a generation where 11pm was WAY past my bedtime it didn't effect me like it did others. But then there was Farrah. The Farrah of Charlie's Angels. A show which we were not supposed to watch as it was deemed "too sexy" by my mother. Her passing brought back a funny memory of my brothers hiding a certain poster along the back wall of their closet and making sure they shut the closet doors when they left the room. You know the one....
But Michael. That is a whole other story. Off The Wall was the first cassette I ever owned.
I had loved him in the Jackson 5...ABC...I'll Be There...Rockin' Robin... I was in the 6th grade when the world learned that Michael Jackson didn't really need his brothers as a backup, he could stand on his own two amazing feet.
Then came Thriller. Was anyone else 14 and mesmerized when he premiered the Moonwalk on Motown 25? I can remember sitting next to my bff T, looking at each other, jaws gaping open with disbelief soon followed by "What did he just do?"
What about the world premiere of the video Thriller? You know, back when they actually played music videos on MTV. My friends and I had never seen anything like it. We practiced the dance moves over and over in our stocking feet at many a pajama party. I myself practically wore out both my mother and the album section of "Beat it" by playing it over and over. Let's have a show of hands of who had a black, white or red jacket. I often borrowed my friends red vinyl version. We couldn't afford leather.
Like Princess Diana, Michael was one of the first celebrities to be hounded by the stalkarazzi. He revolutionized not only song, but dance and fashion as well.
The fashionista and I were waiting for the day tickets went on sale for what was to be his comeback.
Sadly, when combining his immense talent with his wealth and fame he was a target for many who wanted to make a easy dollar. Sure, he didn't make the best decisions sometimes. Of course I imagine that all of us would have some sort of dirty laundry to show if we were followed 24/7. In the end, as it is with all of us, it is between him and God.
Soon after I got the call that no mother wants to get...
The Fashionista is thankfully fine as is the other driver, but my nerves are totally shot.
I am not sure if the whole real estate bidding war coupled with Mr. Decor's absence and the accident was too much for me but later that night my head was spinning. Literally. I couldn't walk in a straight line and this resulted in severe nausea, among other unpleasant things. I finally had the fashionista take me to the ER after a really rough night and was diagnosed with benign positional vertigo ~ an inner ear condition.
That said, I am on bed rest. Of course I want to do it in style, so I have dug out my sparkly socks and loafers to wear while I am loafing it.
I'll see you in about a week my friends.