After I interviewed jewelry designer Jennifer Fisher yesterday afternoon for a future Game Plan column, I left her showroom to enjoy a bit of SoHo in the unseasonably mild temps we’re having in the Northeast. I wound up browsing in the Shabby Chic couture store and in Philip Lim. Then, making my way for a stroll back to the West Village, I saw a Diane von Furstenberg store.
Well, hello.
I walked in and immediately laughed because there was a little pink lip-shaped change purse that I had just ‘pinned’ on Pinterest. Fun to see it in person. But then my eyes drifted to a four-pack of Diet Coke bottles (only made of tin, like cans) featuring iconic DVF designs.
During a trip to Chicago in the fall, I had taken home my tin Diet Coke bottle from the Art Institute of Chicago at the prodding of my friend when she saw how lit up I was when I saw it. There is currently a wisp of eucalyptus in that one in my kitchen. I had seen these the first time at the National Constitution Center in Philadelphia for the Princess Diana exhibit a few years ago. Just something about the shape and design that appeals to me. Add in some DVF designs and it’s a no-brainer purchase.
Already quite the happy camper, I let my eyes wander over the clothes. They stopped short on a pink sweater. A must try. The salesgirl asked me what size and I told her my DVF dresses and jeans are size 12, so the largest they have would be best. That was a ‘medium/large.’ The shape of the sweater is over-sized, but despite my unmistakable curves it looked like I had absolutely no figure in this frock.
Good for my wallet, I thought. But then I asked her to bring me the smaller size. I put it on and it looked and felt sooooooooo good. Bright pink skimming over my black jeggings and knee-high boots. Slouchy but fitted somehow, as only good clothes can be. I put on my glasses to check my Blackberry for messages and noted the tag on the sweater (which I couldn’t see clearly before) said “Petite/Small.” As if there was any question then and there that my ego would lead the way on that purchase.
As I strolled out of there with my vibrant lip-emblazoned shopping bag, I knew what had to come next. Because, of course, that purchase meant that the impending happy hour would be curtailed to a few drinks. No dinner. No longer in the budget. But I couldn’t put alcohol in my empty stomach, so off to Gray’s Papaya in the West Village before meeting friends at happy hour in Hoboken.
Recession special — two hotdogs and a Diet Coke. Mine comes with sauerkraut, relish and mustard. The beauty of the experience is standing at the counter and eating and people watching on the corner of Eighth Street and Sixth Avenue. I thought about how it can’t be common for a woman carrying a DVF bag to be wolfing down hotdogs at Gray’s Papaya. And how if I saw anyone I knew it would feel a little like they caught me at a crack house.
By the way, did I mention the relish is new? At least to me. That was always the one disadvantage to Gray’s that I had overlooked because the hotdogs are so darned good. But now, relish.
Relish.
