Andy Warhol, Starving Artist

Before multi-colored Marilyns, Studio 54, and tomato soup, Andy Warhol eked out a living drawing shoes in small New York City apartments.

In 1949, Warhol moved to New York, and started working as a commercial artist. He drew shoes, gloves, and other apparel for magazine ads in Harper's Bazaar, Vogue, and Glamour. He lived with multiple roommates and in basement apartments. He was out all day looking for work and up all night drawing. He got paid per shoe he drew and would count them up to see what his paycheck would be. I think any artist who has lived in New York can relate . . .

He said, "The things I remember most about those days, aside from the long hours I spent working, are the cockroaches. Every apartment I ever stayed in was loaded with them. I'll never forget the humiliation of bringing my portfolio up to Carmel Snow's office at Harper's Bazaar and unzipping it only to have a roach crawl out and down the leg of the table. She felt so sorry for me that she gave me a job."

I like to take out my little Andy Warhol Fashion book on nights when I'm up late working on freelance. It's comforting to know that so many creatives have come to New York to work, live, and suffer, in hopes of getting their work seen, and that it's possible to go from roaches and shoe drawings to the MoMA.

And I really love how Andy drew shoes . . .

(All images from Andy Warhol Fashion, Chronicle Books, 2004)

Alexander McQueen

I just got a text message from my cousin, who is in fashion school, telling me that Alexander McQueen was found dead this morning. I was hoping to find a conflicting statement online, but when every source confirmed it, I felt my throat tightening.

This is devastating not only to the fashion world, but to all creatives out there. On days when I felt stuck with my graphic design work, I would visit McQueen's site and watch his runway shows for inspiration. His use of color and line was astounding, and the shapes and worlds he created rival those of Picasso. He was, simply, a genius.

We have lost someone great. 

“Now there are some things we all know but we don’t take’m out and look at’m very often. We all know that something is eternal. And it ain’t houses and it ain’t names, and it ain’t earth, and it ain’t even the stars—everybody knows in their bones that something is eternal, and that something has to do with human beings. All the greatest people ever lived have been telling us that for five thousand years and yet you’d be surprised how people are always letting go of that fact. There’s something way down deep that’s eternal about every human being.”
— Our Town, Thorton Wilder, Act III

(All photos from Style.com)

Prada publishes

The first pair of truly amazing shoes I owned were a pair of brown suede Prada slingbacks. They were an extremely generous gift from a good (and fashionable!) friend and I love them to death. I have had them re-heeled more times than I can count.

There's something unparalleled about a luxurious pair of shoes, and after you careful examine a pair of Pradas you start to understand what sets them apart from less expensive brands.

With that pair of shoes, I fell for the brand. Now, each season, I pay special attention to Prada's collections. And wait patiently for sales. Last summer, I got the last pair of python runway heels in the Fifth Avenue store. They were almost forgotten on the toes of an upstairs mannequin.

Back in November, when I heard that Prada was putting out a book, I was thrilled. But when I read that it wasn't being released until February, I tried to push it out of my mind. No use obsessing months in advance. That's why I was shocked to find it among my Christmas presents. (My boyfriend had ordered it from Milan!)

It's absolutely incredible. My favorite sections are the photos showing the mohawk runway shoes being made, the layouts of the fashion shows, and the complete collection of their magazine ads.

Not only does it chronicle everything about the brand, it's a beautiful book. It comes with a sturdy slipcase that gives the impression of a fancy dictionary. The varying page layouts really highlight the work and they even go so far as to include pull-outs. Everything seems considered, much like the brand itself.

This book is made for someone like me, who carefully traces her fingers over every stitch of a handmade jacket, or wonders about the beginnings of that collection marching down the runway at Fashion Week. It shows you how one pair of beautiful shoes can start an obsession . . .

(Prada book photos © Littlehouse of Style)

Get out of jail free cards...?

I decided for my New Years resolution that I would give up buying new shoes for 6 months. Now, this came on the heels of the Barney's sale where I went a little wild, but, still, I'm going to give it a go. I can't stop thinking of the Sex in the City episode where Carrie realizes she has spent what would have been a down payment for an apartment on shoes. "I will literally be the old woman who lived in her shoes!"

Not that I'm as shoe crazy as Carrie (well, maybe), but I could curtail my collecting a bit. Everywhere you turn in my apartment there are shoeboxes hiding!

One of my friends sagely commented, "Six months seems like a long time, what about the Spring collections!" (HIS resolution was to give up smoking. Overachiever).

Well, maybe I can give myself 2 "Get Out of Jail Free cards". . . hmm . . . What would be my picks? Obviously, a pair of Proenza Schoulers. If you haven't noticed, I love the design duo, and their shoes always amaze.

Oh, and Jil Sander's metal heels and platforms! I've been on the search for navy heels . . .

Maybe Christopher Kane's screw-like heels? How great would these look with a classic black cocktail dress?

And Lanvin's classic nude and cream pumps. They would go perfect with a brown shirt dress that I have . . .

And Gianfranco Ferré! What are you doing to me?! You know I'm a sucker for architectural heels!

This is going to be harder than I thought . . .

(Community Chest card parody © Littlehouse of Style, Runway shoes from Style.com)

Sometimes the Early Bird overlooks the worm.

A couple years ago, my friend Kelly and I wandered into the 6th avenue flea market late on a Saturday afternoon. My experience has been that most of the vintage sellers know what they have in New York, so it's rare to find a true steal. It's also an early bird's market. If you show up at 3:30pm, you're probably going to be greeted by picked over tables and sellers who are anxious to start packing up.

This particular afternoon, however, I lucked out. Among the balding tables, a brown leather shoulder bag caught my eye. I immediately pictured it carrying my books, phone, and iPod to work every day. But, of course, I was skeptical. "I bet it's expensive," I whispered to Kelly before asking the seller "How much?" When she said "fifteen," I made sure I hadn't misheard her ("Fifty?") and then quickly put the money into her hand.

It turns out I was right about the expensive part. It was a Brahmin handbag from Brahmin Leather Works in Massachusetts, and probably retailed for $300-400. The straps are a little worn, but the leather has aged beautifully, and you just can't beat the color. A little mink oil brightened it right up.

Even though I haven't come across a bargain like that since, now I'm a little more optimistic when I pass a flea market after a late brunch.

(Bag photos: © Littlehouse of Style)

From my grandma's closet...

When I was visiting my Grandma Angelina over Thanksgiving, she mentioned that she had two dresses for me. I immediately perked up.

My Grandma grew up in Brooklyn, then moved to Connecticut when she got married, in 1953. After the incredible choices New York had to offer, Connecticut seemed like a wasteland. Luckily, my grandma had a wonderful friend, Marie, who still lived in New York. Whenever Marie saw something my grandma might like– from china place-settings to bolts of tweed to a dress for an upcoming party– she would pick it up and ship it to my grandma. "Back then," she told me, "your size was your size."

This black dress was one of the things Marie picked out for my grandma. "I wore the dress to a party in the evening, under a tent, and it was the year Stephen was born, 1961," she wrote to me. I love the full skirt and the sheer sleeves. When I first tried it on, I didn't think it would fit! My grandma was so petite. And this was AFTER she had 3 kids! When I came downstairs to show my grandpa, he looked at my grandma and exclaimed, "You were that skinny!?" and we all burst out laughing. (They're always telling my sister and I that we need to eat more!)

My grandma didn't have the original belt anymore, which she told me was wide, so I used a satin sash from another dress and tied it into a big bow.

As my grandma expected, I paired it with wild heels. I thought these Prada platforms would be perfect.

The second dress she gave me is even more incredible. It was made for her, for her honeymoon, by my grandpa's sister, Marianne. Marianne worked as a seamstress at Bergdorf Goodman in New York. When my grandma got engaged, they looked at gowns in Henri Bendel for ideas, and then Marianne made one exactly how my grandma wanted! You can tell from just looking at this dress how talented she is. The covered buttons, the collar, the piping... everything is considered and executed so perfectly.

When I slipped this dress over my head, it fit me PERFECTLY. And isn't the color gorgeous! I don't have anything orange and now I'm wondering why. It's made of silk taffeta.

I really like vintage, but getting a piece passed down from a family member is just about as good as it gets, and getting something MADE by a family member is unreal. My grandma kept these dresses for over 50 years. She told me she couldn't bear to get rid of them or put them in the dress-up box. I'm so glad she didn't. They are treasures.

(All photos © Littlehouse of Style)