January 2003

January 30th 2003
Florence, Italy

I have just consumed enough garlic to scare away vampires for a lifetime.  I'm still trying to kick this cold and have nothing to use but homeopathic remedies.  It's not that I'm against good old fashion antibiotics; it's just that I don't have time to jump through the hoops it takes to get a proper prescription.  Where is Winona Ryder's doctor when I need him?

Hot off the press:  I've just gotten word that our New York office received a phone call from a representative of Snoop Doggy's office requesting the use of HOLLYWOULD shoes for his new clothing line.  That's right, straight outta the LBC (that's Long Beach Community, for the record).  How does Snoop Doggy even know about HOLLYWOULD?  Could one of our store customers have told him about us?  Blaine Trump, have you been chillin' with The D-O-Double-G again?  Maybe he just knows how much I love sippin' on gin & juice, laid back, with my mind on my money and my money on my mind.  

Mom, I'll explain later.

January 23rd 2003
London, UK

Am here in London, lying in bed reading the newest copies of Hello! and OK! and have come to the conclusion that all magazines should have exclamation points after their titles:  W!, Vogue!, InStyle!, Lucky!, Elle!.  It works, no?  Speaking of Hello!, someone there reads my diary because the day after I sang their praises (see Jan 6), they called to borrow shoes for a shoot.  According to my biz parter Leslie, this little HOLLYWOULD site got 45,000 hits yesterday and is averaging 30,000 a day.  Who are you and from where do you hither?

For those of you that live in London, are my friends, and are getting angrier by the minute: Calm Down.  The reason I didn't call you is because (a) I am only here for three days, on business, and have early morning meetings (b) I am sick as a dog with the flu, and (c) I knew you would force-feed me liquor and make me stay out dancing 'til noon the next day and I'm detoxing.  Yes, it's true.  I've just purchased a bottle of pills called the 28 Day Detox from Boots Pharmacy (God Save the Queen!) and the instructions call for no alcohol or childish behavior for the next 28 days.  That puts me to February 24th and I'm going to be good.  For your information, I even went to church today.  That's right Mom, Holy Trinity Brompton at 11:30am.  Am well on my way to sainthood and the only things between me and Feb 24th are week of parties in NYC, a week of parties in Paris, and a week of parties in Palm Beach.  This may take a miracle . . .

January 23rd, 2003
Florence, Italy

Oh the things I do for you girls.  Have stayed up for the last 24 hours straight designing Fall 2003, and you are gonna love it!  However, as a result of my last week of parties combined with non-stop travel and this week's work load, I am a sneezing, coughing, nose-blowing mess.  I just popped out to run to the pharmacy and when you combine all of the facts above with the freezing cold weather, you can imagine I didn't look my cutest.  A girl can't always look like a fashion plate, and I figured that my quick jaunt outside didn't merit changing out of my PJs and Uggs.  Who would have thought that on this dreary day I would have my first run-in with fame?

Long story short:  The minute I stepped out the door I was spotted by a cute little Japanese girl who approached me and said, in Italian, are you the designer of HOLLYWOULD?.  This has never happened before so I was completely unprepared.  What I should have said was, No I am not.  The designer of HOLLYWOULD is much prettier, never sick, and would never step out into the streets of Florence in her PJs and Uggs.  She always wears five inch heels, a bikini, lots of diamonds, and a long fur coat.  Instead, I admitted to being me and she said that she and her friends loved our shoes, but in a cute Japanese-speaking-Italian-accent.  And it's all thanks to you, Paris & Nicky (see Jan 17).  Kawaii!

January 21st 2003
Charles de Gaulle Airport

Have been stuck at CDG for the last 6 hours due to a strike.  Quelle surprise!  As you can imagine, I spend a lot of time hanging out in Duty Free Zones and have become quite the expert on international airports.  Hence my own personal International Airport Lounge Review:

Dusseldorf Airport:  This is the worst airport in Europe, hands down.  The only restaurant they have is a horrible Chinese place (after all, it is Germany) that serves unrecognizable Chinese dishes with a side of sauerkraut.  Disgusting.  However, if you ever end up with lots of time to kill, you can head to the airport Marriot as I have once before.  It is just across the taxiway and was freshly remodeled in 1967.  It boasts a heated indoor swimming pool that is full of German men in Speedos and hasn't been cleaned in decades.  Now, I always travel with bikini and can't pass up a chance to swim, so on a long day last February I took the plunge.  It was like Fear Factor.

Brussels Airport:  Another dull place except for one Duty Free shop that is operated by a stern Belgian woman and sells merchandise she must have found on Ebay.  I had been coveting a pair of 1984 Porsche sunglasses every time I passed through the airport and despite the fact that they were indeed from 1984, was forced to pay full price (lots of Euro!) for them last summer.  But oh how I love them.  They fold up in fours.

Rome & Milan Airports:  Completely smoke filled.  Everytime I leave my clothes smell like I've spent 24 hours hanging out with Dennis Leary in a closet at the Marlboro factory.  

Paris CDG Airport:  Where else can you buy a wheel of cheese, a glass of champagne, and an Hermes watch at six o'clock in the morning?  No where!

London, Gatwick Airport:  I prefer a more luxury lounge, but if you enjoy Sock Shop and Tie Rack you'll love it.

London, Heathrow Airport: Best airport in the world.  If I lived in London I would come hang out here.  Duty Free includes: Smythson of Bond Street, Gucci, Hermes, Paul Smith, MAC, Pringle, Burberry, Prada, Nike, and Ferragamo to name a few.  They have full Internet Access, a video arcade with a snowboard you can ride, and more restaurants than Las Vegas.  This is how an airport should be. 

January 19th 2003
Los Angeles, California

You would think that after receiving a phone call from a total stranger (who said I gave him my number on Thursday night) I would stay away from booze, but when HBO throws a party with free flowing Veuve Clicquot a girl just can't refuse.  That rhymes.  The stranger, by the way, was very taken aback that I didn't even recognize his name.  After all, he said, he was a personal friend of Matthew Perry's.  It's a pretty sad day when your claim to fame is being a personal friend of Matthew Perry's, but probably a sadder day when I actually give someone like that my cell phone number.  It has to stop.

At any rate, the night began with a bang when on our way to dinner at our hotel, The Mondrian, we spotted Christina Aguilera in the lobby.  With full hair, makeup, and midriff, it felt just like TRL.  I wanted to sit her down and tell her she has a beautiful voice, but desperately needs a new hairdresser, makeup artist, stylist, agent, publicist and manager, but she was off in her limo before I got the chance.  Christina are you reading this?  There is a better way.

I knew it was going to be a great night because my two partners in crime (Erin & Kate - see Jan 17) and I had been joined by my long lost Los Angeles friend Sally Peckenpaugh, who has the best name under the sun.  Sally is getting married in June in Hawaii, so expect to see many a sunkist diary entry from me then!

The four of us headed over the the Chateau Marmont for the pre-Golden Globes HBO party and I was delighted to run into my fabulous friend, Queen of New York Nightlife, Amy Sacco (see Dec 19) the minute we hit the patio.  Amy was there with a whole host of friends, including fabulous designer Jeremy Scoot, heart-throb-of-the-moment Collin Ferrell, the beautiful Lisa Marie, and the lovely Sophie Dahl.   I have been a big fan of Sophie's for years, so when she exclaimed that she was a huge fan of HOLLYWOULD, I was overjoyed!  Now, if you're wondering how anyone could be a fan of a supermodel's work, you must not know that Sophie Dahl is not only a gorgeous model but also a phenomenal writer.  I read my first sampling of Sophie's prose in an issue of Cheap Date magazine, and she has just released a divine book called, The Man with the Dancing Eyes.  Her writing style reminds me of a dreamy grown up version of my favorite childhood book Eloise, so it's definitely worth the purchase.  Soph, we'll have to arrange a trade: shoes for prose!

Tonight are the Golden Globes and we're all keeping our fingers crossed for our favorites.

January 18th 2003
Los Angeles, California

Erin and I have spent the past two days hobnobbing with a long list of stars including everyone from Mira Sorvino to Carmen Electra.  They are best friends.  Just kiddin'. 

We're participating in the Cabana pre-Golden Globes event at the Chateau Marmont and it is as if an issue of Us Weekly has come to life.  So, without further ado, I will begin name-dropping and giving my two cents on everyone we've met.  FYI, I can't be mean because mean isn't nice, so some of these might be sugar coated:

Confessions of a Dangerous Mind's Sam Rockwell (Love Sam), Punch Drunk Love's Phillip Seymour Hoffman (A genius.  And funny.  And cool.), Shine's Geoffrey Rush (Loves Hollywould.  Loves women.  Loves legs.  Love Geoffrey),  Mighty Aphrodite's Mira Sorvino (So smart.  So nice.  So pretty.)  Baywatch's Carmen Electra (You love her the minute you meet her), Mullholland Drive's Laura Herring (The best.  I want her to win all awards from now on.),  The Pianist's Adrien Brody (Kind of foxy, tall, and brooding.), Rod & Robbie's ex Rachel Hunter (The perfect legs for high heels.),  Will & Grace's Debra Messing (Where was your drunk friend Karen?  I love Karen.), Boston Public's Rashida Jones (So pretty.  Dating DJ Mark Ronson.), 8 Mile's Taryn Manning (Such a tiny girl with such a punk rock voice.), Nicole Hiltz (Don't know what she is in, but she is fab and will be a huge star.  Take my word for it.), K19; The Widowmaker's Peter Sarsgaard (not only a fine actor - I saw K19; The Widowmaker courtesy of American Airlines and he rules that movie - but a man with good taste.  Wanted to get a pair of HOLLYWOULDs for his girlfriend, Secretary's Maggie Gyllenhaal who, way back when she and I were both fresh in the biz, wore HOLLYWOULDs for a piece in Glamour mag that was one of her and my first pieces of press!  Just look at how far she's come.  A Golden Globes nomination!  Way to go Mags!)

The best news of the day was that our favorite star of all, The Soprano's Annabella Sciorra, showed up to the event wearing HOLLYWOULDs!  We love you Annabella.

January 17th 2003
Los Angeles, California

Dude, where's my Vicodin?  I just got a call from the office and Erin and I are in serious trouble.  I appears that we left Leslie Ternes (my biz partner, NYC roommate, and our COO) a series of very drunken messages from last night.  She has just replayed them for us and although most of them are extremely inaudible due to excessive laughter, there are tidbits of clarity, such as me saying Dude, Owen Wilson is a Hobbit!, with Erin in the background screaming, Dude, Ashton Kutcher is a Fox!.

From what I can recall, the night began with drinks and dinner at the Chateau Marmont with my old pal Kate Schelter.  Kate and I both went to RISD (Rhode Island School of Design) and she has since become is LA's most brilliant graphic designer & trend forecaster (visit her fab website at http://www.kateschelter.com/), so I knew we were in good hands.  If you've ever been to the Chateau you know they make a great Mojito, so by the time we hit the next spot Erin and I were already high-fiving.

A Hollywood bar called Star Shoes was the next stop on our list.  Star Shoes is an old shoe store turned bar, so as you can imagine I was in paradise.  They still have the original stock shoes in glass cases so you can admire these gems from the 1940's-1970's all whilst sipping a cocktail.  The crowd at Star Shoes on a Thursday night is LA's version of the fashion pack, so I was happy to see loads of old friends from my days in LA.  These friends contributed to more alcohol consumption on my part, and by the end of our time there I was throwing Westside gang signs like it was my job.  Come by the store and I'll show you New Yorkers how.  Big shout-outs to Paz, Delaney, The Gregs, Red and Jennifer & Ramona.  Westside Forevah.  I'm still drunk. 

I can't put my finger on it, but somewhere between Star Shoes and the next club was where my drunken dialing began.  I called everyone on my phone rolodex including . . . say it isn't so . . . yes, my Secret Crush.  This is someone who I am too shy to even look in they eye, let alone speak with, let alone call, especially at 3am NYC time. I have often seen his name in my phone and thought, Hmmm I should really delete that.  But then I begin to wonder what would happen if I were ever on a plane and discovered that the person sitting next to me was my Secret Crush's long lost best friend from childhood who had half of a map they had made when they buried their collection of baseball cards in 1978 (now worth over $17 Million) and I was the only one who had his number in my phone.  So I don't erase it. 

From Star Shoes we somehow got to a club in West Hollywood which is creatively named The Lounge.  If you watch the WB, you will love The Lounge.  The minute we walked in the door we ran into Owen Wilson, who despite my drunken messages is not a hobbit.  Owen just happens to be shorter than me when I'm wearing 4 heels (about 6'2), which means that he is probably average compared to most of America, and Goliath compared to the rest of Hollywood.  Actually, the real Goliath of Hollywood, Vince Vaughn was also at the club and he is truly tall.  I'm guessin' 6'5.  Also there, and tall, and as Erin would say a fox, was Ashton Kutcher sans Brittany Murphy.  Gasp.  We also ran into Rachel Hunter sans Robbie Williams.  Double Gasp.  And FYI, Owen Wilson was sans Ben Stiller.  Does that get a gasp?  Hmmm. so many celebs (I don't know the names of) it's hard to know where to start.  Oh, oh, oh, the best girls of the evening had to be the forever beautiful, always glamorous, tons-of-fun siblings Paris & Nicky Hilton.  We LOVE the Hiltons as they have been big HOLLYWOULD fans from the start and deserve all the credit for our fame in Japan.  I can't begin to count the fashionable Japanese girls who arrive at our NYC store in droves carrying pictures of the Hilton Sisters in our shoes.  Paris & Nicky, you are sooooo kawaii (that's adorable / precious / beautiful in Japanese)!

Yikes!  We have a big day today and I already need a vacation.

January 15th 2003
Los Angeles, California

LA is rad.  When I got on the plane in NYC it was 7 degrees.  When I got off the plane here in LA it was 82.  Dude, I love LA.  Erin and I are here for a series of photo shoots and Golden Globe events and I'm not sure if we're ever going back to NYC.  For those of you who don't know, Erin Meeker is our Director of Sales & Marketing and my right hand gal when it comes to just about everything.  We've been here for less than 24 hours and we've already seen Pamela Lee (shopping with the kids), Larry King (wearing jeans standing in front of La Salsa),  Annabella Sciorra (trying on her Golden Globes dress), Vigo Mortenson (driving his car on Beverly), and.are you ready.Lance Bass from Nsync (standing in our Mondrian Hotel lobby)!  Now, I'm not very good with celebs as I only have time to see movies on the plane (which makes my last flick Santa Clause 2 starring thespian extraordinaire, Tim Allen) so I am glad to have Erin with me for the celeb-spotting.  However, when she pointed out Lance I couldn't quite figure out why until it dawned on me, and I said aloud and within earshot, Oh, isn't that the boy who wants to go to outer space?.  I am my own mother.  If only Lance had time to answer me I'm sure he would have said, Why yes, it is.  And it's also the kid who has sold over 578 million albums to screaming teenage fans from Moscow to Fresno.  OK?.  So sorry Lance.

January 11th 2003
Florence, Italy

Another New Year's Resolution I made this year was to Cut Back On The Spending.  Well, it's only January 11th and I've decided that is an entirely bad idea.  If the economy is down, why be part of the problem when you can be part of the solution?  So, today I went on a bit of a spree.  It started at Gucci when I decided that I desperately needed a new wallet.  In truth, my wallet snap had broken and my zipper was a mess, so I didn't feel the least bit of guilt.  Then, however, it was off to Valentino.  I had read about their new Limited Edition Gold sunglasses and thought it would be a good idea to just try them on.  Fortunately the salesgirl was nice enough to tell me that the pair I was trying was the last pair in all of Florence, so it didn't take more than 10 seconds before my charge card was on the counter and she was ringing me up.  They will look so good with my Hollywould Pink Cannes shoes this spring!  Then it was off to Dolce & Gabanna.

I have to stop here to talk about my LOVE for Dolce & Gabanna.  Unfortunately due to snobby fashionistas and so-called avant-gardes, Dolce & Gabanna don't get the love that they deserve.  I came to this realization this past spring when I was in Milan visiting their flagship shop on Via Spiga.  Have you ever been in that store?  It is amazing.  Not the layout or the dcor, per se, but the merchandise.  This is where they house all of their runway pieces that never make it to the stores, and all of their couture frocks that you'd be hard pressed to find elsewhere.  For example, a $12,000 pair of embroidered jeans that have so much hand-work and so many jewels I can tell you they are worth every single penny.  After spending at least an hour admiring the quality, fit, and craftsmanship of each stellar garment, I had an epiphany:  This is why women marry for money.  I had never thought of it before, but Dolce & Gabanna is the reason.  Really, up until that point I had thought of marrying for money as shallow and pathetic.  Why not make your own money or just be happy with what you have? I had wondered.  However, as I gazed longingly at all of the garments around me I imagined myself lounging on some island off the coast of Capri, wearing my $12,000 jeans and $4000 embroidered cashmere wife-beater tank top with a pair of chic flat Hollywould ballets.  I could kiss his forehead when he came home and then send him away to play with his domesticated white tigers.  Why not?  I was in the middle of my daydream when a beautiful young girl entered the store with a big, fat, hairy, husband five times her age.  He grumbled something to her in a Middle Eastern language and from what I could tell he said, The whole shop's on me.  But is it really worth it?  I guess it just depends on Dolce & Gabanna's next collection

In the meantime, get shopping!

January 6th 2003
Florence, Italy

Happy New Year!  Hope your vacay was as good as mine.  Spent my holiday snowboarding in Telluride and have head-to-toe bruises to prove it.   Got back to the office with only enough time to get my mail (attn:  Liv Tyler.  Your red metallic ballet shoes have arrived), and then was off to Italy.  For those of you who dont know, I get to live in Florence, Italy six months of the year because all of the beautiful Hollywould shoes and bags you see on this site are made in Tuscany.  Living in Florence really isnt a shabby deal, but because I split my time between the USA & Italy every other month, it makes it difficult to have a steady gym routine, hair dresser, social life, boyfriend, etc.  Speaking of boys . . .

My flight from JFK to Milan can best be described by four beautiful words:  Milan Mens Fashion Week.  Thats right, an entire plane full of male supermodels with Yours Truly sandwiched somewhere in between.  As luck would have it, my seat was flanked by two lads headed for the shows who refused to let me sleep.  Our topics of conversation ranged from Favorite Fast Foods to Favorite Hip Hop Performance of All Time to Favorite Video Game Strategies to The Mile High Club (which I was invited to join) to Donatellas Como Villa (which I was invited to visitpending he could find his copy of the keys).  Unfortunately my New Years Resolution of No Boys Under 24 and my usual just-plain-innocence-and-class prevented me from partaking in either of their offers.  I shudder to think what Elton John would have given to be in my position.

Speaking of Elton, my long flight gave me the opportunity to catch up on reading my two favorite mags in the world, Hello! and OK!.  The things I learned should be offered as a college major, but well just start by saying this:  Elton John is at war with Madonna.  Is this common knowledge?  According to Hello! (or was it OK!?), Elton said a movie about Madonnas life would be, and I quote, Cold and boring, like her.  Im forced to take sides and I side with Madonna.  I cant think of anything better than a movie about Madonnas life. We love you Madge!  Dont listen to him.  Other equally important news is that Robbie Williams (a) moved to LA (where I will be next week, Robbie), and (b) is dating Rachel Hunter.  Say it isnt so.  And lastly, lovely Nicole Appleton is still with in-need-of-a-haircut Liam Gallager and he still hasnt proposed.  Liam, step up to the plate.