*hangs head in shame*

Yes, I know.   Promises of updating the site have gone unfulfilled for quite some time.  Truly, Paul and I are quite apologetic — we’ve both been insanely busy: professionally, personally and socially.  While we know you’ll forgive us for the 2 former excuses, we should have regaled you with the latter here at UrbanGirl.  We admit it — we should be flogged for our woeful negligence.

Well, here are 2 new promises to you:

(1)  An update on the next social event shall make its way here: Monday night’s cocktail party, courtesy of Louis Vuitton‘s most charming President and CEO, Daniel Lalonde; and

(2) Pictures and updates from France, where Paul and I are headed this coming Tuesday.

Au revoir!

Sick. Just heart achingly, soul wrenchingly, mouth wateringly, deliciously S-I-C-K.

Louboutin for Rodarte.  Via Jak & Jil.

I truly thought that honor would go to Twilight (yes, I did see it.  And yes, I READ it, what’s more.  And you know what?  I actually enjoyed it.  There.  I said it.)  but last night, I was forced to surrender that title to a new film, the much anticipated The Spirit.

It is an impossible task to document all the failings of this film. From costume to acting (it’s not like I didn’t know Samuel L. Jackson’s ’style’ is to simply over-act every role he’s ever been given, but even as an over-the-top villain in a comic series, SLJ is… well, over the top.) to plot progression to… hell, everything was bad.  I mean, even my girl-crush on Eva Mendes did nothing to compensate for the film’s shortcomings.  So if you find yourself hankering for a splendid 2 hours of cringing and snickering, grab a friend, a flask and head to the theatres to see The Spirit.  Don’t say I didn’t warn you.

So I realize this negates any possible Cool Points I might have picked up in my years on this earth, and after reading this post, you may want to curse me and put a hex on my house, but I cannot not share these goodies with you.  They are mesmerizing!  The proverbial car crash — you just can’t look away.

The Twilight photochop to a genius scene in my all-time favorite movie, Zoolander.  Is there anything “more to life than looking really, really, ridiculously good looking” (besides orange mocha frappuccinos!)?  Brint, Meekus and Rufus have nothing on the Cullens!

And an oldie, but goody, featuring the Muscles from Brussels.  That’s right, it’s Jean Claude Van Damme.  His first movie credit: Breakin’ (if you’re older than, say, 28, you’re probably having one of those “Oh yeeeeahhhh!” moments).  Love love love! the woman stepping into the scene, pulling her massive Jazz-ercise ‘tards up even HIGHER.

Like I said - mesmerizing!  For those wanting to reenact this scene, grab yourself a unitard, some friends from the 80’s and start practicing: it’s left, right, backstep, heel, shoulder dip, booby shake, booby shake, repeat. Get to it.

Excuse me while I indulge in severe, unadulterated, pick-my-jaw-off-the-floor, foaming-at-the-mouth, how-many-pints-of-blood-do-I-need-to-sell? lusting.  I rarely am this giddy over any single collection but Balmain’s S/S ‘09 has me positively swooning.  The military jackets leave me awestruck: the masculine features balanced by the embellishments, the severe padding of the shoulders made more feminine with rounded sloping.  The liberal use of silver stud detail on organza, tulle and silk screams “Rock Princess“.  That pencil skirt trimmed all the way around with studs and grommets and then broken up visually by the rawness of the heavy-duty silver zipper!  And dahhling! Those heels!  Not your mama’s Sunday shoes, love.  But me? I’ll be dreaming (and scheming!) my way into that delicious white leather jacket (admit it - you’ve been waiting for a proper white leather jacket for ages!) with studded detail and a black-tie lapel.  Oh la la!

Pre-order now at Luisaviaroma.

Whether you are commemorating the birth of Christ today or partaking in the eons old ritual of celebrating the winter solstice this week, UrbanGirl wishes you all a season of joy, friendship and peace.

I’ve never had a fondness for Barbie.  While my little girlfriends busied themselves dressing the busty  mademoiselle, I enjoyed staging conflicts between my GI Joes and He-Man action figures.  In high school, I wrote a 12 page paper, lumping Barbie with some of her more pernicious sisters, arguing her role in stagnating the feminist movement.  And today, I may have more reason to dislike Barbie:

To commemorate Barbie’s 50th birthday (just so you know, I skipped the plastic surgery joke, just for you), Mattel will be taking to the New York Fashion Week tents and staging their very own show.  They’ve picked 50 designers to dress the icon, as yet unannounced, but the most important detail has been decided: Monsieur Louboutin will be designing Barbie’s kicks, in her signature Pantone 219 pink.  Says the designer, “Barbie needs to wear great shoes because every girl needs to wear great shoes.” With Louboutin tending to Barbie’s feet, you can be sure she will not be showing up in orthopedic shoes for her 50th birthday bash.

Thank you for all the lovely emails inquiring about my and UrbanGirlChronicles‘ whereabouts.  Truth be told, both Paul and have have been swamped with personal and professional obligations in recent months and we’ve been quite unable to get ourselves at the computer long enough to write you a post.  But we’ve been thinking about you, and will return shortly.  So much thanks for all the patience and concern!

xoxo,

Yvonne

As part of my recovery from Fashion Week, I’ve taken to the social calendar of a hermit.  Case in point: had a fab invite to a benefit featuring 20 wonderful artists in Chelsea today and what did I end up doing?  Vege-ing at home and re-organizing my closet.  Hopefully, this period will pass in time for the Chanel mobile exhibit opening later this month.

Paul and I were sitting down at dinner (you know, part of the aforementioned vege-ing), discussing the current economic condition.  We both agreed that we’d put off replacing the dining chairs with the tufted George II lucite chairs that I’ve been oggling (I’m on a major lucite kick and may need an intervention soon).  Selfless person that he is, Paul offered another way to conserve energy: “I can drink all the wine in the wine fridge so what we can unplug it and save energy.” Oh so helpful, isn’t he?

As for me, I fear this economic downturn will mean a slower-growing accessories closet.  For instance, that Hermès Kelly addition?  Backburner til ‘09.  That Chanel Melrose flap?  Will have to wait.  The 1 carat diamond studs I imagined twinkling from each of my earlobes?  Bye-bye.  Instead, the funds for those purchases will be diverted to the decidedly less glamorous savings account.  Booooo!

How will you adjust your spending in this economic climate?

Paul and I took a break from all the painting fun this weekend (my parents will be visiting — eeps!) to head over to the nearby diner for some eggs Benedict (my morning food weakness).  The usual Sunday crowd filled the oversized dining room, but my attention was drawn to one particular table in the center of the commotion.  It was a family of eight, and from their dress, it seemed they had just come from Sunday mass to refuel for the day ahead.  But it wasn’t their neatly groomed attire in the midst of all the sweatpants that caught my eye.  You see, I was drawn to the strappy, 3.5 inch silver stiletto heels that were being paraded around… by the young girl who seemed no older than 10.  Perhaps even as young as 8.  I was shocked, and then apalled, to tell the truth.

Let’s ignore for a minute that her choice of footwear will horribly damage her still growing and not-as-yet set bones and spinal cord, and ignore even, the injury she may cause herself by tripping and falling in such inappropriate shoes.  Stilettos have always hinted at a certain femininity associated with maturity.  For many wearers, and many more beholders, the tall, thin heel on a pair of shoes portray a sexiness, a certain command of attention that can only be associated with a confident, mature woman.  High heel and stiletto enthusiast that you know me to be, even I didn’t start wearing heels until sometime in high school.

So, my question is, how young is too young to don a pair of strappy, 3.5 inch stilettos?