a complicated return (lyn)

I meet Corinne for a noon screening of Amour, the movie I had suggested my family see over Thanksgiving.  Everyone would have hated it.  It is sweet and sad, and keenly shows the ravages of old age.  It is not a cheery holiday movie.

I bring along my Isabel Murant dicker boots that I bought last December and have worn twice, briefly.  Both times I could barely walk in them.   When my mother was here in October she had suggested bringing them back. I thought she was nuts.   “They’ll never take them back,” I say.  “I bought them almost a year ago, and even had rubber soles put on them.”  But she planted a seed, and I have been thinking about it.  But every time I imagine doing it, I can’t get past, what excuse could I possibly give?   That I realize now, a year later,  the shoes don’t fit?  If it were me, I wouldn’t take them back. 

I decide to try anyway.

After leaving the screening, Corinne says, “I have total faith in your ability to return these boots.  You are great at challenges like this.  Maybe we should dirty them up a bit, and see if you can overcome any arguments you get.  Make it even harder.”  I imagine a reality TV show where contestants are given absurd customer service problems and they have to achieve a pre-assigned outcome.  I think I’d be good at that.

I go over to Bergdorf’s and the store is packed.  It’s the first day of their big 40% off sale.  I contemplate coming back another day when the sales people aren’t being besieged with real customers wanting to buy things, versus a customer like me only there for an improbable return.

But here I am so I decide to proceed.  I go to the shoe department and ask for a manager.  I know this can’t be addressed with a first line shoe associate.  A few minutes later Josie appears.  I start to explain the problem and she puts her hand up to stop me.  Nicely she says, “You know, I really don’t care about your story.  We’ll make a one time exception, but I can only give you a store credit.”  I am incredulous of her response.

Josie tells me it could take a while as she needs to go to Client Services.  I don’t care.  I roam the store, buy nothing, and leave with a big store credit.

cedric (lyn)

Like most people, I am always searching for the perfect cut. 

A few weeks ago, Robyn mentions that her friend Elise has a great stylist.  His name is Cedric, and his salon is called AKA Cedric.  She even gives me a 30% off coupon.  I schedule an appointment.

It’s a miserable day for a haircut.

Cedric’s salon, despite being on the second floor of a high rise in an industrial neighborhood, is sleek and modern.

Cedric is charming.  He was born in Turkey, grew up in Belgium, and has lived in the US for 14 years.  He asks about me.  He says it helps when considering how to style my hair.  I ask him to tell me what he thinks just by looking at me.  He says, “You want a no-fuss hairstyle.  You seem to live a busy life and don’t want to spend a lot of time on your hair.  I think he adds the busy-life part to be nice, when what he really means is, “Your hair looks unstyled; like you just got up and left the house.“

Cedric spends time on my hair.  He was a top stylist in Belgium, then came here and trained at Frederick Fekkai.  He is an artist.  I can tell the by the way he angles my hair, and cuts it with precision.  I like watching him.

before

after

I never like my hair the first day after a cut, but I can tell I’ve gotten a good one.  The back looks especially great.

Cedric gives me a few 30% off coupons for new customers, so let me know if you want to try him out.  He really is talented, even if my before and after pictures look pretty much the same.

hot tip! (m)

Katie Holmes recently wore a Narcisso Rodriquez dress to a press event.

The dress is a v-neck, long sleeve black cocktail dress with ruching down the front.




I think Katie looks great in the dress.


It is part of the designer's new line for Kohl's Department Store.  It retails for $70 and is on SALE for $35!


Comes in four colors.

How can you lose?

a successful cyber monday (lyn)

I return almost everything I bought over Thanksgiving.

The Nespresso Machine that was 25% off provided enough coffee for a sip.  I return it to William Sonoma still in its unopened shipping box.

I return my digital meat thermometer because I no longer need it.  The one I bought last January had stopped working.  But after reading the great customer service stories online about ThermoWorks, the maker of my $19 thermometer, I call them. Without much of an explanation on my end, Mark quickly says, "Gee; your thermometer shouldn't break after only a few months. I’ll send you a new one.” 

My Skadoosh iPad holder by Jadu breaks at M’s house.  Or so I think.  I write to the company and within a day, Jazzy (yes, that’s her name) writes back with concise instructions on how to fix my problem.  Jazzy and her husband Dustin run this small company.  Today I return my replacement iPad holder from William Sonoma.

And finally, I return my unopened Chanel lipstick, deciding I don’t really need another one.

I relax with Shari for an afternoon screening of Celeste and Jesse Forever.  The only thing remaining from my Thanksgiving purchases is the big bag of milk chocolate-filled-with vanilla Lindt truffles.  Too bad I can't return them; if I could, I'd save 210 calories a night.

lasagna and brownies (m)

One of my favorite episodes of Friends is when Rachel (Jennifer Aniston's character) attempts to make a trifle for Thanksgiving dinner.  The problem is, some of the pages in the cookbook stuck together and, when she turned the page for the trifle recipe, she inadvertently picked up midway into a lamb stew recipe.

Obviously, it was a disaster.  The only person who found it edible--and asked for seconds--was Joey.

My Cousin Patty wouldn't find that funny.  I think she would be intrigued by the possibilities of new and endless food combinations.

On Thanksgiving Day, my nephews made a pit stop to Cousin Patty's house.  She was in full production, house ablaze with Sternos heating up trays of food.  She began serving dinner at noon and people came in shifts.

Here's the menu:

Lasagna
Meatballs
Sausages
Baked macaroni and cheese
Turkey
Squash
Mashed Potatoes
Stuffing
Gravy
Cranberry Sauce
Assorted dinner rolls and corn bread
Creamed Onions
Sweet Potatoes
Green bean casserole

Trifle
Brownies
6 assorted pies
Cheesecake
Dishes upon dishes of candy-Lindt truffles, M&Ms (plain and peanut), Reese's peanut butter cups
S'mores bars (brought by a guest who made them)
Homemade cookies.

Oh, there were six guests scheduled for dinner.

My nephews Chris and Michael and Michael's girlfriend C stopped by to drop off Aunt X and say hello.

Patty: You're not going anywhere until you eat
Chris, Mike and C: We can't eat.  We are having dinner at Uncle J's house.
Patty: Please!  You won't eat until 5 o'clock
The boys: Yes, but they are expecting us at 2 p.m.
Patty: Yeah, so you can stare at carrots and celery for three hours. Get a plate.  I'll be insulted if you don't eat here.

So they did. The stuffed themselves.  In between the pasta course and the traditional Thanksgiving course, Patty takes out her brownies and offers them to Michael's girlfriend.

Patty: C! Try these.  My best batch ever.
C: Uh, okaaay.  I was going to have some turkey, though.
Patty: Yeah, okay.  You have to try these brownies first.  The turkey can wait.

When Chris, Michael and C arrived at my brother J's house, they were near comatose from having eaten way too much.

C, who is from Oregon and had just met Patty for the first time asked, "Do you normally have dessert in between food courses?"

Only at Patty's.

home at last (lyn)

Alexander and I leave the Cape by 7:30.  We drive back with Jason and Amanda as far as Stamford, then catch a train the rest of the way home.  We are in our apartment by noon.  Perfect.

I spend the rest of the day going through mail, catching up on emails, and restocking the refrigerator.  Alexander catches up with friends; I barely see him. 

We spent about an hour together, eating onion pizza from Al Forno.  My last splurge for awhile, I hope.  I don’t dare get on the scale yet.

nylon or cotton underwear? (m)

I'm cleaning out my closet when the phone rings.

Aunt X: Hello, M.  What are you doing?
Me:  Hello, Aunt X, I'm just cleaning my closet.
Aunt X (who loves hand-me-downs):  Oh?  Anything good?
Me: Well, not exactly, I'm cleaning out the underwear drawer.
Aunt X: Nylon or cotton?
Me: Excuse me?
Aunt X: Are you tossing nylon or cotton underwear?
Me: Uh, both....why?
Aunt X: Well, I like nylon.  If you have any nylon bloomers, bring them to my house.

Does this sound like a normal conversation to you?  Only in my family.  Specifically, my father's side.  Aunt X is one of 11 children. They are the sons and daughters of immigrants. They grew up in the Depression.

They also have the first nickel they ever made.

Aunt X is very comfortable financially.  She and her husband both worked for over 30 years.  They had no children. They lived rent-free in the family house.  My uncle used to buy her diamond rings and earrings.

In other words, she does not need my underwear.

I call my cousin Patty.

Me: Patty. Aunt X asked if I had any underwear to bring down to her.
Patty:  I'm not surprised.  You know she prefers hand-me-downs to new stuff.  She always makes us take the Christmas presents back.  You're not going to give her your used underwear are you?
Me: No!  Not used!
Patty:  Seriously, for Christmas, let's get her a new blouse and have someone wear it for a day and then tell her it's used.  She'll love it.

I go back to cleaning.  I find about 20 pairs of underwear with tags on them, courtesy of my mother who always stocked up at Marshall's or TJ Maxx and brought them to me.  The price tags show the markdowns.  Vanity Fair...was $18.00 on sale for $2.00.

I pack the stuff up in a box and bring them to Aunt X's house.  She opens the box and is delighted.

Aunt X: This is better than Christmas!  I'm going to wear these nice beige ones to Patty's house for Thanksgiving!