Sunday, January 31, 2010

Spring Summer Fashion 2010

It might seem like a million billion years away, but spring is coming! And soon. Judging from the runways, here are some trends to look for in the coming months (all images Style.com. Click to enlarge.):

General: The general silhouette is similar to past seasons: volume concentrated at the shoulders and a small belt at the natural waist. This season, we're seeing some new twists on the big shoulders--out with the 80s and in with the girly, there are transparent sleeves, puff sleeves, even slashed sleeves, which should stay in style forever and ever because they're pretty and medieval-y. This season's colors are also in a more muted palette, thanks to Dries Van Noten's wonderful Fall/Winter 2009 collection, which pleased the eye with its slightly off pastels and tan.

 
aquilano.raimondi

 
Celine

Transparency/ lingerie: Fashion is beginning to move away from the tough-girl 80s look of the past few seasons. It's still around, but we're also looking at lots of lace and sheer layers for the spring.


 
John Galliano
 
 
Donna Karan

Denim: Early 90s denim is back, guys! Take that as you will. I myself will shake my fist at the uncaring heavens.

  
 
Stella McCartney
Bondage Warrior: Yep, she's still here, but with a more futuristic edge. Thanks, Gucci. Balmain also continued its widely successful military streak, bootleg versions of which you can now find at your local Zara.

 
Gucci

  
Balmain

Prints: Computer-generated prints are going to be big this season. These prints, mostly digitally altered images, were first introduced by Alexander McQueen (and, if I may say so, were used spectacularly in his Spring/ Summer show. Yay fractals!) but other houses are using them too. Tribal prints are also "back." It always makes me laugh when fashion editors proclaim that "ethnic" is in, because when is it not? But here we are.
 
 
aquilano.raimondi

 
 
Dries Van Noten


Cross-posted on Contrast.

Saturday, January 30, 2010

The Return of Hope (?????!!!!!!)

 
Smexy

So I think the consensus is that anyone who isn't a progressive or a conservative kind of likes Obama again? The State of the Union was very well done, and I so enjoyed the snark. Please snark forever, Mr. President, it was wonderful. I thought that the tone was a little odd--it didn't feel like he was speaking to us, but to Congress, and the American people were secretly watching. In fact, he barely addressed the public directly, which was surprising. 

I never thought that Obama was going to wave a magic wand and make everything better. And it's not like I haven't been disappointed with him or his choices. But this SOTU was particularly brilliant--he acknowledged that he had made some mistakes but firmly distanced himself from the gridlock that is our current government. Well played. And, while I haven't been able to watch the whole thing yet, the House Republicans invited the President to speak at their retreat yesterday. The speech and Q&A session are supposed to be awesome. Please bring your A-game forever, Mr. President.

Oh, and also, this is obligatory:

 

Wednesday, January 27, 2010

Life Skills

I consider myself a pretty competent person when it comes to household stuff. I can cook most simple things, I can do the laundry, I can sweep, vacuum, plunge a toilet. But this Monday exposed my three greatest weaknesses: my inability to peel a potato; my difficulty in flipping food with a spatula; and my complete ignorance of how to fix things that are broken. On our Bologna group, when we learn something that we should know how to do already, we jokingly call out "Life skills! Life skills!" (Unfortunately, this mostly pertains to me. I'm not sheltered you guys honest! Actually I am. But I at least knew how to do my laundry and cook pasta by freshman year of college, which is more than I can say for some of my friends.)

Anyway. This Monday, some of us had our cooking class with Rita, a professional chef who makes us delicious things and then we spend hours at her house talking to her and then she makes us eat more delicious things. One of the things we made that night was mashed potatoes. And Rita expected me to peel a potato, not with an Amerkan yuppy potato peeler, but with a paring knife. Doom. Death. Destruction. Then she realized I was a lefty and said that was my mistake. (!!!) And then she told a totally hilarious story about how, in ye olden days, if a girl wanted to marry a guy, she would go to his mother and show her that she could peel an apple. And alas I would have been a spinster. This is why my family is Russian-Polish. Similar hilarity ensued when I attempted to flip some veal that was frying in a pan. As we were leaving after our delicious dinner, she ruffled my hair, and I'm not sure if that was an, "You're adorable, I really like you" ruffle or an, "Oh, poverina! Your mamma never taught you how to cook!") Most likely the latter.

Then, when I came home, one of my room mates asked me about what was going on in the sink. I had done some laundry in the sink that weekend and the water hadn't gone down. I kept waiting and waiting, but no dice. Monday morning, my room mate had handed me a bottle of Italian Draino and told me to fix the sink. I've never had to deal with broken things before, especially clogged drains, because hello, that's what the super is for. I know this makes me sound incredibly spoiled, but it's... kind of true. Anyway, I poured some Draino in the sink and thought I had done my job. When I came back home Monday,  not only had the water not gone away, but there was more water. Arrgh. I told my room mate and she was all, "What?! You have to take the water out first?" I was so flustered from the cooking lesson and so upset that my room mates were angry at me that I went ahead and started getting all of the water out of the sink... even though it was in the middle of another room mate's birthday party! (The stars were truly aligned for me that day.) Anyway, one of their guy friends went to help me, and by help me I mean finish the job for me.

Life skills.

In other news, I joined a gym. Awww yeah. But it's a scary gym. When they sign up, they give you a leather binder that contains a workout diary, an instruction manual for all of the machines, and a book that tells you how to eat a "balanced" diet and contains evil recipes from an evil Australian spa. I say this only because I'm convinced that most diets are created so the morbidly wealthy can worry about something other than their lack of having anything to do all day. I just ate salty crackers with delicious sausage on them and a Baci for desert, something that I'm sure Fitness First would not approve of. They can go suck it.

Tuesday, January 26, 2010

Some notes

NICKNAMES

Nicknames are a funny thing. Ceci seems more like my name than Cecilia does. And I find that it's really strange to introduce yourself to strangers. I don't really think of myself as having a name (if that makes sense?) so when I introduce myself it's always a bit of a surprise: I think of myself in one way but others see only a person named Ceci. (To quote Jersey Shore, "Woah, that was kind of deep.") Anyway, since coming here, I've mostly introduced myself as Ceci (Che-chi). One intrepid member of the Ecco group, Alessandra, has shorted it to Cec (Chech), and that's what everyone calls me now. It's a nick name to the fourth power! And now my professor has taken to calling me La Ceci, which is how you refer to famous people and divas. Hum.

RACIST AD STILL RACIST

So remember that charming Fiat commercial I saw? Well, I'd only seen it from a distance. Up close it's more offensive. Lazy black guys doing silly minstrel-y things, suddenly decide to head to the car, and there are their pregnant blonde wives waiting to take a drive with them! And then they merrily bop along in their ugly new Fiat, which fits six people, nine if you're counting the babies. Ahahahaha so funny. Anyway, I was trying to explain to an Italian friend why this ad was so racist and he just stared at me and said, "What? But that's the Jamaican soccer team! How is that racist?" That just makes it even worse. PEOPLE.

Friday, January 22, 2010

Ohohoho Goldenballs


Classier Golden Balls (Whoever gets the reference is my friend forever.)

So, remember how I mentioned this news show where some reporter grabbed David Beckham's balls? Apparently, he's on loan from LA Galaxy to AC Milan (please) so this intrepid reporter named Elena Di Cioccio decided to see if Beckham was worthy of his wife's nickname for him, Golden Balls. He's been in some underwear ads and there were some accusations that his underwear had been stuffed. And Elena discovered that Il Beckham is small. Quelle surprise. So why hasn't she been sued or arrested or something? Like WTF?

Also, watching the afternoon news has made me realize that a lot of Italian news programs are organized like talk shows or game shows. And people say Americans have short attention spans.

Also too an ad just came on for a Fiat car. A bunch of lazy black men are lolling around in a tropical paradise. But lo! A perfect white family needs help loading their car! So the lazy black men take all of their worldly possessions and put them into the car, to show the perfect white family just how much room their Fiat car/child rapist van (true story, that's what it looks like) has, and then everyone drives away together. Now there's a report about Haiti. The end.

Thursday, January 21, 2010

TIRAMISU FOR BREAKFAST EVERY DAY OF MY LIFE

I feel like I should rename this blog "Tiramisus I Have Known." Because that's quickly what this blog is going to become if the Bolognese don't stop throwing tiramisu at me. I'm not complaining, mind you.

As some of you may know, my favoritest dessert in the history of evar is tiramisu. One of my main goals for this semester is to go on a pilgrimage to Le Beccherie in Treviso, the birthplace of tiramisu. It will be the happiest day of my life, except for my wedding to Rahmbo. (IT WILL HAPPEN. You'll see. I'll seduce him with my tiramisu.)

A quick rundown on tiramisu. Basically you mix egg yolk, mascarpone and sugar. Then you take some eggwhites and mix it in to make the filling fluffy. You take savoiardi/ ladyfingers and dip them in a liquid of your choice, usually coffee or a liquor. You put the ladyfingers in a pan with high sides, put a layer of the custard on top, rinse and repeat until you fill the pan or run out. Then you refrigerate the delicious creature overnight. Once it's ready, you eat it and orgasm because tiramisu is the best dessert ever. (For what it's worth, I dip my ladyfingers in a mixture of coffee and kahlua.)

My first Italian tiramisu was last Wednesday. It was my housemate Giorgia's birthday and she made a tiramisu for dessert. Her tiramisu was delicious. The bottom layer of ladyfingers were soaked in coffee, the top in rum. The filling was fairly solid and thick, like cream cheese. She told me that I should have the leftovers for breakfast. Best breakfast ever.

Tonight, we had a cooking lesson with a professional chef! We made traditional biscotti with her (almonds, orange juice, and lemon rind), and she had already prepared a boatload of polenta. She also gave us something to try that she found at the bottom of her polenta bag. I have no idea what it was, but it looks like those long, brown seed pods you find in New York City parks in the fall. Anyway, this thing tasted like Parmesan cheese and figs at the same time. A miraculous product of nature. She had also prepared for us 1) Bolognese sauce 2) beef, peas, and tomato sauce stew 3) sauteed artichoke, mushrooms, carrots, zucchini, and potatoes and 4) a magical cheese that one traditionally mixes with polenta. It might actually be more orgasmic than tiramisu. I'll find out the name of this thing and I will blog about it forever. Stay tuned.

And for dessert? Oh, dessert. We had our biscotti, of course. And tiramisu. Loads of tiramisu. Mountains of tiramisu. Two bowls bigger than my head of tiramisu. Like some more traditional tiramisu recipes, the filling was a little runny. Our chef had dipped the savoiardi in brandy and sprinkled chocolate shavings on top. But here is where her brilliance lay: in between the savoiardi and the filling lay a layer of chocolate gelato. Chocolate gelato. Brilliant. Someone give this woman a Nobel Peace Prize. There were plenty of leftovers, so guess what I'm having for breakfast tomorrow? Yessssss.

Wednesday, January 20, 2010

Italian TV is Confusing, Strange

So, I've been watching this variety show with my room mates for about an hour. This show contained: a candid camera section; some lady walking up to David Beckham and groping him just to see how big his nuts are; a segment where an Eastern European woman dated different Italian guys she found on the Internet, exposing their misogyny and sexism; a segment where they tricked a woman into thinking she had gotten a parking ticket; a segment where the show paid for a woman to get plastic surgery and then made fun of her for it; a segment on three different patients going to China to get some sort of stem cell surgery (in Italy, you can perform stem cell research but no operations); and now a serious interview with a child prostitute. Mmhmm.

Monday, January 18, 2010

Seeing Green

So, basically, this article, "Therapists Report Increase in Green Disputes" by Leslie Kaufman, made me want to stick my finger down my throat. It's about couples who have been fighting more frequently and even getting divorced because of perceived differences in environmental values. Here's the opener:

Gordon Fleming is, by his own account, an environmentally sensitive guy.
He bikes 12 1/2 miles to and from his job at a software company outside Santa Barbara, Calif. He recycles as much as possible and takes reusable bags to the grocery store.
Still, his girlfriend, Shelly Cobb, feels he has not gone far enough.
Ms. Cobb chides him for running the water too long while he shaves or showers. And she finds it “depressing,” she tells him, that he continues to buy a steady stream of items online when her aim is for them to lead a less materialistic life.
Mr. Fleming, who says he became committed to Ms. Cobb “before her high-priestess phase,” describes their conflicts as good-natured — mostly.
But he refuses to go out to eat sushi with her anymore, he said, because he cannot stand to hear her quiz the waiters.
“None of it is sustainable or local,” he said, “and I am not eating cod or rockfish.”

Aw, poor widdle baby boomers can't agree on how to save the planet. Talk about first world problems. 

Green issues are so tough. There is just so much waste in the world and there's really no way to stop it. Looking at my desk right now, I see my computer--which may or may not be scrapped for parts eventually--my deoderant--completely unrecyclable--my glasses case, my pen, etc., etc. There's no way to preserve or save these things. Once they've been used, man, they've been used. Attitudes can be truly risible--take, for example, my boss from last summer, who bitched when he saw a receipt with unnecessary text at the bottom, and, when he went to file them, would tear off the unnecessary part and then bitch again about the waste. But sometimes all of this packaging is really unneccessary. For example, in Italy, they sell bananas in a bunch or in prepackaged plastic containers. I confess, I was lazy and bought some prepackaged bananas because I didn't feel like weighing and printing out a price sticker-thingy for the fresh ones, but all of that packaging was just such a waste. That plastic can never be reused. Also, in Italy, they don't recycle paper, and it always makes me wince a little bit to throw all of it out. 

Another problem I have with green issues is that, for the moment at least, it's a wealthy man's (or in this case, woman's) sport. The Obamas have really done a great thing with their garden--gardens are cheap and easy to maintain, but only if you have the space, time, and knowledge to do it. Also, think about the effect organic farming will have on the big food industries: do you think that, as more industrial farms switch to organic products, it will stop the exploitation of migrant workers? Hell no. If anything, it might accelerate the problem. So even if you're doing something good for the planet, you're not necessarily helping humanity. This constant politicization of every choice--from the food we eat to the clothes that we wear--is exhausting, tiresome, and helps very few people (except for the inventors laughing all the way to the bank). Every choice we make will hurt someone or waste something. Instead of going crazy and trying to be as self-sustaining as possible, we should try to find solutions, if they exist, that actually make sense.


Sunday, January 17, 2010

Do Not Wok


Okay, so, aside from that absolutely terrible pun, I made a pretty big mistake last night. I went to an Italian Chinese restaurant last night. 01/ 16 NEVER FORGET!!!!!!!!

All of the kids in my program were going to go to a certain restaurant, but because we hadn't made a reservation they couldn't take us. We then decided to split up. There's a Chinese restaurant near our program office so, just for funsies, my group decided to go there. Food in Italy is good. Cheap food in Italy is especially good. Chinese food is good. Chinese food is cheap. Ergo, Chinese food in Italy must be good. Right? Right?!

We got to the restaurant and there was a table set for eight. Great! Perfect! There was a "riservato" card on the table, but we just assumed that, like in most restaurants, it was put there to make the restaurant look more popular. And it was plenty popular--almost every table was full. Oh, I had dreams of delicious scallion pancakes and Chinese eggplant in chili sauce and chicken and scallions and and and... Well, we got the menu and none of that was on it. But I noticed that they had veal! Wow! Veal in a Chinese restaurant, how novel. Why don't I get the veal with ginger. Oh, I could just imagine it, veal in brown sauce with scallions and fresh ginger. Well, it took the waiter almost fifteen minutes to take our order. And a half hour to get our drinks. And another half hour to get our appetizers. And another half hour for our food to actually come. And when it finally did come, we almost didn't care what it tasted like. And it tasted like salt and oil. Oil. Tons of it. In the States even shitty Chinese food tastes like something. You know, something other than salt and oil. My dish had salty veal with pickled ginger, because the meat clearly wasn't salty enough. So we paid about six euro (about nine bucks) each for shitty Chinese food and I dare you to find a worse place Stateside.

All was not lost. Because we were all still hungry, we went to a caffe nearby. I got a dessert called a casetta. It's orange sponge cake covered in a layer of cream, wrapped up in a layer of bright green marzipan, and topped with almonds and a maraschino cherry. Heaven in my mouth. I almost forgot about the veal.

Ciao tutti!

I am now Time's Person of the Year 2006! I have joined the ranks of the many who have personal blogs.

The title, "Ceci e Patitine" is a bit of a pun: Ceci is the Italian word for chick pea. In Italian, my name (Cecilia) is pronounced "Chechilia" with a soft "ch." My nickname, naturally, is Ceci, but in Italian it sounds like "chechi," or chick pea. When I introduce myself as Ceci a lot of Italians get really confused. Why would anyone name their kid "chick pea"?

The title was inspired by a delicious chick pea and potato soup I had at Osteria dell'Orso in Bologna. That's where I am right now, but I'll most likely keep the blog up long after I'm gone. I probably won't put pictures up of Bologna because my Internet connection is kind of terrible. Alas.

Ci vediamo! (See you soon!)