MOLI View: Fashion & Design :: The place to be

Hats Off to Toulouse
I found more, a lot more, in Toulouse. I feel like a bit of an ass jumping the gun like that last week, but hey, live and learn, right? As I live, I am learning and what I've learned, to no surprise, is, the longer you stay in a place if your eyes are open, the more you learn about it.

I discovered a pair of vintage stores called Groucho that has way better stuff than Le Grenier D'Anais (sorry L.G.D'A). The Groucho store on Rue Cujas has fab selections of vintage jeans, coveralls, T-shirts, blouses, shoes, and boots, and the other on Rue Peyrolieres has a lot of designer vintage couture, like Chanel, Givenchy, Valentino, and more. Upon entering, I noted a black, beaded, fringed flapper dress in mint condition for a whopping 1,500 euros (gasp). It was hung high up so even my grimy hands couldn't touch it, and you can see why. They have lots of Victorian undergarments, hats, jewelry, bags, and nice shoes as well.

Kilostock on Rue Peyrolieres is a large and somewhat overwhelming thrift/vintage/costume shop with racks from floor to ceiling amass with blouses, T-shirts, and tops for five euros, a bin of scarves for one euro a piece, as well as really intense prom dresses from the '80s and '90s, kids' clothes, military wear, wedding wear, and, from the ages, a plethora of cute sunglasses, sneakers, and shoes. There are bins of hats, wigs, and ladies' bags. It's a place that you have to have the patience to dig through.

Nearby, I found a hat artisan (chapellerie) called Idée En Tête (pictured) also on Rue Cujas, and I was losing my mind it was so great. There was a hat that looked like a foamy cup of cappuccino on a plate; headbands with flowers and feathers, some with veils attached; and a pillbox hat with bizarre arty, wiry, seemingly floating swirls hovering above it. She also had tiny hats (my favorite). The artisan herself makes hats to order so there are various hat accoutrements around for you to pick through (feathers, flowers, etc). I saw a woman coming from a wedding wearing one of these the next day. It was three shades of pink and at least three textures as well. Tres jolie!

Sun Bell Store, another store or I should say stores I discovered, though not vintage, has three locations on Rue Cujas: a women's clothing store, a men's clothing store, and a men's shoe store. Again everything was on sale. In the men's store, they have Cheap Monday and Fred Perry and lots of Euro brands. The shoe/sneaker company I found and like a lot is called Shmoove.

So I learned my lesson: Don't jump to a conclusion till you dig in deeper. And speaking of digging in deeper, another thing I found is that all the homeless young people here have dogs -- off the leash dogs. Off the leash makes me crazy, I get so scared for them; I don't care how well trained they are, they could get hit by a car -- god forbid. Still, the Toulouse homeless must-have fashion accessory is a dog -- off the leash. I am seriously not being facetious, it's a just an observation. I guess they're keeping the "loose" in Toulouse.

Theo Kogan is the MOLI View's contributing editor for Fashion & Design. Her THEOlogy column appears Tuesdays and Thursdays.
Tiles From Morocco
fantastic tiles from popham design. Founded by husband-and-wife team Caitlin and Samuel Dowe-Sandes, popham design produces a seriously incredible line of tiles (oh how I love the chevron tiles), all designed from their studio in Marrakech. Originally based in LA, the Dowe-Sandes family dreamed of starting their own design venture and when they moved to northern Africa, they decided to make their dreams come true.
Nothing Toulouse
Unlike in Halle, Germany, people in Toulouse, France, have a lot more style. It's a real city, with an eclectic mix of fashion. There's a definite Moroccan flavor, a little Paris, a little Florida, and a lot Toulouse in the melting pot of fashion and people here.

In Toulouse right now in every store, there are sales (soldes in French) from 20 percent to 70 percent off. They are everywhere. From Sonia Rykiel to C+A to the side-street cheapie store, soldes, soldes, soldes. But with the dollar at a lovely all-time low here, even a fantastic sale is not necessarily a deal for us New York people who, in our minds, convert everything into dollars. We, the fashion obsessed, must find the fashion finds wherever we go.

There is a Wednesday market at the Capitol (Town Hall) Square here, but similar to many NYC street markets, it had a lot of same-y same stuff, albeit in a Toulouse way, such as genie-style pants and shorts. Yes folks, the MC Hammer low-crotch genie pant is in full swing here. There were generic tables of cheap jewelry and sunglasses, but as cheap as 5 euros seems for a shitty pair of sunglasses, when I can get them on the street in NY for $5, it just doesn't do it for me.

Then the thrift store search began. The overall best one I have seen so far is Le Grenier D'anais, which means "the attic of Anais," serving you clothes for women and men from 1900 to the 1990s, including men and women's accessories, gowns, costumes, coats, wedding dresses, uniforms, costumes hats, shoes -- you name it. Prices are totally fair and it makes more sense to spend 20 euros on a dress here, where you can get quality sweet duds closer to, if not totally, one of a kind, especially when compared to any of the MC Hammer pants at the market. I am going to go back to Le Grenier D'anais and continue my search, since the very sweet gal working (she was wearing an antique white slip as a dress) kicked me out (nicely of course) because she was going to lunch. Lunchtime is one to two hours here and meal times are taken very seriously. I would never want to stand in the way of a lady and her lunch.

Theo Kogan is the MOLI View's contributing editor for Fashion & Design. Her THEOlogy column appears Tuesdays and Thursdays. Every other Tuesday, she answers your questions with her tough-love advice. Send your questions via e-mail or here on MOLI.
A Comforting Discovery
In the deep woods searching for a lost little boy a month ago, he subject of beds came up. We were trudging through the rocky terrain in the pitch dark (except for flashlights and headlamps, feeble in that kind of primordial, moonless night). "I can't wait to get back to my bed," said the woman to my left. We'd been deployed late to do the night shift and had eight hours to clear an area the size of Liechtenstein, if Liechtenstein was a mess of boulders and ravines with more coyotes you'd care to know about. Our quadriceps were screaming.

So when she said "bed," I suddenly got dead tired. But one of the rules of search and rescue is that you never complain. It's like a fireman saying, "God it's so hot," in the middle of a five-alarmer. Another rule: assume your subject is alive and that you will find him. Do not entertain thoughts that what you are doing is futile. So as we clambered down to the edge of the black lake we did not want to think the toddler was in, we naturally started talking about beds.

"And what kind of bed do you have?" I asked, to make the segue.
"A Malm," she said. "A king-sized birch-veneer platform bed with shelves that slide in and out of the headboard."

At three in the morning I couldn't quite grasp the concept of sliding shelves (a new feature), but I know the Malm. It's from IKEA and popular among those of us who love design but have bigger visions than budgets.

"Oh," I said, as we heard wild howling in the distance. "I'm considering buying that bed myself."

"Really?" she said. We came to an 7-foot drop along the shoreline. Pretend-casually, we swept the water below with our flashlights to rule out the worst. Nothing there.

"I had a great bed," I said as we lowered ourselves down to get a closer look. I smelled rotting wood, that fishy, gasoline-y lakeshore smell, felt water seep into my boots. "It was Pottery Barn. It was so sturdy, so solid."

"Sounds great," she said, as we scaled the bank back up. "What happened to it?"

"Had to get rid of it. It was the officially designated Marital Bed from the Marriage that Imploded."

"Got it," she said. "Like sleeping in the scene of the crime."

I was quiet. I was thinking how we all make these grand hopeful gestures, like buying beds, over and over again. As if we're obtaining a new island of safety to hide in, just us. It's nearly unbearable, such a sweet sense of domestic optimism, given the odds. Just like toddlers lost in the woods at night, statistically so many more couples don't make it than do. That's got to help the market.

"Sorry," my teammate said. "Shouldn't say crime, right? Not here."

"Well, you're right though. It was, really."

We covered the next 30 acres in weary silence, trudging down the bottom of a ravine, hoping we didn't find the kid there. We got to the last part of our area, a wide open field, and the cloudy murk of the night sky suddenly parted to give us moonlight. Cheered, we started up the conversation again.

"I went from antique-y cast iron with my first to this super modern thing with my third," she said, meaning beds and husbands. She flipped open her compass, took a bearing, and motioned us towards the last stretch.

"What about your second?"

"Honestly? I don't remember," she said. "It must not have been a big one, or I'd remember the bed at least, right?"

The next morning, when we'd gone back to our beds (her Malm, my temporary flumpy mattress and weak-backed boxspring), the toddler was found unharmed. They showed a picture of the reunited family: exhausted, pale father, weepy-looking mother, and rosy-cheeked toddler without a scratch on his wandering face, all lined up - in bed. It was a Malm.

Jana Martin is the MOLI View's Design Contributor. Her blog, Making Room, runs every Wednesday.
Lady in Red, Part Deux
We all love an ongoing drama. Lady in Red wrote to THEOlogy back in December '07 and, lucky for us, has written again for advice.

Here's a recap of the first letter:

Dear Theo,

I got involved w/a friend of mine when he was in a bad relationship. He finally broke up with this girl after being with her for two years, and he moved away. When I told him how I felt about him, he got defensive. Can you go from having great sex with a friend to having a relationship, giving it time, etc.? He's 11 years younger than me. And I realize he probably has some growing to do, seeing as how I'm 37.

-Lady in Red

Dear Lady,

That's a hefty age difference, which can most certainly work, depending on the person. Casual sex segueing into a relationship can also work. Yet I have a feeling this guy may have some oats to sew. Are you aware that you could also end up as his "rebound," which isn't likely to last? To put it bluntly, if he was cheating on his last girlfriend with you, he will most likely cheat on you too. Could you handle that? I say smoke 'em while you got 'em. Enjoy the sex, and find someone for a relationship who isn't a cheater.

And here is Part Deux:
Seven months later, July 2008

Dear Theo,

Okay, here it is. I'm writing again because I am ready for the harsh truth. Or I am trying to be ready for it. I am seeing the 26-year-old guy once again and the sex is still great. He moved away and now moved back, but he is still seeing the "rebound" girl that he met while he was away. She moved back with him, but doesn't live with him. My friends tell me not to ask him about her, but I believe honesty is a good thing. (Some of my friends are also not supportive of my seeing him).

I am not certain where this is going, but I need some advice. I still like him and realize that he may not be being honest with her either.

-Lady in Red

Dear Lady In Red,

I think you have come back to me because deep inside you know you are being self destructive, but at the same time you are having a good time so why stop, right? I don't know how much this hurt you the first time, but only you know if you can take it. I will say that often when good friends disapprove, it's something to pay attention to. Remember, your friends will be there for you when he is with the new rebound girl or whomever else he is sleeping with. You can ask him anything you want, and he may answer with what he thinks you want to hear. Or perhaps he will tell you the truth and you will filter out what you want to hear. Or maybe he'll be truthful and you will too, who knows? All I can say is the sex better be worth the shit storm that may arrive later. I hope that you got the truth you were looking for. It's your choice to take my advice or not, but you asked for it. Most importantly, use condoms.

Theo Kogan is the MOLI View's contributing editor for Fashion & Design. Her THEOlogy column appears Tuesdays and Thursdays. Every other Tuesday, she answers your questions with her tough-love advice. Send your questions via e-mail or here on MOLI.
ShowCase: LILYPAD
LILYPAD, A Floating Ecopolis for Ecological Refugees.
Lash Out!
Beauty guru Soul Lee claims that yes, Soul is her real first name. And after a few minutes in her warm, congenial, attitude-free presence, you will probably agree that it suits her well. Soul, a longtime eyebrow and eyelash expert for the Japanese company Shu Uemura, actually makes the pursuit of the perfect arch and lush lashes seem like an art form, rather than just a high-maintenance form of vanity.

And here comes the big reveal: I myself wear fake eyelashes. Not just on big nights out or when I'm being photographed, but nearly all of the time. I live in them: I take long luxurious baths in them, I shower after the gym in them, I even wear them when I get facials or when I'm swimming in the ocean. And here's the secret that might surprise you: A lot of models and celebrities that make regular women feel inadequate in any number of ways wear them too. Once you know about them, they are pretty easy to spot on others.

But these aren't the 1970s version of fake lashes that come in a little $5 box that you apply in an easy strip with the included glue over your own lash line. Oh, no. What Soul does and what I'm addicted to now are a totally new kind of eyelash extension that originated either in Europe or Asia (the debate continues). I'm talking about real hair or silk hair (in a matching shade to your natural color) individual faux lashes that are applied like micro-surgery to your own. One at a time, a fake hair lash is adhered to each of your real lashes (the glue never touches your skin) with the same glue used to seal surgical incisions.

It may sound like a slightly sci-fi process, and it is time-consuming: about 90 minutes when Soul does it, and she's the best. But eyelash extensions are completely painless. You feel nothing. You lie on Soul's comfy reclining chair with your eyes closed while she does the application. You can even take a nap, the process is that unobtrusive. And when you open your eyes -- voila! You have maximum mascara-length lashes that look like they are your very own. When the extensions are applied properly, they are weightless and natural feeling, and they stay on your lashes, depending on how well you take care of them, for up to two full months.

It's crazy, right? But as someone who travels nearly two weeks out of every month, people are constantly asking me what my secrets are to looking good on the run, and eyelash extensions is the single biggest one. Think about it -- no mascara ever. You wake up with them, you go to sleep with them, they are a part of you. I just add some blush and lip gloss, and I can be ready for a fancy dinner event in 15 minutes (which is typically how much time I have when traveling).

But I cannot fudge this: It is a huge indulgence. One visit to Soul Lee's Shu Uemura Atelier inside of the Completely Bare Spa in Barneys New York on Madison Avenue costs $400 for a first-time application and about $200 for each maintenance visit after that. But I actually love seeing Soul, she's so positive and validating. And she never spills secrets on her celebrity clients, though I've seen plenty coming and going.

It's true, I can't really fully justify it; that's why it's an indulgence. But it makes me feel more stylish, more confident, and more fabu-lash (ha, ha). And ironically, with eyelash extensions, I can act like more of natural woman, even if I'm not one. I look at it this way: At least I save money by never having to buy another tube of mascara.

Cathay Che is the MOLI View's contributing editor for Travel & Leisure. Today she's trading places with Fashion & Design blogger Theo Kogan, who writes about Berlin in Travel & Leisure. Usually, she posts every Tuesday and Thursday.
prêt a portobello
Trips across the pond are now a heavy hit in the wallet, thanks to the weakening US dollar. But fashion addicts are in luck, as two of London's major retail draws are becoming available stateside. That's right: In the time it'll take you to save up enough cash to shack up at St. Martin's Lane in London, Topshop will have already hit New York's Soho nabe, enabling you to max out your credit card without the hassle of a seven-hour flight. Even better, prêt a portobello has officially landed on the Internet, bringing London's famous Portobello Road Market to your laptop and mine.