Pilates class: A good 'ol fashioned ass-kicking.

I recently signed up for a Pilates class at the E-ville health club, which means that every Tuesday and Thursday I get to make a crockpot dinner and rush home after work to change into gym clothes - not simultaneously, however. (If it were, eating crockpot stew would easily win out over exercise). Hilariously, the class consists of me, a kinky-haired, fragile-boned, new-agey instructor in her 50s, and five or six interchangeable middle-aged mom types. They show up in flannel pajama pants with drawstrings at the waist. Which is awesome.
See the cute little cartoon girl in her perfect Pilates position? That's not what I look like in class. Sure, I can hold my own, thanks to my limited experience with the "Pilates for Weight Loss DVD (alas, I found the title to be fairly misleading). I look like an approximation of Cartoon Girl, with knees shaking and bent, posture slightly slouched and my neck straining to hold my head up during the ab work. But the lights are soothingly dim and there are chanting CDs and cute foam-rubber mats for everyone - it all makes me feel very Hollywood. Now E-ville just needs a Coffee Bean and Tea Leaf, so I can stride fashionably out of the gym in my chic workout gear, toting my yoga mat, hop into my Mercedes and go buy a skinny latte. Or not.

Jewelry always triumphs over the herb garden.

I took my Gram and Aunt to the Madison Garden Expo this weekend, with the best of intentions for getting info on planting peonies and daffodils. Instead, I got sidetracked by the flower art/bead booth, and came home with this gorgeous hand-beaded bracelet. No surprise there.

Kate Moss, eat a triscuit. Evelyn Nesbit was here first.

I'm obsessed with Paula Uruburu's book American Eve, which chronicles the stormy life of Evelyn Nesbit, a chorus girl and artist's model in the early twentieth century. Evelyn became the adolescent paramour of wealthy New York architect Stanford White; years later her jealous husband murdered White in full view of a glittering crowd at Madison Square Garden.
There are plenty of photos in the book, and to me, Evelyn's beauty is a mixture of timeless and confusing - in some pictures her celebrated looks seem questionable, perhaps tailored to the aesthetic eye of one hundred years ago. But some, like the portrait on the above book cover, are so stunning, I don't doubt that Evelyn could rival the overdone, over-hyped models of today. The book is a gorgeous slice of history; like Evelyn's winsome eyes, it leaves a lasting imprint.

Style Icon: Tuesday Weld

I'm not a blonde, and I have no desire to be. But if I were among the fairer complected, I would want to look like Tuesday Weld. I grew up watching "Dobie Gillis" reruns on Nick at Nite, and the comely ways of dream girl Thalia Menninger were much admired by my chubby-10-year-old-in-tightrolled-jeans persona. Of course, Tuesday was a little more risque than Thalia (I mean, check out that bikini)! A romance with Elvis, an academy award nomination - I'll forgive her for being married to Dudley Moore (eew).

My Love Affair With Etsy

I'm loving the inexpensive jewelry on Etsy.com. I'm a fan of all things handmade, but this stuff is really unique and gorgeous. I'm ready to bust out my credit card for this pink beauty - very mod and geometric, yet delicate and feminine. And $9?! I'm sold.

Style Icon: Pattie Boyd

Ok, I know I'm definitely not the first girl to be captivated by Pattie Boyd's English dollybird look, but I can't stop raving. Those bangs! That fabulous black eyeliner! I recently finished Pattie's book Wonderful Tonight, a good read but admitedly, rather shoddy writing. Aside from the juicy intrigue (George had an affair with Ringo's wife?!), the real gem of this book is the photo collection; I can't get enough of Pattie's mod minidresses and berets. Check out the knee-high sandals, fresh off the plane from 1967 San Francisco. I recently cut bangs in the style of Pattie's blunt, eye-grazing mane, and rocked the homemade crocheted beret - alas, a pesky cowlick and a decidedly stout, un-mod frame keeps me from too closely imitating the playful style of Ms. Boyd. (Sigh).