Bootstrapping Yourself

Rockin my Members Only boots with the bootstraps

Here in America, we have the ability to pull ourselves up by our bootstraps, and be whatever we want to be. What I want to be is a hardcore stylista. Lucky me, I can be! My latest DIY fashion project was making some great new studded bootstraps. These can be wrapped around any pair of boots to add automatic motorcycle-gang street cred to your outfit. I had searched online for the straps I wanted, but most involved chains, the wrong sort of studs, and a high price tag (think $50 and up) for the leather goods and shipping. I came up with the idea of fashioning my own from some pyramid-studded belts.

Hey There, Stud

I found two similar to this at forever21 for around $5 each. Check discount stores and cheap accessory shops for yours. I did surgery with scissors and a hot glue gun to move the buckle down so there was no “blank” space between it and the studs, and then wrapped it in an X around a couple of my pairs of boots. I figured out where I’d need a few new holes punched, and then cut off the excess leather. Et Voila! New, badass bootstraps for $10 and 10 minutes of work.

Now, cut up a men’s t-shirt, throw on some shorts and tights, and you’re off!

Dancetastic

So a few months ago I wrote at length about my new dance pole purchase. Not only do I own and enjoy it (despite the serious slipperyness issue that comes with new X-poles), but I am enrolled in twice-weekly pole classes at Body & Pole in Soho. My instructor is AMAZING. Kyra has been dancing for basically her whole life, and she moves with so much strength and grace, plus, she’s fun and pretty so really she’s got it goin’ on!

Thusfar, I am happily covered in bruises, and learning tons of new things all the time. Currently, there is nothing sexy about this sport as it pertains to my participation. I make faces, hurt muscles, and fall over. That said, when I look at the intermediate and advanced girls who have been at it for six months, or a year, I get very excited for my future prospects. I am absolutely sticking to it. Check out Body & Pole in NYC, and tell them I sent you- after all, I could use an NP style discount or something!

Clean Up Your Act

Clean It Up

I hate scents. I don’t like anything to smell like anything. So, I have a very hard time choosing beauty products. No perfume for me, sorry Kim K, I’m sure your new eau de you is lovely, but scents give me headaches. Candles, cleaning products, lotions, almost anything that smells like anything other than clean human is just not going to work for me.

Also, my hair is mad at me because it’s winter. I understand that I could go get some Kerestase and be happy again, but my wallet would never forgive me. So, I went on a drugstore shampoo hunt. I do like the John Frieda line of products by hair color (and it is perhaps telling that I have the blonde, brunette, and redhead lines in my shower currently, since we all know I can’t keep one hair color for more than a few months!). The only problem is, anytime you get into a routine with hair products, you hit a plateau. Your hair gets used to it, or it builds up, and you need a new set of ingredients to clean out whatever muck has been left behind and restore you to life. So, starting at square one, I checked out everything the drugstore had to offer.

I came upon some unattractive, brown, squat and squarish bottles labeled as belonging to the North American Hemp Company. Upon further investigation I found that their product was natural, and free of almost all of the scary environment-killing and cancer causing ingredients found in salon shampoos. I took a sniff, and although it was lightly scented, I did not die, so I bought it. I chose the smoothing shampoo and conditioner, as I have no interest in volume, and I find that “moisturizing” is code for greasy and heavy. Each bottle was priced at about $10, although the conditioner was inexplicably on sale for %50 off.

I took them both home and experimented, and thus far, I am quite pleased. My hair came out light and clean, not frizzy or static-y, and after myself and Alexandra both doing a sniff-test, we feel it pretty much just smells like hair. My suggestion would be to go try it out, and save yourself a dose of chemicals- we already get more than enough of those through food and walking around outdoors.

A New Sort of FailBlog?

I know, I know, I’m slower than a speeding snail on this blogging situation, and I owe you all some serious posts. I have not forgotten.

Life is determined to get in the way! First it was the fun things, like Thanksgiving at home, and Art Basel in Miami (pics later) and then the not fun things, like finals, and re-registration for class.

I still love you all

Keep the faith- back ASAP

-S

Happy Turkey Week!

This will make for a very happy turkey day indeed, especially if you celebrate it in a strip club.

I’m on “vacation” for the week of Thanksgiving. It’s not so much the allure of the destination itself as the fact that I get to go spend time with the family and my beloved pupster, Lucas. Anyway, I’ve got plenty of things to be thankful for, so I’m going to need a whole week to appreciate them.

I thought about writing an article on how to cut cost for t-givs, but let’s be serious, turkey, stuffing, potatoes, and cranberries are must-haves. Your family probably has tons of other favorites too. This just isn’t the place to cut corners! I’d be far more worried about your inappropriate Uncle Larry belching the alphabet at the table, or finding the little cousins passed out under the table after they sneak a glass of wine. Just relax, sit back, and enjoy the show!

Have a great Thanksgiving, remember to be happy for all the things you have going on in your life (if you’re logging on to read our site, you’re definitely already better off than most of the rest of the world.) NP girls love to have lighthearted fun, and I know I’m looking forward to the upcoming holiday party season in the city, but all the social scenes and material goods in the world are just the sprinkles on top of the other great stuff- mostly comprised of family and friends.

OK, even I think that came off a little corny, but I’d like to thank our readers, and remind them to wear pants that expand on thanksgiving day.

See you back here next week!

XO

Work it Out, Girl!

Today, you’re getting a really long article. This is both because I am full of stories, and because next week, I’m going to ditch you for a whole week. But you’ll read about that on Monday, so don’t get too sad yet. Here’s a nice long one to tide you over;

These girls clearly all work out. Note that I am not in the picture, as I don't do that.

Anyone who knows me knows that I will do just about anything to avoid working out in a traditional gym. I hate to get tired and dirty, and I only run if I am being chased, or if I happen to see Robert Pattinson jogging past me. I thought I was being such a grown-up last year when I joined my local Crunch outpost, and hired my lovely trainer, a large, ripped man with dreads named Tyrone to kick my butt into shape. I specifically requested a large, scary dude to train me, instead of one of the adorable and peppy (and also extremely toned) young lady trainers that the head of the gym suggested. Why, you ask? Simple, I have NO motivation to work out. Ever. I needed the fear of G-d put into me just to get my butt moving. I knew I’d get annoyed with a girl telling me what to do (sorry, not sexist, just saying, I’m really not scared of those girls.)

So, off Tyrone and I went on our training program, complete with him calling me HOURS ahead of training sessions to remind me that the T-Money training program is not a sprint, it’s a marathon, and I WILL be there or be killed. This was good, I showed up, and I *mostly* did what I was supposed to. I complained a LOT, but as long as he promised a 5-minute back massage at the end of the hour, I cooperated. Then, Madoff effed over about a zillion people, myself included, and I decided personal training was no longer in the budget. At the end of my package, I left Tyrone and Crunch behind. I didn’t miss the 8-block walk in the middle of winter. It’s not the distance as much as the snow and sleet I had to brave to get there. What do I look like, a mailman?

Next came Warriors. It was AMAZING. Alex Fell and Ruben Belliard at Warrior Fitness Boot Camp kicked my butt from here to saturday three days a week for three months. Except when I “had” to go to the hamptons, or i got sick, or I was sleepy. But mostly, I showed up, and did what they said. Reason being; they are both large, scary former Marines. When they say Jump, you might complain, but you can either do it or be punished. As with most privileges, there is a significant cost to their program as well. There is no question in my mind that it is a far better deal than many workout programs, especially personal trainers, because when averaged out, the cost per session is far lower.

Depending on the package you purchase, an hour with the boys in their gym in Harold Square might run you about $40, as compared to perhaps $120 for a personal training session. The activities themselves are much more entertaining than repetitive work on gym machinery, and they work parts of your body that standard weight machines simply cannot. Example? I can scale a 6 foot wall without hand or footholds. True story, yo. There are monkey bars, which you think are a cute grade-school flashback, until you realize how HARD they are to work now that you’re bigger! There are tunnels and tires and weight bars, and stairs. Endless stairs. Woven in with the cardio and the strength training, you still get WAY more one on one attention than you ever wanted (don’t try to hide, they’ll find you,) and probably the best work-out you’ve ever had. Plus, if you show up at more or less the same times throughout the week, you get to know your fellow warriors, and come to support each other through the process.

Despite my innate hatred of breaking a sweat for athletic purposes, the guys at WFBC did a fantastic job, and I always left feeling like I had made a great accomplishment. In fact, after class, I was usually so hyped up that I bypassed the direct subway to my apartment and walked the mile and a half back to cool down. Unfortunately, due to the residual effects of the economic situation I’m in now, I had to leave them after my three months were up, and have not had the opportunity to sign up again. I will someday, for sure! Until then, I’ll just wear my WFBC uniform shirts and feel like a badass. [Oh, and by the way, despite their ability to turn on the official and professional bad-ass-edness during class, Alex and Ruben are both friendly, not scary, and willing to create a workout program that will fit anyone's needs. Case-in-point? I have bad joints and asthma, and they always found things for me to do without hurting myself. If you join, tell them I sent you, I could use a free class or two!]

So, where does this leave me now? Well, we know I’m not going back to Crunch, it’s too far away, and walking into the sea of machinery on my own just makes me sleepy, not motivated. WFBC is out of reach at the moment, and my 16-unit walkup apartment building doesn’t exactly have an exercise room. (or laundry, or a doorman, or a package room, or a lobby, and it’s been covered in giant scaffolding for a year that blocks all of my windows.. but hey, who’s counting.) I hate all gyms anyway, but there are a couple of things I like. Despite my lack of any particular skill, I love dancing. Just rocking out with friends in the club is fun, not so tiring, and calorie burning when NOT coupled with many sugary cocktails. I also enjoy activities that do not require me to wear pants. (this doesn’t mean I’m going nude, just that I own an excessive amount of what one might call “bootie shorts,” considering they’re pretty much only socially acceptable on Halloween.) Ok, so where can I go with these facts?

TA DAHHHH! Behold, the X-Pole. This is just about to become the latest addition to my hamster-cage of an NYC apartment. Taking up a very small amount of space, and for the cost of around three months at a gym, or three personal training sessions, the X-Pole is just, as they say in Minnesota, a Heck-uv-a deal. In the UK, pole dancing is already looked upon as just as legitimate a form of personal exercise as gymnastics or yoga. There doesn’t need to be a sexual connotation affiliated with it. Instead. the pole offers a chance to work on your balance, tone, flexibility, and strength. Like WFBC, pole training works muscles that won’t get attention in repetitive workouts on stationary equipment. The use of your own body for resistance is more natural, and the strength you acquire will be throughout your arms, core, legs, and back without having to worry whether you did enough “reps” on any one given station in the circuit training facilities. Let’s be honest, sexual or not, pole dancing is also an excellent party trick to be pulled out if you find yourself doing late-night at 1Oak and you’re occupying one of the back tables. (There are poles. Not that I’ve checked.)

Although I have no motivation for repetitive activity on machines or with weights in a gym, I’m pretty excited about this. It will give me something to do when I am home in the evenings, or on rainy weekends, or hibernating as I sometimes do when the weather gets too awful to venture out in the winter. Aside from the initial investment, I need no additional equipment, and although  I can optionally attend classes at several venues in NYC from $20-$40 each, or purchase DVDs of pole lessons, I needn’t do either of those if I choose not to. Self teaching is made very easy with the help of YouTube, and other websites that have gathered together lessons from pros and amateurs alike. All I really need is some good music, and perhaps a Redbull to get me going. There isn’t really a “wrong” way to train on the pole, so long as you are safe, and careful. If you make up something that looks good, you’ve either stumbled on a trick that you would’ve been taught in class, or you just invented something totally new and different.

My pole will be portable. This means that I can install it with no harm or damage to my apartment floor or ceiling. With several height-adjusting sections, I can use it on any ceiling ranging from 8-11 feet or somewhere thereabouts. Should I really get the desire, I can even pack it up and take it with me on a trip. In our old apartment in Madison, Wisconsin, Kristie and I had installed a peek-a-boo pole. Don’t get one of those. For around a hundred bucks, you can purchase a great prop for leaning on and taking photos with your friends before you go out. If you want to do anything else, you can’t. The pole falls over if you try to spin, jump, or invert, rendering it pretty much useless. I’ve done a LOT of research, and I know that X-pole is the ideal brand for a non-permanent installation. Plus, I spoke with them and they were really helpful in figuring out what configuration I need to order, and how to best start off as a pole beginner.

And so, my dear NP’s, this begins a new workout chapter in my life. My goal, of course, is to come out looking like a Victoria’s Secret Angel, while still eating cookies and pasta whenever I want. This is only chapter one, as I’ll be keeping y’all posted on the hijinx to come. I’m hoping that by the time I return from Minnesota, my X-pole will be eagerly awaiting me, at the concierge desk in my sister’s building, what with me not having one, and all. Stay tuned!

Dollar to Pound Conversions

Beware the Dollar Menu

Ok, sure, this seems obvious, but I know I get roped into deals every now and then. Subway has its five-dollar foot longs, Mickey D’s offers a dollar menu, and even Chipotle guarantees a huge, filling meal for a few bucks. I know we all claim to avoid fast food like the plague, but I also know that all of my friends secretly eat it. Sometimes, the concept of cooking or going out is just too much work. But, consider this; the less the food costs, the worse it is for you. Hot dogs and burgers for a dollar are probably not even made of recognizable meat, ditto the processed turkey or ham in the sub sandwich. Chipotle’s ingredients aren’t inherently bad, but piling on the sour cream, cheese, and guac isn’t exactly going to help you LOSE weight.

I know how hard it is to make myself go to the grocery store- then, I buy a few fruits and veggies, and pay $50 for the privilege. I’m not going to totally stop sneaking fast food items anytime soon, but I am more mindful of the fact that my recession-busting bargain might become waistband-busting too, if I’m not careful!

The Nouveau Trousseau

Dinner party at my place! Save the Date (for about 5 years)!

While I may not have literally been born with a silver spoon in my mouth, I was raised using them at every holiday and family occasion. Our mother, grandmother, and great-grandmother all chose at the time of their marriages to have the same silver pattern for all of their flatware and serving pieces, so that they have amassed a large collection of interchangeable silverware. It has long been understood that this collection, along with larger serving pieces, tea service, sets of china, crystal drink ware and bowls, and all manner of heirloom tabletop paraphernalia would one day be bequeathed to Alexandra and myself.

Well, with the help of  a Ponzi scheme and a terrible economy, some of our family homes have been downsized slightly sooner than anticipated. This meant that rather than relying on our grandmother’s several lovely cleaning women to polish and store our future silver for us while she continued to use it to lavishly entertain, we would have to pack it up and move it unceremoniously to the basement of our parents home for storage until it was time for us to take possession. When I beheld the wealth of table service items soon to be at my disposal, I got so excited. What little girl wouldn’t love to know that she finally can hold (and use) the pretty crystal stemware, shine her own silver until she can see her reflection, and admire the beautiful china patterns her great-grandparents laid on their table? I  was totally ready to pack it all up and ship it to NYC, to start entertaining post-haste.

The one thing holding me back? My apartment right now is slightly less than ideal for hosting dinner parties. I can’t imagine putting eight whole people in it. I actually can’t imagine putting eight of anything in it. I limit myself to four of each plate and glass I own now, never mind having a china pantry! My coffee table works very well for holding my computer, being my makeup station, and setting whatever dinner I’ve come up with for myself on as I watch Gossip Girl, but I’m not sure it has room for myself and half-a-dozen friends. And so, as my glorified dorm room is slightly less than ready for my Nouveau Trousseau, my mother will be the keeper of the goods until I (hopefully) grow up, get married, and find a china cupboard worthy of storing all of it. Oh, and Mom, don’t worry, even when I’m hosting the holidays, you’re more than welcome to cook, clean, and serve as always. I’ll totally help. Maybe.