#StylishPittsburgh

photo credit: Niki Whittle

Whew! I'm still kind of catching my breath here, but let me catch you up on some exciting bloggy things that have happened during my blogging hiatus. The above picture, was taken in May. (May!) That's when I met Niki Whittle of the style blog, Style, Studs and Lace. (Niki!) She's a British transplant in Pittsburgh (!), she's a professional personal stylist (!), she's a fellow WHIRL Magazine Style File alum (see it here!), and she's one of the most masterful net-workers I know. I've only known this snazzy Brit for three months now, but I can already tell she's a fellow kindred spirit. 

“Kindred spirits are not so scarce as I used to think. It's splendid to find out there are so many of them in the world."    

-  Anne, from the book, Anne of Green Gables by L.M. Montgomery

Niki proposed a project that I just couldn't say no to. In spite of all the stuff going on in my life, I made time. She called it #StylishPittsburgh, "a campaign to celebrate and share Pittsburgh's fantastic sense of style" ...and she started out by interviewing and high-lighting little, old me on her blog. Which was an incredible honor. I'd be honored if you read my interview here.

So that was May (May!) but, yesterday, Niki, with the help of Tori Mistick of Wear. Wag. Repeat. Blog, (and serious marketing genius)  got our councilman Dan Gilman to make a proclamation in Pittsburgh. (!) Yesterday, July 28, 2015 was #StylishPittsburgh Day! Read the Post-Gazette article here. 

With councilman Dan Gilman. photo credit: unknown

 I attended the city council meeting to support Niki and Tori, who did all the heavy lifting with the #stylishpittsburgh Day. I was joined by my pal Liz Petoniak and some new friends that I look forward to getting to know better: Belle of the Burgh ,  Yes, Wear That!, and Tribune-Review fashion writer, JoAnne Harrop.

Just us Girls. photo credit: Good Samaritan

Niki and Me from Instagram

#OOTD from instagram

 Pittsburghers, look sassy. (sassy?)  I'm looking for you and if you cut the mustard, (did she say, mustard?)  I'll take a street fashion picture of you and post it on the #StylishPittsburgh facebook page - that's right, I'm an admin now!

Okay, I'm out of breath again, so that's all for now. Look for a post from me soon. I've missed you!

 Your Bosom Friend from Pittsburgh,

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Cherry Blossom Girl

 

photo credit: Joshua Franzos

At the moment, things are a bit hectic in my life. I'm in the process of selling one house, getting another ready to sell and getting yet another house, ready to move into. Blah. Blah. Blah. Stuff. Stuff. Stuff. I really don’t care all that much until the coordinating, meeting, vetting and babysitting of contractors starts eating into my daily writing time, which it has, but I tell myself this isn’t forever Meryl, it’s just for now. (and it’s for a good cause, our future). 

So back to, stuff, stuff, stuff. Correct me if I'm wrong, but you never really realize just how much stuff you have until it's time to move it. I've been meeting contractors at my house (the one that is under contract and selling) and while they're working, I'm going through the stuff I've accumulated over the course of-...*scratches head*.....geez...actually, it looks like I have stuff my parents and grandparents were afraid to throw out…*face palm* -over the course of three generations. 

Stuff and things. Things and stuff.

Why do we do it?  What do we get out of it?

Why do I want to keep my tattered old blankie and thread-bare teddy bear? Why do I want to hang onto my parent’s high school year books? Why do I want to save my completely inane diaries from junior high? A scrap of my father’s handwriting. His report cards. My report cards. Mom’s nursing license renewals. Mom’s term papers. Dad’s drawings. My uncle’s birth telegram. Mom’s childhood rusty tricycle. My grandfather's embroidered handkerchief. The rocking horse my dad carved for me. Should I save the wedding pictures from my previous marriage? My Color Me Badd CD? 

photo credit: Joshua Franzos

I long for simplicity, but my heart literally pounds in the face of this kind of decision-making. Well…I actually pitched the Color Me Badd CD without a second thought. But everything else! *sigh*...sometimes, when I sit cross-legged on the floor amongst these books, boxes and stacks of paper, I fantasize about it all getting struck by lightening. In my imagination, I drive up to my house and find the foundation, crispy and black. A fire marshal stops me and says, “I’m sorry, M’am, but this house and all the contents within it were consumed by flames. Nothing is salvageable.” In my fantasy, I smile at the fire marshal and give a whooping fist pump and scream, "I'M FREE!!!" But in reality, the thought of me pulling the trigger, dumping it in the trash and saying goodbye once and for all to this stuff sends me into the first stages of a panic attack. It's really not a lot of stuff. I've really whittled it down from when I closed out my parent's estate in 2004. But it does seem like for every ten pieces of paper that I keep, I throw one away. I'll box up the rest and some day, probably the next time I have to move, I’ll start this emotional down-sizing process all over again. 

I'm finding a lot of irony in my life lately because this is the stuff, the essential theme of my novel. There’s a weird sort of symbiotic, method acting/method writing situation going on, where the writer and the main character are struggling with death and the concept of impermanence. It’s a hard pill to swallow. We want things, people, and our memories to last forever.  But they can’t.

There’s a poignant Japanese term, mono no aware, and brutally translated it’s the pathos of things or an empathy toward things and ephemera--really, it's a greater metaphor for life. For example, saying goodbye to a scrap of paper with my father’s handwriting is torture because it's really about the deeper sadness of the realities of life. On some level, throwing this paper away is saying goodbye to my father all over again. Nothing--lifetime brake pads, that scrap of paper, his life, my life, your life, beauty-- is forever. Mono no aware may sound depressing, but it's only depressing until you realize it’s a call to action for the present.

photo credit: Joshua Franzos

photo credit: Joshua Franzos

photo credit: Joshua Franzos

Every spring, the Japanese have a tradition called Hanami. You may know it as the annual viewing of the cherry blossoms. Japanese families break out blankets, sit and maybe have a meal under the fluffy pink Cherry boughs. It is a cultural tradition that is deeply entwined with mono no aware. These delicate pink blossoms are so luminous and beautiful and so very, very fleeting, that everything must be dropped so that you don’t miss the enjoyment of them. Candidly speaking in Japanese worldview terms: life is short, make sure to share it and make sure to enjoy the hell out of it. 

photo credit: Joshua Franzos

So with mono no aware in mind, Mr. Franzos and I dropped everything for a day and saw the national cherry blossoms in Washington, D.C. We shared the experience with about 200,000 other people and we enjoyed the hell out of it. 

I know I'm busy and technically "taking a break" from the fashion blog until I've moved and have whittled our house collection down to one, but I couldn't not write this blog post. Inspiration came from the serendipitous intersection of many things this week, including this song. Do you have any philosophy of life affirming traditions? Please share them with me.
  

What I Wore:

Lace top: Deletta

Skirt: Vince Camuto

Heels: Manolo Blahnik

Purse: Christian Dior

Earrings: vintage

Your bosom friend in Pittsburgh,

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House of Cards

 

photo credit: Joshua Franzos

There's an Italian term that I love: Sprezzatura. In a loosely translated nutshell, it means calculated nonchalance. Isn't that so cool? It was coined by 16th century courtier & author, Baldassare Castiglione, in The Book of the Courtier, published in 1528. Castiglione describes sprezzatura as "a certain nonchalance, so as to conceal all art and make whatever one does or says appear to be without effort and almost without any thought about it." In modern day terms, #IWokeUpLikeThis, but craftier and less obnoxious.

photo credit: Joshua Franzos

House of Cards: Season Three became available on February 27, 2015 and Mr. Franzos and I are still working our way through it, savoring it. The story, the production quality, the breath-taking scenes of our nation's capital....the dichotomous and complex main couple, Frank and Claire Underwood...sigh. It's a writer's and cinematographer's dream. The world is positively captivated by the Underwoods. President Obama was even purported to say about Season 1, "The show is 100% accurate (about Washington D.C.), except for the education bill. It never would've passed that quickly." The words often used to describe the Underwoods vacillate between polar extremes. Sociopathic-Charismatic, Funny-Bone-chilling... I could go on and on about this Machiavellian duo, but let's focus on my Style Crush, Claire, played by actress Robin Wright.

Photo credit: Unknown

On season 1 & 2, Claire Underwood's wardrobe is made up of fitted dresses, pencil skirts and crisp oxford shirts; she means business. On season 3, there's been a subtle shift and a softer, slightly more feminine approach to dressing for her new role as First lady. Claire walks the very fine line between masculine and feminine and seems to have found that magical spot on the log where with one stroke, an axe will cleave it perfectly in two. She's got IT. She's got the sprezzatura.

photo credit: Joshua Franzos

Sprezzatura sounds great and looks even better, but Harry Berger, author of Sprezzatura and the Absence of Grace (2002), has another take on our word of the day. Berger says, sprezzatura is a "form of defensive irony: the ability to disguise what one really desires, feels, thinks and means or intends behind a mask of apparent reticence and nonchalance." Whether they knew it or not, I believe Tom Broecker and Kemal Harris, (Robin Wright's costume designers) took some form of this into consideration when dressing Robin Wright's character.

photo credit: Joshua Franzos

photo credit: Joshua Franzos

photo credit: Joshua Franzos

photo credit: Joshua Franzos

Claire's style is simple and elegant, but the web of deceit that she's at the center of is elaborate and sinister. Claire has poise, but in fleeting moments, her mask is lifted and we get a glimpse of the woman being crushed by the weight of her choices. In a classic nod to Shakespeare's Lady Macbeth, Claire said to her husband, "Give him your heart. Cut it out and put it in his fucking hands." History has shown us, that Lady Macbeth had drive, but proved not to be heartless and morally bankrupt after all.

 

photo credit: unknown

Berger warns that the downside of sprezzatura is to deny one's true nature and to lose oneself to the facade. CAN you live if you cut your heart out? Not really...Not for very long anyway. Is Claire Underwood a sociopath? I really don't think so. But I haven't finished season 3, so I could be wrong. But this is of course, fiction and we like to live vicariously through our web-only villains and watch their inevitable demise. With a name like House of Cards, we aren't kidding ourselves by thinking Frank and Claire are going to ride off into the sunset.

If all you want is happiness say no. I'm not going to give you a couple of kids and count the days until retirement. I promise you freedom from that, I promise you'll never be bored. - Frank Underwood

We definitely aren't bored. Oh, Claire Underwood. We may not agree with your choices, but we love your style and the way you crackle with electricity on our screens as a multitude of dichotomous adjectives threatens to rend you apart before our eyes.You're going to be such a beautiful, blazing inferno.

What I wore:

Dress: All Saints

Bag: YSL

Watch: Gucci

Heels: Prada

Bracelets: Pico Design 

Earrings: inherited from the late Mrs. Franzos

photo credit: Joshua Franzos

Speaking of houses, though, I hope in our case, not ones made of cards. Mr. Franzos and I have some exciting new developments of our own. We bought a town house in the heart of Shadyside, which makes a total of three houses that we own. Yikes! Hopefully we will sell two of those three houses this spring and summer, but there is a long campaign of rolling up our shirt sleeves ahead of us and as such, this blog post will be our season finale of Mrs. Franzos Blog. I have some first lady duties to attend to, but I look forward to what we have in store for next season. Wish us luck!

Your Bosom Friend in Pittsburgh,

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Front Cover Cocktail Dress

Photo Credits: John Altdorfer/Pittsburgh Tribune Review

I made it a few weeks back, practically larger than life, onto the cover of the Fanfare section of the Pittsburgh Tribune-Review. It was exciting and embarrassing and frankly, a little surreal to see myself 12" in height, printed on newspaper.

Scandal star, Joshua Malina and myself. photo credit: David Bachman

I attended (and worked) a fundraiser for the incredible non-profit organizaiton that I work for and dressed the part with an amazing dress I bought at the NCJW Designer Days event. Designer Days is a Pittsburgh fall tradition. I go every year and meet up with my girlfriends for wine, gently used designer clothes and philanthropy. I score something awesome every year, like this gorgeous raspberry satin Dolce & Gabbana dress that I bought for $40! I spent less than $20 on getting it tailored to me, re-used my Prada wedding shoes, curled my hair and voila! I make a cover. 

My good friend, Amy Cohen. (She's the yang to my yin). Photo credit: David Bachman

But let's forget about fashion, Dolce & Gabbana and Prada for a second. Really, the most stylish things are larger than ourselves. I am speaking about philanthropy. I support my organization, the Jewish Federation of Greater Pittsburgh, because I see the good work they do everyday and I know how much they care about the community and their employees. I also support the Carnegie Libraries of Pittsburgh, not only because I go there everyday to write on my lunch break, but also because I believe in the accessibility of literacy and knowledge. What good causes and organizations do you support? Do you go to their fundraisers? What do you wear?

Your Bosom Friend From Pittsburgh,

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Follow The White Rabbit

 

photo credit: Joshua Franzos

I'm always on the hunt for the elusive, white rabbit and it all started with Walt Disney's animated adaptation of Lewis Carroll's novel, Alice's Adventures in Wonderland. I watched it so much as a child, I wore out the VHS tape. When I was older, my parents introduced me to Jefferson Airplane's song, Go Ask Alice. When I was older still, the literature reference popped up again in The Matrix. The white rabbit is the inciting event for Alice or Neo. In story-telling terms, the inciting event is the thing that sparks their curiosity and sets their stories, officially in motion.

My story officially started years ago, but for the sake of this post, we're going to flash forward, to a point in my life where I had some serious problems with the way it was playing out. I won't bore you with my Dickensian story of woe, but just know that we're talking full-on, existential crisis mode. And then, 

a white rabbit appeared.

and.

I followed him.

I'm talking symbolically, of course. I didn't *actually* see a white rabbit at the darkest point of my life. But I did see a chance and I pursued it. I went head-first, down the rabbit hole (so to speak) and came out the other side, stronger and happier than I've ever known. 

A changed person. A grateful woman.

photo credit: Joshua Franzos

But then, something weird started happening. I actually started seeing the white rabbit. It started when I began writing during my lunch hours everyday. I'd run over to the library, find my window seat in the quiet WWII section, and pour my heart out onto the pages of my moleskine notebook. One day, many weeks later, I looked up from a nearly full notebook and saw the white rabbit right on the library bookshelf (it was a book titled, The White Rabbit). I knew right then and there, that it was a sign that I was on the right path. 

photo credit: Joshua Franzos

 

photo credit: Joshua Franzos

 

My grandfather's initials. photo credit: Joshua Franzos

My mother's watch. photo credit: Joshua Franzos

 

photo credit: Joshua Franzos

 

photo credit: Joshua Franzos

photo credit: Joshua Franzos

I see the white rabbit everywhere now and I try to document most of it on my Instagram account. I know it sounds positively crazy, but I don't care. He's a personal totem for me--a weird symbol of the unknown. A sign that I'm where I should be, doing exactly what I'm doing. I trust that he'll always send me on a merry journey where I will see cool things, meet interesting people, and have great stories to tell afterward. Do you have any personal totems, symbols, or signs that encourage you? I want to hear about them in the comments below.

Your Bosom Friend From Pittsburgh,

What I wore:

Blouse: Oasap

Pants: My grandfather's Navy bell bottoms.

Watch: Vintage, Omega.

Jewelry: Vintage.

Bag: Vivienne Westwood

Shoes: Louis Vuitton

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Winter Whites

 

photo credit: Joshua Franzos

I was born and largely raised in California. I didn't see my first snow until I was five years old and vacationing in Lake Tahoe. It was magical and beautiful, until it wasn't. A boy threw an icy snow ball at my face and it hurt. I cried. Snow wasn't anything like the cartoons, especially when I tried to make my own return-fire snowball. It numbed my little fingers and my aim sucked. I whiffed it. Big time. The stupid boy laughed at my pathetic snowball, so I shuffled over to him in my two-tone nylon speed suit, took off my vinyl mittens, and punched him in the nose. This time, my aim was true. His nose bled and I was put in a time out. How was I supposed to know that icy snowballs were permissible, but fisticuffs were not? As far as I was concerned, Lake Tahoe could keep their stupid snow. 
 

photo credit: Joshua Franzos

photo credit: Joshua Franzos

Flash forward 29 years and I don't live in California anymore. I live in Pittsburgh and get four seasons, one of which is winter. Snow is still magical and beautiful, until it isn't. The first snow fall of every year,  I get all squishy and obnoxious about looking at the individual snow flakes. "Aren't they so beautiful?" "Each one is unique!" I have about a 24 hour, honeymoon period with snow every year. Then, the next morning, when I'm up at 4:45am, shoveling the driveway and scraping the beautiful and unique devils off my car so I can get to the gym, I'm soooooooooo over it.

photo credit: Joshua Franzos

photo credit: Joshua Franzos

photo credit: Joshua Franzos

 Snow, you wretched pain in my neck. GO AWAY. Or at least have the decency to fall hard enough so that I can get an adult snow day. DEAR GOD. I hold out hope every year for the possibility of an ADULT SNOW DAY. It might be what actually gets me through to spring. Help me adult snow day, you're my only hope! 

photo credit: Joshua Franzos

photo credit: Joshua Franzos

photo credit: Joshua Franzos

In the meantime, I'm trying to make winter time dressing a little more fun. A little less rutty. A lot more epic. Are delusions of grandeur a symptom of cabin fever? I went to the planet of Hoth for inspiration and I am of course, talking about the fictional planet from the epic space opera known as Star Wars. Hoth is a desolate world, covered with ice and snow and located in the Anoat Sector, a rarely traveled portion of the Outer Rim. The indigenous creatures are the tauntaun and the wampa and it's really, really cold there. The rebel alliance (you know, Luke, Han, Leia, etc) was re-established there in Echo Base in The Empire Strikes Back and I gotta say, I love the rebel alliance in their winter whites.

 

photo credit: Unknown

Mr. Franzos, Lando and I, (meet my dog! named after Lando Calrissian) got out for a little, winter walk at a neighborhood sculpture park. Instead of going complete white monochromatic like the rebel alliance, I mixed it up with black, because, that's what I have in my closet. I wore my favorite rabbit fur hat, a cream OASAP shearling jacket, an Ann Taylor Loft vest, a black Los Angeles t-shirt, cream Free People stretch pants, a Kelsi Dagger shoulder bag, Hunter wellington boots and my favorite vintage French sunglasses. 
 

photo credit: Joshua Franzos

I think I'm ready to punch snow in the nose.  How do you keep warm and stay stylish? Tell me in the comments below! I'd love to hear it.

Your Bosom Friend From Pittsburgh,

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