Doing my Part ... in Style

My friend visited me from out of town the other week and brought me the most wonderful hostess gift.  

I stopped using Aquanet years ago, ruining 

the ozone layer went out 

(thankfully) with the 80s big hair.  But other than adopting 

a more earth friendly grooming habits, I wasn't fast to pick up on other, more green ways of living.  I'm a New Yorker so I do rely on public transportation

 and limit my noxious fuel emissions to visits out of the city. I do use the biodegradable 

cleaning products and I have bought those weird swirly light bulbs, so I guess I am doing my part.

But yes, I am guilty of PBU (Plastic Bag Usage).

 Call Al Gore

Until now.

I am in love with the Papyrus canvas tote "Because Plastic is so Last Year".  I think of it more as a day bag, taking it with me as I head out to do all my errands. It easily fit the shirt which needed to be dropped off at the dry cleaner, the return to Saks and an

organic apple (Sure, fruit can be stylish too.).  And I filled it up on the way home - stopping at the market to get milk and fruit, tossing in a bag of coffee from Starbucks and a new T-shirt for the gym. 

 

Whole Foods version "I'm not a Plastic Bag" is no longer in production, but the brainchild behind the popular bag which had people lining up in the rain for hours upon

 its launch has a store on the Upper East Side. Anya Hindmarch is a British designer who has a shop at 29 E. 60th Street. It is there she sells a variety of apparel including customized canvas totes where you can add your own photos or designs. 

Expect to pay for the name though, these custom totes don't come cheap so be prepared to shell out paper for canvas. You may even need to pull the (*Horrors) plastic from your 

wallet for these pricey styles.

For a more wallet-friendly version, online retailer Cafe Press sells trendy canvas totes for about $17 offering

 this Park Avenue version for a real authentic New York feel.

 

Go Greek

It was the age-old argument between husband and wife: What's for dinner?

"How bout Greek for dinner tonight," I said to M as we strolled through Central Park last weekend.  In the 90 degree-plus heat the only food I could stomach the idea of eating was fresh Greek cuisine. Perhaps it is our upcoming trip in August to Greece, but lately I have been craving fresh whole fish, zesty lemon spices and rich Feta cheese.  "Great idea. Let's go to Moonstruck. A Greek salad sounds perfect in this weather." I nearly dropped my Poland Spring water bottle. "Are you kidding? That's not Greek food. Just 'cause someone who is Greek owns the diner or takes your order, doesn't make it Greek. It's just diner food. I meant let's go out for a nice dinner." 

We went back and forth, arguing over the authenticity and which version of Greek was better.  "I'll make you a deal: Tonight we will go to Trata for a real, fancy Greek dinner and on Sunday night we can go to Moonstruck and then we can compare the two. Sound good?"  M was in agreement and the challenge, or at least the comparison was on.

Trata (1331 2nd Ave.) vs Moonstruck (58th and 2nd):

Ambiance:  Winner - Trata. Of course Trata would triumph here.  With fabulous sidewalk seating and a Mediterranean influenced decor, the relaxed yet sophisticated vibe rules over Moonstruck's industrial cold metal booths and loud color schematic.  

Menu: Tie - Trata/Moonstruck.  You name it, you can get it at Moonstruck. From Matzoh Ball soup to a HUGE Greek salad to eggs anyway, all-day - more than just Greek, the litany of menu items is eye-popping especially if you are undecided.  Trata's menu, while obviously more gourmet is filled with fresh catch items such as Red Snapper and Dorado. The Midia (New Zealand Mussles  in a clay pot with ouzo-style sauce) is out of this world as well as the Trata Piato (paper thin zucchini and baby eggplant chips).  

People-Watching - Winner-Trata. On a Saturday night, just as the hot air cools to enjoyable temperature, sitting on the sidewalk is built-in entertainment.  You can watch the city rush by, eavesdrop on your neighbors' table and watch the hordes of people come and go from the bars that line 2nd Avenue. At Moonstruck you get a mix of neighborhood families especially for brunch and the 24hr diner who is in desperate need for a greasy egg & cheese to battle the morning hangover. 

Greek Salad: Winner - Moonstruck.  Not that size is everything, but when it comes to a Greek Salad, Moonstruck's version is giant.  Dollar for dollar, it is a far better deal than the gourmet version at Trata.

Sure, I am not comparing Apples to Apples, but Greek food in any form is the perfect treat for a hot summer day. Both fresh and simple, whether diner-style or gourmet it hits the spot. "So what's the verdict?" I asked M as we walked home from dinner at Moonstruck on Sunday evening. "It's a tie.  There is a time and a place for each. How 'bout next week we compare Phillipe to Asia Grill?"

Browbeaten

I am one of those people who thinks of grooming as a tedious chore.  Unlike some of my female compatriots  who enjoy the hours of manicures, pedicures, hair coloring, cutting and waxing - I find the virtues of being a female more bitter than better. I dread getting my nails done -patiently waiting on a beautiful Saturday afternoon at the local nail salon for a chair to open, reading back issues of US Weekly and then finally, trying my absolute hardest (to no avail) to not chip, smush or ruin the polish.  

Don't even get me started on hair coloring!  Once you start coloring your hair it is impossible to stop. And due to the cruelty of nature and aging, my once luscious golden-hued locks deepen in color each year leaving me with squeaky light brown color which just cannot be. Forced to fight nature, I find myself in the trusted hands of Adrian at Rita Hazan more often than I would like. "You really should be coming every 6 weeks," he admonished me as he parted my hair to see the re-growth.  "You are lucky. You have healthy hair which grows fast, but you need to get in here more often." Lucky, lucky me. 

So when it comes to plucking errant eyebrow hair, I took the job into my own two hands with my trusty Tweezerman tweezers.  Needless to say, I didn't do such a hot job. One eyebrow arched up towards my forehead while the other one looked more like an inchworm crawling off my face sideways.  It was time to call in the professionals.  

I had, on occasion, let the local nail salon take a crack at it.  For $9, they didn't do a bad job but certainly, my eyebrows didn't have that flare you see in beauty magazines.  So I enlisted the help of my friends, fellow Upper East Siders, to find out their insights for well-manicured brows. 

Bloomingdales:  Who would believe?  This mega-store not only sells luggage, Gucci pencil skirts and Waterford crystal, but they also do a mean eyebrow wax.  Lancome's own Lilly and Gabrielle are the two in-house eyebrow experts.  On the first floor, adjacent to the Lancome (212 705 2022) counter, lies the eyebrow station. If you don't mind having your facial hair ripped from your face as fellow shoppers peruse the latest lip gloss colors then this place is for you.  Elegantly shaping brows in a few short minutes for $25, these two experienced waxers can shape even the most unruly brows.

If you prefer public tweezing to waxing, the Bobby Brown counter on the 3rd floor offers this service.  Slightly off the beaten path, this semi-private makeup counter will tweeze and shape your eyebrows until they are perfect.  Better yet, this service is offered with a purchase of $25 of products. So think of it as more a "gift with purchase".  You can walk away with the new shimmer brick and amazing brows.

Eliza's Brows:

THE expert, Exhale Spa's Eliza Petrescu has a reputation for being the best of the best. She has shaped, reformed and recreated the brows of celebrities, moguls and socialites.  Her work can be seen on the pages of many national beauty magazines.  Having worked at a variety of salons in New York City such as Avon Salon & Spa, Eliza now has stores across the country and at Exhale Spa (980 Madison Ave; 212 561 6414) on the Upper East Side.

Samar Spa:

Threading is another practice which is growing in popularity these days.  Originally from India, this version of hair removal is not done with hot wax or a tweezer but rather with a long, thin thread which can remove an entire row of hair at a time rather than just one hair. Some people find this way less painful than the others. At Samar Spa at 1785 1st Avenue (212 831 6700), Nabil is the man to see.  For $20, he can perform this ancient practice leaving you with a modern and perfected look. 

In Vino Veritas

"One more?" Stacy asked as she picked up her bag from the back of the chair. We just finished dinner at Totoya, by far the best sushi spot on the Upper East Side. After two tiny bottles of sake and some delicious rolls neither of us were ready to call it an evening. "I could go for another sake," I said.

We started walking uptown on 2nd trying to figure out which neighborhood bar would possibly have sake on their menu coming to the realization that unless we went to another sushi restaurant for drinks we would be walking for a very long time. It was a Monday and the streets were relatively empty for that time of night. "Wait," I said looking up at an awning and trying to gain my bearings, "Didn't this used to be Cafe Med?" Seemingly overnight, the once mostly empty Cafe Med reinvented itself with a brand new facade and name. Born was Vino: the new wine bar on 66th and 2nd Avenue.

"Since it looks like sake is out, what if we just get some wine and sit outside," Stacy said sauntering into the new spot. The small space had giant floor to ceiling windows which were open, the cool night air blowing gently through the restaurant as the waiters delivered interesting flights of wine to the few occupied tables. We asked for a table on the sidewalk to be able to people watch as we had just "one more."

When I ordered two glasses of Prosecco the very friendly waiter who also happened to be a good salesman suggested we order a bottle. In a deep Italian accent he said, "For nearly the same price you can have a wonderful bottle and enjoy the night. I insist. You must." Sure, what the heck, it was early. On his suggestion Stacy and I agree and wait for him to pop the cork and pour us two overflowing drinks. We sat back in our chairs, delicately sipping from the glasses and watching the cityscape play out in front of us.

Our waiter was an authentic, fresh-off-the boat true Italian who knew his wines and the world. "Help yourself," I said offering him a glass from the open bottle. He plopped down in the seat across from us and shared some drink and some stories with us. The restaurant wasn't crowded and our new friend was enjoying the night as much as we were when we all caught site of the infamous cross-dressing jogger. An urban legend as well as a real, live person, this jogger has been sprinting the Upper East Side streets for as long as I can remember. Clad in a mesh see-thru tank top, a pair of women's thong with a face full of make-up, this hot-mess flashes by at speeds I can only dream of reaching on the treadmill.

Immune to things like this after 10 years in the city, Stacy and I both acknowledged the strange choice of workout gear but failed to be surprised. However. Our new friend can't take his eyes of this guy as he bounds into the uptown night. "I see him earlier today," the waiter returns his gaze to us. "I see him, I see him in front of that nail salon window over there. He was stretching and lifting weights on the street corner. I have never seen anything like it. I watch him stretch. You could see his, you know, his thing - his man thing. In Italy we don't have....what you call that?"

Beside the cross-dressing runner, Stacy and I also ran into: 2 college friends (1 with the cutest little puppy I have ever seen), 1 co-worker and a gaggle of people we buried our heads in our drinks to not see. "You know what," I slurred my words. "I looooooooooooooove sitting outside and having a glass of wine. I looooooooooooooove Vino. I am so coming back here with M. This is like, my new most favorite spot EVER." Our glass of wine seemed like the bottomless pasta bowl at Olive Garden. At this point, we had been sitting in our seats for 3 hours. "Did we order one of those, you know, huge bottles like they have to decorate bars?" Stacy slurred back in the midst of a giggle. Up until that moment, I had failed to feel the effects of the prosecco coupled with the sake we had earlier, but all of a sudden I felt like I was hit by a freight train of booze. "There was no way that was just one bottle," I said hoping I hadn't become the lightweight drinker I used to mock.

When our waiter reappeared from inside carrying with him a bottle to refill our glasses we asked him, "Is that our first bottle?"

"No, I hope you don't mind, but I give you more. No charge, we just had extra open so I keep pouring until it run out."

I didn't mind at all....until the next morning when I woke up with silly little Sharpie ink marks M decided to draw all-over my arms cause he thought it would be funny.