Wanting:

Fred Perry’s classic polo shirt comes wrapped in a branded box, sized for ages up to one year, with the traditional ribbed twin-tipped collar, a two branded button placket, and the trademark embroidered laurel on the chest.

The only way this “My First Fred Perry Polo Shirt” special edition gift box set could get more adorable is with some baby-sized Levi 514s, a ’60s Vespa toddler bicycle, and a vintage “Guinness in Baby Bottles” sign…

See more Fred Perry at Scotts.

Wearing:

I came back from Honolulu to find an Itsykini – a customizable bikini kit — waiting for me.  Inspired by classic Bond babe’s bikinis, the Itsykini is four beautifully tailored triangles that tie together with a rainbow of interchangeable bows. What else does any chick need for the beach? Nothing, so long as you’ve semi-permanent eyelash extensions, semi-permanent brows, and are swimming in an obscure brand of sunblock with micronized zinc…

Wanting:

So I’m still using the white earbuds that came with my iSomething or the other. These Vivienne Tam “Butterfly Lovers” earbuds — noise-canceling, built-in mic’ing, beautiful — could change that…

Wanting:

I saw this Smythson “NOW OR NEVER” wafer notebook in design store and fashion victim mecca Colette in while in Paris a few weeks ago.

While carrying a €100 notepad and an iPhone appeals to neither my cents nor sensibility, a notebook titled “NOW OR NEVER” feels romantic, like the unrealized dreams it could contain: the thoughts of an Albanian heroine of the novel that’s floated through my head for four years, bicycling by bamboo waterwheels while touring Guangxi Zhuangzu, and the beauty of the thousands of things thousands of dollars might do to my face while playing with needles in 90210.

Like, le sigh…

Using:

I might be embarrassed about finding a handcrafted, $900 solid sterling silver German Shepherd bangle bracelet I dig. But it’s not like I’m some nutty dog lady. I’ve got other sexy, important ish going on.

Like looking at custom car colors by Mercedes in the sunlight, twirling my hair, comparing Henry James’s novel The Wings of The Dove to the 1997 same-name movie, and using my new fur squeegee to harvest hair off of Major Dukes‘s custom Porsche dog car seat, to be woven into a scarf.

I’m kidding.

About twirling my hair…

Using:

Check that pebbled nose, those slick whiskers, that majestic flowing coat. I’d trade my collection of vintage Hermes scarves for this vintage German Shepherd dog scarf –

If five-figures of dough was rolled up in it…

Hating:

I’ve been wearing a German Shepherd dog sweater every day for over a year, and mine beats Balenciaga’s dog sweater: it works well with my made-to-order, monogrammed shirtdresses, retails for twenty times Balenciaga’s ridick price, and doesn’t make me look like an idiot (just an attention-hungry middle child).

The bummer about my German Shepherd dog sweater?  It leaves practically another dog sweater on its custom Porsche dog seat, but I bet this angora-blend Balenciaga German Shepherd dog sweater sheds just as much. The only bonus? No one would want to pet this one or its owner…
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Wanting:

“These Machines Kill Fascists” pencils are charming, and somewhat ironically, because the un-techie tool makes me long for a little anti-democracy, for an Age of Innocence, for when the barrier to entering the public world of written word went beyond access to an online email machine.

And let’s put my BA degree in Pseudo-Intellectual Masturbation to work, let’s discuss how these “These Machines Kill Fascists” pencils have a point beyond their sharpened tip, only let’s not forget that fascists often own the machines that make the machines that kill fascists.

Yes, let’s not — only not now. Because those are 140 characters for another time — I’ve got to update my German Shepherd Major Dukes’s Facebook page…

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Seeing:

R by 45RPM is a Japanese denim boutique seconds away from the Mercer Hotel (and my German shepherd Major Dukes’s fav fire hydrant in New York). I’ve only bought a gift from R by 45RPM, given that even the most carefully crafted Japanese indigo goods don’t fit into my uniform of custom, silk jersey tank dresses and made-to-measure, monogrammed shirt dresses.

But whenever I can I step into the world of R by 45RPM: wabi-sabi wares are theatrically lit, the cobblestone floor is wet-swept and left damp throughout the day, and savory incense spices the air…

Wanting:

A gentleman’s valet in a chick’s boudoir is such subtle sex, and I like imagining a silk knit tie dangling off this Jacques Adnet valet, a Rolex tucked in it and ticking like a metronome, while, strewn across its base, the feathers of marabou slippers tremble in time.

Even though it’s sculpted in red leather, this Jacques Adnet valet is quiet and calm, but the things it should see…