Uhhh...No. Swine flu.

In the spirit of contracting and fighting viruses, "Uhhh...No." is brought to you this week courtesy of the Swine Flu.


With 103 deaths and 1,600 cases in Mexico since the first reported outbreak one month ago, 40 cases in the U.S., ten in New Zealand, and one in Spain, the Swine Flu is shaping up to pandemic proportions. Travelers have been advised against unessential travel to Mexico. Several countries in the European Union have even warned against travel to the United States! Officials in Hong Kong are going crazy over this, forcing any international airline traveler with a fever of over 100.4 to go to a nearby hospital and be tested for Swine Flu. They're not allowed to leave until the test comes back negative. All in an attempt to avoid a repeat of SARS. President Obama is even getting involved, declaring an emergency with Homeland Security in order to free more tests for children and stockpiled antiviral drugs.

Pork is not the way that Swine Flu is contracted. It is a strain of the regular flu, passed from pigs to humans and now from humans to other humans. Catching this virus can be as easy as getting sneezed on by a person with no symptoms but that may have gotten the virus from their roommate that just returned from Mexico. Or eating off a fork in a restaurant that wasn't cleaned properly. Or touching an infected doorknob and then touching your eyes. This is really scary. I work with a guy that just got back from Mexico, what am I supposed to do? Quarantine him in the bathroom with a Swine Flu test kit and vaccine? Which I'm sure he'd be resistant to, so it'd just be me outside the bathroom, locking a dude in there with a needle. Again. I'm one step away from getting a SARS mask with rhinestone kitty whiskers and telling everyone to "get over it, at least I'm safe from Swine Flu".
Living in a city makes it that much harder to avoid the horrific Swine Flu, and this thing is only going to get worse before it gets better. Everytime someone near me sneezes, I can practically see the strains of H1N1 (the scientific classification of Swine Flu) barreling towards me, housed in cases of snot, just looking for a nice healthy body like mine to take root in and destroy. My paranoia has reached new heights. Is that pang in my arms and legs after the gym just a regular post-workout burn or the fatigue of Swine Flu? Is my forehead hot because of a fever or because it's 100 degrees outside? Am I getting a headache from all this worrying or from Swine Flu?

Until this thing gets under control, I'm only eating the gigantic pack of year-old pasta noodles on my shelf and using anti-bacterial hand sanitizer even more religiously than before. In addition to the more obvious precautions such as constant hand washing, pushing open doors with my butt instead of my hands, and crossing to the other side of the street if I see someone coughing or otherwise sickly looking coming towards me. The number one way to prevent the spread of disease is to stay at home! What is so hard about that? I'm contemplating carrying around one of the aerosol cans that sprays anti-bacterial mist into the air, so that I can douse anybody that I'm unable to immediately run away from.

The Center for Disease Control has offered these helpful hints at: http://www.cdc.gov/swineflu/swineflu_you.htm in order to help prevent and treat the Swine Flu should you be concerned that you or someone you know has the disease. Although the most obvious thing to do would be to get your ass to the ER as fast as possible. Alone. With a SARS mask on. You can also get up-to-the-minute updates from The Lede blog at New York Times webpage: http://thelede.blogs.nytimes.com/2009/04/27/updates-on-the-swine-flu/

It's better to be safe than sorry. Be careful, be sanitary, and be safe! With something like this, it's about much more than keeping yourself safe. It becomes about keeping your loved ones and even un-loved ones around you healthy and alive.

Join me in extra sanitation and awareness, as we say "Uhhh...No." to the Swine Flu!

Your Golden Girl,

Olive








Image appears courtsey of travel.webshots.com

I'm baaaaack!

After a week long hiatus, V is for Olive is up and running again.


I know all of my faithful readers must have been wondering whatever could have happened to me. Was she hit by a bus? Robbed, beaten, and left for dead in a Hollywood alley? Maybe she just plain old gave up and got a regular 9 to 5 because only 4 people read her blog? No, no, and never! None of these things even came close to happening. The real story is that The Pussycat Dolls and Perez Hilton are to blame. I was procrastinating on getting to work on some of my other writing projects and decided to check out Perez Hilton's site, like I often did. I clicked on a link to read a story about The Pussycat Dolls (that's how much I was avoiding getting to work), when my computer suddenly froze and a million pop-ups telling me I had a virus took over my screen!


After the computer doctor diagnosed my laptop as having adware (coutesey of a trojan on Perez Hilton) that wasn't a virus but just very annoying and could potentially lock up all of my computer functions, I turned my laptop over for repair. Now, here we are again. One week and two hundred dollars later, and my computer is functioning exactly as it always has. This is one Golden Girl that will only be getting her Hollywood gossip via word of mouth from now on.


Your Golden Girl,


Olive

Hot Nails

I lack the steady hand required for talented surgeons and manicurists, so I usually shy away from nail color. Any attempt to paint my nails on my own ends in frustration, smudged nail polish and a ruined sofa cushion. I shy away from professional manicures since it's hard for me to not use my hands for longer than the ten minutes it takes for the polish to dry completely. Also, by the second day I've usually done something to chip my nails and then I'm forced to walk around for the next week looking like White Trash Sally with her perpetually chipped nail polish. Once I realized I was actually paying a fair amount of money to look this way, I stopped getting manicures altogether.


However, nail polish is one of the quickest ways to switch up the tone of your look without having to change anything else. While browsing the local beauty supply shop recently, my interest in colored fingernails was renewed when I stumbled across the new "South Beach" collection from O.P.I. My favorite shade is Miami Beet, a pretty deep purple. O.P.I is releasing another collection soon , with Paige jeans, called "Brights", which is definitely worth keeping an eye out for. The neon colors are a great way to test a current trend without investing too much time or money. I'm so excited to try them out, I've nearly forgotten all about the ruined sofa cushions. O.P.I. is available at nail salons, beauty supply stores and through their official website: www.opi.com .My nails are currently traffic cone orange, with neon purple toenails to clash. The color choice got me an indifferent shrug and eye roll from the manicurist, but so far the feedback has been predominantly positive. There's something about bright colors that reminds people of warm weather and poolside cocktails.
Hot nail colors were all the rage back in the 80's and 90's, and they have invaded pop culture again. From electric oranges, to hot pinks, turquoise, and neon yellow, these colors scream "Summertime Fun!" and add a playful pop of color to any ensemble.

Your Golden Girl,

Olive



Image appears courtesy of splendicty.com

Paul McCartney not the only great thing at Coachella

The Coachella Valley Music and Art Festival is held every year near Palm Springs, California on Empire Polo Field. If you want to see a lot of overheated hipsters on hallucinogenics, it is the place to be. Coachella, like all big outdoor music festivals, is also a great place to discover new bands while closing out the night with a reliable favorite.


Desert sun is unbearable for more than one fourteen-hour-stretch in a row, so this year Friday seemed to have the best line-up. Fearing a repeat of the debacle that was Prince's performance last year, I tried not to get my hopes up too high for Friday's closer, Paul McCartney. I was very pleasantly surprised to be blown away: no wonder his shows sell out in ten seconds! April 17th was also the anniversary of Linda McCartney's passing, and it was obviously therapeutic for Paul to be performing for such a huge and diverse crowd on that day. You could tell he was having a great time on stage, and the audience was loving him for mostly sticking to greatest hits from the Beatles. He put on a fireworks display, gave two encores, and performed for nearly three hours.


There was also about ten hours of music and mayhem before Sir Paul took the stage that did not disappoint. Noah and the Whale, Burka Som Sistema, and Felix da Housecat all put on enjoyable shows. Performing for the first time in over fifteen years was seventy-six-year-old Leonard Cohen, possibly the cutest old man I have ever seen. His smoky voice hasn't left one bit, and his trio of young female back-up singers, combined with his slick black suit and fedora gave the performance a nostalgic, fifties-nightclub vibe. LC also seemed to be truly happy to be onstage, fueled by the energy from the generationally mixed crowd cheering him on.


Once night fell, the freaks started to come out. Performers were not immune. Morrissey threw a diva tantrum onstage (what a shock!). He walked off mid song and demanded that the smell of cooking hamburgers wafting across the field from the food court be cleared before he came back out. He's a vegetarian. We hightailed it out of there and made our way to the Sahara tent, where a dance party complete with light show and touchy-feely concert goers was taking place, courtesey of GirlTalk. There were about fifty to a hundred people dancing onstage, similar to M.I.A. last year. Only without the drunken screaming of an egotistical singer to ruin everything. The video art of scary faces with the words "DIE" splashed across it took me out of the party abit, but by the end of his set, I was shaking it to modern pop hits like everybody else.


I might have had to turn down an offer for a bite of Philly cheese steak sandwich from the totally baked sixty-year-old woman standing behind me during Leonard Cohen, but seeing him, Morrissey, and Paul McCartney all in the same day was a once in a lifetime experience that was definitely worth it. Plus, it wouldn't be Coachella without all the wacky people and at least one onstage meltdown.


Your Golden Girl,


Olive


Unusually dressed appreciators of music

Felix da Housecat

Leonard Cohen

GirlTalk

Style Icon: Annie Hall

"Annie Hall" is one of the rare films that perfectly captures a small slice of real human life and the relationships we have during that life. In addition to being a hilarious and all-around great piece of cinema, "Annie Hall" launched a million trends in fashion and style upon its release.


Diane Keaton as Annie Hall is rumored to be wearing much of her own clothes throughout the film, and her ease onscreen made women all over the world attempt to find that comfort in their own wardrobe. Annie Hall was one of the original gamines. Rather than be apologetic for her thin frame and long limbs, she embraced her masculine qualities wholeheartedly, and took menswear to levels never seen before in mainstream fashion. She used fashion as way of asserting her individuality and uniqueness to the world around her. From bowler hats, straw bags, and wide-leg trousers to oversized blazers, wind-swept hair, vests, scarves, and big sunglasses, the mark of "Annie Hall" is still widely visible in fashion today. Fashionistas from Carrie Bradshaw, to Kate Moss, Lou Doillon, and Kate Bosworth have all copied a little something from Annie.


From singing for the first time in front of an audience on the first date to snapping pictures as her boyfriend is attacked by lobsters, Annie is irresistibly herself one-hundred percent of the time. Sometimes to a fault. This is why her one-of-a-kind style is interpreted as revolutionary as opposed to oddball, and also why her influence has not faded with the years. "Annie Hall" remains a Style Icon for scatterbrained, independent city-women everywhere.


Your Golden Girl,
Olive

Image appears courtesey of http://www.supernet.com/

The Manhattan Project

I have bid the great city of New York farewell, for now.
Before I left, I did manage to stroll down 5th Avenue (on the way to MOMA), and peek into some of the fine designer shops. Pre-recession, I would've been in there buying up a storm. For now, I have to find content in simply admiring the all beautiful things. Even though I could jaunt right on down to Rodeo Drive in Beverly Hills for the same stores, there's something so much more fun about shopping in NYC. It's no wonder so much is always happening here. Inspiration is surrounding every turn!

One of the reasons The Sartorialist is so great is because he really hit the nail on the head. Everywhere you turn in NYC, from 5th Avenue to Brooklyn, somebody is wearing something chic or bizarre or undeniably fabulous. Women don't just wake up and throw on a pair of sweats, there is real thought and self-expression poured into most every outfit.

New Yorkers aren't afraid of personal style, no matter what the time or budget crunch. We may not all be able to shop on 5th Avenue, but we can all gather inspiration from the things that surround us. From the way your grandpa used to add a feather to his flannel gangster hats to your landlord that wears cowboy boots with sundresses, or the owner of the Thai restaurant down the street that wears ten pounds of layered necklaces everyday. Style is everywhere, if you just squint your eyes you'll be able to take a litle of this, a little of that, mix it with something of your own and BAM! Instant Personal Style. Easy.

For now, here are some of my personal photos, to inspire you in all things Manhattan...

Your Golden Girl,

Olive

Tick Tock Topshop

Live from New York, it's...Golden Girl, Olive!

This week V is for Olive is coming to you from the fashion capital of the United States, the Big Apple. I wish I had time to scour every nook and cranny of this amazing city but I'm only here for a few days, so my style coverage will be short, sweet, and simple.

Impossible to ignore are the bills posted everywhere advertising the first American branch of Topshop, which recently opened at Broadway and Broome near SoHo. Like any good style addict, I had to get my fix of this British import and see what all the fuss was about, since clicking through a website will never compare to scouring the rack in person.

Upon entering the madhouse, I managed to push my way through the crowd to the elevators leading up the second floor. The first floor had mostly accessories and spring-time jumpers. I was more interested in finding Kate Moss' line that allegedly caused riots in the London store.

There it was, on the second floor. A small corner dedicated to several variations of sundresses, cardigans, tank tops, and skirts. There was also more trendy pieces like the black suede blazer with gold wing details on the shoulders, and two variations of a vibrant evening-type dress, one in cream with purple flowers and one in crayola green. Everything ranged from $40-$400. My heart desperately desired the aforementioned suede blazer and a pair of black stilletto pumps with most unusual lines (invoking a blooming flower) with a price tag of $200. Although I would have settled for any of the shoes, all were great renditions of designer kicks for more than half the price.

I settled on a simple pinafore dress from Miss Kate Moss. It is different shades of blue with little orange flowers, sleeveless with a tie at the waist. The dress is simple and bohemian, perfect for Coachella. Most of the sundresses were probably designed in order for Kate Moss and her boyish figure to look great in the ads. As a young woman with hips, I looked about three feet wider than a normal human being them.

Although their basic pieces can be found at their closest U.S. counterparts H&M or Forever 21, Topshop by far has a more eclectic selection of "Of the Moment" pieces. I was happy to have my little bit of pop culture with the Kate Moss dress, and I predict that Topshop will find great success in future stateside endeavors.

More from The City later this week!

Your Golden Girl,

Olive

The New Yorker reports on pressing global issues

The New Yorker published their annual Style Issue on March 16th, 2009. The cover (by Floc'h) featured Michelle Obama posing in a fashion show with her arms completely covered in every look:It was a great issue, and it's nice to see respected journalistic institutions take time to really report on style since it is often easily dismissed as something only people with a lot of spare time or wealth can be interested in. Once you dig in you see all of the thought and creativity that goes into designer collections, where they gather their inpiration, how hard they worked to get where they are, etc. It can be a really fascinating topic without once mentioning what's "in" or the idea of the perfect female form.

My favorite article was probably "Man on the Street" (It can be read here: http://www.newyorker.com/reporting/2009/03/16/090316fa_fact_collins), by Lauren Collins. I ripped out the article and hung it over my desk. It's really inspiring to examine someone that enjoys what they do so much. Collins wrote about Bill Cunningham, and his coverage of New York Street Style. He's sort of like The Sartorialist before blogs.

I also really enjoyed the profiles of the writer Yasmina Reza ("Nowhere Woman", by Judith Thurman) and Lanvin designer Alber Elbaz ("Ladies Man", by Ariel Levy). With their mutual themes of celebrating smart, independent women I may have found a new obsession in each subject!

You can read any of the articles in the archives on http://www.newyorker.com/, or better yet buy a subscription! It's a good read each week, regardless of whether you live in the Big Apple or not.

Your Golden Girl,

Olive

Image appears courtesy of NewYorker.com

Uhhh...No. Closetalkers.

When you were a young child, do you recall parents and teachers educating you on the importance of personal space? An appropriate face-distance while in the middle of conversation? A respectable arms length away at all times when waiting, speaking, or listening? Or perhaps they used scare tactics and filled your impressionable young mind with horrifying tales of "Stranger Danger"?

"Uhhh...No." is brought to you this week by Closetalkers.


If you were not taught any of the aforementioned things in your youth, then you're what I like to call a Closetalker. There is no space in the word for a reason. Because said Closetalker does not understand the importance of personal space. They're referred to as Closetalkers out of convenience, because Closetalker is easier to say than Closestanding Human or Awkwardly Near Speaker. Where I come from, peope only get in your personal bubble (the zone you can create around yourself by holding your arms out and making an invisible circle ) for one of two reasons: to hug you, or to stab you. I'm not really interested in having either one of these things happen.


Someone that stands too near you in line? Also probably gets way too close to you in everyday conversation. Someone that sits down right next to you at the empty bar with no intention of buying you a drink? I'm going to go ahead and guess they also don't care to back up while talking. Someone that feels a need to press up against you on the bus? Pervert. And also probably a Closetalker.


I have found that nothing works with these people. You back up and they move forward. You move away, and they follow. You leave entirely and they create some excuse as to why you left, never once examining the fact that perhaps their body was uncomfortably close to yours for no apparent reason. Even telling them straight, "Hey, you're extremely close to me right now." or, "What are you, some kind of Closetalker?" doesn't work! They just call you a bitch and go right on Closetalking, ruining enjoyable conversations and line-standing for innocent, normal-distance-talking and standing people everywhere! Our best defense is just to hold one foot out about ten inches in front of you and lean away from the Closetalker, while keeping your front foot firmly planted on the ground. This way you create a faux personal-space zone that the Closetalker cannot penetrate without stepping on your foot. If they ask why you're standing weird, ask them why they're standing weird and use the opportunity to politely breach the topic of personal space. Tell them about the invisible arm-bubble they can create.


I'm not posting a photo because I really don't want to encourage such annoying behavior. Join me saying "Uhhh...No." to Closetalkers everywhere.


Your Golden Girl,


Olive