STYLE ADVENTURE ETIQUETTE

Archive for the ‘Night Life’ Category

White Dogs Can’t Hump

In Adventure, Celebrity, Nemesis, Night Life on April 12, 2013 at 8:46 am

…that is, without the Godforsaken Tabloids Prying into their Private Affairs Constantly!
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Faithful readers,

I imagine you’ve all become increasingly agitated recently: reading all about my comings and goings — my goings and comings and the numerous fabricated and exaggerated tales of my supposed shenanigans, rabble-rousing and other malarkey the riff-raff tabloids have continued to propagate, notwithstanding the relentless efforts of my legal staff.  You’ve been anxious, I understand, for me to appear in this forum and yet again, set the record straight.

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I’ll have you know, I ordinarily don’t get out of bed for less than 10k.

I’d like to preface by mentioning and elaborating on the prequel to several presuppositions that may have been mercilessly thrust upon you by said media-satan-industrial-complex.

As you well know, 2012 was a tough year for the divine universe as a whole.  Without going into the nitty-gritty, dear readers, just look back on some of the biggest news stories of the year for crying out loud!  Awful, just awful.  Furthermore, according to my analyst, my numerologist and my parapsychologist, 2012 proved particularly difficult for a strong and determined yet innately sensitive soul like myself. 

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I was forced to spend months on end at a holistic spa at the beginning of 2013 being pampered, swaddled and massaged…just to cope! The horror!

Now, you’ve all known of the on-again/off-again flirtation and then affair I’d been carrying on with a certain Rottweiler over the course of several years.  At first, he seemed a rather solid and handsome fellow on the outside — albeit wounded from past experiences – as we all are.  Presumably, no real harm in that.

Eventually I could not deny, however, that there was an odd void — an aloofness in his gaze, an often severe glitch in his behaviour.  Over time, it became alarmingly clear that there were manifold subcutaneous afflictions.  Though it was vexing, indeed, to recently discover his deceitful and otherwise unsavory ways of the past, I was comforted to learn, in the end, that he’d been entirely inbred — and that the inbreeding had afflicted him with an awful irreversible condition including panic biting and schizoid personality disorder.  That — and the whole his-balls-being-cut-off-thing made him an entirely inappropriate suitor.

Also, it explained one kinky (unbeknownst to me!) night when I woke up shocked to see my gorgeous Italian leather collar had been chewed up to smithereens.  Eee gads!

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One particularly scandalous evening he wanted to wear this contraption and get into some “freaky shit.” I told him I’d pooped in his bed once, and that was as crazy as things were going to get.

Following the dissolution of the affair, I had several heart to heart conversations with my dear friend Emma, a Chocolate Lab with neurological problems.

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I see what you are thinking…just don’t.

It’s funny how Emma can sometimes be so wise when it comes to more complex matters of the heart or statistical sociology, but when it comes to things like not walking into parking meters, throwing herself into oncoming traffic or pooping in cross-walks, she can be so dim!  She is a country dog, after all.

Well it turned out dear Emma seemed to reinforce this absolutely dull, typical, insipid notion that is often thrown around in self-help manuals: “Are you being open enough?  Perhaps you are focusing too much on superficial qualities?”  Well I’m sorry, but advice makes me pout.

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BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

After that, I spent a bit of time trying to get my head on straight….which for me undoubtedly involves copious amounts of fine alcohol, towers of chilled shellfish, massages, spa retreats, amphetamines, fun European cough syrup, a PCP laced marijuana cigarette (I swear I didn’t know!!!) and an evening of Bolivian cocaine and Cuban cigars that culminated in the hot tub with several Icelandic Sheepdog male models.

WHAT?  A lady has her needs too.

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Just a whisper of vermouth s’il vous plait.

Then of course came the string of residual inappropriate suitors — a highly neurotic Whippet with horrible game, a needy Old English Sheepdog with pretentious conversational tendencies, and a really darling fun-loving Golden Retriever with absolutely no long-term potential.

A bit of time passed while I regrouped — then quite unexpectedly, while attending a society mixer, an American Hairless Terrier with a razor sharp wit and seemingly high potential appeared.  Well that fizzled out after he showed signs of split personality — a trait often associated with poor upbringing and training or being weaned from one’s mother too early — or is it too late?  One never knows these days.

Anywho, he later was seen out and about with an exceedingly plain Jill Russel terrier with an egregious yap and unsightly fur.  This is just what I’ve heard.  I’m only presenting the facts as they’ve come my way, you see.

So now, before you judge me, you must understand and agree that when one puts forth faith that a certain being is one way, and then that being turns out to be an entirely other way altogether…why it shakes up one’s faith in Dog!  And after all — as they say, “In Dog, We Trust”…

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As I’ve said before, a Lady has her needs, dammit!

Moving right along, I’m sure you’ve heard the exaggerated hubbub that followed: stories of my romantic rendezvoussssss in far off places, canoodling with a well known actor in the corner of the Washington Square Park dog run, being hit on by Taylor Swift at a late-night after party.

But my dear friends, I implore you — do not take this all at face value.  In the fast life — this life of fortune and fame — you’re dammed if you do, and dammed if you don’t.  I just can’t win!  And as Rosie Perez once said in “White Men Can’t Jump,” (tragically, this clip has been removed everywhere on the Internet):

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“Sometimes when you win, you really lose, and sometimes when you lose, you really win, and sometimes when you win or lose, you actually tie, and sometimes when you tie, you actually win or lose. Winning or losing is all one organic mechanism, from which one extracts what one needs.”

So like the hideous moth who hibernates in its own cocoon and emerges a glorious butterfly — or like the practically deformed young duckling who eventually emerges a graceful swan…I too shall overcome, even if it involves sedatives, a perfectly sculpted Latino cabana boy feeding me grapes (or preferably hot dog slices), a handle of Jack Daniels and watching mindnumingly awful but amazing movies for the next three weeks.

And so, my friends, until the sun comes out (and no, it won’t be tomorrow as I check accuweather.com every 15 minutes and hit refresh obsessively) I bid you adieu,

Lady Bianca Miller

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Heavy is the Head that Wears the Crown

In Adventure, Celebrity, Etiquette, Fashion, Nemesis, Night Life, Romance, Slander, Society, Style on October 29, 2011 at 3:47 pm

Dearest friends and loyal fans,

Admittedly, it has been quite sometime since you have heard from me.  Although I feel in no way obligated to, as a lady of clout and social stature, I find it prudent to recap an abridged version of my activities — my comings and goings since I left you last.  This is not an excuse — but merely an explanation for my extended sabatical from blogging.

As I have lamented before, life can be such a struggle for a lady of my position!  It is not all coming up roses and little pieces of cut up sausage for Lady Bianca Miller.  Behind the veneer of glamourous parties, fabulous events, and sordid love affairs — there is a dark side my friends, a dark side.

And because so much time has passed since I have shared with you in this forum, I shall edit fiercely and attempt to catch you up to date swiftly.  I left you last sometime just before Fashion week.  As you can imagine, I get dozens of invitations from people desiring me to attend their event, show or party even for a few moments!  And while I can’t accept them all, I am higlighting a few of many of the events I lent my fame to that week:

Here, front row at the Zac Posen show, I snapped a photo of my old pal Sessilee Lopez. Of course I was asked to walk the show but due to a strained paw, I was unable to accept the kind offer. I imagine it was somewhat for the best as I tend to overshadow the rest of the girls, and it is a good show of generosity of spirit to give others their time to shine.

Later, backstage, I caught up with my good friend Anna Wintour (you can see her pictured here seated front row, catty-corner from me). Of course we were originally supposed to sit next to each other so I could lend an ear to her sometimes tedious inquisitions into my aesthetic interpretations of the sartorial floor show, but there was a mix up in the seating arrangements and I, not wanting to cause a stir, decided to do the graceful thing and yield to any deliberation on the matter.

After attending countless other fashion shows that week, I found it proper to take my adoring staff to happy hour at Maison Premiere where they offer all varieties of superior bivalve molluscs, all at $1 a peice!  Imagine!  Naturally, we had to give them all a go:

The stunning ladies of Eponymy, Amanda and Claire, ready to indulge in celebration of Eponymy's 3rd birthday. Dry Kir Royales and oysters? Yes please!

Though curvy in the right areas, I am also blessed with a speedy metabolism and so I do fully enjoy the luxuries of partaking in a second course at none other than Fette Sau.

Of course we found it only proper to end the evening with a Miller High Life toast to Eponymy, MHL being our eponymous beverage.

In addition to our private celebration, I decided it would be kind to support the industry and allow others celebrate the 3rd birthday of my little shop, Eponymy, by throwing a small soiree:

Here I am at my little shop, Eponymy, with my dear friend who occasionally helps me get things together. Generally, she can be a bit lazy about things you know. It is just so difficult to find good help these days!

I was able to secure my friend Stephane Wrembel to play the party:

Stephane has composed and performed the soundtracks to Woody Allen's "Midnight in Paris" and "Vicky Christina Barcelona" among other achievements. It was a glorious evening of lovely Gypsy Jazz. I say, I do know how to throw a party!

There is a possibility that while rehashing old glory days with my dear artist friend Thomas Brown, who has sculpted my likeness (I am somewhat of a muse to him), I may have consumed one too many Miller High Life beverages.

The lovely Emma Hoette who is both an accomplished modern dancer and costume designer, was also enjoying drinks from our favorite neighborhood bar, Weatherup! Unfortunately, I may have also represented in an entirely different way by perhaps slightly overindulging on the delicious cocktail selection they offered.

Of course, what really put me over the top was when the rock and roll crowd came tearing through the gathering.  One of my absolute dearest friends in the world and talented singer and muse, Lisa Ronson, daughter of the late, legendary Bowie guitarist, Mick Ronson showed up (late of course).  You know how those rock and roll characters can be!  Well one moment I’m innocently sipping camomile tea in a quiet corner and the next moment I’m drinking straight from a bottle of Jack and breaking musical intruments over senior citizen’s heads!

Here is Miss Ronson looking uncharacteristically demure in the presence of uber design, branding and merchandising stylist extraordinaire Alan Rohwer.

Well, it wasn’t just wild child Ronson’s doing.  Soon enough my friends and neighbors Ian Hultquist and Sofia Degli Alessandri of Passion Pit and Aislyn joined us and I soon began to enter a dark territory I believe I have heard many rock and rollers call “shit-can-drunk.”

Captured here in an inordinately modest and reserved moment, as soon as the cameras were off, Ian and Sophia started ripping the heads off small animals with their (lovely) teeth!

Well I kept up appearances and socialized for as long as I could...

...but I am afraid towards the end of the evening I had to retire somewhat earlier than anticipated...

...and naturally exhausted from several long weeks of festivities, I had to be escorted upstairs to my more comfortable residential abode...

Single?  CALL ME.  718-789-0301.

That my friends, is when the evening took a disastrous turn towards the devastatingly scandalous. Somehow, delirious and still tipsy from the evening, I wound up in the bath with an on again/off again romantic interest of mine. I can only assume that whilst passing through, he saw the necklace around my neck (by Diament Designs) reading "Available" and assumed that I was interested in rekindling our relationship.

...and of course the next morning....

...amongst all the kerfuffle...My Nemesis arrived on the scene to catch me in an amorous embrace with my gentleman suitor, Meatball.

I will tell you one thing.  Meatball was a perfect gentleman, even bringing me a breakfast in bed of chili cheese and bacon hot dogs, crispy pork sandwich and bratwurst with bacon braised sauerkraut from his splendid little restaurant Bark Hot Dogs.

But I am afraid, however, as glamourous as all of this sounds, I awoke the next day in a first class seat to Palm Springs, Florida where I escaped for several intensive days of detoxification, yoga and spa so I could get my head on straight for crying out loud!

I find the sun salutations so grounding in this crazy, crazy world we live in.

Oh, the pressures of fame!  I’ll tell you, friends, New Yorkians and countrymen, it’s certainly not all it’s cracked up to be!

And that, my friends, although an abridged version, should catch you up to date on my activities over the past few.  Pity me?  Gracious no!  I am a strong woman of substance and persistance and I shall laugh wholeheartedly and maybe even cough up an undesirable piece of phlegm (it is cold season now) in the cruel face of adversity.

With much due respect to my faithful fans,

Bianca Miller

Walk of Fame

In Adventure, Celebrity, Night Life, Society on August 21, 2011 at 12:21 am

Greetings darling ones,

As many of you probably know entirely too well…it is just SO difficult to find good help these days!  Egads!

Particularly when one finds oneself inexorably thrust into the public spotlight as often as yours truly, one needs to be able to rely on fine gentlemen of the ample and lofty persuasion.  This little post is dedicated to my squires of the night, the men who protect and serve me.  My, ehem, watchdogs.

Daniel and Dominique, the finest personal security detail this side of the Gowanus Canal, coming to my rescue one Friday evening when I became absolutely overwhelmed by enamored fans and bothersome Paparazzi.

Antoine calls on Sir Michael for back up one exceedingly perturbing evening when I was bombarded by a pack of wild and worshiping fans.

It was rumoured I particpated in an affair of an unsavory nature with squire Dominique but that of course is rubbish! Pure rubbish I say!

And that, my friends, is a tiny window into the life of a true Star.  It’s not always as glamorous as it’s cracked up to be. Goodness gracious me.

Mindfully yours,

Bianca Miller

Bartender is the Night

In Celebrity, Night Life, Philanthropy, Society on August 4, 2011 at 12:20 am

Hello my pretties.

Isn’t it lovely when two of your favorite things arrive in one package?

If, like me, you find this heat to be reaching your upper threshold of comfort, may I suggest it be taken as a cue to catch up on some much needed reflection. Although the white color of my coat is perfect for bouncing back the sun’s harshest rays, I do find myself crossing the line from glowing to perspiring if I attempt any physical activity while wearing fur. Therefore I like to spend my city time in July indoors, ideally with a refreshing cordial of some kind. Nothing quite calms the senses like an expertly served Pimms I always say! Which brings me to the first of my favorite things: Brooklyn bartenders.

Having been in the privileged position of residing in this fine borough since my social debut, I have come to know and frequent some truly fabulous watering holes. Inevitably, my discerning eye has been drawn to those barkeeps whose deportment and repartee never fail to delight. I have found that my very favorites tend to share certain traits which I will, in turn, share with you.

My ideal bartender is a snappy dresser with a monosyllabic name like Paul, John or Floyd. They will be neither aloof nor overbearing but rather will, on occasion, share exotic tales from southern states. They will read interesting books and keep their money not in the bank but in gold. In times of great distress they will even encourage you to order your drink by specifying a liquor and an adjective. Indeed one of the most life affirming beverages I have ever tasted was presented to me in response to the description of ‘bourbon’ and ‘forlorn’. To further salve my soul this was accompanied by a touching description of Degas’ The Absinthe Drinker, which fit my mood perfectly.

The second of my favorite things is of course a man with a heart. Nothing in this world warms my soul in quite the same way. And so it is that when I first heard of The Barman’s Fund I was filled with a delicious cocktail of sensations, capturing everything from lust to pride to altruistic bliss – and back to lust again. In their own words their mission is simple,  ‘a bunch of bartenders take every penny they make on the first shift of the month and pool it, and then give it to various charities (Figuring that most community charities would much rather have 6 hrs of tips than 6 hrs of us washing dishes).’ This, I found myself thinking, is surely one of the most enjoyable ways to multitask, spending social and charitable time at once.

A glorious specimen of manhood, our dear friend John (he graces the bar at both the Vanderbilt and Weatherup) of The Barman's Fund braves the lines of target to buy diapers for nearby CHIPS maternity shelter.

I’m also happy to say the man behind the fund is an old friend, Floyd. I have a great deal of lovely things to say about him but fear I would make him blush. So I will leave it to you to see for yourselves – if you find yourself in Prospect Heights he’ll be the dapper gentleman behind the bar at The Vanderbilt.

Stopped by for a summer afternoon of bar therapy with Sir Floyd and a thumble full of Eponymy's eponymous Miller High Life.

Charitably yours,

Bianca Miller

Bianca Miller High Life

In Adventure, Etiquette, Nemesis, Night Life, Slander, Society on June 23, 2011 at 3:41 pm

As many of my closest friends know from experience, being a public figure in New York City has its advantages and disadvantages. In fame, as in life, you have to take the créme bruleé with the reduced fat non dairy cream cheese, so to speak.

Far be it from me to complain but I feel I must also make a stand to protect my privacy, my stature and indeed my hard-earned reputation as a lady of style, grace, humor and modesty.

I am referring, of course, to the sustained, unjustified and frankly disturbing nature of the sullying of my name carried out by the person I refer to, for legal reasons, only as My Nemesis.

While answering a run of the mill question on modern dining etiquette by a delightful visitor to our store, I was discussing the relative suitability of various summer drink options available to the fashionable girl about town. Having recommended some fine wines (I have been VERY keen on Grüner Veltliner lately) available from our friends at Sip, I went on to describe those drinks which were to be avoided at all costs; appletinis, anything endorsed by a rapper, beverages with bright colors not found in nature, and any beer that is not Eponymy’s eponymous beer: (Bianca) Miller High Life of course — “The Champagne of Beers.”

Now there is a time to drink, and a time for business.  Sometimes they intermingle, often they don’t.  In order to fully demonstrate the ungainly figure cut by a lady with a beverage at an unsuitable time of day, I kindly offered to pose beside a glass of beer during business hours. Naturally, this was solely for the purposes of instructing an eager student.

In a heinous act of malice and misrepresentation, this very moment was captured by My Nemesis and subsequently distributed to various gossip columnists around the city as a shameful attempt to paint me as a fallen woman.

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Of course, not such a long time later, while socializing with business associates at one of my local spots, The Flatbush Farm, the press showed up to document my whereabouts and captured me in several compromising angles making it appear as if I am overly enthusiastic and concerned about social lubrication.

I was merely chuckling at a preposterous comment my dear friend made regarding the paradox of the human condition!

Here I was simply grinning regarding a series of simply hil-ar-ious military-industrial complex knock-knock jokes told by my favorite bartender.

So you can see, as a socialite and philanthropist I simply must make public appearances and rub elbows with the elite.  But you can also ascertain how an innocent appearance can be turned into a false portrait of debauchery.  I’m just beside myself!

Just a year ago, you can take note of another photo captured by My Nemesis during a party beneifiting the arts.

See here, my gentleman friend slipped and I ended up falling into the beer. It was an absolutely frightening experience!

THEN — and this is an extreme example of privacy violation, I was holidaying at my darling country home in Guilford, Connecticut, relaxing by the pool with an afternoon beer, when I was bombarded by those awful paparazzi!  Now Guilford is a beautiful, relatively unscathed town that has not yet fallen victim to the precious, overly manicured towns of the more populated areas of Fairfield County.  How on Earth did they locate me there!

If one can't enjoy an afternoon beer at one's country home in peace for crying out loud, what on Earth is the world coming to!

And so it falls to me to firmly deny any wrongdoing and leave it to my trust in you, my dear friends, to judge who is wrong and who is sorely in need of litigation.

Yours indignantly,

Bianca Miller

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