A penchant to go a-trenchin'

Before I introduce you to the selection of under-$200 trenches no fewer than eight of you have requested from me in the past week, let me first apologize and offer an explanation for my recent unannounced leave of absence.

You see, last Friday after work, I allowed myself to be convinced by Jennifer to kibosh my plan to switch from OPI's 'Midnight in Moscow' back to the old standby 'Black Onyx' and instead try the (for me) very daunting, very seemingly iridescent purplish-blue 'Russian Navy'. As soon as that second coat dried and I received the all-important 'yes, now you can go' nod from Ms. F, however, every last doubt I had in rocking the luxe deep-blue vanished.

'Cause. It. Is. The. Sh*t.

But as is usually the case, with every blessed style discovery brings with it a burden to shoulder. From the moment I exited PIAF's double doors four days ago, I've had so many on-the-street compliments to field and so many "Could you write that name - Russian what was it?' - down?" pleads to indulge that I simply collapsed into an I'm-taking-a-long-weekend heap on the couch and did abso-toot-ley nothing but drink cans of Diet Sunkist and watch on-repeat episodes of the new season of "Lockup San Quentin: Extended Stay" on MSNBC.

Okay fine, I was really in Ohio for three days and too busy eating pumpkin cookies smothered in caramel icing, laughing my ladybits off in Superbad and kickin' ass in the 'fastpitch softball' batting cage to think about much else.

But for serious, I did get a lot of compliments, including one from patter-downer LaShonda at the airport in Dayton who even insisted, post-patdown, I paint her pinky nail so she could see the in-the-bottle-versus-on-the-nail difference for herself.

Oh, and yes, that is a Monte hair, like a feather plume, proudly perched in between the first and second folds of my peep-toe's satin rosette. It's like I always tell him right before a separation, be he in the care of good friends L, M, H or, as he was this weekend, the watchful staff in the rolling hills of his private pet sanctuary, baby boy is always still right here (patting heart) with Mommy.

Without any further random tangents, here, dear readers, are your coats. Your trenchcoats:

Satin trench ($138 at victoriassecret.com)*

Puff-sleeve trench by Tulle ($98 at styleviolet.com)
Floral-lined trench by Priorities ($158 at southmoonunder.com)

Double-breasted trench by Ben Sherman ($184 at southmoonunder.com)

Drop-sleeve trench (£85 at topshop.com)

Trench with bubble hem ($69.99 at target.com)

Swing skirt trench by French Connection ($141 at amazon.com)

Alden trench by G by Guess ($79.50 at amazon.com) English trench coat ($49 at forever21.com)

Gala trench by Soia & Kyo ($196 at tobi.com)*

Belted trench with zip liner by London Fog ($158 at nordstrom.com)

*your Editrix's top picks

As classy as a non-British guy who drops the c-word

Do you remember how little-girl-plays-dress-up Lindsay Lohan looked earlier this Summer as the guest of honor at the Maxim 'Hot 100' fête in her all sorts of rainbow Hervé Léger halter dress?

I can just picture her alongside her LiLo-in-training little sister Allie, deluded but sure, thinking aloud, "This will be the perfect way to show the world just how 'hot' I am."

Every time I see a woman sporting 10 opaque-white stripes across the tops of her toenails, I can't help but think of Lindsay and her technicolor dress. My tendency to immediately associate the two isn't because I recognize between them a shared brand of tackiness (though that is the thought immediately following) but rather that both were the direct result of an extremely misguided pretense.

Teaching a 21-year-old celebutante whose own mother can't seem to tell the difference between trashy and classy why a super tight, super short, super bright mini dress doesn't a talented actress imply is an endeavor for which I neither have the influence nor the patience; clearing up the ubiquitous myth that the most sophisticated way to climb down from the massage chair after a $45-plus-tip pedicure is to have one's toes resemble one's fingers, however, is a duty with which I'm more than pleased-as-punch to be charged.

Habits are hard to break, this I know only too well, but assumed truths, those you've been taught from a young age, those you've blindly accepted and likely passed onto others -- those are the ones you never think to question and that ultimately turn out to be the most difficult to leave behind.

But let's take a moment and look at this picture. I mean, really and objectively look at it. Sure, this isn't the most neatly-applied polish job, the most appealing set of toes or the most elegant pair of lobster-emblazoned grosgrain-ribbon-trimmed flip-flops, but even so, the point I'm trying to make, that the correlation between toes fashioned to look like fingers and high-class is utterly nonsensical, rings loudly and clearly.


And if you need more proof than just, oh I don't know, my opinion, I encourage you to watch an episode or two of the WE Network's can't-take-your-eyes-off-it trainwreck, "Bridezillas." The first tanorexic Long Island bride who demands her ladies-in-waiting spackle foundation over their ankle tatts and adhere to her "Crystal Elegance"-themed wedding with French mani/pedis might not convince you to step away from the stripes of "Birthday Babe," but keep watching, because with each and every class-act thereafter who, without fail, imposes the same nail uniform, you will begin to see before your very eyes the crystallization of a different correlation.

Just sayin'.

So please, join my girlfriends and me in putting a stop to the spread of the oh-so-creepy and oh-so-played-out finger-toes and opt instead for a lovely shade of 'A-List,' 'Midnight in Moscow' (see below) or, for the lower-maintenance among you, the muted Fiji Weejee Fawn or just a simple and fresh, clear-shine.

Your cooperation on this matter would make Monte oh-so-happy.

Finally, the first colors of Fall have arrived!

Aside from having to set an alarm after a too-short two-day respite, my least favorite Monday morning exercise is opening up my Microsoft Outlook and seeing four or five pesky "reminder" boxes pop up and alert me to the fact that I have two early morning meetings, a double-booked lunch and a happy hour with that World Bank guy I met on the street to whom I was too nice and somewhere in between telling him, yes, I did realize my dress was chic and answering his inane question about how I was able to pull off the "hot and smart 'look'" so effortlessly, agreed to meet at McCormick & Schmick's for a drink.

My scowl growing more pronounced with each "dismiss" click through, I thought to myself, "Great, this is going to be a really f**king great way to start the week."

But then, totally unexpectedly, the last of my five reminders sent my curled bottom lip straight back out into its default pleased-with-life pout.

Today, according to the little blue-on-grey-on-white box, is the day OPI releases its new Russian-inspired Fall 2007 Collection.

наконец-то!

Though I always keep my fingers polish-free from May 31st through September 1st both to give my nails a rest from the abuse they endure the other eight months of the year and because I love the look of tan hands against clear, healthy nail-beds, looking at so-dark-they're-almost-black colors like "Midnight in Moscow," "Russian Navy," "Boris & Natasha" and "St. Peters Burgundy" are tempting me to break with tradition and give Jennifer at PIAF a quick "Can you please fit me in today?" call.

I have a sneaking feeling that just like the Deliciously Dark collection from last year, these richly mixed and reasonably priced polishes will go quickly (yes, even in DC), so get that задница in gear, head over to any nail salon that doesn't require its aestheticians wear surgical masks and pick up your favorite color(s) today!

The entire collection:*

(L to R: Midnight in Moscow, Siberian Nights, Russian Navy, Suzi Says 'Da!')
(L to R: St. Peters Burgundy, An Affair in Red Square, Vodka & Caviar, Ruble For Your Thoughts)

(L to R: Boris & Natasha, Catherine the Grape, Kreme de la Kremlin, Cosmo-Not Tonight, Honey)

*photos courtesy of www.alllacqueredup.com