2 Jun 2011, 2:58pm
Food & Wine French Life Girl Talk Shopping:
by
Comments Off on Duking It Out with the Dukan Diet and Then Opting for Octavin

Duking It Out with the Dukan Diet and Then Opting for Octavin

Octavin:  My Knight in Shining Armor

Octavin: My Knight in Shining Armor

For some people one of the hardest things about dieting is giving up favorite foods such as chocolate, cheese and wine. Deprivation depresses me, but I was also feeling pretty bummed out about my tight pants and an emerging muffin top this past April. It seems totally unjust that by the end of each ski season my jeans can barely make it over my thighs and my butt feels like a little trailer albeit a more solidly-built one. But still.

No, you don’t see many skinny ski instructors. We feed on a steady supply of chili, pizza, French fries, hot chocolate and après-ski beers. You need that kind of fuel when you spend extended hours out in the cold. This year though I could tell the extra poundage was creeping up faster than ever before (must be that age thing!). My ski pants were so tight by early March that I began to feel like the Michelin man.

So around the time of the royal wedding—after having heard about Kate Middleton’s dieting success and after having consumed umpteenth celebratory scones—I decided to go on a diet. I, of course, opted for the Dukan Diet since that’s the one that allowed Kate to go down a whole dress size. Plus this much-talked about regime was created by Pierre Dukan, a Frenchman. I had tried the Montignac, another diet designed by a Frenchman, years ago when I lived in France. So I figured I owed it to my all-around French experience to attempt this one as well.

more »

Mountain Glam

Rita Styling a Queen B

Rita Styling a Queen B

We’re in the throes of monsoon season right now and this year the rains seem to be bigger than ever. The sun shines brightly most mornings but the clouds move in in the afternoon and when that happens, you better be back from your hike by then. Or else, ka boom!

Yes, most do hike or bike here in Colorado, visitors included. And in the winter we ski. It really is all about the great outdoors. Don’t you know that Coloradans are the fittest people in the country?

But don’t let all this outdoor life fool you. Many of the women here—especially in our smart mountain towns—are incredibly sophisticated and know how to pull off casual chic with (seemingly) the utmost of ease. Like in France, the look here is totally au naturel. The trick, however, is that it takes just the right approach to achieve a fresh-faced natural look, especially when the air is so dry that crevices as big as a mountain ravine can easily form on your face. As for hair, you need to find a cut that accommodates limp and lifeless because without much humidity, you can bet your coif isn’t going to boast much bounce.

And how do you feel about hat hair? Now, that’s clearly a place French women don’t want to go. No matter how cold it is outside, most French women (actually men, too) don’t dare mess up their hairstyles by wearing a hat, especially a snug-fitting knit one, pretty much the only type that will truly keep you warm. Stylish chapeaux are still quite acceptable yet few of them provide any real warmth. Here in Colorado we suffer from hat hair practically year-round. (It’s not unusual to wear a down jacket and a knit hat on a summer’s night. Few sundresses and sandals after sundown unless you pile on a plush fleece.)

We could easily look like a bunch of tired, flat-haired mountain women if we didn’t learn how to combat the elements with our best defense: a good hair cut and color and dewy makeup. Like everyone else, I sometimes get stuck in a rut and find myself doing my hair and makeup pretty much the same way I’ve done it for decades. This is why I occasionally mix it up, try a different stylist and then even have my makeup professionally applied, all out of necessity and fun.

I was carried through the winter by a color and cut I received from Kat at The Peaks Resort & Spa Salon here in Telluride. She deftly cut my short to mid-length hair in cascading layers so that it would fluff around my face, hat on or off. We went dark with the color since my hair gets so bleached out on the slopes in the winter. (You want to be sure to have nice tufts of hair sticking out of your hat to frame your face, but boy do they get damaged.)

We completed my re-do with a makeup application that as Kat said, “Looked as though we had made unnoticeable efforts toward beauty.” Truly I glowed and I was not surprised to learn that the Jane Iredale makeup she used is entirely mineral based since it made my skin feel silky smooth. It also rendered my face nearly flawless! This makeup redefines the expression “keep it simple” since it’s a foundation, concealer, powder and sunscreen all in one. Quench and sunscreen? That’s pretty hard to find, particularly in a palette of such natural colors. What a great high altitude brand.

Jane Iredale's Natural Look

Jane Iredale's Earthy Tones

Almost unbelievably, that cut and color carried me through until the end of ski season when I finally paid a visit to Queen B Salon in Aspen. With the motto “Every Woman a Queen,” I felt right at home. Rita, the owner, an attractive woman of un certain age, has undoubtedly seen a few queen bees in the forty-five years she’s been doing hair. But why not indulge us? And here, amongst an extraordinary collection of tiaras, beauteous baubles and other fun girly goods, that’s exactly what Rita does. Plus she knows how to do hair. She gave me a color and cut that got rid of my chewed up ends from ski season and transformed me into a more style-y babe. She decided to go with an edgy look, flat ironed my hair and smoothed out the ends with oil. (Now that’s a woman who knows the challenges of a dry climate.) I bought my first flat iron here and chuckled to myself that I can get this effect by donning a ski cap for an hour although unfortunately that doesn’t guarantee even flat distribution from end to end.

“Any particular look right now in Aspen?” I asked Rita.

“Most women have long hair,” she responded. “Blond. It gets really boring.”

I looked around the room and spotted a supply of hair extensions, hair pieces and clips. Rita explained that all the add-ons were made of natural hair of the finest quality. Mostly blond of course. I’m an anomaly here in the Rockies, I suppose.

“The problem with American men is that they’re so attached to long hair. They want all their women to look like cheerleaders,” Rita continued.

Clearly I had become Europeanized with my brunette bob.

I doubt her complaints were heartfelt though since this so-called ingenue look surely keeps her business churning. I began to think of all the highlights and hair extensions required to achieve that natural, outdoorsy look so prized in the mountains. Add to that the already excessive need for conditioning treatments and a variety of other potions and formulas, and you begin to understand that it takes beaucoup bucks to become naturally beautiful in the Rockies.

Next stop: The Cos Bar, the place to shop for makeup and beauty products in Aspen. It’s perhaps the best place in Colorado. Located in some thirteen chichi destinations across the U.S., Cos Bar actually originated in Aspen in 1976. Indeed this glam emporium reminds me of the many high-styled parfumeries you find throughout France where you can pick up everything from a bottle of Chanel No. 5 to a tube of Dior lipstick.

I settled in for a full makeup application. (Typically the girls here only make you up partially, let’s say to try out a particular look on your eyes. But I asked for the works. Hey, it was almost off season.) I walked out with a luscious, lightly made up look. For best results, pick up a Laura Mercier tinted moisturizer, one of Cos Bar’s bestsellers, Aspenites’ secret weapon that comes in eight shades.  If you’re looking for a more striking look for evening, you’ll also find it here since the ladies in this town get pretty dolled up once the sun goes down.

So here I am now, back in my living room, sitting on my couch with my MacAir on my lap, writing. I still don’t understand why my skin and hair don’t feel softer with all these monsoonal rains. The humidity is at 40%, but I suspect that pales to what saturates the rest of the country these days. My tan is fading so fast that soon I’ll look like a mountain dumpling. I’m contemplating a trip to The Peaks for a spray tan. Like a good mountain spa, they know how to give you a natural summer radiance. I’m also thinking the sales should be pretty good in their Spa Boutique right now. They always have sales actually—on the best of products.

I’ve just realized that I’ve lived good chunks of my life in two lands fairly obsessed with beauty: France and the Rocky Mountains. You wouldn’t guess that of the latter but believe me, looking good is pretty important here. Being tanned and fit is part of the way of life in Colorado. And it’s no secret you must have the right hair and make up to go with this look. If you don’t, you look like a tourist. And no one wants to look like that, even if you are one. Don’t you agree?

The Peaks Resort & Spa, 136 Country Club Drive, Telluride, 800-772-5482, ThePeaksResort.com/spa

Queen B Salon, 112 South Mill Street, Aspen, 970-920-4300, QueenBSalon.com

The Cos Bar, 309 South Galena Street, Aspen, 970-925-6249, CosBar.com

The Peaks Spa Boutique

The Peaks Spa Boutique

My number #1 make up tip: Do not wear make up when you’re skiing, hiking, biking or doing anything else in the great Rocky Mountains. If you do, you’ll look completely out-of-place. Tinted moisturizer (and sunscreen) as well as lip gloss on these athletic occasions are more than O.K. If you’re like me, you may want to cheat by leaving your mascara and liner on from the night before. A little smudged eye enhancement not only looks natural, but oh-so sexy, too. We are after all resourceful here in the mountains.

12 Nov 2009, 1:57pm
Girl Talk New York Restaurants:
by
Comments Off on New York Splendor

New York Splendor

Eleven Madison Park

Eleven Madison Park

Serendipity and travel go together like food and wine.  It’s usually the chance encounters or haphazard discoveries that occur along the way that make the difference in your journey, even if that trip lasts only a short while.

This was my experience on a recent flash visit to New York City.  I was to spend just under thirty hours in this bustling metropolis, primarily focused on the more business aspects of my work.  There was little time for travel writing research per se, so I knew I’d have to catch a story on the fly.  My best bet for finding my travel highlight was lunch on the second day when my good friend, Jane (see Gallery Going with the Ladies from Larchmont), was to meet me before I headed out of town.

I counted on Jane—someone who seems to be in the know about just about everything most of the time—to provide the restaurant suggestion.  She proposed Tabla, a swanky Indian restaurant, convenient for us both.  We didn’t call ahead and when I arrived, they apologized that they were exceptionally closed that day for lunch.  The rain was falling in sheets outside and I practically begged for another recommendation close by.  I was informed that their sister property, Eleven Madison Park, was just next door.

“Isn’t that expensive?”  I couldn’t help blurting out, aware nonetheless that these sort of remarks are more than acceptable during these challenging times.

“They have a $28. prix fixe menu,” Kevin, the manager at Tabla, replied.

I made a quick calculation in my head, figuring the price of at least one glass of wine, a coffee, tax and gratuity.  I had just come from my publisher, St. Martin’s Press, located nearby in the Flat Iron Building and possessed more of a sense of optimism about the publishing world than I had in a while.  It felt right.

I placed a call to Jane and made it a go.  A wave of excitement hit me as I realized I was about to experience the restaurant in New York that I really wanted to go to some day.  I had read a review of Eleven Madison Park in The New York Times a few months ago, one of the last written by Frank Bruni, their renowned restaurant critic, who bestowed four-stars upon this beloved New York dining establishment.  His description of this superior dining establishment was so vivid that I easily imagined myself seated in the restaurant enjoying a superlative meal with a glass or two of wine.

more »

Gallery Going with the Ladies from Larchmont

I met my friend Jane fresh out of college when we worked at the Pucker Safrai art gallery together in Boston.  In addition to being incredibly smart, creative and witty, Jane’s always very up-to-the-minute with everything from the latest cooking utensil to this season’s hottest nail color.  (That happens to be Opi’s Moon over Mumbai—a sort of lavender grey—one of those small, yet necessary tidbits I learned when she teased me about my freshly applied ruby red, aptly named After Sex.  I thought that shade would be fun and fresh with my summer togs, but what’s a mountain girl to know anyway?)  So when Jane told me about a planned excursion to Neue Galerie, one of Manhattan’s more recent additions to the arts scene that showcases German and Austrian art, I jumped at the chance to go along.

Our outing was to include Jane’s friend, another very snappy gal from Larchmont, her mother-in-law and Jane’s daughter, a lovely young lady in her mid teens that I later discovered had clearly adopted her mother’s interest in the arts.  Both Jane and her friend looked particularly chic in stylish dresses that would have also worked well for a sophisticated garden party.  (Jane aptly dubbed her cream-colored linen shift very Frieda Callo.)  Standing there in my well cut jean bermudas and colorful, clingy top, I was almost sorry I hadn’t taken it up a notch.  Thank goodness I wore my beautiful, glass beads.

“You look very mountain-like, MB,” Jane observed without an ounce of snootiness.  She tossed me a purple pashmina.  “Here, that’s perfect.  Just the right touch of namasté.  You’ll need it for the museum.”

I had grown accustomed to a life without air conditioning in Colorado and was constantly amazed that the A.C. was cranked so high in other parts of the country.

We chatted excitedly the whole drive into the city.  I learned that women in Larchmont were very possessive about sharing their babysitters’ names and numbers, a seemingly disconcerting matter for Jane and her friend.

“That’s how it is with French women and their recipes,” I explained.  “Most only do a few signature dishes and they don’t like to share their recipes for fear that their spécialités might show up at someone else’s dinner party.”

We all scoffed at that.  “Yes, I was even convinced at one point that one of my former sisters-in-law would deliberately leave out an ingredient or two so that her recipe could not be duplicated.  I would make these cakes that would be total flops,” I trailed off.

Entrance to Galerie Neue

Entrance to Neue Galerie

We laughed and commiserated about about some of the more tedious aspects of life until we pulled up in front of a handsome mansion on the upper east side.  By now we were starved, so we decided to lunch first and look later.  Entering the Café Sabarsky at Neue Galerie was like stepping into  a fine dining room in Vienna.  Dark wood paneling, wooden floors, floral-covered velvet banquettes, little marble café tables and heavy draperies wrapped us in an Old World warmth that we soon realized was more important than ever with the A.C.-induced Arctic chill that blasted us as soon as we walked in the door.  We settled in and began to order coffees and lunch.

Café Sabarsky

The five of us almost hurried through our selections of goulash soup, smoked trout, Weiner Schnitzel and salads in anticipation of the desserts to follow.  (We had already scoped out gorgeous cakes and tortes on the long, marble sideboard on the other side of the room upon entering.)   A rich assortment of treats was later served up with more coffee and in my case, hot chocolate, the perfect accompaniment to an Apfelstrudel on a cold winter’s day.  (Instead of complaining any more about the frosty air, I decided to make it a good excuse for being extra decadent.)

Grand Staircase

Grand Staircase

Finally we were ready to stroll through the exhibition rooms.  We delighted separately, all together and sometimes one-on-one in viewing the many fine works on display here from original furnishings to superbly crafted jewelry.  I paused at great length in front of a glittering painting by Gustav Klimt.  Clearly some of the finest examples of Austrian-German creativity were prominently featured within this nearly six-year old museum.  Neue Galerie is a small gem whose jewel box-like interior is as alluring as the goods inside.  Our hearts had been warmed by all the beauty we took in within this elegant space; our bodies were glad to meet the hot summer air outside.

Neue Galerie New York, 1048 Fifth Avenue, 212-628-6200, www.neuegalerie.org

Café Sabarsky is open for breakfast, lunch and dinner (and for lots of tea, coffee and drinks in between) everyday but Wednesday; 212-288-0665.

6 Sep 2008, 4:18pm
French Life Girl Talk New York Restaurants Travel:
by
Comments Off on Franco-American Girl Talk

Franco-American Girl Talk

I was to top off my time in the West Village with my dear friend Michèle, another single woman and une vraie franco-américaine, raised by a French mother and an American father.  Plus she has lived almost equal time in Paris and New York, so she clearly has a handle on both worlds.  For us to meet in New York was a particular treat since she had always been one of my friends from Paris.  I was relying upon her more and more for updates on la vie parisienne.

We tucked ourselves into the corner banquette at Alexandra, another one of the West Village’s charming little restaurants on Hudson Street.  After ordering salads, soupe à l’oignon gratinée and a couple of French Chardonnays, we jumped right in to one of our favorite subjects:  zee French.

“So how are the French doing these days?”  I asked.

“They’re still complaining a lot, but they do continue to enjoy a nice quality of life,” she replied.

“It sounds as though not much has changed since when I lived there.”

Our conversation soon shifted to French men, a far more interesting subject.

“I hope they’re still very charming and that they have remained as attentive as ever toward their women,” I said.

“French men do know how to flirt,” Michèle replied.  “But there’s often nothing behind it.”

“Flirting does make life more fun,” I added.  “I miss that about France.  I don’t think there’s enough flirting here in the U.S.   I always enjoy a titillating exchange.”

“Well I guess men on both sides of the Atlantic still know how to whip out the charm to seduce,” Michèle added.

I pondered this last comment for a while, replaying certain recent encounters in my head.  

“And do French men continue to maintain mistresses?”  I asked, changing the subject just enough so as not to delve headfirst into my own litany of love relationships.  At least not right away.  “People always ask me about that here in America.  I think that’s something that fascinates Americans about the French.”

“That is still more of a reality than a myth,” Michèle answered reflectively.  “I think it’s class specific.  It’s more open and accepted in the haute bourgeoisie.  Many French people live separate lives and are very frank about it.  I know a lot of people that do this.”

“I guess in America people go ahead and split up despite the financial and emotional consequences,” I ventured.  “In France, people live it out until they sort it out.”

We continued chatting about the differences between the French and Americans, a big frame of reference for us both.

“So what else is new?”

“You’ve heard the French are crazy about Carla Bruni, right?”  Michèle asked.

“Oh yes, I know.  I’m not that much out of the loop.”

Alexandra, After the Girls Were Gone

Alexandra, After the Girls Were Gone

 

Alexandra, 455 Hudson Street, 212-255-3838, www.nymag.com/listings/restaurant/alexandra

  • Follow A Tour of the Heart

     Follow A Tour of the Heart
  • Email Newsletter icon, E-mail Newsletter icon, Email List icon, E-mail List icon Sign Up Today for My Email Newsletter
    For Email Marketing you can trust
  • Categories

  • Recent Posts

  • Ads



  • Meta

  • Disclosure

    This blog is a personal blog written and edited by Maribeth Clemente. This blog sometimes accepts forms of cash advertising, sponsorship, paid insertions or other forms of compensation. The compensation received may influence the advertising content, topics or posts made in this blog. That content, advertising space or post may not always be identified as paid or sponsored content. The owner of this blog is sometimes compensated to provide opinion on products, services, Web sites and various other topics. Even though the owner of this blog receives compensation for certain posts or advertisements, she always gives her honest opinions, findings, beliefs or experiences on those topics or products. The views and opinions expressed on this blog are purely the blogger's own. Any product claim, statistic, quote or other representation about a product or service should be verified with the manufacturer, provider or party in question. This blog does not contain any content which might present a conflict of interest.
  • Permission

    Please note that unless otherwise attributed to someone else, the content that appears on this Web site/blog is the property of the author, Maribeth Clemente. Written permission is required if you choose to use or excerpt any of this material.