summer prep part II

Eurotrash has been notoriously spotted wearing new dior "faceshields" (a eurotrash neologism for sunglasses - because we started wearing them before they became a quotidian requisite. remember my transparent gucci shields sans frame from '03?) and smoking haute couture cigarettes (whether u inhale or not). 

It started with decadent, pearl-filtered Cartier cigarettes and since then, eurotrash has been in hot pursuit of sleek, pseudo-accessories signed by the revered house of Yves Saint Laurent.  They are eurotrash's current enigma da risolvere. 

As Isabelle, chained to the Cinematheque, asks Matthew to remove her cigarette in an oh-so-sultry way in the famous scene from The Dreamers, eurotrash gets her raison d'être. After all, Antonioni-style yacht adventures in the medi could spur existential moments where the only way out is by reading Sartre while getting a cute boy to strike a match and light your penchant for indulgence. 

There are moments when you have the impression that you can do what you want, go forward or backward, that it has no importance; and then other times when you might say that the links have been tightened and, in that case, it's not a question of missing your turn because you could never start again 
- Jean-Paul Sartre 

summer prep

now that i've finished my reading list exams (specialization in an esoteric topic is soooo eurotrash), i thought i'd more diligently update this blog. thus i begin professing my obsession and my downfall: fashion. though i know i have enough to wear this summer, images of myself with tear-streaked cheeks and clumps of hair in my hands, rended in frustration by my lack of appropriately beachy-cool attire for the amalfi coast keep flashing before my eyes. a eurotrash girl may not have enough money to get on the bus but she certainly always has something sufficiently fashion-y to wear. so i keep buying and buying and buying more and more and more pieces. everytime its the last internet purchase, the last visit to aritizia, the last peek in holts but it never really is, is it? my pink laptop has wrought the most damage, forcing me to gaze everyday at sites rife with that one piece that would complete my summer wardrobe and bring it to utter perfection. what can i do to fight when it has even memorized my visa number and enters it perfectly everytime when i'm contemplating making a purchase, taunting me that i don't even need to get up from my bed at 12:00 AM to up my bikini ante by three new suits? my latest find are these dior glasses and i've convinced myself that my look will be lacklustre and incomplete, that all the money i've "invested" in my beachy look will be lost without these. crusing the medi (my new eurotrash term for THE ONLY sea to vacation on) with long locks, skin burnished by a patina of golden tan and nothing on your mind but what to wear that night to positano requires these glasses. i'm sure you will agree.

INTROUCTION TO EUROTRASH

this is a new blog. however, the idea of the eurotrash lifestyle was conceived long ago.

it was july, it was florence. we were 18. we had no money but what we spent at prada and luisa via roma. we never smiled, we walked around with our tongues hanging out and when we weren't having coffee at gilli we would watch music videos on mtv or hang-out at villas in the tuscan countryside with slick florentine men who wore jeans with holes in them. we were eurotrash. this summer is the revitilization, the renaissance of eurotrash. 9 weeks of trash in amalfi begins june 30th, 2009. who goes to italy on a shoestring bugdet but goes yachting everyday? who can't afford to pay rogers wireless but has a $3000 bag? who walks to save a token but goes clubbing in positano? you got it: eurotrash does.
...whatever.

Eurotrash:

(oxi-moron) One whose effortlessly impeccable style, tasteful understated elegance, and continent-hopping savoire vivre, is manifested in one's daily presentation---including, but not limited to: choice of words (few and articulate; loudness only permitted for Italians...from Italy, not Jersey); multilingual accent (reflecting upbringing by French nanny, German-Swiss headmaster at boarding school in St. Moritz, and a touch of "ivy-league American" from countless summers at parent's Easthampton residence and study period at Brown);choice of clothing (at least 3 pieces orchestrated in natural fabrics of varying textures and varying coordinated colours--but not varying quality--only the finest, bien sur); places frequented (ultra-modern Ian Schrager hang-outs, gourmet shops, 'historical districts', museum cafes, etc.; not Starbucks; never shopping malls); lack of familiarity with cheap,disposable pop-culture ('Britney who?'); and of course, a command of the "I-don't-know-what": loafers without socks; cigarette smoked like '40's film star; collars on polo shirts turned upwards; selects unadvertised fragrances; almost entirely void of visible logos (exceptions:family crest or personal monogram; crocodile, polo player, and "G")employs the 'kiss on either cheek' greeting. The word Eurotrash should only be used on the west side of 'the pond' and in relation to the bland, Puritan, mass-marketed,shrink-wrapped, petit-bourgeois style rampant in America. *taken from urbandictionary.com