Glamazon: There's no guy in team

Ignoring a tarot-card reader's advice, our columnist keeps her closet packed.

By Joanie Cox

July 1, 2008

 
Glamazon: There's no guy in team
Rising fuel costs have forced me to dip into the meager amount of splurge money I had left. My daily $4 Caramel Macchiato has turned into a weekly treat, and I haven't been able to afford a manicure and pedicure in four months. It's either one or the other. However, the Willow Stream Spa at The Fairmont Turnberry Isle Resort and Club in Aventura has devised a way to combine cocktails, appetizers, chick flicks and mini-spa treatments for the all-inclusive price of $45. It's called B.F.F. spa night, an abbreviation for Back Rubs, Facials and Foot Scrubs. During the promotion's opening night June 25, guests were treated to free cosmopolitans and Sex and the City episodes playing on a plasma TV on the third floor of the spa. More than 20 women showed up, and we talked about the three M's — massages, martinis and men — and how it's hard to find a great version of each.

Next to the bar, a woman named Pilar offered tarot-card readings. She had me shuffle the deck and then select three cards.

A card that read, "Clear your space" turned up twice.

"You're going to have to clean out your closet," Pilar told me. "Empty at least half of it. There's no room in your life for love because you haven't allowed a space for a man in your closet."

I wasn't enthusiastic about this advice, but Pilar had a point. If a man tried to move in with me, he'd barely have space for a T-shirt and boxer shorts. "Isn't there anything else I could do?" I asked. "Like feng shui my bedroom or get a geranium?"

"You can certainly do those things," she responded, "but you still need to clean your closet to let love in."

After this star-crossed revelation, I needed another drink and more relaxation. So I headed downstairs to try out some of the mini-treatment stations. I got an invigorating food scrub, a moisturizing hand treatment, an exfoliating facial and a chair massage. The services lasted about 15 minutes each and satisfied my craving for a full spa experience for less than the cost of a single treatment.

B.F.F. night will take place from 7 to 9 p.m. the last Wednesday of every month, excluding holidays. The price includes a gift bag stuffed with skin creams and facial toner from the spa. The next event will have a slumber party theme, so round up your own BFFs, pull on your sweatpants and indulge in some uber-girlie decadence.

The Fairmont Turnberry Isle Resort and Club is located at 19999 W. Country Club Drive in Aventura. Call 305-933-6930 or visit Fairmont.com/turnberryisle.

HANGIN' TOFF

A major part of what I love about local fashion is getting to know designers and what inspires their work. I recently met Miami designer Claudia Estrada (pictured) at a party in Miami. Estrada owns the online boutique Toffmiami.com and designs Claudia E, a flirty, feminine line of women's clothes.

"I hate when a woman's handbag and shoes match," she said in her sexy Spanish accent. The lean, leggy, Ecuadorean-born designer reminds me of a cross between Penelope Cruz and Blondie's Deborah Harry. She creates silky, feminine dresses, but has a toughness about her — like a samurai wrapped in silk. Her beliefs contradict everything I've learned about the concept of fashion, but as Coco Chanel once said, "Fashion is made to become unfashionable."

As Estrada talked about her spring 2008 collection of boldly patterned stresses and silky palazzo pants, I tried to hide my feet under a nearby table. My silver Steve Madden shoes matched my silver Jessica Simpson bag, and I wanted to keep playing it off as if I knew what she was talking about.

"My designs are more like a candy store mixing pinks and blues," Estrada explained. "I love mustard, fuchsia and terra cotta."

And then, she told me something I never expected to hear come out of a designer's mouth: She doesn't believe in trends. This is akin to a firefighter not believing in hoses or a priest not believing in God. But this is what makes Estrada's silhouettes so intriguing.

"There's no rules," she said. "You see something hanging there and it's about how you feel at that second."

Any idiot can match up colors, but mixing yellow shoes with an orange blouse and looking as if you're not trying too hard — that's something I'll have to work on.

RENT-A-VUITTON

The price of imported designer handbags has shot up like high rises in the Design District. Since I lately have been selling most of my designer handbags on eBay in order to eat, I decided to join Bagborroworsteal.com, which is like Netflix for purses. You pick a bag off the Web site and if it's available, it will be on your doorstep in six to 10 days. This seems like an ideal way to quench champagne taste on a Champale budget. But like all things that seem too good to be true, fantasies of this caliber don't come cheap. For example, it costs $9.95 a month regardless of what bag you rent. In addition to that fee, renting the purses for a week to a few months can cost as much as your apartment. The Louis Vuitton Blue Denim Bowly bag costs $595 for a month or $208 just for the week. A vintage crocodile Kelly bag by Hermes, which is the Maybach of purses, costs a whopping $2,400 a month, or $816 per week.

Since I could only afford to rent a little luxury, I opted to borrow the Burberry Nova Check Top Handle Satchel for a month for $72.45. Participants have the option to purchase the bag at the end of the lease, which in the case of the Burberry would cost $710. No thanks. The bag arrived with a note that read, "Treat this bag like you borrowed it from a good friend." For a second, I tried to pretend the bag was a gift from a secret admirer, but that never happens in real life.

Despite my initial high hopes, as I'm carrying this fancy bag around to parties in South Beach, I don't feel all that fabulous. In fact, I feel like one of those douchebags who rents a Ferrari for a weekend to cruise Ocean Drive and then returns to his ongoing residency at his mother's house. After the month is up, I will return the Burberry bag and go back to my old, beat-up, black-leather Marc Jacobs satchel. Even though its light-pink, suede lining is blemished with pen marks, makeup compact explosions and a half-melted stick of gum, it has two things going for it the shiny Burberry bag does not: It's paid off and it's mine.

Glamazon appears every other week. Contact Joanie Cox at jcox@citylinkmagazine.com.

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