After a very successful winter sample sale season, your own LSL (aka Pres. Obama's stimulus plan) has imposed upon herself another spending moratorium. Just as well, because there is officially no more room in my claustrophobic pied a terre. Which is why I dream of space- not the final frontier of Trekkies, but the earthbound kind of which all NY'ers fantasize. My sister once stated, quite correctly, that I did not need a house, just a bedroom and a REALLY BIG CLOSET. Eight years into my love/hate relationship with New York, I'm still waiting for my Shangri La, a walk-in closet of the Vogue kind. Until then, I settled for my two (not at all) walk-in closets. Next came the flea market cabinets cum makeshift "shoe closets". Then the elevator shoes for the bed to squeeze under giant plastic storage boxes. Let's not forget the space under the futon, on top of the TV cabinet, under the bedroom wardrobe, and on the oven racks. Note: the latter spot had to be abandoned after an unfortunate albeit small oven fire (yes, mom, I'm alright). The final sacrifice was the extra half bath, now a walk-in closet of sorts thanks to a portable clothes rack from Bed, Bath & Beyond. Does this spell the end of my adventures in fashion and this blog of run-on sentences commenmorating the same? Of course not- a couple months of spring cleaning and a dropoff to Housing Works, and LSL will be back in commission.
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