In New York Magazine's Home Design Issue, amid a lot of exuberant declarations only comprehendible to the super-rich ("trapezoids are the next rectangles," "computers are the next faucets,") was the simple news that "gray is the next chocolate brown," beneath a photo of a lacy gray napkin. For those of us who use paper-towels, Sarah Jessica Parker made the same announcement on Oprah last week, where she unveiled her nice-but-dull and super-cheap clothing line, Bitten. So, um, trade in all your chocolate brown stuff or something.

We happened by the 18th Street Barney's Co-op around noon today to see that the "madhouse" had lasted less than an hour. As Racked reported, women were lined up at 9:30 this morning, and the store opened at 11. At noon, the tiny collection of boringness was practically gone. One frazzled boyfriend was thanking a saleswoman for removing a dress from the mannequin so he could bring it home to his lady. The scary fashion biotches present were perusing $300 jeans and Marc Jacobs blouses, like normal. So, are we done now?

(She herself, in an image from here)

If it can be argued that there are, sartorially speaking, only two types of women in the world, those who wish to blend in and those who dress to astonish, Isabella Blow, who died yesterday at 48, was triumphantly in the latter category. Blow had worked as a stylist and an editor, but her true talent was as muse, impresario, wild enthusiast and advocate for avant guard fashion designers. She bought Alexander McQueen's entire first collection when he was fresh out school of and was an early proponent of John Galliano, a designer so adventurous he once made a ball gown with a train of tin cans and other detritus for his notorious clochard (French for vagrant) collection.

In a time of increasing conformity, the presence of a rare magpie like Blow—who did look positively bird-like in the couture Philip Treacey hats she favored—is a considerable gift. It is a sad irony that she passed away on the same day as the Metropolitan Museum of Art Costume Institute's so-called "party of the year"—this season honoring the work of designer Paul Poiret.

Poiret, who did his best work before World War I, would have adored Blow. He thought nothing of wrapping women in velvet kimonos or lush brocade hobble skirts or mountainous ermine-trimmed evening cloaks. Like Blow, he certainly wasn't a less-is-more guy.

How many of the celebrities at last night's gala, parading up the museum's steps in gowns chosen for them by their stylists, have any real appreciation for someone like Blow; a woman who dressed for herself, the crazier her ensembles the better?

Let us remember her by dressing as fearlessly as we dare, ignoring the slings and arrows of lesser mortals, who, content in their tees and jeans, will never know the pleasures of becoming your own work of art.

(from houseofgood.com)

emg is back with its monthly vintage sale at Tribeca Grand Hotel. Some picks for May: a Marc Jacobs gold bustier/camisole for $55, a Betsey Johnson black/floral/striped baby doll dress for $50, and a pair of Manolo Blahnik lime and fuschia spectator pumps for $105 -- plus much more.

emg Vintage

Saturday, May 19, 2-6 pm

Tribeca Grand Hotel

2 Avenue of the Americas

Yes, she's probably still a size zero, but we have to say, we were pleased and surprised to notice the slight tummy on this H&M model. Not that it made us feel like trying on bikinis, but still.

H&M

558 Brodway

(212) 343-2722