From Bob Gruen’s legendary photo shoot with John Lennon, August 29, 1974.
Gruen remembers the day: I had given him that New York City shirt about a year earlier. And I
used to wear them all the time. I was very proud of being from New York.
And we were up on a rooftop taking pictures of his apartment. He had a
penthouse apartment at the time. And we were taking pictures for his
album cover (Walls & Bridges). And then he suggested we
take some more pictures so we have a lot of publicity photos available.
And I remembered I had given him that shirt. And I said, ‘Do you still
have it? Because here’s the whole skyline of New York all around us.’
And he knew right where it was, went and got it and put it on. And he
just was comfortable being a New Yorker. And I suggested it because I
knew he was really happy in New York and he really kind of described New
York as the center of the world and said ‘If I was living in the time
of Rome, I would go to Rome. But I’m living in the time now, so I’ll be
in New York.’ http://www.feelnumb.com/2009/08/02/john-lennon-new-york-city-shirt/
I also got to thinking about my favorite Etsy shops that have some of the best Broadway items out there!! When you make a purchase, you are supporting local artists and coming away with some very cute Broadway inspired gifts!
Greenroom prints has always been one of my favorite shops! You can buy them digital and then print them out. They are so pretty, and she has so many musicals to choose from. I particularly love this one from The Last Five Years:
Authors note: Hi guys! This is a CEO - AU in which I have had the pleasure to have @tinypeachee help write. Enjoy!
I erratically throw my work shirt to the floor of the cab, pulling at my jeans as I wiggle my way out of them,
“ma'am, are you kay back there?” The driver examines,
“fine, don’t look back.” my best friend instructs as she hands me a jet-black dress that’s meant to rise just above the knee. I pull the dress over my head, wiggling around to adjust the dress to my body. Getting changed and re-dressed in the back of a cab isn’t periodically my thing, but when I have a boss that loses track of time and a boyfriend who is meticulously precise with times and despises being tardy, I am left with no choice.
“Pantyhose.” I instruct, my bestfriend rummages through bags in an attempt to find the pantyhose. She throws them at me and I hurry to slide them up my legs, not being prudent in anyway.
“Damnit.” I say in a bad-tempered manner, ripping the pantyhose. I throw them off, grabbing my bag and fumbling to find my makeup. “He’s going to kill me.” I grumble, hurriedly reapplying my makeup in hope to look decent. Harry’s substantially the authoritarian, everyone must be unswervingly committed, everyone must be above reproach; dilatoriness is not an option, punctuality is a must, and he’s absolutely never content when his own girlfriend doesn’t abide by the rules.
“Lipstick, don’t forget the lipstick.” my friend urges, throwing a clutch bag into my lap as she continues to rummage around the back seat.
“Dark red or bright red?” I question, holding up two lipsticks,
“Dark.” my friend responds, “heels, put the Bloody heels on.” She mutters, forcing my black pumps at my feet. With my spare hand I adjust the heels and slide them on my feet, taking part in multitasking as I apply lipstick.
“Hair.” I babble, my friend instantaneously pulling it from its high pony tail and ruffling her hands through it.
“We’re here.” The driver clears his throat, his eyes not leaving the road– as instructed previously.
“Go-go-go, you look hot.” my friend empirically pushes me out of the car, my feet stumbling as I try to hustle. I take a breath and close the door before turning on my heel, my hands grasping my clutch bag nervously. my eyes view Harry dressed in an all black suit with no tie, standing handsomely outside his headquarters.
“You’re late.” He gripes, his eyes sullen and displeased, “thirty minutes late.” He adds, looking me up and down before cracking a small smile. “I’m sorry, I-” I begin. He shakes his head, cutting me off with his own words,
“hush, come on.” He instructs, offering his hand out to me. I place my hand on top of his, following his lead into the lavish building.
My heels hit black marble tiles and my eyes meet the inside design of the beauteous lobby, ‘Styles Head Quarters’ mantled in black on the white marbled wall.
“I’m sorry.” I breathe, We both composedly walking towards the elevators.
“I hope you have a good excuse. There is no room for fault.” He comments, pressing the up button.
“Work.” I respond calmly, looking up at him waiting for a response, but all he does is nod, his eyes concentrated upon the elevator, his facial expression staying neutral. “Don’t forget to always make eye contact, don’t stutter, and don’t look weak. They’ll try talk down to I, don’t take it.” Harry gives precise instructions, his usual routine of commands commencing, now. Every time there’s an event of any sort he gives me the run down, what not to do, and in most instances they’re the exact lectures.
I must always be on my game, there’s no room for stuttering, stumbling, uneducated statements, or ill advised conversations.
“I know,” I nod,
“never back away from a conversation, don’t discuss politics, don’t take the hard liquor, only drink the champagne offered.” I repeat by memory, mimicking his thick voice, watching as he smiles with satisfaction. “Don’t mimic me once we are there.” He prompts, trying to stay stern with a devious grin on his face.
“Don’t mimic me once we are there.” I sneer, stepping into the elevator. Harry steps in behind me, pressing the top floor before resting his eyes on me while the doors close. “I know what You’re doing.” He observes.
“I know what You’re doing.” I respond deviously, enjoying the fact that he’s stiff and struggling not to grin at my playfulness. He pushes me against the wall adamantly, but modestly. His eyes stare down at me, his lips pursed before he bites down on them.
“You look absolutely breathtaking, it’s a shame I can’t ruin your lipstick right about now.” He whispers in a profound way, his breath touching my skin as he brushes his lips against my soft cheek.
“Now, we can’t have the CEO’s girlfriend with imperfect lipstick, can we?” I pose, my eyes meeting his swarthy, stern eyes that are staring into mine.
“Don’t look at me like that.” He firmly forewarns, his eyes narrowing down on Me. I tilt my head slightly, licking my lips imperceptibly prior to giving him a response, “like what?” I delicately challenge with innocence. His hand brushes a few strands of hair behind my ear before resting comfortably in the crook of my neck,
“that devious damn grin.” He murmurs, forcing himself to resist the temptation of tasting my lips on his.
“I know, we could just go home, you can ruin the lipstick there.” I wink with quite a smirk, he rolls his eyes giving me a sigh.
“Tempting, but business awaits.” He answers back, stepping to my side and adjusting his suit jacket, tugging at it and rolling his shoulders. “If You’re nervous you have thirty seconds to redeem yourself.” Harry remarks as he appears up at the level the elevator is on. “Baby, I’m not nervous.” I delicately respond, he nods and his hand intertwines with mine and I take a deep breath, my eyes watching the numbers light up.
Harry clears his throat just as the doors open and the rein of chatter and the soft-sounding piano playing rings in my ears. We both step out of the elevator, my eyes scanning the luxurious floor full of a considerable number of impeccable businessmen and women accompanied by the Christmas decorations hanging faultlessly along rails, and dangling from the ceiling. Of course every decoration is flawlessly settled and absolutely nothing is out of line.
Before anyone can give the two of us their full attention, Harry whisks me to the bar
“Champagne only, never-” Harry begins one of his several announcement of rules and I gently cut him off, “never take a drink from another man unless it’s the bartender, I know.” I give him a small smile, taking note of how tense he is. He’s a man with great strength, but has a weakness in which is intensity, he struggles with keeping relaxed shoulders and a rested state of mind.
“I need you to mingle, there’s absolutely no room for fault, stay away from political discussions, and questions about my closing deals- you know nothing about them, okay?” He gives precise and firm instructions, just as the bartender places a glass of Bourbon in front of him.
“I’ve got it,” I reassure him, gently placing my hand to his arm,
“Good. Make eye contact, never hesitate, if you need me you know the drill.” He again briefs, taking the bourbon into his hands.
“Yes, go.” I graciously press, dismissing his lecture before he steps away.
I observe as he walks away and is pulled into a firm handshake with one of his competitors, staying firm and formalistic. I turn back to the bartender,
“Johnnie Walker-Black, Rocks,” I prompt the waiter and he gazes at Me with a baffled facial expression,
"Are you sure? We have fine champagne.” He advances, clearly referencing the conversation he overheard between me and Harry. “Johnnie Walker - Black Rocks,” I narrow my eyes on him, tilting my head lightly as I stand unamused by his proposition. Surely, I didn’t stutter or ask for something that he can’t be done. The bar tender blinks for a moment,
“Johnnie Walker, Black Label on ice.” I narrow down my order, annoyed by his lack of competence.
“Yes, sorry. Right away.” He nods with a small gulp hurrying to pour the drink I ordered. After a moment the drink is placed in front of me, “Thank you, put it on the handsome man’s tab.” I smile, hoping the bar tender catches my drift that I am referencing Harry. The bar tender nervously nods before I press the glass to my lips allowing the liquor to run right down my throat in an instant. I place the empty crystal glass on the bar top, promptly turning around and scanning the room for whom will be the next victim of my conversation.
I walk through the crowded floor, filled with men and women dressed in nothing but the finest couture. The drink I snuck in previously, helps immensely, although it has only been a short period of time, I feel more capable of succeeding in tonight’s happenings. As I walk around the room I feel out of place, but instantly remember my mission when I look across the room towards Harry. He leans against the black and gold wall, sipping a drink mostly consisting of ice. His stare is hard, and tenses my posture as he lightly nods his head - you are doing well so far. He can sense my nerves as I stare at him, with a subtle wink he whispers, “go on” before taking a sip of his liquor.
A caterer walks around me with a silver tray, topped with bubbling champagne. He stops before me, “A drink, miss?” I open my mouth, unsure of these standards, but all is made clear when Harry nods at me again. I pick up the tall glass in my left hand, raising it to the caterer before taking a sip. Now is my time, I look around the room, pinpointing a group or individual who look most vulnerable. “It is easier to start with the weak ones,” Harry always says, “although, You should never be perceived as a weak one. Carry yourself highly.” His words managing to echo in my head, reminding me of the expectations.
I spot a group of three men and decide they are my target. I’m a lion on the prowl, and I am scratching my way to the top of the Styles Tower.
my strides are long and confident as I walk over to the men. They instantly stop speaking as I approach. I smile at them, raising my drink to them as a small gesture.
“Hello gentlemen,” I smile, “A lovely set up Mr. Styles has here, don’t I agree?”
They instantly straighten their stance at my use of words. Harry always reminded me to keep my words soft, but never fail to sound immensely over educated.
“A woman can never be too educated,” Harry always convinces me, “make other’s nervous to speak around you, always sound scholarly.” His words wise and sharp as they’re reminding me of my duties.
“Of course,” One of the men answer. “Did Mr. Styles incorporate I into the scenery on purpose? You are the most beautiful thing I have ever seen.” The man grins.
I laugh, but only out of politeness. Men have spoken to me in this manner before, as all women have been spoken to at some point in their life. Harry, however, would never speak to me like that - only out of a joke, to which my laugh would be genuine and flattered.
“A special invite, indeed.” I remark, “But as a decoration? Definitely not.” I softly speak with firmness still to my words.
“I would have your image hung around my mansion, that decoration would be of the finest art.” He says, taking a sip of his alcohol. I can smell the alcohol coming off his breath as he nears me while speaking. “So, what do you say? Let me turn you into art with oil paints, a gold frame. I want to hang you over my fireplace.” He smiles in an attempt to lour me into his words,
“Oh, sir, as much as I am flattered I must decline such a gracious offer. I have no intentions of becoming such a thing.” I sweetly decline, taking a sip of my champagne.
I am going to need another glass just to get past his firm requests. His mention of himself living in a mansion, rather than a house, gives off a vibe of him trying to impress me harder than ever. Little does he know, I am not interested in his ‘mansion.’ I am, however; more interested in the mansion in which I reside. The one that has photos of Harry and myself over the fireplace. That is my ideal, and that is all I long for.
“Don’t decline, honey,” He says, pushing the hair off my shoulder and onto my back before caressing my cheek lightly and quickly. “Let me buy you a drink first.” He proposes, not accepting my kind declines.
“I’m going to have to decline that offer as well,” I shake my head, remembering Harry’s guidelines, and my own standards. “I’m capable of purchasing my own drink, but thank You again.” I force a smile, remembering how it’s never polite for me not to smile. Harry has before mentioned that my smile can lighten the darkest of conversations.
I feel Harry’s presence watching over me as my attempt at mingling turns sour. No amount of people can possibly shake his stare from me. The man before me, who remains nameless, insists on me walking with him over to the bar. I remember how I handle and carry myself as a woman, and quickly turn harsher with his persistence.
“I actually have to use the restroom,” I excuse, “But, I will keep my offer in mind.” I respond, keeping eye contact and assertiveness.
He pouts at me, looking down at my free hand before grabbing me by the wrist. “Come on, just a glass of whiskey for the beautiful lady.” He insists. Physical contact, there it is. His clammy hand wrapping itself around my small wrist, somewhat harshly. I keep myself together, remaining calm with the idea of Harry being in the same room as me, if anything is to go wrong — well, it wouldn’t with Harry’s presence.
“I really shouldn’t, I really must be going —“
Before I finish my sentence a body pushes his way between myself and the man, breaking our contact. I mentally praise myself, and praise the tall body dressed in a designer suit who has made his presence fiercely known.
“Good evening, Jack.” Harry’s back arches as he leans closer to Jack, his voice becoming less audible. “I believe the lady has expressed that she will be on her way. It seems to me that you will also be on my way out of my company, if you continue to mistreat and disregard the personal preference of anyone who sets foot in my tower.” Harry threats, his voice staying relatively low, yet firm and dominant. Jack gulps and directs his eyes to the floor, nervously stepping around Harry and walking away without a word. Harry looks towards the two other men who have bared witness to my terrible conversation with Jack, “now, you two.” Harry narrows his eyes down on the men, grasping their attention instantly. “I’d suggest you get your ladies and leave, you have left quite the bitter taste in my mouth.” He begins, “I will not have men who allow the harassment of a woman to take place, I do not condone that in my building, or in any building.” Harry firmly continues, his eyes dark and tense as he holds the full attention of the two men. “You’re easily replaced. I’ll have a decision for your jobs Monday morning, go.” Harry dismisses the men, both men quickly offering their apologies to us both before promptly collecting their invited partners.
Harry looks down at me and I do my best to avoid eye contact, “what have I told I about eye contact?” He questions,
“Harry, please.” I softly let out, shaking my head as I take a breath, not wanting to hear a lecture. Harry nods, remembering he needs to sometimes draw a line between business etiquette and boyfriend etiquette, right now he needs to talk to me like a boyfriend, not a businessman. “Do you need some air?” He offers kindly, and I shake my head,
“I’m fine. Who am I pouncing on next?” I softly ask. Harry shakes his head,
“You’re with me.” Harry insists, irritated as I give him a disapproving look. I am fine, I am fierce, I am capable of continuing to engage in the business work of communication. Jacks alcohol infused antics are no reason to pull the reins and bring me to a halt. Harry leans closer, whispering in my ear, “it’s stay with me, or stay in the penthouse until I’m done, sweetheart.” He firmly, yet kindly whispers, once again becoming dominant before placing a soft kiss to my cheek.
I gently sigh before giving him a nod, confirming I’ll stay by his side like he wishes. I take a breath as Harry courteously escorts me towards two men, each dressed in couturier suits, with a crystal glass in their hands to polish off their sophisticated, business semblance. “Men, it’s good to see familiar faces around here.” Harry superficially smiles, his eyes staying firmly on the men as he shakes each of their hands firmly.
“Always a pleasure to be invited.” One nods with a shallow smile, his expression making me believe he’s thoroughly intimidating. He looks at me and his eyes soften but he doesn’t say a word to me. “Harry, I’ve had the time to look upon your offer.” The man begins, already moving into a business conversation. “If I do take your offer, I need at least one weekend.” He commences to negotiate. Harry nods yes, his face staying stern as his arm graciously sneaks around me, “of course, I know how important family time can be, isn’t that right?” Harry gander down at me, requesting for me to back him up and make him convincingly understanding and modest. “Yes, he always tries to make time for family.” I courteously wear a smile, backing Harry up, even though he hasn’t had a weekend off in two months.
“Businessman and family man, I like that.” The man raises his glass before taking a drink, seeming content with his negotiation, little does he know this is probably what Harry intended. “We can continue to negotiate the contract Monday, say- Eleven?” Harry advances, getting ready to dismiss the business talk and move on to something else. “Eleven works,” the man agrees,
“Right, nice to see you here. I’ll see you Monday, please feel free to have a drink on me.” Harry amiably motions towards the bar before shaking both men’s hands, beckoning them off towards the liquor counter.
Harry turns to me with a smile, “shall we leave?” He proposes, his eyes flicking towards the elevators. Without questions I coincide, walking beside him and striding towards the elevators. “It’s only ten.” I bring to his attention, indistinguishably reminding him he’s leaving a Christmas party relatively early.
“I’ve done what I needed to do.” He responds, his smirk grinning as we await the arrival of the elevator, “no questions.” Harry promptly adds callously, with absolutely no intentions to explain his current deal he’s supposedly done.
We step into the elevator composedly, Harry pressing the bottom level before the doors close. “You did well tonight.” Harry breaks the silence, looking over at me as I adjust the length of my dress,
“I did not.” I shake my head, rather frustrated with my sour conversation due to a talking indiscreetly and thoughtlessly, overly-touchy, somewhat drunk that Harry has possibly had, working for him. Instead of showering me down with praise and changing his tone to boyfriend mode, Harry moves to stand in front of me, leaning down straightway and kissing my lips wit due care, “now I can ruin your lipstick.” He murmurs against my lips, delicately kissing me further as my back is effeminately pressed against the elevator wall, his hand pressed to the wall by my head as I move my hands to rest on his shoulders.
He carefully pulls away from our small kiss, using his thumb to wipe away part of my lipstick that’s been smeared. He positions himself to stand beside me, again adjusting his suit jacket just as the doors open. He always has impeccable timing with things. We step out of the elevator and he intertwines or fingers, gently guiding me towards the broad glass doors of the lobby. “Have a goodnight Mr.Styles.” The woman still working at the lobby desk elegantly hails. “Have a good night.” Harry nods, pulling on the golden handle, opening the door, allowing me out as he holds the door. I step down the grey stairs, my heels clinking against them as Harry hurried behind me. I stop as I reach the bottom, my eyes setting on his grey Audi. “I swear you gawk over the car more than me.” Harry stifles a laugh, pressing the button to unlock the car from his keys. I chuckle to myself, overly captivated by his damn car as usual. “Can I drive it yet?” I open my hand for the keys, hoping he gives in.
“Not a chance tonight, I know something else you can drive.” He boldly winks, winning him an eye roll due to his cheeky comment and cunning smirk. “C'mon, in we get, maybe another time you can drive.” Harry expresses with gestures towards the car as he opens the door for me. With a heavy sigh I sit in the car, mentally thinking of a way to get him to let me drive his car. His car is like his baby, nobody gets in it, and certainly nobody drives it but him. Harry slides his suit jacket down his long arms and I take it from him as he gets in the car. “Thank you for attending tonight.” Harry affably shows appreciation, turning the key in the ignition, igniting the roar of the sports car. “Thank you for inviting me.” I respond as I begin to get comfortable in the leather seats, feeling the warmth of the heated seats.
“I’ll wake you when we are home, it’s an hour drive.” Harry clears his throat, placing a tender kiss to my cheek prior to pulling the car out of the parking spot, and focusing his attention on the road.
Tech running gear is amazing, I mean it lasts forever. I still have the shorts and shirts I used when I trained for my first big race in 2006! Any cotton Ts or shorts from back then are well faded and fraying.
The plus to this is that even shopping infrequently and frugally, I’ve now got a good collection of running clothes. There’s no brand loyalty and it’s a hodge podge of a collection, but it works.
My only limitation is that - because of space - my running gear must be confineed to only one dresser drawer.
Except socks, because socks are multi purpose so they belong in my sock drawer…
And running tights/pants because they’re really cold weather gear and sometimes double as pj bottoms…
And those two pairs of running shorts I also often wear to the pool are kept in my summer/miscellaneous drawer…
And my beanie and gloves and belts/pouches because their not “clothes” they’re “accessories” so I keep them in the hall cupboard.
And did I mention, they’re smallish drawers so it’s no wonder with only one small *not small* drawer, I’m always on the lookout for new running gear!
Hey, if it's not a bother can you tell me where you bought your HP stuff?
The Hufflepuff quidditch jumper and Harry’s weasley sweater are from Warner Bros studios gift shop, but i saw them all around in official HP gift shops in London! I have other stuff like shirts and socks too but they’re mostly from random shops, i think my marauders map leggings are from primark but like two of the socks are from a grocery store even lol