You love Joanie. You got to know Tyra. Now, it’s time you meet the newest member of Bostonista’s feline family, Margie.

We first fell in love with the 8-month-old tabby (with orange highlights) on a Saturday afternoon visit to the Animal Rescue League’s South End shelter. Though all of the cats were cute, when the Chelsea stray reached her paw through the metal cage and picked us out, it was love at first sight. She was the one.

Margie’s been home with us for a week now. And though we suspected it since the moment we laid eyes on her sassy short-haired coat, Margie is proving to have terrific taste.

A few of her favorite things: (more…)

Last week, Bostonista was invited to attend the opening party for Logan’s new Virgin Atlantic Clubhouse. Always up for an airport trip—pick ups, drop offs, whatever, it’s all wonderfully Love Actually to us—we hopped in the car and headed to East Boston.

By now, most avid travelers are familiar with the Virgin brand, epitomized by its swashbuckling mogul Richard Branson, clubby mentality, and cool gimmicks (in-flight IM, anyone?). The airline’s Heathrow flagship lounge is near-legendary for its modern design, Bumble and Bumble salon, jacuzzi, and limitless champagne. Needless to say, we were eager to check out the Boston branch.

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The lobby of the Somerville Theater was a blue/gray sea of denim, chambray, and fleece. “Yikes!” I said to my husband. “These are my peers?” We were there to see Joe Jackson, Brit rocker of olde, and as I wondered if that nasty AARP card issued automatically at my big 5-0 could have maybe gotten us a discount, I also registered more than a little remorse that this is how my generation was choosing to express itself sartorially. I should have worn my wig!

The mostly male and solidly middle-aged crowd was as entertaining as the band, fervently swinging to the beat while singing along full throttle. I felt like a fly in a car ride of teens on a beer run. Except this time, the elation I was witnessing related to temporary liberation from pressures due to recession, marriage, and parenting. (more…)

This week we had the chance to catch up with several 50-something rock stars live on the stage here in Boston, which isn’t hard considering that Led Zeppelin, the Police, and the Rolling Stones won’t quit in spite of their venerable ages. No point in reviewing the music here because, well, we’re not qualified to judge.

But we figure that after two shows we are now fully qualified to comment on the aging rock star aesthetic. So what does a 50-something former punk wear? How does he deal with turkey neck, balding, and the burgeoning mid-section? And does he still rock?

Warning: the following may give the current tattooed and pierced generation pause, because, friends, you too will get old.

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Blogging, we learned this week, is not the best occupation for people who would rather not die.

Here at Bostonista, we were worried about our lifestyle well before the Times article materialized, though our concerns focused less on imminent heart failure and more on our daily tendency to eat the chocolate-covered items that constantly bombard our office.

Either way, it’s a good thing we tried Healthworks’ Bootcamp.

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It wasn’t long after Sascha’s bum attempt at backside glory that I found my own pair of Booty Pop miracle grow panties waiting at my desk. Regardless of whether I need the extra padding (and after a winter full of candy binges, I’d venture no), Bostonista strives to be, if nothing else, objective when it comes to testing the latest trends. With that in mind, I set out to try BP for myself, hoping that the lack of shape and support Sascha experienced when wearing the underwear with a dress would disappear when paired with my favorite trouser jeans.

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I spent the weekend packing up my apartment, kicking up dust and pet hair that’s lived between books and behind furniture for three years, and assembling cardboard boxes, all of which has left me with a wheezy cough, papery palms, and a cat that I swear to god said “me-ove.”

Packing is not fun. Every few boxes or so, I’d stop to check email, watch an episode of Sex and the City, and test out some beauty product I’d uncovered in the rubble.

My favorite find is a spray cream by Italian skincare brand Terme di Fontecchio, a light moisturizer that goes on in a mist. Sort of like how you can never really eat orange tic-tacs one at a time, I started spritzing it a la OCD, every half hour, then every time I filled a box, then every time Joanie scratched the couch. (more…)

We’ve been known to succumb to Kit-Kats and bald Britney while awaiting checkout at Target or Stop & Shop. But with Amazon’s recent launch of TextBuyIt—a service that allows customers to find and buy Amazon.com products from any mobile device via text message—our impulse buying is no longer safely confined to the bad chocolate and ratty tabs found in superstore checkout lanes.

Tech-savvy shoppers can now make purchases from Amazon.com anytime, anywhere, with a few quick taps. All you have to do is send a text to “AMAZON” (262966) with the desired product’s name or code and, the company claims, within seconds you’ll get a response with the matching product or products, along with the prices. To buy an item, you simply reply and the whole she-bang is locked down following a short call from Amazon confirming the purchase. (more…)

Yesterday, I cheated — on my wedding gown.

Here’s what happened: The editors at Boston Weddings asked me play model for an article in the Fall 2008 issue, which will showcase and compare the work of four local wedding photographers. Each shooter had the same bride (me), and the same venue (The Algonquin Club).

I am getting married on May 31, so I already have my own dress, an ivory, strapless Carolina Herrera. For these purposes, however, the editors suggested I pick out another from designer Liv Harris’s line at Vows.

I selected a gorgeous A-line, head-to-toe lace number that comes in strapless and v-neck versions. The strapless was simply stunning, and the champagne color made my skin glow, despite the fact that I’m still a pasty winter white. When I picked out my own dress, I thought I had found “the one,” but now I think I’ve found “the two!” (more…)

One of the major highlights of our grade school existence was a fundraising program that let parents purchase gift certificates to major retailers with the understanding that a small percentage of the sale would be kicked back to the school.

As a result, our anti-television, anti-preteen-nonsense mother suddenly started handing us certificates to Blockbuster and The Limited Too. And we weren’t the only lucky ones: All over the building, our slack-jawed classmates began clutching pre-gift-card-era paper money like dozens of little Charlie Buckets with golden tickets.

Clearly, this fundraising thing had made our parents crazy. And we had no idea what we did to deserve such a miracle.

Fast-forward 15 years, and the founders of Boston Community Change hope the same insanity will be a boon to area stores.

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