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Have you been Joey'd today?


Smart Set Just Joey
There's a new verb in town: Joey'ed. As in, I'm a little tingly today, I've been Joey'ed. Or, Your face looks fresh. Have you been Joey'ed? Joey'ed is something that only Just Joey, a bicoastal waxing guru who sets up shop once a month at the Shoreham hotel, can do to you. (The name? "My clients would say, 'My guy is the best bikini wax you'll ever get,' and her friends would go, 'Your guy?,' and she'd go, 'Oh, It's just Joey. You'll understand.' " His specialties are eyebrows -- classic, arched, and Audrey Hepburn-shaped with richly dyed lashes to match -- and bikini lines (brows start at $60, lashes at $35, and "The Playboy" bikini wax is $75), but he'll remove anything else. "Ask yourself," he advises, "is a blonde moustache really any better? Just take it off. With everything off, you wake up in the morning, you still look great! Who wouldn't want that?" It's much easier figuring out who would: Just Joey's Manhattan weeks are booked solid with the city's top beauty and fashion editors, who line up at the Shoreham in identical states of grow-in. "Hair?" Just Joey pronounces the word like it tastes bad. "Hair was originally a form of warmth and protection. But let's face it. The cave days are o-ver!"

I'm Okay, I'm Okay . . .
The holiday season can mean lots of things, including a severe case of the blues. Perhaps that's why the latest crop of holiday jewelry carries little pick-me-up messages visible only to the wearer, not to the nosy relatives who want you to eat more stuffing and explain why you're not married to a rich dentist yet. Me & Ro, designers of sweet and delicate baubles beloved by Hollywood starlets, have come up with a pendant to benefit Doctors of the World; its underside reads amour, compassion, foi, espoir ($145 at Me & Ro, 239 Elizabeth Street). A tiny inscription on the back of the Instinct, a sleek new digital watch by Psycht ($145 at Barneys), reads as i think, i am; as i love, i attract. i will be strong, i will be free, and i will achieve my dreams. Every hour, this message scrolls across the screen. Hey, if it helps you keep from disgracing yourself with the eggnog at the office Christmas party . . .

Following Suit
When you finally check in to the ever-about-to-open 60 Thompson hotel, now slated for a December debut, don't be surprised if the bellhop's outfit is nicer than yours. Owner Jason Pomeranc had eighties godfather Nino Cerruti custom-design the staff's uniforms -- though some may associate him more with American Psycho power shoulders than with SoHo chic. (Cerruti, you'll recall, dressed Christian Bale and friends for the Bret Easton Ellis spectacular.) "All these suits are unconstructed," says Julian Cerruti, in town with his father Nino for the nuptials of longtime client Michael Douglas. "The shirts don't have any cuff links. It's our modern suiting statement." Which means single-breasted jackets with narrow peaked lapels and knee-length slit skirts in camel and navy. Navy? In SoHo? "The tyranny of black in downtown establishments," says Pomeranc, "should come to an end."

But Oeuf Course
While big-league brands like Nike and the Gap continue to emblazon everything from billboards to waistbands with their names, a new, more mysterious emblem is surfacing in the city. Already a smash hit in the U.K. and Japan, British cult label Oeuf (French for egg) has arrived at Union (172 Spring Street; 212-226-8493), bringing with it designer Andrew Hartwell's cheeky wordplay (hel on oeuf, fuck oeuf) printed on sweats ($86) and tees ($42). "It started as an experiment to see if people would buy a brand whose name was weird and totally irrelevant," says Hartwell. "But now that it's selling, I guess Oeuf does mean something."


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