Nicole Richie's designs on a star brand

She hosted the kickoff festivities for L.A.'s Fashion's Night Out in September and sat front row at the Louis Vuitton runway show in Paris this month. Come February, she'll be in our living rooms every week, as a mentor on NBC's new "Fashion Star" designer competition series. Is tabloid sensation-turned-designer Nicole Richie poised to become the next big celebrity fashion brand?

Following in the footsteps of Jessica Simpson and Rachel Zoe, Richie, 30 — whose adoptive father is Lionel Richie — launched her House of Harlow 1960 jewelry line in late 2007, adding shoes in 2009 and bags in June 2011. Last spring, she debuted ready-to-wear under the label Winter Kate.

Her designs are an extension of her paparazzi-ready personal style — witchy woman, rock goddess, '60s and '70s vintage princess. The Winter Kate collection ($78 to $700) features fringed velvet kimonos (inspired by vintage pieces Richie has collected for years), firefly-print maxi dresses, silk camisoles and short-shorts (but not a lot of pants).

House of Harlow 1960 accessories ($195 to $695) include beaded moccasins, velvet booties and pony skin bags, and jewelry with antler, evil eye, arrow and stud motifs.
Her labels have received modest attention in fashion bible Women's Wear Daily and in glossy women's magazines. In 2010, she won Entrepreneur of the Year for her House of Harlow 1960 brand at the British Glamour Women of the Year Awards.

"We won the jackpot when we partnered with her," says Rick Cytrynbaum, who co-owns Montreal-based Majestic Mills along with his brother, Brian. The Canadian manufacturing company produces House of Harlow 1960, Winter Kate and several other labels, including Modern Vintage footwear, Heidi Klum footwear and Earnest Sewn denim. "She's on the ball. She works with her design team every day."

Rick Cytrynbaum declined to give sales figures, saying instead that Richie's clothing and accessories are available in more than 700 stores in 23 countries. But in this country, at least, they have low visibility in stores, compared with the Zoe and Simpson brands.

That may be why Richie herself has been more visible over the last few months, wearing her hippie headbands and flowy tops to events and "selling" her earthy Hollywood mom lifestyle.

Her Los Angeles house — which she shares with husband Joel Madden of the band Good Charlotte, and their two kids, Harlow, 3, and Sparrow, 2 — is canyon cool with natural wood floors, a sunken living room, big brick fireplace, kilim rugs, fur throw pillows, a terrarium and two taxidermy chickens dressed in aristocratic finery.

On this day there is incense burning, Hendrix on the sound system and a family cat, an Abyssinian named Gypsy, snuggling with his mistress. Befitting a rock 'n' roll household, the bar cart is well stocked, but there's also a miniature stove for the kids, near the adult-sized one in the kitchen.

Stevie Nicks would feel at home in Richie's office, which looks out over the treetops. Her antique desk is covered with line sheets and sketches, and there is a red-feathered tribal headdress (a gift from Madden) sitting on a side table. (Richie also has a downtown studio, where her five-person design team works.)

Nicole Richie landed on the public stage in 2003 at age 21, when she starred with Paris Hilton in the reality show "The Simple Life," which chronicled the celebutantes' adventures "roughing it" on an Arkansas farm and other places. Earlier that year, Richie had been arrested for heroin possession and driving with a suspended license.

The show, on TV for five seasons, turned her into a tabloid fixture, known for her boho style, her on-again, off-again friendships with Hilton, Lindsay Lohan and Zoe, and her battles with eating disorders and substance abuse, for which she went to rehab.

In December 2006, she was charged with a DUI after being arrested by the California Highway Patrol for driving the wrong way on the 134 Freeway. Pleading guilty, she was sentenced to four days in jail, but released after just 82 minutes due to overcrowding.

"I was first approached to do a self-help book at 21, and I passed," says Richie, sitting barefoot on her office floor, dressed in a cream blouse from her line and a pair of black Balenciaga pants. "I said I was too young, and who knows what the next few years will be like? And really, who knew? It's a good thing I passed!"

Since then, she has kept a lower profile, having two children with Madden, marrying him in 2010, and publishing two novels, "The Truth About Diamonds" and "Priceless." (One review of "Priceless" concluded: "A clichéd fairy tale, about as original as the TV movie it will inevitably become.")

Going from reality star to chick lit novelist isn't too much of a stretch when you see that there is a fun-loving, Elle Woods quality to Richie, whether she's jetting off to Mexico for a girls-only birthday weekend, or heading downtown on Saturday mornings with friends to buy flowers at the Los Angeles Flower Market. It comes across in her Twitter feed too. Some of her more hilarious musings include:

"Gonna wear beige today so people think I'm responsible."

"Today wasn't the best day of my life, but I did eat a corn dog."

"Aladdin is, like, really hot."
Her interest in fashion started early.

"When I was a little girl and my dad was on tour, the woman who designed his costumes used to create costumes for me out of the excess fabric," she says. "I fell in love with the idea of making what I wanted.

"As I got older, I would go to [International Silks & Woolens] and buy strips of velvet and charms to make into chokers. I brought them to school and sold them for exactly how much I bought [the materials] for. It took me a while to understand the concept of a mark-up."
When it came time for her own label, she started small, partnering with jeweler Pascal Mouawad on her House of Harlow 1960 line of jewelry in 2007, inspired by treasures she found in Thailand, South Africa and elsewhere.
Footwear was next. Nordstrom started carrying House of Harlow shoes in select stores this season and will expand the offerings to more stores this spring. Bruce Moynagh, senior shoe buyer for Nordstrom, says. "She's done her homework. She has really keyed in on the must-have silhouettes." He points to the Nelly kiltie lace-up and the Bailey bootie with button details as hot sellers. (The Winter Kate collection is sold at select Nordstrom stores in addition to online at ShopBop and RevolveClothing.)

Like most celebrities with fashion lines, Richie is more stylist than designer — picking up inspirations from magazine clips, vintage clothes and furnishings, music and travel, and from her rock 'n' roll heroes from the 1960s and '70s, both decades she likes because "there was no such thing as clashing." Her staff attends to the design details.

In the next year or so, Richie is hoping to launch a lower-priced apparel collection under the House of Harlow 1960 name. (It is in the mass apparel category that most celebrities hit gold.) She's also finishing her third novel (Richie wakes up at 5:30 or 6 every morning to write) and setting her sights on recording an album. (She sang on last year's re-recording of "We Are the World" and plays the piano, violin and cello.)

Then there's "Fashion Star." Richie, Jessica Simpson and John Varvatos will be mentoring the designers vying for the attention of retail buyers from H&M, Macy's and Saks, who will decide whether to produce their pieces every week.

The show is likely to create a new level of exposure for the Richie brand. "Clearly, we're going to use it as a platform for people to get to know her better and to see her sense of style in a real way each week in their living rooms," Cytrynbaum says. "That translates to her lines as well, although she won't be wearing her designs exclusively on the show."

But will it all add up to a fashion windfall?

"I think so," says Bruce Ross, president and chief executive of Celebrity Fashion group, who works with celebrities, manufacturers and retailers to build exclusive collections, including reality show star-fashion student Lauren Conrad's successful label.

Because as much as it is about product and promotion, it's also about personality.

"I have great respect for what she's done and what she's become," he says. "Here's someone who has turned her life around, is married, has children and a career. People like a comeback."

Disney's Aulani is a Hawaiian fantasyland

Reporting from Ko’ Olina, Hawaii ——
On leeward Oahu, it is 85 degrees and the trade winds are blowing. Beyond a towering volcanic outcropping, the Pacific Ocean, at a steady 70 degrees, beckons. Honeymooners sip tropical drinks under a thatched-roof hut as the afternoon sun begins its lazy descent.

This is Hawaii. Do you really need Disney?

My wife, Nancy, and I and our 11-year-old daughter, Hannah, journeyed last month to Disney's new Hawaii resort to see whether Mickey Mouse & Co. could improve on near perfection. Aulani sets out to replace the clichés of tiki torches, totem poles, bamboo furniture and tacky luaus with a resort that celebrates Hawaii's history, legends and cultures with just a sprinkling of Disney's trademark pixie dust.

PHOTOS: Disney's Aulani Resort & Spa

And, for the most part, it succeeds — not only as a vacation resort but also as an entity that capitalizes on rather than marginalizes its destination, ironic for a company that built its brand on fairy-tale fantasy. Disney pulls it off with style, grace and beauty, and this $800-million resort delivers on its promise and its considerable marquee name.

Aulani opened in late August with 359 pricey hotel rooms and 460 time-share units. The 21-acre resort, about 30 minutes from Waikiki in Ko' Olina, is worlds apart in look, feel and spirit from that tourist mecca of high-rise monoliths.

"It feels like we're on a different island even though we're still on Oahu," said Michelle Blake, visiting Aulani with her family from nearby Waipahu.

And perhaps that is its magic, one or two missteps aside. Oahu — at least this part of Oahu — becomes the Hawaii we're all hoping to find.

Three A-frame thatch huts greet you when you arrive at Aulani, along with a pair of towers that rise like modern interpretations of a Hawaiian fishing village — if fishermen could build a 15-story hotel. An Aulani hostess greeted us, presenting Nancy and Hannah with flower leis and me with a kukui nut version. Telephone pole-sized timbers support the lobby's cathedral-like vaulted interior. From the ceiling, lights dangle like luminescent jellyfish caught in clusters of fishing nets. A verdant ribbon mural depicting island life wraps the lobby's perimeter.

Once in our room (about 382 square feet), we found whimsical touches throughout, including the pineapple-patterned quilt woven with hidden Mickeys, an outrigger canoe motif in the headboard and giant hand-carved fishhooks framing the wall mirror.

A flat-screen TV with a Blu-ray player (loaner DVDs were available in the community room for a fee) and hookups for video games (brought from home) sat atop a six-drawer dresser with a hidden mini-fridge. A table for two featured the only overt Disney reference in the room: a lamp with a ukulele-playing Mickey Mouse.

A small side table with compartments below for a coffee maker and an ice bucket stood nearby. Beneath the bed was space for stowing suitcases, a smart touch. On the nightstand sat a gourd lamp and an alarm clock with an iPod dock.

In the bath, a mirror with a wave-motif frame flanked by seashell sconces stood above a single sink vanity with six cubbies for storage. Island art on the walls and floral print throw pillows added just enough aloha flavor.

Once we had settled in, it was time to start exploring.

Just as it does in Hawaiian life, water plays a central role at Aulani, in such features as the water-park-like pool, sunset-facing hot tubs, saltwater snorkeling pool and the adult and youth spas.

The centerpiece of Aulani's pool is a man-made volcanic outcropping where hidden stingrays, squid and crabs are carved into lava-like rock. Two water slides — one a zippy body slide through the dark and the other an inner-tube slide with plenty of airtime — start at the top of the peak.

Hannah loved riding down the slide with me on the two-person inner tube that starts at the volcanic peak.

"The extra weight makes it go faster," Hannah said, clearly unaware I'd lost 10 pounds in preparation for the trip.

At the bottom of the slide, Hannah rocketed forward like a human cannonball as we hit the pool, the inner tube bonking her on the head and dunking her.
"Let's do it again," she said as she surfaced, unscathed and undeterred.

Hannah's favorite part of the Aulani pool complex was the 900-foot-long lazy river that wound through misty caverns, under footbridges and around the resort's tropical grounds.
But she had one complaint: "This lazy river is too lazy," said Hannah who didn't realize the meaning of island time. Life slows down a bit here.

The saltwater snorkeling lagoon, an 8-foot-deep pool filled with 1,000 angelfish, tangs and butterflyfish, was the most interesting part of the pool area. Hannah held tightly to my arm as we explored the man-made volcanic caverns and coral reefs as fish swam up to and around us.

It was a fine introduction for a first-time snorkeler like Hannah and a second-time amateur like myself. An all-day fee ($20 for adults, $10 for kids) included use of the snorkel equipment in the protected cove just beyond the Aulani's beach.

Nancy, meanwhile, had been looking forward to the resort's Laniwai Spa, choosing the $45 day pass. Her first stop was a fragrant steam room, which proved a bit too steamy. She jumped out within moments, grabbing a chilled towel from a refrigerator. Out in the garden, she tried the seaweed and eucalyptus vitality pools, where an attendant quietly brought her a selection of three hot teas. Next she sampled the six "rain" showers, each with varying flow levels. Her favorite: the mist shower with upward-spraying water jets.

Nancy said the spa would indeed have been a "freshwater heaven," as Laniwai translates from Hawaiian, if not for the guy conducting business on his cellphone while lounging near the vitality pool and the trash truck loading a Dumpster just beyond the wall of the outdoor garden.

Next door to Laniwai, Hannah got her first massage at the Painted Sky teen spa, choosing the 25-minute chair massage ($50) that included her choice of lotions (she went with mango) as well as hot towels for her face and neck.

"She massaged my face, my arms, my legs, my feet and even my toes," Hannah said. "It was awesome."

What wasn't quite as awesome for Hannah was not fitting in with either the teens or the younger kids, both of which had their own hangouts.

The age at Aunty's Beach House, a kids' club featuring a host of activities such as hula lessons and island crafts, topped out at 10, and at 11, she felt a little old for that crowd. She preferred the Painted Sky Spa, which doubled as a teen hangout and offered movie nights, pool parties, beach bashes, stargazing tours, lei making, dessert decorating, scavenger hunts and fitness challenges. Disney counselors welcomed her warmly at both locations.

The Pau Hana community hall near the pool was a family room with tables for crafts and shelves filled with games. The three of us made bracelets with our favorite Hawaiian words. Hannah's bracelet said powawae, or soccer, surrounded by kukui nuts and turtle-shaped beads. Nancy went with makuahine, for "mother." I made things difficult, searching for a definition for avocadoville, our name for our backyard "tavern." I settled on hale pae, "house of avocado."

Here we checked out a modified cellphone that doubled as a GPS for the Menehune Adventure Trail, a treasure hunt game in which hotel guests search for menehune, as Hawaii's mischievous little people are called.

About 300 menehune statues were scattered throughout the resort, and spotting them quickly became Hannah's favorite pursuit. The Hawaiian leprechauns could be found under footbridges, inside the shave-ice stand and atop bookcases. Hannah's favorite menehune was sleeping in the upper reaches of one of the elevators. More than once we waited in the lobby for the menehune elevator.

On the menehune trail, we used the way finder to track clues leading to madcap menehune mischief. By speaking into the phone, we caused the menehune to pop out of the rocks, blow conch shells and even start fires with the help of Disney magic. The finale sent us into a dark cavern where volcanic lava began to flow (on a cleverly disguised LCD TV screen).

"Daddy, look at the walls," Hannah said, gripping my hand tightly. "They're glowing."

For all that was good about Aulani, there were a couple of things that didn't work quite as we thought they should.

Disney generally went pretty light on theatrics, but an afternoon poolside party was an exception. Aulani's contrived character poolside party featured a Disney employee, using a public address system, extolling swimmers to scream, splash and hop up on deck for a hula contest. The pump-up-the-energy vibe disrupted the tranquil mood poolside. I cringed.

I would have dismissed the overexuberance as grand-opening jitters if not for the Starlight Hui, the resort's marquee event. In an effort to avoid the pan-Polynesian luau common at many resorts, Disney produced a tradition-rich show that paid tribute to Hawaii, its people and customs.

As the stirring show drew to a close, a youth counselor jumped up onstage in a but-wait-there's-more moment and called all the Disney characters one by one. The folklore-rich show quickly devolved into a disco with the characters leading the crowd in the "Electric Slide." I was dumbstruck but decided to jump up and boogie with Hannah, who could have cared less about thematic inconsistencies.
Click here to find out more!
Disney's Aulani is a Hawaiian fantasyland
The pricey new $800-million resort on Oahu manages to celebrate island magic and culture without the corporate-branded mouse prints becoming too heavy-handed.

The other issue was the restaurants. They were expensive and somewhat limited, unless you like fine-dining food and prices at every meal.

On our first night, we tried 'Ama 'Ama, Aulani's signature beachside restaurant. Dinner for three with cocktails came to $200, before tip, for what was pretty standard hotel fare. The restaurant, designed to look like a fisherman's waterfront home from the 1890s, featured an international menu. I ordered the goat cheese ravioli ($31) and asked for the recommended Sauvignon Blanc (although the wine never arrived and I wasn't charged for it). Nancy got the Chinatown duck breast ($40) and Hannah, who will never be a cheap date, went with the New York strip ($41). The food, we agreed, was good but not great.
For lunch, our choices were either high-end 'Ama 'Ama or poolside service, with $19 sandwiches and $21 burgers.

On our second night we had reservations at the Makahiki buffet, which was most in keeping with the resort's Hawaiian theme and was our favorite meal at Aulani.

At $43 a person, the Makahiki was more expensive than any buffet we had ever tried. (Hannah paid the full adult rate because the $21 kids' price was only for those 9 and younger.) Among the Hawaiian dishes: octopus poke, lomi lomi salmon and, of course, the omnipresent poi. The best of the entrees: the guava barbecued ribs.

On our last night at the Aulani, Hannah watched "Pirates of the Caribbean: The Curse of the Black Pearl" under the stars while Nancy and I went for pub grub at the 'Olelo Room, the resort's etymological-themed bar.

At the 'Olelo (Hawaiian for "word") bartenders provided pointers on Hawaiian pronunciation in a cocktail lounge covered floor to ceiling in the local Hawaiian dialect. Surprisingly, the most Hawaiian room in the resort offered the least Hawaiian fare. Nancy went for the Kobe sliders ($15), and I got the cheese plate ($17).

What Aulani lacked was a fast, casual sit-down restaurant for breakfast, lunch and dinner. Here's hoping that's on the horizon.

In the end, the Aulani was not unlike going to Disneyland: It's a fun-filled fantasyland that ends up being far more expensive than you expected. At least you go home with memories that can last a lifetime.

Republicans mock Obama’s teleprompter use

It’s one of the very symbols of the presidency — the ultimate accessory to the ultimate bully pulpit, seemingly trumpeting to all that the words being uttered actually matter.

So why, on the campaign trail, has the teleprompter instead become a symbol of ineptitude, mocked repeatedly by Republican candidates?
Picking up on a theme that has been rippling through GOP circles for two years, Republican presidential candidates are trying to use President Obama’s reliance on teleprompters to deflate one of his biggest strengths — his oratorical skill. If Obama can’t give a two-minute speech without a screen telling him what to say, the critique goes, it’s a sign that he doesn’t know what he’s talking about and can’t be trusted to do his job.

“Obama ruined the teleprompter for the rest of the politicians,” said Fred Davis, a media strategist who advised Sen. John McCain (R-Ariz.) in his 2008 presidential run and, until this summer, Republican candidate and former ambassador Jon Huntsman Jr.

“If you use it now, you’re like Obama,” Davis said. “It’s a negative because it’s a sign of inauthenticity. It’s a sign that you can’t speak on your own two feet. It’s a sign that you have handlers behind you telling you what to say.”

Since its invention a half­century ago, the teleprompter has been used by presidents and presidential candidates, Republicans and Democrats alike, seeking precision and accuracy in their speeches. But this year, the Republican hopefuls are generally just winging it.

Michele Bachmann says she will never use a teleprompter and often proclaims that if she makes it to the White House, she’ll ban them. Businessman Herman Cain joked last week that he threw the teleprompter off his campaign bus to “get rid of some dead weight.” And when Mitt Romney wrapped up a town hall meeting in Florida this month, a woman approached him and observed: “You did all of this without a teleprompter. Good job!”

“You didn’t see the teleprompter?” Romney replied. “It’s in my watch, actually. I just look down.”

From a politician sometimes ridiculed as robotic that qualified as a joke.

But Romney and the other candidates do still roll out the teleprompters for certain occasions, such as when the former Massachusetts governor recently delivered a major speech on foreign affairs at the Citadel. And sometimes candidates can be seen looking down at notes.

When Obama launched his campaign in 2007, he used teleprompters. He frequently addressed audiences off the cuff but almost always delivered the big speeches of his campaign from teleprompters — at the time making him appear more presidential, if voters noticed at all.

But now, Obama’s speechmaking is constant fodder for conservative radio, cable news and Internet outlets. On Tuesday, after someone took a truck in Virginia containing some of the most symbolic objects of the presidency, including the lectern and seal, it was the teleprompter that the conservative Web site Drudge Report zeroed in on: “SPEECHLESS: OBAMA’S TELEPROMPTER STOLEN!”
No matter — the president had another one up and running for his stops in North Carolina and Virginia.

Almost every time the president delivers a speech or makes remarks, no matter how mundane or brief, he reads from a teleprompter. (Two of them, actually — twin glass panes that rise on narrow sticks at eye level, one to his left and the other to his right, projecting an electronic visual of the scrolling text of his prepared remarks.)
President George W. Bush used teleprompters, but usually only for important speeches, said Ari Fleischer, a former White House press secretary. “Ordinarily, when he would just go hit the hustings, he’d use notecards, little 5-by-8 cards,” Fleischer said. “That was his standard style.”

There are clear benefits to using teleprompters. Speakers can deliver speeches just as they and their brain trust envision them. And they allow them to appear to be talking eye to eye with their audiences.

There’s a practical rationale as well. Presidents often give multiple speeches a day, covering a variety of subjects — a far tougher feat to pull off without a teleprompter than a candidate’s delivery of the same speech a couple of times a day.

Teleprompters also protect a president whose every word is picked over, shielding him from inadvertently making a diplomatic faux pas.

“It’s not that Obama’s not smart enough to be able to give a really good speech from outlined notes,” said Doris Kearns Goodwin, a presidential historian who was a White House aide to Lyndon B. Johnson, one of the first presidents to use a teleprompter.

“It’s one thing for a presidential candidate to say something stupid and cable news goes through it for a couple days,” she said. “But if a president says something that is not what he meant to say, it could be an international situation.”

Still, Obama’s habitual use of teleprompters feeds a negative narrative that Republicans are pushing.

“It’s sort of a soft joke that the president needs a teleprompter because he doesn’t have a sound command of the issues and doesn’t know what he’s doing,” conservative strategist Greg Mueller said. “He’s still in job training.”

At the 2010 Conservative Political Action Conference, then-Minnesota Gov. Tim Pawlenty ripped into Obama, saying his promise of “the next era of hope and change” had become an era of “hope and change and teleprompters.”

A year later, however, when Pawlenty launched his campaign for president, he read from twin teleprompters.

So, too, did Romney when he launched his campaign a few weeks later on a New Hampshire farm. Since then, Romney has used teleprompters at least four times, usually when he has addressed large audiences.

But for most other speeches, Romney has spoken without them. When he rolled out his 59-point economic plan in Nevada last month, he held up a single page of hand-scribbled notes on a white legal pad. “I don’t have a teleprompter here,” he said.

Texas Gov. Rick Perry used teleprompters when he unveiled his energy agenda at a Pittsburgh area steel plant last week but does not use them in his stump speeches.

When Cain addressed a tea party rally in Bartlett, Tenn., last week, a man shouted midway through his speech, “Where’s your teleprompter?” The audience erupted in laughter, and the candidate said, jokingly: “The teleprompter fell off the bus on the way over here. We were moving too fast. We had to get rid of some dead weight, so we threw the teleprompter off the bus!”

Meanwhile, after Bachmann’s flawed experience with a teleprompter in January — the Minnesota congresswoman delivered her tea party response to Obama’s State of the Union address into the wrong camera — she said she has banned them. “I know you’re not used to seeing a president without teleprompters,” she told an Iowa rally this summer. “But I’m here to tell you that President O’Bach — President Bachmann will not have teleprompters in the White House.”

Then again, if Bachmann had been reading from a teleprompter perhaps she would not have flubbed her own name.

Staff writer Sandhya Somashekhar
in Bartlett, Tenn., contributed to this report.

Philip and Karen Berg, founders of the Kabbalah Centre, declined to be interviewed for this report and instead issued this statement:

“The Kabbalah Centre is a nonprofit organization leading the way in making Kabbalah understandable and relevant in everyday life. Our funds are used in the research and development of new methods to make Kabbalah accessible and understandable.

“The Kabbalah Centre has received subpoenas from the government concerning tax-related issues. The Centre intends to work closely with the IRS and the government, and is in the process of providing responsive information to the subpoenas.

“The Centre is disappointed that the recent press regarding the Centre and this investigation is being fueled by rumors spread by a few disgruntled former students and former employees with personal agendas. The Centre is confident that the investigation will show that the Centre has and continues to serve its mission and act in furtherance of the wisdom and teaching of Kabbalah.”

NBA cancels first two weeks of regular season in labor dispute

NBA Commissioner David Stern on Monday canceled the first two weeks of the regular season after a seven-hour negotiating session with locked-out players in New York failed to produce a new labor deal.

Stern told reporters there's "no chance" of a full, 82-game schedule as the league announced all games through Nov. 14 are scrapped. This marks the NBA's first work stoppage since a labor dispute shortened the 1998-99 season to a 50-game regular season.

"With every day that goes by, there will be further reductions in what's left of the season," Stern said Monday, adding the sides are "very far apart on virtually all issues."

Players union president and Lakers guard Derek Fisher told reporters, "This is not where we choose to be. We're not at a place where a fair deal can be reached with the NBA."

Union Executive Director Billy Hunter said he was "convinced" this was a predetermined course by owners, "just part of the plan."

Stern, his deputy Adam Silver and several owners met with the union but failed to resolve differences on how to divide basketball income and handle restrictions on each team's costs. The two sides met for nearly 13 hours of talks over two days.

"Unfortunately we may need to miss a few games for them to know there's resolve among the players," Hunter said.

The cancellations cost the Lakers eight games, including the Nov. 1 opener at Staples Center against Kevin Durant and the Oklahoma City Thunder. The Clippers will lose seven games. NBA teams Monday night quickly deleted games scheduled before Nov. 15 from their websites.

Superstar players, including LeBron James and Chris Paul, earlier Monday tweeted, "LET US PLAY," with the tag #StandUnited. Phoenix Suns star Steve Nash tweeted: "You know we want to play & you understand the propaganda/misinformation from the owners."

Stern said season-ticket holders can collect refunds plus interest for the canceled games.

Fisher plans to meet with players Thursday in Los Angeles.

Owners locked out the players July 1 when the previous labor contract expired. Owners claim the league lost $300 million last season, with 22 of 30 teams losing money, and they want the players to accept a significant rollback in pay.

Fisher told reporters the sides are at an impasse over how to divide basketball-related income (BRI). Players earned 57% of BRI (about $2.15 billion) last season, but Fisher said owners are effectively asking players to accept 47%. Players have offered to accept 53%.

Owners also want a harder salary cap, saying it will help competitive equity. Previously, teams that exceeded the cap paid a luxury tax of $1 for each dollar they were over the cap, a system that allowed deep-pocketed teams such as the Lakers and NBA champion Dallas Mavericks to cruise by that limit while chasing an NBA title. Owners now hope to triple that luxury tax, a move players argue will reduce guaranteed money.

No more negotiating sessions are scheduled.

Meanwhile, the players and the NBA are awaiting a ruling by the National Labor Relations Board on their competing labor claims.

The union could also decertify, like NFL players did, and file an anti-trust lawsuit against the NBA to possibly accelerate a settlement.