Think Pink

I'm not normally a fan of the color pink, but for some reason, I've found myself wearing a lot of it today. Perhaps I'm feeling ready for spring?

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Picture-A-Day:
Lace on my shirt. Office, noon.

Listening to and seeing tonight Best Coast.

Lydia, oh Lydia

I'm not really one to hop on trends and fads. By the time I make up my mind whether or not I want to invest in the latest thing, something else has come along. That said, the amazing Garance Doré kinda hit the nail on the head with this post, and the marketing genius of these.
Fake tattoos are very cheesy, but when they're made by Chanel? I think I like.


I love love love tattoos, which is funny because I consider myself too much of a commitment-phobe and way too picky to get any. These are some that might (almost) change my mind.

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I was right. Audrey Kawasaki art does make beautiful tattoos.

Picture-A-Day:

Hands get stranger the longer you look at them. My office, afternoon.

Listening to The Hotrats.

The Selby

How amazing is The Selby? This site inspires me every time I visit it. It also has a tendency to make me feel a little bad about my life because the people featured are so amazing and their spaces are so creative and unique and fabulous. But, that's why we have aspirations and goals, right? I've got my work cut out for me ;)
Recently seen:

Picture-A-Day:
Wood pile. My house, morning.

Listening to The Magnetic Fields.

Love and Romance

So, it's February. The month of LOVE. (actually, it's the month of purification, after the god Februus, but Valentine's day, right!?) Those who know me know I'm really not one for love and romance. Valentine's day makes me gag and people who live and breathe for their significant other confuse and disgust me. I'm saying this as a person in a very happy, committed relationship. I just need more in life than a man and googly eyes.

This is not to say I don't have a romantic streak. I'm a girl who can still get swoony when Darcy professes his love for Elizabeth after the 100th time I've read the book. I just strongly believe love and romance are largely fantasy and that it is dangerous to confuse what you see in movies and read in books with what you should expect in life. At some point, the book ends or the credits roll. If every real relationship ended directly after that first exciting, knee-melting kiss, if we could be every romantic heroine and life was a series of beautiful men who challenge, excite and madden us, if there were ancient family conflicts and other dramatic barriers to overcome and when we finally get together...MAGIC, then I would say, go for it, believe in perfect love.

I do believe in love, despite being a terrible cynic, but I think love is in the effort, the process of knowing someone. It is in the details and what makes individuals special and distinct. I love catching myself in a moment with K when I just know what's going on. When I feel completely in the moment and at ease. I like to know what it means when he's chewing on his fingers or looking at me a certain way. Yeah, some of the drama of the unknown is gone, but I fully intend to have more romantic moments in my life (like drinking wine from the bottle in a park in Paris late at night, talking about life with K). But generally I like my romance where it belongs--in the realm of fiction.

I suppose I've ruminating on love because in this tiny lull in a very busy schedule, I've been watching some old favorite movies. Two early influences on my romantic expectations, and although both dreamy and romantic, a little closer to reality:















(I also have to admit that Celine's style was a partial inspiration for my 90s party outfit).

Picture-A-Day:

Blood orange. My office, afternoon.

Listening to one of my favorite soundtracks.

Do you happen to know where they go in the wintertime, by any chance?

"The best thing, though, in that museum was that everything always stayed right where it was. Nobody'd move. You could go there a hundred thousand times, and that Eskimo would still be just finished catching those two fish, the birds would still be on their way south, the deers would still be drinking out of that water hole, with their pretty antlers and their pretty, skinny legs, and that squaw with the naked bosom would still be weaving that same blanket. Nobody'd be different. The only thing that would be different would be you. Not that you'd be so much older or anything. It wouldn't be that, exactly. You'd just be different, that's all. You'd have an overcoat on this time. Or the kid that was your partner in line last time had got scarlet fever and you'd have a new partner. Or you'd have a substitute taking the class, instead of Miss Aigletinger. Or you'd heard your mother and father having a terrific fight in the bathroom. Or you'd just passed by one of those puddles in the street with gasoline rainbows in them. I mean you'd be different in some way--I can't explain what I mean. And even if I could, I'm not sure I'd feel like it." --The Catcher in the Rye, Chapter 16.

RIP, J.D. Salinger. And thanks.

Here's a sampling of the photos from the 90s party. Taken by the great Light Leak Photography.

There were so many things going on, I forgot to really take photos, but I managed to capture the sweet game of Pogs, a tiny bit of the dance party (DJ Shoeshine, aka K was spinning awesome 90s jams all night--at one point, there was a runway-off to "I'm Too Sexy" as well as a boys against girls dance-off ... amazing).





Picture-A-Day:

I really like pens and highlighters. My office, noon.

Listening to the State of the Union address. ♥