IT Girl

I'm going to go ahead and preface this with the fact that before reading IT, I honestly couldn't have cared less about Alexa Chung. All I knew about her was that she somehow always ended up in Elle magazine with perfectly adorable, dishelved hair and enviable flats, and a dorkiness  so perfectly executed that it landed her in the front row at Calvin Kline. 

Also Alex Turner. I knew about the Alex Turner thing.

But I mean, whatever. 

I honestly had no idea what she was even famous for. 

And then, she turns around and writes this book, IT, and it's all suddenly very clear to me. 

The woman has made a very lucrative career quantifying, decoding, living and perpetuating this amorphous idea of cool. She has distilled 'I don't give a fuck' into something palatable. Likable. Enviable even. And then she bound it and put her name on it. 

My inital thought after discovering IT on the shelf, next to a biography of Eleanor Roosevelt, was exasperation. Because I'm a snob. I had this momentary lapse where I began losing my faith in my chosen profession, convinced that it'd been further saturated by malnourished, watered-down writing. It's the same feeling I get when I see that Lauren Conrad's written another book about her favorite pink lipstick shade and the correct way to construct a topknot. 

The thing is though, something compelled me to buy it. I BOUGHT this book, you guys. I spent my money on it. Intern money. Money usually reserved for such necessities as food, toilet paper and box wine (kidding, but just about the fact that it's in a box). I don't know why. Maybe the cover. It FELT like a book. Hard-backed with no sleeve, rough to the touch and monogrammed with a title. The pages were thick. It was cute and pink. Plus I had this vague notion that she did actally sit down and write the words. 

But the point is, I bought it. 

And then I went home and binged on it for 2 days.

And I liked it. I liked it a lot. I liked it enough to try tie-dyed harem pants and a granny sweater despite my 5'4 inch, slightly bottom heavy frame. 

I guess it's because as I was reading it, I just felt her "I dont give a fuck, I wake up like this, this peplum top used to belong to a 60 year old refugee but I look dope in it and I'm gonna wear it out with my very cool friends and Instagram myself" attitude seep into my fingers as I turned the pages.  

The book isn't exactly a how-to guide. It's  more of a vague road map. She provides a context for her taste and lets you put the pieces together as you see fit. She's catalogued her inspiration for everything from her 'I just had amazing sex' hair to what she chooses to wear to the gym, and suddenly everything you know and don't know about her starts to make sense.

There's an ode to the Spice Girls and just a few pages later you stumble upon a truly beautiful, aching section about heartbreak that I could have seriously used like 3 months ago. Granted, I don't really understand it's place in the book, aside from the fact that harrowing depression has informed some of my best fashion decisions as well. I'm right there with you, Alexa.  

The only problem, really, if you could call it that, is that reading the book is like hanging out with her. It was done so well and so effectively that by the end you've become best friends with someone you can't ever know. She's more familiar to you, and ironically a little bit less cool because you've gotten to see behind the magic curtain. 

If that's the only problem though, I'd call IT a sweeping success. It's something I'll reference again, if only because the pictures she includes are engaging and inspiring, and something that I previously thought was out of my reach - true, effortless fashion sense - was suddenly and literally, in the palm of my hands. 

25 Things for My 26th Year

So my birthday was yesterday and I was lucky enough to ring in another year of my being on the earth with ferris wheels and raspberry cake and sparklers and best friends and rice krispy treat fondue and American Horror Story and fall weather and my favorite people in the world. Pretty dope, no?

sparklers. and raspberry cake.

For whatever reason, my birthday always feels like more of a new beginning than New Year because it's right at the start of a new season, and I'm a year older which means a part of me is actually, new. I'd like to think so anyway. I'd like to think that over the course of a year I've morphed into a more functional, emotionally stable, financially secure person. People in hell want ice water though, so I guess we can't have everything.

What I DO have is this fresh, dewy hope that the next year of my life will be full - of love and learning and more rice krispy treats.

And if I'm really lucky, I'll get to cross some of these things off, too.

25 Things for My 26th Year

1. Get outside - These days, I go from my bed, to sitting in my car to get to work, to sitting at my desk, to sitting back in my car to get home, to my other desk to do homework, then back to my bed. My life right now is just transitioning from one little box to another. I need fresh air, I need dirty bare feet. And bike rides and camping trips and long walks.

2. Forgive more quickly - I've had this thing about me for pretty much my whole life where if you've hurt me at all, I don't forget it. And in fact use it as a reason to stagnate and not trust and do all sorts of other psychologically damaging activities. But I think I'm over that now. I'm ready to feel light and open. And I can't do that if I'm white knuckling every bad thing that's ever happened to me.

3. Hold on to nothing - see above. Life is this ephemeral, slippery thing. And nothing lasts at all. It's taken me a long time to figure this out. But I'm starting to get it. It all tastes sweeter because you know it's gonna be gone.

4. Do drugs before I'm too old to be reckless and irresponsible - I'm not talking about heroin and meth guys. Jesus. But I need to tune in and drop out before I'm like, 30 or whatever. Free yo' mind, man.

5. See the West coast - Ugh. Seriously. There really is no excuse for my being in my mid-20's and not having visited the other side of the Mississippi. None. It's actually embarrassing to type. I want to see Oregon. Or Washington. Or California. And I will.

6. Leave the country - This is a big one. I want to go somewhere where I'm completely uncomfortable. Where I can't lean on language and familiarity to navigate myself. I'm of the firm belief that travel, the big kind, is required for the growth of the soul. Call it hippy-dippy if you want, but it's true. I want to feel small. I want to be forced to recognize that the United States is but a teeny speck on this vast planet.

7. Turn my internship into a paid writing job - aside from being absolutely necessary for all the aforementioned trips I'm apparently going to be taking, I'M TIRED OF WRITING FOR FREE. I want to make a living doing what I love doing. And I'm still under the delusion that that's a possibility. I'm young and free in America. And I will follow my destiny. Even if that means writing for a teeny newspaper or editing a community magazine or being a writing/literacy tutor.

8. Write. Everyday. Like it is my job - This is self explanatory. Writers write. It's that simple. People who wait around for a reason to write aren't writers. They're waiters. (That's not mine. I read it somewhere. But it's awesome. And true.)

Not a waiter.

9. Visit my dad more - I can't run from it forever. And I have so many things I need to tell him. Even if I'm just talking to stone.

10. Be patient with myself - I hold myself to the most impossible expectations. And then subsequently let myself down when I don't live up to them. It's not healthy. And I wanna spend the next year knocking that shit off.

11. Move - This one is mandatory. If I stay in the apartment I am in now, I will start inflicting property damage on the place. It's a horrible, tiny space filled with negativity and bad memories and it's time ta-go.

12. Go back to yoga - More specifically hot yoga. Aside from running, hot yoga is the most amazing, relaxing, painful, challenging, rewarding workout ever. I miss how I felt when I used to do it all the time.

13. Volunteer somewhere - so it turns out that sometimes I can be a pretty self-centered bee-yotch. We all can be actually. We all spend most of our time operating under the assumption that our problems are the biggest, most awfulest, DEFINITELY most important things going on in the whole of the universe. They're not. And the best way to be reminded of that is to go and spend time with people who could use your help, your time, your love, your hands. I want to help. I want to step outside myself and give something back. Maybe at a women's shelter, maybe for a literacy program. Just something.

14. Finish another semester of school - because this freaking degree isn't gonna earn itself.

15. Read Infinite Jest by David Foster Wallace - it's just a thing, ya know? Like the Mount Everest of the literary crowd. Or the Himalayas. Or Mt. Kilimanjaro. Or anything off of Man vs. Food.

16. Hike a piece of the Appalachian Trail - I only live a few hours from the damn thing. Someone come with me.

17. Karaoke - this has more to do with learning to not care what people think about me than just marking something like this off a list. I tend to get paralyzed by people's perception of me. So this is a call to arms friends, let's do eeet.

18. Go to a professional hockey game - I've just never been to one. I wanna see ice and violence way up close.

19. Study French - cuz why not. I think it sounds kinda beautiful.

20. Practice kindness - as far as Audrey Hepburn and I are concerned, this is one of the best anti-aging regimens there is. I never feel better or healthier than when I've done something for the sheer sake of being kind. And I want to make it a point to do it more.

21. Foster female friendships - so for most of my life, most of my friends have been of the penis-having variety. It's not because, "oh god, girls just don't like me. I hate drama lolz." It's just the way the chips fell. I ended up with a handful of amazing guy friends who I adore to the ends of the Earth. But that doesn't mean that I don't crave time with my girlfriends. There's just this innate understanding between girls. You immediately feel less alone. And there's power in that. I don't spend enough time with the smart, strong, inspiring, wonderful women in my life.

22. Not be such a raging asshole when I'm driving - mostly because I'm getting closer to the age where I could just start having heart attacks. Something happens to me when I'm driving. Something dark and evil that only comes out when I'm face to face with such profound stupidity that I really believe I could inflict violence on someone. Turns out it's not that healthy. So I'm working on it.

23. Listen to my grandmother's stories - God, my grandmother is the coolest, best person I know. And she tells the best stories. One of my favorite things to do is to get in the car with her and go somewhere and listen to her tell me about how she grew up, what the 60's were like, how my mom was when she was little. It reminds me where I come from. And I never want to forget that. I don't do it enough. But I'm going to start.

24. Cook more - it's therapeutic. And healthy. And I'm good at it. I just need an adorable kitchen in a little loft apartment to do it in.

25. Stop apologizing - Gah. Women are so good at this. And it's sooo lame. If I have nothing to be sorry about, I'm not apologizing. If I don't have time to hang out or I don't feel like making the drive or I don't want to see you or I simply say no - I do not have to apologize for it.

Here's to 26.
xo.

Parachute Pants Revisited

While I do spend waaay too much time putting outfits together and trying to look as cute as possible while maintaining the appearance of effortlessness a la Jennifer Aniston, one fashion rule I always follow is this: comfort.

I don't care how much it costs, how amazing it makes my ass look, if I can't move in it, if it can't withstand the inevitable wrinkling it will endure in my car, I'm not interested. A little intentional slouchiness never hurt anyone. In fact, if there was a way to justify pajama bottoms as interview wear, I'd be the first on the bandwagon.

Alas, I doubt Conde Nast would be at all interested in my shiny resume if I showed up to their offices sporting my softest pair of Joe Boxer PJ pants*.

Thank GOD that the fashion world has finally decided to merge the  two concepts (comfort and style) and create what I think may be the best variant of sweatpants/bellbottoms/skinny jeans ever in the history of time.

Ladies, gentlemen, lovers and friends. I present to you ... the harem pant. Am I going jogging? On a date? To a concert? To the DMV? MET Gala? You don't know. And that's the beauty of these bad boys. Ultimate versatility.

All these can be found at Urban Outfitters.

And these are available at Free People.

Now, before you say anything, I do realize that the cut of these pants is a little hard to pull off if you have the hips of anyone over 12 and you're under 5'10. However, I also know that life is short...inso facto, we should all feel free to wear whatever the hell we want. Inso facto, I'm buying some.

Proportions be damned.

Bring on the Parachute Pant 2.0.

*Thanks to my grandmother every single Christmas Eve, I own at last count, 15 pairs. Oy. Love you, Maw.

Cheers dears.

xo.

Blowing Off Cobwebs and Getting Ready to Go

Holy cow, the crickets were getting pretty loud over here. I wish I had some awesome excuse, but really, all I've been doing is packing and studying and taking tests and writing papers and dealing with plumbers and having no hot water.

Needless to say, my blogging inspiration had been kind of depleted.

I did want to check in though and remind everyone, because every single one of you definitely probably forgot and totally wants to know, I LEAVE FOR NEW ORLEANS IN LIKE, 36 HOURS. To see Fleetwood Mac, and Willie Nelson, and the Black Keys, and Gary Clarke, Jr and about a bajillion other amazing musicians. And, since it's May 1 (holy shit, it's May?), I can say that Bonnaroo is next month. Whoop whoop.

I'm so fucking excited. You can tell by my gratuitous use of expletives.

I'm so excited in fact, that I decided to take a break from studying and writing a paper on the forced assimilation of Native Americans to bring you guys some Summer music festival inspiration.

So yeah. Tomorrow, I'm turning in a final paper, finalizing outfits, loading up the car, and come 5am Friday, I'll be headed to Louisiana to officially start my summer.

It's a beautiful thing, folks.

Happy May Day.

xo.

By the way, none of these images belong to me and I claim no rights to them.

And It Was All Yellow

I'm not even kidding about that either. Every conceivable surface in the state of Georgia is currently covered in pollen. Spring has inevitably arrived and with it that yellow powder that seeks to send all of us into sneezy, wheezing fits. And there's no point in fighting it because the pollen count likes to hover between 5000-8000 these days. So all we can really do is wait for rain.

Well, that, and create a blog post inspired by the color of pollen. Cuz, ya know, I'm all about turning a pervasive, gross, gritty, car-smothering substance into something positive :)

So without further adieu, here are my favorite yellow things for Spring.


This amazing print from Mumu is peeeerfect for music festivals or road trips to New Orleans or any other event where you want to look fresh and bright and bohemian and cooler than everyone. And come payday, one of these beauties will have a new home in my closet. I love me some Mu.

I need a new bike to tear up the Silver Comet trail with in this beautiful warm weather. And I think this one would do just fine. It's dreamy, no?

I can never be reminded of this enough. I'd love to have these pretty words hanging over my desk. 

This bad boy needs to figure out a way to get into my kitchen so I can whip up lemon meringue pies. After I learn how to make lemon meringue pies.

This Spreading Landscape Throw from Anthropologie would be a welcome addition to any picnic basket or live outdoor music event or cuddly night on the couch hiding from those inevitable Spring thunderstorms (thatspawntornadoessometimesandscaretheshitoutofme).

Well kids, that's all the time we have for today. I'm nannying overnight and need to go load up on some mood stabilizers to make it to tomorrow.

I kid, I kid.

Kind of.

xo.

Images not linked were found via Google and weheartit.

Women I Wish I Could Be Friends With - Katharine Hepburn Edition

"Never complain. Never explain." - Katharine Hepburn

So a few years ago, when I was couch ridden and emotionally retarded having just returned home from Jacksonville, the only things I really wanted to do were:

1. spoon peanut butter out of the jar and slather it on Oreos and
2. watch Turner Classic Movies.

I wasn't really interested in showering or making a living, so I'd gorge myself on movies from the 50's and 60's as a way to distract myself from the self-pitying pit of depression I was in. Movies back then always had everything figured out in a couple hours. Innocent. Wholesome. Perfect. And one of my absolute favorites was Summertime, starring Katharine Hepburn.

In the movie, Katharine Hepburn travels as a single, middle-aged woman to Venice to live out her dream of living abroad after saving up for several years. A woman traveling alone, especially to a foreign country was practically unheard of in the 1950's. But this role was perfect for Hepburn, who was all but notorious for busting balls and breaking the boundaries for the women of her day. 

And if I haven't made it abundantly clear already, that's my kinda lady! I think some of us, myself included, take for granted how far we've come since aprons and tupperware dominated the brain space of our grandmothers. Even the fact that I get up and choose everyday NOT to put on a dress is progress. My grandmother wasn't allowed to play softball or basketball when she was a girl because her father, my great grandfather, wouldn't allow her to wear pants or shorts. But Katharine Hepburn? She said bump all that and made a conscious decision to  do whatever the hell she pleased. Once, in a studio, the crew took the trousers she wanted to wear away from her to try and force her into a dress. Instead of acquiescing, she walked around in underwear until the damn things were returned.

It was all in her blood though. She was raised by a mother who was a feminist before anyone ever even conceived of the word, an abortion rights advocate, teacher of liberal open-mindedness, and co-founder of Planned Parenthood.

And while she was resented for all this (yes - resented for a pair of pants), she never apologized. Her independence was seen as audacious and her forthright nature and imposing physical stature was an affront to the softness and gentility of women everywhere. But she held fast to it. Not unlike the way I hold steadfast to the stem of a wine glass- all but daring someone to question how man drinks I've had (note: the answer is always 2). Many chided her for quitting her career and tending to the man's man Spencer Tracy, who maaaay or may not have been married. And Catholic. Some called her feminist convictions wishy-washy. But to me at least, that's not what feminism is. It's about choices. It's about doing what you want and living like you want - not how you're supposed to because you happen to be a woman. And she did that.

Katharine Hepburn was smart, career-minded, witty as all hell, and a stunna. Who couldn't use more friends like that??

Cheers! And Happy Tuesday!

xo. 

As always, these images were taken from Google, weheartit, and amodelstudent Tumblr. I don't not own any rights to them.

Gap-Toothed and Gorgeous Are Synonymous

If you know me, you know that one of my distinguishing features is an itty bitty gap between my two front teeth. I was actually fairly lucky in school, in that I didn't know any assholes who were ignorant enough to ridicule me about it.

Thank goodness for that, too.

Because if not, I probably would've gotten it fixed with awful braces, instead of it essentially fixing itself the older I got. People asked me to all the time. But not surprisingly, I didn't listen and did what the hell I wanted. Braces be damned.

Now it's just a quirky little part of my face that I love. It's specific to me, part of my own visual diary.

And it would appear that I'm not the only one. Turns out that some of the most beautiful women in the world rock a gap. And way better than I do.

I feel like it's important to highlight the fact that perceived flaws can be a wonderful, beautiful, unique addition to a person. They should be celebrated and glorified.

It's worth noting too that in the 14th century, a gap in between your front teeth was symbolic of a sensual nature. The Wife of Bath had a gap. And in Africa, where a gap is considered to be a rare mark of supreme beauty, women who possess one are seen as wise.

So rock that gap girlfriend. It looks damn good on you.

Xo.

Oh, it should be noted that all of the gorgeous, strong, unique women above are models, one of whom has been bewitching the heart of Johnny Depp for like 15 years. The gap is ALWAYS in.

Music Monday

Is everyone in love with Zooey Deschanel? Because they should be. And not just because New Girl is absolutely hilarious and she can make her eyes look perfectly round.

Everyone should also be in love with her because when she and M. Ward get together and decide to make a song, the universe - at least for 4 minutes - decides to right itself and send down positive vibes whose sole purpose are inspiring beautiful, melodic, nostalgic music.

Thankfully, that's happened. And the result is a new album from She & Him, titled creatively Volume 3.

Take a listen at the first single here. There isn't much about it that's surprising, but for the people that love them, like me, that's not a bad thing. So go throw on an A-line dress or some Oxfords and enjoy.

Sweet dreams.

xo.

It's Friday, I'm in Love

with Kate Bosworth's editorial in the March issue of Elle magazine.

Do you guys remember Kate Bosworth? I've gotta be honest, after that whole Blue Crush thing and her being a liiiittle bit of a racist be-yotch in Remember the Titans, I had kind of completely forgotten about her.

But when I saw the editorial she did in this month's Elle, I was completely smitten. She's channeling Joni Mitchell if Joni Mitchell had been best friends with Brigitte Bardot in 18th century France. Forgive my possibly incorrect historical reference, but she looks so, so beautiful. There's something wistful about the way she's wearing the clothes. And it looks like she was just absent-mindedly caught in couture in her bedroom. The luxury of it all was an afterthought.

It's perfection.

One day, my bed and my hair and my clothes will look like this. And it will be awesome. Also, if you're into that sorta thing, go pick up this month's copy of Elle. Aside from stunning editorials, the essays this month are pretty incredible. Nice little snack for your brain :)

Happy Friday, loves. And HAPPY WOMAN'S DAY :)

xo.

Images courtesy of Zulema Fashions and Google Images