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Posts tagged ‘writer’

The Statement Piece

October 28, 2013

Guacamole

There’s a scene in the Sex and the City movie where Miranda and Carrie sit down to a cynical Valentine’s Day dinner and the waitress comes up to ask  if they would like any wine. They both simultaneously reply, “Red.” When the waitress then inquires as to whether they would like a glass or a bottle, both Miranda and Carrie, again in unison, practically interrupt the waitress and say, “Bottle.”

While there have been many points in my life where I have related to each of the ladies of Sex and the City, this one struck me to the core. First of all, who orders a glass of wine on Valentine’s Day, especially when you’re single? Lock it up, waitress.  Second of all, I’m very fortunate to have many friendships where we begin and end each others sentences, especially when it comes to wine. But what really hit home for me was how infuriating even the most simple interactions can be when you’re in a crappy mood and how easy it is to bark at a person who really has no role in how you are currently feeling.

Take me at the airport circa 2006. I arrived 52 minutes before my flight was set to depart and the woman at the check-in counter wouldn’t let me check my bag because I needed to be there at least an hour in advance. After a major fight with an ex-boyfriend while en route to the airport, I was in no mood to deal with missing my flight back to college because I was 8 minutes past the “appropriate” check in time. And so, as you can likely imagine, I lost my marbles and my temper and proceeded to growl at this innocent woman for a solid fifteen minutes. Deep down I knew this little temper tantrum was because of the fight I’d had with my boyfriend, but in the heat of the moment I was ready to take out every TSA member in sight.

Another situation similar to this was on an unfortunate Sunday afternoon when I’d had too much to drink the night before. I woke up knowing that the only thing to get me through at least part of the day was if I could consume a burrito on my couch while watching a Nancy Meyers rom-com. So, I threw on a pair of leggings and oversize sweater and began the two block treck to my favorite local burrito store, the sun blinding me like a mole just emerging from underground every step of the way. Once I got there I placed my usual order, “Grilled chicken, cheese, rice, black beans, salsa, and guacamole,” to which the cashier said, “It’s going to be a dollar fifty extra for the guacamole.” This is when I again, lost my cool. My head was pounding as if a hungry toddler was slamming her fists down on my brain, my mouth was salivating at the sight of the juices dripping from the scoop of beans being slathered onto my tortilla, and god dammit I know the guacamole is extra! Though my outburst was no where near as verbal as the one I’d had in the airport years earlier — I both blame and thank vodka for this — I interrupted the cashier just as Miranda and Carrie interrupted their waitress and said, “I KNOW.” I of course then got a strange and horrified look followed by a drawling, “Ooook” before I threw my ten dollar bill on the counter, grabbed my burrito, and stormed out.*

I recognize that both of these scenarios reflect badly on myself and were there chill pills for situations like these I guarantee I would have a prescription. But I also can’t help but wish there was some way to let those innocent humans who happen to cross our paths in the midst of one of our  temper tantrums know that we’re having a…moment. So, when I came across this shirt that basically says everything that I needed to say that hungover Sunday, I couldn’t help but click purchase. Normally I hate slogan t-shirts — “Idaho, No Udaho” oh shut up! — but this guacamole shirt seems to not only speak for me but could also potentially prevent unnecessary grumpiness from diarrhea-ing out of my mouth on a not so bright and shiny day in the future.

This brings me to the final point of today’s post: while we often refer to statement pieces as articles of clothing that make us stand out amongst the rest, couldn’t they too be a piece that does the speaking for us when we’re just too temperamental to do so ourselves? Just think of how many fights could be avoided if women had underwear that read, “Not tonight honey, I’m on my period.”

*I’ve since taken to ordering from this burrito place on Seamless Web.

Guacamole shirt by Local Celebrity can be purchased here and here.

The Intellectual Pile Up

October 24, 2013

Newsie

There’s this thing that happens to me on an almost weekly basis. No, it’s not that I forget to take my birth control or leave the house wearing two different socks (though both of these scenarios do happen), it’s actually much more intellectual than that. Can you tell I’m wearing my glasses right now? Just kidding, I don’t have glasses.

Anyways…

Each week my kitchen table turns into a pile up of newspapers, weeklies, and magazines that my mailman stuffs into my mailbox. And each day, as a new one arrives and I toss it atop the ever-growing stack, I tell myself that I will spend the evening burning through each publication. But by the time 6PM rolls around, all I want is to vegetate in front of my TV to the twangs of George Costanza, and I therefore end up leaving my stack of intellectual goodies for yet another day of unfulfilled promises.

For those of you who are paperless aficionados, perhaps this is the moment where you’re itching to tell me to take my subscriptions to Tablet Town, and I hear you, I do. If I went paperless I wouldn’t have a giant stack of unread articles staring me in the face every time I go to check on the contents of my fridge. I could also accomplish a lot of this reading while riding the subway or sitting in the waiting room of my gynecologist’s office. I’d also probably be sparing my mailman the pain of rolling and cramming each magazine into my small, rectangular mailbox. But even with all of these justifications, I cannot bring myself to move my weekly reading build up to the digital world. Here’s why:

For starters, I like the reminder that I have all this reading to devour and enjoy. If I had my subscriptions on my iPad I could simply “Mark as Read” and no longer trouble myself with the notion of so many unread articles. I am also a sucker for tear outs and underlining — two tactile functions that fail to translate as coherently to our beloved tablets. And lastly, this pile up allows me the opportunity to shut off for a couple of hours. With a giant stack of magazines at my disposal, I allot myself an hour or two where I leave my computer and cell phone in the other room — something that’s not so simple when you’re addicted to hitting the refresh button on Instagram — fill up a mug of coffee if it’s the morning or a glass of wine if it’s the evening, and sit indian style, moving my eyes from left to right, absorbing whatever these prints have to offer. Call it meditation, call it neurosis, call it a waste of paper — it’s a moment in the week where I can finally look away from a blaring screen and instead feed my brain the kind of juice that mindless shows like  Parks and Recreation or procrastination sites like BuzzFeed may not.* If I were a kid I suppose you could equivocate this pile up to a parental reminder to eat my greens since we all know that sugar highs and processed cheese trade offs happen in the lunchroom.

*This is not a knock on BuzzFeed or Parks and Rec. In fact, I might be switching between writing this and scrolling through a list of 26 Costumes That Prove Pugs Always Win at Halloween right now…

Do My Ankles Turn You On?

October 23, 2013

Ankles

While at dinner the other night, the topic of ass men vs. breast men came up. For those of you just hearing these terms, it’s my belief, and many other people’s for that matter, that when it comes down to one or the other — a Sophie’s Choice situation, if you will — there are men who prefer the butt and men who prefer the boobs. Though I am not a man — but wouldn’t it be cool to be one for a day? — something tells me this has to do with how they like their hands to be filled: encasing our derrieres or kneading our grab bags. Either way, it’s apparent that the preferred area be supple, or so I thought…

During this mid-meal T vs. A discussion, I learned about a new area of the body that makes a man move from six to midnight; the ankle. That’s right, that boney area poking out from the bottom of your trousers or the top of your stilettos apparently has the same appeal as the lady bits you’re likely more used to and aware of flaunting. At first I thought this was a fetish thing, like people who love feet or belly buttons or nostrils, but after a little investigatory work, it turns out that ankles are a legitimate…turn on(?!).

To give a brief lesson in history, ankles were one of the ways women could really “seduce” a man in the eighteenth century since their boobs were already perked up and on display. So, is it possible that ankles hold as much tantalizing power as they did back during the Regency Era? Probably not since ankles are about as visible and inconsequential today as a nose. But in looking at the above image, I can’t deny the sensuality of the naked ankles at right  (slut!) and the provocativity (I made up this word) of the ones just poking out between the cuffed denim and gold brogues at left (tease!). So, I suppose the lesson here is that, when it comes to seducing a man, we should take a little more caution when shaving around the ankle bones and neglect our socks until our exposed joints can no longer handle the brisk breeze. I guess it’s a good thing that culottes are in and that I love flaunting my shoes as much as I do.

Black and White Impact

October 22, 2013

Stripes2

Apparently black and white is having a moment, to which I ask, was it ever not? Honestly though, when you’re in a fashion bind or want a put together outfit that requires little to no thought, isn’t black and white always the way to go?

I’m currently having one of those moments with my closet where I stand in front of it naked on almost a daily basis and complain to myself, “I have nothing to wear.” Of course I have plenty to wear but the problem, which I’m sure you’re all familiar with, is that I don’t want to wear any of it. Pieces that were once a go-to feel obsolete and new additions get worn so frequently that they’re either always in the laundry pile or unwearable because they should be added to the laundry pile. This is where the black and white comes in.

Stripes1

As drawn as I am to color, I can say with confidence that black and white pieces take up the majority of my closet. I’m practically a broken record in telling you that black pants are my second skin, white t-shirts and button downs may as well be my BFF (until they get those pit stains because I’ve worn them too much), and now that fall is finally here, black blazers and jackets are in as frequent a rotation as socks. Since I seem to have an affinity for such colorless pieces, I’ve consequently turned to color-stripped outfits in my sartorially frustrated state that, much to my delight, exude the same amount of impact and depth as say, a bright and colorful outfit resembling a Murakami painting. If you’re not convinced, then need I remind you of the general awesomeness of Beetlejuice’s suit? No one ever called him boring for wearing black and white. Therefore, if you’re ready to pull your hair out because you too find yourself with “nothing to wear,” take a cue from me, Beetlejuice, and fine, even Robin Thicke, and go for a look that’s totally hueless.

Stripes4

Asos coat | Helmut Lang shirt | Paige Denim leather leggings | Gianvito Rossi heels (still on sale!)

 

// photos by Emily Malan

‘Cause it’s Friday: Let’s Talk Cheese & Wine

October 18, 2013

cheese

I am powerless before cheese. Someone could lay out slices of American and you would still find me molesting the plate, piling slices together like a god damn Egyptian building a pyramid. I am also relatively powerless before wine. I only say relatively because it depends on my level of hangover, but for the most part, you will rarely see me turn down a glass of Pinot Noir (Chianti is good, too).

Almost once a week, my friends and I throw “dinner parties,” which are very often more like “appetizer parties” to which I am always assigned the cheese plate. I relish this assignment as it gives me a reason to venture over to my favorite local cheese store, The Bedford Cheese Shop, and engage in a 30-minute tasting frenzy that contains more moaning than an 18th century brothel with the store’s cheese monger.

“Have you tried the Pierre Robert?,” she asks while passing a sizable sample over the counter before slipping one into her mouth as well. A simultaneous, “OOOF,” almost always follows as we each nod, smacking our lips together commenting on the creamy nuttiness of the triple crème. This interaction is applicable to really any cheese taste test — give or take a few, but I really don’t discriminate when it comes to cheese — and then the two of us settle on three to four cheeses just different enough to make the plate interesting but still complimentary. After that it’s off to the wine store where I consider all the flavors that have just smothered my tastebuds and try to choose a wine that will work with each. I usually go with a Pinot Noir, Chianti, or Barbera because they are among my favorites in the red wine department, but this is where I should tell you that I really have no idea what I’m talking about.

This brings me to the image in today’s ‘Cause It’s Friday: I recently stumbled upon this chart of cheese and wine pairings and couldn’t help but share as I have no doubt that it will make all of our lives, particularly those of you who have as deep a passion for cheese and wine as me, much, much easier. And though this chart doesn’t contain the most specific of cheeses — i.e. La Tur, Tomme de Savoie, Truffle Tremor, etc. — it’s generic enough that you should be able to find a comparable classic cheese to the more exotic ones you plan on bringing to whatever dinner/app soiree you’re attending or just a party of three featuring you, a hunk of cheese, and a bottle of wine, which was me last night with a slab of Manchego and bottle of Côte du Rhône.