Boring Update

This week has been fairly hectic between styling a shoot, going back to school and cultivating an obsession with the BBC show Sherlock.

This is almost all of my attractive clothing.

And while much of that week has been bundled up beyond recognition I've found a few creative ways to stay warm.

Poncho: Grandmother's, Gloves: Cynthia Rowley, Jeans: H&M, Boots: Dolce Vita

Ponchos are creative, right?

I love these boots so much I'm thinking about getting them in red.

Subtle and understated, no?

In other news, I've been thinking about the format of the blog and what direction it should take, and if you have any feedback it would be more than welcome. After all, the more you talk, the less work I have to do tracking the numbers. What do you like to read? Fashion posts? Unwanted Advice? Sappy sentimental stuff? Outfit posts?  Random ramblings?

London

What can I say about London that hasn't been said a million times? I hadn't been there in ten years, but it still felt familiar to me, it's so iconic and a part of our cultural knowledge. It's what I imagine New York City must be like to the rest of the country. Except it smells better.

The view from St. Paul's Cathedral

And the subways have hilarious names like Cockfoster.

And there are phone booths.

 And their Occupy St. Paul's movement is quiet and dignified but still strong and inspiring. I wish I'd had more time to get to know the people involved, because they are, from what I can tell, absolutely doing it right.

Paris: It's Just So Freaking Parisian

The Pantheon

Paris is my geographical soulmate. Everyone smokes and drinks too much and their main priority is that everything look good and taste even better.

Also it turns pretty colors at sunrise and sunset. It's inspired more artists in its history than Pattie Boyd and as I sat in a cafe with a cappuchino, a croissant and a Moleskine notebook I couldn't help thinking, "Good Christ, do I feel Parisian. Someone come hit me over the head with a baguette before I start spouting prose."

They don't know it, but they feel pretty Parisian too.

 We were there for only 24 hours, so I was determined to cram in as much le crap as was le possible. Luckily, our hotel room was tiny, had a weird bathtub and a balcony that looked out onto a creperie, a patisserie and a wine cafe, so even waking up felt French.

Luxembourg Gardens

The Boy Contemplates Rue's Distant Cousin

Good God, I love this city.

The Crypt at the Pantheon

Clothing Purchased: None. I had wine to drink and cheese to eat, man. Priorities, people.

Amsterdam: Not Just for Stoners, Who Knew?

Amsterdam is The Boy's geographical soulmate. No, not because of that. Get your mind out of the coffeehouse. Because it has a strong foundation that is beautiful but functional above all else. The basic structure of the city was established over 400 years ago, and while it's grown exponentially since then, it's still remains much the same. That foundation was based on ideas and designs that were made to last.

In many ways the city looks the same as it always has because they're so rooted in the past. But at the same time, it's one of the most open-minded, accepting and forward thinking places I've ever been. Yes, that means lots of drugs but it also means it's been a refuge for persecuted people for centuries, particularly Jews. And it has a thriving LGBT community, since they hosted the first ever gay marriage ceremony.

I just realized it might look like I put this here because it's rainbow like the Gay Pride flags but actually it's from a cocktail museum and I thought it was pretty because I like shiny things and bright colors, that's all.

I think I may have discovered the Dutch secret: they raise their children well. It's the only conclusion I can come to, given the lack of annoying children. They've simply created an environment that fosters honesty and acceptance and it seems to start in the home.

For example: when we first arrived, the traffic situation was indiscrutable to us. We couldn't figure out how bikes, cars, trams, boats and pedestrians were co-existing so peacefully on the tiny roads and canals. We hardly ever heard car horns or ambulances, so it was clearly working out somehow.

Then we figured it out: common courtesy. When bikers had to leave the bike lane, they yielded to cars. When cars drove on the tram tracks, they yielded to trams. And everyone stays out of the canal. They all make an effort to be thoughtful, considerate and not an idiot. It was a true marvel.

It's also beautiful and has more museums than you can shake a stick at. Seriously. I spent so much time stroking my chin and looking thoughtful I've started doing it in my sleep. Also, Dutch is the funniest goddamn language I've ever heard.

Clothing I Bought: These Amazing Booties.

How Dutch is this shit?

Hamburg Holiday

I spent Thanksgiving in Hamburg, Germany, and while I was working for most of the time, I did get to enjoy their Christmas Fair, which is a uniquely European phenomenon that I totally adore.

Every year, from November to January many towns in Europe have a Christmas fair in the evenings with hot mulled wine, local food and local artists' wares.

In the case of Hamburg, their culinary specialties are fried seafood, sausage, apple pastries and an invention so genius that it makes me almost totally forget about the whole Holocaust thing.

You're ok, Deutschland.

That's right. Waffles on a stick. Delicious, cakey, German waffles covered in Nutella on a stick so you can walk around and find the next thing you'd like to put in your mouth before you're even done. Pure genius, I tell you.

I wish we'd import these fairs and their be-sticked wonders in America, but they'd probably charge $12 for a mug of hot wine, so perhaps it's for the best.

I love how sparkly and cozy these fairs feel, and how they celebrate what makes each town unique. So, in that vein, I'm compiled a list of things that I feel exemplify that spirit that would give any celebration a shiny, quirky feeling.

calendar, heels, clock, paperweights, boots, tart servers, earrings, camera

Not included: mulled wine. Have a happy holiday everyone!

Monday Morning Thoughts

Come in picture form today...very tired, not much for words. Or human interaction. Or anything other than coffee.

Train Station in Zurich

Sprungli Bakery in Zurich

Swiss Countryside. They ain't fucking around.

Farmer's Market in Basel

Bern, from one of their many bridges

So, that's a little taste of the trip. One thing I loved about Switzerland was how good it smelled everywhere- there are flower shops on almost every corner, everyone has a garden and the entire country is as clean as a whistle. Not sure how to convey that on a blog- maybe a scratch and sniff entry? Eau de Swiss? Clearly Monday morning has made me punchy.

Now off to mainline coffee before the shoot.

Jetlag...Not Just in Our Heads, Huh?

So, apparently, jet lag is real. And not just in my head. For some reason, while in Germany the jet lag worked in my favor by waking me up at 5:30am, which was around the time I had to wake up anyways. Also, the lovely people on set kept me going with a steady stream of cappuchinos, and that helped. That and the excitement kept me pretty hyper all week despite the lack of sleep. And then I got home and passed out on Friday night and pretty much didn't wake up until 1 on Sunday.

St. Peter's Church

Beatlemania Museum

Sgt. Pepper's display in Beatlemania Museum

I ate lunch on a boat.

These people are going for some kind of world record. Language barrier made it rather unclear what..

St. Michael's church

This dog had a German name but I called him Squishy.

St. Petraus' church

Didn't have much time to explore since I was shooting all day, but these are a few pictures. I had one day off, and I tried to take full advantage (Beatles' Museum, climbing St. Michael's church, lunch on a boat, rode the bus and the subway, rented a bike, saw the Venice of Hamburg, ate a lot of German food and drank a lot of German beer).

Weekend Recap

Got back last night from the sunny Domincan Republic to a rude reminder of why we left: cars covered in 6" of snow and ice and a suitcase of summer clothes useless to protect us from the elements. But don't worry*, I'm still buzzing from my sun-induced high.

Our days went something like this: wake up, eat, swim, lounge, swim, eat, swim, lounge, swim, eat. There were also cocktails which, given the swim-up bar, integrated seamlessly into our routine. It looked something like this:

And I looked something like this the whole damn time:

I didn't take that many pictures, but I'll post a few of them as the days go on and I slowly return to my standard New England winter body temperature.

Not pictured: other people. Now, The Boy and I never exactly blend into a crowd. He is constantly told he looks like Jesus, and I'm a million feet tall and unsteady in my heels, so....we always draw a few stares. But we stood out like particularly sore thumbs at this resort. For one thing, we were pasty white lilies in a field of burnt orange and even purple leathery poppies. We saw a few like souls cowering under sunhats and umbrellas but on the whole, we used more sunscreen than the rest of the guests combined. But don't worry, we still soaked up plenty of sun.




*I know you were really concerned.

Rhymes with Blalentine's Blay

Rhymes With Blalentine's Blay

in which the author unwittingly celebrates the weirdest holiday of the year

The Boy and I accidentally had a really romantic Valentine's day weekend. We didn't mean to. But I got a fondue kit on sale at a bookstore (isn't that where everyone gets their fondue kits?). Did you know that chocolate fondue is romantic? Because I didn't.

And then the London Hotel offered me afternoon tea for two (which I highly recommend, by the way).

And then we decided to try the Champagne Bar at the Plaza.

So, just to recap: chocolate fondue, tea for two, champagne cocktails. 

Then, suddenly, it was that day that rhymes with Blalentine's Blay, when everyone is being pressured to tell people that they love each other because some Saint was bludgeoned to death 600 years ago. A holiday that I think is weird and morbid and that I only put up with because it involves champagne and cupcakes.

And I celebrated the living hell out of it. I even had ribbons on my shoes. Weird. And delicious.

 

*let's be honest, I love it much more than the next girl