Archive for the ‘Thoughts’ Category

What a Hot Summer Patio Taught Me About Life

The other day, on Labor Day, I decided to procrastinate from overdue work and tan my body in the backyard like an irresponsible hedonist.

Once sufficiently crisped and sweaty, I realized there was an arduous reality ahead of me, namely a Spanish tile floor, heated by 100 degree weather and blistering sunshine. In short, that shit was hot. Scorching.

I stuck my feet in the pool to prepare and contemplated my plan of attack. The road seemed helpless. I considered yelling to the house for a pair of sandals to rescue me. Instead I took a step.

I spotted a patch of shade in front of me and I sprinted. The soft spots of my feet were on fire, but my callouses, those gross, thick patches of skin developed from years of high heel abuse and walking around Manhattan, protected me slightly. I made it to the shade, took a breath, and spotted the next shady oasis. I ran there. Eventually, after making frequent stops along a very indirect path, I made it inside.

This probably seems like the most inconsequential first world problem to share. It is. But, to me, it also seems a lot like life. My friends and I are very worried all the time. Worried we’re wasting our twenties; worried we’re not in the right job; not in the right city; not in the right relationship. We’re suffocated by anxiety. We feel like we’re running a marathon with no idea where the finish line is. It’s probably not a sensation limited to the twenties, but of course this is all I know so far.

The point is, even though my destination seemed impossible to reach, I didn’t have to run all the way to the house. I just had to run to the shade—the closest visible spot that made sense. I only had to go it a bit at a time. Common sense and callouses—the blessings of a life full of mistakes—got me home.


Summer’s End

 The air sat heavy, weighed with coconut, and salt water.

Waves inhaled, exhaled, sighed.

She let the sand pool in the small crevasses of her body; the small cracks on the side of her fingernails; the shallow pond at the base of her ear; the valleys in between her toes.

Tiny, white shells, skeletons of something they once were, stuck fervently to her skin, grasping onto new purpose.

Closing her eyes, a cold wind washed over her, like air conditioning to sweaty skin.

Warmth hemmed, hawed, shuffled his feet, and chattered on about errands he had to run, people he had to see.

So summer settled into the ground alone.

She inhaled. Exhaled. Sighed.

And let the tide wash her away, receding into fall.


Friday Finds: 6.7.13

Hey dudes. Lately I’ve been thinking a lot about misattributed celebrity quotes. Can I do something about that?

Also, here are some links I like. A combination of my stories + other goodies…

I couldn’t help but to take this quiz… I got Marty.

I loved the artwork that went with my post on humidity-fighting hairstyles.

If you’ve ever wondered what the difference is between BB and CC creams (or why you should care about either) I’ve got the rundown.

How to cover up your hangover.

If you want to feel cool, this website turns your quotes into shareable masterpieces.

My favorite summer nail polishes.

How to go from beach babe to BBQ beauty with three products.

I’m thinking about buying this print for my bedroom (that’s my sleeping position of choice, to avoid facing ghosts, obviously).

A few good tricks to keep your makeup from running.

This made me laugh. Oops.

The difference between scrubs, peels and other exfoliating tools (plus which to use for your skin type).

The three products to keep in your desk for a mid-day refresh.

Someday I will buy a sofa like this.

My bicoastal perspective on beach beauty in The Hamptons and Malibu.

Anyways, I hope you have a frisky weekend. I’m personally a little distraught because I’ll be home sick missing Governor’s Ball. I know. I’m taking suggestions for movies that will subdue the jealousy.


Photo: “Absolute Cindy !”, Vanity Fair UK, August 1994
Photographer : Herb Ritts
Model : Cindy Crawford


Friday Finds: 5.3.13

Happy weekend sugar cheeks- what’s happenin’? I’m working this weekend, but taking some breaks to celebrate a bestie birthday and go shopping for the perfect Mother’s Day gift. Here’s a roundup of links I love, and stories I wrote for MAKEUP.COM over the past week.

A roundup of the latest celebrity beauty happenings.

A mascara mistake you might not know you’re making.

I covered Bridal Fashion Week in NYC and here’s one of my stories on the beauty at Romona Keveza.

I was wondering if you can take vitamins after they expire? Turns out, kinda, not really.

Then I also wondered, can you take allergy medicine after it expires? Answer is, for a couple of years, probably.

I was the bronzing queen this week… here’s my guide to sunless tanning like a pro, mastering bronzed babe makeup day and night, and giving yourself a 1 minute instant bronze makeover.

Found this project very interesting.

I exposed my obsession with punchy pouts (I’m on the hunt for a fuchsia lipstick this weekend!).

A guide to the daytime smoky eye.

Holler. Here’s an ASOS discount code to use this weekend, courtesy of Cup of Jo.

This is not your mama’s 80′s blue eyeliner

Natural nighttime beauty looks that would be perfect for al fresco summer nights.

I may try this hair trick.

A complete guide to makeup expiration dates.

How to apply primer like a pro. (PS do you have a favorite primer?)

Three of my favorite beauty looks to inspire you this weekend.

Have a bubbly weekend.





Word: Phone


Happy International Women’s Day


To the women who tell you when you have lipstick on your teeth, the ladies that never leave your wine glass empty, the old gals brimming with dirty stories and inspiring advice, the young ones with popsicle mouths and earnest grins, the chicks in between, wandering through it all, grounded by splinters of innocence and aspirations of wisdom: Happy International Women’s Day.


Happiness: The Inside Kind


Lately I’ve noticed how much I let external things affect my happiness. A new city makes me bubble with joy, attention from that cute dude makes my heart flip, an indulgent meal makes me feel all warm and fuzzy.

It’s not a bad attribute, in general, to find joy in these experiences. What’s the alternative? A calloused heart that’s never excited? The problem is, sometimes the good fortune well dries up. What happens when your phone is silent, bank account drained, and you stepped on a cockroach on fifth ave? What happens when your pleasurable experiences are suddenly defunct and you’d still like to remain a happy person?

Do you shift your focus to another vessel, another spot of your life that could define your happiness? Or do you draw inward, like a belly button during pilates?

We both know the answer: your happiness should come from your insides. You know how they tell you your hair will be long and beautiful if you eat all the foods you hate and stop swimming in vodka? Same idea. It’s an inside out sort of thing.

What you feel should emanate from your core, rather than seep in through your pores. You should smile because your insides are full of rainbow sprinkles, not because someone complimented you on your new shoes. You should smile because you’re alive and bright and with-it and you usually smell good, not because you’re rolling in cash and affection.

This is hard to do. As a sensitive soul it’s a challenge to keep my happiness sucked in and tucked away, instead of letting it flap around like a scarf in the wind, dependent on outside gusts.

Culturally we also tend to measure happiness by external measurements: do you like your job, are you in love, do you like where you live, is there food on the table, couture on your back? You know, the whole appreciate whatcha got schtick. We don’t usually ask each other, “are you happy just for the sake of being happy? are you happy just because you are what you are and you like yourself, stripped of everything else?”

I don’t care about the people who are happy and have everything. They can go ride unicorns together into the golden sunset. I think I need to  meet some people who are happy, despite having nothing but themselves. Those people are the reality check. So, should I google Mother Teresa quotes or find the friendliest looking homeless person on my block to chat with?


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