Category: Who? Me?

A Short List Of Things I Want To Accomplish In My Twenty-Seventh Year

On September 11th, 2012, I turned 27.

Several things came as a shock to me on this birthday:

  • The fact that it’s been one more year since this happened.
  • The fact that I have a real job that took me away from my friends, family, and My Honey for 16 full days.
  • The fact that I am a true adult (gross).
  • The fact that my friends are true adults (some of them even have BABIES! What!)
  • The fact that I am not perfect – the horror!

While traveling for the aforementioned 16 days, a colleague asked me my yearly goals. I suppose this is like a resolution, but for birthdays (have you heard of this?). I must admit that I like the concept. Resolutions are for chumps – birthday goals? Those are for winners.

In an effort to stay accountable, I am going to write a list of birthday goals to share with you, dear reader (whom I have missed so).

Without further ado: A Short List Of Things I Want To Accomplish In My Twenty-Seventh Year

Stay Connected
I want to make sure I return every love note (or piece of hate mail) that comes my way. For me, it’s just far too easy to forget to reply to a text, an email, a phone call (even a singing telegram). I also plan on bringing back the handwritten note. Vintage is the new black.

Spend on Experiences
There are people who spend money on frivolous things like shoes and purses (Me) and those who spend it on experiences (not Me). While I love the material things lining my closet, there was nothing more amazing than the way My Honey’s face lit up when I surprised him with a day at the Intrepid Air & Space Museum. Worth every single penny not spent on my accessories.

Mind Your Beeswax
It’s my favorite phrase to say to my parents. And also easily something I need to do myself. For lack of a better way to say it, I want to care less. Seems like a quick way to release some burdens I don’t need to carry.

Reboot, Relax, & Read
Aside from being the daughter of a librarian, I’ve learned that the one thing I cannot do when I am stressed about work is read. I can’t even focus on a trashy magazine. So, it’s a new goal to breathe, reboot, and relax, and read… especially when it feels impossible.

Stay Happy, Stay Whole, Stay True
I don’t think you really need me to explain this one, do you?

Xx

Did you know I’m an adult? Because I sure didn’t.

It’s come to my attention that I am allegedly an adult.

I say allegedly because I’m still not convinced this is true. However,  all signs point to yes as the evidence continues to creep up on me. First, there’s the job I go to 5 days a week and worry about on the weekends (in fact, I just got off the phone with a client. It’s 9:30pm). Second, there’s the apartment I live in, not with parents but a roommate. Third, there is actual rent to pay, and utility bills (I mean, what?). Fourth, I cook my own meals! Sometimes, I even cook for boys (but I also consider that just “playing house” so perhaps that points back towards being a kid again – phew!).

But what has really drove this alleged adulthood home is the daily phone conversations I have with my mother. Those talks are no longer about me or about my day. About the mundane facts that fill a twenty-something’s head that she feels the need to tell her another. No longer about what I had for lunch or the cost of the boots I bought on sale but shouldn’t have bought at all. No longer about how long my day felt or the crazy person on the subway.

Our conversations have become equal parts her day and mine. Or sometimes, just her day. Her hardships. Her ups and her downs. They have turned into conversations where she takes as much as she gives. And I’m embarrassed to say that once I inquired why, and she said simply “because sometimes it’s helpful to talk through things like you do.”

What a thought… That parents need to talk things through like I do.

And that’s when I realized that I am allegedly an adult: when my mother confided in me. When my mother asked for my advice, when she was honest and open about issues that matter.

Me. An adult (allegedly). Who knew!

You Can’t Have It All

It’s Saturday morning, I’m on the train platform, waiting for the N, listening to Zeyi’s Working for Bill*, and hoping for inspiration so I can dust the blog off with some fresh writing when it hits me. Hard:

You can’t have it all.

Now, this is a shock. And a bit concerning. And totally disheartening to me. I whip out my notebook and scribble down the idea before I head out on my errands for the day, all revolving around work.

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iMpXAknykeg?fs=1]

You can’t have it all? Really? I suppose it’s hard to accept, or grasp because it’s the opposite of everything I’ve ever been told. As an only child and single woman, I grew up thinking I could have whatever I set my mind to. Wanna move to NYC? Done. Wanna get a new job? Done. Wanna get that boy at the bar? Done. Wanna get those shoes? Charged.

But then I got online and did a little research, and the results were so depressing.

Uh, what’s that?

You can’t have it all.

Oh. Okay.

At the beginning of 2010, I did not have it all. I was incredibly single and incredibly sad. I was grateful for one thing: a job that kept me so busy I had no time for thoughts or friends. My days circled around events and industry parties; and it was exactly what I needed to get by.

The summer changed everything. I was making time for friends, making new friends, and trying my hardest to enjoy my 20′s. At the same time, I was working harder than I’d worked before. The most epic day was my birthday, where I clocked at least 12 hours at work before heading off to Fashion’s Night Out (an important evening for my industry), and then celebrating my 25th. I was on top of the world. Did I have it all? I considered it a possibility but they say hindsight is 20/20 and I now know that’s not the case.

Flash forward to December and things have reversed from where they were almost a year ago. I have almost everything I’ve ever wanted in a solid group of friends who preoccupy the majority of my time when I’m not working. Yet, I feel unfulfilled in other areas.

So wait, you can’t have it all?

Hm. Do you think that’s the case? I mean, what does “all” really entail when it comes to your life? Love, happiness, a great career, wonderful friends to lean on? Does one always suffer to allow you to achieve the rest?

I suppose I’m on a blind journey to see what’s true; throughout which I’ve been keeping this gift from my mother on my wrist (in the form of a bracelet with the following inscribed)

Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding, In all your ways, acknowledge Him, and he will make your paths straight. Proverbs 3:5-6

I’ll let you know where I net out. Where did you?

*Note, Working for Bill did not inspire such a sad little post. It inspired me to be creative because it’s a work of art. If you’re not listening, you should be.

Scary Age No More

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I used to be terrified of the age 25. Seriously, 25 was my extra scary age. I used to think, “ohmygah*, 25?!!”

Every birthday celebrated felt like a minor death sentence. It was all very dramatic – like, Elle Woods breaking up with her boyfriend dramatic.

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=37qYkE76jcw?fs=1]

I didn’t even celebrate 24. I worked and went to bed instead (ahem, the 25 year old me thinks the 24 year old me is super-lame).

But to be clear, I cemented 25 as my Armageddon back when I turned 18. I had the coolest girlfriends, I was in a super hot a cappella group, and I basically thought I was the shit. What could get better than being 18 and extra hot*? Clearly, I was blinded.

If I could give my 18 year old self a side eye* I would. Now, that’s not to say I don’t have the occasional “eep! I’m 25!” moment. The most clear being the time I wouldn’t buy candy for some boy’s “basketball team” on the street and he called me an “uptight old head*” ………. iCant.

That said, being 25 (I celebrated my birthday in September) is so rich and ripe.

  • It’s like being a teenager, except you’re 5 years from 30.
  • It’s like being in college except you live in the city, pay rent and big girl bills, and have lots of sex.
  • It’s like being a foolish hot mess, except for when you’re at the office, because then you’re buttoned up and super fly.
  • It’s like being version 2.5 or 3GS (but not quite 4G because I’m not quite 30).
  • It’s like being “MJ Fadeaway” + “Maiah on Fiyah” + “Ms. Johnson (if you’re nasty)” all the time.

…and I love it.

What was your scary turned favorite age?

*”ohmygah” – copyright 2003 – 2010
*I was actually fat with a pretty face. But still. Confidence is a hell of a drug.
*What’s a side eye? Click here.
*What’s an old head? Click here.

11:11

A tweet by dear friend, Carolina, of United States of Mascara

While catching up on old issues of Glamour Magazine, I came across an article in the October 2010 issue entitled 8 Things You Need to Know About… You by Wendy Shanker. The article, which doesn’t depart very far from the fluffiness I love about Glamour Magazine, touches on 8 great points. They vary from health issues, to personal well being, to money management; but my favorite was #8:

A go-to wish for anytime you’re near a fountain, about to blow out candles or see 11:11 on a clock. 

It’s true. 11:11 rolls around and everyone closes their eyes to prep for a wish. I’ve been participating in this routine for as long as I can remember. Slumber parties with girl friends meant we had to stay up until 11:11pm to make a wish! Then (despite the fact that if you tell someone your wish, it will never come true) we would tell our wishes to each other before finally going to sleep.

Back then, the wishes were silly. My favorite memories include the following standard wishes:

  • A pair of Adidas Sambas
  • A new L.L. Bean backpack with my initials embroidered on it
  • My first kiss
  • A slow dance at the school dance with the school heart throb
  • A later curfew
Clearly, these are all life changing wishes for someone in middle and high school. When I grew up, so did my wishes. They seem to align more with the author’s, who notes the following:

My wish list? The continued stability of my health, for which I am so grateful; the possibility of starting a family on my own; another Madonna tour; a constant flow of funny things to write about (and people to pay me to do it); and most of all, an appreciation of what life serves up every day.

I love the cheeky addition of the Madonna tour wish, but stay aligned with the rest. 
My go-to wish? Since about my sophomore year in college, it’s been the same thing: “happiness.” Because you really can’t go wrong with that, can you? 

On Being A Black Cat, part 2

To clear up any confusion: I was, indeed, a black cat on Halloween. 
[via]
 And just because I’ve been a black cat [almost] since birth does not make me uncool. And contrary to popular belief, it certainly is not like still dressing up as the Black Power Ranger at the age of 25. The Black Power Ranger is awkward, and no longer cool, and being a cat for Halloween is classic, like the 1950′s… (thanks for the reference, Dushane)

 From left to right: Pilot Larissa of The Ella Project, Allie the Devil, Me aka the best black cat in the world, Crystal aka Nicki Minaj & Vicky Lee aka Major Bombshell.

On Being A Black Cat, or all the costumes I’m dying to wear instead

I have always loved Halloween. Not really sure why, as it’s a rather creepy “holiday”, but there’s something about getting dressed up and having a reason to party that resonates well with me.

Should you be lucky enough to take a trip to my sleepy suburban hometown, my mother will sit down with you and show you albums upon albums of me in the little outfits. First-day-of-school outfits, first-school-dance outfits, first-date-to-the-mall outfits, first-field-hockey-game outfits, and of course, the Halloween outfits.

For as long as I can remember, I dressed as a witch. In fact, I wore my witch hat from mid-September through to Thanksgiving, when my parents told me it was no longer acceptable and I had to wear my Christmas socks instead (which I did, duh). As soon as I got to middle school, I started to care more about what I looked like and decided right then and there that I would be a black cat for every Halloween thereafter.

 [via]

I’m 25 now, and I have tried 1.5 times to wear something other than my uniform of cat ears and a tail. Last year, I tried to be Madonna, but told people I was an 80′s baby instead because my girl, who also went as Madonna, actually LOOKED like her, and I looked like a jumble of the sale section at H&M.;

This year, I decided I was going to be a captain. I went all out and purchased the captain’s hat and everything. Last night, I tried to test my roommate and her boyfriend. I opened my bedroom door and stepped out in my costume:

“Do I look like a captain?”
“Um…” their eyes flickered to each other briefly as they tried to find the best way to let me down gently. I held my hand up in a salute, to help the cause.
“I like your hat?” My roommate said.
“Maybe if you had some of those shoulder things, that would help :/” her boyfriend suggested.

I went into my room and threw on my faithful cat eats in defeat.

That said, there are so many AWESOME Halloween ideas I would love to give a try. My first stems from my new obsession with Nicki Minaj.

 [via]

I want the hair, I want the “Barbie” necklace, I want the ridiculous jewelery and the booty. I want to walk around mugging for cameras with that extra cheese, and the occasional growl. I want the British accents and the 5 personalities… just for one night.

I blame Claire of The Fashion Bomb for my black cat restlessness. Every Halloween she highlights great costume ideas, make up tricks, and outfit inspiration – all of which I am eager to try out now. Check out her series here, and additional costume photos below for some inspiration.

 A little Amy Winehouse and some extra faux-tattoos never hurt anyone.
Sandy OR Rizzo from Grease. In fact, I think I own Sandy’s leggings…
A sailor! Is it too much to ask?

 Diana Ross, because really – she’s fierce.
 Does this even need words?

Don’t mess aroun’…

I mean…

 Oh well… just keep an eye out for this girl in a black cat costume.

Suburban Girl Apologizes!: #NYFW

Hello little darlings,

Many apologies for the radio silence over here.

I’ve been spending my days working (see Maybelline and Essie images) at Mercedes-Benz Fashion Week at the new Lincoln Center location. When I wasn’t running around managing the spaces and models, I was trying to attend as many shows as possible thanks to my amazingly generous clients and the guest appearance of a certain Kelly Cutrone!

So, as Fashion Week ends tonight, the madness winds down, and I bid Lincoln Center adieu til Feburary 2011, I’m excited to have time for posting regularly. I’ve got a few fun things planned, including a little three part series called “Suburban Girl Reviews Shows She Wasn’t Actually Invited To But Still Attended”… hm. I’m actually out of breath typing that! Gotta work on the series title, huh?

Regardless, it’s coming up soon. And if you absolutely can’t wait and miss me so, so much it hurts then check me out on twitter. I do my best tweeting from the backseat of a cab – especially when the cabbie farts audibly like this afternoon. Amaze.

Xx

Now Introducing: Suburban Girl

What better place to begin this venture, than from my sleepy suburban town of Weston, MA, where I’ve lived since the age of six. I’m enjoying drinks and apps (“drapps”) with my little bougie family of three (minus one semi-recently deceased pooch) talking about bougie things like 401K’s, becoming an equestrian again, and buying Burberry – I am relishing this moment and am totally reminded why I covet this life.

Suburban born and raised, I grew up listening to Matchbox 20, Joni Mitchell, vacationing on Martha’s Vineyard and saying things like “I will NEVER move to New York City.” Flashforward past 4 months abroad in London and 4 years at beautiful Connecticut College and I find myself living, working, and generally just being in NYC. Whoops.

So far, it’s been an experience. Of all the things I miss the most, it’s greenery. Or driving. Or central air conditioning (yum). Or REAL shopping malls (read: the Natick Collection). But I digress; I’m putting on my best “city girl” face and making the most of my experience, because in your 20′s, there is no other way.

Now, here’s the nitty gritty:

This will serve as an exploration of my life in the city (any and every city I ever find myself living in). It will highlight the highs, the lows, the nice and mild plateaus. It will (hopefully) be raucously funny, extremely poignant, and deliciously random.

This is Suburban Girl in The City. I hope you enjoy.