Category Archives: Travel

January 4, 2013 · 4:09 pm

DECADES LA; And my thoughts/manifesto on SHOPPING

PART I: Me and Shopping

So….I’ve always liked to shop by myself. Always. I kind of feel like it’s an activity that’s possible to find a soulmate for, but I’ve never found one and don’t know if I really want or need one. I prefer to shop by myself, because it’s not just shopping. I wander…and need to take my own time. I can’t be rushed, I can’t feel like the person I’m with has gotten bored or moved on or isn’t finding anything they like. I just like being by myself, and walking down a street, stumbling into stores, and spending hours there if the merchandise is good enough to merit hours-worth of exploration.

When my friend Beth lived in Brooklyn Heights, that’s what I would do. All day. ALL day by myself (while she was at work; ’cause I’d usually go up Thursday night and have Friday to myself). I would walk through her neighborhood for MILES to the point where I was way beyond her neighborhood and had been…just everywhere. Until my legs were utterly aching. From 9 am to 9 pm. I’d wake up in the morning, put on my ‘lil converse, and stop into every single store on the street she lived on (Court). Chain stores like American Apparel and LF, and then random little boutiques…shoe boutiques…accessories boutiques..home boutiques…and vintage-specific stores. And I’d take pictures of the things I liked:

And pictures of me IN the things I liked:

And then I’d stop for lunch by myself….

(photo I took at Nectar, a mini natural food & juice joint on Court Street in Brooklyn Heights, Fall of 2010)

….and then wind around to Smith Street and go to Free People and Dear Fieldbinder and all of the awesome no-name shops in that area. I would do the same thing in Soho, but it’s more fun in Brooklyn because of all the ‘unknown’ boutiques that there’s only one of. In Soho you’ve got a lot of stores that to ME aren’t so fun to shop in (Sandro, Rag & Bone, APC, etc. where the prices are like $500 for a single sweater or pair of pants). But, from wandering alone there I did discover Ina (an awesome vintage/second-hand boutique) (where I still think about the ’70′s-style TURQUOISE Alexander Wang gown I wasn’t able to take with me even though it was only $160 because I had already spent all my money by the time I found it and to this day my heart aches for its loss); and Think Closet, where I’ve gotten a few really cool pieces from Japan and Australia an on mega-sale. Like this flouncy baby doll dress that has mini “boots” all over it:

Literally– the print is of different styles of lace-up boots:

MOST of the time, if it’s a place I know that I can go back to, I don’t do research beforehand. Usually, I’ve unintentionally acquired knowledge of spots just inherently due to being an incessant reader of blogs and magazines, where you passively gain knowledge, like that ‘such-and-such is a great store’ in Brooklyn, or LA, or Palm Springs, or Austin or whatever, and then that nugget is filed away until I find myself in that city. But usually, if I have the freedom, (like I’m not on a super tight schedule or with anyone else), I just want to see what I find on the ground. I don’t want anyone else’s map and I don’t want to plan the day. I just want to walk and see what storefronts catch my eye. As I wrote in my old blog bio, I walk and stop into any store that “looks cute.” That’s my criteria. How else do you stumble upon anything? It’s an establishment that looks cute. A coffee shop, a juice joint, a store. You just walk….and see a window display or store front or sign and it looks cute/cool, and you go in.

Like this one, on Court Street, in Brooklyn….

….whose Halloween-decorated windows drew me in because, well they were cute overall, but those skeleton trays….(which I would end up buying 5 of)….

….And have been all over my home for 3 years, from jewelery trays to wall decoration….

….And remind me of Brooklyn and that phase of my life every time I see them.

And so it’s just something I enjoy doing solo. In college, in Hanover, I would walk to Bella by myself and got to know the life-story of every single salesperson there. In Barcelona, I spent about 10 hours a day walking and going into stores. My first time in New Orleans, I separated off from my boyfriend and the group I was with, and spent legitimately 5 straight hours in the SAME single store (after meandering down a street and stopping into this and that until I hit the jackpot with a vintage/second-hand store called Funky Monkey that I’ve mentioned no less than one-thousand times on this blog; as detailed in this blogpost here.). This past Thanksgiving, I woke up and spent all Black Friday (like 9 am to 7 pm) doing my thing (it was my first Black Friday ever).

My experiences shopping solo in various cities–Barcelona, my own (DC), New York, New Orleans, LA, Hanover (haha sweet little Hanover in there with that group of major worldly cities), are always interesting and fun socially, because it’s just like going to a bar for happy hour and meeting a fun bartender and having great conversation with the fellow bar patrons and people working there. I’m not a silent mute person, so while I’m IN the store, flicking through racks, and inspecting items, and trying things on, I obviously end up talking to the salespeople– asking them questions about where they buy from, and how they ended up working there and we go back and forth and then I know how they met their boyfriend and we’re probably exchanging phone numbers or getting drinks later that night. Or I’m interacting with other customers who are shopping at the same time, like when you can tell they are debating an item and they give you a look like ‘do I get this?’ and then you say ‘I love it on you, you have to get it’ (assuming that’s the case) and then you start talking.

So I find it all just fascinating and and human and social and educational. Every time I’m out in the world, walking down a street, stopping into businesses, and talking to strangers, I am learning. I might learn about a new brand, I might learn that I love the combination of hot-pink lips and leopard sweaters (because that’s what another customer was wearing); or I might learn of a new place in France that I didn’t know about because the customer that I was talking to had an accent and was from there and then we started talking about it; or I might learn what the process of getting an apartment through a broker in the East Village is like because they just went through it; or I might learn about a new restaurant that I wouldn’t have otherwise heard about because we got to talking about how I’m from out of town and need a good place to go; or I might be inspired by a woman who tells me about how she quit her corporate job to freelance and I’m learning about how she structures her work-at-home days and I’m learning about an aspect of an industry I never knew about because it used to be her job and we’re talking about it. And to me, it’s ALL interesting. Human beings fascinate me. And stores aren’t run by robots…or nobody. Every single one has a human being in it, at the helm. And so every time I walk into one–whether it’s in a small town in West Virginia or a side street in DC–even IF the person working there is god-awful and I can’t have a conversation, it’s an interesting opportunity to just…observe another person who is likely stylish. And their image informs something in my brain….the way they side-sweep their bangs, or their cropped denim vest. Or something I overheard them saying on their cellphone while I was in the dressing room. Being confined within a small store gives you more access/opportunity to observe or talk to or listen to a human, than just people-watching on a street, because that’s all too fast. On the street, in the world, everyone’s just passing by. But I love the social-animal world of stores, because yes, though you can observe humans on a sidewalk, or at an airport, or a cafe– you don’t have as much opportunity, to make a friend or learn something as when you’re in a little store. There’s something about the dynamic of a consumer, on their free time, opening a door, and walking into a space that is the domain of whoever is working there; and that person working there (generally–in an ideal world) has a passion for and knowledge of whatever their currency is (interiors, clothing, shoes), and generally, the consumer shares an interest in that same thing or they probably wouldn’t have walked in (or don’t stay very long), and so the person working there has subject-matter-expertise and knowledge that the consumer is interested in. I have formed legitimate BONDS with the people who work at the stores I’ve gone into. And not because they’re selling me and want my money as a customer.

And “shopping” doesn’t always mean buying something. It just means entering a domain and checking out the wares. It’s visual stimulation. It’s like a museum. All shopping really is, before the financial transaction, is looking at/browsing/considering pretty things…interesting things. Except it’s more active than staring at things that you don’t have the OPTION to buy. Because at a store, versus a museum, there is a selection of things–edited and selected for you– the potential consumer–, and you have the option to actually sort through it and find what suits YOUR eye and take it home and incorporate it into your life. You have to look, and work, and think. And it’s inspiring every single time– if you’re in the right mood. I get IDEAS for things when I’m in stores, whether I spend a cent or not. I get ideas from the decor. From the way things were styled. From the way the shopkeeps were dressed. For how I could rearrange my furniture. (but like with anything, you have to know yourself and when you’re not in the mood to shop, shopping sucks). And don’t even get me STARTED on how much new music I have learned about just by being in a store.

So that’s historically been my relationship to shopping– especially when I’ve traveled and am in a new place. This fall was a turning point in my life in terms of shopping smarter (and less), and truly understanding what’s worth my money, and really feeling “in control” rather than distracted when I have happened upon a gold-mine of a store. When you’re spending more than $50, it’s worth it when you lovelovelovelovelove it; and it’s super unique; and it has it all when it comes to cost-per-wear, quality, beauty, functionality, etc; and you would buy it if it were a no-label thriftstore find because you love it and picked it out and it fit perfectly anyways but as it happens, the piece you love is MARGIELA AND BALENCIAGA CASHMERE FOR LESS THAN $200– THAT’S WHEN IT’S WORTH IT. haha. And when you’re not going into debt to get it and it stays within your life budget, of course : )

Which brings me to Decades.

PART II: DECADES!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

(What I was wearing when the shopping began, before trying on the store)

I had always heard about Decades. Not sure how or when or where, but when you’re obsessed with two things: fashion, and LA, you kind of just hear about Decades. I had long assumed it would be a super-cool place to look. That’s the operative word— look. I knew all about its story; it’s super famous for having incredible vintage…Chanel, Alaia, Prada, and I just unconsciously assumed it was a place I’d have fun viewing because nothing in it would ever be attainable. I thought it would be like browsing a costume store. It’s on Melrose Avenue, it’s world-famous, there’s no way that the prices aren’t jacked up and everything in it isn’t upwards of 1 grand (was my thought process). It had been on my list of places to “stop in” for 2 years, literally in the same category as a museum like Getty or MOCA, along the lines of “I will enjoy staring at 1970’s Chanel necklaces through a glass case, for fun, for 30 minutes or so.” But I had no i-d-e-a what it was actually like.

(Trying on a gorge Derek Lam sweater that I bought)

With essentially one price-tag check in a new store, you have a sense of what the store is like. And, I was completely astonished to discover that Decades was the most amazingly priced store I had ever walked into. When I walked in, I went straight to the shoe section. I picked up some INCREDIBLE shoes—Burberry platforms that I’d seen on the runway and in magazines priced at $170; another pair of Burberry shoes for $200 (that I WISH had fit me). Sergio Rossi hot pink suede platform shoes (they were straight off of Jessica Rabbit and too amazing for words) for $200; Fendi platforms for $200; gorrrrrgeous Givenchy sandals for $120. Every single shoe that I liked and would have bought, was between $120 and $200. Which is what a new shoe from Steve Madden or Nordstrom or anywhere costs, and they’re not AMAZING. GORGEOUS. ITALIAN. UNIQUE. WORK-OF-ART GENIUS-DESIGNED SHOES. There were some shoes less than $100 too. So right off the bat, from the shoe section, I was feeling REALLY surprised by how just like……reasonable and normal this place seemed. I almost felt grateful. I was like, so impressed at the selection and so impressed at the pricing. It comes down to the selection more than anything. The people who work there are CLEARLY absolutely brilliant at what they do. They get BUCKETS of consignments every single day from women all over LA, and their eye and taste is incredible. They select the VERY most incredible pieces and nothing else, so the entire store is just the best of the best of the best, for INSANE prices!!! I’ve never been so surprised by a store. Ever. I kept telling the manager, almost stuttering, “I’m just…I’m so…IMPRESSED.” I’m so impressed that….you don’t seem like you’re trying to fleece the American public.

I tried on a pair of silver-sparkle Lanvin ballet flats that stole my heart so fucking hard, and put them off to the side to see if I found anything else I wanted to buy more than I wanted to buy them. All I’ve ever wanted is a pair of Lanvin ballet flats and they retail at $595 (the glitter/special ones). These looked brand new…so GORGEOUS..and they were $200. I was imagining how cute and chic they would look with light-wash skinny jeans, a slouchy wrap sweater, or black leggings, for a plane ride/every day of my life.

Then I started looking at the bags. There was a crazy stunning suede YSL bag for $700 ^^^ and the manager sweetly and casually told me “we could do less though.” And that surprised me MAJORLY. I really truly expected the prices to be rude; and the staff to basically be a-holes. Like….”we’re so well-known, our prices are fixed, don’t try to negotiate, it’s not happening, take it or leave it, we don’t DO that.” That was how I was imagining a place that’s as well-known as Decades. I was imagining they’d be the kind of place that would LAUGH at the idea of negotiation or ‘going down’ on a price. I literally assumed it was something that would be out of the realm of their world, and yet I’m there looking at prices you see at BANANA REPUBLIC FOR A PAIR OF WORK CHINOS; and the staff is totally chill. It’s California; of COURSE they are.

Like these LOSER Banana Republic “Martin Fit Navy Lightweight Wool Slim Ankle Pant” that are $98.00:

Kill yourself, Martin Ankle Pant. Because there were a million AMAZING things that price; LESS than that price; and barely more than that price at Decades that were ACTUALLY AMAZING AND NOT OVERPRICED LAME SLACKS. LIKE SLICK, TAILORED, CROPPED PRADA PANTS. Hmm: vintage prada, or the Banana Republic MARTIN FIT. Oh gee I’m not sure how I’d rather spend a hundred dollars. Can you help me decide? NOT.

Then……………………………scrolling through the clothing began. And that’s when my mind was actually blown. BLOWN. Literally I no longer have a brain. I picked up the COZIEST COOOOOZZZZIEST, chunky, cream-colored, knit, Margiela wrap sweater (it was giant—like it would have kept you warm in Switzerland), and it was $175. All I could think was……’ a new JOIE sweater at Cusp costs $325.’

Like this “Celia” Cowl Neck Sweater for $288.

HAHAHAHAHHAHA okay, yaaaaaaa, sure Joie, I’m going to spend $300 dollars on a SHORT SLEEVED cowl-neck sweater??? are you fucking kidding me right now??? SPEND H-A-L-F THAT ON A BETTER, MORE AWESOME MARGIELA SWEATER THAT’S BETTER MADE AND WARMER AND MORE AWESOME? WHY DOES THE ENTIRE WORLD NOT SHOP AT DECADES? GET ALL YOUR SWEATERS THERE.

This boring-ass grey Joie sweater is $338. haha I’m literally laughing out loud. Mmmmmk sure Joie, that’s happening. AND I LOVE THE BRAND JOIE.

A J.Crew cashmere waffle sweater is $248:

WE’RE TALKING ABOUT MARGIELA!!!!!

Most vintage/second-hand stores that carry THE BIGGEST NAMES there are (especially stores that are FAMOUS and written-up in magazines) have outrageous prices that just make you sad. I’ve gone into so many vintage stores in New York and seriously the same pieces are $750 and $1100 and $935. You see Chanel tags and Fendi tags and it’s more expensive than your rent check and you’re like, ugh what’s the point of this. I’ve only ever been disappointed. NO-NAME vintage is one thing (you’ll get awesome pieces for $3 to $20 dollars), but DESIGNER vintage is usually absurdly priced. But at Decades, as I flicked piece after piece across the rack, every piece that caught my eye ran from $110 to $250. AMAAAAAAAAAAAZING, collector-item, UNREAL, I’m-hyperventilating Prada and Isabel Marant and Rick Owens and Margiela pieces were priced at the cost of a pair of Steve Madden shoes.

Like the Steve Madden Tarnney boot for a casual $149.50.

I mean it was mind-blowing. Literally………I had just spent an hour in Fred Segal, which had the same brands that stores like Cusp and Nordstrom have–Joie, White and Warren, Vince, Theory, etc. (plus some higher-end ones)–and every NEW sweater from those brands is 300 HUNDRED DOLLARS. Cashmere or not. Sweaters anywhere are kind of just expensive. Unless they’re cheap acrylic from China, obviously. And here I’m looking at BEAUTIFUL, stylish, super fucking cute BALENCIAGA SWEATERS, priced at $160.00 EVERY SWEATER I LIKED HAD A “1″ IN FRONT OF IT. NOT A 2, NOT A 3, A 1.

THAT.

IS. WHAT.

THE. PRICES. ARE.

AT. NORDSTROM.

OR NORDSTROM. RACK.

OR J. CREW (VOMIT).

OR URBAN OUTFITTERS

OR STEVE MADDEN

A goddamn leather purse at Banana Republic is $200 – $400.00. Like this Celine-wannabe Dianne tote for $250:

A LULU LEMON WORKOUT SWEATER IS $130.00:

A Christmas or New Years Eve dress from ASOS OR TOPSHOP OR ZARA is $100 – $200.

Literally a new fancy dress or coat from TopShop is like $140. (When things aren’t on sale). Like this exact one from TopShop:

Or if not into the 100′s, they hover around 100. Like this blah LACE DRESS– the same one you’ve seen at Asos and H&M and Forever 21 and EVERYWHERE– for $96.00 AT TOPSHOP. Cheap, made in China, one-hundred-dollars:

OR, YOU COULD GET AN ISABEL MARANT PAIR OF PANTS AT DECADES. YOUR CHOICE.

The point I’m making here, is that the prices on 90% of what I liked and would have bought at Decades were the same NUMBERS that I see when I’m browsing any old lame department store (where J.Brand jeans are $200 each, and Dolce Vita shoes are $150 a pair), and what I’m see when I’m at what is purportedly a discount store. Half the shit AT discount stores like The Rack or Loehman’s is $100- $200 or MORE!! The good shoes at Zara (before they go on sale) are LITERALLY $149.99. ZARA. Do you know what it’s like to fall in love with a Rick Owens, or Balenciaga cashmere sweater, and see a $140 price tag?? IT’S LIKE DYING. IS WHAT IT’S LIKE.

Zara Leopard Ankle Boot, $159.99.

So that’s what shopping at Decades was like. Seeing prices you’ve seen at Zara, except you’re holding Italian hand-knit cashmere sweaters in your hand and silently weeping.

No sticker shock. Just…..numbers I’m USED to seeing. So it’s not that I ever pay $159.99 for a Zara boot (because they ALWAYS go on sale for like $40 and under; and same with Steve Madden, or Joie sweaters– which just end up at TJ Maxx where my mom buys them for $29.99, which is what they SHOULD be/are worth); it’s just that……..the prices were the same, except for MARTIN MARGIELA. AND NOT STEVE MADDEN.

These Rick Owens palazzo pants were exactly $200:

Wanted to get them so bad but wanted other things more.

This gypsy metallic skirt was Isabel Marant for $150:

I tried on these AMAZING knit Prada legging-pants, that were $200.00 Yeah, the same price as a new pair of Citizens of Humanity or Sevens. Except they’re PRADA RIBBED KNIT FLARE LEGGING PANTS. I would have bought them, but they were too big in the crotch area : (

Haha ^^^ kind of an awkward picture. They needed to be smaller and the picture isn’t doing them any favors but had they BEEN a size smaller, THEY WERE AMAZING.

I did pick out two pieces that were $450 – $500, but they were CHANEL ((2 pieces of like 97, might I add. The woman was like, “wow…okay …you’re really going for it here.”) I found the cutest striped nautical long-sweater with HUGE buttons but it’s still……CHANEL FOR $450. A RAG & BONE SWEATER IS $450. AND IT’S NOT VINTAGE CHANEL.

And the cutest striped DRESS (you’ve never seen anything cuter—straight off of Diane Kruger), and it was $500. Obviously I couldn’t spend $500 on one single item, a Chanel dress, but that’s still SO REASONABLY PRICED!! They had racks on racks on racks of Chanel blazers and skirts. Such beautiful pieces. I shrieked audibly as I touched each one. Literally I was flicking through the racks shrieking out loud. IT WAS BEYOND MY CONTROL. I was OOO-ing and AAHHH-ing and gasping out loud—my sheer, unbridled, natural reaction to the edited collection of what was in that store. It was my guttural reaction to the quality and beauty of the pieces. I could NOT believe how amazing the merchandise in that store was; for the prices.

And, this GGGGOOOOORRRGGGEEEE ROBERTO CAVALLI dress for $450. An Alice + Olivia dress at Bloomingdales is $600. It’s a flouncy Roberto Cavalli dress. For $450.

The prices at Decades were I-N-S-A-N-E. ROBERT CAVALLI FLOUNCY FRILL DRESS THAT I SAW IN 40 MAGAZINES, FOR $450. WHAT THE FUCK?!?!?!?!

Also they had a lot of beautiful leather pieces from The Row.

I narrowed my final purchases down to 4 sweaters and the Lanvin flats.

The sweaters were absolute no-brainers. I need sweaters, I have no cute winter clothes (because I pretend winter doesn’t exist), they were the cutest things I’ve ever seen, so versatile, so practical, will wear with any/everything, amazing quality, warm, cashmere, unique, and cheap. I tried on a lot of pieces that were SUPER fun or cool and super inexpensive, but they just weren’t wardrobe staples. Unless the piece costs less than a 20-dollar bill, I’m really only into buying staples—things I can wear any day of any week with anything—not things that have to be reserved for some some special event, like an organza tutu or something. I like buying things I can truly wear. “Everyday.” That’s why I bought ballet flats and not hot-pink Jessica Rabbit pumps, in the end. Because the best purchases I’ve ever made are the things I wear on repeat day after day. I’m pretty basic and about functionality when it comes down to it.

So here is a rundown of the sweaters. Get to know them, because you’re going to be seeing A LOT OF THEM.

SWEATER 1: Grey, cashmere, v-neck, pullover Balenciaga with a funky zig-zag tangerine-colored pattern that is stitched on

Features: It’s the softest, most comfortable and warm thing in the world. The fit is sexy. The shoulders do this awesome ruching thing. It’s visually interesting. IT’S THE BEST FUCKING THING EVER. And sooooooooooooooooooo cozy/comfy. Each time I’ve worn it, strangers have noticed it.

When wearing the Balenciaga (which I was in lOVE with) in the store, Alex (who came by for the last 10 minutes before closing) noticed a teeeency-weency hole on the right sleeve. I showed it to them and the manager instantly dropped it from $160 to $80!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Do you think I give a fuck about a microscopic hole that no one but Alex will ever see? The answer is, I DON’T. PUT MORE HOLES IN IT AND DROP THAT PRICE BITCH, I DON’T CARE.

I’ve worn it 3 x since we got back a week ago.

SWEATER 2: Black, open-front, long, drapey, psuedo-pleated, cashmere Margiela for $100:

(Alex helping me to assess)

Features: fuck outta here. It’s margiela. But I don’t like things based on knowing what label they are first. My process is pretty simple: look through racks and try on what I see that I like. I fell in love with before ever even noticing that the interior tag casually said “Martin Margiela,” at which point I choked. It looks cute with just a simple white tank, or closed, or WHATEVER. Closed, it almost looks dress-like.

But my favorite part is how chill it is, with its drapes. I’ve been wearing it as a top-layer over other sweaters, and it just chills. Hangs out. It’s a chill sweater. I’ve been wearing it OVER the Balenciaga:

My dear chic friend Katherine ran into me at Tryst and loved the sweaters so much (she was the involuntary stroker), that she demanded that I stand right there in the middle of the coffee shop and pose for her instagram (I obliged, kicking and screaming. haha yeah right):

(Sidenote, Katherine has the baddest style in the world. Like chick is BAD)–

My personal fave of hers– theee ole bustier-under-the-blazer-with-the-high-wasted-trouser look. Except she rocks MJ loafers which I can’t pull off:

Back to sweaters.

SWEATER 3: A heavy-knit, button-up Derek Lam cardi whose thread is glittery gold, for $170 and fit me like a goddamn glove:

^^^come ON with how cute that is!!!!!!!!!!!!!^^^

I’ve ALSO been wearing that one layered under the Margiela, like so:

Features: It’s glittery gold thread. Bitch please.

SWEATER 4: A soft, cashmere, heather grey, Halston Heritage v-neck cardigan that is splattered in SPARKLY APPLIQUE HEARTS, which are made of PURPLE, RED, AND GOLD SEQUINS.

^^^ duck face^^^

Features: Don’t. It has sparkle-hearts and is grey cashmere. Just don’t.

And I’ve ALSO worn it like every day since we got back

Sooooo that’s that. Alex bought me the sweaters as my Christmas present. He was going to get me like 3 months of blowouts at Dry Bar, but waited because he knew I’d find something I really really wanted in LA and wanted to give me the option to pick whatever I’d found, or dry bar. I picked the sweaters.

And I treated myself to the Lanvin ballet flats. LANVIN!!!!! GLITTER!!! BALLET FLATS!!! They have leather black trim that sometimes looks navy blue and it kills me. (good kill). Ugh they are MAGICAL. I was SKIPPING gleefuly out of that store. I’ve never had a better shopping experience. I literally would ONLY shop at Decades if I lived in LA. Nothing in my wardrobe would EVER not be from there. MARGIELA. DEREK LAM. BALENCIAGA. LANVIN. FOR UNDER $200.00 EACH. WHAT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Why would I ever go anywhere else? Why would anyone ever shop at a department store or anywhere when you can get LEGIT Martin Margiela for $150? I DON’T UNDERSTAND THEIR PRICES. I WANT TO CRY.

NEEDLESS TO SAY, I spent from 4 to 6 in the store, and was NOT ready to go at 6. But everything closed at 6. I had been intending to go to Reformation, the HUGE (GIANT) Marc by Marc Jacobs store (where everything would have been the same price except not vintage Prada), the Kelly Wearstler store, and all the other stores on Melrose, but it would have been a complete waste of time because Decades is a kingdom of heaven and everything else is an embarrassment to life.

A better selection of clothing does not exist on this earth; so if you enjoy clothing as much as I do, and don’t want to pay more than $170 for an amazing sweater from a designer who would otherwise cost you more than a down payment on a house, go to Decades. A casual pair of tie-dyed Isabel Marant pants was $150. UN. REAL. UNREAL.

*I should have bought those fucking palazzos. God damn it.

**I’ll never get over it. It’s the new Alexander Wang dress from Ina that I left behind. I need those pants. God. damn. it. THEY’RE SO ME.

#FML

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Filed under Fashion, Shopping, Travel

January 3, 2013 · 1:23 am

A Day in LA

Waiting for breakfast outside of Blu Jam, in sunny LA, with my Mickey sweatshirt

On our last day in California, we ‘checked out’ of our rental house Friday morning to spend the whole day/evening in LA. My plan was to get my hair done by Denis (my main man) (about a 3 hour process), while Alex and his parents went to The Getty. I made the appointment for 12 noon, since it’s a 2 hour drive from Palm Springs, so we figured it would be perfect to hit the road at 8, get in around 10, grab breakfast together, and then drop me off at the salon while he met his parents at The Getty (we had our own rental car).

We thought LONG and hard about where we wanted to spend our only free-choice breakfast in LA, and decided without question to go back to Blu Jam– a place we ate on our trip in February that was INCREDIBLE. I wrote a literal novel on how much I loved Blu Jam in this post. Best french toast ever, best eggs, best drinks, just amazing. I got the same exact french toast, and the best chai latte I’ve ever had. It replaces my two chai latte “bests” from DC (Tryst and Busboys and Poets). Then Alex dropped me off at the Andy Lecompte Salon for my epic hair appointment, and his parents actually met him there so he switched cars and I got to keep the car to go shopping by myself after the hair was done, since it was going to be done sooner than they’d be done at The Getty.

He’s like…..so hot. What a beautiful man. He’s Adam Levine but MORE gorgeous, x a million.

I don’t even have the words for how much I love Denis. He is the greatest/nicest/humblest/sweetest/most generous person, and is a man (the man) who was nominated Top Colorist by Vogue, has been written up in EVERY magazine– Allure, Marie Claire, Harper’s Bazaar, In Style; does major celebrity hair; and is just as down to earth as they COME. He’s a fucking GENIUS at his work and the color he started giving me 3 years ago is a part of my identity and self esteem (as I wrote about in THIS fun little personal story I got to publish for Refinery). He is the reason that I feel pretty when I feel pretty. I look at my hair in the mirror and I’m like “omfgjesusfuckingchrist MY HAIR LOOKS SO GOOD.” And I’m not referring to me, I am referring to MY HAIR. The hair’s COLOR. The way it LOOKS. It’s not complimenting me, it’s complimenting DENIS’S WORK. People stop me ALL THE TIME to say how much they love my hair color and I’m like, IT WAS DONE 6 MONTHS AGO BITCH! By a Brazilian god. I don’t know HOW he makes it look so good. And get better WITH time. I’ve had people ask me if I just got it colored and say it looks amazing, when it’s been 14 MONTHS since he last did it. I would marry him if he weren’t gay.

So while we were still in Palm Springs, I stopped into a fun-looking party store and bought a GIANT sparkly bow tie to tie to a bottle of Bollinger champagne to give him (just in time for New Year’s!)

See the champagne/bow-tie in the picture right there at Denis’s station? His assistant Serge was the bomb too. Posed in all my pictures and gave me a sick blowout. I am kind of only 30 percent kidding when I say that my first job when I move to LA will probably be taking Serge’s place as Denis’s assistant. After I go to hair school.

I have as much fun sitting in that chair and getting my hair foiled as I do…. anything that I have the most fun doing. We chat about life and career and goals and men and I drink an iced latte and count down the seconds until the color is revealed. He’s super smart about the world and relationships and humanity. Every time he says something, it’s well-put and poignant, and hysterical and outrageous. He’s a Pisces, what can I say. I wrote him this little note after the hair was done, and and he put it on facebook/instagram alongside another sweet note a client had left him and said: “Notes like this make me love my job more every day. #grateful #love.”

awww I died when I saw that, I thought it was so sweet. I never though that ‘lil note would go anywhere but his pocket and his heart. I got a tag on facebook and was like AWWWWWWWWWW!!!!!!!!!!!!! Talk about #grateful and #love. If you are a guest at my wedding, you will meet Denis. So you have that to look forward to. I’m always like, “Denis……..(really long dramatic pause)…. you’re a celeb.” and in his adorably exotic Brazilian accent he matter-of-factly says, “please. I am not a celebrity at all. I have some CLIENTS who are celebrities. It is they who are famous, not I. I am nothing but someone who loves their work, and works hard to do a good job. Do good work and make yourself and others happy and that’s all you can do in life.” #love

My hair took exxxxactly until 3:00 p.m. Literally at 3:00 ON THE DOT, I was done. I hopped in the car and went straight to….FRED SEGAL! On Melrose. The salon is literally 1 block from some of THE BESTTTTTT shopping. You pass Urth Cafe an then you’re on like the most central strip of Melrose, where the Marc Jacobs and Vivienne Westwood and Mcqueen and Kelly Wearstler and Reformation and a million other stores are. I had never been to Fred Segal even though it had been on my list of places to shop in LA for like 3 years. Interestingly enough, I ran into the most darling Dartmouth girl who I hadn’t seen in 4 years on the plane to LA, and we exchanged numbers, and she texted me the most adorable text, full of enthusiasm and exclamation points and amazing recs. It said: “SO amazing seeing you and hope you + alex have a dreamy time together this week!!!!!!!!!! For pizza, get a reservation at mozza if you can. For sushi, one of the preset things at sugarfish (3 locations). For dessert, please try scoops. and shopping…Fred Segal is a California classic. <3! Merry Christmas!” What a SWEETheart. I love human beings. We weren’t even that close when we were in college, but she was always a ball of sweetness and energy and when I saw her at the airport that day, it felt so natural to give her the biggest hug and feel so happy that I was seeing a face I hadn’t seen for so long. I think it’s a really magical thing about going to a SMALL college. Eventually, (unless they were your enemy), it feels COMFORTING to see a face you used to see even if you barely knew each other, even 5 or 10 years after you graduate. The connection you feel to people you run into randomly…gets even stronger as time goes on….because you lived in the same isolated world for 4 years, and perhaps because they’re like a mirror straight back to a once-version of yourself. Seeing them feels familiar because just the sight of their face is a reminder of a younger, different, far-away-but-familiar version of yourself, with the powerful intoxicant of nostalgia. Their face, reminds you of and transports you to your college you, through rose-colored glasses. I felt like I was hugging an old, old, friend. And it was the cutest most exciting text to have in my back pocket all week as I looked forward to my day in LA.

SO, hit up Fred Segal I did. It was crazy. They just have like……all the best labels under one roof. Some “cheaper” ones like Splendid. Some medium ones like Vince and Rag & Bone and ALC, some hard-to-get-on-the-East-Coast ones like Mother denim, some hard-to-get-anywhere like Paper Crown (Sienna Miller’s sister’s line, that she created after they quit their joint line TwentyEightTwelve), and some INSANELY expensive ones like Carven, and this brand of sweaters that are like, hand-knit in Scottland and the pricetag was literally $4,000.00 for a sweater and I almost spit out the drink I wasn’t drinking. I bought two things—your basic, classic, simple white tank to wear under everything, which I needed. I buy a new white tank about once a year and my old one had bit the dust in terms of absorbing spray tans and getting thread-bare. It was Vince for only $40, which I was surprised by. I will not pay $96 dollars for a white tank top, T by Alexander Wang, sorry. And a pair of lighter-wash cropped-ankle skinny jeans by a brand called “Frame”, that I absolutely fell in love with. They were the wash I had been lacking in my closet and looking for for so long. I have black, dark wash, medium wash, and a million other colors/prints thanks to my ever-growing collection of amazing DL 1961s (oxblood, red, polka dot, green, brown, etc), but not the perfect pair of ALMOST washed-out jeans that weren’t distressed– just simple, clean, crisp, tailored, sexy, chic. Ask my friend Meg– she was with me at threeee different shopping events over the last month (one at South Moon Under; one at Intermix; and one and Wink), and I was just desperately trying to find a pair before we left on California trip. Nobody is selling light-wash this time of year. I’d been looking everywhere. Of course, leave to it LA to have what I’m looking for. I chatted with the store-people at Fred Segal for quite a bit about the line. That’s how I learn the things I do. I always just talk to people, ’cause I’m curious. I said “oh wow, these fit/are INCREDIBLE, what is this line, I’ve never heard of them” and he said “oh, they’re new, they’re based out of London and they exclusively sell them in the US for us at Fred Segal,” and then we talked about Frame for quite a bit, and now I feel very cool and special owning a pair of Frame denim. You know me and my denim. I LOVE NOTHING MORE THAN DENIM. IT’S THE GREATEST INVENTION OF THE WORLD.

Here’s a post from Barney’s blog “introducing” Frame denim to the world, posted as recently as December 3rd 2012, http://thewindow.barneys.com/blue-jeanius-introducing-frame-denim/ so I think they are VERY new. Of course the creator of the line says “we’ve been obsessed by denim for the better part of 15 years,” and of course the blogpost says “we believe you guys– all you need to do is slip on a pair to understand;” because….you can just tell. The MILLISECOND I put them on, a little cartoon version of me in my head cocked its eyebrows in intrigue, because I knew they were something special and new (the exact reaction to/experience I had when I tried on my first ever pair of DL’s). I think I could alternatively be a denim-buyer or like, denim-expert because somehow I just KNOW good denim when it slides up my legs. haha. And DL 1961 and Frame– best denim I’ve ever worn. Which is why I BLOG for DL1961. They offer different things too– Frame only has one cut– the skinny; and DL 1961 has like 7 different amazing styles in a rainbow of colors and prints. But good denim does not have to announce itself to me– my soul knows it when it’s on my body.

^^^ That’s the white tank right thurr — (but not the pants– those are my FLARE light washes. Equally as essential/versatile, but totally different thing). The Frame pair are cropped-ankle skinnies, pictured belooow! I can’t stop wearing them with everything. I’m wearing them now, right now as I type. And I wore them on the plane home from LA. And to see Django Unchained on New Year’s Eve.

Pictured below— New Year’s Eve (for pre-gaming, BEFORE I changed into my sparkle-dress), with my sparkly Halson Heritage heart-applique sweater and sparkly Lanvin flats (INSANE SCORES from Decades, where I went immediately after Fred Segal–more info to come on that. And by info I mean, a 3 page post dedicated to my experience within the store Decades. You don’t even know):

Today (with the same white tank, flats, and Balenciaga cashmere sweater–another Decades score–MOOORE to come):

Airplane ride home from LA back to DC (with Derek Lam and Margiela sweaters from Decades– I can’t even):

hahahaha I couldn’t stop taking pictures. The shopping in LA is sickeningly good. The flats/jeans/sweaters do not come off of me.

Soooo, as you’ve gathered, after snagging the white tank/jeans from Fred Segal I went down the block (literally 1 block) to shop at Decades.

And I can’t go any further, because I have a POST– a dedicated, full, blogpost, to how amazing that store is and everything that I tried on and bought. #MargielaMargielaMargiela. Do you know what my twitter bio is? And my instagram bio? I’LL TELL YOU.

IT’S

“WHAT’S THAT JACKET, MARGIELA?”

^^^ PRESS PLAY^^^

^DO IT^

^SERIOUSLY PRESS PLAY ON THE EMBEDDED VIDEO UP ABOVE. IT’S 5 SECONDS OF YOUR TIME^

Because that’s my favorite line of N***as in Paris. It’s my favorite Kanye line of all time. For the way he says it. And how it sounds. And the idea that Kanye likes/knows of Margiela. And the idea of what it would represent to ask if that jacket’s Margiela. And the idea of him poking fun at himself for the idea that he would/might/probably-has asked someone if their label is Margiela. Or/and the idea that the types of people he hangs out with probably ask HIM if that jacket’s Margiela. And because I love the sounds of the word Margiela. And love when Kanye says it. And because, oh I don’t know, I FUCKING LOVE MARGIELA. MARTIN MARGIELA. MAISON MARTIN MARGIELA. MM6. MY EYEBALLS LIKE THE WAY HIS DESIGNS LOOK. And because the most beautiful shoes I’ve EVER SEEN, THAT TO THIS DAY, I DREAM ABOUT, TURNED OUT TO BE CREAM-COLORED MARGIELA WEDGES ON RACHEL BILSON.

And I bought a Margiela sweater (IT’S PRETTY MUCH A JACKET, FOR ALL INTENTS AND PURPOSES) at Decades for 100 dollars that hasn’t come off of me in 5 days. So that’s why “Decades” and the fun I had in there deserves its own blogpost.

But here is a teaser.

Me, snap-happy. Iphone, mirror, the best clothing in the world, in the best city in the world, after getting my hair done, brand-new blonde color. Sheer. BLISS. Heaven on earth. Boyfriend. Resting his face in his hands. But so patient and helpful when it comes to decision time. FYI he was at the Getty until 10 minutes before Decades closed at which point he showed up to help me pick my purchases : )

(That’s the black Margiela open-front, drapey, slouchy, amazing, black, cashmere, so soft, so cool cardi-jacket. It pleats almost like a dress. More pictures in the next post. They don’t really do it justice. It’s soft and amazingly designed. Today I ran into two friends at Tryst and they were involuntarily petting the Margiela sweater and apologizing for stroking my clothing. Without knowing the sweater’s backstory. Because that’s what Margiela sweaters make you do– lend out your hand and softly stroke their beauty).

And also the way Alex is looking at me in this photo is the heart-warmingest thing in the world to me. You can baaaarely see it off to the right there, but I know what that look is.

But this instagram shows it a little better:

#love. And most of the time he tried to make the time go faster by inspecting the threads of sweaters. What else to do when you’re in a guy in a girl’s world. Well, you do what Alex does everywhere, which is make the 5 different salespeople at Decades fall in love with him. It was also observed by an astute saleslady that we would make very TALL babies. This is true. And with great fuckin’ hair too. That kid’s hair, I swear. Maybe that’s another reason we’re in love. BOTH of our manes are our IDENTITIES!!! Without our hair, both of us are nothing. If someone shaved my head, I would slowly cripple up and die. Alex says that at the first sign of a receding hairline, he’s putting a ring on it. He says he will propose to me the night he finds that one millimeter of hair has started to recede. Because he’d be unmarketable without his hair (him speaking) and he’ll have to ‘lock it up’ instantly. We are nobody without the manes we have. Alex is Andy Sandburg. We would cease to exist without our hair. I understand our love now. Hair, height, it’s beautiful.

Can you HANDLE how cute that cardi is??? ^^^^^ That CASHMERE CARDI, with MULTI-COLORED GLITTERY H-E-A-R-T-S ALL OVER IT??? IN PURPLE, RED, AND GOLD??????? WHAT?? THEY ARE GLITTERY. FUCKING. HEARTS. ON A GREY SWEATER. THAT IS COZY. AND CUTE. AND HAS A SLIGHTLY-DEEP V-NECK IN A SUPER-SUBTLY WAY. AND IS CASHMERE. AND FITS LIKE A GLOVE. WHAT KIND OF A MONSTER CONSIGNS A SWEATER LIKE THIS?????????? WHAT KIND OF A SICK FUCK ELIMINATES THIS FROM THEIR CLOSET AND TAKES IT TO A STORE TO BE A SOLD FOR A FRACTION OF ITS WORTH SO THAT A CARPETBAGGER LIKE MYSELF CAN ABSCOND WITH IT? What kind of a SOCIAL DEVIANT says, “meh, you know what world: I think I DON’T want this grey, cashmere, multi-colored sparkly heart applique cardigan. I think I’ll just DUMP it at the nearest upscale, high-end consignment store for some poor loser to give it a second life?” Sorry, sorry, getting ahead of myself- this is reserved for the Decades post.

SO, after spending the ENTIRE rest of the afternoon at Decades, Alex and I departed and headed straight to downtown LA to meet my bfffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffff( x 20 more f’s) at Baco Mercat. I’d heard as much about this restaurant as the world heard about Monica Lewinsky in 1998. I’d read about it on at least 4 blogs, and of course, my EVER-SAVVY, ever-hip friend Whitney said “how about Baco Mercat–you’d love it!” when I asked her to tell me where we should eat on Friday. Natttturally. There is no friend of mine on earth who has more identical sensibilities in terms of what we like to do, where we like to eat, what atmosphere we like, what crowds/types of people we like, where we like to go, how we like to spend our days, our goals, our values, etc. That’s why getting matched-up with her RANDOMLY as a roommate when I studied abroad in Barcelona was one of the single greatest blessings I’ve ever received.

I was all bundled up in my new sweaters and denim and flats, and we sat outside, in perfectly crisp weather next to heat lamps, and ordered 4 delicious dishes (it’s a small-plate restaurant where the table orders a few small dishes to share). Per Whit’s recommendation, the ceaaser brussel sprouts were THE BEST THING EVER. They SHRED the brussel sprouts like a cole slaw, and then make them taste like ceaser salad. Amazing. AND THEY’RE SERVED WARM. not cold. ugh so good.

So she and I and Alex all chatted and drank and ate and expressed our undying love for each other, as happens every time Whitney and I are together, and she gave me the SWEETEST. CHRISTMAS. PRESENT. OF. ALL. TIME. EVER. EVER!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

The thickest, coziest, warmest, tribal-print sweater in shades of salmon pink, navy blue, and white.

LOOK AT IT!!!!!!!!!!!!

Wearing it that night:

And a beautiful silver bracelet that she picked up this year in Cabo–where we had the best trip EVER when I went with her and her fam in 2009, because she REMEMBERED that when I was there 3 years ago, I bought a handful of silver bracelets off the men on the beach and she wanted me to add this to the collection. I meeaaannnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn. #LOVE. I am not sure how to match and/or out-do her on this gift.

Then Alex and I drove allll the way to our airport hotel and nearly died 11 times on the way there (holy. shit. driving. in. LA. is. scary. THOSE FREEWAYS!! OH MY), snuggled in bed and I jumped up and down on the bed squealing with delight at what a great day it had been, seeing friends like Denis and Whitney, having such awesome experiences at Fred Segal and Decades, fresh color and blowout, a meal at Blu Jam, dinner downtown….a magical day indeed. OH, AND, Shooter McGavin from Happy Gilmore walked RIGHT by our table at Baco!!! Just walked on by. Like his thigh was one millimeter from our table. Haha I LOVE seeing celebrities no matter how A, B, C, OR, Z-list they are or once were. Love it. Seeing them in their natural habitat, just like literally walking down a sidewalk in downtown LA on their way to god knows where, is always surreal. No matter who it is.

NEXT POST—————

ALL ABOUT DECADES!!! AND ONE MILLION SELFIES OF EVERYTHING I TRIED ON AT DECADES!!! CAN YOU EVEN CONTAIN YOUR EXCITEMENT?!?! haha #immakingfunofmyself

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Filed under Fashion, Travel

January 2, 2013 · 4:34 pm

Palm Springs Itinerary (Days 5 & 6)

DAY FIVE–WEDNESDAY

On Wednesday we woke up early again (like pretty much 6:30 every morning we were there), and Alex made us all ham, egg, & cheese sandwiches with the leftover ham from our Christmas dinner.

We got dressed for a hike at Indian Canyon (the hike his parents did on Sunday while we lounged by the pool), except it was pouring rain JUST over the mountain. Like nowhere else. So we were advised by the mountain-lady to NOT try the hike since it was supposed to rain all day. There was a pretty rainbow though!

So instead, we parked and drove around the Movie Colony– a part of town where all the big stars in the day used to live, like Cary Grant, Tony Curtis & Janet Leigh, and others.

The houses in the movie colony were gorgeous. We didn’t do any tour or have any kind of a guide with us, so we had no idea whose house was where; we just wanted to see what the neighborhood looked like in general. As we were strolling aimlessly, Alex spotted an impressive gate with the letters “C G” on it, and instantly pointed out that it HAD to be Cary Grant’s house because nobody else just has a random “C G” on their gate, which we all freeeaked out about, and then found a plaque that validated it. Such movie dorks.

After our lovely walk, we came home and got changed out of our failed-attempt-exercise-clothes for lunch in Palm Desert with the same family members we’d shared Christmas with. Palm Desert is like Palm Springs except..30 minutes away, and a little more desert-like/less green (except for the golf course). The Betty Ford Clinic is on the way. It’s REALLY visually impressive, same as Palm Springs.

We ate at the ‘club’ of the resort community they were staying in..like the restaurant on the golf course. It was an utterly insane view of the mountains. It reminded me of Hanover/Norwich. And a hummingbird joined our lunch (above). And there were road runners everywhere!! As in the… cartoon. THEY EXIST. AND THEY RUN ACROSS THE ROAD. THAT’S HOW I SAW MY FIRST ONE. And they have mohawk-like tails. I stalked this one for no less than 25 minutes to get a picture.

From there we drove to El Paseo– which is basically Palm Desert’s Rodeo Drive area.

Then we had a few hours of down time back at the casa, and ordered takeout pizza from a place we’d read about in GQ called Birba. It was sooooooooooooo good.

Wednesday was definitely our low-key-est day of all. The rain deterred our hike, we did some slow-paced shopping, and had dinner in sweatpants and watched a movie. Which was all fine and good– because our plan for Thursday was to be at a restaurant called Cheeky’s (supposedly INCREDIBLE food), by 7:30 a.m. the next morning and then do the hike we we were supposed to have done if it hadn’t been raining. We’d driven by Cheeky’s earlier and you would have thought it was a movie premier with how many people were standing outside waiting. At every hour of the day that the place is open (8 am to 2 pm) there are 30 people waiting to be seated because the food is supposed to be that good. I’d read that in several places online too…that it’s kind of famous for the wait. So we planned to be there early.

DAY FIVE–THURSDAY

AS planned, we got to Cheeky’s before it even opened and guess what? The entire restaurant inside was already full! And we were 3rd in line to be seated outside! CRAZY.

But god DAMN the food was good. I got blueberry waffles with lemon curd, Alex’s mom got corn-and-blueberry pancakes, and he and his dad got egg dishes. It’s all organic and local.

Then we headed straight for Indian Canyons, for the MOST gorgeous hikes I’ve ever done in my entire life. We did two different ones, and the landscape and views as we hiked was just downright insane.

DSCN0803

You hike THROUGH and then around this like…palm oasis section, and then wind around the mountain and end up looking down ton to the tops of the palm trees that you just walked through.

And as you got higher, you’re just on eye-level with snow-capped mountains everywhere:

And from the top, you could see the whole town of Palm Springs down below, including the windmills!

It was indeed the loveliest hike of my life.

When we got back to the house, we changed into bathing suits and got one last 3-hour bout of sun by the pool. We ate lunch out there– leftovers from our Birba pizza binge, and a big green salad with fresh citrus from the tress on the property. What a life.

At 6:30, we met the extended fam (the 3 daughters had already departed, but the parents) at El Mirasol- a very well-known Mexican joint in town. I’d say Cheeky’s and El Mirasol are probably the 2 most well-known food spots in town (that aren’t super swanky…there’s a whole other list for swanky spots).

(Worst picture of me ever, but oh well, you see the drink in its glory)

And here my friends……I had……the single…greatest….pina colada….that the world has ever seen. It was the most delicious thing I’ve ever tasted. Alex ordered it for me, and said the Mexican guy making it looked confused, angry, hurt, disturbed, and sad when Alex asked him if they made the drink with a “mix.” (like a pre-made powder– which he asked, because fake pina colada mix makes me want to die). He said he watched him make it, and the guy literally like, picked a fresh coconut off of a mini coconut tree growing in soil at the bar, and chopped fresh pineapple and, like suction-cupped the juice out, and used some secret state-of-the-art-blender with like house-made jars of essential oils, and abra-cadabra-ed it all into the most magical liquid a human has ever made…haha Alex came back from the bar and handed me the drink and was like “I don’t know what just happened.” It was the best mother-fucking drink I’ve ever had in my life. I drank EVERY. DROP. OF. LIQUID. and it was the biggest cup ever too. If you ever find yourself in Palm Springs…..you must. Everyone we were with took a sip and concurred it was criminal how good it was.

We had such a great time at our final dinner. We were all schwasted. Literally schwasted. Because they give you drinks THE SIZE OF A HUMAN HEAD. And they TASTE GOOD. So you drink them to the last drop. And then you’re blacked out. And then came home and packed for the road to LA the next morning (where we would spend the full day, before sleeping at an airport hotel Friday night for our Saturday a.m. flight).

Our time in Palm Springs was incredible, and I’m certain that it will be a tradition in my life going forward. When I have my own family, I’ll be taking my kids to Palm Springs at Christmas; renting a house; going to Le Vallauris; taking a walk past Cary Grant’s house; hiking Joshua Tree on Christmas day, exploring the grounds of The Parker, picking fresh citrus off of a tree, and spending time at a pool at the base of the mountains. I couldn’t imagine a better place to have spent the holiday. I am a huge sucker for wintry places (in small doses)–white Christmases, and sledding and snow and fireplaces, etcetera, but there is something magical about Palm Springs at Christmas. It didn’t matter that our backdrop was tropical…Palm Trees and mountains, it still felt just as festive and special. It was still crisp, there were still fairy lights twinkling everywhere, and the whole town exudes its Hollywood history, so it kind of has a glamorous Christmasy feel inherently. Hard to explain. Like….the ghosts of dapper men in black turtlenecks drinking scotch while bossa nova tunes play, …Sammy Davis Jr., Sinatra, red-lipped starlets, are everywhere. You just kind of feel the glamor of its past all over the whole town. The thought of another holiday in Palm Springs is enough to get me through even the most miserable of winters.

Palm Springs Itinerary (Day 3 & 4 of our Christmas trip)

Hi, 1962, it’s nice to see you. I’VE MISSED YOU SO.

DAY THREE–MONDAY–CHRISTMAS EVE

Monday morning was Christmas Eve, and it felt INCREDIBLE to wake up to crisp air, streaming sunshine, and the sight of those magnificent mountains.

Alex’s parents were off on a walk, so we snuck out of the house to grab breakfast at a place Alex had found called Sherman’s. It was your CLASSIC New York Jewish deli. We tried to go to Cheeky’s (which I’d heard MANY a good thing about), but Cheeky’s was closed. And god bless Sherman’s for being open on Christmas Eve. The food was fan-fucking-tastic. It’s apparently pretty famous, and there is the original one in Manhattan. I got ABSURD french toast, and Alex got eggs. haha. We also picked up lox for our Christmas breakfast the next day– bagels and lox. He and his parents always have bagel/cream-cheese/lox for Christmas Day breakfast. And thennnnnn we got Coffee Bean and Tea Leaf, obvs.

We came home, and hung out at the pool until lunch time. After exploring the Viceroy on Sunday evening, we knew his parents had to see it before the trip was over, so we decided to make a reservation for 12:30 lunch to eat at the Viceroy hotel’s very famous restaurant, Citron, for the next day (christmas eve). And uh, WOULD’JA LOOK AT THE VICEROY. JUST LOOK AT IT. QUITE the backdrop for your Christmas eve lunch.

Can you even?

They had absolutely DELICIOUS drinks. I got a pineapple mojito, and fish tacos. Actually me, and Alex, and his mom, all got the same fish tacos. You kind of have to get fish tacos if you’re in Southern California. Alex and I snuck inside when our food had been cleared and split the check for his parents. Jesus it’s the LEAST we could ever do to thank them for such a trip that we’d never be able to have done ourselves.

After lunch, we explored the grounds. His adorbs parents:

And then took a drive through one of the most mid-century neighborhoods. And I snapped these photos:

I wore this to our xmas eve lunch:

The trip reaffirmed my obsession with the color combination of turquoise, pink, and poppy.

After the drive, we went back to the house and hung out at the pool for about 30 minutes until the sun went down:

After some down time inside, we changed and decided to go explore the grounds of The Parker hotel.

I am going to do a SEPARATE post with *just* photos from The Parker because it was truly one of the most incredible places I’ve ever been. It was SO. COOL. IT WAS INSANE. The interior is designed by Jonathan Adler and the grounds are NUTS. So green, so lush, NEVER-ENDING, totally maze-like.

I *literally* felt like Alice in Wonderland. These huge, tall, hedges…I felt like I would turn a corner and find a magical rabbit in a top hat, or something even whacker. It totally inspires fancy. A fairytale wonderland. I would honeymoon there, straight up.

When we got back, it was time to get ready for Christmas!!

It just so happened, which we found out in August at Alex’s family reunion in Hyannisport, that his dad’s cousin’s family was going to be in Palm Springs at Christmas too– and they just so happen to be 3. CUTE. GIRLS OUR AGE. Like 3 really cute, really awesome, 20-something girls. One of them is East Coast-y, went to Middlebury and is a doctor in Rhode Island and super adorbs; another one of them is a super-cute opera singer (amazing) who lives in Santa Barbara, and the other one (Alex and my’s age exactly) is an actress in LA and we have *about* everything in common. And she brought her boyfriend who is from London and so fun and the 4 of us (me, Alex, Molly, and Patrick) are probably getting a house together for Coachella. I’d already bonded with them all at the reunion, so I’d been really looking forward to seeing them in California over the holiday. So our plan was for them to come over to our rental house and all do a Yankee swap (where you draw a number, and pick in chronological order and then as each progressive person picks their present, the person with the better number can swap their present for something they like better). Their mom (who is Alex’s dads FIRST cousin– his mother’s sister’s daughter), cooked all the food (ham, cheesy potatoes, jello salad– very southern and very 1950′s, so it was perfect), and brought it to the house. We had drinks, ate, and then did the swap. I ended up with a $30 gift-card to Nordstrom (thanks Molly, hah), and Alex ended up with a rad cocktail shaker, and Colleen (the opera-singer) went home with what I’d given– THE CUTEST GOLD & SILVER FLYING PIGGY BANKS. I wanted them (and had the priority number to take them back) but wanted Nordstrom money more. What did I say about me and Molly having the same frame of mind.

It was SUPER fun having them and I passed out hard that night. Like before the guests had even left. Actually me, Megan (doctor) and Colleen (singer) were all literally asleep on the couch while the rest of the humans continued to drink at the fire pit. Colleen was deathly ill and Megan is a doctor and works basically 22 hour days every day. And I am a 90 year old man with fibromyalgia.

DAY FOUR–TUESDAY–CHRISTMAS!!!

Woke up Tuesday and had bagels with cream cheese and lox.

Then we drove to Shermans (where we’d eaten the lox from, and which was ALSO open on Christmas day– Jewish deli–go figure), and picked up 4 delicious deli sandwiches, because our plan was to drive to Joshua Tree and picnic out there! Stopped by Rite Aid for coolers + ice, and were on our merry way to Joshua Tree, where my dad used to camp in the’70′s. He’s always told me grand tales of his California camping. We’re so the same and yet so different, because murder me before I’d camp. A story I wrote about him here).

Joshua Tree was crazy. Just like…..outer-space. The landscape was so WEIRD. Alex and I were both like….the writers/directors of movies like Alien drove to Joshua Tree for inspiration. Super cinematic. (**And as a cool post-script 48 hours after I drafted this post, Alex and I went to see Tarrantino’s latest flick Django Unchained, and the MINUTE the film opened, we spotted the identical landscape we’d hiked a few days earlier and were like HE FUCKING FILMED THAT IN JOSHUA TREE!!!!! I looked it up when we left the movie, and sure enough, the whole opening scene was filmed there. It was really crazy because we’d JUST BEEN SAYING that the landscape was so nuts and that so many movies must have been shot there, and then see a brand-new film with that familiar landscape as the backdrop).

We climbed a very tall mountain and earned our lunch that day (view from almost the top):

His parents:

Descending like a pro:

Sidenote– the drive TO Joshua Tree was also really cool and fun…mega-small towns.

When we’d finished our crazy hike, we parked at the camp site and ate our picnic lunch in the car (it. was. freezing), and then drove back to Palm Springs. Before heading to the house, we demanded that the car stop at Coffee Bean & Tea Leaf. YES. IT IS THE GREATEST COFFEE IN THE FUCKING WORLD, SO YOU’D GET IT EVERY DAY IF YOU WERE ONLY IN CALIFORNIA FOR A WEEK TOO. This time I got a hot chocolate. And it was the best hot chocolate Ive ever had.

Thennnnnnnn we had down time, changed, and went to our Christmas dinner reservation, with the family we’d done Christmas Eve with (I didn’t get the red lip memo….)

It was a restaurant that was called Le Vellauris, and it was so FANTASTICALLY perfect I couldn’t capture it if I tried.

It was OUT of 1962. You walked in, and you just felt a Rat Pack vibe. There was a piano singer who was like Sinatra, and singing amazing, jazzy, Christmas tunes. Like Frosty the Snowman, except it sounded like “New York New York.” It was just dripping with swank. Palm Springs swank. Twinkly christmas lights, drunk rich old people everywhere, jazzy piano singer, and SO AUTHENTIC. That’s the thing about authenticity. It’s hard to describe why something is authentic because almost the very thing that MAKES it authentic is the inability to capture why it is that way. An elusive something. Theeee old je nais sais quo. It was perfection. If I had dreamed of a more perfect place to spend Christmas dinner, I couldn’t have. And it was outside, under the stars, under these gorgeous fairytale winding trees with clusters of white lights, and heat lamps, and incredible food. We had a blast. I want my Christmas dinner to be there every Christmas for every year for ever. A MUST-go if you’re ever in PS.

And that was that!!

Next up– days 5 and 6! And then Day 7, which was spent in LA and which gets its OWN post.

Christmas in Palm Springs Itinerary (Days 1 and 2)

DAY ONE IN PALM SPRINGS–SATURDAY

Day 1 of our vacation to Palm Springs started out like this:

We woke up at 6:30, were on our way to the airport at 7, got there at 7:30, and our flight took off at 9. We flew Alaska and nothing has ever gone smoother. Best travel experience of my life to date. I packed lots of bright colors and tribal prints, which is fully the way to go in flamboyant Palm Springs.

The day before the trip, Friday, I got my hair did at Dry Bar, FREE with the use of a secret santa gift that my bff Ellie had gotten me. There is no more perfect gift a human can give me than a blow out. I got beachy mermaid waves for California. Oh I wish my hair looked like this every day. I also got a spray tan from an old Groupon, and a bikini wax. I don’t get mani/pedis anymore after a pedi-gone-wrong nearly took my big toe. Whatevs, more money in my pocket. It’s really nice to have a day before you go on vacation to get all your little beauty things done– hair, bikini, spray tan; and wrap up errands– picking up travel containers for your liquids, filling prescriptions (hello xanax my old friend– can’t fly without one, will die of panic); finish up a ‘lil x-mas shopping, and then packing. I love the fun rush of the day before a trip.

So back to Saturday, we landed at LAX at 1 p.m., and got our rental car. We needed lunch and had decided it was a giant DUH to eat in LA before our 2 hour drive to the desert.

I chose Little Doms, because it’s the Los Feliz restaurant I’ve always wanted to go to (I’ve eaten at Alcove, Mustard Seed, and Figaro multiple times each), and by “los feliz restaurant i’ve always wanted to go to” I mean, “los feliz restaurant that Rachel Bilson eats at that I’ve always wanted to go to.” She lives in Los Feliz and eats at those 4 restaurants PRETTY much constantly. Actually every time I read JustJared, a celebrity is at one of the 4 places. Just 2 weeks ago, JON HAM ate at Figaro on a break from shooting Mad Men. Jon Ham. Don Draper. Charlize Theron, Megan Fox, Olivia Wilde + Jason Sedakis, Alexander Skarsgard— they’re all always at Little Doms or Alcove or Mustard Seed or Figaro. Which I know from JustJared.

But before eating at Little Doms, we stopped off at the Coffee Bean & Tea Leaf across the street. That specific location of Coffee Bean & Tea Leaf, on Hillhurst Ave, has a special place in my heart because it was the exact location where I lost my Coffee Bean & Tea Leaf virginity when I was in LA for the first time with Whitney. I really like the shopping on Hillhurst Ave too (you can read about our previous trip to LA and shopping on Hillhurst Ave/eating at Figaro here and here). So we got an iced coffee, downed it in about 2 seconds, and then ate lunch at Little Doms.

I got the blueberry ricotta pancakes and they were the SINGLE best pancakes I’ve ever eaten. Nothing comes close. Nothing. Not one pancake. It’s an actual embarrassment how many pancakes from different restaurants I have to base this title off of. I might as well be a restaurant reviewer with how much I brunch/eat out. And these win best. pancakes. E.V.E.R. Trust me.

Then we hit the road.

As you get closer and closer to Palm Springs, the scenery starts to look like this:

Snow capped MOUNTAINS!

It’s totally crazy.

And then you see a shit ton of windmills, and it’s really cool:

And then, as you roll into town, you start to see THIS: (!!!!!)

We got to our rental house/neighborhood, which I ta-da-ed the shit out of in pictures:

After our Coffee Bean & Tea Leaf and Little Doms detour, the time we actually got TO Palm Springs was about 5:00 p.m. We explored the house and the grounds of the rental, unpacked our things, and then went out back to have a pre-dinner drink by the fire pit. His parents had already gone grocery shopping and had picked up a bottle of Franics Ford Coppola’s Director’s Cut Chardonnay, and OH MY that was some good wine. I think you can only get it in California. It was only a $17 dollar bottle but SO good.

#Firepitlife

Then we got dressed and ready for dinner at the Saguaro hotel’s restaurant–Tinto. If you ever go to Palm Springs, you cannot miss The Saguaro. It’s quite central, and famous for it’s rainbow-colored exterior. It was an old Holiday Inn that they converted.

It has a very famous, 5-star restaurant called Tinto, that does Spanish tapas. We each got the tasting menu (it was 7 courses), and it was some of the best food I’ve ever had in my life. This is the only picture I took, of our spicy mussels, lemony french fries, and olives. No picture could have done this food justice.

We came home ROLLING we were so stuffed, watched a ‘lil Miracle on 34th street, and PASSED the F out. Sleeeeep sleep sleep.

DAY TWO IN PALM SPRINGS–SUNDAY

We woke up on Sunday at the CRACK of dawn–part jet-lag, part sun streaming through our windows, part excitement. The 4 of us got dressed and took a very early morning walk around the neighborhoods. Like 7 a.m. It was absolutely STUNNING out.

Like blue so blue it felt unearthly.

Me trying to keep up with his dad:

Champion speed walkers (Alex and I were so slow and they were like, mad that they had to slow their pace for us):

When our walk was over, around 9:30, Alex made us all breakfast. A healthy ‘spa’ breakfast as I liked to call it, which we needed after our dinner the night before. Scrambled egg whites with mushrooms, onions, and green pepper, with fresh cantaloupe and whole grain toast. Then Alex’s parents went on a HIKE (after our walk), and he and I laid out by the pool for 2 hours. What’s wrong with that picture.

{I got these L*Space fringe bathing suits at an event at South Moon Under (an East Coast chain) where they were having 20% off. I’m in love with them. I have no boobs so I can’t wear bra-cups and bandeaus make my flatness so apparent. The cut of the top, and the fringe, is my perfect suit.}

POOL BOY!

When his parents got back, we made a schmorgasboard lunch from leftovers we had from our dinner at Tinto, and some fresh artichoke. We ate out back by the pool, the most perfect place to have a meal ever.

After a little more pool time, we went and got changed and drove into town to do secret santa shopping for the Yankee Gift Swap we were having with his extended family (who was ALSO in Palm springs for Christmas) the next day.

For shopping in town, I wore this:

{Lucky Brand Maris Wedge (old, but still available here if you’re a size 7.5 or 10, haha), green DL 1961 denim (obvs), silver sparkle-thread Joie sweater, Billabong neon tribal bag from South Moon Under}

While in town, we obviously got Coffee Bean & Tea Leaf again (as we did every day). After getting our secret santa gifts, we stopped into the Trina Turk home store (it’s well-known that her only physical storefront is in Palm Springs, and that next door is her only physical HOME storefront, where you can get decor items– all stuff that’s not available online or anywhere). I didn’t think I’d find anything I wanted, and if I did I assumed it would be stupidly priced (as was the case with 99.9 percent of the things there), but fell in LOVE with a $35-dollar tribal basket. I love/am always looking for tribal baskets. We use a neutral one as our hamper, which you can see in this picture here (it’s a very old one of how our room looked for 1 hour of an afternoon while I was experimenting when that rug first came).

This is how our room ACTUALLY looks– the hamper basket is half-shown in the very right-hand corner of the photo.

I’m always looking for good ones like that for storing things like throw pillows, scarves, big purses, etc. The one at Trink Turk had an almost neon-blue trim woven in with the neutral, and was so inexpensive. I shipped it home for $8 and am excited to incorporate it into our room. It’s medium-sized, so smaller than the size of that hamper big enough to hold 2 pillows. It’s really cute.

After shopping for about an hour, we headed home for a little down-time, and then decided to go check out The Ace and Viceroy hotels.

I’ve read about them on my favorite blogs for literally 3 years…the AMOUNT of times a blogger I know/love/read has mentioned being at The Ace, Viceroy, or Parker…the amount of times I see it on Twitter, or Instagram….I mean I was DYING to finally get to these destinations I had heard so much about, in person.

The Ace, to be honest, was my least favorite. We didn’t eat at King’s Highway, the famous diner at the Ace Hotel. And it was certainly, cool……but it was just like….I get it, you’re hipster. It felt almost annoyingly hipster. And I am probably the person on earth who has the highest tolerance/love for all things hipster. It was just like…..we get it, we get it, you used to be a shitty motor inn and you were transformed into something that’s trying to make you seem like you’re a down-to-earth motor inn but one that’s ‘hip’ and draws a ‘hip crowd,’ and you have a photo booth in your lobby and everyone who stays there looks like they’re dirty and poor but they’re not, and you’re TRYING to give off a vibe like you could have been the location of a porno in 1970, except you were contrived in 2009. I don’t know, something about it struck me as inauthentic. Which is getting at something, because I am the person of all people who would LOVE a place that felt like a porno was shot there in 1970. That’s like, my style. It’s trying for that but didn’t work. I was just kind of like “meh, this is kind of toolish.” I did lOVE love love love lov the big ACE sign though.

And we obbbbbviously did the photo booth (that’s me holding up our strip):

And a ‘lil closer-up, next to some of my make-up pouch essentials neatly organized : ) –

There’s something so fun about coming home from vacation with a black-and-white photo booth memory.

I don’t know, maybe I need to give it another shot, but my FIRST impression was just kind of…..flat. I get what you’re doing here, Ace, and it’s not…that…great. I did like the secretive little interior bar that separated the pool from the diner/lobby. Maybe I’d like it better if we stayed there.

After Ace, we drove to Viceroy, which was just magical and glamorous and LOVELY. I fell in love instantly. Its interiors are designed by Kelly Wearstler, and it was so glam and chic and gorge. Alex was OBSESSED with the grounds.. They have an insane view and are just lush and awesome, with all these private little cabana rooms. It was super neat. We decided to take his parents back there the next day. (I have pictures of the next day in daylight, but not that night– they’ll be in the next post).

When we got back to the house, we had a drink out by the fire pit, and his parents made pork roast, brussel sprouts, sweet potatoes, and salad. It was heaven, and we basically went to bed right after dinner.

Days 3 and 4 (Christmas Eve and Christmas) are coming up in the next post!

Christmas in Palm Springs, and my relationship with ‘the holidays’

{all pictures my own, taken on this trip}

Christmas in Palm Springs was exactly what I’d always thought it would be, and imagined it to be based on years of movies and pop culture. There’s something I’ve always been drawn to about the 1950′s – 1970′s. ‘The 80s are where it gets bad, and then I like the ’90′s again exclusively for the music and fashion. But in terms of design, and our country, and every single thing about it– the politics and history, the architecture, the culture, the gender roles, the men, the women, their clothing, the music, the way things looked, the way things were, the glamor, the movie stars, their linen pants– I have always been OBSESSED with mid-century straight through the ’70′s. Retro retro retro. Every single thing about Mad Men’s last season. The F.U.R.N.I.T.U.R.E. The Motels. The hair styles. 1950-1979 are my favorite years in America. And I knew Palm Springs would be one big giant visual and cultural orgasm for me. It reminded me VERY much of what going to Cuba would be like too (I’ve seen my dad’s pictures and videos). Just a place totally stuck in time. The old cars. The SIGNAGE ON THE MOTELS. OH GOD, THE SIGNAGE. Every other structure was an old motel or restaurant with signage that made me feel like I had traveled back to 1956, or 1964. Like I was in the musical South Pacific. It was all so cool. Rich old people. A thriving, massive, gay culture. Historic hollywood neighborhoods where the biggest stars in the world used to come– Sinatra and Cary Grant and Janet Leigh. Ugh it was SO. COOL. !!!!!!!!

My boyfriend’s parents treated us to a week-long vacation in Palm Springs, which was incredible and generous and beyond anything I’d ever done. My family never took vacations, let alone over the holidays. And my family has never had a tradition for the holidays, for two reasons: lack of money, and my parents are divorced and never got re-married (and still live together in the same house where I spent my Christmases up to college, which happens to be a 10-minute drive from where Alex and I currently live in DC). So there was never like…. a “thing” that we did (except when we were children, of course).

Since I grew up (which I place as starting the summer of 8th grade and climbing upwards ever since) and my brother and I got more and more independent, our reality is that we’re less like a family than 4 individual people doing our own thing who have different relationships with each other. So whenever “the holidays” come, it’s just simply never been that different for me than what the rest of life is like. We don’t have any annual, regular, traditions or things that we do. We don’t have a predictable event that’s guaranteed to happen every Christmas Eve– like having the same people over, or opening stockings, or drinks by the fire, or some home-cooked meal. We don’t have cousins who live in the area to do some extended secret santa exchange with. So, I don’t view the holidays in anticipation of my mom’s pot roast or my dad’s hot toddies. I don’t view them in anticipation of me and my brother getting matching Christmas pajamas and taking silly pictures together. I don’t view them in anticipation of our tradition to eat cinnamon rolls for breakfast and unwrap our presents. None of that exists for me, so the holidays to me represent the summation of my OWN associations with snow and songs and friends and secret santa exchanges and the feeling I get when I smell the crispness of the air outside and remember how excited I used to get when the Santa Claus in the giant firetruck would come through our neighborhood. I’d describe it is as my holiday memories and anticipation not being family associated, but personal associated. My memories are mine, and not related to any grand nostalgia for like, snuggling in bed with my parents and watching It’s a Wonderful life as a family unit. Because of that, every single Christmas has always been different. Like when I was 23, my mom was in Nebraska and my dad gave me a heated blanket because he knows I’m always cold and it was a way to offset the expensive heat bill. When I was 21, I was in Wyoming with my college boyfriend’s family and it snowed and was a lovely memory. When I was 22, all 4 of my family members were under the same roof (bad idea) and got into a fight and my brother threw a tv out of a window onto our roof.

Generally how it’s worked since I graduated from college, and several years before that, is that my brother usually opts to work because he makes more on the holidays because no one else is willing to work so he makes double; my dad and I might go out to eat or to a spur-of-the-moment matinee; my mom and I might go over to her friend (my godmother’s house), or she might have her own neighborhood friends over; and so it’s a very average kind of time with very little advance planning. People are always asking me what I’m “doing” for the holidays and I’m like “psh I don’t know, watching Felicity in bed?” (at my own apartment). Because I literally would do that on Christmas and be perfectly content and it wouldn’t be out of the ordinary. It’s one of the reasons I’m as independent as I am, because I don’t really have anyone to answer to in that sense. I’m used to just…creating my own events/logistics. If either one of my parents had re-married, things would be so completely different, but the truth of it is….when you literally have FOUR people in your entire family—and 2 of them are divorced, and 3 of them still live under the same roof together (mom + dad + brother, as it has been for nearly a decade)— what exactly ARE you going to do– have dinner together as a foursome? It’s not like my mom can set up shop by the hearth that doesn’t exist and wrap presents for her 26 and 30 year old children who have their own lives, and have them over and serve hot cocoa while my dad cooks and joins in, because THEY’RE DIVORCED AND STILL LIVE TOGETHER IN THE SHACK I GREW UP IN. And don’t have the money to go anywhere as an alternative to being under each other’s feet (i.e.– a vacation, or even to go out to dinner). And said shack is devoid of the trappings of “a home”, like furniture and decorations and a fridge with food in it, or silverware in a drawer (open a kitchen drawer in that house and you’ll sooner find a dog toy than anything that’s actually supposed to be in a kitchen), because it’s not a home. It’s a structure–4 walls and a roof–under which 4 very different human beings can sleep and then wake up and conduct their separate lives (The 4th person being Michael, the Australian renter). There is no cozy common space where you gather under throw blankets to watch Homeland on Sunday nights, or bedrooms where you snuggle in bed and read a book. It’s just……a structure, with mattresses. And a red leather 1980′s couch that my dad acquired 15 years ago and has been chewed in half by the dogs. And that’s just been my reality since I was 14-ish and is totally my normal. We do our own thing, the 4 of us. There’s never been any warm sense in my mind of “coming home,” the way you see it in movies, TV, and Folger’s commercials, least of all at the holidays. I love them as individual PEOPLE, my family, but my sense of “home”, and as it pertains to “family,” is really really different than most of the people I’ve ever met, even ones who also come from divorced families. I would make my dorm-room at Dartmouth feel more in line with home than that which I had no real control of at my “home” in Maryland. A stocked mini fridge, serene, comforting, cozy, a nice big bed with tons of throw pillows that looked like a hotel or the ones in magazines. I have a vivid memory of a guy I was seeing, coming into my dorm room there, and saying “wow…….I’ve never seen a dorm room feel so…homey. It’s like I’m at my parents house in Colorado.” And I was SO proud he’d said that. I literally would turn my shoebox-sized dorm rooms into the homiest place you could ever be. With money I didn’t have on a JCPenny credit card. JC Penny.

And so, 2 of my family members at a time will hang out. Like my mom and I will have a low-key dinner where she gives me an adorable smattering of things she found at TJ Maxx…..while my dad and brother are in the next room watching an illegally downloaded movie together on a laptop my brother bought off Craigslist because there’s no TV or cable. And also the Australian renter who wears booty shorts and pays half the mortgage is also in the next room (Ting Ting Wang, the old Asian roommate moved out). And by ‘next room’ I mean, literally 2 feet away because the house is a literal garage. And everything above is why/how I just go where the wind takes me on holidays, and have since freshman year of college. So that’s why I totally GET why 99.9 percent of people ask me things like, “is it weird to not be with your OWN family on Christmas?” And I’m like….”uh, no, and it never has been.” Because my ‘family’ doesn’t DO things on Christmas. It’s kind of impossible to really…celebrate holidays until each divorcee creates a new life and a new chapter in a SEPARATE residence from one another. It’s the inherent nature of divorce, but especially the inherent nature of divorce when the people who were once married don’t then get re-married and build a new family and instead continue living together in the same house they bought before they had two children, for legal and financial reasons far too complicated to explain here. And that’s why by being with my boyfriend’s family, or anyone else’s, I’m not “missing” a family event of my own. When my first “real” boyfriend and I began dating my junior year of college, I spent almost every Thanksgiving/Christmas with his fam for the duration that we dated.

I obviously adore/cherish spending time with my two crazy, unique parents INDIVIDUALLY and is something I cherish independent of “the holidays.” But you just can’t spend Christmas morning with people who can’t be within 1 inch of one another without fighting like Ricky and Lucy with higher stakes. When I stop by and my mom is downstairs, my dad stays upstairs. I’ll hang out with her, and then go upstairs and see him. Literally. (Or if there is a buffer, like Alex is over, we can exist in the same room except they just whipser-fight passive aggressively like they’re on stage, and we laugh at how they interact like an old married couple EXACTLY like George’s parents on Seinfeld, and then I silently thank Jesus Christ in heaven that I moved out and have a healthy, functional, beautiful relationship with a man like Alex and my own, homey, comforting, warm, inviting, dwelling where I CAN invite people over to and there’s silverware in the silverware drawer and bandaids in the medicine cabinet and food in the fridge and it feels like a home where the people living in it love each other and are happy to be there. That’s all I ever wanted. And then Michel the Australian renter comes out of his room to make spaghetti in the kitchen in ass-tight track shorts while I think these thoughts). So, I look VERY much forward to a million traditions and vacations with the family I create one day, but until I literally create my own (i.e. have my own children when I’m mid 30′s probably), me, my mom, my dad, and my brother are just 4 adult people doing our own thing in life. Except 3 of them still live together.

Which is ALL to say that Christmases in exotic locales, or exotic locales PERIOD are very special to me. They hold a kind of mythic place in my mind/heart. The only place I’ve ever been on vacation (like, not visiting someone, not studying in school, just straight VACATION) was Cabo, San Lucas Mexico, because I was invited along with my friend Whitney on her family’s trip there in 2009. I’ve written a post on this before, but the idea of “vacation” is really important to me and the tradition of an annual one is probably the #1 tradition I look forward to creating with my own family. As a kid, (and still to this very day, as evidenced by Palm Springs with Alex’s fam) the only vacations I went on were if I was invited by someone else’s family. I’ve also decided (after some pondering on the 5 hour plane ride home), that I think travel in your twenties– or at least a grand portion of your twenties–is defined by (1) visiting someone, (2) travelling to somewhere 2 hours a way or less, or (3) vacationing with your own family (or in my case, someone else’s). So like………..I have a friend who lives in New York City, I can visit New York City. I have family who live in Miami, Alex and I can travel to Miami. We have a friend who lives in New Orleans, we can travel to New Orleans. I have a best friend who lives in Los Angeles, we visit Los Angeles. My friends know someone who lives in the Carribean ,so they’re going there in January. They’re not just GOING to the Carribean, they’re going specifically and exclusively beCAUSE a friend literally lives/works there, so they have a home to stay at and it gives them an opportunity to spend time with said friend. Or you go to a nearby place (hence my 2-hour drive qualification) such as Philly to DC, or West Virginia to DC, or whatever, where you drive Saturday morning, stay Saturday night, and come back Sunday afternoon. Or your family is going to Spain so you go with them. Lodging–anywhere–is SOOOO expensive, that I thusly think the decade of 20-30 and our income within that decade generally dictates that that you go where you know people, because that will inherently mean you have somewhere to stay. Because how often can you just be like GUESS WHAT– we’re going to The Cayman Islands, where we know no one, have no friends, have no one to stay with or visit, and our parents aren’t going and subsidizing the whole thing, nope, just US, two 26 year olds, going to to The Cayman Islands for one week on our dime. That shit is EXPENSIVE, like 3 grand expensive at least. So I don’t know; my point of that was to say that I think that’s how travel-in-your-20′s is defined; and I think that travel in your 30′s is probably when you start to be able to actually travel to somewhere not because/only because you have a friend you can stay with or your parents are going and you can go too.

So, all this to say, that when Alex and I started dating, I was 24 years old (2 years ago), and we started spending Christmas at his parent’s house outside of Boston. This year, in April, his parents decided that for the first time in 30 years, they wanted to spend Christmas *not* at home. His mom has always cooked for Christmas—a Porchini mushroom pot roast—and their kitchen was going to be remodeled this year so they weren’t going to be able to cook (and there would be literal construction dust and havoc). SO, they decided they wanted to go to sweet sweet California for the holiday, and obviously wanted to spend it with family and not just the 2 of them alone in California, so they treated both me and Alex to flights, rental car, rental house, the whole deal. UNREAL. Literally “all expenses paid” like we had won a giveaway from a car dealership, except no weird restrictions or resort food. We had been looking forward to it for MONTHS. At one point, I wrote “92 days until Palm Springs” on our chalkboard, and I literally feel like we time-traveled because those 92 days went by quicker than anything ever has.

The process of choosing the rental house was interactive and so fun to send links months before Christmas– in April, like “what about this one!” and “oh my god we’re moving here.” Alex and I were so on-board with the SUPER SUPER modern houses, that look like Frank Lloyd Wright and have all-glass and are futuristic and sparse:

mid cent 0

But his parents, who grew UP in the mid-century era and are OVER it (haha, how time works is hilarious/amazing– his mom would see me going CRAZY in the design/furniture stores, and be like, ‘if you only KNEW the Eames-style teakwood furniture that was in my mother’s house, you would probably pass out’ because that’s just HOW people’s homes looked in the ’60′s), were not into it. Mid-century design is like, a too-close-for-comfort reminder of their childhood and Alex and I are like OHMYGOD A BERTOIA CHAIR!!! So they wanted something SPANISH style– arched doorways, barrel tile roofing, which is basically how the OTHER half of homes in Palm Springs are– very ranchy California and not The Jetsons– and they picked the best rental house EVER.

It was a white-washed stucco exterior, with barrel tile roofing, and a dusty little front with cacti everywhere. So california desert.

The inside had the cutest little Spanish kitchen and lots of Southwestern accents. The backyard was huge and gorgeousssssssssssss, literally nestled AT the base of the mountains, with a pool, gagillion seating areas, and beauuuutiful views.

There was like a hidden garden area (back there where the chairs are) that had a FIREPIT, and a covered porch area where we ate lunch outdoors several days:

The view from the barrel-tile roof:

It was the cutest, most perfect little home, and I have a FEELING it will see more Alina/Alex Christmases in its lifetime.

Oh, and it had a CASUAL grapefruit, orange, clementine, AND lemon tree. AYFKMRN??? That’s just like……rude. It was an EMBARRASSMENT of citrus riches. Who has a SINGLE tree dedicated EACH to lemons, grapefruit, clementine, AND oranges, in their mother fucking backyard. IT WAS MAGNIFICENT. IN FACT, Alex and I stole like 7 oranges and grapefruits before leaving on our last day (don’t tell his dad– he was worried we would like, de-earth the trees if we plucked the fruit and we were like 1.) this isn’t the Bible, and 2.) you don’t have FRUIT TREES ON YOUR RENTAL PROPERTY IF YOU DON’T EXPECT THE RENTERS TO PLUCK AND SUBSEQUENTLY EAT THE FRUIT), and AS I wrote this post in bed today, I sucked down the glorious juice of a fresh California grapefruit from our very rental house. THEY WERE THE BEST LEMONS, ORANGES, AND GRAPEFRUITS I’VE EVER HAD. I don’t mess with Clementines. Those average bitches. Who eats a clementine when an orange is on the next-door tree. A troll is who.

This was my first post in a SERIES of posts about our Christmas in Palm Springs. This one was some context and an introduction to our rental casa. I am going to do posts based on each day of the trip, as well as LA, and some other things. Stay tuned. SO MANY PICTURES AND STORIES TO COME. xoxo

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Filed under Life and things, Travel

July 10, 2012 · 10:43 am

Phirst Time in Philly

So before my boyfriend and I move to California (which may not happen for two years but we like to dream/take action), we committed to maximizing the East Coast. On our chalkboard wall several months ago, we wrote down 5 places we wanted to/must visit while we’re still super close to them.

Because the fact of the matter is, if/when we live in the West Coast, how likely/practical will it be that we’ll take a trip to…..Miami, for a very long time? Or to….Philly? Extremely unlikely/impractical.When we live in LA, we’ll be taking weekend trips to all things West Coast– northern california, Mexico, Seattle, Las Vegas, Portland, etc. I would venture to say that if we didn’t make it to Philly while we lived in DC, we probably never would have gone to Philly. Imagine: we’re living our life, in sunny southern California, hiking Runyon Canyon every weekend and taking Sunday drives through Topanga Canyon to Malibu, and weekend jaunts to Santa Barbara and Carmel and Big Sur, eating Bottega Louis and Coffee Bean and Tea Leaf every day….when are we going to sit down and be like “you know, let’s buy a plane ticket and travel the entire country to visit PHILADELPHIA.” The answer is never.

The same exact thing applies to the other 4 destinations we wrote down:

Bowdoin (Portland)
Dartmouth
~~Miami~~
~~Baltimore~~

Both Alex and I have really been wanting to get back to our college campuses, ESPECIALLY before leaving the East Coast because, c’mon, like my Philly example up above, chances of us buying plane tickets to those places from CALIFORNIA are literally non existent. It’s just obvious— if you can’t even get to those places when you live a 1 hour plane ride away (more or less), it AIN’T GON’ HAPPEN. The college campuses themselves were written down as the destination, because…they are. We’re not going for the cities they’re in, we’re going…for the college itself, like to step foot on the greens and visit the libraries as though we’re 18 years old again. Except Bowdoin happens to be 20 minutes from Portland Maine which has like an unreal restaurant scene and I’ve never spent much time in, so we’ll explore Portland while we’re at Bowdoin but Hanover is like, a street. And it’s just really crazy and unbelievable that I haven’t stepped foot on it since the DAY I graduated. I really really miss it and want to show Alex it, and vice versa. He’s never been and I’ve never been to his. What we realized is that next June is BOTH of our 5 year reunions (I literally CANNOT believe that when I go I will have not stepped foot on the campus in 5 years), and they’ll probably be around the same time and the two campuses are like 3 hours apart, so we’re just going to knock them out then. Couldn’t be more perfect. Because when would we ever visit either place from…..LA. “Oh hey babe, you know, we live in this amazing beautiful city on the west coast where summer is eternal and life is magical, but I was thinking, we should buy a plane ticket to Bowdoin this weekend.” #no. If we don’t visit these places while we live in DC, they literally may not happen for ten years.

And this spring alone, we knocked out Miami (recap post here), Baltimore and Philly. We went to Miami in May in honor of Alex’s birthday; we spent the day in Baltimore when my aunt/cousin were in town (because he was college visiting in the area); and this past weekend, we got our act together and finally went to Philly. I wore this, for our first steps in the city:

The trip ended up being EXACTLY 24 hours, yet we got a lot done. We rolled in at 6 p.m. on Thursday, and after settling in our hotel room we took a walk in the Rittenhouse Square area and stopped into a place for the best appetizer I’d never thought of: HEARTS OF PALM BRUSCHETTA. Instead of tomatoes, the base of the bruschetta was tiny little chunks of diced hearts of palm. It was so fucking good.

Then, we took the loveliest evening stroll in the world to a restaurant that my boyfriend had researched and surprised us with. It was called Meme and it was SOOOOOOOOOOOO good. EVERYTHING about it, the location, the ambiance, the decor, the food. We got watermelon salad (legit my favorite thing in the summer) with this dry ricotta and arugula and sugar snap peas + sizzling mussels (without the shell and with LOTS OF LEMON) and fresh salmon.We sat next to a couple that was getting divorced, AT the table, and the dialogue was so fascinating that I took out my blackberry and wrote down every single word they said. I have a transcript of their divorce in my blackberry. Because that is what writers do. I couldn’t NOT.

After dinner we walked through like..a French area of the city that was soooo super charming…just people and couples out and about, leisurely strolling, eating ice cream, it was a very cute and calm part of the city, not like….Times Square. We walked back to the hotel, and got into bed to have chocolate covered strawberries …………..

……….and to watch Aaron Sorkin’s new show, Newsroom. Mixed feelings, as it’s so painfully contrived sometimes and the MUSIC, I truly thought it was a JOKE when it first crept into the scene, because surely he couldn’t have possibly put that corny of music into that pivotal of a scene to make it THAT clear that the scene is ‘supposed’ to be sentimental even though it’s blatantly fucking obvious WITHOUT the music and the music totally cheapens and mocks it and insults everyone watching, but apparently Sorkin is serious with it. BUT, Jeff Daniels is so so so so so so career-pinnacle good in it, his acting is like, disturbingly effortless, and the dialogue is smart/funny/interesting despite trying too hard at times, so we’re definitely sticking with it.

It’s so fun/weird to see Thomas Mathews (Chris Mathews son) in the show (he has a small role as the comic relief- he’s like…that OTHER male worker who talks really fast and everyone snaps at because he asks redundant or annoying questions haha), because I carpooled twice a week with him in highschool to go to our fellowship at the Folger Shakespeare Library. You already know this if you read my Miami post, but I would literally, drive my station wagon, to his school, pull up outside, beep beep, and he would hop in, and we’d talk all the way to the Folger library HAHA. He was very very very much like his character (not annoying), but a fast talker who…speaks really fast and is high energy and says things really drly and so quickly you almost don’t realize he just said a funny joke till like 20 seconds after. I love people like that.

So HE’S on the show and I get really really excited every time he has screen time! We actually found out ABOUT the show when we were getting drunk at the DC airport bar on our way to Miami and saw his dad and I was like “oh hey Chris Matthews, I drove your son to our fellowship in highschool” and he was like “oh yeah he’s actually out in LA working on this new Sorkin pilot” and then Alex and I both came in our pants because we love Sorkin and because we found out about his new show from Chris Mathews’ mouth. So after 2 episodes, despite how CORNY Mackenzie McHale’s “The-news-is-about-the-facts” speeches are, we are def hooked.

After one episode, we ordered room service because you HAVE to when you’re on a romantic one-night get away in a hotel! We were so full that my stomach literally H-U-R-T, like I’ve never been so sickeningly full, but was going to die before I let the night pass WITHOUT eating room service in bed. Chocolate lava cake + ben & Jerry’s. : )

The next morning, we slept till 10:30 (the bed was PURE luxury, never in my life had a better sleep), and then walked to COLOMBE COFFEE, which I’d figured out was NOT ONLY in Soho (I’d gone the weekend before when I was in New York City) but was also in Philly and HAPPENED to be 10 feet from our hotel!!!Honestly, WHAT. ARE. THE. CHANCES. That I go to New York (trip recap here), and my friend takes me to like the best place I’ve ever had coffee in my life (tied with or second to Coffee Bean/Tea Leaf), and I am going to Philly the next weekend, and find out that of like the 5 locations in the U.S., Colombe is ALSO in Philly and I’ll have a second chance to have it in the span of 7 days! And more importantly, introduce it to my boyfriend! We live for coffee (though I have to be careful with my acid problems), and there’s nothing I want more, when I try good coffee, than for Alex to try and enjoy the goodness. I was so excited he’d be able to try Colombe while in Philly (or LA colombe, whatever the eff you call it).

Yes I look really tired in this photo, hennnnnnnce the coffee:

With iced coffees in hand, we drove straight to East Passyunk to have breakfast at a place called Chhaya. I find restaurant and shop ideas in new cities the RANDOMEST ways that only a true internet addict/blog lover/lifestyle researcher could appreciate/understand. I only know of one Philly-based blogger, the adorable Veronika of Tik-Tok vintage. I knew that she’d done a guest post series for Modcloth’s blog on her fave spots in Philly (probably because I’d read something about it on twitter and it stuck in my brain), so I googled “modcloth tik tok vintage”, and came upon the post in question. I obviously noted her recommendations, but also read each COMMENT where readers supplemented with suggestions, and one reader described Chhaya and it sounded amazing, and then I checked out the website and loved it INSTANTLY (so important, how the website looks) and read the food on the menu and was sold. We LOVED it. It was so cute. So so my exact style of place. I got waffles with sausage gravy and Alex got hash browns and shit. So, thank you, random 7th commenter on Veronika’s guest-post series on Modcloth’s blog.

We walked and strolled and walked and strolled, then drove to Reading Terminal Market– OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH MYYYYYYYYY GODDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDD.

Every type of old-fashioned candy you could ever imagine, which I don’t like eating but enjoy looking at
A million specialty chocolate treats including chocolate covered potato chips and gummy bears
All fruit in the world
The most delicious and creamy looking ice cream I’ve ever seen, which apparently Obama loves (there were pictures)
All meat ever
All cheese that’s ever been made
Fresh squeezed juice
Really absurdly delicious looking sandwiches
Jams. All kinds of jams.
All kinds of pickles.
All other food that exists on planet earth

Then we walked and walked some more, including some vintage shopping but no purchases. And then….around 5:00 p.m. we headed straight for Cantina de los Caballitos, which was the thing I was looking forward to the most the entire time.

I’d read about it in Veronika’s post, and then saw mentions of it like 3 other places, and it looked sooooooooo adorable. It surpassed all expectations. Cutest outside (doesn’t it look like we’re LEGIT in Mexico?), cutest inside, best salsa verde EVER, best plantains, best chicken/shrimp tacos, and really yummy passionfruit/guava/mango margaritas!!

I wanted to get festive for our casual-fancy last date in Philly, so I wore this outrageously versatile white Iro cocktail dress with puffed sleeves that I got from Style Etoile because they are the only humans I know with a keen enough eye to buy this dress for their boutique, because even the places that sell Iro like Net-a-Porter never sold this dress even thoughhhhhhhhh It’s THE BEST dress and I got it for the BEST price because they have THE BEST sales ever. I wore it with the BOMBEST gold collar necklace ALSO FROM STYLE ETOILE because they are the only humans I know that carry Mona Assemi because they have the eye to recognize how bomb her pieces are, and it was also an amazing price (like $4o or something, and I wear it with everything), PLUSSSSS my red/purple colorblock Zara heels that got their debut that night! So in love with them.

And then, at 6 pm, we hopped in the car, and were home at 8!!!! It was a total joke of a drive.

And that was our trip to Philly.

We are just CRUSHING our list of things to do while our address is still DC before we move to the west coast. Don’t worry bout it.

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Filed under Travel

July 3, 2012 · 10:55 pm

Packing for New York

I get a……….well…..one might say ‘materialistic’ pleasure out of packing. Though I think it’s more visual than consumer-whore. I like seeing things that have come to develop meaning for me, all cuddled together in one place, ready to define the trip I’m going on. Like, sharing the camaraderie of being the collective group of things that will be photographed and remembered decades from now when that trip is just that: remembered via photographs.

Every trip, no matter how small, is a fun chance to go through the things you own and pick the pieces that make sense for the memories that will be created on the trip– the weather, the place you’re going, the types of activities you’ll be involved in while there, the purpose of the trip, it all dictates what will be packed. And my god do I love to organize it all and take pretty pictures of it.

I went to New York this past weekend, on a solo trip, to visit a dear friend from Dartmouth. And this is what I packed. I will be doing a subsequent post (or posts plural) to recap the amazing time I had! For now, there’s this.

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Filed under My things, Travel

Category Archives: Travel

DECADES LA; And my thoughts/manifesto on SHOPPING

A Day in LA

Palm Springs Itinerary (Days 5 & 6)

(Worst picture of me ever, but oh well, you see the drink in its glory)

Palm Springs Itinerary (Day 3 & 4 of our Christmas trip)

Christmas in Palm Springs Itinerary (Days 1 and 2)

Christmas in Palm Springs, and my relationship with ‘the holidays’

Phirst Time in Philly

Packing for New York

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