perfect for vaccuuming

Le sigh.

Hint of school girl. Lady-like shape. Overwhelmingly fabulous shade of pink.

At Neiman, for more money than I spent on textbooks this semester.

wednesday which way

I hope I'm not the only one who fantasizes about all the possible ways to wear a new item, but then finds some of them a bit impractical for her lifestyle. I spend a good amount of free time (pathetic? probably, but better than my addiction to Millionaire Matchmaker) looking through my closet and coming up with outfits I think are cute possibilities. Sounds lame, but saves me loads of time on school mornings.

Polyvore is frighteningly addictive though, so I thought I'd bring my fashion ponderings online. Each week I'll try to pair a new or rarely worn item with two possible outfit choices, using mostly items I have or ones I found online that are similar. Unless otherwise noted, the outfits are to wear for a typical day of classes and lame bureaucratic meetings at school. Here's one I've thrown together for today. The navy skirt is the new item, which I got on sale from Old Navy, and the sweater is similar to the cream Uniqlo sweater I love and wear practically once a week.


Clearly I have a fondness for nautical color combinations. So, which way to wear it? I think the left is better for the kind of weather we have in New York right now, which is windy and cool but not icy. My silky scarf is a little longer than the pictured one. I think I would fold it twice and knot it loosely. The right would be cuter for spring, and could be worn without tights on a sunny day. I'd probably favor the left overall. What do you think?

chewy chocolate chip cookies

The other night NH and I had Italian food for dinner (I think we could have cooked better ourselves) but our waitress was so distracted that we decided to skip dessert and coffee and leave. We had just seen a movie (The Orphanage, worth it) and were a little tired so we settled up and started the arduous journey home. Once there, I offered to bake some cookies, which are always a satisfying dessert and are so easy to make. NH said he wouldn't ask me to make him cookies, but he wouldn't say no to them either--very cute. We settled on chocolate chip (CCCs) because, in the interest of experiment, I often make all different types and neglect the chocolate chip/peanut butter/oatmeal cookies that are the favorites of NH and my parents.

Of course, in the interest of experiment, I decided not to work from my favorite recipe, but to try something new. This one appealed, not just because chewiness is high on my list of essential CCC qualities, but also because the recipe calls for melted butter, which was excellent because all of the butter I had on hand at the time was frozen.

NH was supposed to relax and watch TV while I baked, but he ended up running two separate errands (first to get milk, then to buy me a There Will Be Blood poster from the semi-sketchy dude who sells the kind of posters usually seen on bus stops on the sidewalk in front of the grocery store). Then he offered to help me stir in the flour (I stupidly worked with a slightly too shallow bowl and the hand mixer would have created a flour explosion). A fair amount of flour landed on the counter anyway, but NH is good in the kitchen, I swear. I am supremely thankful for his help.

The cookies were effortless, as in they're really, really easy to make. The only downside is that they take forever in the oven compared to other cookies, but the deliciousness is worth the time. The recipe yielded fifteen huge cookies, about the size of the ones at say, Starbucks, but ninety times as delicious because the molasses flavor from the brown sugar is spot on and they don't have a disproportionate amount of chocolate to cookie (I may rant on that at another time). NH really loves those cookies with M+Ms in them, and I think I would adapt this recipe to make those for him. They really did stay soft for days.

Thanks to Nicole at Baking Bites, who shares many fabulous recipes for cookies as well as other delicious baked treats.

perfect for vacuuming: special edition

I guess it can't be all about the shoes.

How about this for a little sexy vacuuming?


This, for a fabulous evening out?


And this, because it's a little too gorgeous to stop looking at?


Oh, and this isn't available yet, but how ridiculously hot is it?


All from Posh Girl Vintage. All beautiful and all quite a bit outside of my "not terribly useful but mighty beautiful" discretionary budget. I've never ordered from them myself, but the site is beautiful perusing over morning coffee.

the mouse that dove into the stove

Once upon a time there was a princess. She wasn't a spoiled, pampered princess. If we are honest, she more closely resembled The Little Prince after the dual devastating tragedies of parental death and lost wealth* than The Little Princess when she was the wealthiest pupil and had special horses and all the cinnamon buns she could want and so on. One morning, the princess woke up, stretched, set the coffee making and went downstairs to the kitchen to start preparing the royal breakfast. As she stepped into the kitchen, her mouth already watering at the thought of delicious princess toast (similar to Tubby Toast but tastier, and without jam, and also not the only thing the princess ever consumed), she saw a suspicious, small, gray creature dive from the top of the stove right into one of the burners! The princess, fond of animals (because what princess isnt? small furry animals exist for the purpose of dressing princesses**), was surprised but didn't scream. She was also rather happy to discover that the burner, and the oven, were both off. Still, that pesky image of the little mouse's long, gray tail stuck in her mind. She decided to stick with the microwave and the toaster this particular morning.

* Of course, I am fortunate to have not one, but four parents, who are all alive and well, so I am nowhere near as sad, forsaken, etc. as poor little Sara Crewe.

** See Cinderella, in the Disney animated feature of the same name, for an illustration of this technique.

housewives don't need to study

But unfortunately, I do.

I've been toying with the idea of one day being a doctor. This is more a vague and unsettling (in a good way) idea, rather than a plan or anything of the sort. In addition to med school, it would require significant post-bacc work (I'm a humanities major and a little late in my career to just change majors), so it wouldn't be a simple undertaking. Anyway I only mention this because S, dental student extraordinaire, brought her anatomy atlas to the library when we met to study (now), and I totally have to say, humans are fascinating and gross. And yet I cannot stop looking at the pictures.

Also, flavored coffee is disgusting. The smell of hazelnut brew is enough to put me off my feed. Anyone who knows me knows that that is pretty serious, as I munched cheese nips while flipping through the anatomy atlas. I guess I'm a coffee purist at heart.

perfect for vacuuming + an honest look

Nothing much to say about these Dolce & Gabbana sandals, except they're fierce. I really hate when Christian on Project Runway says that, but it is absolutely true of these. They're fairly plain until you notice the back. They are the focal point of whatever you wear them with. At Nordstrom.

Honest Look: Tonight, I tried the recipe for brown rice suggested by Abi of Heat Eat Review, and it worked. I baked a loaf of whole wheat bread (it just came out of the oven) and made enough vegetarian chili to eat it for lunch or dinner everyday this week. Overall, I'm happy. I wish I'd managed to squeeze in the brussels sprouts, but, sadly, no.

At least I picked out some really yummy cherries from the grocery store.

the perfect nail color

S, who accompanied me for a pre-opera manicure/pedicure yesterday afternoon, long ago turned me on to a beauty secret I will now share with you, worthy readers. I know everyone is convinced that Essie's Ballet Slippers or something equally dull is the perfect nail color but I think the flaw with Ballet Slippers, which I have worn several times myself (my mother used to do nails) is that it looks better on those with lighter skin. It's not impossible to flatter almost all skin shades with a single hue, think of colors like eggplant, which look nice on practically everyone. No, in my opinion, the perfect nail color (and I am so in awe of this shade that I will continue to refer to it just like that, with italics) is Essie's Guchi Muchi Puchi. This pale pink looks as lovely with a tan as with pale wintery skin, and has enough white and pink in it to show up on everyone. It's ladylike, and although I can see it working in a mod sort of way with the right jewelry, it's mostly just timeless. As S once pointed out, the polish fades really well, so that while your pedicure at first has more purple-y tones, three weeks later it's looking a bit pink (rather than a bit dull). At seven bucks a bottle, Guchi Muchi Puchi is a worthy beauty indulgence.

I'm wearing the overly trendy but decidedly (and yes, I mean "decided by me") sexy Russian Navy on my toes. I like both of these shades enough to own bottles of them.

to cook tonight

vegetarian chili
brown rice (trying new method)
roast brussels sprouts
bread (if I am not too lazy to go buy whole wheat flour)

The brussels sprouts don't really fit but I'm just roasting them to have as lunch for the next few days. I love brussels sprouts, and they are a secret, fetishistic love.

the case against calle ocho

NH surprised me with opera tickets for Christmas. The opera in itself was a fun experience (his first time).

Dinner beforehand was rather another story. He made reservations at Calle Ocho, where a friend of ours had apparently enjoyed a buoyant and delicious evening or two. We arrived, and although we felt a bit over dressed in our opera attire (NH wore a suit, I wore a blue jersey dress over tights and heels), the place was pretty gorgeously designed and we were excited for our meal. Our waitress was sweet if a bit dull and wore a lovely pink top, which I complimented right off.

Things went well until we didn't order drinks with our dinner. After that, it was pretty much as though we'd fallen from grace. Having lost the monetary value of the tables that surrounded us (and really, there weren't that many-this was dinner before an 8 PM show) the waitress no longer deemed NH and I worthy of her attention. Her demeanor was suddenly, and obviously, colder. I sensed the reason right away, and over mediocre entrees (as with many trendy places, Calle Ocho likes to pile all of the dish's components on top of one another, this doesn't work so nicely when you stack mild salsa, lobster mashed potatoes and salmon) NH revealed that he two had noticed the change.

Now, it's not like I don't understand why tables who order expensive alcohol, or at least overprices bottles of fizzy water, are more valuable than those who don't. I can do the math, and I have handfuls of friends who wait tables, so I know the plight of a New York City waiter at least secondhand. On the other hand, a tip is a tip. Shouldn't a waiter make the best of any situation, especially in a half-filled restaurant? I can't help but think that it would have been smarter for the waitress to maintain her high standard of service, earning a generous tip on our slightly-smaller bill. We would probably have consumed less than 40$ of alcohol (the approximate cost of one pitcher of sangria, which would be too much for us anyway), so she would have lost a maximum of 8$ in tip money. This was an extravagant gift meal and NH and I try to be generous tippers, so she could have made most of that back by at least remaining friendly and treating us like guests rather than huge inconveniences.

By the time dessert rolled around, the waitress didn't even bother to ask if we wanted the menus, she just thrust them at us and wandered away without a word. My blood began to seethe, but it was already seven, so we ordered coffee and dessert without complaint and waited. The coffee never showed, and ten minutes after our desserts landed (both acceptable but not great, both involving rapidly melting ice cream), she deigned to appear and point out that our coffees had never arrived. At that point, we ordered the check. She, of course, hovered for it like a vulture.

The food could have been fantastic, and at this point, I would not have remembered. Luckily, it wasn't great so I wasn't left feeling that we missed an awesome experience by not scoring better service. I left Calle Ocho with a sour stomach, but worse, feeling utterly dejected. Our meal cost a lot and we deserved decent service, regardless of what we ordered. We treated our waitress like a human (becoming rare in the city, I know) and she treated us like a bad paycheck. Worse, we knew that if we tipped badly, she would feel validated in her choice to treat us badly.

In the end, we left her between 13-15% and left quietly. I would like to have spoken to the manager about her poor performance, but it wasn't worth ruining the rest of our night (we would have been late for the show). What would you have done?

a really good post

In light of my recent resolution to never wear leggings as pants again, even if feeling ill/frumpy/depressed, I thought I'd link to this excellent post from Manolo for the Big Girl.

Wow, leggings at work? That's a level of fashion degradation to which I doubted anyone would stoop!

okay, i lied: the coworker

Alright, so I know before I went to bed last night I made a list of things I wanted to post about, including the really delicious, really large chocolate chip cookies I made for Not Husband (henceforth to be referred to as NH) last night. But, a friend of mine has been quietly suffering in his cubicle day after day, and I'm guessing that's more interesting than my opinions on the stellar film, The Orphanage, that I saw last night before making the cookies but after reading Martha Stewart Living.

My friend, who I will call Evan to avoid using the phrase "my friend" over and over again in a way that will inevitably become really creepy, works for a moderately-sized firm that uses their office space with relative innovation. Evan shares a title, and desk/office/airspace with a coworker. The two are actually pretty similar guys, same age, similar education, etc, but they're not exactly friends.

This office situation, which has gone on for several months, is less than ideal, chiefly because Evan is daily offended by the loud noises the coworker makes while snacking. The coworker favors crunchy snacks, annoying in themselves, but his apparent inability to fully close his mouth while chewing anything from pizza to chips makes the problem exponentially worse. Up until fairly recently, this was the same kind of annoyance one might have while living with a roommate, in that while never fun, it wasn't the end of the world either. For obvious reasons, Evan keeps his mouth shut literally and figuratively.

Recently, however, Evan was fielding a call from some higher-ups when the coworker exhibited complete disregard for their shared work space. While Evan struggled to hear some exec or other, the coworker loudly chomped on his snack and even worse, crumpled the bag, producing an irritating noise that Evan felt could be heard by the exec on the phone. Worse, Evan fears that the woman he was speaking to will think it was Evan himself crumpling a snack bag. It was, apparently, that loud.

Evan is a polite and thoughtful conversationalist, the last person you'd expect to see eating with his mouth open or eating while speaking on the phone. I say this with no illusions about a long time friend, he has plenty of other bad "guy" habits (like forgetting to change his sheets). But when he calls me to chat about this problem, I know it's serious. And now he's a little concerned it will hurt his career. As a fairly recent college graduate, he doesn't want to squander whatever professional capital he's already accrued.

In my opinion, this is a really sensitive situation, and I'm not even convinced Evan can do anything about it. When I first heard of the coworker's frustrating snacking habits, I felt Evan should just say something polite, along the lines of "Hey, do you mind not doing that while I'm on the phone?" at the soonest convenience.

But the more I thought about it, the more I realized how difficult it could be to share a desk daily with a guy you've confronted about his gross eating habits. Evan and his coworker have loads of joint projects (as I mentioned, they share a title), and could be working together for a long time. Even a little awkwardness could seriously inhibit their effectiveness as a team, and in the long run, hurt Evan's professional credibility.

I don't have my Emily Post with me (although I may call my mom and ask her to send it over), because it's way heavy and not something I consult every day. I wonder if it does have something to say about approaching a coworker about his or her continual breaches of etiquette. I'm going to keep thinking about what Evan can do to alleviate the situation, but, what would you do?

for tomorrow

Martha Stewart

Chewy Chocolate Chip Cookies

The Orphanage Review

I mean, I hope so anyway. I'm going to the opera tomorrow so I might not get to it.

No, I will.

perfect for vacuuming

These Jimmy Choos are the sort of heels that make a woman's legs look as though they go on forever and ever and ever. I found them in the Bergdorf Spring Preview, and I have to say, they put a little bounce in my step. I'm having a hermit-y night with a cup of coffee and the movie Sicko (review tomorrow), but I'll resume real posts tomorrow.

perfect for vaccuming + project runway love

A little fantasy fodder in these turquoise feathered Manolos I located while flipping through Neiman Marcus' spring preview. Feathers are, in my opinion, a bit of an underutilized detail. In my head, the woman wearing these shoes is practical with just enough whimsy. She reminds me of the rather apt line spoken by the daughter in the film Chocolat: "Why can't you wear black shoes like all the other mothers do?"

And I kind of want to be that kind of mom some day. Not the chocolate shop owner mom (although, an inn with excellent cookies, now that would be doable), but the surprising shoe wearing mom.

Onward. I'm an avid Project Runway watcher. I'll watch episodes four or five times before deciding whether I am happy with the results. Tonight however, my feelings are pretty clear. I hate that Ricky (Ricky!) won. Especially because Sweet Pea, who continues to prove herself the epitome of a late bloomer, produced such a gorgeous garment while I found Ricky's a tad tacky (I even like Rami's better, and I'm still mad at him for last week's nasty shenanigans). BUT. It was completely worth it to watch Ricky win because they finally got rid of the sad sack overly bland slightly obnoxious Victorya. I'm sort of tempted to sing a certain song associated with The Wizard of Oz, but I won't.

off my game

Despite craving a little comfort this afternoon, I decided to once again tackle my personal white whale: cooking brown rice. Seriously, I think I'm cursed. White rice is never a problem (but I try to stick to whole grains so I rarely cook it for myself), but brown rice is finicky and I can't think of one time I've done it just right. Many a night I have just given up or ordered a pint of brown rice from the local Chinese restaurant to eat with something that needed rice.

Well, the rice turned out a bit moist. I really hate that word "moist". But that's how it was, just a little too much liquid. I probably should have left it in the pot longer, but I was trying not to burn it. It didn't end up mattering so much, as I was planning to make lazy fried rice with garlic and onion an egg and soy sauce and shelled edamame. It turned out delicious anyway.

But it would be nice to figure out the secret to the rice. Suggestions?

freeze your own

What have I been munching for breakfast daily since returning to the university? Eggs, fruit and toast made from homemade bread.

This past summer, slightly daunted at the price of mediocre store-bought multigrain loaves, I decided to try my hand at making my own. I'm not going to be like some people I know and argue that bread making is painless (make enough and your arms will be sore the next day) or mess-free, but I do think it's worth it. I'm a huge proponent of knowing exactly what's in everything you eat. I'm finding more and more supermarket loaves contain artificial sweeteners, like sucralose (Splenda) that I'm trying to cut out of my diet. The loaf my mom prefers smells strangely of maple syrup when toasted. Strangely, because I've gone through the ingredients, and it doesn't contain maple syrup, or any natural sugars for that matter.

Bread making is fun, even if it can be challenging, and since long periods of its prep time involve waiting for it, it's a good activity for any decent multitasker. Sometimes I'll start the dough, bake some cookies, and then return to do the second knead, form the loaves, etc. Sometimes I'll read or run errands or do my homework. I haven't tried the fancy no-knead breads people have raved over for the last year, because I don't keep a dutch oven with me at school and haven't really thought to do it at home. Next time I have the opportunity to try it, I will.

Bread machines bore me. I'm never quite happy with the texture of the resulting loaves.

Many bread recipes produce more than one loaf, but luckily, bread freezes pretty well. The downsides are that when it defrosts, it goes stale a little faster than a fresh loaf. I get around this by making mostly breads that are mean to be toasted. I wait till they cool completely, slice the loaf, then double wrap it in foil and freeze. This means I can take out one slice or five as I need them.

I'm not going to post the recipe for the loaf I'm currently consuming, because in my opinion while it's delicious it's just not perfect yet. I took the whole wheat bread recipe from an old copy of the Joy of Cooking, and tweaked a bit. In the end I used 1/3 white flour, 1/3 whole wheat flour, 1/6 oats, 1/6 flax seeds (half meal, half whole seeds). This yielded two loaves that were chewy and flavorful, with lots of nutty whole-wheatness. The bread is better toasted than plain, but takes butter/jam/cream cheese delightfully. I think maybe doing it with some vital wheat gluten or playing around with the flour ratios will perfect it. If I ever do, I'll post.

perfect for vacuuming

I was wasn't sure about posting these pink Stuart Weitzman d'orsays, which are so cute but so similar in shape to the Louboutins and Zanottis I've put up in the past few days. But they were too adorable to resist so I just decided I'd put up two pairs worth lusting over tonight. It's been a tough day (see earlier post) so we all deserve it. These Weitzmans are simple, but as with many pairs of shoes, the color totally elevates them. It screams femininity, and would make simple trousers or a sheath dress sparkle. Also, I'm finding I really love evening shoes without an ankle strap, because that strap makes less-than-perfect ankles look chubby. The ankle strap is also kind of shortening.

On the other hand, these Sigerson Morrison pumps are pure sex, in a rather obvious, but still totally viable way. They're rawr shoes. But they can still totally work the "Lady in the sitting room...you-know-where-I'm-going-with-this" vibe. Both pairs at Nordstrom.com.

back to school

One day back and I'm already in heart attack mode.

But, I did want to post on the super-simple face routine I've been doing that has pretty much cleared up all of the little stress-related breakout on my forehead. My skin is normally clear, but once in awhile my anxiety flares and I'll get annoying little whiteheads and reddish bumps. In the summer I usually use plain old Dove bar soap (I know everyone points out how ridiculously bad this is, but it's always worked for me) and Neutrogena moisturizer (with sunscreen!). Sometimes this routine works in the winter, but this year it feels extra dry and I've switched to Cetaphil's gentle cleanser for dry skin (it's this stuff). I spend a good two minutes doing a nice face massage while washing, which is soothing and leaves me all glowy. I'm also using this creme instead of my normal lotion. I borrowed it from my mom one day while I was home over break and find that it's really quite good, although ultra-hydrating so not really for those without dry skin. I don't know if it's keeping me young, but I sort of doubt the anti-aging qualities of most cosmetics. The price tag (I paid about 15$ for two ounces at Walgreens) is more than I generally spend on skin stuff, since I'm spoiled and usually spent almost nothing for bars of soap and less than 10$ a bottle for four ounces of the Neutrogena, but it's working wonders. I've also been doing it twice a day, rather than my normal about three times over two days. If you've got dry skin I really would recommend either product or both. The drawback to the Jason creme is that it doesn't have a sunscreen, so you need one in addition.

Now if I could only figure out what to do with the almost-invisible blackheads on the side of my nose. Product recommendations?

perfect for vacuuming

I considered not posting these, because like the Hollywoulds from a couple of days ago they have a bit of a nautical flair, BUT, they're so cute I couldn't resist. Oy with the peeptoes already, I know, but I think it's such a cute look with a great pedicure, and decidedly retro with the right skirt. And I'm definitely about retro. These are Giuseppe Zanotti (thanks S for turning me on to his fantastic shoes) pumps that I found on piperlime. By the way, piperlime has really excellent service and anything that comes in the mail from them looks like a present, down to the lime-printed interior of the UPS box and the card stock envelope containing the order invoice.

i don't look like it, but i'm totally listening

My mother, like many mothers, raised me not to listen in on other people's conversations. As a child, if I deemed it appropriate to comment upon her private chats, let alone (!) insert myself in medias res, I was practically begging to be grounded from my books (I was a nerd then too). But what about when people are just begging you to hear the juicy bits?

Planning to move back into my sorority house, I scheduled an early haircut (same cut in the city costs twice as much, that's not the sort of household economy I'd like to touch). When I arrived about five minutes late, around nine, the ladies were still readying themselves for the day, procuring breakfast from the sandwich shop next door, unpacking cases full of equipment, and generally yawning their way into a busy Sunday. In fact, I almost felt intrusive, as though I had entered a domestic scene.

After a decent wash (the shampoo girl seems afraid to scrub, perhaps scrubbing is bad for the scalp or hair?), I sat in my usual stylist's chair. And then she and the other ladies proceeded to gossip intently for the forty minutes my cut and blow dry lasted. None of the gossip was offensive, but it was very personal and included a vague description of a client and discussion of her skin infection. In the end, although I thought the woman in question was a bit rude based on the events described in the chatter (she had apparently waited until after a vigorous shampooing to alert the stylists about the infection), I wondered about how I might feel if I had committed a social blunder. True, I would never, ever commit this particular etiquette/beauty sin, but, still. These ladies had viper tongues, and I definitely wouldn't want them to be pointed in my direction.

Is it ever okay for a stylist to gossip about one client in front of or with another client? I'm going with no, even if salacious salon gossip is a tradition. Some traditions (kissing strangers under mistletoe?) ought to be taken out of rotation.

The cut is really cute, although it's the shortest I've ever had.

perfect for vacuuming

Don't these just scream Nantucket housewife? Bring on the pearls. Okay, maybe it's just me, but these Hollywould navy Esther slingbacks are total nautical fantasy.

Oh, and Will Smith really ought to stop making movies. Even if he tells a cute dog to eat his vegetables or else in the film.

leggings* are not for ladies

* = At least not leggings as pants.

Internet, honey, if you're out there, I don't want to be yet another ranter about how leggings ought to go away and hide under for a rock for another fifty thousand years, if not forever. No, that's almost obvious. They're not pants. They're glorified tights. They can be worn to the gym. They can be worn under a cute frock with suitable shoes (read, covering up the leggings), but otherwise, they somehow remind me of mimes. And mimes basically prove that "chic" and "lovely" are not synonymous with "French".

Feeling particularly frumpy (and for once, ignoring my own style mantra, "feel your worst, look your best"), I headed to the mall to pick up the new eyeglasses I ordered last week (ivory and tortoise shell rectangular plastic frames...very mid-century, very striking). And I wore this: black leggings, black satin flats (eek! bare ankles, not very chic, not very warm), a grey tee shirt and a black men's Polo sweater I swiped from my father over the holidays. I didn't exactly feel cute, but at least it wasn't sweatpants. Okay, who am I kidding? The only sweatpants I own are royal blue and tie with a ribbon. Not exactly out-and-about material. But then again, this outfit probably wasn't either.

I would have been fine if I had kept to my goal, just to pop into Lenscrafters and leave, but the residual clearance sales beckoned and soon my mother and I were trolling the mall like suburban housewives, snapping up three dollar tank tops and inexpensive accessories while sipping coffees. And then, I caught myself in a dressing room mirror.

It's not as thought I looked truly wretched. I mean, I think most people are right when they say twenty-somethings can leave the house in rags and still look radiant. The first flush of youth or something else equally silly. No, I didn't disgust myself. But I didn't feel happy either. It might take work to match the perfect patent leather heels with a lovely pair of trousers and cute top, but it sure beats that moment when you realize you're wearing leggings out.

It's not like I don't take time with my appearance regularly. In fact, 99% of the time I do, even waking up early to do so. My ex-roommate used to treat me like a museum piece, pointing out to visitors that before showering I would lay out an entire outfit, from underwear and shoes to jewelry and lip color, on my bed. Okay, it's obsessive. And once in a blue moon (like yesterday) I rebel against my own exacting fashion routine, donning a truly frumpy outfit.

I just usually don't have to see myself in a three way mirror after doing so.

Let's just say I won't be having any more frumpy days, unless I require medication or my grades are at extreme risk. And then I still won't wear leggings as pants.

perfect for vacuuming

I'm guessing I have some kind of bow/peeptoe fetish. I'll have to look into that. Valentino patent half d'orsay.


Not into peeptoe shoes? How about white sheets? Collarbones (Adam Davies The Frog King got me totally fascinated with this one)? Any delicious obsessions?

a handful of goals

1 - Hand write a thank you note for every gift or thoughtful favor (easiest to do by sitting down on Saturday mornings after kickboxing and doing all at once).

2 - Cook dinner at least three times every week.

3 - Never leave house in leggings again (more on this in next entry).

4 - Senior cookie breaks, every two weeks (more on this sometime).


Currently Making: Peanut Butter Cookies (Joy of Baking)


Today's Perfect for Vacuuming:


That color. That bow. Every time I see these I reconsider that career in investment banking. Or marrying rich.

P caught these on Oprah today (that's where the image is from) so I'm not quite sure where you could get them if yellow satin Louboutin slingbacks fit into your discretionary budget.