Today's Obsession: F21 Activewear

Remember back in the day when Limited, Too was the one and only cool place for clothes? Everyone had the same pajama bottoms from there and the same pleated denim mini skirt (what were we thinking?).

Forever 21 is the grown up Limited, Too. Only I’m betting it’s probably cheaper. I love Forever 21 for a variety of reasons. They certainly are up-to-date on the most recent trends and they’re prices are amazing, but the quality : cost ratio is oftentimes downright terrible.

I’ve found that it’s best to stick to what I know is good. And thus far, I’ve narrowed that down to Forever's $10.50 skinny jeans (love), their bras and their Love 21 line, which features more “conservative” styles and is basically classier stuff in better fabrics and pastel, pretty colors. It’s all meant to fit your body, not mutate it.

I haven’t checked out Forever’s recent activewear section, though, and I must admit that they have cranked out a bunch of cute, colorful stuff. As I mentioned before, wearing bright workout clothes helps to motivate me to actually, you know, work out.

I’m typically a fan of the Nike goods, but I got to say, this cami top quickly caught my eye. I love the spaghetti straps and the slightly-sexy, just-a-little-extra-skin back. (Also, a shout-out to their halter top. Too many options!) My only beef is that I wish it came in more colors (pink gives me a headache… where’s the blue? Green?). Plus, if it came in blue, it could match their black and blue biker shorts. Obsessed.

Forever 21 Athletic Cami Top, $12.80

The Perfect 10 Workout: Hot Yoga

I was looking through some of the ASME award finalists yesterday and came across an article from O Magazine last year.

The piece was a two-part series about this woman who subjected herself to the 60 day Bikram challenge. She was at a bad place in her life and decided to force herself to spend 90 minutes a day in a 105-degree, 40 percent humidity room, stretching and sweating. She measured the before and after and the results were pretty impressive, especially given that she didn’t do one traditional workout—no dung bells, no treadmills, nothing. Just stretching and sweat.

I did a little research and Bikram yoga, commonly referred to as “Hot Yoga,” is a little different than other methodologies. The founding guru, Bikram Choudhury, studied yoga from a young age and developed this methodology. He then founded the Bikram Yoga College of India, which isn’t necessarily in India; any Bikram-accredited yoga studio is part of it.

I’m intrigued by Bikram more than other methods of yoga because of the results. Most yoga strategies help with concentration, focus, balance and general wellbeing, but Bikram advocates a bit more.

Bikram yoga incorporates 26 traditional Hatha Yoga postures and two breathing exercises. But the studios are usually very simplistic (no chanting or incense) and have mirrors so that all yogis can see themselves and constantly perfect their style. The classes are 90 minutes long, but yogis are required to stay in the room. I’m not kidding here; I just looked at one of the waivers and that point is clearly stated among the other details that basically say, “If you die, it’s your fault.” Intense.

But the benefits are supposed to be tenfold (Perfect for my ten obsession). Because you’re sweating so much, you’re literally sweating out your body’s toxins. And the poses supposedly stretch, tone and/or utilize every muscle and almost every organ. For detailed information about the specific benefits of each pose, check out this site. Looking at those pictures, I’m sure an additional benefit is increased limber-ness. And then, of course, there’s the mental exercise of challenging oneself to stay in the room. That right there is a workout in itself.

My minor asthma goes funky in heat and humidity, but that’s actually part of the reason I’m intrigued by the idea of Bikram yoga. What if I could challenge myself, push myself enough to the limit that I could control my own asthma? That’d be pretty awesome. And I’m sure the high from the intense workouts is much better than the jittery, uncontrollable high from an inhaler. Ick.

There are great first-timer discounts. But I want to try out all my options. So I plan on doing a variety of yoga styles before settling (hopefully) on one. I’ll use my free week at YogaWorks, experimenting, and then I’ll take advantage of the Bikram Yoga Manhattan studio that’s right at Penn Station, a 10-minute walk away.

By the time I’m back in Boston, I can decide whether to commit to Back Bay Yoga or Bikram Yoga Boston. Choices, choices, choices… Hopefully Daddy is willing to help with the membership charges, as well.

Wedding Fever

There is so much Royal Wedding fever going on, it’s insane. On the one hand, I think it could be kind of un-patriotic for an American to go googly-eyed over the royal nuptials, what with us being founded on the concept of rejecting royalty. I get it, that’s all politically correct and whatnot.

But I also grew up in the Disney era, so let’s get real. Some middleclass student is getting swept off her feet by a real life Prince Charming. Well… maybe not charming. I don’t think he’s the best looking guy in the world. But whatever, he’s a prince. And Kate Middleton is admittedly gorgeous.

Being a frequent visitor to theknot.com, I can appreciate the importance of the wedding. It’s actually pretty darn awesome. But that doesn’t mean I’ll be waking up at 5 in the morning, dragging my girlfriends out of bed and hosting a Royal Wedding Tea and Coffee Viewing Party.

I like the Kate Middleton fever, though. In the least, it’s exciting to know that I will witness (via TiVO) one of the most important weddings of the century. That’s pretty darn snazzy, if you ask me.

And in the spirit of wedding fever, I also love this blog post on Kappa Kappa Gamma’s website about common Kappa traditions during their nuptials. I love the idea of wearing my pin (wherever it is!) on the inside of my dress or on my bouquet. And I must say, I would burst out in tears if my girls started singing “Oh Pat” during my reception. But then again, it’s a ways off. Like, a decade.

To Read or to E-Read; That is the Question

Seeing as I am an avid reader, there have been numerous opportunities when I have had the option of buying some sort of e-reader. And while I love the designer covers for the Nook, I just haven’t really understood the appeal.

The other night over dinner, one of my sisters was talking about e-readers (we’re a nerdy bunch) and mentioned that while I’m in the Bahamas, I should bring a Kindle because the screens are anti-glare. I could read it on the beach without the grease and glare of a typical touch screen.

But then we both came to the realization that books themselves are anti-glare, too. No grease or grime, no glare and you don’t even have to charge them. I’ve mentioned before that I’m a fan of the vintage feeling of reading hard copy news. When I read it online, I tend to skip over uninteresting parts, or simply read the photo captions.

I’m kind of the same way with books, too. Not only do I love the organic, often moldy smell of books, but I like having them, holding them, owning them. I find libraries difficult because I can’t stand to part with my books. Since I first fell I love with literature, I’ve dreamed of collecting an expansive library.

I want to have and hold physical books, to admire them and be able to reference them at a later date. I want to look at that copy of Eat, Pray, Love and feel inspired. For some reason, looking at a Nook or a Kindle or an iPhone just doesn’t have the same effect.

And then, of course there’s the tiny detail that I scribble all over my books. I like taking notes and underlining interesting or inspiring passages, so that when I go back and read the book again (which I actually do. You notice things differently the second or third or fourth time around), I can feel the same inspiration that I felt the first time.

I should, however, note that I do think that e-readers are generating new fiction fanatics out of techie lovers. People who wouldn't typically read (or at least as much) are more inclined to because its easier, more accessible. More readers is never a bad thing, I must admit. Even if they're reading Twilight on an e-reader.

But personally, I guess I’m just not sold on the digital readers. Despite the minuscule discount on books and the fact that it saves trees, I don’t really see the benefits. Until the e-readers can bring something new and exciting to the reading experience, I don’t think they’re a good investment. Not for a die-hard vintage bibliophile like myself.

The Sky is Falling: Judg(e)ment Day

There are all these people in the subways and streets of New York prophesying about the end of the world and the second coming of Christ and yada yada yada. In case you haven't heard, the world ends May 21, 2011.

http://judgementday2011.com/

Of course, as my journalism professor points out, you'd think that someone smart enough to know about the coming Rapture would know not to spell judgment with an extra e. But hey, just in case, right?

On May 22, I'm going to party it up and celebrate. But just in case, here's my list of things I'm doing before then. Let's think of it as a short term Bucket List:

1. Going to the Bahamas.
2. Going on that lemonade diet.
3. Doing a week (or more!) of yoga.
4. Reading more.
5. Saying goodbye to Tash.
6. Eating chocolate.
7. Going to Brooklyn.
8. Eating a goodburger (noms).
9. Treating myself to either: website domain, MK watch, Zara shoes or bikini wax (don't be hatin').
10. Blogging all dayyy.

Random fun fact? This was totally taken on 34th and 7th. That makes me feel like a New Yorker that I know that :)

Joanna Coles Goes Gleek

A while back, I helped run a bunch of errands and was invited to be a fly on the wall during the filming of Joanna Cole's recent video on marieclaire.com!! Check it out: http://bcove.me/4ghdslel

Joanna Coles, Marie Claire EIC (and my not-so-secret role model)

Today's Obsession: Sweet Dreams

Back in the day, Bo and I used to wear sleep masks from Claire’s. They were so novel until the completely smashed your eyelashes and you woke up looking like you'd fallen asleep on the kitchen floor.

But anything from Claire’s can’t be a ten. I’ve been browsing the Inter-web looking at different sleep masks and they’re all so utterly adorable. I love this navy one that says “Night Owl” (hello… Kappa reference?) and the classic Breakfast at Tiffany’s remake. But I have to say that this Mary Green mask is my favorite.

With all that lace, it’s sexy, but oh so sweet as well, with the references to Paris and whatnot. I was at a party this weekend with a bunch of French guys and it made me so excited to travel to Paris next fall. I really do dream about it, and with this eye mask, the whole world will know. Total ten; obsessed.

The Inner Ten

You know how when you wear red lipstick, you go around with this goofy little mysterious smirk? It’s such a thrill, one can’t help but feel empowered.

Well underwear does the same thing. I skim Women’s Wear Daily in the mornings and they have a regular section called “innerwear,” completely devoted to covering fashion advancements in the nether regions. What I think people fail to realize is the power of underwear.

And no, I’m not talking about over other people (though I suppose it has that power, too). But I love wearing sexy underwear. It doesn’t matter who isn’t seeing it; I wear it for me. As I said before, if I can’t treat myself well, how can I expect anyone else to?

Applying the ten ideology to underwear is important, though, and often overlooked. When underwear/innerwear/whatever is sexy and fits properly, it can do wonders. And nothing gives a girl a smirk better than the secret knowledge that she’s sexy underneath, too.

It’s empowering. And when paired with red lipstick, it’s probably that much more intense. Here’s to us women and our sexy innerwear. May it always be a ten like we are.

Recipe: Spanish Potato Omelet

Happy Sant Jordi!! There are apparently some pretty standard things to eat on Sant Jordi, but they're all way too complicated for me. Plus, I just love love love breakfast, especially when it includes carbs. Unfortunately, I don't have a kitchen. But I might be commandeering someone else's to make this Spanish potato omelet from AllRecipes.com (noms). Then, it only makes sense to curl up with a book and chow down in order of the beloved St. George. Now that, dear friends, is a reason to celebrate.

Ingredients:

• 1/2 cup olive oil
• 1/2 pound potatoes, thinly sliced
• salt and pepper to taste (In my world, that's a lot)
• 1 large onion, thinly sliced
• 4 eggs
• 2 tomatoes; peeled, seeded and coarsely chopped
• 2 green onions, chopped

Directions:

1. In a large frying pan or skillet, heat olive oil over medium-high heat. Sprinkle potatoes lightly with salt and pepper. Cook until golden brown and crisp.
2. Once the potatoes are golden, stir in the onions. Cook, stirring occasionally, until onions soften and begin to brown.
3. Meanwhile, beat eggs together with salt and pepper. Pour eggs into pan and stir gently to combine. Reduce heat to low and cook until eggs begin to brown on the bottom.
4. Loosen bottom of omelet with a spatula, invert a large plate over the pan, and carefully turn the omelet out onto it. Slide the omelet back into the pan with the uncooked side down. Cook until eggs are set. Garnish omelet with tomato and green onion and serve warm.

For the Love of Music

I’ve always had a weird relationship with music. Back when I was a little more involved in it, I would hear harmonies in my head. I could sometimes hear two different songs playing at the same time. Even now, there’s always something playing in my head (Currently “Paperweight” by Joshua Radin).

I blame my mother. We used to joke that her grave stone would say something to the effect of “She had a song for everything.” Because, well, she has a song for everything. She knows the lyrics to every kind of song, from Simon & Garfunkle to WWII fight songs. And the smallest turn of a conversation, the most insignificant mention of a tiny detail could prompt her to sing. So I guess that’s where I get it.

You know how people say that scent is the sense most linked to memory, like you smell something and it’s as though you’ve jumped on a time machine. Like yesterday, for example, when I was walking home and got a whiff of Chanel #5, street grime, and hamburgers. And I felt like I was 15 again, walking down Thayer Street in Providence.

But I’m that way with music, too. Songs remind me of people, that’s a given. People I thought about while listening to them, people who burned me the CD, people whom I went to concerts with. It goes beyond remembering people though. Listening to certain songs sends me back to events, feelings, phases in my life. One verse of Black Eyed Peas’ “I Gotta Feeling” and I’m back in my ex boyfriends car the summer of 2009, driving through San Diego with outrageous sunglasses on and dancing in our seats, despite the seat belt’s determination to keep us still.

When I hear Ben Folds' “Luckiest,” I’m teleported back to fall of my freshman year of college, when my life was very (very) different. I’m sitting on my bed-slash-desk in Melvin Hall with my heated blanket because the heater was horrible. I’m pining for the first guy I ever thought I might marry. And reading every free second I could.

And whenever I hear The Script’s “For the First Time,” I’ll be reminded of my time in New York.

Music has a way of comforting me, of reminding me. I once wrote this essay about Ghanaian culture, about how much their lives revolved around music. And then I related my own stories and my own connection to music and ultimately argued that I, too, was Ghanaian. Pasty white Ghanaian, but African nonetheless.

 

Today's Obsession: Living Luxe

I’ve been trying to be good lately about, well, everything. I’ve cleaned out my closet (mostly), eliminated clutter (mostly), and been on a health kick (as long as you don’t count the daily chocolate binge and ice cream for breakfast). But really…

The lovely Laura Max Nelson has also got me obsessing about yoga, which I’m not even that big on. But she has a blog that she keeps updated about the Boston yoga scene and I feel like I’m majorly missing out. After our Bahamas adventure (Eek!), when Tash has left the city (anti-eek!) and I have nothing to do, I am detoxing. I’m taking this ten thing and applying it to everything, including myself. I will be a ten. I will look good, feel good, and actually be good. And here’s how:

• For starters, I will already have a super awesome tan from the Bahamas; that’s enough to make any girl happier.
• I will become familiar with my running shoes. The weather has been gorgeous and I could really do with a Hudson river run every morning.
• I have these coupons for personal training sessions (my job pays me in coupons) and a week-long gym membership that I will use to strengthen my core.
• And I have another coupon for a week-long membership at a yoga studio, which I will use to calm myself down. My dad is bringing my yoga mat with him when he comes next week.
• I might even (gasp!) de-activate my Facebook for a week or two or a month.
• There’s also this detox flush cleanse diet that I’m intrigued by. I don’t really care about losing weight, but during the diet, you literally flush all your toxins (down the toilet). It’s part inspiring and part disgusting, which is why I’ll be doing it when Tash isn’t here anymore.

One of my favorite things about health kicks are the clothes. Having cute workout clothes is part of the equation, because when you look good (like a ten, maybe?), you actually want to work out. I love my crazy colored Nike goodies. “Just do it” is the worlds greatest mantra. But I also find these Bling Yoga Shorties from Victoria’s Secret just as inspiring. VS actually has a TON of yoga goodies, from pants to shirts that say “Live Luxe” to yoga underwear that goes undetected under all that butt-hugging spandex.

But really… These shorties are adorable. Good for hot, summer yoga or for running, and just teeny enough to be inspiring, as well. Because no one wants to wear short shorts when they don’t look good. Plus, they have rhinestones, and who can argue with that. Obsessed.

Victoria's Secret – Bling Yoga Shorties, $29

List: And The Nominees Are...

In honor of the Sant Jordi holiday, I’ve compiled a list of literary Marian awards. My favorites in a variety of genres, broken down and spewed back out in all their Brain Barf glory. And the winners are… 

The Honorable Mention goes to Curtis Sittenfeld’s American Wife, which dramatizes the history and complexity of Laura Bush’s life, including the mysterious death of her high school boyfriend. In a freakish way, it also helps to humanize the George Bush character. Sittenfeld has a way of writing so dryly that it’s almost exhausting to read. I devour her books and then am basically comatose for days. They are emotionally draining probably because they are so realistic. Either way, when I finished this book and belatedly realized that it was based loosely on Laura Bush, I started googling her like a madwoman. Turns out she’s everything I respect in a woman: educated, poised, compassionate. She just ended up with a goof of a husband.

Best Chick Lit goes to Jane Austen’s Pride and Prejudice. Call me cliché, but this was a hard category. I just don’t read all that much chick lit. But what is more chick-litty that a classic like Pride and Prejudice? It’s got the scandal, the romance, the wit, the comedy. The town beauty and the brainy sister. Everything is there to fulfill the chick lit category, so I’m sticking with it. 

Best Beach Read goes to Janet Fitch’s White Oleander, which for some reason unbeknownst to me is never on the “contemporary classics” table at bookstores. This book is addicting. It’s disgusting and gritty and pulls the reader in from every angle. When I was analyzing it in high school, I noticed Fitch’s numerous references to music when describing people. It would be casual… Like, as she’s describing what someone is wearing, she mentions the song playing in the background. But when I nerdily (not a word. Whatever) looked up the songs, they capture each character’s personality perfectly. I dub it a beach read because the heat of the sun will make the Santa Ana references throughout the book that much more believable. You can stimulate you senses by both feeling the sun and listening to the music, and drown in the story. Bahh it’s amazing. 

Best Self Help goes to Laura Kipnis’ Against Love, which I admittedly never finished—Not because it wasn’t good, but because it takes a while to digest and I have too many books to read right now. But I like the message that Kipnis argues in her polemic: that love doesn’t exist. Not really, at least. Because love wouldn’t compel us to hurt others. I call it a self help because I think it’s liberating. I consider myself a romantic, which can be immobilizing at times. It’s best to be a little removed from the romance, at least to protect myself, no? For now, at least... 

Best Travel Writing goes to Elizabeth Gilbert’s Eat, Pray, Love (duh). This book is almost too obvious, but I take it with me everywhere so I need to mention it a little. Gilbert’s story captures so perfectly her sense of self. With her stories broken down into short little anecdotes, they are digestible. There’s variety because she travels through three different countries. Liz Gilbert made me want to be a writer. I stole her book from my mom, who got it for a book club. And I’ve hoarded it ever since. My copy (or mine now) is worn and torn and loved. It’s my bible, so to speak. It’s perfect. 

Best Historical Fiction goes to Colum McCann’s Let The Great World Spin, which dictates the story of numerous New Yorkers and their various reactions/involvement in the 1974 tight rope walk between the twin towers. The basis seems relatively simple, but then McCann reveals how each of the seemingly unconnected characters influence one another’s lives. It’s Six Degrees Theory meets the Vietnam War meets some super awesome French acrobat. I bought the book on a whim in the Netherlands and didn’t put it down. Ahh-mayzz-ing.

Best Dystopia goes to Margaret Atwood’s The Handmaid’s Tale. I’ve never read any of Atwood’s other books, but I definitely will now. While it takes too long to summarize this baby, suffice to say that Atwood’s feminist rant definitely has an impression on any female reader. The leading lady is name Offred. Meaning “of Fred.” Sad, sick, and twisted. You won’t put it down.

Best Laugh-Out-Loud Comedy goes to Hilary Winston’s My Boyfriend Wrote a Book About Me. Comes out May 3, more info about it later. But I basically peed my pants. It’s made for any woman who has had her heart broken, has ever dated someone who turned out to be gay, anyone with a sense of humor, and especially those of us who own/love cats. Hilarious, hilarious, hilarious. Pre-order it from Amazon stat.

Best Gritty Memoir goes to Margaux Gragoso’s Tiger, Tiger, which I can’t bring myself to put down. It’s like watching a car crash, only instead of witnessing a massive, unfeeling ball of steel mash into another, I’m witnessing a young girl die inside and wither away. It’s both gross and engrossing and probably one of the most mind-numbing (in a good way) books I’ve ever read. It’s sad to see the manipulation of the modern Humbert and the raw emotion of the young Lolita-slash-Margaux. It’s dirty and gritty and sad, but what’s sadder is that the young Margaux truly does love her pedophile, in the simplest, sickest way imaginable. Oof.

Happy (early) Sant Jordi!

Happy Sant Jordi!!

Ever heard of La Diada de Sant Jordi? The holiday takes its name from St. George, the patron of Catalonia and it falls on the anniversary of his death. Every year on April 23rd, lovers in Catalonia, Spain exchange gifts in a celebration similar to Valentine’s Day. Traditionally, boys give girls roses and girls give boys books. Roses have been associated with the holiday since Medieval times, but the incorporation of books is more recent. In 1923, a bookseller began to advertise the holiday as a way to commemorate the deaths of two renowned authors: Spain’s Miguel de Cervantes and Britain’s William Shakespeare. Both men died April 23, 1616.

Catalonians took to the trend and some celebrate by doing 24-hour marathon readings of Cervantes’ Don Quixote. Others flock to Las Ramblas, Barcelona’s main thoroughfare, to take advantage of the numerous makeshift stands selling flowers and books. Throughout the day, some four million roses and 400,000 books are purchased in celebration of love.

Literature and love? Count me in.

Catalan streets are lined with vendors selling roses and books to honor the Sant Jordi holiday.

Today's Obsession: Classic Porcelain

I have been vigorously researching info on the royal wedding today. And tea parties. And just this morning, I updated my twitter background to this romantic, shabby-chic lacy something-or-other.

The combined outcome of all this is that I am currently obsessed with lace. I don’t know how I would want to wear it or incorporate it, but I’ve been searching everything from “lace pillows” to “lace accessories” to “lace necklaces.” Surprisingly, there actually isn’t that much out there.

I’m so disappointed. I’ve been looking at tea doilies and wedding flowers all morning and now I can’t get my lace fix. No bueno.

Instead, today’s obsession is this white porcelain tea set. My sorority recently had a tea party and everyone got all dressed up in dresses and hats (so cute!). And I’ve written before about how vintage-y tea and tea sets are.

On my little retro-glam kick right now, this seems to work well. I drink tea pretty much every day, so why not do it in (affordable) style? Here’s to us, even if we’re not marrying princes. We lovely ladies can toast whatever we want. As I like to remind myself, I don’t need a reason to celebrate. Obsessed.

Porcelain Tea Set – Diana, $40

What I'm Reading: A Modern Lolita

Given that I’m a youngster, and typically date people significantly older than I, I’ve been nicknamed Lolita by more than one person in my life. It’s flattering to a degree, but mostly creepy. Nonetheless, I like the nickname because it’s an indication that the nickname-giver reads Russian novels.

When I first read Nabokov’s Lolita, I devoured it. I always keep a book in my purse and during my breaks at work, I would sneak into the back corner of the employee lounge with my latte and read about Humbert.

For those who don’t know the story, Lolita is about a man, Humbert Humbert, and his love for the little girl, Lolita. It’s a story of lust and abuse and coercion and pedophilia. But it’s a love story, too.

I realize that I sound like a freak talking about such a terrible subject. But there’s a reason why the book is considered a contemporary classic; Nabokov’s writing is sensational. The book, written from Humbert’s perspective, manages to take the readers morals, stick them in a blender and hit puree.

Terrible as it is, I found myself rooting for Humbert in his reckless pursuit of Lolita. After all, she loved him, right? It wasn’t until I started discussing the story in a group setting that I realized how loony I sounded. I, the reader, was coerced because I was only looking at the story through Humbert’s perspective and narration. I failed to consider Lolita’s story.

But Lolita’s story is out, under the “pen name” Margaux Fragoso. Just kidding… kind of. In Fragoso’s recently released memoir, Tiger, Tiger she recants her relationship with Peter. Peter provided her a loving environment, an escape from reality. And he provided her love, from the time she was 7, when she met him, until she was 22, when he killed himself.

Written with a mix of the naivety of an abused child and the wisdom of a retrospective woman, the tale is chilling, to say the least. I’m only six chapters in, and already hooked. I think what strikes me most about Fragoso’s writing is that it’s so emotionally removed and jaded.

She describes spending time with Peter as being "like a drug high....They can make the child's world ecstatic somehow. And when it's over, for people who've been through this, it's like coming off of heroine and, for years, they can't stop chasing the ghost of how it felt."

While Nabokov’s novel swept me up in the passion of the moment, the normal-ness with which Fragoso describes innocently kissing a middle aged man (when she was 7) has the same jarring effect.

I’ll keep you posted as I work my way through her older years. But woah.

Margaux Fragoso's Tiger, Tiger, $26

Struggling with Buyer's Remorse?

I went shopping yesterday. I ripped my pants SpongeBob style and needed a pair of new jeans so I braves the Times Square madness to hit up Forever 21. I found my $10 go-to jeans in about 3.2 seconds, but continued to look around the store. I found this pair of shorts I've been lusting after online for weeks (damn you online shopping!) and thought I'd hit the jackpot.

I didn't bother trying on my jeans because their the same jeans I always buy that slowly fade from dark wash to overly-loved. They're a total ten. For $10. A win all around.

And I didn't bother trying on the shorts because the lines for the dressing room were longer than the checkout lines (Why do tourists insist on shopping at Forever, of all places?). Big mistake.

I also hit up Victoria's Secret, but left empty handed, and Zara, my new obsession. When I got home and tried on the shorts, they were--how do you say--unflattering? Terrible? Disgusting? Fat? Needless to say, I will be returning them, unfortunately only for store credit. They were a two. Mayybe.

It was funny... when I was buying my jeans, I felt so good. I was on a buyers high, so when I saw the shorts, the ten mentally slipped a little bit. And it ruined my night. I couldn't even enjoy my time at Zara, where I found these perfect black pumps that were super comfortable, my size and on sale. I passed them up.

The post-buy high and subsequent crash were partly due to the fact that this is the first time I've bought myself any clothes in the city. But to see that hard-saved cash wasted is a punch to the throat. Oof. Here's hoping my lesson is learned.

The upside, of course, is that my jeans look fabulous, not fat.

Today's Obsession: Perfect 10 Ring

On my way home yesterday, I stopped by a shoe store because I felt inspired to look at some summer-y shoes. I found this pair of teal leather espadrilles that would have been perfect for the Bahamas, but the quality of the heel was, to put it kindly, utter crap. So as painful as it was (and it was), I left the store. But I made the right decision. I’m keeping this 10 streak going.

Part of the book I mentioned included a section on jewelry. For someone who identifies their style as “classic” (me—or at least that’s the goal), they advise to keep the jewelry simple. Typically, just a classic black leather watch and a pair of diamond studs. Now, I’ve done the black leather watch (I’ve had the same one since 8th grade) so I’m going shoot that one down. Instead, I’ll just keep to my beloved Michael Kors gem.

And while there’s no way in hell that I will be getting diamond studs anytime soon, I do like the idea of simplistic jewelry. This weekend, I went through and collected bags of clothes and jewelry (many stolen impulsively from work) to give to friends/donate. As cute as they were for one outfit, they take up too much room to justify keeping.

I’m leaning towards the simplicity. Blame my Buddhist-loving boyfriend and his simplistic style :). But with the right goods, simple doesn’t have to equate to being “plain.” I’m thinking my basics should include my pearls (duh), my soon-to-be-mine Michael Kors watch, my gold Aldo French hoops that I wear all the time, and a ring.

I’ve been scouring etsy for estate rings this morning. I want something simple, but still unique, and something quintessentially me. My girl Laura has this David Yurman ring that is to DIE for (and so very her). And my beloved J actually collects and wears different wedding bands; they’re all a little unique.

While I send a heartfelt shout-out to this key ring from Kappa, my version–or what I like today at least–is this gold and pearl ring. The price tag isn’t too ridiculous and I like that it matches my sorority pin (R.I.P. wherever you are). Pearls are actually my birthstone, so there’s an added bonus. Plus, the gold would tie into the MK watch, even if I wear the ring on my right hand.

I’m trying to eliminate outlandish pieces. No matter how fulfilling the original response, there are reasons why trends are “trends.” Gold and pearls are genuine classics and always have been. TSM, perhaps. But we can’t help it if we’re klassy. Obsessed.

The Pearls of Lord – engagement ring, $380

Starbucks :)

Random fun fact? I used to interpret book characters by what drink I think they'd order at Starbucks. I was a barista for a year and you can tell a lot about a person based on what they order.

My drink varies (one of three. Thank you, Salad Dressing Syndrome). Today's choice?? Grande nonfat salted caramel hot chocolate with an added shot, only three pumps of toffee nut, light whip, extra hot.

The interpretation: sweet and strong, with a little bit of fluff and a lot of flavor. What do you order?

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Today's Obsession: Tory Burch

I’m on a shoe kick. But I’m not apologizing. One should never apologize for shoes.

The other day, I was walking through East Midtown with my beloved mentor and his amazing wife. Anyway, the wife and I got talking about shopping and clothes and she pointed out a pair of Tory Burch flats a girl was wearing that looked utterly terrible. They were too big and the elastic on the back made them look really uncomfortable. Definitely not a 10.

I didn’t hop on the Tory Burch bandwagon like everyone else did. My $12 K-Mart flats seemed to hold up pretty well, with the exception of losing a couple gems. So I couldn’t justify spending triple digits on shoes.

But alas, this Perfect 10 kick is changing my perspective. I’ll admit that I do think TB flats are attractive. And this patent pair is lined in the elastic. They call it “sporty;” I call it chic. The matte against the patent is great. And to top it off, the metal logo is partly black, which I like a TON more. It hints that it’s Tory Burch without outright screaming it to the world. Obsessed.

Tory Burch patent caroline ballet flat, $225

Today's Thoughts on 10

So I’ve been thinking a little more about this 10 concept (I get a little caught up in things sometimes and they tend to rule my life)...

I realized—gasp!—that I really shouldn’t be shopping online. Unless, of course, I’m willing to pay return fees for anything that comes and isn’t a 10. This sounds like it’s no a big deal, but SO much of my shopping is done online. It’s what I do to waste my time (well, that and blog). Shopping online boosts my creative juices.

Actually, sometimes after being online, I’ll get this idea of exactly what I want. Once that happens, nothing really comes close to being a 10. For example, despite today’s beautiful weather, I’m set on finding an envelope collar winter white wool coat. And I’ve found some amazing white coats, like this one on etsy and this one from Alloy, but they’re not perfect, even if they’re cheap.

Actually, in retrospect, I really like the one from Alloy.

This is hard.


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Today's Obsession: Scrabble Pillows

Hello, my pretties, and Happy Scrabble Day! I was browsing etsy and the Internet, because I know there’s tons of cute Scrabble jewelry out there, but then I wondered how often I would actually wear it.I grew up playing Scrabble with my mom, who's a beast. She has a vocabulary that would put anyone to shame. Plus, she has the Scrabble dictionary, which is just unfair.

Instead, I found these hilariously awesome (and oh-so-deliciously shabby chic) Scrabble pillows. The seller makes each pillow individually and you can get a set that spells out anything you like! Adorable, me thinks. I was thinking about where they'd look best, and I have to say that'd probably be back home in San Diego. I have a special outdoor couch that can always use more pillows (you can never have too many) and would look great with some kitchy Scrabble fun.

What if the pillows spelled out "WOOF?" Not only is it appropriate for me and my family, but the letters happen to score a perfect 10. Irony? I think not. Obsessed.

4 Letter Pillows Inserts Included spelling out "WOOF" on etsy, $98

The Search for the Perfect 10

In the same book I referenced yesterday, the authors argue that no one should own anything less than a 10. It doesn’t matter which great aunt bought you your perfume; if it’s not a 10, you won’t wear it. So ditch it.

On the way home yesterday, I did a little strolling in and out of stores looking for something celebratory (again, I don’t need a reason to celebrate). But I went home empty-handed. I couldn’t get the 10 concept out of my head.

Imagine what your closet would look like if every clothing item you owned was a 10. It might not be so jam-packed, but the items in there would be quality. They would fit correctly and be timeless. They would go together effortlessly. It’s certainly inspiring and I spent my downtime yesterday looking at various “10” items, many in the triple digits.

But then I got thinking even more (I tend to think a lot). What if I never settled for anything less than a 10? What if I surrounded myself with nothing but the best of the best… Quality friends, boyfriends, primo wine, the best food and flavors, quality furniture.

What if I always gave a 10 on top of that? 100 percent into school and my extracurriculars. Going to the gym, taking a yoga class, painting and sketching again. It’s certainly a challenge, and exhausting. But how rewarding.

I mean, really… Why do we ever bother to settle in the first place? Why do I convince myself that the shoes will feel more comfortable after I “wear them in.” Why do I let myself be battered in a less-than-10 relationship?

Surrounding myself with 10s would be exhausting. It would be expensive. And it would be disheartening when it seems that I can’t find the perfect 10. But how rewarding, too. I’m a fan of quality over quantity, even if I am not a practicing member of the club. But maybe now is the time.

No more settling. Nothing but 10s.

Today's Obsession: Christian Louboutin

I did a post last week about classic clothes and investing in timeless pieces. As luck would have it, I just received a book manuscript for I Have Nothing to Wear by Jill Martin and Dana Ravich. And while I won’t divulge all that’s covered in the soon-to-come book, I will say that it tickled my fancy.

It kind of reminded me of another book, A Guide to Elegance: For Every Woman Who Wants to Be Well and Properly Dressed on All Occasions by Genevienve Antoine Dariaux. I haven’t actually read the title, but I’ve read excerpts (when I went on a rampage to find etiquette books). For a while, I’ve been trying to classy up my wardrobe by filling it with timeless pieces. The problem is I’m poor. Oh well.

Today’s obsession is an obvious timeless classic. Day-to-night black stilettos that aren’t too high or too pointy. Unfortunate confession? I actually don’t own a pair of simple black pumps. Rainbow, yes, but not black. They come in a variety of colors and shines, but classic black leather can go with jeans or a suit. And while these babies are a pretty penny, they have that famous red bottom. Ohhh so sexy. Obsessed.

Christian Louboutin – Simple 100 Pumps in black, $595

Breakup Guru's Guide for Girls

I’m no relationship expert, nor do I pretend to be. But I still get calls from girlfriends whenever they’re in a boy-related sitch. It always baffled me a little; I mean I’ve read about relationships, and certainly tried my hand at them. But, sadly I have an innate way of sabotaging them.

Retrospect is a beautiful thing. The perspective is very wise, but it’s also a slap in the face. As Cinderella sings, “You don’t know what you got ‘til it’s gone.” And oh have I abused boys and relationships without realizing that they’re spectacular until I’m left alone. Again.

The worst is that I do it to myself. I put up walls. I break up with people because I know I should, though I may not really want to. As a Gemini, there are two sides to all my stories. Unfortunately, one side tries to keep me from getting hurt and, as such, ruins my chances of being happy in a relationship, too.

Depressing brain barf aside, I realized that though I may not be a relationship expert, I’m quite the breakup guru. And though I may not have relationship success stories, I do have lots of super awesome single girl stories.

Downtrodden women from far and wide seek out my services to help them overcome the heartbreak. So now, ladies (gentlemen, this post is so not for you), I present to you the failproof guide to getting over it. Hold it dear. After all, I’m a guru.

1. Hide your iPod. Oof, nothing is worse than a mopey, post-breakup girl listening to love songs. No, no, no. No slow country music, no Ben Folds, no first dance songs. I have a playlist on my iTunes that is specifically for times like this. It’s the only thing I let myself listen to. Highlights include “Cheated” by Mike Posner and “A Toast to Men” by Willa Ford and “I Hate College (Remix)” by Sam Adams (“single doesn’t mean I’m looking for somebody”). It’s all fast-paced, pre-gaming music. No piano.

2. Head to the grocery store. This is great for a couple of reasons. First off, it’s a public place so it’s not like you’ll feel inclined to cry when you’re surrounded by vegetables and strangers. It’s also a major distraction; when I shop, there’re way too many lists going through my head to fit any drama. Lastly, though, it’s time to be comfortably with myself and feel inspired. I eat incredibly well that first night because I can go home and set aside the time. I call up girlfriends and make them asparagus (my fave) and something yummy. And stock up on alcohol. Whatever floats your boat.

3. Get angry. If there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that being angry is perhaps the best thing one can do to get over someone. Anger trumps sadness and heartbreak, and it motivates us to act more primal, to dare ourselves to don something crazy and hit the town. Anger is spiteful. But it’s liberating. In anger, there is freedom. So find some minor miniscule thing (or something to justifiably be angry about) and blow it up. Get angry and let it fill you. You can always apologize later.

4. Be selfish. This is my favorite part; I might even break up with someone just to have reason to indulge. Unfortunately, it’s also the part that many people overlook. Oftentimes during breakups, ladies are concerned about the other person being mean or hurt or attractive. The thing about a breakup, though, is that it’s a breakup. Break. Up. There aren’t two people to the equation anymore. It’s just you, baby.

The benefit of that is that all your focus can be on you. I always say that it’s important to treat yourself well because if you don’t, how can you reasonably expect anyone else to. Breakups are a time to renew one’s commitment to oneself and then take out the credit card.

Shop. Cook a steak. Go on a new diet. Buy a gym membership. Get a pedicure or a massage. The energy from breakups is amazing. Suddenly, you have all this time and money and energy that you’re not exerting on some smelly boy that you can finally splurge on yourself. I’ve never been skinnier than post-breakup. Never had better looking toe nails.

It’s important to note, however, that you’re not primping to try to “win him back.” Ack. If things work out down the line, good for you. But never assume they will. This is a time for you. Enjoy it. Read a book you’ve been putting off. Apply for a new job. Attend a wine tasting class… The list is endless.

5. Find your vice. Another favorite… this is the opportunity to do somethin’ crazy. Die your hair (my preferred method), get a tattoo, smoke a cigarette, dance on a table, make out with a stranger. Whatever. Harness that bad girl that we all have hidden not-so-deeply below the surface and go crazy. As a side note, the benefits of this step are multiplied when the devious deed is done whilst wearing red lipstick and liquid leggings… just saying.

6. Fill your time. I briefly mentioned this in the other posts, but finding something to fill your time with is crucial. One beloved friend combined this step with "Get angry" and started a blog about the breakup process. Another meditates and does yoga. Whatever it takes, find a way to fill your time. Alone time is thinking time is moping time. Not acceptable.

7. Be single. This one is important because there are so many people that jump from one relationship to another. Or, if you’re like me, you keep a couple of back-burner options, people who I can call up and rekindle something with so that I don’t feel so alone. It’s a problem, I know. And I hurt myself and others by doing it, which is why I stress this point.

Be single. It’s a time to revel in one’s awesomeness and stop to smell the roses. I like to tell myself that “happiness is a conscious decision.” And I genuinely believe that. There are times when making that decision is a little bit more challenging than others, but choose to be happy and you will be.

Ever notice that when you finally stop actively looking for someone, you find them? There's a sexiness to being so happy and nonchalant. And there's a strength in realizing that you don't need someone else to make you happy. I was once with someone who thought I was too independent. He wanted me to "need" him. I told him that the fact that I didn't need him, but chose to be with him anyway should say something more, but he disagreed. I broke up with him.

There is nothing wrong with being single, nothing wrong with girls' night outs and cooking for one. Be single. Savor it. You've got the rest of your life to spend sharing toothpaste with someone.

Today's Obsession: Faux Fur

Not that I can tell since I'm cooped up in my cubicle, but it's supposedly 75 degrees outside. I'm not wearing pants. Or tights. Scandalous, I know. And while it dips down to some lower temperatures this week, it looks like the snow/hail/whatever-weather.com-deems-as-"wintry-mix" is gone and spring has sprung.

And while I'm all about being forward-thinking, I figured this long winter deserved one last stand. So today's obsession is this faux fur pull-through scarf from some random infomercial (NOTE: the one pictured below is the wrong color). I got talking about fur with my grandmother this weekend and it got me thinking. This scarf has all the color to draw way too much attention, but is politically correct, too. Since I'll be living a mile from campus and walking to class, this baby will surely keep me warm next winter.

As an extra bonus, I think this applies to the past link about wearing classic clothes. From loin cloths to PETA demonstrations, fur has never gone out of style. The only difference is that it's cheap! Obsessed.

Luxe Rachel Zoe Faux Fur Pull-through Scarf in Red Fox (not pictured), $29

Today's Obsession: Paris Post-Its

Happy Post-It Day!! Say what? You didn’t know that April 6 was Post-It Day? Well shame on you for not going through all the most insane holidays and neurotically writing them down in your Lilly Pulitzer planner along with ideas for how to incorporate them into your equally neurotic blog.

I, on the other hand, do scour the internet on random holiday searches. Not that I ever really need a reason to celebrate, but I feel a bit more festive when I have one. Anywayyyy, as anyone who knows me or has seen the aforementioned Lilly Pulitzer planner (or my computer screen) can attest, I’m a bit of a Post-It freak. I write lists on them, I keep notes on them, I always try to mix up the colors (neon, never pastel).

And these Paris-themed sticky notes are absolutely adorable! I can’t take too much credit because my boss has them, but I’m nonetheless obsessed (that rhymed). I may actually have a crush on inanimate pieces of paper; let’s try not to judge. The Arc de Triumph, the Tour Eiffel, the Musee d’Orsay, "Oh my!!" Obsessed.

Paris Sticky Notes from Bas Bleu, $15

What I'm Reading: A Polemic

A long time ago in a galaxy far, far away (But really, it was four years ago in an office in Providence), there was a naïve little girl who have no clue what she wanted to do with her life. Actually, at that point, I--SPOILER ALERT: the little girl is me—was actually toying with the idea of being a classics major and working as a curator type. Boy was I wrong.
--
That fateful summer, I wasted away the first few friendless days shopping in the bookstore on Thayer Street. I picked up some Jane Austen fan lit, which was remarkably unremarkable, and this book called Full Frontal Feminism by Jessica Valenti. Valenti, who filled pages of empowering, but still well-organized, arguments with satire and sarcasm, inspired me.

And for our final assignment in a writing class that I signed up for because I hoped it would help my college application process, we had to write about a particular subject. Anything. Inspired by a chapter in Valenti’s book about sex education in schools, I started reading and researching. I collected everything from studies to song lyrics (“You and me baby aint nothing but mammals/ So let’s do it like they do on the Discovery Channel”) and compiled them haphazardly in a Word document, padded with personal anecdotes and experiences.
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That fateful day, I found myself cross-legged on the floor of my professor’s office, where we had printed, cut apart, and scattered all of my paragraphs. We then laboriously worked to fit them back together into paragraphs that flowed and presented my argument in an organized fashion.

There, on the floor of that office, Brain Barf was born.

Once my argument was a little more cohesive, my professor got to reading. And, to my unexpected happiness, was actually very happy with the outcome. She liked my voice and how I was very one-sided in my debate. She called it a polemic. And when I asked what in the world a polemic was (it admittedly sounds like a plague), she pulled down a book from her shelves, a book she suggested I read that I looked up on Amazon once and forgot about entirely.
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Last week, that book just so happened to be delivered to Marie Claire. So I’ve been reading. And while there’s so much personality in the writing that sometimes I have to wade through the “voice” to get to the point, I’m thoroughly enjoying it thus far.

"Will all the adulterers in the room please stand up?"

In Against Love: A Polemic, Laura Kipnis looks at love and all the problems that it creates. She looks at it like a social institution, but then goes further, evaluating it through the lens of Marxist institutional theory. While I haven’t gotten much further than the intro, I’m deeply fascinated by a book that incorporates a reader’s advisory. It’s as though Kipnis is daring the reader to challenge her.

And the writing style is, obviously, that of a polemicist. It’s one-sided and biased, but Kipnis acknowledges her lack of diversity in opinion and goes on to challenge contemporary thought anyway.

As a self-proclaimed romantic who’s enough of a realist to realize that my thoughts are just that—romantic—I’m finding it immensely entertaining. However, it's also a bit depressing at times; comparing a relationship to the Industrial Revolution can have that affect. I’ll keep you posted.

Against Love: A Polemic by Laura Kipnis, $11.20

Today's Obsession: Flying Pigs

As much as I love it, New York still admittedly has a way of wearing me down. Maybe it's the fact that it's snowing. Still. In April. Or maybe it's the fact that I don't eat. Or that I'm poor. Or that there's no levity to my day. Maybe it's the fact that my person is here, while my life is still in Boston. Or the catcalls at 9 a.m. on a Tuesday morning (really? Does that ever work out for you?). Maybe it's the fact that every time I leave someplace people ask me if I'll be safe getting home. Or the fact that even if I'm in the biggest city, I still interact with few, if any, people and curl up alone with the silence to lull me to sleep.

But then I remember this is New York, home of glittering lights and eccentric freakshows. People write songs about this place and drop everything to move from their podunk little towns to come here. Lives and love and jobs are centered around this tiny island. Here, in this slummed down city of grit and grime are some of the shiniest celebrities and skyscrapers. There's history written everywhere. And everywhere, there's history being written.

Here, on this Sepia-tinted island of the schizophrenics, it's easy to forget the positives. But the truth is that I do love New York. And I also love New York art. I'm not talking about the Met or MoMA. I mean real New York art that captures this place.

And while I give a big shout-out to this cuff bracelet, which has a taste of New York, I've been long-obsessed with this art piece. According to the artist description... "Made with actual vintage New York Times front pages, found paper, paint, tissue, cutout letters and even a few dollar bills, this piece is an original take on the MTA Subway Map, incorporating not only the subway lines but the noisy, jumbled scrapbook of neighborhoods and districts."

I have no clue what the original piece went for and it's not available, but there are relatively cheap print copies which, when matted and framed, would be pretty darn snazzy. The best part of all, I have to say, is the flying pig. As Post columnist Cindy Adams would say, "Only in New York, kids. Only in New York." Obsessed.

New York City Subway 8 x 10 paper print on etsy, $20

A (Not So) Far-Off Future... My List of When-I-Get-the-Chances

So remember that list of ShouldaWouldaCouldas? (By the way, I totally forgot to add being in the Marines to that list)…

On a seemingly unrelated note, both my parents had very interesting, very different childhoods. Without going into too much detail, each had their pros and cons. So it’s interesting to take that knowledge and look back at my own upbringing. Without my parent’s experiences (both good and bad), I would have been raised differently, as well.

Anyway, I finished reading a book recently called A Reading Promise by Alice Ozma which comes out the first week in May. Anyway, it just got me thinking about fathers and daughters and raising kids in general. And while I know that I’m light years (please) from having kids, I still know there are some things I’ve taken from my childhood that I will apply to my own kids. And there are also those things that I didn’t necessarily experience but that I think I might have benefited from.

So now, for no apparent reason, and just because I want to, here’s a list of things I hope to do for my kid(s). It’s the opposite of my ShouldaWouldaCouldas; it’s my When-I-Get-The-Chances:

• I will read to my kids. I will read out loud to them. I will read next to them. I will read at them. I will drown those darn spawn in all the classics. And the non-classics. And the funnies. Whatever it takes, my kids will appreciate the written word.
• I will teach my kids about religion. Note, I will not necessarily bring them up in a religion. I can’t help but feel it’s a little hypocritical of me to do that when I’m so religiously ambiguous. But they will go, however begrudgingly, on Christmas and Easter, decked out in the most ridiculous, foofy outfits I can get my hands on. They will know the importance of religion.
• I will ask my kids to write. It doesn’t matter what they write or for how long, but I want my kids to keep some sort of journal. I realize that asking kids to do that is near impossible, but I will do everything in my power to make it happen. And part of that means giving them privacy. However tempting, I will never read my children’s journals without their approval. In those pages, they can say whatever they like, they can vent and complain and share the intimate details of their way-too-young-to-be-having-sex lives. It will be for their eyes and theirs alone.
• I will hug them. This seems like an obvious, but I still love hugs and kissed form my parents. My kids will feel that same love.
• I will teach them. This seems obvious, too. But I mean really teach them. I will be one of those psycho moms buying Baby Einstein videos and putting headphones on my preggo belly. It’s a crazy world out there and I would hope that I can do everything possible early on to help my kids succeed.
• This one’s still in the works, but I don’t think I want my kids to work. It may have been because of my living environment (where work was expected), but I felt immense pressure to work and it often took priority over schoolwork. Though I’d encourage them to work during the summers, during school, the one and only priority is class. Then extra curriculars and sports. Then a healthy social life. Then work. Internships may be a slight middle ground that will require a conversation.
• I will put them through music lessons, especially any girls. This sounds sexist and maybe it is, but there is something so quintessentially beautiful and lovely about a woman who can play the piano. And yes I realize that few of the Austen heroines were ever very good at it, but they knew how.
• They will play sports. Sports are beneficial for many reasons. Obviously they help to keep kids in shape, but they also foster a sense of community and competition, both of which are necessary to avoid “Single Child Syndrome.”
• I will have pets. They’re fluffy. Plus, pets and kids tend to wear each other out. It’s a win-win.

You know, come to think of it, that’s a long list. Kids are a big freaking deal, aren’t they (duh). What I didn’t mention above, however, is that I will also work. I may change my mind (kinda depends on the hubby situation), but I want to still maintain that sense of self, that sense of purpose. I need to know.

Inspired by my own mother, I long ago made a commitment to myself that I won’t marry or start a family until I know that I am capable of taking care of myself and them. God forbid anything happen—divorce, death, illness—I need to know in my heart of hearts that I can keep everybody afloat. That doesn’t necessarily mean that I have to be working the whole time. If the situation deems that I should be a stay-at-home soccer mom, I will. But I need that knowledge for myself and my potential family.

Anyway, that ended on such a morbid tone. More than morbid, it’s just iffy. The world of When-I-Get-the-Chances is much more overwhelming that the world of ShouldaWouldaCouldas, perhaps because it looms, ever-present, in the far-off but still visible future. I mean, I’m 18. I always just assumed I’d get married in my late-20s. So I have about a decade to live out my single craziness before becoming domesticated. Or maybe that’s what marriage and kids are, anyway: domestication.

As a random, irrelevant side note, all this makes me sound like some wild dog that needs to be housebroken. Woof?

Today's Obsession: Zara

I've been working on tomorrow's daily obsession, which ought to be a biggie. But as I was browsing the web, I came across this half-sexy-half-sweet little black number from Zara (a recent obsession many thanks to Laura, who is quickly taking over my blogosphere).

I'm being kidnapped this weekend. Laura and J decided to team up and buy me bus tickets to and from Boston so that I can come to this year's Kappa spring formal. Ummm I'm obviously too excited to breathe. Given the spontaneity of the decision and the current state of my bank account, however, I will be raiding closets for the super awesome event. But that isn't to say I haven't been looking at dresses.

I found this amazing LBD and just know I need to buy it. Whether I wear it to semi formal in fall or whether it sits in the back of my closet, this dress is too sexy to leave to chance. Number 71 on my Bucket List reads: "Buy myself a dress without a reason to wear it." And number 72 is subsequently "Find a place to wear said dress."

Well, ladies and gentlemen, this is it. I don't know when, but I'ma buy this baby stat. I can't help it, nor be held accountable. I'm. Just. So. Obsessed.

STUDIO DRESS from Zara, $160

Ventfest: The New Journalism

Ever since I declared myself a journalism major, I've run into the pestering naysayers that genuinely think they are the first people to ever inform me of the fact that the news industry is dying. Thank you, kind sir. But I realize that.

The thing that people don't realize is that the news industry isn't dying at all; it's just changing.

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Cons (Because I like to save the best for last)

Some changes are, admittedly, sad. Big names buying up or dissolving small town publications is sad, and newspapers of all sizes that fizzle out is the worst of all. Ultimately, I'm a huge fan of multiple news sources. The competition means that every journalist has to constantly be on their toes. Everyone is digging for the next big story. And because there is competition, there is no shortage of exposes; no political figure can pay off Rupert Murdoch and avoid having his life story exposed to the public eye. And with smaller newspapers, there really is the potential for the news to serve its purpose and provide readers with the comprehensive information that they need.

With the incorporation of the Internet, there are some benefits to the media (see below). But unfortunately, there are also some major pitfalls. Readers who resort to online methods of news miss out on the reading experience of a hard copy, good-ol'-fashioned newspaper. As one beloved grandma proxy explained, oftentimes she'll read the paper and end up reading a story about, say, Uganda that she wouldn't have clicked open on a website. The Internet is about functionality and speed and instant gratification, which often the news isn't. Reading a printed publication is an enjoyable and ritualistic ordeal. It's a chance to sit with a cup of coffee and reflect on the goings on of the world. And it's sad that people are not only missing out on that (glorious) ritual, but also on the various happenings in Uganda.

Pros

Negativity aside, there are many benefits of multi-media journalism. Firstly, though small time newspapers are fizzling out or being absolved, more and more bloggers are cranking out new methods of news. They are revealing details and contact people on their own, harnessing the power of the Freedom of Information Act (and the power of being annoying) to draw out the real details on people's lives. Their AP style might be for crap, and they may not have consistent verb tense, but they're still providing some sort of news. They are providing that diversity that might otherwise fizzle out with the small publications.

The Internet is also making "breaking news" a term of redundancy. With the use of immediate online publication and updates, and by harnessing the networking power of Facebook and twitter, news is always current and immediate. No more waiting for the next morning's paper. Everything is here and now and journalists are constantly under pressure to have the most comprehensive, up-to-date info on various stories. And that kind of pressure makes for quality news for the consumer.

I mentioned before the vintage appeal of the "good-ol'-fashioned" printed paper. And I genuinely think that it is wonderful. While I was in Boston, I subscribed to the Boston Globe; even if I didn't have opportunity to read it one day (due to 8 a.m.s or some rude cheapskate stealing my paper), it at least smelled nice. But really, the process of reading a paper is thoroughly enjoyable to me. It's a flashback to morning lattes on my back porch with my dad sharing interesting tidbits of news, while my mom did the morning crosswords. I always read the Union-Tribune and the sports pieces by Mark Zieglar, while my dad took the remaining sports stories (which typically disappeared in the bathroom) and his Wall Street Journal.

Random tangent... When I move back to Boston in June, I already plan on renewing my subscription to the Globe. But this morning, I was flipping through Women's Wear Daily and have been thinking about subscribing to it as well. WWD is often more focused on the industry than actual fashion. And I think that it provides a decent example of what I mean when I say that the news needs more diversity. Because WWD is a specialty publication, it falls under that category. Plus, I need to edumacate myself about the world of fashion. I'm hopelessly illiterate. Okay, tangent over.

Lastly (though I'm sure there are other points) is the incredible ability to harness multimedia and use it to complement stories. Though the newspaper industry has been hit hard by the cons listed above, the magazine industry and some noteworthy newspapers have stayed afloat. The key, however, is always to complement.

Unless it is listed as an "online magazine," like glo.com or an "online newspaper," like Huffington Post, content on a publications website SHOULD NOT match that of it's printed form. A website and a print copy should be two separate--and stand alone--items. If there's any particular reason why the magazine industry has fared better than the newspaper, it is because they have perfected their strengths. Reading a physical magazine is a ritual and readers know this. It's necessary for sunbathing and drinking summer cocktails by the pool. Furthermore, if you look on MC's website, you won't find the same content. Our full-length feature stories are often cut short, but the website also has videos, polls, links and quizzes. It has blogs (!) and additional content, as well. Come to think of it, the personality of MC's site is vastly different than its printed personality.

I've actually been blessed to live in two cities--San Diego and Boston--whose papers--The Union-Tribune and The Boston Globe, respectively--are recognized as some of the best in the country.  The U-T site has information about restaurants and weather/tides and local neighborhoods that couldn't possibly fit in the printed paper. And Boston.com has its own stories, boatloads of multimedia content, even its own staff.

For more info on the ways that the Internet might affect organizations (though not specifically news), check out Jeff Howe's video on croudsourcing--a term he coined and wrote a book about. By the way, he's joining Northeastern's Journalism School staff this fall to teach a class called Online Journalism and I can't take it because it interferes with another class I signed up for. But still... wham-bamming awesome. Tangent #2 over.

Then there's the whole nitty-gritty info about social media, which is basically free advertising and helps readers to feel like they are literally there as the news calls come in. From a news standpoint, twitter is amazing, because journalists can brief a story in 140 words before it's even written. The Globe could tweet: "New info on today's front page story. Stay tuned."

As a loosely related side note, notice all the links in this post? That's another thing the Internet does for journalism. Not only as I brain barfing my little heart out, but I'm providing you various opportunities to see my examples. Links do to an article what pictures do for books: They make it pretty and interesting and help people to envision and better grasp my ideas. Snazzy, no?

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I don't really know what I'm getting at. I guess I just hope to point out that my job is not disappearing, thank you very much.  I'm fighting the list of cons (which is conspicuously shorter) by blogging and writing, by working in the industry and starting up my own small-time publication. So go ahead, tell me I can't do something. "Can't" statements have always been more of a dare than a criticism for me, anyway. Just watch me.


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