I’m back from my blogging dry spell, and I’m dreaming of Brigitte Bardot, Saint Tropez, and absolutely everything sailor-inspired.
Marinière, American Apparel; jeans, Levi; espadrilles, André; leather and gold ring, little shop near my new flat whose name has totally escaped me; earrings, Forever 21; watch, Skagen.
I am having more inspired ideas for this blog than ever, yet have less time than I’ve ever had. Can you other bloggers relate? Help!
Outfit posts, apartment photos, job updates and more grown-uppy things to come as soon as I can manage! In the meantime, check out these blogs I’ve been particularly enjoying: The Glamourai and Naturally Nina for seasonal inspiration.
… an enormous sense of responsibility. And believe me, where this blog is concerned I do try to push myself to update regularly and to act all responsible-ish, as everyone knows real grown-up girls do. The problem is that extraordinarily grown-up-like things keep happening to me and distracting me.
As of this past week, for example, I am the proud bearer of a set of keys to my very own apartment. My very own! I’m very excited, but the experience of moving is keeping me very busy (as a very grown-up person such as myself ought to be), which leaves little time for blogging. Sigh.
So far I’ve yet to spend much time in my soon-to-be posh new flat without my hands simply covered in paint, dirt, or sudsy water, but as soon as I do I’ll pick up my camera and take some pictures.
And I promise to try not to be so boring. Oh, you think all grown-ups are boring? Well, I beg to differ, thank you very much.
Today was the second day in a row with spring-like temperatures and sunshine, and rain this morning washed away all but a few lonely remnants of snow. I finally feel like I can say that spring has sprung, without having to knock on wood.
After work today I slipped out of my heavy flannel shirt, black jeans and rain boots and put on boyfriend jeans and this little silk camisole, grabbed the dog leash and wandered around campus with my dog for nearly an hour. I grabbed the hat just as I ran out the door but intentionally forgot shoes. My feet were pleasantly muddy when I got home.
Hat, camisole and earrings: Forever 21.
These are old photos, from one of the last big snows (so many this year!), but I thought I’d post them anyway since there’s been a dearth of outfit posts lately.
Jeans and camisole, Gap; sweater, Anthropologie; headband, Urban Outfitters; fringed booties, Éram.
My first attempt at baking croissants from scratch is behind me. I’m not sure how I ended up with a yeast-free recipe (croissants without yeast are traditionally called croissants de patîssier, as opposed to the croissants de boulanger to which I am more accusomed), but they still tasted okay and I was definitely pleased with the flakiness.
I am very excited to try a new recipe for batch numero deux.
Last weekend Mama and I went thrifting on a whim. We hadn’t been in ages, and luckily we both made some really phenomenal finds!
We bickered over who would have the honor of being the new owner of this hideous vintage dress (I say “hideous” now that I look at the photo I took after winning the battle and bringing it home in my goody bag, but obviously we both saw something more that made it worth rescuing off the rack).
I decided that ditching the belt and shortening it significantly would make it really wearable. Boy, hemming polyester cut on the bias sure is tricky, but I think I did alright and I even got to use my new baby sewing machine I got for Christmas!
I ended up with something that looked like it had just been pulled off the rack at Urban Outfitters, not a dingy thrift store. Maybe it’s the sexy deep-v back, or the sweet little collar the buttons in the back, or the funky 80’s pattern? I’m still not sure what we saw in it, but I sure am glad we did!
The Oxford boots were also among my thrift store loot, and after polishing them a bit and replacing the laces, they looked super cool and were very cozy with their knit lining. The funniest thing about them? Mama says she used to own a pair exactly like them. Maybe even this exact pair. How weird/cool is that?
Dress, boots and belt, thrifted; tights, Express via Gabriel Brothers; cardigan, Gap.
This may be the richest, most decadent cake I’ve ever eaten.
I don’t like cheesecake, but my little brother loves it, and since his birthday’s on Valentine’s Day and he came home from college to celebrate with us, I decided to indulge him. (Plus, when I asked him what kind of cake he wanted, he told me to “do [my] worst,” and a real grown-up can’t ignore a challenge like that!)
This 3-inch deep cheesecake has a Kahlùa and chocolate cookie crumb crust, a thick bottom layer of chocolate ganache, another thick layer of coffee- and rum-flavored cream cheese filling, a sour cream and vanilla topping, and is decorated with chocolate ganache and chocolate-covered espresso beans.
I ate one slice and, because I dislike cheesecake and am lactose intolerant, just about tossed my cookies, but if it looks appealing to you (and I think that to anyone who loves chocolate and cheesecake, it should), you can find the recipe on my favorite food blog, Smitten Kitchen.
If you follow this link, please be a doll and don’t laugh at how awful my cake looks compared to Deb’s. She probably has the benefit of using high-quality pastry tips, whereas mine are made of cheap plastic and come from the cake decorating aisle at the grocery store. Plus, I don’t even have pastry bags, so I used plastic storage bags. They were constantly breaking and on two occasions the pastry tip shot straight out the corner of the bag and embedded itself in the middle of the cake, hence the oh-so-subtle disguising pile of espresso beans right smack in the middle of my cake.
Ever since I rescued it from a yard sale last September, I’ve had what I’ve fondly referred to as “the ugliest painting in the world” hanging in my bedroom. Fear of breaking my camera lens kept me from photographing it, but trust me: It was bad. Greens, browns and pinks swirled together in an impressionistic interpretation of, well, something ugly, probably, and some sort of liquid had dripped down one side, making the paint run. It was probably the tears of the artist when she realized what a monstrosity she had parented.
My intention ever since has been to make use of the rather large canvas and to paint something of my own. Everyone knows that real grown-ups have original art hanging in their homes, and the only original art I can afford is my own.
I opted for something geometric and cheery, wanting to create the exact opposite of the indiscernible and gloomy mess that still hides behind a thick layer of gesso.
I used a compass to create a sort of modern flower pattern and had to use several coats using very teensy, tiny brushes. It was tedious, but totally worth it when I’d finally finished painting the frame, which was cheap-looking before, a nice sleek black. Voilà!
Hannah and I are having a “romantic” night tonight. We made homemade calzones with homemade marinara to dip them in, dressed up in startling similar outfits, and are going to see a movie.
Our outfits weren’t exactly coincidentally alike. We both decided to rock a hippie headband (though it’s more her look than mine) and our fringe booties with leggings and button downs for a indian-princess-meets-indie-band-member kind of look. Yeah. Let’s call it that.
Blouse, borrowed from Mama’s closet; long-sleeve shirt, Gap; velvet leggings, Forever 21; fringe booties, Étam; headband, homemade.
