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| source: shoppingblog.com |
Wednesday, June 29
And of course I want this.
Catch-22 (shopping + limited packing)
So I finally (finally!) feel comfortable to actually type these words and send them out into the inter-void. This fall I'll be moving to London to attempt attend graduate school (Freudian slip). Until now, I've had this crazy fear that something would happen, that would hold me back and make me unable to go . . . which then leads to that horrible "I know I SAID this was happening, but . . . " conversation/post. But my funding packet is in, and I'm a visa approval and a plane flight away from crossing off quite a few life goals (and, you know, the actual year of grad school that will hopefully result in a masters degree).
I've studied in England before, for 6 months. Packing for that was reasonably simple because I knew it was just for 6 months and not to bring everything. But this doesn't feel like a quick trip. This feels like something so much more momentous than that.
The cool thing is that this sense of finality (and the daunting task of fitting my WHOLE life into 2 suitcases and a carry-on) makes you absolutely ruthless. This Saturday I did a room-purge, which is honestly one of my favorite ways to spend a Saturday for some bizarre reason. I just love to de-clutter things . . . to feel like I am NOW more efficient, more stream-lined. That I've literally cut the crap (and by crap I mean stuff . . . not feces, obviously). I love looking at the mountain of things that will be donated to the GoodWill, and the growing trashbag of clothes and other items that cannot be donated for whatever reason. It's so interesting to look at what you hold on to, why it meant something to you (and realizing that it doesn't mean anything to you now). I feel like there is something so refreshing about looking at a practically empty closet . . . like a blank page waiting to be written on.
Now books are a whole other story, mind you. A floor to ceiling bookshelf crammed full of books and I could only pull out 3 to be donated, or re-distributed through my house. I am a literati pack-rat, I guess.
But as I was saying, the prospect of those few scant feet in your suitcase makes you reeeeallly think about what you actually wear and not how you wish you dress. It makes you think about quality over quantity. So without further ado, here is my wishlist for quality of quantity clothing.
-The EmersonMade tuxedo blazer (I don't think I need to explain myself on this one)
But I will if you insist! It's England, land of ever-changing weather. A light jacket is necessary to keep up. This is casual enough with jeans, but can be dressy with a skirt/dress/pants, etc. It's not a tweed, so it's not like "I'm trying to be English!" because I'm not, but it's not a blatant "I'm an American" statement. The cream color may be worrisome, but not in London, where it is ok, nay, encouraged! to be a little rumpled and dirty.
-Current/Elliott jeans
I've studied in England before, for 6 months. Packing for that was reasonably simple because I knew it was just for 6 months and not to bring everything. But this doesn't feel like a quick trip. This feels like something so much more momentous than that.
The cool thing is that this sense of finality (and the daunting task of fitting my WHOLE life into 2 suitcases and a carry-on) makes you absolutely ruthless. This Saturday I did a room-purge, which is honestly one of my favorite ways to spend a Saturday for some bizarre reason. I just love to de-clutter things . . . to feel like I am NOW more efficient, more stream-lined. That I've literally cut the crap (and by crap I mean stuff . . . not feces, obviously). I love looking at the mountain of things that will be donated to the GoodWill, and the growing trashbag of clothes and other items that cannot be donated for whatever reason. It's so interesting to look at what you hold on to, why it meant something to you (and realizing that it doesn't mean anything to you now). I feel like there is something so refreshing about looking at a practically empty closet . . . like a blank page waiting to be written on.
Now books are a whole other story, mind you. A floor to ceiling bookshelf crammed full of books and I could only pull out 3 to be donated, or re-distributed through my house. I am a literati pack-rat, I guess.
But as I was saying, the prospect of those few scant feet in your suitcase makes you reeeeallly think about what you actually wear and not how you wish you dress. It makes you think about quality over quantity. So without further ado, here is my wishlist for quality of quantity clothing.
-The EmersonMade tuxedo blazer (I don't think I need to explain myself on this one)
 | ||
| source: EmersonMade |
-Current/Elliott jeans
 |
| source: bluefly |
In a perfect world where I had millions of dollars, I would be a denim junky. I mean, I sort of am. They're essentially all I wear, particularly since my job allows me to wear pretty much whatever I want. I have a pair of Lucky brand Charlie Flares, which I love and would recommend to anyone, and a VERY slouchy (and honestly ill-fitting) pair of Downtown Skinnys from J.Crew. But I promised myself that if I hit a certain goal than I would buy a pair of NICE designer jeans. And I still haven't done that. And when denim-gurus Current/Elliott jeans are on sale at Bluefly for over 50% off . . . . it would be criminal not to get them, right? right. (p.s. check out their awesome houses and personal denim collections at The Coveteur)
Now, I know I also need a LBD (that doesn't actually have to be black [in fact, I think black is a little too stark on me], but you get the idea) and some grey wool trousers, but I don't have anything that I'm coveting for those items.
But I think both of these are totally doable . . . right, Mom? right. (?)
Tuesday, June 28
Today Feels like
this.
my funding packet is in.
I've got 2 blueberry scones in my bag.
a good book.
ashtanga tonight.
and after a week of thinking "I'd really like to try a banh mi," what does my boss (a chef) make but banh mis? And gives me one to try?
I'm still doing the dance of deliciousness. I'd show a picture, but . . . I ate it too fast.
my funding packet is in.
I've got 2 blueberry scones in my bag.
a good book.
ashtanga tonight.
and after a week of thinking "I'd really like to try a banh mi," what does my boss (a chef) make but banh mis? And gives me one to try?
I'm still doing the dance of deliciousness. I'd show a picture, but . . . I ate it too fast.
Friday, June 17
Tuesday, June 14
Notes on a Tuesday
So, it's been quite a bit since I've posted anything substantially music-related. But this past few days was a barrage of concert-going, so . . . there you go.
This past Thursday I saw Mumford and Sons at Merriweather Post Pavilion. For those of you who don't live in the area, it was stinking hot that day. Like, a good bit over 100 degrees farenheit hot. I closed up shop at work as quickly as humanly possible, grabbing the shorts I'd stashed under my counter and running to the staff restroom to change (gingerly standing atop my shoes as I made the switch from jeans to shorts). I was wearing the thinnest tank top I could manage (it raised a few eyebrows, I won't lie) and power-walked the few blocks to my car.
I leapt inside, turned the music full-go, rolled down my windows, and cruised the open road to Columbia, Maryland, meeting up with my friend for some mexican food (shrimp enchiladaaaaas) before braving the parking lot.
We grabbed our $9.50 beer (it was a tall glass of Shock Top, so I can almost say it was worth it) and picked our spot on the lawn. Off slightly to the left, on the high ground. Spreading out the blanket we sipped our beers while sweat dripped down our backs, enjoying the commune-atmosphere that lawn seats always seem to promote. I checked my phone periodically to keep tabs on a friend who was supposed to meet us with her sisters.
And then the rains came. And we're talking biblical level rains. Thunder and huge cracks of lightening that would have been terrifying had the rain not felt so refreshing on my hot skin (and the back of my brain recognized that I was not the tallest person on this open field, and that the idiots with the umbrellas would probably get hit before me). That little field became our Woodstock, as we laughed and danced and hollered in defiance, rebelling against our natural instinct to seek shelter from the storm.
The opening bands, Matthew and the Atlas and the Low Anthem were both wonderful, and rather appropriate for the rainy weather. By the end of the opening sets the rain had stopped, and even more people (clearly waiting it out in the cars) appeared, packing it in as best we could. Of course, my phone was toast but so goes technology and rain, I suppose.
Mumford and Sons took the stage, the thrill on their faces evident. They said that Merriweather Post was the largest venue they'd played (until later that weekend at Bonnaroo, I suppose). Their smiles were boyish and huge, stretching across their faces in obvious delight as 20,000 people sung their lyrics back to them, lyrics that clearly struck a chord (forgive the pun) with each of us. They played every song we knew, and four new songs that we didn't that seemed to keep the best of Mumford and Sons that we know, evolving into something even better, with lyrics that hit home just right.
They saluted those of us that stayed through the storm and danced in the rain and hail, but honestly they made it worth it. Worth my phone dying and worth the massive traffic jam to leave and head home.* Because not only was it amazing music it was an amazing experience.
If I could post every song, I would, but for now, here's their amazingly kickass performance of "Dust Bowl Dance"
Then yesterday I saw the Decemberists, minus the amazing Jenny Conlee who is currently fighting off breast cancer (you can go on their website to buy Team Jenny t-shirts, with all proceeds going to Susan G. Komen for the Cure). They were amazing, as per usual, playing the vast majority of The King is Dead with a few off of The Crane Wife and Picaresque. They did three songs from the Hazards of Love, which I was nervous about hearing without the full album/original ladies to back them, but it was still awesome. Sara Watkins, who is standing in as a fiddle for Conlee's accordian, seemed slightly hesitant (though I can't even begin to imagine how difficult it must be to sing harmony and play fiddle simultaneously), but did well and seemed to mesh well with the Decemberists.
I can never get over how comfortable Colin Meloy seems onstage. If he's nervous he does a darn good job hiding it. He jokes and talks like he's just talking to a room of 10 people, never mind the hundreds behind us. And did some pretty epic guitar-picking/moshing/crowd-surfing during "Chimbley Sweep" (one of my new favorite Decemberists songs)
All in all, I've had a good couple of days, musically. Pretty blissed out about it all, honestly.
video sources: Eels121 and smallroundbluecell, respectively
*though, if they really felt the need to reimburse me my blackberry, I wouldn't be totally opposed.
This past Thursday I saw Mumford and Sons at Merriweather Post Pavilion. For those of you who don't live in the area, it was stinking hot that day. Like, a good bit over 100 degrees farenheit hot. I closed up shop at work as quickly as humanly possible, grabbing the shorts I'd stashed under my counter and running to the staff restroom to change (gingerly standing atop my shoes as I made the switch from jeans to shorts). I was wearing the thinnest tank top I could manage (it raised a few eyebrows, I won't lie) and power-walked the few blocks to my car.
I leapt inside, turned the music full-go, rolled down my windows, and cruised the open road to Columbia, Maryland, meeting up with my friend for some mexican food (shrimp enchiladaaaaas) before braving the parking lot.
We grabbed our $9.50 beer (it was a tall glass of Shock Top, so I can almost say it was worth it) and picked our spot on the lawn. Off slightly to the left, on the high ground. Spreading out the blanket we sipped our beers while sweat dripped down our backs, enjoying the commune-atmosphere that lawn seats always seem to promote. I checked my phone periodically to keep tabs on a friend who was supposed to meet us with her sisters.
And then the rains came. And we're talking biblical level rains. Thunder and huge cracks of lightening that would have been terrifying had the rain not felt so refreshing on my hot skin (and the back of my brain recognized that I was not the tallest person on this open field, and that the idiots with the umbrellas would probably get hit before me). That little field became our Woodstock, as we laughed and danced and hollered in defiance, rebelling against our natural instinct to seek shelter from the storm.
The opening bands, Matthew and the Atlas and the Low Anthem were both wonderful, and rather appropriate for the rainy weather. By the end of the opening sets the rain had stopped, and even more people (clearly waiting it out in the cars) appeared, packing it in as best we could. Of course, my phone was toast but so goes technology and rain, I suppose.
Mumford and Sons took the stage, the thrill on their faces evident. They said that Merriweather Post was the largest venue they'd played (until later that weekend at Bonnaroo, I suppose). Their smiles were boyish and huge, stretching across their faces in obvious delight as 20,000 people sung their lyrics back to them, lyrics that clearly struck a chord (forgive the pun) with each of us. They played every song we knew, and four new songs that we didn't that seemed to keep the best of Mumford and Sons that we know, evolving into something even better, with lyrics that hit home just right.
They saluted those of us that stayed through the storm and danced in the rain and hail, but honestly they made it worth it. Worth my phone dying and worth the massive traffic jam to leave and head home.* Because not only was it amazing music it was an amazing experience.
If I could post every song, I would, but for now, here's their amazingly kickass performance of "Dust Bowl Dance"
Then yesterday I saw the Decemberists, minus the amazing Jenny Conlee who is currently fighting off breast cancer (you can go on their website to buy Team Jenny t-shirts, with all proceeds going to Susan G. Komen for the Cure). They were amazing, as per usual, playing the vast majority of The King is Dead with a few off of The Crane Wife and Picaresque. They did three songs from the Hazards of Love, which I was nervous about hearing without the full album/original ladies to back them, but it was still awesome. Sara Watkins, who is standing in as a fiddle for Conlee's accordian, seemed slightly hesitant (though I can't even begin to imagine how difficult it must be to sing harmony and play fiddle simultaneously), but did well and seemed to mesh well with the Decemberists.
I can never get over how comfortable Colin Meloy seems onstage. If he's nervous he does a darn good job hiding it. He jokes and talks like he's just talking to a room of 10 people, never mind the hundreds behind us. And did some pretty epic guitar-picking/moshing/crowd-surfing during "Chimbley Sweep" (one of my new favorite Decemberists songs)
All in all, I've had a good couple of days, musically. Pretty blissed out about it all, honestly.
video sources: Eels121 and smallroundbluecell, respectively
*though, if they really felt the need to reimburse me my blackberry, I wouldn't be totally opposed.
Wednesday, June 8
Not-so-Impulsive Impulse buy
One of the best things about online shopping is the ability to put something in your cart and not buy it right away. You can check back in on it, look at the subtotal cost, and hem and haw and stew over it. For days.
"Do I really need this?" I ask myself. More often than not the answer is no and I abandon my covetous thoughts for frivolous things like green snakeskin cowboy boots that I would never (honestly) wear, or that vintage dress that may or may not fit but either way is non-returnable.
But just every so often, I realize that I cannot live without it. Like yesterday, when the fabulous blog I am Greedy Girl posted about etsy seller ayo femi and her jewelry. For over a week I'd been looking at the bracelet in my etsy cart thinking "I really want these . . . ?"
But then, the picture of the EXACT bracelet that I wanted (color and all!) on this deservedly highly-trafficked blog rocketed me into action.
And I am now the proud owner of two (TWO!) of said bracelets.
And as much as I need to save right now . . . to adapt orphan Annie "when you really want it, you really want it."
"Do I really need this?" I ask myself. More often than not the answer is no and I abandon my covetous thoughts for frivolous things like green snakeskin cowboy boots that I would never (honestly) wear, or that vintage dress that may or may not fit but either way is non-returnable.
But just every so often, I realize that I cannot live without it. Like yesterday, when the fabulous blog I am Greedy Girl posted about etsy seller ayo femi and her jewelry. For over a week I'd been looking at the bracelet in my etsy cart thinking "I really want these . . . ?"
But then, the picture of the EXACT bracelet that I wanted (color and all!) on this deservedly highly-trafficked blog rocketed me into action.
 |
| both images from ayofemijewelry on etsy |
And I am now the proud owner of two (TWO!) of said bracelets.
And as much as I need to save right now . . . to adapt orphan Annie "when you really want it, you really want it."
Friday, June 3
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