To-Do (t-minus 9 days)

My flight (and move) is imminent, and approaching faster than I thought it would. I have about 5 million lists going in my head that need to either become concrete ideas or just, frankly, go away. Visiting friends and family is eating up a good chunk of time that I suppose could be given to packing, but I'm of the opinion that if I apply myself I can pack in 2 days. Seeing the people I care about is more pressing. But still. Lists. Lots of lists.

Today:

+spreading out what I have put aside for packing already
+examining what I need and going to the mall to obtain those items (namely jeans)
+looking at my non-clothing items that I want to bring and (realistically) evaluating if I can bring them.

It's so odd. I've known that I was accepted into my program since Christmas and at the time it seemed like I'd never get over there. But now I'm down to the little tasks; getting toothpaste, socks. Saying goodbye.

And while I'm not saying goodbye to blogging, I am saying goodbye to this particular blog.


To keep up with my new and improved blog/life in London (and the process of making the journey) head over to Freshly Pressing, where you'll find photos of my new hang-outs, my experiences decorating a room the size of a closet ( I think), outfit posts, style profiles, recipes/restaurant reviews, and of course music and film reviews.


I hope to see you across the pond!

Recommendation

In preparation for my great jump across the pond, I've been buying/replacing/obtaining certain items of general importance. One of such certain items were my headphones (which were, in reality, my dad's headphones that I took without asking and he had no idea where they went . . . sorry, daddy).

In my internet research I came across Urbanears, a company based in Stockholm that makes several amazing options for every listener. They all come with a one-year replacement warranty, a fabric cord (yes!), a microphone and remote compatible with the iPhone or Blackberry, a straight plug also compatible with the iPhone/iPod/iPad, and all come in an array of wonderful Wonka/Candyland-esque colors.

After some soul-searching, I bought the Medis, a larger in-ear bud pair with an extra grip that alleged to really keep it in your ear. I waited with bated breath, tracking my shipment as it left Stockholm, ate a croissant in Paris while I was bombarded by good ol' Irene, and arrived well-sated on Monday.

The packaging my friends. The packaging.

I will leave the lovely insides as a surprise for those of you who are as enthralled with packaging as I am. It does not disappoint.  


 Alonzo (my iPod) in his new, raspberry-colo(u)red Urbanears Medis.


A note on the sound quality: Sweet, baby Jesus it is a concert in my ears. I have never experienced such a well-balanced, full sound in a pair of headphones, and I have gone through my fair share of headphones both inexpensive and otherwise. I can listen to the music at a much lower volume level and still be satisfied with my listening experience. I can hear my mother talking to me and respond without the dread "oh-my-god-why-is-my-voice-so-unnaturally-loud" affect.

 The shape is fantastic. It fits snugly in my ear and no matter how much I whip my hair back and forth my earbuds do not fall out.

I'm not going to lie, at $50 these are not inexpensive (particularly when you add shipping costs from Sweden).

But they're worth it. I swear. I really really do.*

 *I was not paid for this review post nor did I benefit from it in any way. But if they felt like sending me another pair of headphones as an expression of gratitude, I'll take a pair of Plattans, please, in Grass

Books/Reading

So, this week is my last week of work (I’m leaving to go to grad school), and I’m spending it training the girl that’s going to take over my position.

My job is awesome. I will never have another job like it as long as I live. Not only are my hours guaranteed (9 am to 3 pm, natch), and I love all the people, but for the most part I get paid to do what I would do during my day anyway.

See, I’m a bake shop girl. It’s this tiny little shop attached to a restaurant and I sell takeaway sandwiches and soups and salads along with delicious little cookies and muffins and scones and croissants. My boss is very laid-back and lets me write quotes and interesting facts and words of the day on the board and altogether doesn’t really bother me. So my entire personality has oozed its way into that little shop. It’s my shop, in a way. I know my regulars; we ask each other about our weekends, our days, what we’re reading, the events of the town. I’ve recommended oodles of books and recipes and movies and music for people (and their children). But this usually only occupies about 2 hours of my day, doling out soup and sandwiches to the wonderful (and sometimes eccentric) townspeople that come in and conversating about my Oscar Wilde/Theodore Roosevelt/Winston Churchill/Anais Nin quote.

The rest of my day is spent reading. Gloriously, gloriously reading. This winter/spring/summer I’ve devoured Patti Smith, The Hunger Games trilogy, F. Scott Fitzgerald, Deborah Harkness, Donna Tartt, A.S. Byatt, E.E. Cummings …  it’s been so wonderful to sit and read, to have the time to sit and read whatever I like.

The last few months have been occupied by my preliminary reading list for my school program. After walking the new girl through my day yesterday, today I took a step back; curled up in the back entrance stairs I kept an eye on her over my book and annotations.

When the pastry chef came up with a tray of oatmeal raisin cookies and saw me perched on the stairs, he chuckled to himself before depositing the tray in the anteroom.

“Nice job,” he said to me, then took a pause “not that this is anything different from what you usually do during the day.”

I grimaced at him, fanning through the 200 plus pages I had yet to reading in what was arguably the most significant book on my reading list.

“Yeah, but I still have to read allllllllll of this.”

My usually sarcastic and slightly curmudgeonly boss smiled at me.

“But you like to read. You love to read! It’s your passion! And you get to do it for the rest of your life! … . actually, do you need more light?”

“No,” I said, squinting up at him in the dim light, “this’ll do just fine.”

I love my job. I love the people I work with. As excited as I am to move on to what will surely be great things, I will deeply miss this little community I feel I’ve grown to be a part of.

Picture this: a rustic hunting lodge.

madewell

call me batshit, but I am vaguely in love with this sweater.

[EDIT: I totes already bought it. Impuullllse, you are my nemesis!]

[EDIT: well, impulse AND the fact that I had a bit of a gift card left and it's free shipping until Monday with the code YESPLEASE]

Gainsbourg. Gainsbourg. Gainsbourg!

(source: cgainsbourg via ONTD)

Dress to Impress

It should be said that while I don't consider myself a fashionista, or even a style blogger, (though outfit photos may increase soon, and by increase I mean appear) I do follow style and fashion. I read the magazines, the blogs, the websites, etc. But in my search to be stylish, I find myself bumping up against a problem.

An article on Refinery 29 (a site I very much enjoy) on layering came to my attention. I have never been able to layer properly, so I followed the link. It proved informative, but rather elementary honestly, because I think most people get the basic idea of layering. That's not actually the question. The question within the question (at least for me) is thusly:

how the hell do I layer without looking like the Stay-puft marshmellow man?

And how do I keep the layers from getting lumpy?!

Because here's the thing. I'm not really sure I've mentioned it before. I have boobs. Tits. Gazongas. It really doesn't matter how you say it, believe me, I've heard it all before. And on top of that, I'm top-heavy. My hips/stomach/legs are not really proportional to my chest size. Which can make life difficult.

full disclosure: yes this is from high school, but I look pretty much the same

A button-down shirt you say? Oh no. No no. If I want to wear it buttoned up at all, it gaps in a really unfortunate place that shows off my bra. Yes, JCrew, I am looking at you.

Which brings me to the conundrum:

I don't understand how major fashion publications can pretend to show regular folk how to do anything when they still insist on modeling the looks on just one body type. But at the same time, obviously  fashion experts can't address every body type because women look vastly different from one another. Having a sizable chest does not necessarily mean that you have hips that don't lie (I wish I did) or a bootylicious backside. It might just mean that you have a rack, skinny legs and no ass.

So it's really just experimentation and looking at style bloggers (the internet's gift to fashion, I think). And sort of hoping for the best.

I know it's been said before but the great thing about style right now is that it really seems like the rules don't really apply anymore (except good taste, but that's a bit arbitrary, don't you think?)

My God, this is a circular argument.

But my point is (I'm assuming it's in here somewhere) that I WILL be posting more outfit shots, if only in an attempt to pay more attention to what I'm wearing.

Welcome to Muppet Labs!

L to R: Pepe's Purple Passion, Wocka Wocka, Meep Meep Meep, Animalistic

(source)

I want Meep Meep Meep. Quite a bit. Or Wocka Wocka.