2018 and Unspoken Promises. | Outfit Post

I found myself walking around the Oscar de La Renta exhibition at the Museum of Fine Arts the day before NYE and staring at the most amazing woven tapestry style coat and while I kept strolling, I began to reflect on the past year. It’s weird because I saw this bizarre trend on Instagram where people were turning their stories into these extended summaries of their year, where they posted a snap of each month (which sidenote – who on earth has the time to save all those photographs for a year, then remembers to go back and retrieves them, puts them in an orderly fashion, complete with captions, filters, hashtags – I digress – so I’ll just continue going through them like the nosy person I am) mentioning the memorable moments. Many people posted their personal achievements and stuff they did, and to be honest, it made me feel like a voyeur witnessing shameless bragging.

I was really saddened when I began to feel very unaccomplished and small … don’t you feel small and overwhelmed when you sit on social media for too long? … oh … okay, just me then… Anyway, I tend to get really anxious when I see what people are doing, which more power to them, that is great – but I got sucked into the byproduct of the annoying mosh pit of judgement and jealousy and comparison that appears in the center of all the people who simply came to praise themselves.

But doesn’t that also sound really pompous? Well, on one hand, it is great to feel acknowledgement when you publish a photo on Instagram documenting your weightless journey, or a photo celebrating your anniversary. But on the other hand, with the mosh pit I just mentioned, it really sucks to feel like you aren’t at the same level that everyone else seems to be at, and it seems insensitive and almost offensive (from this bitter and jaded perspective) to receive notifications of people saying “yay me, look at what I did this year, clap for me!”

All bitterness aside, these ideas and feelings flashed through my mind at a mile a minute as I also tried to calculate the price of this tapestry coat (roughly ten thousand dollars if it’s OdLR couture, so not accessible to me in this lifetime) and I came to what I think is the most mature and grown up solution to this self imagined situation.

Quick disclaimer* I hate strongly dislike resolutions as they feel forced and fake to me, and 9 times out of 10 they are not carried out. Something about this tapestry coat spoke to me though. So I made a mental note that I guess qualifies as a resolution because it was within a 24 hour parameter of the end of the year…bleh to

1) stop being so negative because it most likely sending out negative vibes and bringing me down

2) stop simply saying that I will stop comparing myself to other people and just do it already

3) stop using social media so much since I clearly have once again developed a dependence on social media and the need to feel validated/acknowledged in order to see myself as someone worthwhile

 

After coming up with this list I smiled to myself, finally prepared for the new year and finally feeling fulfilled. Okay so moral of the story: I reached my own fulfillment on my own, and I no longer feel jealous of the “new year, new me, new goals” overload that I was bombarded with online****.

ANYWAY, here are some snazzy pictures that my fantastic friend Roya took of me three weeks ago that have NOTHING to do with this post, but made me happy, and on that very weak segue let’s move on.

 

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Bet you thought it was too cold for a skirt. Fashion > practicality. 
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Constance Billard School for Girls uniforms meet Braids and … Boots?
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I LOVE having my blue phone make an unwanted cameo in my pocket. Said no one ever. 
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I should make this a postcard or something, I really love this look, and this is coming from a recovering skirt hater. 

Outfit details:

Vegan moto jacket/ AE (really old)  //  Turtleneck/Join Life by Zara (sustainably sourced line by Zara)  //  Skirt/Primark (5 years old)  //   Boots/ Ivanka Trump

I bought those Ivanka Trump boots in 2014, when supporting the Trump family did not make me gag, nor did it mean anything yet compared to today’s American society. I also cannot just get rid of them, since that would go against my ethical fashion beliefs and they are vegan suede and I really like them and I am getting good wear out of them. That is all I have to say. 

 

                                               . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

 

**** PS. I still have tabs open with Google results for “internet detoxing” and “how to get off the grid like Ron Swanson”

 

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I wish you guys positivity and light this year!

Bisous

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24 Hours. | Updates

Hi there, hello, bonjour. It has been a hot minute.

I am currently sitting on campus, sporting a beret (I love that all of a sudden people are into wearing them when we fashion lovers are aware that the beret was never really ‘out’ of style) of all things, and a head to toe black look. I feel very much like someone who dropped out of their art history appreciation class in this look. But not relevant right now.

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also before I forget, behold a blurry picture of my handmade Fran Fine costume.

I have had one heck of a semester. Challenging? Yes. Tiring? Yes. Fun? OF course! But yes, I was very tired and was overwhelmed a few times, not to mention incredibly stressed, stressed to the point where I was not as interested in writing for the blog. And I don’t mean that I don’t love doing this, because I do, but I do feel like I have no ability to veil my current mindset when I write here. Other writing projects are sacred and I am professional and formal there, but for a blog – and personal blog at that – why on earth would I be anything but candid – ? See my point?

Anyway, I also think that discussing my homework assignments was what I spent 70% of my time doing, so I also considered how helpful it would be for me to dwell on my homework woes with an audience that comes here just for fashion and style musings. I quickly decided that for my own sanity, it was necessary for me to put the blog down and use both hands to juggle my schoolwork and attempts to forge a social life.

On the bright side, Christmas is coming! And I need to really get my shit together to post here more. I recently worked with a photographer in the Austin area (@harleyeldridge so you can stalk him like I did), and by recently, I mean as recently as 9 am today.

Which brings me to a few tips on posing for shoots: (for fashion shoots though, nothing crazy or portrait-y or senior graduation picture-y)

  • wear something relevant to your surroundings. I had a beret, but I wasn’t about to put that on when we wanted something urban that could exist in a concrete jungle.
  • be able to listen to a  photographer when he tells you that your forehead lines keep appearing. A bit anecdotal advice (ahem, I still like my forehead lines making cameos in shots), but nevertheless useful for some people.
  • if it will be cold and you are shooting in warm weather clothing, or vice versa, just be prepared to throw stuff on or take off layers in between shots, or you might end up with freezing hands like moi this morning since I was convinced that I had predicted the weather and was 110% sure that it was going to be in the 60˚ range. I wasn’t about to be I-told-you-so’d, and when I saw that other people were fine and not freezing, and that it was just me being nervous and cold, I forced myself to keep my hands out of my pockets.

You’re welcome.

Anyway, just wanted to pop in, say hello, ask for divine intervention as I hit this home stretch of essays that I need to finish, and turn them all in before heading back to Houston tomorrow (in less than 24 hours!!!!) . Also we need to talk about the comeback of 2000’s fashion, which I believe I must have ranted about before somewhere here. WHYYYYYYYYY?????

That is all. Get excited, the fashion returns, but more importantly, the writer with a beret (they were always a thing, don’t listen to what they tell you). (Which reminds me: bucket hats and crocs (hideous foot swallowing beasts, those crocs are) were, are not, and NEVER will be a thing.)

Au revoir mes amies, avec amour. Et n’oubliez pas, je reviendrai bientôt.

P.s. don’t mind my pretentious french exit; I am still in my beret, remember? Also, 7 years of french under my belt.

bisous

Hello Summer.

Hello everyone!

It feels so odd to be saying that right now, as I scroll through my old posts and wonder where the time has gone. I feel as if I owe everyone an explanation for my absence here.

So while I know that you all are perfectly justified in being angry with me, here I go attempting an apology. Or at least presenting a solid alibi, whichever works better.

This will also probably become some sort of rant inevitably, so disclaimer – if you aren’t in for the long haul you might want to click away, haha.

First of all, I would like to point out how much work goes into each post. For a professional blogger who made this their full time job, there is a photographer required for every. Single. Shoot… And for every. Single. Post. And unfortunately, my younger brother a few months ago realized that photographing my outfits out of the “goodness of his heart” (my words, not his) was doing nothing for his wallet. To be fair, it was a crap deal we had going on, at least on his end. And I laughed it off. But then I realized I had no one to hold the camera and actually snap the photo, and then the laughing ended. So I hunted photographers, but no one was A) near enough to work with or B) was interested in working with a newer, less followed blogger. SEE everyone? THIS is why bloggers date people who are good with photography; they get free photos. Smart smart smart.

Another reason I was distanced from the blog was school. Always school. Courses got harder, my study breaks became smaller and less frequent, and thus became consumed with me slipping in clips of the show Victoria on PBS (I am a fangirl for that show I swear the costumes must be crafted out of angel hair and swan feathers or something) , or Mad Men (not surprising for me). I also became a bit of a vintage freak, stalking vintage accounts and sellers on Instagram, but never actually bidding on things due to sizing qualms.

So there are my two largest reasons. Another relevant reason was this fear that I was not living in the moment, but instead just thinking of when and what to post, and if I had enough clothing for posts. Which is not the point of ethical living — a goal I am actively pursuing. Shopping mindfully is something I try to do, and if my blog was standing in the way of that main goal, then it had to be put on hold.

BUT I won’t lie, I missed the mini platform I had to write and rant on that was in my control all the time. So here I am, again. It’s summer, and I am here, but I won’t guarantee how active I can be, since I will be a bit busy this summer (more on that another time). For now, I CAN guarantee an outfit MWAH HA HA. Someone’s brother was  in a good mood and agreed to being a photographer for the day.

Downtown Houston, how I missed you. Suburbs….well, let’s just say I have a growing fiery pit of lava feeding on fervid hatred and swirling flames of discomfort and a mild allergic reaction when I think of you.

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a moment of gratitude to the hair gods for helping me make a bun today. that is all.
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smiling because I am fighting the bitch face, but look at the shoes *cries*.  divinity in a shoe.
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detailed shot of the perforation of my bag – love that – and the lace top…*yells at the top of lungs* I HAVE BECOME A TABLECLOTH come be my friend
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actually serious styling tip – cuffing pants makes your legs look longer. I don’t know how many more times I have to say it to prove it to you all.

Outfit Details:

Top/Zara // Pants/ H&M (old) // Shoes/Nanette Lepore // Bag/gifted

** “The Tempest” Playbill not available for sale 😀

There you go! My latest outfits are mostly in grayscale, or at least in dark colors. In lieu of prints I lean towards textures and fabrics, which are more fun anyway. I saw the Houston Ballet’s version of “The Tempest” and was entranced, and stepped out for a second to get these photos of this outfit. My top was actually fished off a rack in Zara that was covered in those pseudo Johanna Ortiz tops. Even though I feel like a human doily, I can live with that. The ruffled shoulders are actually (oh good god I’m about to say it) fun?

Last thing I will say: those shoes. They are precious, and I love anything pointy-toed. If I see a pair of black shoes that threaten to mold my feet into triangles by the end of the day and have sandpaper for soles sign me up. I will gladly break in those death traps for you. Years of practice of wearing uncomfortable shoes left me numb anywhere below my mid calf area, so these were great. I realize now sitting at home with my feet propped up that the skin has been rubbed raw in a few places but THAT IS OKAY. All is fair in love and fashion.

Thanks for reading!

The True Cost.

I recently bought a dress – which sounds really boring and isn’t how I normally start conversations- but I actually felt good about it.

I’ve always been conscious of my actions and their effects on the environment, so a few years ago, I started reading up on the fashion industry and how it relates to pollution, unfair labor, and carbon emissions. I even saw the documentary that this blog post is named after. I don’t want to spoil it, but it basically points out the darker side of the fashion industry and how we as a society of consumption have turned our back on ethical practices. Exploiting workers in developing countries, using materials that include animal byproducts, and throwing away all the material that we do not use has led to a massive problem. In order to combat this, we can recycle clothes, sell them elsewhere, swap clothes, buy secondhand…etc.

I cut down my shopping by more than half, but I’ve also tried to make each purchase an investment purchase also so I wouldn’t feel as bad about my closet.

So getting to the point of this post- my dress I wore today was this awesome peace silk (a vegan silk alternative – real silk involves killing silk worms) maxi dress with awesome slits and a great cut-out back. But my favorite part of the dress was its tag! The tag says that its made of recycled man-made fabrics.

Eco-friendly AND vegan fabric + my personal style?  = heck yeah.

 

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The lighting in this picture was hilarious.

The dress is actually a much prettier maroon shade, but the lighting made it all wonky. Also yes, I blurred the photo.

The denim jacket was with me because I went to Barnes and Noble to read as I do almost every weekend, because Barnes and Noble is to me like Tiffany’s is to Holly Golightly, and Barnes and Noble happens to maintain a welcoming temperature of 32 degrees Fahrenheit. I ended up not wearing it though because I wasn’t about to let air conditioning rain on my eco-friendly fashion parade.

Bottom line: The True Cost (I think its still on Netflix) is definitely worth a watch- and so is ethical living.

xoxo

The Nose Conspiracy | Storytime

In an effort to create space on my phone, I decided to go through my photos and make some necessary cuts to my collection. Now, I’m a firm believer that phones say a lot about their owners; being overly observant and nosy has its perks (for once). Whether the owner has a really old case (either too lazy to change it or very practical and doesn’t see the importance of having a ‘pretty’ case), or a flamboyant fluorescent object that just happens to also function as a case on the side of having credit card slots/ a pocket for change/ a compact mirror/a gum dispenser/a gps/ spare kleenex (the girl who is always behind in her daily life because she is too busy living it up on Twitter *cough* Tumblr) — the point is- I notice these things.

Items as personal as phones reflect us in some way. But the interior- the junk that appears once you unlock the phone- that is as intriguing as the latest Stella McCartney runway show. Apps aside, I am referring directly to the photos on our phones. Not necessarily because I care to see the selfies I imagine people take of themselves, because the selfies are no way as near as interesting as the photos we take of things we like or that make us think. When we photograph things, we want to remember them so we can later go back and go back to the train of thought we had when we first saw the item.

ANYWAY, I was reminded of some thoughts I had when I went to the Met in New York recently. After looking at sculpture after sculpture, I noted a trend in the profiles of their faces, and I had to take pictures so I could compare with others. Now looking back on them, I strangely feel like I should justify to people why they are on my phone and make sure I’m not the only person who find this funny (I need to make sure that I’m not weird).

Behold, a peek at things I find weird/thought provoking:

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My first instinct was to think of Mads Mikkelsen. Now I can’t stop seeing it. i can’t stop laughing either. 

 

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He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. He’s back. 

 

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You guys must see the pattern now, right?

 

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Now there’s a family of them!!!?!

Alright. This will sound either stupid, or like I’m reading too deep into the situation.

I consider the photos above reason to believe that Voldemort is very much alive and was angry that artists back in the day did not pay homage to his gloriously flat face (no offense to Ray Fiennes) and thus invaded the Met at some point in time and yelled some sort of spell that severed the noses of every ancient bust on display.

Here’s a more plausible and boring conclusion: maybe the employees at the Met don’t get paid enough and instead of going on strike, they figured they’d attack the artwork since that would express their invisible anger towards their bosses.

And here’s what I REALLY think happened : A pretentious curator at the Met calmly perused the sculptures before they went up and found all their noses to be ugly, and instead of wasting money on a sculpture surgeon (okay I obviously know that is not a profession, I just liked the way that sounded in my head), he was Mr. Do-It-Yourself  and took out his trusty chisel and mallet and screwed it up thinking he had better taste in noses than the Greeks and Romans. By then, he was frantic- he had to do something. He probably trembled, thinking to himself, Julius and Augustus are turning in their coffins as I operate on their cultural treasures WITHOUT EVEN A DEGREE IN MEDICINE. So then, he pulled out the next best thing, which was his daughter’s silly putty that he accidentally brought with him, and he smacked that on the noses, but that slid off of the noses to his dismay. As he felt the end of his career approaching, he fell feebly to his knees and begged the Roman and Greek gods to show him the path to artistic enlightenment. He smacked his forehead, chastising himself for thinking like Narcissus, and curled into the fetal position next to a statue of a chubby cherub (I am killing it with these alliterations!) and waited to be found and fired.

But then, out of nowhere, a light shone from above. The now dusty curator looked up, suddenly blinded by a white light. He meekly asked, “Zeus?” A voice came out of the intercom instead, announcing that any damaged sculptures would soon be seen by a visiting specialist in refurbishing pieces. The light went off. Hmm. The man might refurbish their noses. But the continuity- it would only work if I were consistent! The curator looked up again, slyly. He pocketed the chisel and mallet and whipped out a much heavier hammer that he didn’t remember having before, and he sprinted through the entire backroom, smashing every. Single. Nose. Not one statue was left untouched. The man had no time to admire his work, so he fled the scene.

And that is how the noses of so many statues now look flat. You’re welcome.

xoxo

 

1 down, 3 to go

I decided to write down my thoughts every day of my last week of my freshman year of college, just so I could look at it now and laugh at what exams, anxiety, and lack of sleep did to my brain.

Monday, May the second:

I want sleep. I’m not hungry, but it would screw up my metabolism if I didn’t, right? Hmm. I also have money on my ID card that will go to waste…time to buy Starbucks and plant based snacks and biodegradable deodorant! Wait. I have a final coming up soon, right? Hmm. Study…or watch people get ready for the Met gala? How many people actually get invited? What did they do to get invited? What am I doing with my life- I should be doing something Met gala worthy. Why can’t I SLEEP?! (I believe this last sentence was when I checked in around midnight after long restlessly for two hours- I get anxiety at night, and it’s worse if I can’t sleep).

I’m assuming I fell asleep, because the last sentence was a jumble of letters that I suspect were the result of my phone hitting my face.

Tuesday, May third:

Whoa! Last day of classes! I think I’ll miss my French and English classes the most. I liked sitting in the front of the class. It just occurred to me that I never looked at who sat behind me in my classes, so I’m only acquainted with the people who say in my row. Note to self: stop listening to One Dance by Drake before you make yourself hate it. Maybe I should actually go to the vegan place everyone keeps mentioning. *goes to only vegan friendly cafe in town* OH MY GOODNESS they have wheatgrass! They have agave!? They have acaí?! They put Colombian chocolate and cacao in their smoothies!? *Samples six smoothies* *decides to get food instead because they have kale wraps* Vegan food is good. Food is good. Food. Food. Note to self: learn to contain yourself when you see vegan safe places. Hold up – they have composted utensils and cups *squeals*. Reread latest note to self. Thirty minutes writing a final assignment= nothing left to do until Friday, aside from hand delivering my final assignment and eight page analysis over a book. Life is good. It’s the little things. Like smoothies. Like white bean kale wraps. <- rereading latest note to self again. Speaking of little things, I made the best decision of my life and instead of immediately folding my laundry, I’m lying in it while it’s burning. I’m so happy I have a high pain/heat tolerance. I mean, I’m red all over but it’s worth it, since I’m always cold. *lies in silence for twenty minutes fluffing laundry around self like an awkward pigeon* I found an unused nose strip in intact packaging. Hmm. A girl should always pamper herself.

Thirty minutes later: OW (it meant it when it said twenty minutes max)

Late night thoughts: I should really start packing my stuff to move out. I should get out of this now cold pile of laundry.

Wednesday, May the fourth:

Typing. Typing. Essay. Ooh! Starbucks! Packing….I hate packing. Nah. YouTube it is. Jon Snow is actually alive(?(!!!!!)?). Let’s watch the clip again. His gasp scares me every time. *Watches Jon Snow come back to life ten times*. I stared at the ceiling today. I mentally planned how much I had to fit in a two by three by one suitcase. Not much. How on earth have I accumulated so much? Time to look up how to tidy up. Google says I need to become a minimalist or I’ll get overwhelmed by material possessions and fall into a downward spiral of consumerism and emptiness. Je me sens vide. Ça ne m’étonne pas plus. (Quote from French Vogue, in February, translated: I feel empty. That does not surprise me anymore.) Maybe when I get home I can become a minimalist. Wait- can fashion pundits become minimalists? Are we the fashion obsessed condemned to fall with the sinking ship because of technology and fashion burn-out???!!!! Am I still freaking out because Alexander Wang is out of Balenciaga seven months later??!

You better believe I fell asleep pondering this. No continuous train of thought; just thoughts floating through my head. I dreamed of being at a board meeting of my college professors failing me for unknown reasons.

Thursday, May fifth:

My final assignment is done. I can go turn it in. Can I go home now? Clouds part, and it occurs to me that I still have not studied for my french final that’s tomorrow at 8 am. Thanks conscience, for appearing now. Let’s study for now. Two hours staring at french words in a cold room. Oh look. My roommate is singing. No studying today. *Leaves apartment for a colder albeit quieter place*. I hate packing stuff. When my sister moved out after freshman year she hardly packed. Guess I’ll pack everything. Oh crap. I have to eat all of my veggies so none go bad. *Eats two cups of sugar snap peas and twelve cherry tomatoes and two glasses of cashew milk and two servings of almonds and a stalk of celery. I’m going home tomorrow I’m going home tomorrow home is nice home is great home home home HOMMMMMMME. (Fell asleep here)

Friday, May sixth:

HOMMMMMMMME (Continuity). Bye French – see you soon – sincerely, NOT fluent. <– I just came back to say that this must have made sense to me when I wrote it, but now its so random that I left it there and didn’t edit it out, because it is too funny.

I don’t think to tell Dad to bring  a second car to help me move home again. The car is so stuffed, I swear Dad cannot see in his rear view mirror.

One car ride later= SO MUCH UNPACKING I feel claustrophobic. Is it normal to get anxiety from having much more than you need? Is it normal to be disgusted by belongings and to purge yourself of items out of immense guilt of hoarding items that aren’t even eco-friendly? I should get that New York Times bestseller that says that I should tidy up more. No, then that counts as consumption, and I have no space for another book. Ugh.

Lying down later- Whoa. I’m done with my first year of college. Holy asidfjaklsdnfhdfjsfihringr. Sleep sounds nice. WAIT did I leave my contacts in my apartment before I  checked out of there and surrendered my key?! *falls asleep*

P.S. I didn’t leave my contacts behind.

Moral of the story- get sleep, or you won’t remember to write with tenses and you won’t suffer delusions of grandeur that specifically make you think you’re William Faulkner and write in a stream of consciousness. Yay, my first year is over! Here is my documentation of my outfit on Wednesday, trying to figure out what to pack and when, and trying to stay calm as my roommates pile their stuff everywhere.

 

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Actually got nauseous during the last days out of anxiety, saw myself in my roommate’s mirror, and realized that I dressed decently- for once. 

nineteen years and counting

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Tee: A&F // Denim: Pull & Bear // Belt: AE // Sandals: Call it Spring // Bracelet: My Intent

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Classy af in front of Whole Foods, like a truly pretentious vegan.
Happy New Year to me! 😀
Yesterday was my birthday, but since I spent my afternoon coming home and mainly running around to hang out with my brother, my birthday might not have been what most people would want on their special day. Here’s the thing:

I asked my parents to not do anything special.

Go ahead and let your jaw drop if you need to. I have my reasons. As I’ve grown older, I’ve seen how what I’ve wanted has evolved over time. When I walk by stores I like, I’ll usually joke once or twice (actually like fifty times) while I pick up items of interest and I’ll say “OOH here’s what I want for my birthday!” and then I’ll add a creepy wink or something. But in all seriousness, I’ll sit down later and think – actually think about what I truly need or would ask for as a gift, and the past two/three years, that list I usually have in my head is suddenly no where to be found, and I end up sick of wanting and sick of thinking that I have to ask for something simply because its a specific day of the year. This year, for example, a few weeks ago, I logged into Etsy, and picked what I wanted based on what I had clicked on the most for the past two years. And I only picked two things. And then I figured, what the heck, I’ll just buy this for myself and won’t ask for anything.

And you know what? I felt so much better!

I feel sometimes that liking fashion and style fuels a paradox for me. I love being on trend as much as the next Vogue devotee, but that costs money. And that costs time, time searching for trends I want to participate in, and time that I could use studying. Time I need to read for fun.

Okay, I can rant about that later.

But really, lately, I have gotten tired of the feeling that I want something. And this feeling isn’t new. It flares up around Christmas when I have to make a Christmas list, but it still cannot compare to my birthday, when I have to ask for something and only I get gifts.

So this year, I made a reservation at a vegan/sustainably sourced restaurant, and told everyone that I wanted them to be there. At the end of the day, when I thought about my stupid first world problems like “to want? or not to want?” and combined it with my hope that there is something more to life outside of our iPhones, I ended up extremely angry with phones and technology (and hungry). But more importantly, I would feel kind of empty. The obvious solution was to FaceTime my parents and pester them about their lives and ask dumb questions and give them my view on various books I was reading and remind them to take their vitamins, because I care about those things.

The answer came like a whack to the head with a fish.  I really only wanted to hang out with my family…and eat food. I didn’t want the ‘special’ treatment, mostly because it makes me uncomfortable, that I’m sure I could probably tie back to some Freudian thing from my childhood, but whatever. I didn’t even get cake. But its okay. I got what I wanted, and I’m relieved that I got just that. And that everyone was there to be with me today as I literally stuffed myself like the foodie that I am. #noregrets

So I’m here, 19 years and counting, and I learned what simplicity means in my 18th year of life. That is my accomplishment. I didn’t need everything I used to want or think I needed to be happy. **Gets off soapbox**

Thanks for reading!!! xoxo

“As you simplify your life, the laws of the universe will be simpler; solitude will not be solitude, poverty will not be poverty, nor weakness weakness.”
― Henry David Thoreau