My Favorite Things: Perfume

I have a thing for smelling good. I hate leaving the house without a spritz of perfume. Perfumes are one of those things that make me feel complete. This is going to sound a tiny bit crazy, but I feel they take a group of garments and turn them into an outfit. They make me showered to clean and ready. They take me from awake to alive.


I really love perfume.
I wasn't kidding.

And I've gathered quite the collection over the years.

My relationship with perfume is a long one. So here it is.

me, loving one perfume best 

When I first started wearing perfumes every day, I started with the sweet, fruity ones like Ralph by Ralph Lauren. That one stuck for years; I was very into the signature scent school of thought. Like Belle in Beauty and the Beast when the shopkeepers like "girl, you've read that book!" and she's all "I don't care. Im gonna read it again."


That's right; I'm Belle in this story.

there are other perfumes? say WHAT

Later, I switched it up with florals when I discovered Stella by Stella Mccartney. I was extraordinarily loyal to my Stella, and still am in my heart. I still have a few bottles of Stella and Stella Fresh which I use regularly.

HELLS YES.

Then, about three years ago now, I realized something: by sticking to only one perfume, I was missing out on a myriad of scents. I could be wafting about smelling completely different and yet entirely like myself every day. Suddenly the walls of Sephora weren't just a shimmering collection of lights and glass, but a library of possibilities. I felt like Belle when Beast is all "here's a whole ton of books (ps please love me)" and she's all "What the WHAT? Awesome." Then she gives herself a mental high five.

Anyways, I became a woman of many perfumes. Not surprisingly, my collection expanded fairly quickly. After looking at them for a moment, I realized that I had, once again, fallen into a particular type of perfume: French, classic, and sexy. You might say that my perfume collection has matured as I have matured. Or you can say I have a weakness for Chanel. You would be right on either count.

Either way, my favorites right now are all have a crisp, old-world feel to them. On my nightstand, where they live, I have Eau de Fleures Néroli by Chloé, Chanel Allure, Coco Mademoiselle and it's predecessor, Coco, Love, Chloé by Chloé, and the recently rejuvenated classic Chanel No. 19 Poudré. I love them all for their subtlety and playfulness, their familiarity and  substantiality, but most of all for their sense of self.

Basically, I love them because they are everything a good book is.


And isn't that what all good perfumes should be?

So now you know my favorites, what are some of yours?

Sometimes Weeks are Crazy.

This is one of those weeks. I'll see you all next week!

Bye, New York!

It's been quite a ride. 

I'll catch you on the flip side...

Wish List: Bedroom

inspiration

I'm not bringing any of my furniture with me when I move. See, it's all Ikea, so by the time I disassemble it, pay to ship it and put it back together, I might as well leave it all here and sell it to friends. Which I've done. This leaves me with a blank slate. And oh, oh so many options. A dangerous combination.

See, since we now have an apartment, another blank slate, I have of course been pouring over countless decorating blogs, magazines and websites in search of inspiration. Well, I've found more than my fair share of ideas. Indeed, flooded by paint chips and throw pillows, I eat, breath and dream in apartment design. Not that I have the money to buy the furniture or wallpapers I want. Or can paint the walls. Or go back in time and steal some chandeliers  from Versailles. Ok, I couldn't do that one anyways, but still.

So in an effort to rein it in a bit [laugh track], I've made a list of my essentials for when I get to Wisconsin. The essentials are a bed, storage, and light. I looked back though my pinterest boards and found some great inspiration. I then ventures onto the great wide internet and searched for hidden goodies in my price range. Here's what I found:

ikea bed frames, both under $200. WIN. 

i'd probably paint the mirror frame. and i love the glass cupboard  for shoes and accessories

pretty sheets, glory lamps and a little bit of sparkle

I'll keep you guys posted on how everything turns out!

Lookin' Good: Nail Time

I recently stopped biting my nails (for now...) and let me just say, I've grown accustomed to them.

see? look how long they are! (yes, this is long for me)

But I've also become absurdly stubborn as to what colors they are painted. I've become the overly strict father in [insert any 90's teen movie here]. I only like them either:
1) burgundy
           OR
2) french manicured up.

That is IT.
NO trendy halter tops or crazy parties for THESE nails.



But they do end up with Joseph Gordon-Levitt. So it ends up being a win.

But when it comes to pedicures... well, let's just say they're the rebellious, outsider/'loser' daughter who really sticks it to society with her creativity. These are the nails that get to show up to prom all prettied up after being an ugly duckling for the first 45 minutes of the movie; they're the ones who end up with Heath Ledger or Freddy Prinze Jr. Lucky bastards.

But this is not about winners and losers; its about pretty nails. And two sisters who, after looking harder at themselves, can find common ground and truly love each other while conveniently finding ridiculously handsome boyfriends.

Or it's about my nails.

spoiler: its about my nails. 

Moving... again and the Shove-Shame Spiral

SO I'm leaving New York.

I know.
 But I finally woke up from my post-grad haze, looked around and said "what the hell am I doing here?!?" So I applied to a bunch of jobs all over. Then, found out one of my best friends from college needed a roommate. A month later, here I am with a job, friends, cheese curds and apartment all waiting for me in Milwaukee. Im pleased with how things have unfolded.

 Now, all this is good an well. But it leaves the horrible truth that I must, once again, pack my belongings and drag it all to the glorious cheese state. This means packing.

this is not what me packing looks like.

I am no moving novice; this is not my first rodeo. I'm a California girl who went to school in the midwest, which necessitated packing and moving my crap across the country twice a year. Still, after four years and countless hours of sorting and folding and stuffing and cursing*, I am still not very good at packing.I truly and deeply loath packing. More accurately, I hate the last 10% of packing when you keep finding crap you couldn't fit in that last suitcase or box. I call this roller coaster of emotion the shove-shame spiral. It starts about two thirds of the way though the packing process.

 At this point, you've packed you're favorite things. There are no more sleigh bells, no more mittens; you're down to the stuff you honestly kind of forgot about. You tell yourself, great! A chance to cull your belongings and finally free yourself from consumerism! You can live that minimalist life you've always dreamed of! (Or thought about vaguely before shrugging and watching chopped instead). You can be that lady picking flowers! You can have a white couch! You can go to the farmers market! You can LIVE the anthropology dream!!! And then a dust bunny cheerily floats across your room.

This is when it hits you that you have to CLEAN after you pack. Thus begins the shove-shame spiral. Suddenly, you get itchy from the dust and you realize how long its been since you showered. Whats that smell? Good God: it's you. You catch a glimpse in the mirror. You're not glowing from exercise like you supposed; you're tired and haggard form working! Thats it. WORST DAY EVER.

After this you pout for about an hour, occasionally picking things up and playing with them, briefly forgetting your woe until you look around you and remember your cursed fate. A glimpse at the clock makes you realize how much time you've wasted. Defeated, you throw up your hands like you're mom told you to stand up straight. FINE, self; I'll keep packing.

 Then you put on "Into the Woods" or "Wizard of Oz" and start just shoving stuff into boxes or already-full suitcases. Before the first act is half way though, you're done and still feeling a little resentful.

 Then you remember about bacon and happily skip off.

"yaaaaay!!!! bacon!!!!"

 So that's my usual packing ritual. To be fair, this has always been done when I have literally 24 hours between my last final and my flight. But not this year. I'm going to outsmart the shove-shame spiral this year by giving myself a whole week to pack instead of the post-finals flurry I'm accustomed to. With luck, determination and a LOT of musicals, I will pack up my things and live to tell the tale.





 *(and one unfortunate time when the storage at school was all filled up. I thought my things would have to be abandoned like puppies in a box on the highway and i melted into a puddle of tears in the very center dorm hallway on top of my sad boxes at 2am. not my proudest moment.)

Post-Grad Thoughts

So it has officially been over a year since I graduated from college, and here’s what I think: The first year out of college is like a giant, year-long hangover: you know it has to end, but you just can’t seem to shake it and you just feel awful and NO ONE sympathises, unless theyre either hungover too or recently hung over. I think that’s pretty accurate right? good luck, recent grads.