Monthly Archives: August 2012

Summer, I loved you.

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So it is a holiday weekend and we are taking it off (you should too). This weekend marks the end of summer, and in the spirit, you should get outside, eat some popsicles (a la Kate Upton), and crack open a few bottles of Summer Ale.

As a farewell (until Tuesday), enjoy this picture of the coolest dog in New York City. We met at the park on a particularly romantic summer evening and like most summer romances it ended with the changing of the wind. I miss him. He has shoes.

Have a great one people! Enjoy yourself!






Thirsty Thursday: Once I spent the night with Louis C.K. …

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… and my boyfriend … and it was totally awesome.

This past Monday, Louis C.K. announced that he was going to be doing three separate shows at The Bell House in Gowanus that night.  Tickets were $10 a pop, two per person, but the real kicker was that you had to buy them in person.  Considering I work in Mid-Town Manhattan there was no way I was going to be able to get there in time.  Thankfully, my pal Andy lives a few blocks away and no less than an hour later (with the help of a rando on a bike, not a joke) we were hooked up with four tickets and a pretty sweet double date.

The raddest part about the evening is that he was just practicing new material (see how his tickets say, “Working on his hour of new material”?).  He just brought out a notebook and a pen and tried a bit and then at the end made notes about it, like, “Oh man, we gotta trim the fat on that bit, that was way too long and only half good.”  In a way, it almost made it cooler, and by almost, I mean it totally did.  

When I was on my way home, it honest to god felt like I had been working out for 2 hours, that is how badly my abs hurt from laughing.  Which tells you a few things, primarily that walking from my cubicle to the company kitchen 15 times a day in no way equals exercising, well, that and that Louis is the absolute man.

 

Situational Dressing: You got two hours of sleep after the beer pong Saturday night but don’t want to waste your Sunday.

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Sometimes being a grown up is exhausting and monotonous. Happy hour can’t come soon enough. Lately, I have been feeling guilty about running on empty. Feeling like I should be staying home more.  Staying in to sleep, organize my closet/bedroom/thing, and clean the dishes that my roommate and I have been having a starring contest with for a week. But recently I was at a party with my coworker, telling her about this odd guilt I have been having, she looked me dead in the eye and told me, “Carpe Diem Molly!” Seize the day. It was half a joke, but you know what, that biatch is right.

This past Saturday I found myself getting in a little late (or early, rather). A game of beer pong turned into a spanish speaking only cab ride down to meatpacking turned into eating a leftover a Katz’s Deli chopped liver sandwich while dancing to Chris Brown in a Mexican sun dress (what both my roommate and I wear to sleep in, sexy, we know). Enough said.

Obviously we were late getting to bed, but God help me if we were not going to enjoy the next day. A rule to live by: if you can’t be productive the next day, you’ve had too much. Or if you did have too much, learn to fight through it. There is nothing worse than wasting a beautiful Sunday in the city (Post on weekending the city to come, stay tuned).

SO, what does one wear when moderately hungover on a Sunday in the city? Obviously it depends on the schedule of events, but if it is nothing overtly specific it is good to have a go to summer weekend getup to bounce around in. This is me in mine during a sneak gram attack. I was also trying out my camera.

I have never been one to sleep in late. I actually hate it. I can totally get my act together on little sleep with severe dehydration. My remedy: A diet gingerale followed by a large iced coffee followed by protein in the form of a large brunch. DO NOT MESS THIS ORDER UP. You will regret it.


(Blazer: The Reformation, Tank: Gap Body, Shorts: Vinatge Levis, Shoes: Converse, Bag: Madewell, Sunglasses: Urban Outfitters)

The key to dressing for a Sunday in the city is comfort. While I do like my heels and skirts, summer in Manhattan can become a bit unpredictable (aka, you may or may not be climbing rocks in Central Park, so be prepared). Also, I always need a jacket. Who knows where you will be brunching and if it has patio seating or not. This blazer is my new best friend. I bought her on SALE at The Reformation (birthplace of all of my favorite pieces/everything I own). I also am wearing my over-sized denim diaper – 10 bucks at a vintage place in the East Village - until the leaves are on the ground. Love the cutoffs. Also, do not forget the sunglasses. Key to hiding the leftover mascara you were too lazy to take off and the unavoidable bags under your eyes. KEY. 

All and all, anything over-sized goes. You should try it. Moral of the post: Get your butt out of your dump of an apartment, dress in something obnoxiously too big, and go to a crappy street fair that smells like weird meat and sells used baseball caps. The city is amazing and to miss a beautiful day is a sin, A SIN I TELL YOU!






What is more chic than tennis? Nothing.

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Yesterday marked the first day of the U.S. Open. YES! I GET TO GO! Aside from the fact that the majority of the players are attractive, I am not really sure where my fascination and obsession for the sport began. I don’t really know how to play, unless you are counting the 2 weeks we played in Middle School gym class (you shouldn’t count that because I spent the majority of the time worried I was going to get in trouble for rolling the band of my navy Soffee shorts one too many times). All I  know is that one of my earliest memories are of me sitting on the edge of the couch and my mother handing me a rice cake and turning the television to Wimbledon. I loved it. I was actually fortunate enough to go to Wimbledon when I was studying abroad in London a few years back (I look like a baby). I romped around, ate the strawberries and cream, bought memorabilia, and was shushed by a funny British man for talking too loud. I loved it.

Tennis really is the superior sport. The royals all attend it. Nadal. Celebrites make cameos. Nadal. They have cute little white outfits. Nadal.  ANYWAYS, it is the best and you should set your DVRs for it now. It’s fun, it’s chic, and it’s awesome, and as of now it is AMERICAN.

In honor of the games, American Vogue hosted a little design collaboration. They asked 11 designers and one tennis star to design a tennis ball of their own. I am in love. How cute are they? I think my favorite is Pamela Love’s. I also have a crush on her so I am biased. Which one is your favorite?

I will update you next week after I go. Cross your fingers it is Nadal. I will be sippin’ on the Honey Duces and keeping my volume under control. Be jealous.

 

 






My ode to history. No, but seriously, I love a good walking tour.

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When Molly and I first met, we instantly bonded on a lot of fronts: our love of tequila, our penchant for dramadies on BBC America,  our feelings towards the Kansas Jayhawks.  While you might be thinking, “So what?  Who doesn’t love to throw back a shot of Cuervo when flipping between a KU basketball game and Sherlock on a Sunday night?”  there was one particular similarity we shared that was really for the record books, historical walking tours.  It is really hard to find someone else who too shares your passion for running behind a freakishly short and incredibly angry graduate student from Columbia who wears Keens and drones on about the working conditions of Jewish immigrants in the Lower East Side in the 1860s while working in bits of her dissertation presentation about an entirely different period of history.

While the above description might not sound like a glowing recommendation, trust me when I say, it is.  Walking tours are phenomenal.  For further proof, please see my face in the above image.  That is a face completely enraptured and totally oblivious to the fact that I may or may not have been on a walking tour with Tobias Funke from Arrested Development.

Ah, yes.  Here we are at the Bloody Angle; one of the most dangerous intersections in New York City.  It is located in Chinatown and one of the last stops on the Gangs of New York Tour.  This street is so dangerous because the block is literally at a right angle, meaning those on one side of the corner are unable to see what is happening just a few feet away.  At one point in the “turf war” history of the neighborhood, two rival gangs controlled each side of the angle, and battles would wage at the corner involving hatchets.  IN FACT, in 1994, law enforcement officials said that more people died violently at the “Bloody Angle” than at any other street intersection in the United States.

Obviously, we stopped to take a picture.

While I’m a huge nerd tool bag, and so is Molly, (No offense, Molls, I’d say it to your face) that doesn’t mean that walking tours aren’t awesome and rad and interesting.  Go on one, please, I  beg of you.  You’ll learn so much and then be able to tell all your friends when you walk by those landmarks.  FOR EXAMPLE, did you know that the Triangle Shirtwaist Factory Fire occurred at a building that is right off of Washington Square Park?  Like, located in the same block as the NYU Starbucks where I guzzled Venti iced coffees and pretended to write my memoir three summers ago?  I bet you didn’t.  History is all around us, people.  Go enjoy it before it becomes a Starbucks, and if it does become a Starbucks, at least take a moment to appreciate it before you order a latte.