Post Thanksgiving Pooch

Last night I ate dinner with my mother at Hipster Paradise aka Pho Cafe in Silverlake. And while eating out anywhere with the woman who produced me can be embarrassing, last night I felt a little cringe worthy as well. I blame the bright red Banana Republic sweater I was wearing and the dinner roll I was carrying around my midsection. How can I be eastside cool after spending 6 days in Denver eating Pub Mix, seeing PG 13 movies with teenagers (Morning Glory!, Harry Potter!!) and playing endless games of Dora the Explorer with a three year old? It was culture shock indeed. But you know what might get me back into Los Angeles starvation diet mode? Giving up the large bowls of noodles and the continual perusal of this blog.

Quick someone hand me a Kombucha.
Or meet me for coffee and American Spirits at Intelligentsia.

Or play some bootleg Thom Yorke while we stare at candles.

Hell, can you at least have the decency to mistakenly offer me a twenty for a handjob outside of 4100?With your help and hers, I know I can do this city proud.

Shot through the heart and they're to blame...

I remember back in college I had a girlfriend who moved in with her rich, handsome and slightly older bf. Their place was beautiful; crown molding, high ceilings and hard wood floors. She was the first of my friends to shack up and I was in awe of her domestic bliss. I also embarrassed to remember being totally obsessed with the photos they had of themselves that decorated the place. Many were framed and black and white. Some looked post coital. In each they both looked gorgeous, happy and so freaking in love. I vowed then and there that some day I too would find a boyfriend (who was tall enough for me to date), and who would also make me look like a fucking supermodel in photos that featured us kissing.

10 years later, I'm sad to report that while I found the tall men, I never got the photos. And even though now I know it's kind of gouache and regular dudes don't want to take these photos, I still secretly wish I could find lover who longed to make out with me on camera. This coupled with my more than an ironic love for Lifetime movies and my obsession with cheap Chardonnay proves that there are large parts to my womanhood that I'm just not proud of.

With all that noted, I'm sure you can understand why these photos affected me so deeply.

This couple doesn't even care that there's a wedding going on around them, their urge to kiss is too great! Help, I'm being reduced back to my 20 year old self.


I'm trying to be rational and tell myself these are not normal "first look" photos. I've think been a part of enough weddings to know that most people do not look this blissful/relaxed a half hour before the nuptials, right? But honestly, are these two going to consummate their nuptials BEFORE the ceremony?


I hate them for looking so blissfully happy but am also impressed that their love is somehow strong enough to absorb any stress that other less in love people might have been feeling just moments before the big event.


Or maybe this guy is a photographic genius. I just can't tell any more. You guys, am I crazy to still be envious of photos like these or are they too much? Please advise.

We're in good company-

Joan Didion is also uncomfortable by all the blogging that's going on in the world right now. And before you get all impressed with my hip 70's author reference, in full disclosure I admit that my very well read friend Erin A. actually sent me the link to this article. I myself have only read one Joan Didion book (Play It as It Lays) and would never be cool enough to have come across this myself.

Now let's all turn off our computers, climb into our cars and just drive until the freeway stops. I'll pack the Coke.

An open letter to a little princess

Dear The Only Fashion Princess,

I'd like to say upfront I think you're super cute. You remind me of young Fiona Apple and I like that you often smile in your photos, Ol' Sweatercups could take a note from you (we can both agree that today's tutu was bananas, right?). Even though you maybe have chosen the silliest name ever for your blog, I forgive you because you are only 17 and from the Netherlands and maybe something got lost in the translation. What I'm trying to say is that I like you. I like your blog. And it's with love that I write you this letter.

Girlfriend, we need to have a talk. The other day you posted this picture on your blog with this short snippet. "très chic. Do I have to say more?"

(from fashionising)

Yes. Yes, you do. Honey, you just posted a picture of a woman wearing the Bride of Frankenstein's leopard power suite mixed with Price Charming's (the Cinderella one) shoulder pads.

And I haven't even gotten to the fringe! Maybe it's our age difference, but foot long arm fringe that resembles a horse's mane is not what pops into my mind whenever someone says "tres chic." I reserve that for gals like Jackie Kennedy, Audrey Hepburn or hell even Katie Holmes on a good day. In my mind almost anyone is tres chic-er than your leathery Brigitta with her thick gold chain and a bad spray tan. Next time add a few more sentences. State your thesis and then prove it. I'm really interested to hear why you think this is stylin' because right now I'm overwhelmed with all the comments on your blog telling you that they agree. HOW DO THY AGREE WITH YOU? Why is no one explaining this to me? Am I that out of touch with your generation?! Is this like how my mother doesn't understand Facebook? Am I old enough to be your MOTHER?

I'm sorry. Maybe this is more about me than you, I promise to settle down if you promise to go back to being a sweet little Criminal who Shadowboxes. Oh and congrats on finding that perfect silver blazer that you'd been looking for. I'm really proud of you.

xoxo,
Your pal Hal

Can I be a Mrs. today?

OK I have a confession. I want to be a Mrs. Not because I am in love or entering the last decade in my life where it's safe to have babies. Nope, I want to be fabulous and married because of this blog. I"ll admit, I really don't even understand the point of Mrs. Lilien's epic collages besides making us mortals feel incredibly dowdy and un-fabulous. Everything she posts is an array of vintage inspired, perfectly lux, and totally chic. Her images are complete throw backs to the 50's and 60's and make me want to burn my denim collection and only wear A line dresses and pearls. It also reminds me of the time in college when I tried to work "swell" into my daily vocabulary until my roommate told me I sounded like an asshole. I still mourn for that word.

Here's just a smattering of what I can't stop thinking about:

Mrs. Sunday- because how fabulous would life be if you actually read the paper with a monocle? Or even still read the paper?


And what if the the only thing you worried about when giving presents was how perfectly it represented the receiver. Not how much it cost? Life is grand when you don't have a budget and a house with a gift closet!
And how great would you feel about yourself if you ever looked this fabulous (and happy) while grocery shopping? Weeee balsamic vinegar! Life is grand!


Did I mention all of her descriptions rhyme? Seriously, it's so intimidating.

Driven to drink

Remember Kath, the nutritional yeast loving "dietitian" that started it all? Well I didn't think her blog could make me feel any worse about myself and my frozen yogurt for dinner habit until I read this post. Kath is currently vacationing in Sonoma but instead of blogging about all the wine she's drinking (what I/most plebeians would have done), she's declard this as her "drink of the week:"
Cafe au Lait!!!! I myself would have picked something from the Chardonnay family, but I think by now we all know that Kath and I are not cut from the same cloth. To add insult to injury Kath also posted photos of the herself after the 4.3 mile run she took. And look how self satisfied she looks:


When I go wine tasting, it looks more like this:


Note that while I too look smug, I also appear to be cockeyed. I guess that because when in wine country I aim to over-consume wine. Call me an alcoholic.

I really took this last photo from her post personally. It's like she's boasting her piousness and sobriety in front of me while I dry heave into the toilet.


Kath! I get it! You're healthier/better/less drunk than me. But for the love of God, get off that stump and start swinging some Pinot!

Now can someone hold my hair?

Scary new dating trends

You know what's worse than being single for the first time in 6 1/2 years? Reading about a beautiful happy couple and their ability to dedicate a whole weekend to each other and Bah Mi. So you can understand why I visibly flinched when I came across this blog today. Not only is Liz pretty enough to pull off a Native American blanket/sequin mini combo, she also just "dedicated another weekend to searching out new eateries around the city." Just her, that sweater, her man and some baklava.

Can someone tell me why more and more guys seem quite happy to spend the weekend taking pictures of their pretty girlfriends with fashion blogs? Is this a thing I missed by not being on the dating scene for a while? At what point in the courtship does a gal say, "Honey, this weekend we'll go for walk, grab a glass of wine and then take 300 fashion street shots of me in my Marni?" Or is more of a bargaining technique? "Yes babe, I will go see Jackass 3D with you but only if you shoot this vintage inspired pictorial first." How do these girls find boyfriends who happen to be skilled photographers? Is there a box to check for it on Match? A board on Craigslist? Does he pick her up at the Barney's sample sale? How do these soul mates meet?!!!

Being single is weird.