beats & treats

golden slumbers fill your eyes

2012-02-10T09:23:00.000-08:00

Things I am currently obsessed with...

*M.I.A's video for "Bad Girls"...I mean, DEAR. LORD. The gold, the cars, the choreography, the scarves, the sequins, the desert, the FILING OF THE NAILS IN THE MIDDLE OF A DRAG RACE. This is now a television show, broadcast solely in brain called Arabian Dayz. She epitomizes originality and straight up badassness. This is serious. There is no other M.I.A. or even anybody remotely close.

*The Myth of Freedom by Chogyam Trungpa Rinpoche. Despite your faith, I think it's crucial to explore other spiritualities and truly understand them. Once you do that, you realize that the funniest thing is we're all trying to reach the same place, it's just different ways of going about it. This Buddhist text focuses on creating space, being present, and dealing with things as they are. Accepting external chaos as inspiration and resting superficial ambitions to find an inner, unshakable peace. I may not ever become a Buddhist but I am so grateful to have familiarized myself with the knowledge and the practice.

*The artists I'm working with on The Voice. Listen, I have guttural laughs, genuine tears and head to toe chills when I read their blog posts. The most inspiring I've read was one of the artists talking about how she would sing no matter what - even if no one thought she was good, she would keep singing because that's what makes her happy. (AHHH!) How beautiful is that? We are all so concerned with how refined our art is in a technical sense but in the end, you know that you love what you love if you'd do it regardless of the feedback you got. Or in my applicable-to-all analogy, if you were stuck in a cabin somewhere in the middle of a forest forever with nowhere to go and nobody else around. (Because that's the truest you, without any bells and whistles and resumes and list of interests.) What would you do? Who would you be?

left my heart in st. petersburg

2012-02-09T19:39:00.000-08:00

This is breathtaking.

control

2012-02-08T14:32:00.000-08:00

My lower back has been aching. And not just my back, my hips too. Not a sharp pain - well today it turned into a sharp motherfucking pain - the kind that creeps into your forehead, when your head hits the pillow and you close your eyes, after too many gin and tonics. The kind that feels like a miniature tornado inside your bones, scraping the sides with something dull. In short, like Chinese water torture. Yep. Good times.

Your hips and lower back hurt? Interesting...

No, I WISH that was the cause. I've been tense. Tense and stressed and crouched over a laptop screen making sure everything is in it's place and the world isn't exploding without me knowing it (because I have to know when that will happen...spoiler alert, ya'll). I'm happy, yes. I'm present, yes. That peace in my soul still sitting there. I imagine a tiny Buddha-like Elizaveta, with attire similar to that angelic empress of Neverending Story fame, listening to Sigur Ros in an ivory cabana of sorts. But that doesn't mean I am not...alert. (Being really nice to myself with word choice here).

Over a delightful happy hour of Bourdeoux, truffle fries and beef carpaccio, I decided to bring this up to my friend Molly, whose demeanor perfectly matches her livelihood: yoga instructor. (Tranquil people - what's that about?) "Molly, my hips HURT. A dizzy, noxious pain. Like they are tired of carrying weight." "I hate to tell you but you carry all emotional stress in your hips. Deep intense stuff even yoga classes won't relieve." "Oh, good. Another glass of wine! Please! WAITER!"

Dear lord. What emotional stuff? What stuff? I am 1) excellent at making myself happy - I know what to do, who to call, where to go and 2) if I'm not trying to distract by making myself happy, I address the shit. I do! I've become rather skilled in sitting with my anxiety or sadness or loneliness, whatever the negativity is, and just letting it be. Creating space. Being aware and perceiving it as inspiration, rather than chaos. You know, just a little guide to whatever will come of it all - some acts of ingenuity are born of barriers. (I've also been reading a lot of Buddhist text lately, so yeah).

I had to meditate on this: what is causing my hips to feel like they're carrying this insane load? I'm enthusiastic about my work! I love it! I'm productive! I don't procrastinate. I don't make to-do lists - I just start doing. Well, friends. Epiphanies are also many times (most of the time) born of chaos. I realized today, between answering emails and phone calls and sending out articles / stats of success, creating pitches, thinking, strategizing, writing, drawing, organizing, editing...all the freaking things...I cannot let go. I am addicted to doing. To taking charge. Control. "This can be SO great! Please let me make it amazing.." pleads Crazy Brain about EVERY. LITTLE. THING. And it's not even that I don't trust. I do. But then I want to polish it up. You know, iron out the kinks and make it...PERFECT.

Woah there. THAT GUY. That's it. I learned long ago that perfect happens to be the enemy of good. How many times does poisonous perfect get in the way of action? Or collaboration? Or just fucking starting? Or being kind and really listening to others' input? And giving them a minute to collect their thoughts? Without interrupting with your brilliant idea? And me trying to let go is HEElarious. But mostly sad. Really sad. (Sigh). I've seen it so prominently in others lately too: when something really is about making things good and happy and a collaboration... or when it's simply a control thing. The worst part is that often times, the outcome isn't as good or the work doesn't flow as naturally because of this control thing (hi, ego, hiiiiii!). We all want to same result. We just can't agree on how to get there...and then it's NO my idea is better than your idea. I just know it.

I always get so disheveled when someone in my group of friends doesn't take charge on something: why can't someone else plan this? Why can't someone else be the one to make a decision? Why do I have to do everything? Well guess what, little lass? You've set it up that way. You've made it clear to the universe that you want to be in charge. If you don't trust anyone to do the job, then the job simply won't get done...because your aggressive, watchful shadow is rearing its ugly head and not only not giving you space, its creating claustrophobes out of everyone else. Now figure out how to give an inch...otherwise, be prepared to own the entire mile.

HUH. OK then. Take some weight off of those hips. Time to let someone else take over. Trust that things will get done. More grandly, trust life. That things will pan out just the way they should. Give your input, explain yourself, and then listen. Learn. Open up. Or at least co-own the damn things...

jo

2012-02-02T13:24:00.000-08:00

"Are you drunk?"

"What?"

After looking down at her glass for a minute, realizing she was drinking mostly ice from her 4th cocktail, Jo broke into a delicious laughter.

"Yes! Too much gin. 1 million cocktails."

Oscar shook his head and smiled back at her. He found it nearly impossible for his mind to wander seamlessly into judgement, the way it so easily did on topics of alcohol, drug use, promiscuous sex and all other recreational activities enjoyed by his cohorts, as well as most of this city's circles. Jo's chocolate eyes sparkled and her guttural laugh, inspired by equal parts authenticity and charm, were more intoxicating than the beverages she was now sucking the last drops from. She swayed back and forth and stumbled over her sentences, requesting cigarettes from Oscar's friends, along with dirty phrases in French. The weight of her boots along with the weight of the drink made it seem like she was a tower of wood pieces stacked in an unfortunate manner, toppling with just the right embrace of the calf or ankle rotation.

"Oooh. What about 'take off your clothes?"

She glanced at Oscar, signaling for a light and lowering her shiny eyelashes methodically in a way that would imprison air in his lungs. Seconds would pass and then he would take notice and start to breath again, his diaphragm dropping and rising quicker than before, the prisoner out but desperately scrambling for escape.

"Don't be ridiculous Jo. No one would actually say it that way."

There was a fine line between obnoxiousness and irresistible charm for her juvenile, unladylike behavior. Typically it was the former for Oscar, who prided himself in telling actresses who saw more bars than auditions they were "too caught up" or serving subtle jabs to vodka-breathed scene dwellers who had little to offer besides their liver capacities and promoter-heavy address books. But Jo was different. Jo was somehow unaffected. Despite her shameless drinking, hiccups and roars, there was an innocence about her. A childlike fascination that remained unhardened by the dark rooms, empty eyes and dropped names. Her wide eyes would look around, smitten and enthusiastic. She asked at least 5 questions of everyone she met and never failed to laugh at someone's joke to break discomfort, even if it wasn't funny. It seemed she was willing to take the burdening embarrassment rather than watch someone else suffer through it.

Her appearance matched her childlike fascination. The long sheets of burnt, sparkling chestnut; the honey and rose freckled shell, the bare round face ornamented by thick straight brows and tiny dimples. The uninhibited giggles that seemed to never end. If not for her height and layers of clothing, intended for 1970s groupies and washed out James Brown impersonators, her lanky frame would suggest to the doormen that they should request identification and maybe even quiz the patron for its details. But like a child, Jo wanted everybody to like her and dreaded disapproval the way she dreaded an empty glass.

Oscar watched her boy like frame glide from circle to circle, hair gleaming from the full moon beaming on the Raspberry Room's caged patio. She asked Henri about his wire-framed round glasses. Then Stephen about his bike, parked not too far from where they stood. Then Georgia about her recent job, which went well but didn't pay nearly enough. She laughed at every joke and told some of her own, mostly bad ones that still received approving chuckles, even if synthesized.

This girl, he thought. This girl will make one hell of a 75 year old woman. One that wears minks, has grape cotton candy hair and drinks Hendricks with her oatmeal.

"Oscar my love, it should be no surprise I am headed to the bar. What would you like to drink?" she sang, almost perfectly on cue as evidence to his observation, her dark diamond eyes flashing warmth into his chest cavity. He put his arm around her dainty shoulders, covered this lucky evening by a sapphire fur coat and pulled her close. She started laughing like she was being masterfully tickled to death by an older sibling. Then she lost her balance and they fell a few inches into a brick wall. It was painless, just like Jo's innocent drunkenness. "My order is a bourbon for me and a water for you." "OK. I will get that for you and I will also stop slamming you into brick walls. Don't you dare talk about French pick up lines without me."

carnies and gypsies

2012-02-01T14:18:00.000-08:00

A photo of me that my dearest Vanessa Black took at a carnival themed party. She is one talented little lady. Expect big things.

on being neal cassady

2012-01-30T08:44:00.000-08:00

"Neal Cassady was beloved for his ability to inspire others to love life." I scribbled that on a napkin moons ago and hung it on my fridge: a friendly reminder to make others know how talented/wonderful/beautiful they are while casually reaching for my orange juice each morning. At the time, reading that one sentence about the beat generation's muse illuminated something in me. It made my heart sing a little. A lightbulb went off. I made a conscious decision for that to be my personal mantra: inspire others to love life. That is what I'm put on this earth to do. Nothing would make me happier.

How lovely it is to make others feel as elated as they're supposed to feel just being alive! And not just any others, specifically, close friends. Parental encouragement begins to lessen in meaning around age 20. We realize our parents aren't superheroes and their judgement calls are as human as ours. Plus, they're our parents. It's their job to think we're the most thrilling thing that has ever graced this earth. It's science. We all need to be reminded of our light once in a while; just a match to ignite a toasty, crackly stream of warmth. That means more warmth in the world - the heat isn't contained in the flames.

Well, that's worked out well for me. I've always felt happy being a shoulder to lean on, an open ear, an inspiration, a muse, your own personal cheerleader. Whatever you need to feel your worth, I've got you covered! And for real. I'm a deadly combo of opinionated and horrible actress - I look like a deer in the headlights when I lie. Careers in politics / theater were out for me, long long ago. But a life coach? Promising! It's only recently that I've realized that to execute my mantra in the most pure, genuine way, I have to be able to do that for myself first. It seems counter inuitive: in order to be generous, you first have to be selfish. In order to give, you first have to take. But it's quite the opposite. To love and strengthen someone wholeheartedly, you have to have enough to give. Meaning that you're running on full internally - not just havsies, giving out tiny bits and pieces to every single person you know and living your own life on fumes. Branches grow best when there's a sturdy trunk, roots firmly planted. And for all of us cheerleaders, we know that sometimes you give so much that you don't even know you're depleted until one day, after a pleasant Sunday brunch, you get in your car and start driving, only to then pull over and start weeping. Like, hysterical ugly crying, complete with a swollen face, hiccups and a subsequent call to your mother. Hypothetically speaking, of course.

The thing is, I'm good at encouraging. I'm good at pep talks. I am always willing to lend an ear and like to think I give pretty ok advice too. I will ask you 5 million questions, Barbara Walters style, because I'm genuinely interested. My actual paying job involves promoting others and helping them make their dreams come true. And you know what? I love it. It's so satisfying to watch that happen for someone and to think you had some part in it all. But the trouble comes when you neglect your dreams. When you spend so much time being someone else's support that you forget to be your own.

From the day I put that napkin on my fridge, I've always thought "I'm OK being Neal Cassady. I don't have to be Ginsberg or Kerouac. It's rewarding enough to be someone's inspiration. Selflessness amounts to freedom from ego. " But I only now realize that that's not me being selfless - that's actually me just being scared. It's much more difficult to decide you want something and start doing it, rather than just supporting that notion. Being great is a burdensome responsibility. Exposing everything you have to offer is terrifying. What if it's not good enough? What if you lay it all out on the table and it gets rejected? What are you left with? Most people shy away from their own light - it's much easier to be...you know...average or just to not even go there at all. To say "oh yeah yeah...I've got this brilliant talent. I just haven't unleashed it yet. But I will someday." This is why Beyonce has millions of fans but there is only one Beyonce. (Any opportunity I get to bring Bey into the conversation, I take. Deal with it).

Until recently, I had actually forgotten (FORGOTTEN!) how much I love to write. How satiating it is to share thoughts and stories with someone you may never meet. More importantly, to describe a situation that resonates, that moves and stirs, that makes someone feel they're in the middle of your avalanche, your war, your circus. Little me would be disappointed with recent me: what about the codependent relationship you had with your typewriter at age 10? (All those introverted years!) Getting carsick on family vacations because, despite your mother's wishes, the nose wouldn't leave the book? All the musicals and plays you'd write and perform on holidays with your friends? Little me is now shaking her head and taking her anger out in an awkward little haiku. (Friends, this should explain a thing or two about me).

I've just reminded myself so I'm reminding you too: we are all talented. We all have something to offer. We can all be creators, thereby, connecting us closer to God. He's the most creative one of all, right? It doesn't benefit you or the world to piggyback on someone else's desires. Yes, we should all support one another. But we should be authentic in our contributions. If your dream is being a talent manager or a promoter or gallery director - that's amazing! Go with that. But if you're doing something simply because it's easier than fulfilling the wishes of that 10 year old, think it over. You may be depriving the world of something great.

chloe

2012-01-28T10:52:00.000-08:00

The crisp night air was foggy and intoxicating. A few cars flew by on the normally bustling street. Typically, the fluttering metal saturated the corner where her tidy building stood, drivers in a scurry to some important destination with headpieces and honking. But tonight there was stillness, with a few sporadic footsteps and headlights. She wished that she had kept this evening to herself to tackle the literature her mother ambitiously sent or perhaps drink sangria at Granada, exchanging witty anectodes and sex stories from the crypt with Jane.

She stepped out of her building, first through the dark jail-like gate that left everything but the hallway light visible to the outside world, then through the noisy garden gate, guarding all but an actual garden and open to anyone over 5'10 with common sense. There he was. Prince Charming #5, holding his arm out for her hand and gesturing into his old white Hyandai, with a Free Tibet sticker nonetheless. His eager expression coupled with his nervous hand immediately triggered her pesky inner voice that usually makes its way into later portions of the evening.

She let out a noiseless sigh and though knowing she should give a cheerful smile like you do on a first date, she gave a somewhat smug, somewhat smirk, lowering her eyebrows in a way that unimpressed young ingenues do on the red carpet after they've been nominated for their first Oscar. "You look nice," he said, hugging her perhaps accidentally, as she sunk into the car. "Thanks, so do you."

Prince #5 was Max, an aspiring TV writer from Islington in East London with neat pastel colored sweaters and an embarassed, nervous disposition she accepted, assuming most British people are slightly embarrassed and nervous. The ones she had known anyway. He asked her out in a sweeping statement at a tacky dive bar, which she found admirable and brave. "Excuse me," he interrupted the table of six somewhat intoxicated girls, drinking Shiraz, smoking Marlboros and being generally loud, "but I would really like to take you out. This is awkward. I'm sorry. What is your name?"

At this point, the lights were coming on and all the drugstore bought Tiki accents, Mexican wrestling masks and 70s porno posters showed in all their glory. The appeal of authenticity loses its luster upon well lit examination. "Chloe." "Chloe would you mind giving me yo numbah? I think you are beautiful." His voice sounded urgent, not warm. Presumably because the bartender started yelling "go home!" with salty glances toward their general vicinity. Normally, she'd say no or make up some lie about an ambiguous boyfriend named Ryan or Brian: no one questions the Ryan or Brian scheme. But this bravery needed to be rewarded. Men had forgotten what it meant to truly earn a woman. She felt it was her female duty to encourage this behavoir and oblige him.

And now as she rode in the stale smell of cigarettes, a bevy of scattered notebook paper and an awkward gentleman gripping his steering wheel as if he was about to have high tea with the Queen, whites of his knuckles evident to her lowered eyes everytime they passed a streetlamp, she was rethinking this decision. It wasn't that Max wasn't a nice guy or an interesting one even. It was that Chloe had developed a pattern that she was simultaneously annoyed by but also knew was her destiny. You see, she had already dated Max. (Many times.) She knew it wouldn't work out. She would tire of his useless pieces of Beat Generation trifles, talkative temperment, incessant questions of her life back home and "how crazy" it was that she has no accent and how visibly uncomfortable he would get in front of her friends.

He would pry and try to worm into her life and her perfectly ordered routines, agendas, and ideas. She would act oblivious and aloof, building another solid layer of brick around her space in fear of claustrophobia. And after date #3, she would stop taking his calls and replying to his meticulously witty yet succinct e-mails that had the potent aroma of the sitcom he penned. She would end it like she ends all the others. Without notice. Not because she was heartless or cowardly but because she found it far less humiliating to receive subtle hints than to be told "I don't want to see you anymore." Everyone is desperate for straight forward answers in matters of the heart until an undesirable one strikes like a fist, an agonizing reminder that emotions and rationale struggle to coexist. Her actions were more inspired by empathy than traditional dating protocal.

But they weren't quite there yet. Tonight, they were at a trendy tequila bar for tacos and margaritas, with a side of forced interest and incessant nodding. Between careful bites and salt crusted sips, Chloe learned that Max has a propensity to spend too much money on overpriced successories (the Moleskin scheme, he cleverly called it), was inspired by writers like Kurt Vonnegut and Hunter S. Thompson, and had developed a mild allergy to apples, although he loved them when was younger. He had two older sisters and a happily married set of parents and grandparents, all still in the UK. He found French new wave overrated and had developed an aggressive coffee and cigarettes addiction while studying at Uni. Aside the boring writer cliches, Chloe was enjoying his quirks. The nervousness turned from distracting to endearing. OK so this wasn't horrible.

photo: oracle fox

gold dust girl

2012-01-27T16:05:00.000-08:00

I'm working on something. This is part of it and also, my happy place...

She jangled her foggy glass and tipped it back and forth in front of one opened eye, letting the clear rocks form a kaleidoscope with the tangerine sunset. The ice had diluted the caramel liquid into the color of cola at the end of a thriller, touched only by its nervous owner's tight grip and foregone by his mouth. Upon getting a satisfactory level of entertainment from her cocktail-horizon tango, she put down her arm on the stiff plastic and leaned back, closing her eyes. The cheap rubber of her neon pink and white lawn chair squeaked the way new ones tend to and suddenly, she remembered she'd have stripes all over the exposed part of her summer skin.

Those stripes, much like pillow cheek marks, were once something to be giggled at and giddily anticipated in the days of Kool Aid and cardboard boxes and fresh green lawns awaiting imaginations to turn them into faraway lands. Now, she sighed lazily. That same imagination now tackled more practical topics, like what her thighs and back would look like with tiny maroon crevices in the neat pattern of a Walgreens chair. Her sigh reminded her the smell she knew so well, having visited her grandparents' vacation home since childhood. Not so much even the olfactory notes but the feeling of the dry, warm air in her nostrils. There was comfort in the hot air that blanketed her and the sun browning her skin from milk to honey. Tomorrow it would feel tender, especially in the parts that sunk into the crevices of the pink and white. But the cold bourbon that had just doubled as visual stimulation romanced her wits and convinced her this blissful moment would leave both her and her shell invincible...

you don't know jac

2012-01-17T13:50:00.000-08:00

#stunner

photo: vanessa jackman

beats & treats monday blues playlist

2012-01-16T14:30:00.000-08:00

As of late, I've had the privilege to contribute to You, Me, and Charlie, Dianna Agron's online arts and inspiration playground. If you haven't already, mosey on over there - daily goodies carefully curated to spark, impress and amuse! Today's post was dedicated to Montreal-based musical dreamweaver Grimes, who is one part Lykke Li, one part Cults, one part underground DJ and all parts delightful. (You can read the full entry here if you'd like...)

Writing about Grimes brought something to my attention: it has been ages since I've said a word about my most recent music crushes on my own blog, which defeats the whole "beats" portion of my moniker. Therefore, without further ado, I bring you a collection of jams for your Monday Blues. All the artists and songs I've been swooning over as of late in a nice, neat ongoing Spotify stream. (!!!)

beats & treats Monday Blues Playlist

What have you been listening to?

photo: ali mitton via oracle fox

andreea diaconu

2012-01-12T16:17:00.000-08:00

Hi. I'm ridiculous looking. #seriously?

I dare you to name someone prettier.

photos: citizen couture, tumblr

the desert

2012-01-11T12:21:00.000-08:00

My dearest Chelsea and I took a little day trip to Pioneertown on New Year's Day to start 2012 off with a rattlesnakey, arid bang. We had so much fun exploring, drinking Hefeweizens, divulging what we hope for in the year to come and listening to live 'desert folk' music. Teeny tiny adventures with your girlfriends are the best kind.

dia frampton the great

2012-01-05T13:02:00.000-08:00

I can't get over how much I adore the Where the Wild Things Are / Lord of the Flies inspired video 'The Broken Ones' from the lovely Miss Dia Frampton. The whimsical, storybook mood of the video matches Dia's unique, retro tone and airy, inimitable delivery perfectly. Plus let's face it, she looks positively stunning in it - the styling matches this Lost Boys tribal vibe impeccably. To see my snaps from the shoot, click click click.

Her album 'Red' is also definitely worth a listen - the quirky, folky-pop tracks include collaborations from Florence + The Machine, Foster the People and Kid Cudi. My favorites are "Don't Kick The Chair," "Daniel," and "Trapeze."

i'll be home for christmas

2012-01-02T11:59:00.000-08:00

By the time Christmas rolls around each year, I feel like it completely smacks me in the face unexpected. Regardless of the holiday-flavored treats gracing every menu, perpetual stream of Christmas music in your ears and endless parade of merriments and holiday parties, it still somehow feels like it sneaks up on you - usually around the 22nd or 23rd. But the greatest part is that all the scurrying and scrambling and holiday shopping and (GOOD LORD!) it always being the busiest time at work, the moment you walk in the door at home, the load is lifted. My exhaustion typically pours out of me.

As soon as I sit down on my parents' couch, wine in hand, wearing the equivalent of childhood long johns, I sink and can't move for at least 3-4 hours. Sometimes I even get a mini cold - my mother calls this "the tired coming out" - all the better reason to continue not moving, except to get tea or take a bath. After all, it's a rare moment of allowing myself peace and breaking the rhythm of productivity I know to be life.

This year was no different. The majority of time was spent sitting in dim lights, indulging in decadent snacks (HI. My mother literally purchases caviar and fancy truffles before our arrival. It's become somewhat of a silly tradition. This family loves being ridiculous.) and interchanging feel good movies with Saturday Night Live episodes.

I always get wayyy too ambitious too. Before I depart LA, I think to myself "This time, I shall go to Vail and take photographs with my father. Then I shall take my mother shopping and we'll get massages, followed by the best sushi in town. Then, my best friend and I can go to all the Happy Hours in Boulder. Then it shall rain skittles..." What ends up happening is me catching up on all the TV I never watch with my older sister, while we consume an absurd amount of snack food, tea and smoothies. (We both get excited at the thought of a blender but never buy one for ourselves. Ah, adulthood.)

I must say: this Christmas was magical! I had the best time simply doing nothing and by the time I got back to LA, I felt rejuvenated, shiny and ready for 2012. A good thing, considering New Year's is my favorite holiday of the year and it's much better to tackle the eve and prospect of a new chapter well-rested. I'm excited for all the things this year: for more change, more challenges to tackle, more friends, more adventures to write about, more divine inspiration, more beautiful things to photograph, more recipes to try/interests to explore/hobbies to take on, more...JUST MORE.

Happy New Year's everyone! I hope 2012 brings you much cheer, victories big and small, new people in your life, exciting ventures, sparks of genius, laughter, courage and happiness! I have a feeling it will be BRILLIANT...

Some snaps from home:

Stephanie's tree.

A brand new wall of photos for my BFF, including my favorite one of us.

Cocktails at Capital Grille.

...followed by espressos at Capital Grille.

Larimer Square.

Neighborhood market.

Me and all of the lights.

Corridor 44.

Champagne flutes: small, medium and large.

Christmas pup.

this thing called love

2011-12-26T23:49:00.000-08:00

Freddie was the greatest.

beats & treats: the 90s teen spirit

2011-12-22T19:15:00.000-08:00

She's typically adorned in velvet, floral, ripped denim and/or flannel of some sort. The crucifix is her go-to accessory and she listens to Sonic Youth, Nirvana and The Cranberries as if The Strokes, Arcade Fire and MGMT never happened. She can likely play the guitar like a pro and outdrink most boys you know. If you want to spark her interest when it comes to fashion, just drop two words: Steven Meisel. She's the 90s teen spirit and there are eight ways to make that rare smile appear, without mentioning Jordan Catalano.

1. Good Girl Gone Bad Bustier, $48

2. Dior Vernis Nail Lacquer in 'Tuxedo', $22

3. 'Grunge' by Thurston Moore and Michael Lavine, $17

4. Stanley Classic Flask, $22

5. Doc Martens 1460 Worn Broken-In Boot, $130

6. MAC Lipstick in Cyber, $14.50

7. Christian Roth Tinted Sunglasses, $450

8. Asos Johnstons Merino Wool Hat, $44

beats & treats gift guide: the modern day marie antoinette

2011-12-21T10:01:00.000-08:00

The self-described girly girl, this lovely lady buys roses every week for her apartment, bakes on the weekends and loves all things French, pink and gold. She's known to be the hostess with the mostest, and to look utterly beautiful while doing so - charming and dainty and sweet. Give this old soul gifts fit for a queen.

1. Chloé Rollerball, $25
2. Sacha Distel 'Best of Sacha Distel', $34
3. 'Le Petits Macarons: Colorful French Confections To Make At Home', $13
4. Steve Madden Karisma Bow Flat, $80
5. Slate Cheese Board, $48
6. Evie Envelope Clutch, $80
7. Lollia Butter Hand Cream, $24

beats & treats gift guide: the love child

2011-12-19T08:27:00.000-08:00

I'm a little late on the train for gift guides but then again if my readers are anything like me, not really all that behind because let's be honest, all of my holiday shopping usually begins around the 20th! So in this final stretch before the massive gift-giving bonanza, take a deep breath, go buy yourself a latte and if you want, don't even leave the coffee shop. I've got the goods to complete all your holiday shopping needs on the WWW. Read on for my first gift-receiving muse, The Love Child.

She reads Rumi, wears flowers in her hair and has always coined George her favorite Beatle. She gives you sound advice when you need it, has a peaceful, easy air about her and loves Big Sur more than any other place on earth. If playing guitar and listening to records was a religion, she'd be a devout follower. What's this modern day Stevie Nicks / Anita Pallenberg hybrid want? Likely nothing. She doesn't need more "things" maaaan. But if you want to bring a little more holiday to cheer to this already love-filled soul, be sure you to her stocking with any of these goodies!

1. 'Nowhere Boy' on DVD, $18
2. Wildfox Road Trip Sweater Dress, $117
3. House of Harlow Robyn Sunglasses, $138
4. Luv AJ Spiked Headpiece, $99
5. 'Big Sur' 8x12 Print, $50
6. Nordic Sweater Bag, $68
7. Diptyque Scented Candle in 'Verveine', $60

the trouble with being nice

2011-12-17T11:28:00.000-08:00

Don't be nice. Nice gets you nowhere. Nice will get you trampled on, taken advantage of, and drained of any energy you have. Don't be nice. Nice won't get you the promotion, the guy, the group of friends. You have to be aggressive, apathetic, unimpressed to obtain any of those. Respectively. Vampires grow bigger fangs as soon as they see that you're nice. And they can smell blood. You'll be exhausted and disappointed time and time again. You'll question this whole "kindness" thing altogether and get mad at your parents for telling you that's the way to go. You attract more bees with honey than vinegar? Let nice people go ahead and get stung then. Who wants bees around anyway?

Don't be nice. Nice isn't the first word you want to be described as. You'd rather be talented, clever, good-looking, sharp, tall…any of those will do over nice. Nice just conveys to people that you're a doormat. That they can take what they want and not give you anything. People will ask for favors. They'll borrow money. They'll hit on your boyfriend. They'll steal your friends. They'll insult you under their breath, time and time again. And you won't return the jabs. Why? Because you're nice.

You'll finish last. You'll cry. You'll feel beaten down and sucked dry. You'll wonder 'why isn't everyone nice in return?' You'll have high expectations that people simply cannot fulfill. You'll call your best friend or your mom and get nostalgic about Disney movies - wasn't that supposed to be the way of the world?

Don't be nice. Nice means naive. You don't know anything. After all, you're NICE. Nice people haven't been hardened by reality. Nice people aren't well-traveled, well-versed, well-trained to bring it to this ring. Nice people don't know that life will claw and scratch at you 'til you're thick-skinned enough that scars cover the once bloody scabs you got. Because you were nice, of course. Nice people don't know to protect themselves with indifferent glances and an icy demeanor. They don't have any armor. They're not prepared for this battle, or any for that matter. All they know how to do is be nice.

Don't be nice. Nice means you've never suffered. Nice means you don't have a personal tragedy. Because what kind of superhero are you, exactly, if you can muster the strength to let yourself be vulnerable after a massive blow like that? Not a nice one. No. Kindness means weakness. When you're not nice, people understand that you're seasoned. That you've been run over, dragged in the mud and buried before rising back up. Nice people haven't had that happen yet. Otherwise, they'd have much less enthusiasm.

Don't be nice in a relationship. You'll never have the upper hand. You'll never play the game right if you're nice. You'll have your nice little heart broken and you'll weep and wonder why you loved so hard if you didn't have a stamped love-back guarantee upon entering this agreement. You'll get left behind as the broken hearted rather than the heartbreaker. Terrible position to be in. Why did you expose that chest cavity to begin with?

Feel sorry for nice people. They'll wear their heart on their sleeve - they don't know how to play it cool and so, they'll never be cool. The opposite of that would be…warm? They'll laugh so hard that their drink comes out of their nose. They'll tell dorky jokes everyone has already heard. (They don't really care that everyone's already heard it.) Conversely, they'll give a courtesy laugh to someone whose joke wasn't at all funny. You see, they'd rather take on embarrassment than see someone else feel embarrassed. Their eyes will sparkle and they'll smile like an idiot from ear to ear when they walk into a fancy event: they've never seen anything like this before. They don't know that they're supposed to act like this is an everyday occurrence. They'll get starstruck and giddy if they have a run in with someone they admire. And the poor fool will probably tell them too. They'll waste a lot of valuable time at the grocery store, asking the clerk how their day is going and striking up conversation with the produce guy about what he's doing for the holidays. They'll go their whole lives feeling empathy toward people they don't even know. They'll be all their friends' personal therapist, shoulder to cry on and 4 AM call if they're in trouble. They'll pull over and help someone change their tire or lend them jumper cables and make everyone late to the party. They'll embarrass themselves with grand romantic gestures. They'll cry during JIF and Rice Krispies commercials because they can't wait to have kids of their own and teach them to be nice. Poor kids, right? They'll lose sleep thinking 'It's been a while since I've called my parents. I hope they know I still love them.' They'll worry about someone overseas who wasn't born on this side of the hemisphere. They'll love unconditionally, even if they don't get anything in return.

So if you want to live a life where you're prepared, guarded and taken seriously, don't be nice. If you want to be seen as cool, smooth, mysterious...like you've got something up your sleeve (even if you really don't), don't be nice. If you want people to know better than to mess with you, don't be nice. If you want to give off an air that you're better than everybody in the room, definitely don't be nice. But if all of these things don't matter that much to you and you're ok with feeling a little exposed, it's likely that pangs of loneliness will plague you much less frequently. It's likely that along with being described as "nice", you'll have qualities like "magnetic," "charming" and "generous" circling you too. It's likely that you're ego will shrink and your heart will grow. More than anything, it's likely that you and nice will have one magical life together.

julia restoin roitfeld x kiki de monparnasse

2011-12-08T08:33:00.000-08:00

The lovely kin to French Vogue's former editor, Carine Roitfeld, has covered many grounds: model, muse, perfumista, street style inspiration..general heartbreaker. So it should come as no surprise that her next territory is uncharted for the 31-year-old, however, fits organically in this realm of romantic occupations most modern ladies fantasize about.

Roitfeld had little experience in lingerie design but was certain she wanted each piece to fit a womanly body, while feeling alluring and timeless, a fitting demand of the luxurious, vintage-inspired Kiki de Montparnasse. Mission accomplished. Every item looks as though it could easily be worn by a classic pinup or 60s film icon. And the photographs are beyond sexy, regardless of era. I can hear my wallet weeping and the treadmill calling my name at the same time. I'm also interested in some fake eyelashes while we're there.

Elle got the first look.

photos: elle

friendsgiving

2011-12-01T09:03:00.000-08:00

I'm a little late on this but my first 'Friendsgiving' was everything I could've asked for and more. Six of us cooked a giant feast, complete with truffle brussel sprouts, sage roast potatoes, lemon butter chicken, bourbon yams, endive blue cheese salad, pumpkin ice cream, and all those other mouth-watering high-calorie delights. (My waistline was left weeping). It was a really lovely evening and most of all, one that reminded me to be grateful for all the good things. Actual giving of thanks should be every day though, don't you agree?

extraordinary machine

2011-11-30T13:00:00.000-08:00

One of my favorite female vocalists of all time is the magical Fiona Apple. I love when she comes on the radio, you know it's her singing. That voice is unparalleled. And the songs? Well I will go ahead and say that every person alive has to have at least one that they can 100% relate to, so much that they feel like it's a chapter out of their own book.

The details of her new album are hazy - seems like a lot of back and forth with the label - but I am waiting with baited breath for the next set of stirring musical stories. In the mean time, I'll be watching my favorites live over and over again. She's brilliant.

chelsea the factory girl

2011-11-29T08:22:00.001-08:00

One of my oldest and dearest friends Chelsea recently moved back to LA and recently had a big birthday: 25. She wanted nothing more than to celebrate the day both quietly and loudly: staying mostly inside the house with just a couple of close friends but at the same time, drinking champagne, dressing up, taking photos and eating cake. So we did just that.

The inspiration for these photos was Chelsea's style icon / person she is most fascinated by Edie Sedgewick, along with Brigitte Bardot and Holly Golightly sprinkled in here and there. The fantastic Gia Harris did the makeup. Chelsea is a beautiful writer, musician, and general creative mind. She also happens to be a stunning girl with a shining soul and contagious energy. Happiest of birthdays my Chelsea! I hope 25 is all the things.

roberta ridolfi

2011-11-27T15:01:00.001-08:00

more here.

jac

2011-11-26T11:14:00.000-08:00

Hi there. I'm perfect.

photos: vanessa jackman

thanksgiving

2011-11-24T12:50:00.001-08:00

Thank you for visiting this little bliggity blog of mine.

Gratitude is my favorite.

xx

beats & treats: cozy kitten

2011-11-22T15:38:00.001-08:00

Last Sunday, the typically 72 and sunny Los Angeles turned into a tropical jungle monsoon. Not that I objected in any way at all. Quite the contrary. I put on my coziest London girl attire (some of which literally hadn't seen light since I lived in London), flipped to Nina Simone on my iPod and spent the day playing chess by a fire, drinking wine and eating pumpkin flavored things. Why Angelenos have issues with a little drizzle is beyond me. I basically just described all of my favorite recreational activities, sans reading and making out.

One of my favorite parts of this day was getting dressed. Show me a girl that doesn't love to wear oversize knits and I will show you....probably a very skinny girl that eats whatever she wants and never gains weight. Including Thanksgiving. Ugh, bitch. But also, OMG I can't wait to begin drinking hot toddys at noon and eating yummy things and watching Home Alone! I'm so excited to bake! I want Ina Garten to hold me. What was I talking about?

Most ladies love to take a cue from the boys and in some cases, straight up take the boys' sweaters. My mom happens to be a ridiculously talented knitter so most of my winter gear was DIY by Mama. But the best thing is, you don't have to wait for a rainy day or even a lazy day to throw on a leisurely frock. As Liu Wen, Olivia Palermo and Anne-Catherine prove, you can spark up comfy clothes and still salvage your protruding waistline from demonstrating just how many bites of artichoke dip and white chocolate macadamia cookies went into your mouth. Given this piece of information, I spy oversize tops a plenty in my near future. And just like that, I'm even more excited for the holiday season!

beats // cozy kitten

"Roslyn" - Bon Iver and St. Vincent

"Nude" - Radiohead

"In The Fire" - Ry Cuming

"Glosoli" - Sigur Ros

"Your Protector" - Fleet Foxes

photos: elle, in style, all the pretty birds

alison scarpulla

2011-11-22T07:46:00.000-08:00

"The universe is full of magical things, patiently waiting for our wits to grow sharper." - Eden Phillpotts

One of my absolute favorites. Mystical, dark, slightly occult. So so pretty. More here.

photos: alison scarpulla

date a girl who reads

2011-11-21T08:42:00.000-08:00

[by Rosemarie Urquico]

Date a girl who reads. Date a girl who spends her money on books instead of clothes. She has problems with closet space because she has too many books. Date a girl who has a list of books she wants to read, who has had a library card since she was twelve.

Find a girl who reads. You’ll know that she does because she will always have an unread book in her bag.She’s the one lovingly looking over the shelves in the bookstore, the one who quietly cries out when she finds the book she wants. You see the weird chick sniffing the pages of an old book in a second hand book shop? That’s the reader. They can never resist smelling the pages, especially when they are yellow.

She’s the girl reading while waiting in that coffee shop down the street. If you take a peek at her mug, the non-dairy creamer is floating on top because she’s kind of engrossed already. Lost in a world of the author’s making. Sit down. She might give you a glare, as most girls who read do not like to be interrupted. Ask her if she likes the book.

Buy her another cup of coffee.

Let her know what you really think of Murakami. See if she got through the first chapter of Fellowship. Understand that if she says she understood James Joyce’s Ulysses she’s just saying that to sound intelligent. Ask her if she loves Alice or she would like to be Alice.

It’s easy to date a girl who reads. Give her books for her birthday, for Christmas and for anniversaries. Give her the gift of words, in poetry, in song. Give her Neruda, Pound, Sexton, Cummings. Let her know that you understand that words are love. Understand that she knows the difference between books and reality but by god, she’s going to try to make her life a little like her favorite book. It will never be your fault if she does.

She has to give it a shot somehow.

Lie to her. If she understands syntax, she will understand your need to lie. Behind words are other things: motivation, value, nuance, dialogue. It will not be the end of the world.

Fail her. Because a girl who reads knows that failure always leads up to the climax. Because girls who understand that all things will come to end. That you can always write a sequel. That you can begin again and again and still be the hero. That life is meant to have a villain or two.

Why be frightened of everything that you are not? Girls who read understand that people, like characters, develop. Except in the Twilightseries.

If you find a girl who reads, keep her close. When you find her up at 2 AM clutching a book to her chest and weeping, make her a cup of tea and hold her. You may lose her for a couple of hours but she will always come back to you. She’ll talk as if the characters in the book are real, because for a while, they always are.

You will propose on a hot air balloon. Or during a rock concert. Or very casually next time she’s sick. Over Skype.

You will smile so hard you will wonder why your heart hasn’t burst and bled out all over your chest yet. You will write the story of your lives, have kids with strange names and even stranger tastes. She will introduce your children to the Cat in the Hat and Aslan, maybe in the same day. You will walk the winters of your old age together and she will recite Keats under her breath while you shake the snow off your boots.

Date a girl who reads because you deserve it. You deserve a girl who can give you the most colorful life imaginable. If you can only give her monotony, and stale hours and half-baked proposals, then you’re better off alone. If you want the world and the worlds beyond it, date a girl who reads.

Or better yet, date a girl who writes.

photos: the sartorialist, we heart it

simple

2011-11-17T19:19:00.001-08:00

photo: hanneli

the witch is back

2011-11-17T08:15:00.000-08:00

Not that she ever left but I squealed with delight to see my favorite Scandinavian songstress as one of H&M's holiday spokesmodels, alongside other lovelies like Abbey Lee Kershaw and Georgia May Jagger.

Her trademark put-a-spell-on-you Stevie Nicksiness (pictured with her sister, Zara) is alive and well. As is the #allblackeverything. As is all the magic.

photo: fashion gone rogue

drunk on love

2011-11-16T09:49:00.000-08:00

"I'm a hopeless romantic. I can't help falling in love," sings Rihanna in the first few lines of "Drunk On Love," another inventive, punchy track off her new album Talk That Talk. The first single "We Found Love" featuring Scottish DJ Calvin Harris and accompanied with a Requiem For A Dream-esque grimy mish mash of a music video, started her 6th album off strong, showing that pop's bad girl isn't afraid to take creative chances and venture into other musical genres, namely dance and electro.

"Drunk On Love" is no exception. Produced by Jamie XX, Rihanna's signature power pipes stay true to the style that put her at the top of the pop game and mesh beautifully with The XX's sampled "Intro."

Something tells me Talk That Talk will be Rihanna's biggest triumph yet. Album drops next week.

alexa in red

2011-11-15T20:00:00.000-08:00

Pink sunnies + little red Kelly Kapowski dress + studded oversized clutch = so much YES.

The neon lime polish doesn't hurt anyone either. Nope. No one at all.

photo: easy fashion

beats & treats: tough cookie

2011-11-15T08:43:00.001-08:00

I've been a sucker for tough-girl attire since the first time I actually started having fun dressing myself (I think that's also known as the beginning of the fashion love affair). The leather jackets reminiscent of 1970s grimy punk bars in the Lower East Side. The 80s Pat Benetar videos, with swipes of bright blush, heavy liner and suffocating skinny jeans. Balmain's safety pin heavy, angular-shouldered blazers paired with torn denim and London print T-shirts. Sigh. I live in these rough-around-the-edges uniforms.

It's a bit like dressing like a grown-up tomboy. The one that will skip class to smoke cigarettes, write her name all over the bathroom walls in red lipstick and then beat you up on the playground if you tell the teacher of her naughty escapades. And who better to take a few fashion cues from than off-duty UK stunner Cara Delevingne, the ultimate modern-day bad girl Erin Wasson, and French Vogue editor Emmanuelle Alt? All eye-catching. All effortless. All tough as can be.

beats // tough cookie
"Should I Stay or Should I Go" - The Clash
"Remember When (Side B)" - The Black Keys
"Woman" - Wolfmother
"There's No Home For You Here" - The White Stripes
"Fever" - The Cramps

carolyn griffin

2011-11-13T21:51:00.001-08:00

Brooklyn photographer Carolyn Griffin has a remarkable eye for raw beauty, straightforward angles and an inimitable vintage-style grade. These images are positively stunning - they don't feel posed or done up in any way. There's a sense of innocent exposure, especially with the portraits. Like she caught the subject in a moment of utter vulnerability and introspection but it's not intrusive. The travel shots are equally striking - they capture all five senses with the practice of one. Really beautiful.

i follow lykke

2011-11-11T14:58:00.001-08:00

A cure for the musical blues. No matter who you are. (PS All black everything. Homegirl's wardrobe looks identical to mine.)

heavy metal luver

2011-11-03T08:09:00.000-07:00

My friend, the super talented megababe Amanda Thomas, is the creator and brilliant designer of Luv AJ, a jewelry line 'not for the faint of heart' that includes a bevy of spikes, chains, ombre metals, MAJOR details...all the good stuff badass girls want ornamenting their bodies.

Luv AJ just released the Heavy Metal Lookbook (created by Amanda's equally talented sister Claire of Kitchy Kitchen) - a glorious heavy-beat hodge bodge of slow-mo punches/hair flips, an Alice Delal-esque muse, and a witch house-style Rick Ross soundtrack.

You might die just a little. And then watch it again.

...somewhere out there, Erin Wasson just squealed and she's not sure why.

music to my eyes

2011-11-02T12:27:00.000-07:00

I've been a devout lover of music videos, I will say, since my brain had the neural capacity to put imagery with sound. I am not suggesting I was a child prodigy Dave LaChapelle by any means (sigh...a girl can certainly pretend) but I've had the habit of dreaming up story based on whatever emotion a song evokes since as long as I could remember. Hence my adult-life music reviews being so subjective and sentimental. It's all about what you'd be doing and who with and why, rather than "this chord combined with that one quite nicely...so different from their last piece of work..."

So when I see a great music video, one that's complex, beautiful and sticks with you the way a moving or even disturbing film might, I can't help but become obsessed and watch it about 20 times in a row. No less. Lucky for me (unlucky for my level of productivity), there are two newly released gems that make my heart beat a little quicker: cue Rihanna's English-film, drug-spun"We Found Love" and The Kills' smoky NYC drag bar "Baby Says."

Watch both at your own risk. Plan ahead and allot yourself a good hour - you'll need it for the uncontrollable pressing of the repeat button.

RIHANNA ft. CALVIN HARRIS 'WE FOUND LOVE'

THE KILLS 'BABY SAYS'

denim shorts done right

2011-11-01T15:58:00.000-07:00

photos: elle, tumblr

the other olsen girl

2011-10-31T11:35:00.000-07:00

Major girl crush happening over here.

like the boys

2011-10-21T08:48:00.001-07:00

Like like like.

photo: GQ

read me

2011-10-20T08:07:00.000-07:00

i just can't get enough

2011-10-19T08:00:00.000-07:00

need supply look book

2011-10-18T08:35:00.000-07:00

(Slow clap).

More here. Click Click.

chloe

2011-10-10T11:01:00.000-07:00

why are you just so good?

feeling like, 2 am summer nights

2011-10-07T15:29:00.000-07:00

This summer was unlike any other. Though it felt as if most of my LA family didn't congregate for our usual indulgent dinners, drinks, slumber parties, general tomfoolery, etc. there were some really memorable moments.

(Not to mention, most were traveling and doing amazing, creative things that beat out drinking 1million cocktails on restaurant patios. For the most part.)

A few of my favorite moments from this sweltering season:

-inventing summer tequila cocktails (the one pictured above is muddled mint/lemon/raspberries, silver tequila, agave and soda water)

-looking at the stars from my roof in Silverlake with Laura

-grilling everything, especially Farmers' Market buys

-the enormously fun potluck / BBQ / pool party with all my favorite people in Beachwood for the 4th

-beach days in Venice with Michell

-drinking too many glasses of San Bres on the patio at La Poubelle

-weekend jaunt to Kayvon's Santa Barbara dream house

-dancing to "Vamos A La Playa" at El Cid

-"This Is Spinal Tap" at Hollywood Forever Cemetery

-Warpaint/Panda Bear/Smith Westerns/Arctic Monkeys/TV on the Radio at the Hollywood Bowl

-moving to my new Franklin Village apt :)

Goodbye summer. It's been great. Now onto my favorite season in LA...I'll be cooking everything pumpkin if you need me.

"Pursuit of Happiness" - Kid Cudi

tumble tumble

2011-10-06T15:16:00.000-07:00

I started a photo diary via tumblr: http://elizavetakholostenko.tumblr.com/. Take a peek :)

xx

big sur

2011-10-05T11:25:00.000-07:00

I just took a camping trip to one of my favorite places in the world, Big Sur, with five of my close friends. It was so breathtaking and inspiring! If I could go every weekend, I would.

"One Day Like This" - Elbow

gimme shelter

2011-10-04T10:48:00.000-07:00

I've done it!

I have left Silverlake.

Can you believe it?

I never thought this day would come, given I am so in love with the East Side and all of it's glorious nooks, crannies, hills, shops, restaurants, coffee stops and boys. I love those boys!

But alas, I've relocated to live beneath the beautiful and majestic (drumroll)...Hollywood sign. Yes friends, I am now in Franklin Village (ugh, you stalkers) and to the point of my dear friend Ben, I no longer have to commute to La Poubelle! Hurray!

With my new 'hood and abode comes a new project that I always look forward to: setting up the place and decorating. I've been scouring flea markets, Good Wills, fancy vintage / antique stores, yard sales and of course, Ikea, for pieces, delights and inspiration. I have a few styles and themes in mind. Can't wait to get my hands dirty! And then clean. Like, REALLY clean a lot. I can't stand a dirty apartment.

Here's what I'm thinking:

photos: the selby, design sponge, cupcakes & cashmere, the coveteur

erin, darling

2011-10-02T09:24:00.000-07:00

Just in from Babetown, USA.

nikki lane

2011-09-23T09:50:00.000-07:00

Do you ever have those songs where a small part is so infectious that just that part keeps playing over and over in your head? You'll be casually brushing your teeth or parking your car and all of the sudden it's all "OHHHH HEYYYY Kid Cudi slurring 'Ratatat' to synth-guitar backdrop" or "WHAT'S UP Arcade Fire 'Oooooooo we used to wait', complete with determined, furious drum kicks."

This little phenomenon I'm suggesting doesn't negate song catchiness so much as stickiness. Catchy I associate with a legion of freakish song-writer/marketer hybrids, AKA DREAM JOB (AKA I've somehow lost all of my artistic integrity with just one sentence) (AKA morals, have you taken your vacation early this year? It's not New Year's Eve yet), and stickiness I associate with a well-written song beautifully married to a captivating voice.

Enter Nikki Lane, my latest sneak-attack soundtrack and quite possibly, favorite new female vocalist. It's convenient that Lane's voice fits neatly with my "sticky song" theory - the best way to describe it is "like honey." There's just enough twang, addicting warm tone and sincerity in that first cluster of lyrics to "Gone Gone Gone," "all my life I've been here waitin'" to make for the perfect music contagion.

With vampy vocals reminiscent of Jenny Lewis, Dusty Springfield and a raspier, less apathetic Cat Power and a style echoing Ryan Adams (specifically Cold Roses) and Emmylou Harris, Lane's country sensibilities come naturally from a Southern upbringing and a life of vagabonding. Lane left Greenville, South Carolina at 19 for Los Angeles (and eventually New York City) to pursue a life beyond her formulaic hometown timeline: college, marriage, settling down Southern style. Taking odd jobs and working in fashion, collecting vintage pieces from her adventures, was a satisfying form of sustenance for a period of time. But it was heartbreak that ultimately led Lane to write music. Country music, specifically.

First single "Gone Gone Gone" speaks directly to the experience of this journey- "I don't wanna be found" - while "Lies"and "Hard Livin'" are a clear middle finger to the perpetrator of the aforementioned heartbreak. "Walk of Shame" and "Coming Home To You" are good, girlish country fun - if there were any traditional side stepping going on to this album, the title track would be it. "Sleep For You" and "Blue Star in the Sky," which happen to be my favorite tracks, are dreamy, romantic and make me think of a honky-tonk porch, with couples adorned in dusty hats, blue jeans and cowboy boots slow-dancing under the stars, buzzing off bourbon and life.

Lane's intoxicating voice is the perfect anchor to the guitar slides and sure-as-the-day-is-long nod to classic country lyrics. If you've been waiting around for a modern Loretta Lynn or simply an authentic alt country artist uninfluenced by recent Americana trends, then my friends, you've hit the jackpot with Nikki Lane.

You can stream her entire album, Walk of Shame, here.

You can pre-order it here.

10 things we did as tweens

2011-09-13T12:23:00.000-07:00

Since moving to LA three years ago, I am proud to say I have managed to make some remarkable girlfriends from all over this great nation and in some cases, this great world. Apart from obvious common interests that bonded us, I'd say we come from a pretty eclectic backgrounds. Yet across the board, we all had identical "interests" between the ages of 11 and 15. And then it's like DUH! We all did. Basically if you are a young lady currently dipping a toe or drowning in your quarter life crisis, somewhere out there in the world, tween you did the same thing tween me did. Want proof? Read my list of the top 10 ties that bind us together as women, in no particular order.

1) Seeing Titanic more than once

Unlike most buzz films today, it wasn't enough to just say you saw Titanic. There was an unspoken competition going on for who saw it the most, demonstrating your devotion to Kate, Leo and a flute-heavy Celtic score. The answer to "Have you seen Titanic?" was never a simple yes or no. It was a number. That number was essentially the tween version of your "number" and unlike today, the higher that number was, the better.

2) Picking 'N Sync or Backstreet

Think you can like both? No. You cannot. I'm sorry. Pick one because you can't have a delicious white chocolate platter of Nick Carter and Justin Timberlake and eat it too. You can't enjoy AJ McClean's bare chest 'neath silky blouse and marvel at Chris Kirkpatrick's beaded dreadlock situation and consider yourself a reasonable person. I just won't stand for it. Your 13-year-old friends likely didn't either and the only thing worse than rooting for the opposition was saying you liked both. Because that's just playing heart games, which as we know, you need to quit.

3) Having a ridiculous AIM name

What's up cUtIeGiRl86? What are you up to after school, FreddiePrinzzzFan_Y2K? A/S/L, pinkwarriorprincess69? The best part of this whole thing is that most of us still use these AIM names. No one went out of their way to change it to something more adult-like and professional after AOL wasn't the talk of the town anymore. I mean, why would you with a gem like missthang2000 anyway?

4) Spending too much money on a pair of platform Candies or Sketchers

The invasion of The Spice Girls touched on many aspects of a tween girl's life: spending hours learning their video choreography, rocking the half-up/half-down pigtail look, picking which of these strong women you'd model the rest of your life after (I chose Posh), etc etc. But more than anything, PLATFORMS. Boy did those Brit babes do the shoe industry a solid. If you were in Jr. High and weren't towering over your science teacher with marshmallow feet, your middle school street cred was hovering between low and non-existent. A clear call to action: for the LOVE, missthang2000, spice up your life!

5) Getting, like, really really into witchcraft

Slow down. I'm not talking legitimately reading up on Pagan practices in my DiCaprio poster covered room (I know what this did for Christine O'Donnell's career and I'm not taking any chances). I'm talking watching The Craft like it was your job, getting 3 of your BFFs and choosing your "element", lighting some scented Passionfruit candles from the 99 cent store and playing light as a feather stiff as a board with no lights on. And don't get me started on contacting your grandparents with a Ouija board.

6) Slow mo-ing your VCR to see Devon Sawa's manhood in Now & Then

It's truly fascinating what little perverts we all were. Underneath the virginal baby tees and denim form of birth control known as JNCOs, we desperately wanted to sneak a peek at Devon Sawa's downstairs mixup. So desperate that we'd sit 5 centimeters from the screen clicking the FF button, frame by frame, just to get the money shot. It was like the girl version of catching the bad reception porn channel when your parents weren't home. The best part is we all still giggle about it like we're Anderson Cooper trying to tell a pee joke.

7) Purchasing unnecessary novelty items from Hot Topic

This one doesn't need much explaining. The Limp Bizkit t-shirt, Emily the Strange notebook and rhinestone bindi speak for themselves.

8) Butterfly clips in the hair

The biggest WTF in hair for us was a look coined by Jennifer Love Hewitt, bless her heart, during her Carson Daly era where you twisted your entire crown with little clips into a festive bun at the top of your head. If you were really daring, you'd even get the ones with coil attached butterflies (from Claire's of course). You know, so that your curls looked like a magical hair garden with butterflies fluttering about.

9) Speaking of Claire's…why did we all shoplift from there?

You could buy yourself a really decent set of frog earrings or sparkly navy nailpolish for under $5. In fact, I don't think anything at Claire's exceeded $15. But for some reason, all of us, at one period or another, stole a random key chain or something out of the 99 cent clearance bin just for giggles. Why? I guess at that age, it's one of the few thrills you get. Other than watching a racy scene from Now & Then.

10) Owning the Holy Trinity of C's on VHS

Clueless. Can't Hardly Wait. Cruel Intentions. BOOM! Those were the only three films you really needed to watch in your girlhood to understand what you should expect in high school. That is, if high school was comprised of comically large top hats, an ensemble cast of YM cover stars, and sexy time with your step sibling (hey, it's cool if it's not blood related, ok?).

three's a crowd

2011-09-12T17:56:00.000-07:00

Thumbs up if you had a great weekend!

there's beauty everywhere

2011-09-08T13:12:00.000-07:00

Welcome back, inspiration.

photos: etc., we heart it, the selby

dream girl

2011-09-07T08:03:00.000-07:00

Le swoon for Marion Cotillard, oui?

colorado

2011-09-05T10:18:00.000-07:00

I took a recent weekend trip home to Colorado. My hometown has this quirky way of shifting weather quickly - one moment it's sunny and you're enjoying sangria by the pool, the next there are Armageddon-style grey clouds and lightning and you're scrambling to get inside and drink tea. This time was no exception. Summer storms are something I miss about home so while everyone grumbled gathering their towels and sunglasses, I rejoiced on the inside and ran for my camera rather than running for cover.

I took most of these near an old railroad in the Highlands (a historical Denver neighborhood where my best friend currently lives), the patriotic display was in Larimer Square, Downtown Denver and a few of these are in my beloved Boulder, where I spent the last five years before moving to LA. I definitely refer to Los Angeles (specifically the East Side) as my home now but Denver will always hold a special, nostalgia soaked place in my heart.

"Hometown Glory" - Adele

come on, get happy

2011-09-01T10:43:00.000-07:00

When feeling drained (symptoms include eye rolls, exhaustion, irritation...perhaps a few passive aggressive Tweets...EEEK!) do the following:

1) Get in your automobile (other options include your bicycle or on your feet)
2) Windows down
3) Select destination of happiness (gelato, florist, body of water, BFF's house, highest point in your city overlooking all the pretty lights)
4) Turn on "Midnight City" by M83, with volume at a reasonable HIGH
5) Repeat steps 1-4 until symptoms have subsided

"Midnight City" - M83

OH and one more thing: don't let silly people ruin your day.

photos: Amelie, various tumblrs, Jessica Hart

tomboy

2011-08-31T08:00:00.000-07:00

Hi my name is Elizaveta and I dress like a boy.

Hi Elizaveta.

photos: elin klin, tomboy style, garance dore, sartorialist

scandinavian places

2011-08-29T09:27:00.000-07:00

(Norway, Norway, Sweden, Sweden)

Waiting for the cool down...tick tock.

photos: National Geographic

binki's gibson

2011-08-26T08:00:00.000-07:00

The cutest musical miss Binki Shapiro of Little Joy serenades us for a new Madewell feature, "My Madewell." She's so charming and well spoken, I basically squealed with delight through this entire video. That and the fact that her + Madewell is a match made in sartorial heaven. Sighhh. Oh and have I mentioned I heart Little Joy to pieces? (read: when is the next album coming out? I'm getting impatient, guys!)

(via Refinery 29)

the birthday of mr. black

2011-08-25T08:00:00.000-07:00

Jonny Black. Dear friend. Musician extraordinare. Mark Ruffalo doppleganger. Grammar and fact corrector. Now mid-twenties year old. This was quite the celebration. Here's to you, Mr. Black!

jacqueline di milia

2011-08-24T08:00:00.000-07:00

more here.

hot hot heat

2011-08-23T08:00:00.000-07:00

If you are a weatherman, summer has officially come to a close. If you live in Los Angeles, it never really does. And if you're me, you're letting out a bittersweet sigh of relief and counting down the days to September. Though I love the spirit of summer - how carefree, light and breezy it feels, like school getting out for pool days and popsicles - I do not love the heat.

I love cold weather. Cold, depressing weather. Rain please! It might be the Eastern European blood. It might be the fact that I love sleeping/cuddling/bundling more than I love baking near a pool. Or it might be that outerwear is the most prized section of my closet. No matter the reason, I would like to officially pay this summer a well deserved tribute, as it did me well, and bid it adieu.

Summer, thanks for: movies at the cemetery, drinks on the patio at La Poubelle, laying out on rooftops, nightswimming, fireworks, BBQs, Napa, strong whiskey/ginger beer cocktails, more nightswimming...

Autumn, I'm all ready for you. Bring it.

end of summer playlist
"Summer in the City" - Regina Spektor
"Girl" - Beck
"Sinister Kid" - The Black Keys
"I Was A Lover" - TV on the Radio
"Every Time You Go" - Ellie Goulding
"Vibrationz" - Javelin
"Blow It Up" - The Vaccines
"Like A Rolling Stone" - Bob Dylan
"Fire" - Kasabian
"L'Anamour" - Francoise Hardy

stevie lately

2011-08-22T15:08:00.000-07:00

Catching a kneel and a chuckle in NYC. No biggg.

photo: Jak & Jil

eight of kate

2011-08-22T10:44:00.000-07:00

michelle as marilyn

2011-08-18T10:42:00.000-07:00

The talented Michelle Williams as Marilyn Monroe in the upcoming film My Week With Marilyn. Perfect.

(via Elle)

another earth

2011-08-17T08:00:00.000-07:00

Oh my! Allow me to catch my breath...

It's as if someone read my mind, took all my favorite film components and through them into one. Just kidding. We all know this has nothing to do with me other than I really really want to see it. The trailer alone made my heart pitter pat a little quicker than usual. If I'm being totally honest, I sort of welled up too (I'm a cryer when I see something extremely cool and inspiring). This looks positively stunning/complex/thought-provoking. What an amazing concept!

And Brit Marling is probably making her way into the Carey Mulligan/Zoe Saldana/Emma Stone category of young ingenues with this one. Oh and have I mentioned she's also a writer, producer and director? At 28? Godspeed, young lady.

alexa lately

2011-08-16T08:00:00.000-07:00

i get around

2011-08-15T08:00:00.000-07:00

Obviously in LA, we depend pretty heavily on cars. I used to envy New York City dwellers so much because of their variety of transportation options and to be honest, I'm more of a walker than anything else. Not really conducive to this sprawling city of ours. But despite this as well as my seemingly nonstop series of unfortunate automobile related events, I really do like to drive (even though it's been reported to me on several occasions that I'm not good at it).

Actually, I love going on drives. Not trafficky, horrible 9 AM Monday morning drives through Koreatown sans espresso but a lovely solo nighttime adventure up Beachwood or Mulholland Drive, can be quite therapeutic and as silly as it may sound, like taking a vacation from routine. Ideal time to clear the noggin, throw a hand out the window...you know, breath a little. There's something refreshing about driving without purpose. Or in a greater sense, doing something for the sake of doing it, with no particular goal in mind.

So the moral of this story is if you ever see me cruising up Franklin, belting "Gyspy" and staring longingly into an abyss, do not interrupt to say hello. I'm actually on holiday.

sigur ros mysteries

2011-08-12T10:35:00.000-07:00

Yesterday, the dreamy Icelandic quartet Sigur Ros posted a mysterious teaser on their site, Inni, with no indication of whether it would be a new album, music video or film. The teaser has an avant-garde Meshes of the Afternoon vibe, with sound being a bit broken and eerie until the end where we hear the ambient, dreaminess we're used to hearing from them. And then we want to take a nap in a field of daisies all over again.

Today, Venice Days (part of the Venice Film Festival) reports it will be a "surprise film event" (via Pitchfork).

I saw Sigur Ros play about six years ago at the Filmore in Colorado and it seriously felt like it was the end of the world. Like you were watching rapture. I'm not exaggerating - to this day, it's the best live performance I have ever seen and still completely haunts me. I cannot wait for Inni.

color

2011-08-11T08:00:00.000-07:00

Spanish artist Yago Hortal loves using hard colors to represent thought and movement, creating pieces that are bright, provocative and surreal. Living and studying art in Barcelona is a direct influence on what he calls his "decision-making," noting that art is all about making a choice to do one thing and not another and that not everything always "fits." Great metaphor for life, if you ask me.

Hortal currently lives and works in Berlin. Watch him describe his work in full below.

starry eyed

2011-08-10T09:28:00.000-07:00

ELLIE GOULDING "STARRY EYED" (US VERSION) from Dugan O'Neal on Vimeo.

Illusory, romantic, and oh so beautifully shot, Dugan O'Neal's latest music vid is a dream you don't want to wake up from. Perfect for Ellie's fairy-like presence and otherworldly voice. The whole thing gives me goosebumps.

Director: Dugan O'Neal
Executive Producer: Danielle Hinde
DP: David Myrick

all of the brights

2011-08-09T08:00:00.000-07:00

Myrthe by Marco Trunz for Velvet Magazine

(via Fashion Gone Rogue...for more click click)

monday monday

2011-08-08T08:00:00.000-07:00

BEATS: Are we back again? Yes indeedy.

I don't know about you but my weekend went quickly. However, in my case, the quicker the better. I'm going home to Colorado soon, which makes me smile ear to ear, and the more rapidly we can get to that point, the better. I miss home! I can't wait to watch sunsets, go on a massive hike at Chataqua, take a nap near the Boulder Creek, curl up with my best friend and watch movies, snap photos of my mama....listen to Widespread Panic, wear Crocs. Just kidding. I almost lost you there didn't I? Stop rolling your eyes at my Colorado stuff and perk up your ears instead. (I'm sorry if I just made you barf with that Crocs bomb. You're thinking, it's too early for this. And I completely agree. I hope we can still be friends).

Here are a few choice musical gems to get your through a "case of the Mondays." Get a cup of coffee! Turn these up! Hold my hand! We're getting through this together!

"Eyes Be Closed" - Washed Out
"Up Up Up" - GIVERS
"Blackout" - The Knocks
"Last Night (The Strokes Cover)" - The Morning Benders
"The Shores (Remix)" - Sea of Cortez

gimme three steps

2011-08-05T08:00:00.000-07:00

"Gimme Three Steps" - Lynyrd Skynyrd
"Won't Back Down" - Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers

"Lost Highway" - Hank Williams

"Jolene" - Dolly Parton

"So Long Marianne" - Leonard Cohen

"Out of the Blue" - Julian Casablancas
"The Chain" - Fleetwood Mac
"Wayfaring Stranger" - Emmylou Harris
"Dollar Bill Blues" - Townes Van Zandt
"In The Street" - Big Star
"Cocaine Blues (Live in 1972)" - Johnny Cash

For the entire playlist...clickity click click here.

what do you think you're doin?

2011-08-03T08:01:00.000-07:00

...neglecting you're blog or somethin'?

So sorry I've been MIA. Really good stuff coming soon: inspiration, music, beautiful photos...all of it. Stand by. xx

listen up

2011-07-26T08:00:00.000-07:00

BEATS: A quick and dirty summary of what I've been listening to. Yeahyeahyeah!

albums

The Antlers, Burst Apart - Brooklyn's trio spews tracks that are dreamy, sprinkled with synth and garner a powerful feeling of nostalgia. Something about each song on their debut follow-up, Burst Apart, tugs at the heart strings in a manner you wouldn't expect from a Washed Out-esque electronic format. If listening to "I Don't Want Love" doesn't make you agree at least a little with the melancholy lyrics, you may have to revisit your capacity for musical connection. Fans of Grizzly Bear and Hot Chip, take note.

Bon Iver, Bon Iver - The new album is aces! It's a woodsy, atmospheric version of Peter Gabriel - so much more Radiohead-ish and colossal than For Emma, Forever Ago. Ambitious yet successful in adding all these new bells and whistles - taking on a grandiose chamber pop sound and pulling it off without a hint of self indulgence is an accomplishment. Not much more to say here. Oh except I heart "Calgary."

Raphael Saadiq, Stone Rollin' - To be honest, I've been revisiting the classics much more than dabbling in new music lately. Aretha and Billie have been circulating my iPod more than Austra and Battles....or something like that. In that same bundle of retro, soulful and warm is former Tony! Toni! Tone! frontman Raphael Saadiq. One of my highlights from this year's Coachella, Saadiq's vocals are smooth as butter, his lyrics thought-provoking and earnest and the overall delivery, brilliant! I've been belting to "Go To Hell" like it's gospel. Bonus round: my good friend, the talented Mr. Dugan O'Neal plays an adulterating cop in Saadiq's "Good Man" video. Naughty.

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tracks
"Fly" Nicki Minaj ft. Rihanna - Running to this makes me feel like I'm the next karate kid. Or in the words of Mindy Khaling, like I'm going to rob a bank. In other words, it's motivational.

"Moves Like Jagger" Maroon 5 ft. Christina Aguilera - The ultimate guilty pleasure: those funky white boys plus that powerhouse whose over the top runs command chills every time she opens her mouth, singing about a bendy rock legend. Genius.

"Baby Says" The Kills - In my next life, I'd like to come back as Alison Mosshart. Universe, are you paying attention? This is important.

"Suburbs" Mr. Little Jeans - Brilliant cover of Arcade Fire's ode to the mundane outskirts of a city. Haunting and positively addicting, the female vocals and witch-house tendencies of this reworking make it a far enough departure from the original to be just as memorable in and of itself.

"Motivation" Kelly Rowland ft. Lil' Wayne - I effing love Kelly (/anything ever involved with Destiny's Child). Plus, there's Weezy. So this track is basically the best possible.

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full playlist
"I Don't Want Love" - The Antlers
"Holocene" - Bon Iver
"Calgary" - Bon Iver
"Go To Hell" - Raphael Saadiq
"Stone Rollin'" - Raphael Saadiq
"Fly" - Nicki Minaj ft. Rihanna
"Moves Like Jagger" - Maroon 5 ft. Christina Aguilera
"Baby Says" - The Kills
"Suburbs" - Mr. Little Jeans
"Motivation" Kelly Rowland ft. Lil' Wayne

wildfox swim

2011-07-22T09:47:00.000-07:00

TREATS: "The story of a girl who loved roadtrips, roping cattle, and wearin' bikinis."

More where that came from....click click.

Styled and Picture Edited by Kimberley Gordon

Photos by The Cobrasnake

Concept and Design by Emily Faulstich and Kimberley Gordon

My girls have really outdone themselves...yeeeeehawww! I'm pining after camel one piece with ruffles and white high waisted bikini with floral print. Which do you love?

kate getting married

2011-07-20T12:44:00.000-07:00

TREATS: The other royal wedding.

photos: knight cat

when we was young, oh man did we have fun

2011-07-19T07:44:00.000-07:00

photos: my own, oracle fox, fuckyeahbeatgeneration, we heart it

high-brow

2011-07-14T09:14:00.000-07:00

TREATS: The last time I had to get my makeup professionally done (essentially to be somewhat of an extra on a show I worked on), the makeup artists would give me daily grief about my brows - I liked to fill them in black even though my hair has this brown to honey ombre thing going on.

Well ladies, with all do respect...I love this look and apparently Oscar de la Renta does too.

photos: From Me To You (via Cup of Jo)

taken for a fool

2011-07-13T23:44:00.000-07:00

I'm speechless for the reasons outlined in the below post. Thank you Strokes for never failing to make my heart sing...sing with a raspy, apathetic voice that's seen one Camel Lights too many.

hurts so good

2011-07-12T09:09:00.000-07:00

My dear friend Kimberley, who is undoubtedly one of the most talented people I know, recently posted on her Tumblr:

My passion for women and fashion is so intense, when I read my photo book “A second decade of Guess?” I tear up and I can barely breathe.

When I read this, I suddenly felt a sense of overwhelming appreciation and understanding come over me. I smiled like an idiot, as wide as I could and felt nostalgic and sympathetic and happy. Then I nodded my head like an idiot. Alone. In my apartment. I'm actually shocked I didn't slow clap. Alone. In my apartment.

I know that feeling. I know it so well.

When you are so impassioned by something, that it literally hurts to think about it. And don't even get me started on experiencing it first hand...

I don't know for sure that Kimberley necessarily felt a "hurt" as much as a sense of affection and emotion but I certainly know the sensation when something takes your breath away all too well. Like you are tightening this little gasp of oxygen between your lungs and involuntarily clenching as hard as possible and you don't want to let go - you never want to release that euphoria. And not romantic affection. No. The kind of exhilarated, drunk feeling that lives inside of you for something you know you were put on this earth to do or simply, to love.

Kimberley was put on this earth for fashion and drawing and storytelling through her clothing line. She is meant to let her imagination run wild and design garments that make women feel beautiful and like they're living in a fairytale and having the time of their life. And that, life is magic. She is a bit of a dreamweaver in that sense.

My "hurt"? My hurt comes when I hear a band I adore or a piece of music I can't live without. I grew up listening to nothing but my dad's enviable vinyl collection and fighting tooth and nail against piano and voice lessons until I was addicted to them and getting the surliest stare-downs imaginable from none other than my father if I didn't know my Beatles trivia like I knew my multiplication tables.

I spent high school subscribing to every music publication and spending my weekends hanging out in silly record stores and rundown concert venues, like I was the simpler, less romantic John Cusack of the 2000s. I still think I'm going to write for Rolling Stone one day or manage a breakout band on their first US tour. I still think I'm going to be Jay-Z's personal assistant at some juncture of my career. I still think I'm going to learn to play guitar and pen a few songs that might interest a local singer and inevitably, shoot them into the limelight.

I posted something after seeing The Strokes play Coachella this past year. A quote from Almost Famous by one of the band-aids, Sapphire (played by the enchanting Faruiza Balk):

They don't even know what it is to be a fan. Y'know? To truly love some silly little piece of music, or some band, so much that it hurts.

Seeing my favorite boys play, after a decade of devotion? That was it for me. That hurt.

When I hear the opening notes to "New York City Cops," think of Jules apathetically lighting another cigarette on stage and I reminisce about Ludlow Street: it hurts.

When I play back "Like A Rolling Stone" and scream "how does it feeeeeeeeeeel" with Bob: it hurts. When I imagine Mick's sultry dance routine and mic fondling for "Gimme Shelter": it hurts.

When Lou desperately quivers "I'm waiting for my man" and I can picture him and his last crumpled $26: it hurts.

When Janis belts "Oh COME ON!" and begs for him to take another piece of her heart: it hurts.

It hurts because I love it so much that it's unbearable. My pupils dilate like I've ingested days upon days of opiates. My heart palpitates like I'm 15 and my crush just made eye contact in homeroom. My palms sweat like I'm on a first date with my soul mate. I get goosebumps all over. And that little breath makes a comfortable home in between my pipes and won't budge for at least 30 seconds until I resuscitate myself enough to at least make the next chorus.

That's the good hurt. That's when you know you've found true love.

With that, please. I implore you...I beg you: above all, find that love. It's unbreakable. You two will never part ways unless you choose to leave it. It will be right there waiting for you when all else fails, with open arms. It will drive you and feed you and nourish you.

Find that something that crushes your heart because you don't know what to do with yourself when you're around it. You don't know if you should scream or cry or smile so you usually do all of it at once. Unless of course, you're breathless. In which case, gripping that breath with your organs hurts. But you can handle it...it's the good kind.

get right

2011-07-09T14:10:00.000-07:00

i like 24

don't forget to fly

2011-07-07T22:19:00.000-07:00

There's a lot to see in this world. Much to marvel. Heaps to heed. Volumes to view.

Much beyond our towns, be it we live in the grey, green and lush Pacific Northwest, dampened with rainy remains of hippies and grunge and granolas and other fads and cultures that stay consistent in reflecting the weather with the silver lining: cool, calm, and clear. Or be it the Middle America, homegrown, warm, beholden...reeling with perfectionists lining up all their ducks in neat beautiful rows: job, house, family. Check.

Much beyond our circles of friends and acquaintances and strangers we've acknowledged with an awkward nod on account of mutual associations or the occasional "Recommended Friend" cameos on Facebooks and Twitters and other digital algorithmic networks that seem to know who we're friends with before we've even met.

Much beyond our comfortable physical shelters, be it a sprawling McMansion in the suburbs of Orange County, gleaming with granite countertops, maple floors and other dreamy Craigs List seductions or an exposed brick shoebox on the Lower East Side of New York that puts the "starving" and "artist" into "starving artist" and screams "I will survive!" louder than a sorority girl at a karaoke bar.

Most importantly, much beyond our comfortable mental shelters, where we build toasty fires and cuddle up with our thoughts, ideas and mental routines and decide to spoon for prolonged periods of time, even when their hibernation tenures have expired and life is shoving us out of the rotting rut, even if we want to nuzzle that cerebral masturbation just a little longer. "Move bitch! Get going!"

This seems like straightforward knowledge but dear friend, it's not as elementary as it sounds at first listen. These are like the quotes we recite and write and post and repost but do not take the time to remind ourselves of when waking up on a simple Wednesday. These are the things we howl passionately when we're drunk and having heart to hearts with close cohorts on roofs at 3 AM, deciding there is only one way to live life and that's all out. These are the things we wrote about in our journals when we were 11 but continue neglecting on the barely lit back burner because somehow we were braver at that age than we are now. There is a massive terrain out there that will sit quietly until some fire inside you decides you're ready to conquer it. And though that seems obvious, it's easy to forget...

Do remember when you're brushing your teeth to do something that terrifies you today. Do remember when you're making your coffee that there aren't shortcuts to worthwhile destinations. Do remember when you're driving your car that traffic is an ideal time to become present and turn the mundane into the inspiring. Do remember when you're clocking in to the job that pays the bills that what you really want to do is be an actor, a cook, a violinist, a writer, a photographer...an influence. Do remember when you're cooking dinner that there are cuisines you have yet to savor, flavors you would lust after if only you knew existed and salivations that make you forget about the word "mild" and never want to revisit it again. Do remember when you're turning off the lights that there is no such thing as "lost"...only "wandering." And do remember when you go to sleep at night that tomorrow is another day to turn it all around.

even cowgirls get the blues

2011-07-02T12:49:00.000-07:00

Erin Wasson doing that incredible rebel/Southwestern/I'm going to beat you up/make you fall in love with me thing that she does. Lend me thy moves, young tomboy (and those booties please).

Erin Wasson for Elle France, June 2011

(via knight cat)

handsome

2011-06-27T08:57:00.000-07:00

photos: the impossible cool, jak & jil, stockholm street style

a few things this friday

2011-06-24T16:19:00.000-07:00

TREATS: It's the weekend! I have been terrible at posting as of late, due to my disease of non-stop workaholism (I've been whistling the same excuse tune for a while...I will stop). But that's boring and the last thing I want to do is bore you on this here blog. So let's talk about items of interest, shall we? Ok then.

I've been craving Palm Springs lately. I've had this vivid fantasy involving me lounging on a cheap Walgreens lawn chair, looking out into the wide open desert during a sunset in extremely hot air, sipping a bourbon and ginger beer cocktail. Mmmm. This has something to do with the imagery of Bret Easton Ellis' Less Than Zero permanently stamped in my brain, I'm certain.

I need these really bad. They have my name written all over them and are purring "Come hither. Put us on your footsies!"

This chillwave cover of Arcade Fire's "The Suburbs" by Scandinavian darling Mr. Little Jeans is oh so dreamy. Pair it with the above mentioned Palm Springs mirage and we have ourselves a slice of summer heaven.

Garrett Hedlund is hot and has an impressively deep voice. That's all I have to say about that.

I've always thought gaps in the front teeth are super sexy. Flaunt mag did a nice little roundup of legendary faces that wouldn't be the same without them. Brigitte Bardot, Lara Stone, Lauren Hutton...need I say more?

Have a beautiful weekend my friends! Enjoy the midsummer festivities, whatever they may be in your world. Until next week!