preppy pink (!)

Pink has never been my color. I have never been a huge fan of pink in any of its shades…except for an unfortunate spell in the late ’80s. I blame New Kids on The Block and their neon-saturated merchandise. I fucking LOATHE that pink has become code for girl. I’m tired of pink toys and pink clothes and pink princess culture. I hate it. I have owned a handful of pink things in my life–most memorably a pink panda hoodie with ears–and I had pink streaks in my hair about eight years ago, but for the most part, I stay away.

After being sick for the whole of January, culminating in a stomach that could barely accept food, I needed something to cheer me up. In my bag of nail polishes, the bottle of NYC Preppy Pink called to me. I didn’t purchase it; it was part of a Christmas present. So, while watching That Metal Show, of all things, I tried it, and I’m kind of in love.

Barbie-Pepto Realness.

Barbie-Pepto Realness.

I keep looking at my hands as if they belong to someone else. They feel a little Barbie-esque. The polish was easy to apply and dried so smoothly, much more so than other brands I’ve used. I’m super impressed with how lovely it looks.

I used yummy hand cream from The Body Shop before applying color to my nails, and my hands don’t look completely ragged and terrible, as they had been looking for months, thanks to constant hand-washing, cleaning, cooking, etc. I wonder how I’ll feel when I go back to my standard greige/black/green rotation. Who am I kidding? I’ll probably let this chip to high hell and get gross nails all over again. Then again, it actually felt good to indulge in a little bit of frivolity. I did just get some nail sequins in my Birchbox….

Preppy_Pink2

Suddenly, I want to take a trip to Ulta to buy fancy shit for my hair and body. I treated myself a bit at The Body Shop, Lush and Victoria’s Secret thanks to a gift card I received at work (and those post-holiday sales were just calling my name), and these small acts of frivolity make me feel human when everything in my body is screaming otherwise. I may have felt like crap, but at least my skin was soft. It’s the little things.

So tonight, I’ll be raising my pink-tipped hands to the sky watching Nine Inch Nails, Foo Fighters and Queens of the Stone Age bring rock back to the Grammys. Maybe I’ll also give myself a pedicure and read a magazine. (I know, I’m trying to back off, but when I can’t eat or sleep properly, magazines are the literary equivalent to comfort food.) What are you going to do for yourself today?

[sic]

A Love Affair.

So, Lover Man and I hopped on the Greyhound and headed to New York.

Few things are as poetic as being on the road, watching the world go by. I caught myself staring at Lover Man so many times, just lost in his profile cutting the blur of the trees and traffic. He put his arm around me, and we snuggled, listening to Elvis’ version of Hey Jude. Melt.

I held fast to my notebook and let the words flow: the ending to a short story I’ve been working on, private thoughts about the dashing gentleman in the seat next to me, musings and such.

Another weekend in Brooklyn, another opportunity to do something amazing. This time, it was a trip through the Brooklyn Flea Market, a hipster bazaar, with Lover Man and my friend Al. Think row upon row of antiques, vintage clothes, jewelry and, of course, food. Lots of food.

The market was full of romance, and I have fallen deeply in love. Sumptuous textiles, unexpected twists (lacy pleats! gold stars!), and serious gastronomical delights. Brilliant.

PS: These earrings totally went home with me, and I wore them out that very night, along with an awesome shirt I found for $10! Love the jewelry at Melody’s Addiction! Seriously, obsessed with these earrings.

Back to the Flea!

(Side note: I do not know how to ride a bike. I know, I know. I’m thinking this is the summer I’m going to learn, and I was so inspired by all these bikes. Thanks to the research I did for  my HellaWella article, I’ll know what to look for to avoid damaging my ladybits! Yes, that was as shameless plug. I REGRET NOTHING. Moving on….)

The food. My god, the food. Lover Man started off with Porchetta, and then we all indulged in Asia Dog. Despite my breaking vegetarian code for the occasional hot dog, I went veggie dog here. The calls of “Al! Al!” when the food was done also prompted a spoken word performance of  this song:

It was perfect.

Oh, and did I mention Dough, AKA the greatest doughnut I have ever eaten in my entire life? 

Passionfruit with chocolate nibs. Get one. Now.

Love is delicious! Love is exciting! Love is glamorous and delicate and sexy and a treasure to unearth among the chaos.

Love is also exhausting.

Luckily, we got in a comfy car for the ride home the next day. Greyhound is great, but far be it from me to turn down door-to-door service.

[sic]