There's something about the rain softly hitting my window that always inspires me to write.

It's weird being a part of the city yet being so far away from it. I'm more of a fan of the place I lived where the rain was drowned out by passing city cars, honks and occasional swearing from everyday outdoor dwellers.

There's something about the silence of my new home that irks me. City sounds are comforting, reminding me that I'm not far from the excitement down below and that any time I want to I could leave my nice warm bed and go on an adventure.

The sounds of rain on my window, birds chirping and church bells do not spell out adventure for me and do not call me to leave my nice warm bed.

I can't complain though.

Right now, I'm in the process of breaking every body in my life into two categories - east coast or west coast.

I'm currently on the east coast sides of things with four different seasons and the required diet of coffee and cigarettes. The cold coast where they'll look at you crooked if you're friendly or hold the door open for them. Nobody has time and there's never enough of it.

I've come to the conclusion that being all sunshine and rainbows, as I am, I'm more of a west coast person. I like warmer climates, relaxed environments and falling asleep with sand in my hair.

Also, I'm blonde. How can east coast blondes do you know who aren't just fooling themselves?

And what does that mean for the rest of my time being spent on the east coast? Is it my job to bring a little bit of sunshine to dreary New York and Philadelphia?

Naw. My job is avoid wearing black at all costs, smile at strangers on subways and never ever fall for an east coast boy who drinks scotch and thinks his art should be all about being as dark and twisty as possible.



If there's no room for unicorns in your life, there's no room for me.

California, come take me home.

I have a thing with magazines.

 It's an obsession I've had since I was a young girl, carefully cutting out pictures of celebrities to be artfully placed in a collage on my bedroom wall. In fact, back then you couldn't even see what color the wall was, all that was left was overlapping glossy photographs of Aaron Carter and Britney Spears with pore less faces and flawless grins. Now as I grew older, this quickly turned into designer advertising campaigns and feature spreads, both with equally flawless faces as I reached my tween years. Yes, I was reading Vogue and Lucky at ten years old and trying to emulate high fashion. I remember the first time I got Vogue's September Issue, I was in the fourth grade, I had just gotten very ill and my mom had started this tradition of getting me a new magazine every time I was sick. She came home with a box of tissues, some medicine and then handed me this massive magazine. I could barely even lift it to read it but within those pages were the most unique looking people and styles I've ever seen. This felt like a whole new kind of fantasy to me, like a fairytale come to life. Everything looked so lovely and glamorous, it was a whole different world between those pages compared to the drab small town I lived in. It was beautiful and wondrous and well, I've been in love with fashion and magazines ever since. 

While I still have my favorite magazine, NYLON that I read religiously, most other publications I've switched to the online version or just browsing in them when I'm in line at the local drugstore, this is mostly due to having to spend my college budget on more important things like green tea and bagels.  But every once in a while, I treat myself. 

The chosen magazines for this day were ALLURE and VOGUE.

Now with the exception of The September Issue, I'm not a huge Vogue reader, mostly because it just depresses me how at this time in my life I'll never be able to afford anything in the magazine and I should read something more practical that doesn't leave me feeling depressed and calculating just how long I'd have to work off a pair of Jimmy Choos if I started saving now.

 (Which is about 2 years, in case you were wondering.)

As for ALLURE, I'm a fashion girl, not a makeup girl. I keep things simple. With the exception of watching a few tutorials on youtube and asking makeup artists for tips while they're working, I don't desire much more knowledge than that. Makeup has never interested me the way fashion did. Although I have all the respect in the world for someone that can do it, it is an art to its own degree but it's just never been for me. 

For these choices, it was the covers celebrities that really sold me and if you know me, that's an odd thing for me to say. I'm a firm believer that models should be on magazine covers, not celebrities. But these editorials were too stunning to not take a second glance at. 

Zooey Deschanel Allure February 2012 

Photographed by Norman Jean Roy

Taylor Swift Vogue February 2012

Photographed by Mario Testino

In particular, I'm in love with the western styled look on the Taylor Swift photos, I'm hoping it's foreshadowing a western inspired trend for the spring because I would be all for that. 

Thoughts on either shoot? Favorite magazine from when you were a kid? Or now?

xx 

I really am the absolute worst.

I went to New York yesterday and only took a picture of a water bottle the whole time I was there.

I guess this whole blogging/taking photos of my life thing makes me feel a little like my own paparazzi. Not to mention when my fingers are numb and I'm wearing platform heels, I don't exactly feel like stopping in the streets for a quick snapshot.

I guess we all suffer for art in different ways.

But contrary to the lack of photos, I did do exciting things.
 I went to an audition for a condom company. Well, inadervetedly.
I didn't know it was for a condom company until after I got there.

Either way, I won't be devastated if I don't get a call back. Sexy has never been my thing.
 I will, however, be devastated if I don't return to New York soon.

While Philadelphia has my heart, New York City is slowly stealing it away....


Until next time.

I start every January with the same feeling.
With the intense pressure of a new beginning and a fresh start for every negative aspect of my life. 

Both heath wise: swear less, eat healthier, attempt to do something remotely athletic beyond my daily fifteen minute walk to class and personal: get organized, stop buying shoes worth more than my rent, fall in love with more wisely. 

While these are all great ideas in theory, following through with them beyond the first week or two proves futile.

So this year, I am choosing to be free.

And while starting a blog the first month of a new year may be a cliche, I’m not going pressure myself into writing in it every day. That will not be my “ resolution “ and I will not look at writing in a blog or posting outfits of the day or whatever I choose to do on here as a chore with a deadline.

But if inspiration strikes, I know where to find you....

Here’s to a free new year, full of the best intentions and even better mistakes.