I'll be brief today. Here's the deal...
I was on a business trip all this past week and was all psyched to get a free upgrade on my flight back yesterday. (More legroom and free food and entertainment? Count me in!)
Alas, I ended up with an old woman who was rather gracious and sweet, but had to sit diagonally with her leg outstretched (impeding on my legroom completely) to my right, another woman who liked to order endless snacks and eat them enthusiastically causing a steady stream of various chip, pretzel, and cracker bits to pelt me from my left side, and a rather enthusiastic child who loved to sing, slam his tray table open and closed, kicked the seat and let out sounds that he would repeat for many, many minutes on end...with a mother who was apparently not very into discipline...behind me.
In short, my flight was not very pleasant. Despite turning off the air vent above me, there was a mystery stream of drying plane air blasting me in the face, a healthy dose of turbulence, and work that I needed to get done.
So, by the time I stepped off the plane, I was a mess. Nauseous, a bit feverish, with aching sinuses. My body was one big knot and I had the world's darkest circles under my eyes.
And by "warrior" I really mean "an individual who is willing to fight the difficult battle of not spending their days off just sitting on the couch binge watching Sherlock." (At least, not all of their days off.)
After that London trip, my wanderlust kicked into high gear, but knowing that my bank account wasn't ready for another European vacation and that I had to think about things like, oh, I dunno, work and life responsibilities, I made a conscious decision to try to go do more interesting things on the weekends. These activities would have to fit in the following criteria...
Hello from crisp Los Angeles! That's right, everyone. The temperatures have finally come down again and despite it still being warm in the sun, the shorter days and shade are filled with a newfound chill that I'm obsessing over.
Of course, being a sweaterphile (Charles coined this term last week after I blacked out and purchased two more sweaters online because that's what always happens...I come to and suddenly have a receipt in my inbox thanking me for my order for X number of sweaters), I'm pulling out a new favorite today. This J. Crew sweater is everything to me right now. The dolman sleeves cropped above my wrists with a boxy, wide cut and cropped length spells L-O-V-E. The mock turtle neckline is just right (which is almost never the case) and it's wool without being itchy. It's cozy, but roomy and comfy. Kinda like a light blanket with sleeves. Bonus: My dog loves cuddling extra hard with me when I'm wearing it.
Now, I don't know about you, but when the words "Love is a Battlefield" come up in casual conversation (which they totally do because we're all always talking about Pat Benatar, right?), I can't help but take a moment to revel in its absolute truth. I'm not calling it war, but it is absolutely a battle.
You see, my relationships over the years took all sorts of shapes and forms. There were very high high's and extremely low low's. There were moments where I absolutely hated myself and couldn't understand why I was acting the way I was and still other moments where my inner therapist was giving me a figurative high-five for dealing with things so well.
Love makes us do and say stupid things...sometimes it's not even love. Sometimes it's lust. Sometimes it's just insecurity and an innocent bystander...and at some point you might wake up one day and realize you've committed yourself to just one other person. (Whether by marriage or the use of commitment-related names like boyfriend, girlfriend, other half and so on.)
And though we're brainwashed at an early age to think that people find love, fall into it and then live happily ever after, the truth is that you find love, you fall into it, then you are standing in it and have to figure out whether you think love is being knee-deep in the River Styx and you just have to survive or love is wading through an oasis in the middle of a quiet, palpable alone-ness...or somewhere in between. (Which is where I think most of us are.)
You may recall from last week's London post that I had made one major purchase while across the pond. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, I bought a new pair of Doc Martens. [Insert a massive crowd cheering here.]
I should probably preface all of this by explaining that I've been on the hunt for years and years for the perfect Docs...a journey that would put Frodo Baggins to shame. I bought one pair in middle school oh so long ago when I was around 13 and they were the best. I'm starting to think I actually blocked out any memories of breaking them in because I just remember them fitting so perfectly.
Truly one pair to rule them all. (And by "all" I mean "my feet" and by "rule" I mean "lovingly dress".) Man, I loved those things...even when the 90's were happening in all their floral, peace-signed, flannely glory, my docs were always the anchor that kept me from floating adrift in the ocean of horrendous fashion choices...and, oh, the 90's were a time when that was a very easy thing to do.
I give up. The weather in LA is ridiculous. Just when I was getting really excited about dipping temps...just when my head began bursting with visions of scarves, hot drinks, thick sweaters and cozy walks along streets lined with changing foliage...just when I was ready to wear my new winter coat every single day because that's what I do when I get something I love...
Just when all of this was happening, the temperature decided to creep back up over the last week. It was back to mid-80's and relentless sunshine which is fine and dandy for some, but a lack of seasons is really starting to mess with my brain's ability to understand the passing of time. That and the whole excitement-of-winter thing that was stolen away from me.
Lob. It's a weird hair terms, right? In our never-ending quest to save time by combining words, we've come up with some real keepers: Brangelina, Hombré (male ombré, if you weren't aware), Kimye, BRUNCH (the best one to date), and sometime in the last 5 years or so...the lob.
But enough about word combos. What I'm really getting at is I got myself a lobby-lob of my very own and a little colory-color (that one didn't work as well, did it) to take me into the cooler months. Despite initial shock, I gotta say that I'm digging' on the new look. (Not sure if you really noticed the change in my UK post. Most of the photos were pretty zoomed out or my hair was pulled back.)
I'll be honest. Part of me wanted to hold on to the eternally summery LA blonde, but I let my hairstylist Charles Fox have his way with me, which always works out for the better. He took me from a buttery, light, long-haired blonde with black roots to an ashy, lob-haired blonde with brown roots...though the change is subtle, it's impactful. I feel like I went from straight-up, fun-loving, Cali styling to business-first, secretly-fun, and might-be-up-to-something, Frenchie styling. He gave me the color and cut equivalent to a wink and a nudge...or an asterisk that leads to something surprising.*
Guess what? This time I have a real excuse for being MIA on the blog. I ran off to the UK with Charles for a little over a week and decided that I was going to actually enjoy myself and not work during that entire time (aside from Instagram coverage which ended up being easier than expected thanks to the UK and all its lovely free wifi hotspots.) Follow this amazing trip with Charles getting sick and me fighting some sort of illness off for a few days and here we are in the present.
I still feel like I'm fighting something off, but I've been taking in lots of vitamin C and trying to get as much sleep as possible...but I couldn't bear to not tell you about my time in the UK before the afterglow wore off.
So, instead of writing about everything, I'll just show you what happened along with a little context. All I can say is that I'm so ready to move to the UK if anyone wants to let me live in their guest house or in a closet. I'm flexible...
Well, hi again! For once, my MIA-status has a great excuse. I've returned from an amazing trip to the UK and a week of fighting off some sort of illness along with playing nurse to a sick husband. (Charles is finally feeling better, by the way...Me? Still fighting things off.)
So, here we are. A week from when I returned from the UK, heartbroken and wishing we could just live there. The cold, crisp, dampness of the UK was a really nice change from the dry, sunny, heatwaves of Los Angeles. (Yes, every Brit I said this too basically looked at me like I had murdered 100 babies.)
See, it's not just that I like cool, crisp weather and a little dampness in general. My body loves it too. My cheeks are rosy, my hair gets a little wild, and I feel healthier. (It could have also been all the tea and scones...which definitely make me feel better.) You know what else cool, crisp weather gives me? It gives me a chance to actually wear clothing I love.
Here's the good news though. I come bearing useful information because, if you're even remotely in my age range, you probably have several friends who are getting married or are engaged and you're waiting to get another invitation in the mail.
With this comes the conundrum of trying to figure out what to wear to a wedding...and how to not blow tons of money doing it...while simultaneously making smart purchases that are of decent quality so as not to feel like you wasted money. We've all purchased a cheap dress that basically disintegrated after one night of use...it's time we stop doing that. We're all adults here, right? (As I turn off my PS4, finish my afternoon bowl of cereal, and sit down to have a serious conversation with you...)
Assuming you have several friend circles, you'll likely end up at several weddings that may not be attended by the same people which means you can get away with wearing the same outfit several times in a row. (Insert fist pump here.) In a pinch, changing your hair and lip color will usually throw people off enough to assume your outfit is different if they've seen you in it before. Sartorial trickery...it's all in the details.
Back to the story at hand though...