Where to Wear White. Wear to Where White?

I’ll be honest, I messed up the h’s in the above title quite a few times. So I just went with it.

Wearing white and staying white is no small feat. Especially when you are out for dinner or drinks or anywhere besides a clean room. That is empty, with no dust. Which means, me taking my new dress on a hiking expedition, albeit a paved one, was probably not the best idea. But, while out-a-wandering, I realized that the only thing I could do in this is mingle at a party that served fruit-salad without strawberries. So that’s something.

White is allegedly one of the “colors of the season” which means I have to have it, but it must also mean that fashion people don’t make dinner plans and don’t have friends. See, that’s me above, acting like a fashion person. You know, wearing footwear to impractical destinations and wandering around. “Hey friends, where are you? Do I have friends? Mom?”

Dressing in doesn’t always get you in with the in crowd, I guess. But I promise it won’t leave you wandering around the woods along either. What I can tell you is that head-to-toe white looks amazing and new, and this is coming from a person who is already head-to-toe white.  It works anywhere but a wedding. Cocktails, dinner parties, BBQs whatever. I am totally into it. In fact, there is a new white Panama hat sitting at my feet and I am trying to devise a way to photoshop it into these photos.

I’m also planning in my head, that has the hat on it now, a brunch date for my boyfriend to take me on so that I can put this lil’ number on again. I’ll add the hat and pre-sun-soak and we’ll see if I don’t make some friends then!

Dress, Kimberly Ovitz. Shoes, BCBG Max Azria. Bag, See by Chloe.

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Westside is Bestside

This is the neighborhood I grew up in. My house is certainly one of those that has succumbed to the fire. A very wise woman wrote today, “Reminds us of what is important. Our trust in God, and our relationships with others. Everything else is destroyed at the drop of a match.”

Heaven is in Oregon

Image Courtesy of Angel Vine. Note, this is a more expensive bottle and probably also delicious.

2009 Angel Vine Columbia Valley Zinfandel. Holy Moses, literally this time. Apparently angels on the vine translate to pure heaven in a glass. For those of you who drink red wine in the summertime (you know who you are) I commend you for your commitment to health and antioxidants and recommend that you try this bottle immediately. Or a glass, or a bottle, which ever you want. It’s summertime, get on a roof and get drinking! If it’s as sweltering where you are as it is where I am, you may want to keep the bottle under the air conditioning though…yikes.

  While I was mosey-ing around the internet for information on the winery, I found this picture of Zinfandel grapes (on the left) and Pinot Noir grapes (on the right). Car keys on top. I’m not really sure what any of this means, but I thought it was an interesting picture.

Zinfandels are infamous for their less-expensive, White-Zinfandel manifestations. These grapes are fruity and sweet, and therefore can be bottled in some pretty awful tasting ways. A good Zinfandel, like this one here, is fruity and dry, a little sweet but not in a tastes-like-the-wine-from-church kind of way.

These wines are very much American, this was the most commonly planted grape in California before it was overtaken by the Cabernet Sauvignon. And I am telling you, this is a must-try bottle, I mean it. Be Patriotic. Drink Wine.

Inspiration for a Wednesday Night

It hasn’t stopped raining for days it feels like. Therefore, I have been stuck inside for days being subjected to both Bar Studying videos and all of these new tumblr blogs explaining how terrible bar studying is through the use of “memes” as I am told they are called. Clever as it is, I don’t feel as though a Darth Vader Shoulder-Shake accurately depicts my feelings about third year of law school. But I’m just one person. Who happens to think, enough of this already. 

Luckily, though, I have plans to venture out of the house later this evening, and wouldn’t you know that means a glass or two of wine and a chance to get dressed up. I’ve been pretty obsessed with the outfits that a few-fellow bloggers have been putting together, and being that its June, and therefore summer colors are adequate, its miserable out which pretty much opens up my entire closet.

Leandra Medine, pure brilliance.

Columbine Smille I want to be you.

chicmuse.com pure beauty

So, I’m not sure any of this works for this evening, because we are staying sort of on the outside of town, but on the other hand we are having wine before hand so I find it unlikely I make it out of the house before throwing on glitter, animal print, or just “it all to the wind” (get it) and putting on a solo-piece just so I can thoughtfully pose everywhere and think “What happens if I have to go to the bathroom?” 

I’ve been drinking a lot of wine (no Mom, not a lot of wine. Ok a lot of wine) that I haven’t been telling you about and by golly its time to catch up. Also, that gives me an excuse to pour a glass right now, even though it’s not quite 5 pm. It’s for the photo and I wouldn’t want to waste it!

The first, a light Rioja rosé from Spain. The color is what sold me on it (I like my rosés rose-y) as well as the grape combination. It’s largely a Garnacha and Viura, which is a blend of both red and white grapes. It’s easy to tell upon drinking, because it has a lot of body, but it is crisp and refreshing at the same time. I say that it’s easy,  but it wasn’t until I looked it up that I realized it included white grapes! I feel like that last sentence could use a Meme. Plus, look at the color. SO Rose-y!

The other two are French, and I don’t want to overwhelm your senses with alcohol. I’ll update you soon! It’ll be like a surprise!

Food for Thought

Dinner last night. Lotsa wine, no tequila which I suppose now makes me a double liar. Also, in lieu of fringe I wore floral and stripes as a way of adapting to the fact that the temperatures were low and my lower limbs were somewhat unshaven.

Top, Urban Outfitters. Vest, Rag & Bone. Clutch, Marc by Marc Jacobs. Jeans, J Brand.

Shoes, Pour La Victoire. Nars Orgasm Blush. Tom Ford Perfume. Madewell bracelet.

I’m not going to say the name of the restaurant because I don’t have a lot of nice things to say and I’m more of what they call a gossiper. Plus, I already told you the genre and neighborhood so if you’re really dying to know I’m sure you can figure it out on your own. Double plus, if you ask me I’ll tell you.

During dinner, I often shift into my food-critic alter-ego to analyze the precision of the cooking techniques (“This steak is SO not medium”), the creativity of the dish and the appearance of the plate. I’m telling you, they could someone should pay me for this stuff. Last night, the filet was very much overcooked, the swiss chard was so salty I couldn’t eat it, and we were pretty sure that the cornbread puree was cornbread batter. The goat-cheese cheesecake was overcooked and tart, with really-tart strawberries on top and stale, whole pistachios on the side.  The meal was not terrible, but it wasn’t great either.

Being that we are now law school graduates and were nearing the end of our second bottle of wine, we took the conversation up a notch to discuss the overall complacency of food, restaurants and eating in general. This was the third or fourth time we went to a restaurant recommended by friends that turned out to be mediocre at best. When did it become acceptable to serve a relatively expensive yet totally mediocre steak? Just because something is a filet, or a short rib doesn’t mean it’s automatically delicious! Where is this going? Mom? Are you still there? 

Seriously, with all this worry about organic-this, low-cal-that, people seem to have lost focus on what actually tastes good. All cheesecakes are not made equal. Stop eating bad cheesecake. Please. Because then there won’t be bad cheesecake anymore and then I don’t have to risk bad cheesecake after I turn down the chocolate molten cake. Please.

Jewelmint Earrings. Vintage Cigar Box.

Back with Bags

Under my eyes and under my arm.

I know I said I was back, but now I am really back. Actually this time. Sometimes, little life-y things like landlords and graduation parties and whatnot get in the way. Of blogging. About my life.

Here’s an instagram recap:

 

The good news, as I hope is clear, is that all those activities were marvelous, and delicious. The better news is that little Phillip and Little Marc (above) arrived almost a week early which means its blogging time again! Oh heavens how I’ve missed it (and you dear readers).

Come see their new adventures aka stay tuned because I forgot to bring my camera cord today so I can’t upload the pictures. It’s a soft opening/return. Except for that it’s my second soft opening. Ok bye….

On Eating Blueberry Pie on a Wednesday

I think by now my existential crisis has become abundantly clear. Yes yes yes you say, I get it, you are confused about whether or not to wear Peplum, if Pastel is a lasting trend, and how many bottles of wine you can drink in a week and feel ok about yourself. The answer to the last one is the more you drink the better you feel about yourself, except that turns into an opposite at a certain point. Where that point is simply begs the original question, so I guess we are just back to where we started. Moving right along, then.

Yesterday, while wandering around Whole Foods looking for something for dinner, I exclaimed/grunted “I’m in a rut,” to which the bf responded by buying me a blueberry pie. Valiant effort to be sure, it certainly improved my mood. On the other hand, the only thing worse than that would have been me wandering around by myself, grunting and buying pies to eat alone in my mismatched sweat pants. Which, in effect, is the same thing except I am up $12 in real-life.

But alas, one cannot live on wine and blueberry pie alone, and the ever-pressing peplum inquiry will go unanswered without true experimentation and evaluation (stay.tuned). Yet in the face of what is perhaps to be my very last round (please God please) of finals ever, the threat of a tangly-haired, sweat-panted, Ugg-infested rut is very real. So I brought out my favorite things and threw them on my bed to remember: I’m a real person, in the real world and people have to look at me. I imagine they would rather look at sequins than anything with the words “PINK” or “Adidas” on them…

Similarly, I finally downloaded my Food & Wine subscription to my iPad. It’s pretty much the coolest thing ever, its like reading a magazine at Hogwarts it is so interactive. I am committed to avoiding my 1L faux pas of eating three jars of peanut butter (hold the bread) in a matter of 12 days.

No, that means I’m eating brain food: Red meat, dark greens, bright reds. For breakfast, think Stella McCartney RTW Spring 2011. (You are what you eat). Just healthy all around. All day everyday. Nothing gets you more in a rut than gross take-out food and grumpy delivery guys. Plus, if I fail all else fails (fail is a poor choice of word considering the subject matter) I get hungry, I still have three-quarters half of a blueberry pie. Rut be damned. Or filled, or whatever.

Get the recipe here: Food & Wine, Spiced Rubbed T-Bone Steak. But please remember, if we are in a class together, its preferable to me that you not eat this until a month or two after the exam. Unless spicy food gives you indigestion, in which case, be my guest. Muahahaha… Sorry, good luck.

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Visual Stimulation to Get You Through the Wednesday

Just think, its almost the end of the week which means its almost the weekend. Hopefully your weather has been as enjoyable–if windy–as it has been here in Boston these last few days. I for one, cannot get enough of the sunshine.

Outtake from Yesterday's Post.

Oh yeah, that all happened. Except dinner with Miranda Kerr, but it seemed so topical.