beautiful inertia

There is something affecting about the calm after a storm. The air lies thickly spread, still pregnant with the tension that has just retired, the occasional dribble continuing to fall in flux. The rain has cooled the steaming earth, bathing it in a cloudy mist that both relieves and obscures. A hint of lilac permeates the room, a welcomed reminder of the fragrant lush swelling with life beyond the window frame. There is an intangible romance that eludes explanation, the feeling of a distinct sentimental acuteness that is rooted in some nostalgic vagary. An irrepressible desire to lie in languid sprawl with you and listen to the delicate cadence of drops as they fall in tempo with nature’s whim.

Contentedness flows in our veins tonight, and we pause to drink in all that is right with our world; outward comforts melded with internal satisfaction, we wonder why it isn't our instinctive propensity to always be so at ease with the universe. Is pure distilled happiness so fleeting that it comes and goes with the sun’s rotation, existing only for brief moments between the accelerated pace of daily routines? We have become more aware of these luscious pauses, reveling at how refreshed we feel, how appreciative we are of those that have the power to bestow upon us these gorgeous moments of clarity and complacency.

I sit alone with my thoughts tonight and listen to the subtle movement of the outside world, the slender sound of the deluge as it descends, and wonder if you can hear it too. I wonder if, for whatever reason, it makes you think of me.

x o x o
n

NEED

NOW
.
tie me up

muse

It is a curious age that our generation inhabits. The notion of the “self-made” individual has never been so strong; people are becoming billionaires for “inventing” (re: marketing en masse) items like the Snuggie, 13-year old bloggers sit front row at fashion shows while editors of lucrative publications are relegated behind (it’s all the same level of “who are you again?” after the first row, anyhow), I mean for fuck sake, the cast of Jersey Shore is getting paid thousands of dollars to show up at the greasy clubs bouncers used to gleefully toss them from. These people are famous because of phenomenons like the Internet, because at any given moment of the day, there is an audience somewhere out there drooling in front of a screen, validating the existence of these “celebrities” by giving them attention via whatever media outlet happens to be at their fingertips. And they eat it up like lil dolls. Any why shouldn’t they? We all do it. I’m not here to preach or point my proverbial finger at anyone. Internet creepage is pleasurable in the guiltiest sense of the word (well, almost ;). What I do find fascinating, however, is this concept of attention and how it has spilled over into all aspects of daily life, saturating the very fibers of the bread that feeds us to the threads of the garments that clothe us. We seek it, crave it, and cease to exist without it. And yet, it is the pink elephant in the room, it is the inclination for which we have all taken an unspoken vow of silence. It is utterly unacceptable for one to verbalize their lust for the attention (visa vie, admiration?) of total fucking strangers. It somehow sounds conceited… I mean, why should anyone take notice of anyone? Especially based on the slight information that is revealed through first impressions; it’s not like anyone you meet in passing would ever know if you have ever participated in a single worthwhile endeavor in your entire life, and yet, here we are, all of us feeling entitled to being acknowledged.

I find it even more amusing how this idea in particular is applied to women. It’s like equality of the sexes has forced us to become more modest regarding our appearance. To be blatantly provocative while strutting down the street would be widely regarded by many females as totally innaprops (yes, I must admit, I have cast my fair share of stones at such types…usually of the 905 variety). AND YET, behind all the cynicism, should you happen to be fabulously dressed and wearing completely unpractical footwear whilst frolicking down the sidewalk, to not have anyone hollering at you, or honking, or stopping you with a flimsy excuse for a phone number would seem, dare I say…Disappointing?

Ladies: I say we embrace it. For all of you who claim to find it annoying or an inconvenience or whatever ridiculous excuse you have fabricated to deal with these situations, I say you throw it out the window. To circle back to my initial statement regarding the relationship between celebrities and attention, it can safely be assumed that without it, they would fall into total obscurity and cease to endure. The same can be said of feminine allure; it only continues to exist if there is demand for it. Let’s stop biting the hand that feeds us.

That being said; there is also a vastly discernible difference between being overtly slootish and being subtle. Anyone can show off the tna. It takes a much more sophisticated gal to pay attention to such virtues as a sneaky peak of a lace bra revealed.

Isn’t it every girl’s fantasy to be the glam knockout that walks into a bar and has every eye on her? Even if it were only a fantasy and thereby safely confined to the realm of internal speculations. After all, as Audrey said, there are certain shades of limelight that can wreck a girl’s complexion…

So fear not, ma chéries, for your secret is safe with me!
I suppose we can all continue to dance with our pink elephants.

h & k,

n

muse

I’m home at last, my darling little blog, and have missed you ever so much! I can unabashedly admit that an entire week sans Blackberry and Internet access did leave the mind reeling for daily doses of urban chatter, but being incommunicado allowed for some much needed respite and reflection on the whirlwind year I have just narrowly escaped from alive. And after all, if one is going to drop off the map and disappear to an oceanic paradise, then there is no one better to have accompany you than your beau, and I was lucky enough to have mine all to myself for nine blissful days.

What a strange pace time seems to take when displaced from our familiar surroundings; daily life becomes suspended in limbo and seems like nothing more than a heat-induced mirage far, far away on the horizon. It’s like the mind is able to finally heave a collective sigh of relief and drift into a languid lounge, hungrily devouring the fruits of a pleasure read after so many months of insipid emails, and basking in the glow of an indulgent tabloid binge. Reading about the fragmented lives of others, be they of the fictional or famous nature (comparable, non?) is so much more satisfying when one’s own life is in perfectly simplified order, and the most pressing item on the day’s agenda is finding a poolside chaise with optimum exposure to the sun.

After all, is there anything more effective for soothing an aggravated soul than the healing potential of a idyllic environment? The sun’s rays bathe us in a healthy glow that banishes our stunned and sheltered winter selves to ghosts from a far away time that we barely acknowledge the existence of. Balmy winds, pristine white sands, and vivid cerulean salty waves calm our ravaged nerves and allow us to return back to reality with a sense of victory, as if all our inner turmoil has been resolved and left behind. Refreshed, recharged, and ready to tackle this season’s new set of goals and challenges.

Plus, is there really any better accessory than a killer tan?

Entre nous, of course not.

x o x o

n

sunsoaked abandon

blue bayou

It is official.. Mexican beaches in a mere 4 days!!!! I am absolutely bursting with anticipation; days spent lounging in the languid sunshine, nights spent bumpin' to the rhythmic tunes of sweet summer synths... and all the time surrounded by gorgeous turquoise seas and skies.

Vogue France, March 07

buenas noches beauties
x o x o

please?

x

bag lady

Celine Luggage Bag - S/S 2010

Phoebe Philo (of Chloé design fame) has taken the reigns for her debut collection with the beloved French house Celine, creating a ready-to-wear collection that boasts synonymous elements of candor and cleanliness with classic European elegance. This bag in particular embodies the culmination of unfussied qualities, showcasing minimal hardware, and instead choosing to emphasize silhouette, texture, and refined luxury. Buttery soft leather and suede, precisely set stitching, and raised pieces help to foster interesting composition. The elimination of unnecessary design clutter, abandoned in favour of stark undertones and astute detailing; a new expression of contemporary minimalism.

The perfect embodiment of my singular summer resolution; what a pity that at $2,500 US, this Luggage will never be mine.

si tragique. second-hand lust will have to satisfy.

x x

musings of the enamoured mind

Finally, the time of year that the fatigued and overburdened student craves is upon us: summer. Mid-afternoon naps resulting from all-nighters pulled previously are no longer plagued by ominous projects due the next day, and the promise of yet another late night looming ahead. Instead, evenings are languid with repose and time spent with the ones we love, accompanied by a casual glass or wine (or two) after an accomplished day at the office. In fact, as I write this, I am curled up in my lovely down duvet, the sunshine is filtering in through my open window, and the possibilities of an entirely unscheduled afternoon have me positively giddy. It’s astounding what a lapse of responsibilities and some good weather can do for a girl’s disposition.

I am alleviated and inspired by greenery, as a Venus-ruled Taurus through and through, and the lush foliage now fluttering lazily on the branches of trees has provoked exactly those feelings. The creative potential that this point of summer break, the very cusp, the very furthest point from when I will next be in school, is so richly delicious, its like a too sweet bit of confectionary that tingles your jaw line as it dissolves in your mouth. Endless lists are formulating in my head, places to go, people to see, things to accomplish. The prospect of such overwhelming desires and goals coming to fruition is enough to overwhelm the poor reclusive student that has existed within me for the past 8 months.

What’s even more exciting is a true sense of self that I feel I am beginning to nurture; the feeling that with only one year left of school pending prior to graduation, that I am beginning to forage a sense of what I what to do with my life. A love of all things creative, I have never really found that I truly excelled in the traditional artistic mediums (although I do enjoy partaking in them for the purposes of pastimes) and there has always seemingly been a void in what I felt was a lacking portfolio of inspired expression. However, the recent encouragement of professors and office place superiors has me feeling motivated to further explore that with which I have always had the highest affinity for: the written word. It is the way I see the world, the medium for which I substitute in place of a paintbrush and canvas; the intent to illustrate with adjectives decadent in description and prose that is meandering and subtle. There is too much mediocrity that exists in the world as results of those employing the use of the written word where they are completely under-qualified to do so, thanks to all new forms of social media, and admittedly, the blogging epidemic that leads everyone with a MacBook Pro to thinking that they are a writer. In any case, I feel a true sense of inner affirmation that I am on my way to finding my niche, and am feeling confident in the plethoric wells of inspiration I have to draw from in aiding and abetting me on this quest. I’ll spare you the futile exercise of devising a list of summertime musts (it’s almost a jinx that ensures they will never see the light of reality) and instead simplify and refine my voice down to the bare essentials; to focus on cultivating a style that is unmistakably my own (as should be true of all that I do).

After all, why waste time on superfluous imitation?

love,
n