This Saturday, I plan on changing up my standard behaviors of drinking wine in bed watching Sex and the City re-runs, by doing the same thing with one of my best friends in our underwear. That’s right, it’s Valentine’s Day (or as it’s been renamed, Singles’ Awareness Day). Truth be told, I love red roses– so long as there isn’t one single sprig of baby’s breath within a five mile radius. I also love lingerie, chocolate, gifts, and well, love. I don’t actually have a problem with the holiday other than the fact that it’s a commercially manufactured one and it’s still not legal to marry your pet as there are not really any other suitable males in my life to spend February 14th with.
It seems a little counterintuitive to combine wearing skimpy lingerie while overindulging in chocolate, but then again, I enjoy all my meals in bed, so I’m in. If you don’t have a significant other, or even if you do, I think Valentine’s Day is a great a day as any to show yourself a little bit of love.
We’ve all awoken as the morning sun manages to creep through the black out shades rendering us nearly blind to the startling realization that the water glass on the nightstand is empty and that nightstand is not our own. The second pang of panic comes barreling through shortly after groggily recalling that what we deemed appropriate attire for a late evening dalliance may not exactly translate to daytime, let alone during the morning commute with other responsible, gainfully employed adults. I was not a Girl Scout, but I am always prepared. 98% of the time, there is a pair of sunglasses stashed safely in my bag (I painfully learned this lesson during that other 2% of the time). Sunglasses are essentially a real life force field. Whether they actually prove to disguise your appearance from curious onlookers or not is irrelevant so long as you feel like they do. As you carefully tiptoe your way to the restroom only to discover that your previously perfect blowout more resembles Bob Marley’s dreadlocks, you breathe a sigh of relief knowing that you have a hair tie on your wrist and a collection of bobby pins in the bottom of your bag. This is when when a top knot comes in handy (tutorial here). The only problem left is somehow making that tiny crop top look less Pretty Woman and more Carrie Bradshaw.
One of my favorite outfits and favorite shoots (which you can see in totality here) is a perfect example of something that would garner compliments post sunset and could attract clientele come morning if you’re seen standing on the corner too long awaiting your Uber. Whether your evening prior to sunrise had been raucous or rather innocent, sometimes you’ve got to borrow from your boy’s closet to save some dignity, but how does one do so without looking like a total shacker? In this instance, wearing a belted pair of shorts with your crop top and pulling your hair into a squeaky clean top knot will certainly fool any innocent bystander into believing that you did, in fact, wake up like this.
Alright, when I said the 90’s revival was something I could get behind, I seem to have forgotten about one trend that probably should stay tucked safely inside that decades’ time capsule. The scrunchie. Ah yes, that fabric covered hair tie of school days past. Be it in your hair or on your wrist, you were nobody without a color coordinated scrunchie. Despite the upside of the scrunchie (less stress on your tresses), I’m not sure it’s one hair trend that I want to see resurrected. And isn’t that why they invented these?
As Carrie Bradshaw so adeptly stated in an episode of Sex and the City:
“Okay, but here’s the thing. Here’s my crucial point. No women who works at W Magazine and lives on Perry Street would be caught dead at a hip downtown restaurant wearing a scrunchie!”
But alas, designers like Vivienne Westwood, Ashish, Missoni, and Marc Jacobs sent looks down the catwalk accessorized with this beauty throwback (you can buy a $95 Missoni one here). Even “it” girls Fearne Cotton and Cressida Bonas have been seen keeping stray strands at bay with the aid of a scrunchie. Former “it” girls all over the trend? Lisa Turtle, all three Tanner girls, and, gasp, even Sarah Jessica Parker herself.
There comes a day in every girl’s life when she must part with something she truly loves. Something she’s spent every single day for several years with. Though it’s painfully hard, she knows it’s for the best for both of them. So, she takes her computer to Tekserve to give it a little rest and relaxation.
It would appear that I’ve been awfully hard on my Mac. The poor thing has run out of space and I’d been seeing the “wheel of death” way more frequently than one should. Things that would normally take a few moments started taking many minutes. My patience finally wore thin and I knew it was time for an intervention. What took me so long to bring my baby into the shop? Well, it’s terribly tough to figure out the most opportune time to be without your computer when you’re a writer. Not to mention, spending an hour in line waiting to speak to a technician is less than an ideal way to spend Saturday afternoon–but that’s precisely how I spent mine. The technician was impressed that I’d backed up my hard drive that morning and I informed him that Sex and the City had at least taught me one valuable lesson. He admitted he’d only seen the episode that had been filmed there because it used to play on a loop in the waiting area.
So, that’s where we’re at. My computer is having a spa getaway, I’m feeling anxious posting from an iPad, and we should be reunited and up and running again this afternoon.
West Virginia tends to get a bit of a bad rap. Whenever I tell someone that I grew up/went to school there, I get the typical antiquated responses. “Are your parents cousins?” “You have nice teeth though.” “I love Virginia!” Come on, guys. Haven’t we gone over this? West Virginia isn’t all hillbillies and bare feet. The Bachelorette whisked her date to the Greenbrier in this week’s episode and as a matter of fact, it may be more Sex and the City than one might think (Sarah Jessica Parker stayed in Wheeling during the birth of her twins via surrogate).
Even when I don’t have a literal home of my own and can’t figure out where I want to be, West Virginia always feels like home to me. With its rolling hills, friendly faces, and unrivaled natural beauty (have you seen my sorority sisters), West Virginia hardly lives up to its reputation. It defies it. And I’m willing to bet if I didn’t tell you, you wouldn’t even know I was there…
glasses: Ray Ban, tank: American Apparel, skirt: Zara, bag: vintage Dooney & Bourke, bracelets: Alex and Ani, sandals: Enzo Angiolini