A quick missive about a couple of new travel beauty bag essentials that are (I hope) ensuring that I look a little less bedraggled...tired...and jet-lagged...than I would otherwise appear. They're both "drugstore luxe"...more expensive than the majority of products they share shelf space with...yet less expensive than a number of department store options.
First up, Vichy's Aqualia AntiOx Anti-Fatigue Ice-Effect Eye Stick...which feels like it came out of the fridge, even when it has been dragged out of an 80 degree suitcase...reduces puffiness...and generally makes me feel like my eyes are wide open (as opposed to blearily semi-closed).
Travel essential number two...Neutrogena's Revitalizing Lip Balm in Petal Glow (the sort of dusky pink that is universally flattering)...designed to "instantly moisturize lips, leaving them looking fuller and more defined" and "improve lips' texture"...it also has an SPF of 20, thereby making me feel like I am doing something beneficial.
Two pros...fighting a plethora of travel-induced cons...
The next best thing to skull art...at least to my mind...is marginally disturbing clown art. At first, the mind is uncontrollably drawn towards thoughts of the paintings on velvet that you find at flea markets...more in-depth consideration leads one to the jaded, yet slightly bon vivant, traveler in Sean Landers' "Around the World Alone"...
I never thought I'd side with Mrs. Louis XVI on this one but...who needs birthday cake...when homemade birthday fudgsicles are resting in the freezer? Not I...home long enough to make (and consume a couple of) said fudgsicles before boarding another plane...
Recipe for "Happy Birthday to Me Icy-Fudgey-Slabs-of-Goodness"...
2x3 oz packages chocolate pudding mix (this recipe uses the kind of pudding mix that is cooked on the stove-top, not instant)
3 1/2 cups milk
1/4 cup granulated sugar
Combine ingredients in a saucepan and bring to a boil. Remove from stove and allow to cool for 15-20 minutes.
Pour mixture into plastic cups or popsicle molds (like the ones I got from Crate & Barrel) and freeze until solid.
Note: If the sugar is not added, the fudgsicles will have large ice crystals and won't be smooth.
Flight number one - finds yours truly seated next to a gentleman chewing clove gum...I think...whatever it was, it emanated from his mouth and reminded me of mothballs.
Flight number two - finds a slightly sleepier version of yours truly...seated next to a different gentleman...this example, emitting a lemon-y odor...cause unknown...could have been hand soap, moisturizer, or deodorant...but was infinitely preferable to bachelor #1.
Cab from airport - cab driver had bathed in the sort of overly pungent aftershave that suggests the wearer is trying (and failing) to mask one smell with another.
Even though I can wear (essentially) whatever I want for work I find the idea of a "uniform"...pieces that will easily slot together when I cram them into a suitcase...yet allow me to feel vaguely pulled together...a very alluring concept indeed.
The latest addition to my work wardrobe is this color-blocked sweater from Marni...men's, on sale at Mr. Porter...something that I am more than happy to steal from the boys...strangely colorful and subdued at one and the same time...
Oh God...I'm a bad little blogger...but duty (or should I say work) calls...and, for the next month, I'll be spending more time in hotels and airport lounges than my own bed. Which means...sporadic posting...incomprehensible musings on travel and cloud formations...and occasional outfit outings.
Bear with me...July should find me back on a much more even keel.
What, it has to be asked, would a week of nest-feathering posts be without the odd skull? The answer...a mere travesty (at least in my humble opinion). Which is why I'm adding this filigree porcelain money box to the mix...though, truth be told, it's much too beautiful to be crammed full of mere dimes and quarters...doomed to suffer a crack on the cranium.
Anyone fortunate enough to have gone strawberry picking will have probably come away with three valuable lessons...
A strawberry...straight from the plant to your mouth...is infinitely more flavorful than one found in any supermarket
The amount of back-breaking bending that is needed to pick even the most meager amount of berries is truly depressing (and rather painful)
The cardboard containers which house your fruit are practical...pleasingly functional...yet destined to be stained by berry juice and thrown in the trash as soon as you get home
The first two lessons cannot be amended...freshly picked fruit will always be the most delicious...and an hour or two of toe-touching will generally cause anguish...lesson three, however, can be circumvented if one uses china farmer's baskets. Impractical in the field, perhaps...yet infinitely pleasing in the kitchen.
"There’s certainly too much pepper in that soup!" Alice said to herself, as well as she could for sneezing.
There was certainly too much of it in the air. Even the Duchess sneezed occasionally; and as for the baby, it was sneezing and howling alternately without a moment’s pause. The only two creatures in the kitchen, that did not sneeze, were the cook, and a large cat, which was lying on the hearth and grinning from ear to ear.
The colder months, at least in my tiny little mind, are the time when one settles down for a little nest feathering...contemplating the delights of cushion cover A...the aroma of candle B...or the slumber inducing qualities of cashmere throw C (aka, the creature comfort computations). Perversely, this year, my body clock is running fast...and I find myself alternately longing for the air conditioner and trips to look at household fripperies.
Cue interior decor porn...and proof that even the smallest space can be a home (as opposed to a austere "space"). A "house"...in Paris...whose footprint is a hard to believe 19' wide by 6.5' deep (insert chat swinging joke here). An article on the house...its inhabitor/designer...and more photographs...can be found here...
When it comes to sale shopping my purchases tend to fall into one of two categories...the entirely luck-based..."oh, my God...I never knew this existed...but now I have to have it in my life...and...it's on sale!"...to what I'm going to label "To the batmobile, Robin!". Category number two is generally something that I spotted at full price...fell in love with...admitted to myself, with regret, was over-priced (or, worth it, but just too darned expensive)...and then proceeded to monitor its progress with the same beady eye that Batman would have given The Joker if he ran into him at the pub.
Case in point, this very restrained (yet summer-y) little tote...hemp, leather, linen...beautiful, vaguely practical, yet too damned expensive. Until, that is, summer sale met gift card...and then...in the words of the mighty Bat..."Bam! Kapow!"
In the summer of my dreams™...a carefree place...where it's possible to cycle in a skirt without flashing the local populace...remain sweat, I mean perspiration, free on even the hottest days...and take your time over an ice cream cone, undisturbed by paranoia over where its drippy residue will end up...the most perfect days usually include a lavish little picnic, packed into a "proper" wicker basket.
Then reality...and reminiscences...intrude. The picnics of my teens...at which my mother felt that outdoor dining could not be fully enjoyed unless most of the kitchen and dining room had been crammed into a suitcase-sized basket...and lugged half way across a field by her off-spring (i.e., yours truly). Try as I might to enjoy the fireworks...classical music...or jugglers...that were at the end of such rambles it was difficult to remain aloof to the fact that the *$%*@# basket had to be carried back to the car at the end of it (lightened by food, it's true, but still containing enough pointless impedimenta to tax the muscles).
Perhaps a better idea would be to pay homage to the concept of the SomD™...by dint of the indoor picnic. Air conditioning...easy access to fridge and pantry for chilled white wine or the odds and sods that invariably get left behind when one ventures into the wilderness...an homage to the pic-k-er-nic basket courtesy of wicker lampshades...heck, if I had a bigger apartment I'd be tempted to try indoor cycling.
Not much to add really...except that this beef jerky 2.55 is not a follow up to last year's yeti boots (though it would be rather fitting) and is, instead, the work of design student Nancy Wu. If you nab one it's probably best to accessorize with the aforementioned yeti ensemble...and a dab of Chanel Number (K)9 behind each ear...
I realize that I say this every year but...bear with me (and join in the chorus if you so desire)..."how, oh how, do we go from approximately one evening of spring to 90 degrees and high humidity?"...it's like mother nature enjoys a good practical joke...and I'm her chosen victim.
Time to consider...as I invariably do...before abruptly dismissing them...shorts. This year...the denim bermuda (minus the rather off-putting cork platform). Will this, I ask myself as I continue to curse M.N. under my breath, be the year that I actually succumb to the short pant?
Yet another travel-ish post I'm afraid...but (if this is any assistance in the rationalization process) it is Memorial Day weekend...a time when those foolhardy enough to leave the house are destined to be stuck in traffic or an airport at some point...so mentioning something cute and luggage-y isn't entirely off-topic.
Even better...when the C.L. item in question is designed for children...and therefore much less expensive than the adult version would be. The stars bring to mind Swedish label, Rika...the "train case" shape, a time in the distant past when it was possible to travel with some level of elegance and not have to remove your shoes every five seconds or carry your toiletries in a Ziploc bag...
Continuing upon this week’s travel theme...I usually find myself impervious to the charms of the airport store (unless they’re supplying me with the necessities of life on the road...i.e., water, gum, or magazines). I've never been able to decide who needs an emergency tie-dye wife-beater emblazoned with "New Jersey"...or a bottle of regionally explosive hot sauce that is guaranteed to detonate in your suitcase at 30,000 feet...but, rushing to my gate at Providence airport (after a delay and a couple of (entirely therapeutic) margaritas), I noticed the following...
Now...lobsters are...my childhood pets...my favorite crustacean...and what I will order from even the most land-locked menu. Ergo, even if it meant boarding the plane a little late and having to check my carry on luggage, the bag was a necessity. Heck, at $1.99, it was almost an insult not to buy it.
I'm not quite sure why I'm so fascinated by photographs that I take...looking out of plane windows...at 30,000 feet...perhaps it's the millions of people, whose lives (or airspace) I enter for a brief second...mid-flight boredom...or the sheer, ever-changing, beauty that can be created when the perfect mix of cloud, sun, and earth come into frame...
This is by way of being an "oops...sorry" post...for, traveling for work with no time to blog-check, it wasn't until I got home that I discovered that Blogger had failed to live up to its end of the bargain and publish what I'd pre-written for my absence...
How long will it take for me to realize that I am the living embodiment of "never say never"? Probably a lifetime...who knows, I may even be buried claiming that "I always wanted a coffin but, what the hell, go ahead and cremate me".
For, fresh on the heels of questioning why anyone would fork over their cash...months in advance of the anticipated delivery date...and with a less-than-customer-friendly return policy...on something from Moda Operandi's website...I found myself handing over my credit card information for a sweater (egads...a sweater?...right at the beginning of summer...and in full knowledge of the mountain of woolens already gaining dangerous heights in my closet). Not just any sweater, it's true...a distressed Fair Isle from Edun's Fall/Winter collection...classic...yet destroyed...always a dangerously alluring combination in my eyes.
Now I just have to wait until August to get my sticky little hands on it...
The photographs do not belong to me (except the ones I personally shot.) All photos are only used by commenting purposes and none are used for commercial reasons.
The avatar image used for this blog was taken by Ryan Robinson.
