It's a Mod World

June 7, 2011 erin

Sorry for the late and light posts, but I'm still feeling a bit jet laggy. I've decided to give myself a wild and crazy pep talk to help me power through the week with style (I also need a pep talk to help me power through my dirty laundry but that's another post). These pictures are telling me to go check out a Warhol exhibit, or maybe to grab a martini at the Highball. I think they are also telling me to ditch the rest of today's responsibilities and go swimming...

Well, they are definitely not telling me to do my MF laundry, but I am very adept at selective hearing. Later, dudes. Hope you manage to squeeze some good times into today!

[Florence Lopez, Urban Modernista, Met Home, Roger Davies, Jeffrey Campbell shoes, Mod Rockers]

I Want to Go to There

June 6, 2011 erin

My body is back from NY but my mind is still there. I had such an amazing time, but I slept very little and got in very late, and now I have scrambled egg brain. I'll be back later to regale you with tales of my exploits, but for now I just want to make sure that you've seen this:

Reader Corinna emailed to inform me that I was vacationing scant miles away from greatness. I really thought about hopping on the subway, showing up at Jessica's insane Brooklyn home, and demanding a tour, but sanity prevailed when I considered how I might feel if some random stalker freak popped up unannounced at my door... I'd pretty much just call the police.

Or stab the intruder with my amazing brutalist lamps.

Or perhaps I'd drown them in my incredible bathtub.

Or maybe just bludgeon them with my stunning onyx coffee table.

Perhaps my little trope is wearing thin, but I think you'll agree that I should have risked death to tour this place.

Next time, Jessica. Next time. I suggest you lock down the lucite record player before I come, though.

[JP Warren Interiors, Desire to Inspire]

f=ma

June 2, 2011 erin

When you have a toddler, the force required for a night away is roughly equal to the escape velocity needed to exit the earth's atmosphere. In other words, a baby free vacation is about as likely as flying to the moon. And yet, by the time you read this I will be on a plane en route to New York with a friend for a good old fashioned girl's weekend. Just typing those words makes me feel like I might pee on myself accidentally -- like a kid on Christmas -- because the excitement is TOO MUCH. But I'm also more than a little sad. I hope Ben remembers to feed Ike. And squeeze his chubby little legs for me. And smell his pretty hair.

Thankfully I don't really have time to worry too much about that, because I am busy packing and yelping and trying to figure out how to enjoy New York without looking like a total douchewad tourist.