Ride your vélo in those awesome heels, my lovely Parisienne. Rock your style.
I love this. Happy Wednesday.
After landing at Heathrow, my hostess and friend had already taken me to dinner, ice cream, a walk around Leicester Square (where I saw my love), and a bit of other sightseeing in between. Here on the Tube, finally headed to her home in Ipswich, was the face of gleeful jet-lagged sensory overload. Look at those eyes.
How I miss London.
Happy Friyay, y’all.
Last weekend, my friend and I headed up to NYC to catch a concert by Damien Escobar, a violinist I discovered a few months ago. It was a nice chance to get out of town, even for a quick weekend. Digressing: have I discussed my love/hate relationship with the city? It’s a fantastic place for the arts, for museums, for my beloved Broadway–but my goodness, what is that infernal odor that persists in the air? It’s been there since 1986, when we first met. Anyway, our embattled relationship goes on.
We took the bus up to the city and checked in at Staybridge Suites, a nice hotel in the Hell’s Kitchen area (so many contrasts in that last sentence, no?), which wasn’t too far from the venue. Prior to this show, you guys, I wrangled with what I wanted to wear. My summer concert wear is typically comfortable and easy. But something intriguing happens when you’re headed to the big city, something that requests that you up the chic factor and slay all day. At least it happened to me. Anyone else get that feeling of wanting to look extra when you’re headed out of town and away from all you know at home? I certainly did. I went back and forth and back again with what I wanted to wear. Finally, after a few hours of searching the racks at my tried-and-true Ross a few days before the trip, I decided to stop stressing and went the simple route: a nice, comfortable shirt-dress. Here it is.
As you can see, très simple and très comfortable. I completed the look with square hoops in my ears and those bangles on my wrist. Honestly, I wanted my hair (kinky twists, protective style #1,097 since February of this year) and my lips to be the showstoppers. (This is always the case, dear reader. I live for awesome hair and awesome lips.) And so I did the side-swept thing by pinning back one side of the hair and pushing most of the twists to the other side. Then I applied my bestie Ruby Woo until the redness was the right shade of fiyah. A bit of mascara, some light eye shadow, and we were ready to go.
We had a good time overall. I could have done without waiting in line forever just to get inside the Highline Ballroom, where the concert was held, when we were told that arriving early would prevent that from happening and that we would have seats. No seats were had. We stood for three hours. (If you could waiting in line from 5-ish to the end of the show around 10-ish, we stood for 5 hours or so. Insert highly irritated This Square Peg emoji here.) Nevertheless, barring sound issues and things of that nature, it was nice to hang out with my friend and hear some good music.
How was your weekend, my dear reader?
…bow before your benevolent mistress.
It was inevitable that I, a faithful lover of crêpes since my aunt introduced me to them when I was about six years old, would enjoy one of my favorite desserts in the country of its birth. I ate it in seconds, pausing only for one of my girls to snap this photo of me. (Can we talk about her marvelous photo, by the way? Capturing that lovely Eiffel and the breathtaking moon all in one fell swoop? I still hold my breath when I look at this picture.)
A few things:
All right, that’s my cue to stop before I start penning sonnets.
Want to tell me everything about your favorite dessert? Make it good and yummy.
I think this Parisienne embodies my future life in the City of Lights. In every way you can think of.
Bursting with a thousand words, and I agree with every letter.
Happy Friday, and bon weekend, mes amis.
After my traveling whirlwind within the past few months (London and Germany and Paris, oh my…and Luxembourg, too), it’s certainly a popular question I get from friends and family: where to next? Below are some of the places on my list to visit hopefully sooner than later, depending on how things play out in the neat future. All images are courtesy of Pinterest, and there’s no real order of importance, being that I salivate and dream about these locales equally.
You guys, I’ve been dreaming about Havana, Cuba, for the longest. In fact, when I think of Havana, I frequently entertain an recurring image. I am being driven through the streets of Old Havana in the backseat of one of the classic cars shown above, clad in a flowery red dress with a matching flower in my fro. Next to me is an unknown gentleman dressed in an old-fashioned suit from the Desi Arnaz collection. We bow our heads and listen as breezy, intoxicating music roams about the atmosphere. Right?? Oh la la. Anyway, now that travel restrictions between the US and Cuba have significantly loosened, I’m hoping that I’ll see myself walking down those old streets soon. And definitely with a flower in my fro.
Oh, Santorini. I’ve mentioned this delectable (yes, it’s so lovely that it’s edible) Greek island before. (Here and here.) I simply want to go to there. Those shades of blue need to be mine. We can even get my unknown Mister out of that Desi suit and into some white linen. I need those views, that water, strolls to the marketplace. I’ll stop here before this drool resumes.
Amalfi Coast/Positano, Italy. Notably, a bunch of my good friends are perplexed that I haven’t yet made my way to Italy. I’ll be honest: when I was a teenager, Italy was everything after Paris. I wanted to see Rome, I wanted to see all the dark hair and olive skin, I wanted to at least pose next to a pink Vespa. And with my enduring love of A Room with a View, you’d think I would have hightailed it over there already. Alas, no. Why? Let me tell you: I lost my love for Italy. Don’t ask me how. One day, I kind of grew bored with the idea of Rome and Tuscany. But then Pinterest came along and pinners with their photos of Amalfi and Positano and my eyes grew wide again and…you get my drift. In love again. Sure, I want to see the big cities. But it’s these lovely areas, the Amalfi Coast and Positano, a village located on the coast, that really call out to me. See that car on the far right there? Just imagine my unknown Mister behind the wheel, me next to him as we slowly drive down the coast, a scarf and his arm around my shoulders, his linen suit replaced with a crisp white shirt and slacks…
Le sigh. Remove the unknown Mister and I still have definite plans to visit these places. And there are more, mind you. The Netherlands, Morocco, South Africa, Japan. We’ll get to them eventually. There’s no expiration date on wanderlust, is there?
Are you a traveler? Tell me where you’re headed next or where you’d love to go.
Look, a cup of tea fixes everything. It’s a scientific fact. (It’s not, but let’s just agree, shall we?) The best part of my day at the OK Corral is getting up from my desk and grabbing a cup of tea at the cafe we have here in the building. Sipping that warm, vanilla-tinged liquid (I prefer chai) does absolute wonders for me (including softening the perpetual frown I seem to wear when I’m in the building.) When a friend recently posted 15 surprising facts about tea, as shown here, I was reminded of just how much of a tea lover I am.
Formerly a coffee disciple since the age of 12, fond of lapping up the leftover bits of coffee my parents would slyly leave me in their cups, I officially switched to tea in 2008. That was the year I realized that the loud drumming I assumed was coming from my co-worker’s desk radio was actually my heartbeat, in reaction to the coffee I was drinking. Needless to say, that was the moment we said our goodbyes. (I still love the scent of coffee, though. Do I ever.) For me, tea is like coffee’s milder, gentler cousin. The dependable Darcy to that wild Wickham. (If you know me by now, you’re not surprised by this effort to use an Austen/Pride and Prejudice analogy.) Anyhow, and more importantly, despite the caffeine in tea, it’s not as intense and I can enjoy it without wondering if I will soon need a defibrillator.
Below are some photos of the afternoon tea (and scones) I enjoyed at Harrods department store during my trip to London in October. After a particularly tourist-y day, it was nice to simply sit and drink and sigh and chew and people-watch.
Now that we’ve sauntered down memory lane with our cups of tea in hand, tell me in the comments if you prefer tea and/or coffee. Or wine, if you’re about that life.
…we did a photo shoot in the City of Lights during our trip. One of my girls is developing a travel site and wanted some shots of the three of us gallivanting around the city. Here are three of my favorite shots (honestly, all of the photos are my favorite); I’ll share more as we merrily go along here on This Square Peg.
So here’s the thing:
It really was fun. As this Friday wears on and I find myself feeling slightly blue/down/not myself, it’s nice to reminisce and find a smile on my face as I recall that morning.
Have a lovely weekend, all.
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