Of Coffee Pots and Silk Pajamas

Do you ever see something and immediately conjure up an image of how your life would be if you owned it? That's how I felt this morning while browsing Moda Operandi (which I have a serious, mostly unrealized, obsession with) and coming across the House of Hackney wares for sale. As a tea party lover, I was immediately drawn to the teapots and cup and saucer sets, but after glimpsing the pajamas above, my heart's desire ultimately settled on the coffeepot, also pictured above. And then I daydreamed - padding around barefoot in my little silk camisole and shorts, making coffee and pouring it into the pot to take with me back to the couch where I read my newspaper and magazines and blogs and sip coffee out of oversized white teacups (I live alone in a sun-filled studio apartment in this daydream). I know that's the point of lifestyle brands, selling to you by appealing to your idea of what your life should or could be - I guess for me that's a studio apartment and matching my sleepwear to my dinnerware, using the Keurig on weekdays and my French press on weekends and having enough closet space to coexist peacefully with my wardrobe... - but there's something about it that's so useful. I know my life won't be vastly improved by buying a pretty coffeepot or some silk loungewear, but the escape of dreaming about that life does me a lot of good during a long workday. Still, I'm going to need to be convinced not to buy either (or both, together) of those items.

House of Hackney coffeepot and pajama set, both from modaoperandi.com

What's in my Bag: Minimal Edition

I'm falling prey to my old habits: beginning posts and letting my mind drift away to the point that it takes months for me to get a thought up. But I've found a solution - short posts to get me in the spirit, long posts when my heart is really in it. So here's today's short post - what's in my bag.

Even though it's done and done and, you guessed it, done again, I always seem to enjoy a brief glimpse into someone's bag. I'm usually a crazy hoarder in my bags - numerous metro cards, receipts, five lipsticks, a handful of bobby pins, a mess of used kleenex (it's allergy season, don't judge). But this week I switched to using a new bag, which led me to pare down the contents. An empty table at work beckoned to me and I spilled the contents and arranged them to fit in the frame.

The bag is a Rebecca Minkoff M.A.C (a lovely birthday gift from my bosses) and here's what's in it:

• The ID card that lets me into Conde Nast everyday
• A metro card, used mainly when it's raining
• Sunglasses from Forever 21, essential for my morning walk to work
• Dr. Hauschka lipstick in Pink Topaz
• My trusty iPod, necessary for my walks to and from work 
• Kleenex (see above)
• My keys and cards, featuring my out of date student ID

Not pictured: the iPhone I used to take this picture and the cardigan I stuffed in so I wouldn't freeze at work...and the other lipstick I just found while digging around in the bag (I knew I couldn't have just one on me).

So there it is, a short post, a snapshot of life, and hopefully a ticket to getting me back on track.

A Year and a Day

Bryant Park, one year ago

On Monday I turned 23 - Taylor Swift to Blink 182 style, though luckily it seems that my approval rating hasn't dropped yet. Monday was also my one year anniversary of being in New York. Instead of being dropped off at the train by two teary-eyed parents (to be fair, I wasn't exactly dry-eyed either) and then arriving to spend the next two weeks on the living room couch of some very gracious family friends, I spent my day at work and then drinking and dining (and drinking some more) with some of my closest friends in the city. I spent Saturday night surrounded by even more friends, celebrating the year past and the year to come.

Yesterday marked the one year anniversary of my job. It's hard to believe that in the past year or so I've graduated college, moved to New York City and started a job in the field I spent my four years of college preparing for. And now here I am, a year and a day in. A lot has changed in the past year but so much has stayed the same - the walls in my walk-in closet of a room have stayed bare but the number of shoes crammed in here with me has grown...significantly.

I think I've changed in the past year - having a job and paying rent will do that, as will late nights spent with friends in darkened bars and Sunday mornings spent in bed ordering from Seamless because moving is just too difficult. Every year on my birthday someone inevitably asks me if I feel different. And I didn't feel any different on Monday than I did on Sunday. But thinking back on the past year, I feel older than the person I was a year and a day ago when I walked into Conde Nast for my first day of my big-girl job. I'm older than the person I was sitting on the Amtrak train bound for New York from D.C., crying a little and silently reading the letter my mom slipped me before she and my dad kissed me goodbye. I'm older because of the experiences I've had and the people I've met - the early mornings and late nights and too much coffee or too much vodka and first dates and no, wait nevermind, maybe no second date after all.

 Fewer people ask if I'm a teenager now (though I was told, on Monday when heading down to the 21+ restaurant at which my friends and I ate that night, that I looked 18) and whether that's because my face shows age or my attitude does, I'm not sure - but it feels good to grow up.

I'm optimistic about 23. Even though I'm still not sure about how to navigate adult relationships and the walls of my teeny room are still bare and I'm still not exactly sure how to avoid those Sunday morning hangovers, I know there's a lot of good left to come.