I can’t shop for the next 284 days, but that doesn’t mean you can’t! One of my absolute favorite places to buy pretty frocks, ASOS, is currently having a 20% off dresses sale, so I spent last night combing through all 35 pages of marked-down styles so you don’t have to. Mark my words: now is the time to stock up on dresses you’ll need for the vacations and weddings that are sure to populate your calendar come summer.
Jacket: old, similar here and here // Dress: old, similar here and here // Shoes: old, similar here // Earrings: really old, similar here // Lipstick: Sephora in Always Red// Bag: old, similar here // Sunglasses: Karen Walker
“A woman who cuts her hair is about to change her life.” – Coco Chanel.
Similarly, a woman who parts her hair differently is about to change her day. Now, don’t get me wrong—my signature side part isn’t going anywhere, but sometimes it’s good to mix things up a bit. A low chignon with loose, face-framing wisps made this outfit composed of lots of old favorites feel fresh and compelling again.
I don’t really care for Guinness and I think Jameson is gross, so every year on St. Patrick’s Day I struggle to find something festive and delicious to drink. Enter the pousse-café. Basically a fancy name for a layered cocktail, the pousse-café began as an elegant digestif, one that could be savored layer by layer after a long, filling meal.
As long as you know the specific gravity of your liquids (heaviest goes on the bottom), you can stack them to your heart’s content, which is exactly what I did with this St. Patrick’s Day pousse-café. Vanilla vodka yields to Irish cream and a layer of vibrant créme de menthe provides the final flavor, leaving a lingering freshness on your palate.
• green crème de menthe
• Baileys Irish Cream
• vanilla vodka, I used Stoli Vanil
1. Gather your ingredients. I used 1.5 oz of each liquor, but you can adjust depending on the size of your glass or how thick you’d like the striations to be. You’ll need to use relatively small, narrow glasses to achieve this affect without using a ton of booze.
2. Pour the crème de menthe into the bottom of your glass.
3. Take a bar spoon (or a regular spoon if you don’t have one), flip it upside down and place it up against the inside of the glass. Very slowly, pour the Baileys onto the back of the spoon, so it runs softly down the side of the glass and onto the crème de menthe without disturbing the surface tension.
4. Rinse the spoon then repeat with the vodka.
This post may as well be titled, “What I’ve learned, sartorially speaking, from living in Seattle for the past four months.” True to its reputation, Seattle is a city plagued by sprinkles, storms and everything in between, a fact which has seriously hindered my habit of wearing suede shoes. The good news is, aside from the obvious waterproof-all-your-leather advice, I’ve developed five clever ways to cope with the perpetual precipitation in style, and I’m sharing them here now. Stay dry, my friends!
Here’s the thing: I think celery is totally gross. I tolerate it only in soups, when the flavor has been so completely leached out of it that it becomes basically tasteless. And even then, I purposefully avoid the pieces of celery left at the bottom of the bowl as I’m slurping up the last bit of broth. This distaste for celery, especially in its raw form, means that traditional ants on a log are completely off the table for me (and let’s not even get into my distaste for raisins).