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Updated: 2014-10-03T01:08:40.208-04:00


See ya later, sucka...


i've moved...

wanna grow up?


le calme avant l'orage...


it's design week in new york, so i've been superbusy! aside from providing exposure to the preeminent designers of today, the whole point of design week is... parties. many, many parties. parties out the waz, if you will. and of course, i've come down with a killer allergy/cold combo. rad.

i've pumped myself full of drugs and the hope that i'll be in able to work through this in 24 hours because tomorrow begins my occupational obligation to party.

as part of our event, we'll be unveiling some fantastically whimsical pieces from studio job. three words to describe them: huge, glittery, disney.


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7 Lights!


go see Paul Chan's 7 Lights exhibit at the New Museum on Bowery before it closes... it's amay-may.




(image) i just introduced my coworkers to the whimsically sticky world of papabubble candies and now we have a little jar of delights in the office.

the lavender candies taste like flowers with chocolate inside.

the bergamot candies taste like tea with chocolate inside.

we have a little apothecary jar of passionfruit candies at home and guess what? they taste exactly like passionfruit.

if you have the supreme good fortune of living in one of the following cities, please do your soul (and belly) the favor of visiting one of their shops!

new york

oh mr. sun...


(image) this winter has been so long... i just really miss the sunshine.

long ago, in a time called last summer, spencer and i had the most glorious mini-vacay to the jersey shore that i hope to repeat this year when the weather finally decides to act appropriately. we stayed in a creepy b&b right on the beach and shared the establishment with a very large Hasidic family.
the town, Ocean Grove, is unbelievably clean and pure (imagine Hummelville from that episode of the Simpsons when Ned grows tired of the corruption of his hometown). and, much to our surprise/chagrin, it's a dry town (say what?!) so our weekend consisted of good, wholesome fun in the sun.
children/teenagers played innocent games of tag on the beach while their parents watched an outdoor screening of Endless Summer and strangers happily bid us "good day" as we strolled down the immaculate boardwalk that remained blissfully free of all vendors and riffraff.
despite the odd blend of blandness and creepiness (a giant church with a giant crucifix overlooked the beach and served as the town's centerpiece), i really miss the beach and can't wait for the sun to break on through...

new do, new you.


after months of talking the talk without putting the money where my mouth is, i finally booked an appointment to get the asymetrical mess that i call my hair chopped and shaped back into something presentable.i'd gotten an amazing cut last summer that i loved, but unfortunately, laziness and procrastination hindered me from keeping up with it. i had allowed myself to slip into the comfortable routine of wash-airdry-ponytail/headscarf.i was so ashamed.thankfully, i got my act together and headed back to arrojo where morgan, my little stylist angel, came to my rescue. i walked in on a rainy/humid friday night, sat in the chair, removed the arsenal of bobbypins keeping my coif from total meltdown and gave him the following instructions:"i desperately require symmetry to re-enter my daily life. i want it chic and sleek and i want serious bangs that begin from the tippy-top of my head."he hair is totally smooth and swingy (which is a small triumph for a woman of color who wishes her hair to be smooth and swingy) and i've actually had strangers stop me on the street, praising my new do!so for two weeks, i was feeling fierce: the fabulous blow-out and flatiron job i'd received at arrojo was lasting surprisingly well. things were still smooth and swingy and glorious. had a minor overdose of styling product one day, but a quick application of dry shampoo totally sorted that out. but soon, i realized that i needed to actually wash my hair with real shampoo and water. to say i was nervous about achieving a polished look befitting of such a polished haircut would be an understatement.i gave it a shot. and the results left a little something to be desired. so i decided to go on a quest to find the perfect blowout for my hair texture that wouldn't cost me a small fortune. my results are below:1. tried out a fancy salon/shop in brooklyn called Commune. the space is adorable and they were generally pretty nice. but then, the girl who did my hair just couldn't understand why i'd want someone to just blowdry and flatiron my hair without getting a haircut. i didn't find this request to be all that unusual, but apparently it is at Commune. she did a great job (prolly the best blowout i've gotten in nyc) using essential oils and leave-in conditioners in lieu of goop and serums, but she kept telling me my hair was damaged and that i should learn to blow dry it myself. i prefer my styling without a lecture, thankyouverymuch so i decided to never go here again.2. next i ventured into the heart of chinatown in search of the elusive $15 blow out. i found it at Top Ten Hair Salon on Pell St. but ladies of color be forewarned: the guy who did my hair was totally offensive and borderline racist (the first thing he said to me upon viewing my towel-dried hair was, "how am i going to blow dry this?"). he did an okay job (i ended up having to re-flat iron a few sections and use some of my own product when I got home), but the low price tag is not worth enduring his frowny face and snide comments for half an hour. now of course, i can't speak for all the hair salons in chinatown, but i'd definitely recommend NOT going to this one if you are anything other than Asian or caucasian. oy!3. the next place on my list is a salon run by sassy Dominicans... i think they'll know how to treat a sistah of ambiguous ethnicity better than all the rest. fingers crossed![...]



thanks to emily, i got a chance to go to a show for a pair of up-and-coming young designers during NY fashion week. Jordi Scott. their aesthetic is decidedly west coast and they opened up the shabang with a mini burlesque performance courtesy of some mildly famous East Village burlesque sisters whose name is escaping me at the mo...
anyway, fashion is a lot more fun to see than to read to about, so here's 9,000 words... metaphorically:

peanut butter puppy time!


i totally got a puppy...

the deets:
t'is a girl
her name's nina
she's 11 weeks old
part chihuahua, part magic

consider me enamored...
(image) (image)
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christmas time is heeeeerrreeee!


kelly, spencer, and i braved the wintry wind and gentle snowfall to check out all the fabulous windows on 5th avenue and they did not disappoint! we got a couple of hot chocolates from a streetcart and began working our way down 5th. bergdorf, saks, barneys, henri bendel... they were all amazing! behold...

cut and paste...


(image) i've had the most wonderful sunday so far...

woke up late and stuffed my face with warm apple pie and vanilla bean ice cream while watching back to back episodes of sex and the city on demand.

after that girlfest, i met up with my beloved sean for a semi-greasy, yet unbelievably delicious brunch at the newish cafe up the street. one bacon, egg and cheese sandwich and a couple of hours later, i finally decided to tackle one of my many DIY projects that's been waiting in the wings. a couple months ago i bought a truly heinous kitchen table at ikea that i abhor. it's pine and blocky and square; i hate it. so i figured i'd do something about it and decoupage my heart out.

so i headed over to my friendly neighborhood junk shop and sifted through about a million old magazines. popular science, popular mechanics, vogue, vanity fair, sheet music, and comics as far as the eye can see. briefly stopped to drool over an issue of Paper from 1995 with a pre-haggard thurston moore on the cover and a tiny article with my 8th grade mtv crush, squirt tv genius, jake fogelnest. a fellow rummager pointed out a hilarious headline from 1973 about how strip clubs provide lonely housewives with a much-needed sense of emotional fulfillment. finally narrowed my choices down to a handful and headed up to the sassy japanese guy enjoying a hoagie at the register. the total: $18.42. i had exactly 42 cents in my pocket. i felt the need to note this aloud and the guy at the counter responded in heavily accented english, "it's times like these that i find life is beautiful."

i walked home, smiling to myself.

out of touch...


i went out in the district tonight and recognized approximately 1% of the people i saw. to say that i am displeased by this observation would be a vast understatement.



(image) on tuesday, i was idly moseying down broadway when i came face to face with a native american man. he can best be described by the following overly flowery sentence... he had two long braids of shiny ebony, no shirt, no pants, purple ladies' bikini briefs, black reeboks, a pair of ray-bans and was carrying a whole foods bag. that's it. he was the nakedest person i've seen thus far on the streets of new york and nobody seemed to care but me.
this morning, i was yet again idly moseying down broadway when a cute girl with rockabilly flair whizzed right by me, with a huge smile on her face. she had black hair tied into two tiny ponytails. i smiled to myself thinking, my, what a cheery girl. but then i noticed a fairly glossy man with feathered hair and love in his eyes. he smiled a gigantic smile and it was at this point that i recognized who he was... willem dafoe. then he took off skipping after the cute rockabilly girl. yes... willem dafoe is in love.

as soon as i manage to set aside some time to update this ol' thing, i promise to extrapolate on the following:

  • a beach trip to jesus town
  • my first meat-packing
  • a long-lost londoner in the big apple (a tale of rooftop soirees, indulgent shopping excursions, japanese art porn and free booze as far as the eye can see)
  • the best girldate i've had in months

love is fickle...


i'm no longer in love and i've returned you to your maker.

make way for something younger, hotter and less intrusive...

i think i love you...


a few days ago i was faced with a most important decision; should i indulge in yet another pair of shoes? and if i do, should i play it practical and go with a more or less basic shoe that will work with 70% of my wardrobe or should i follow my heart/sense of the absurd and purchase the whimsical statement shoe?


i think i'm in love.

(image) (image) (image) (image)
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well-dressed, well-coiffed, well-connected...


a few months after the renovation of our showroom was finally complete, we had our opening party/ICFF party. in true Design Week fashion, it was dazzling and our new space was all abuzz with the social twitter of the well-dressed, the well-coiffed, and the well-connected.the party was an utter success, due mostly to the following:slightly attractive male model/waiters who supplied the schmoozers with tasty hors d'oeuvres served on flashy grouted boards of glass mosaic tilestasty hors d'oeuvrespeace biscuit!!! new wave/throwback DJ extraordinaire with a tiny voice and a huge personalitymy dress made a huge splash with the design-y sect. got lots o' compliments on my DVF - one fellow who was more than just a little reminiscent of that "i can't believe he's not a stud" fabio stopped me as i made me way from the dancefloor and demanded, "WHO does your dress?!" i responded in my flighty fashionista voice and he gasped a little, hand on chest, "ah! i LOVE diane." between glasses of prosecco and sweaty twirls on the dancefloor, i managed to take a few piccies of various work-related people and their dates. there were a slew of fancy italian ladies in fabulous italian fabrics, jewel tones, and fine tweeds in unnatural colors. spencer looked amazing in his new vest. tiya and aaron were both super festive/ new girllove, karen showed up with her fanciful friend and they danced the night away in adorable smock dresses and comically oversized spectacles. at a respectable hour, the party began to wind down and we decided to go to dinner. reservations for 25 at Butter. holla.indulged in a bit more booze, delicious sea bass and asparagus with shallots. tasty, tasty.a more than satisfactory monday night...[...]

lightstick's back... alright!


train to coney island. hot dogs. hippies/lightsticks/hipsters/2nd hand pot. dancing beefcake in tight red tank who totally looked like he belonged in a remake of saturday night fever. ran into college friends. amazing light show. robot helmets and seamless mash-ups.

long f-train ride home. standing up from coney island to park slope. possibly had a small world encounter with one half of that hipster dj duo i loved from pianos.

lessons learned:
daft punk shows are amazing
coney island is really far away
cowboy boots are not appropriate concert footwear.

on 11!


about a month ago, i turned 25. i went out. and now, a sufficient amount of time has finally passed, thus enabling me to view the following pictures without vomming...

bestill my beating middle school heart...


(image) thanks to the goodwill of our italian bossman, we've taken on an italian intern for the next couple of weeks. we all had different ideas about what to expect of this european gopher - i had images of sweaty brows, overstuffed cheeks, over-tight pants and a marked propensity toward procrastination and sloth.

after much deliberation, i soon forgot that he would be joining us in the showroom this summer and continued on my merry way.

this morning, i breezed into work just a few minutes late and upon entering the back office, came face to face with the modern incarnation of all my middle school crushes rolled into one attractive european package. he's 20 years old. he's tan. he has long, layered blonde hair like the california surfing boys of my pre-pubescent dreams.
the next two weeks are going to be awesome.

i'm in a band...


this is the dudeliest i've ever looked...

j'ai alle a montreal avec mon amour...


airportthe opposite of a warm reception. lots o' customs. suitcase checker lady hit on me just a tad. absolutely no one in the airport. ghost town, canada. rude, rude, rude. mysterious bus that took us to somewhere - didn't know exactly where it would drop us off, we just lucked out that it was only 1 metro stop from where we were staying. first day stayed in mont royal... hip/hippie young part of town. lots o' boutiques and even more cafes. stopped off at our hotel to check in and drop our bags off... sweetest brown girl with heavily accented english showed us our room. delicious brunch and kir royales. skipped in the rain. nap and disaster television involving gruesome plane crashes and burn victims. decadent dinner of various sausages and giant beers at a belgian rest-o-raunt a mere hop/skip/jump from our hotel. second day it was still raining. the hotel staff left a delicious breakfast for us outside our door, consisting of croissants, jams, orange juice, tea and fruit which we thoroughly enjoyed before venturing out into the gray, overcast city. headed downtown where we stumbled across a cirque de soleil tent. stopped off for a delicious lime tart and chocolate-drizzled almond croissant at sweets shop. window shopped in touristy old montreal. explored a labyrinthine underground maze of subway tunnels. took the train a few stops and disembarked in yet another young/hippie area. it was by this time that i'd determined that montreal is a great place if you're young, artistic, and financially unambitious. spent the afternoon wandering down narrow straights and in and out of vaguely french boutiques. stopped in at a fun-looking vintage shop on rue st-denis only to come face to face with my beloved duck duck dave's french canadian doppleganger. the likeness was uncanny, save for canadian dave's thick accent and love of fanciful chapeaus. while he was ringing us up, he told us a charming anecdote about how, while his english grammar is fine, he struggles with vocabulary every once in a while. apparently, he and his pals are making art porn photographs of vajayjay, and while discussing the project with a potential investor, he wanted to make it clear that it would be more art than porn. unfortunately, he couldn't quite think of the proper verbage and ended up proclaiming that the project would only involve "tasty vagina". thankfully the investor understood that dear canadian dave meant to refer to the ladyparts as "tasteful" and they all had a good chuckle. we parted ways with doppleganger dave since sunday shopping hours were quickly drawing to a close and i had yet to purchase anything spectacularly french canadian aside from a handful of expertly executed culinary triumphs. and then suddenly, a beautiful, striped dress caught my eye from across the busy thoroughfare. i felt compelled to enter this boutique, lustre and to sample their wares. everything was moderately boutique priced (low to mid $100s) which i thought was fair considering the level of craftsmanship and the whimsical nature of their prints. i tried on a few pretty things, but they were made to fit ladies with more endowments, until i came across the loveliest striped jumper dress in the most muted tones of eggplant and wine. it's jersey. it cupcakes out to just below my knees. i stood admiring my reflection in front of the mirror, commenting that the only thing that could make this garment more perfect was if it had... POCKETS! as soon as i uttered the word, my hands instinctively found two pockets at my hips, hidden w[...]

tiya's birthday, y'all!


a few weeks ago, my darling roommate turned the big 2-4. what with our living in new york city, away from our loyal stable of wild-n-crazy dc friends, we assembled a small, but worthy group of ny-based pals and hit the town. behold the photographic spoils of a fabulous, drunken excursion in honor of the day of birth of my beloved Tiya-dactyl...after gathering at our apartment, the evening was initially intended to begin at capone's in brooklyn, where we planned on enjoying some fine free-with-beer pizza. unfortunately, capone's was mysteriously closed. so we walked back homeward and decided to stop at that lovely beer/wine bar whose name repeatedly escapes me. alliepants told stories.the boys posed. after enjoying framboise and other fancy beers served in giant wine glasses, we all piled into a cab and headed to that subtle haven of below-houston hipsterosity, the lower east side. delicious food was obviously a priority, considering we were denied access to capone's pizza palace, so we made a quick stop at DASH for sliders and dogs. when we were sufficiently stuffed full of hamburger-y goodness, we all giggled and twirled our way over to 200 orchard where our long lost dc pal, coryface was spinning. he was one of my favorite nighttime friends back home, not only is he fun-sized, but he's hilarious and is no wallflower when it comes to cuttin proverbial rugs. but when we arrived at our destination, we were punched in the face by the knowledge that cory would not be making a musical appearance until very late in the evening and we must endure the musical stylings of no fewer than 2 other djs and a band before he would spin! so we all got another drink and took up residence in a corner booth next to a silent, creepy kid who spent the rest of the evening sitting in that exact same spot, drinkless and smile-less, only adjusting his position when the glass djs got up to perform. here's the rest of our night in piccie form: [...]

he totally went down...


so i've been taking a photo class at sva for the past few weeks and while i find aspects of the course occasionally irritating, i'm generally pleased by the overall outcome. i've begun thinking more technically about the science of photography (meaning i now have a slightly better understanding of aperture/shutter speed/ISO and how altering these settings can physically alter the appearance of a photograph). i also have a better idea of what kind of gear is best suited to what i like to shoot, which was one of my main goals in taking this class. and now that i've figured out what i want, spencer has had the lovely/thoughtful notion to get me a fancy new lens for my 25th birthday, which is looming on the not-so-distant horizon. aside from my foray into higher education, there have been a handful of other awesome occurrences in the recent past, which i fully intend to commit to the digisphere this week. i swear, i'm gonna sit myself down, with a pot of something highly caffeinated and maybe some candy and get cracking on turning the 8 or so drafts i have saved into real-life digital nuggets of autobiographical fluff. there have been birthday celebrations, musical happenings and celebrity sightings, the latest of which involved the following forgotten star...igby, a.k.a. kieran culkin. i totes saw him walking down 3rd avenue, near gramercy park on monday looking like nothing i would have expected. he was dumpy with a beer gut worthy of a 30-something midwestern truck driver. his face was a little sweaty and his hair hung in limp, stringy strands against his forehead. he swung a clear plastic bag containing a blimpie's sandwich as he trudged his way into the late afternoon sun. his main saving grace was that he did have lovely, sparkly blue eyes the same shade as his slightly dishevelled, oversized tee. [...]

adventures in afrocentrism...


i wasn't blessed with afro textured hair.
but i was blessed with curls, the ability to procure superior products, and an imagination...




every so often, thankfully not too often, i get into one of these moods. when everything is amplified and either really terrible or really awesome. currently, things are leaning toward the terrible. and i've had a lingering headache for the past 48 hours or so. despite blasting lo-fi fnk and secret mommy on a continuous loop, i just can't seem to shake it off this time. i'm hoping that by filling my free time with delightful distractions of the musical or cultural persuasion, i'll be able to diffuse this spell and return to full lauriebot awesomeitude. tonight was a good start.after a mid-afternoon meltdown and an emergency phone call to big mama, i pulled it together and spent the last hour and a half of work blatantly not doing any work. then it was off to barnes and noble for a book reading. thanks to my recent purchase of a grown-up choose your own adventure book, i've reignited my my love affair with the written word, especially that which deals with the frivolous and flighty as long as the prose is engaging and at least occasionally exuberant. this literary requirement is perfectly embodied by girls who like boys who like boys, a hodge podge of essays, anecdotes and love letters to that most sacred of relationships, that between the hetero woman and the gay fella. occasionally fluff, occasionally profound. i hadn't been to a reading in a super long time, but i thoroughly enjoyed myself. i adored the oversized, puffy sleeves of a white linen designer dress attached to a woman who looked a little too similar to SJP circa her sex and the city days. loved the grit and apparent sluttiness of a bearded park slope resident. and was utterly enraptured with an uber fancy boy and his tales of prepubescent musical theater appreciation.bought the book and stood in line to get it signed (yearbook style) by a handful of the contributors, half expecting someone to scribble "stay sweet! k.i.t.!" somewhere in the title page's margin. the cashier looked like this guy and told me that i had a great smile.gorgeous balmy evening. quick trip down to the east village for ben reynolds' show at cake shop. a little bit of a cool reception. delicious iced mocha. i'd never been there before, only walked by and was more than a little intrigued by the mix of bar, record shop and cupcakes. paid my $6 and headed down a long narrow stairwell painted a muted green. for some strange reason, i thought of heath ledger walking into that lady club in 10 things i hate about you. i liked that movie... don't judge. took a seat at the bar, drinking my mocha and enjoying my book. was amused by all the cool kids with fashion hair drinking red wine in fancy glasses. even more amused by the very fancy middle-aged people with leather satchels and ted baker beagle boots who sauntered in and ordered brooklyn lager. ben's band started playing, loudly, and apparently offended the delicate eardums of one of the fancy adults, who made a charming face and covered her ears. her dapper escort chugged both their beers and they headed for the exit.stood up front, still enjoying my mocha when someone tapped me on the shoulder. it was totally a friend of a friend, whose name i can never seem to remember, but she's a lovely girl nonetheless! small world to the max. giggled and gossiped for a short while before i got tired of schmoozing and began my trek back to brooklyn...[...]