Fashion Fades; Style is Eternal


Tuesday, November 3, 2015

All the Pretty Petals.

Some days I think it would be really cool to own a flower shop; surrounded by sweet fragrances, playing with pretty petals all day long. Being able to be immersed in a creative space, yet eagerly letting simplicity ease into a routine of things.

I would go to the shop looking like I got dressed out of an Anthropologie catalogue, stopping at the corner café along the way.

I'd start my day playing really easy going French music with a gentle beat in a major key and wind down with a little Brazilian jazz in the afternoons when my friends stopped by to say hi.

I would refuse to do weddings, but un-thoughtout elopements would be warmly welcomed.

I'd make a wild bouquet for your broken-up with best friend, complete with a bottle of booze, and I would confidently put together a masculine arrangement because men should receive fresh flowers too.

I would put thought into the little orders, because massive arrangements are nothing but overdone expectations.

I'd make "I've royally fucked up, but I love you" bouquets and arrange the perfect bundle of a secret admirer's subtle confession.

I would sit down with the uncertain you, make you a cup of lavender honey tea and listen to your story.

I'd personally make sure that she got the little card you scribbled "I need you" on, because I understand how utterly shitty it is to live out days of missing someone over miscommunication.

I would take care in getting the point across, even if the point was to be just in purple.

I'd close up my shop with loose ends of ribbon, and take home the left-over flowers.

I would be content in knowing that somewhere out there, my flowers had reached a shelf in someone's day.

Thursday, October 8, 2015 without You.

In my yoga classes, just as my students are slipping off into a long and well-deserved savasana, I always try to guide them into the care of being presently within themselves, while at the same time, allowing their mind to be free and wander.

This is the way I mentally direct myself in my own self-practice and call me a gypsy, but I love not have boundaries as I blissfully dive into the resonance of my own body and forget the rest of the least for a mere handful of minutes on my mat.

There is nothing more frustrating to me than a guided savasana setting up walls for my mind to be contained in, so I appreciate this mindful allowance of wanderlust.

Except of course, when lately, my default traveler of a mind has been presently contained in a singular box in my brain, artfully labeled with a capital-lettered, "You."

This box was supposed to be long forgotten, dusty, and tucked high on a shelf, unreachably far away. But, for some reason whenever I allow my mind to roam, it loves to reach in between the nooks and crannies of our memories and pull out a dagger of unexpected feeling.

I think of You all the time, you know, except, you don't really know at all. Because that's been the problem with us all along, we both cared at exactly the wrong times. What I wish the most, is to tell you I care and that I will keep caring until you come around. I won't forget you this time or abandon ship, I'm not scared anymore of what may come. I'm just not interested in any of it anymore, if you're not along for the ride.

To me, you are like an unopened present left under the tree well past Christmas Day, that I keep staring at as a little kid. I don't mind waiting, because I am certain that you're my counterpoint in this crazy world we live in. If only we get a real shot.

Please hurry up. It's so hard to be present in a world where I'm presently without you. 

Friday, October 2, 2015

Face First in a First World Problem.

Glass Animals - "Gooey"

It doesn't matter what I do (or don't do) the night before.

I wake up one of two ways:

1. It's still dark out, just shy of 6:00 am, I roll out of bed, throw on a pair of yoga pants with the shirt I slept in, bra optional. I grab my mat next to the nightstand, walk down the hall to the studio, connect my beats to the sound system, and start some sun salutations in the dark to "Gooey." After an hour on my mat, I'm feeling like a smoothie to go with the killer peanut butter vibes.


2. It's definitely not dark out, just shy of my 100th 'snooze' alarm, I stumble out of bed, trip over a pair of yoga pants tangled up on the floor, bra definitely not happening. I knock over my mat next to the nightstand, walk down the hall past the studio, connect the plug of the Nespresso maker, and start some sanity salutations in the kitchen to the caffeine gods. After a short espresso goes down the hatch, I'm feeling like a smoothie to go with the killer caffeinated vibes.

So yeah, cool, different story, same ending point.

Except for the fact that I'm faced with a major first world problem on the daily here in Morocco: a lack of smoothie essentials.

No ground flax, no almond milk, absolutely no raw vegan protein powder, and chia seeds are few and far between.

I seriously feel like Santiago in The Alchemist, trekking across the Sahara desert in search of my Personal Legend at the bottom of the blender in the morning.

I miss my 18 unpronounceable ingredient smoothies that I was able to whip up in 18 seconds flat.

Lately, I've been making the most foul concoctions ever. Last Monday, I threw together an orange, carrot, ginger smoothie and I ended up having to plug my nose and chew it like Bugs Bunny before actually swallowing it. In fact, now that I think about it, I think I still have some in the fridge to finish never. Barf.

It's not that produce is uncommon here - there's actually so much of it available it's overwhelming! Everything sold in the markets is organic and seasonal and perfectly ripe and ready to eat. Oh and cheap, so unbelievably cheap. 

But, all of the Western world's smoothie additives (which really take a blended up mush to the next level) are nonexistent! 

I've totally forgotten how to make a basic betch smoothie. It's a tragic, but true story.

I'm having to completely go back to square one and reteach myself how to make a simple smoothie. Produce, a base, and call it a day.

Luckily, here in Morocco there's an endless supply of almonds and dates...bee pollen too, randomly.

If you have any ideas for a simple blend, I'd love to become a success story.

Till then, unhappily blending,

Tuesday, September 29, 2015

Why Morocco? Inquiring Minds, Well, Inquiring.

Ed Sheeran - I See Fire (Kygo Remix)

The first thing I get asked by A. people from home wondering why I left, and B. people from Morocco wondering why I came, is "Why Morocco?" with the most confused tone of voice I've ever heard.

To answer the question truthfully, which I usually don't do to those inquiring, I don't even really know why I chose Morocco in the first place.

I have always been really drawn to Africa, but if we're being totally honest here, I had to google Morocco to find out where it was before knowing it was even apart of the African, that strikes that answer head on.

I guess I wanted to go to Morocco because it was super far away from home, without being an island completely detached from society...which I wasn't totally ready to handle. Looking back on it though, I'd be down for some island time pending an offering of a slick do-over.

And as far as Casablanca is concerned...well, it chose me.

It's not as romantic here as the movie portrays it to be, but there's this sense of understated vibrancy in the streets that I really truly love. A confused mix of old world, new world that has oddly captured me.

There are souks and spices and women wearing the most beautiful silk caftans I've ever seen. Ones that sell in boutiques in America for two thousand dollars are available at the Habous for 200 dirhams (roughly 20 euros or cheap tapas for two in Spain). Everyone gathers to enjoy couscous on Friday afternoon, prepared in a great big tajine for the entire table to eat from. I've made friends with the man I negotiated my first (and only) Moroccan carpet from, who invites me every Friday afternoon to his shop's terrace overlooking the old Medina. 

He teaches me the Arabic words of negotiation and the language of getting a good Moroccan deal. And in exchange, I remind him of his first love from almost half a century ago. Apparently she and I share the same grey eyes, Cancerian horoscope, and sarcastic remarks. He gave me a beautifully woven rug the other day with symbols of the zodiac sign as a thank you for bringing my London friends to his shop who were in search of some lanterns to bring home. He jokes and says that he will give me a good Moroccan husband for the next group of friends I bring along, but I do in fact question his seriousness and travel alone from now on, just to be safe. I'm holding out for an Italian husband at the moment, I politely say, and he just laughs for about 5 minutes straight. 

People spend hours of the day at street cafés drinking Moroccan tea or sipping on a nus-nus (half-half), served in a transparent small glass, you can see the layers of milk, strong pure Arabica espresso, and foam on top. The French cafés play the hippest music - think Daft Punk and Melody Gardot remixes, and Starbucks Franklin Roosevelt Villa isn't a quick "grab'n'go" - it's essentially a coffee compound, complete with a hipster espresso room and a vast patio terrace. I wander here by myself on Sunday mornings for a cappuccino the size of my face. Some American tendencies die hard, what can I say.

There are really cool open air lounges and high-rise bars with panoramic views if you want to go out, and just like Los Angeles, the nights to be seen fall mid-week, Wednesdays and Thursdays. Everyone wears black and Kygo's remix of Ed Sheeran's "I See Fire" plays just about every handful and a half of songs. The choice of beverage is chilled rosé and unlike so many big city belligerents, moderation is welcomely observed.

All and all, I'm liking Morocco, and even though I question my decision to come at times, I don't feel like my time here is up.

Friday, September 25, 2015

I’d Rather Talk Me, Shrink, For Real.

Jane Austen, novelist

So, I’ve decided to start writing again.

Except this time, not to gain more followers through robustly unfiltered posts and witty remarks punctuated here and there in my paragraphs like swearwords rolling around in a sailor’s mouth, but rather…because I quite miss the outlet of self expression – my head can only hold so many words before it feels the need to projectile vomit all over a cursor marker in Times New Roman pt. 12 font.

This time around, I’m not so interested in the newest patent Saint Laurent is stamping all over, nor do I give two and a half sh*ts about the drunk girl stamping around in it.

I’d rather talk me, shrink, for real. I’m quite literally begging for someone to ask me a question and not listen to my response. Please, ask me, “and how does that make you feel?” and politely keep your advise aside. 

So, that’s what I’ve decided to start writing again.

My long, drawn out answer to how this effing world is making me feel with the hopes that you, dear reader, are only listening with one eyeball and out the other.

Instead of going down a randomly numbered “How To” list that would drive OCD people headfirst into a straightjacket, I’d rather just type with the point aside and ditch the chicly found Google images.

Like, how about we stop talking about how un-cool and 2008 it was of you getting it on in the SOHO House bathroom and talk about the fact that it took me 2 years too long to finally get over my boring ex and not want to publicly trash him anymore. That it was actually his engagement to his ex-girlfriend (I know, right, sucker punch to the vag) that offered me a real sense of closure and assurance that everything in this wild world does in fact, happen for a damn good reason.

And who, by the way, even cares about whether or not to check your Louis Vuitton luggage. Checking bags at the airport is a pretty freaking subjective topic to me. I’d rather talk about the overweight fees I paid on the beast of a bag I checked moving to Morocco with only one very heavy suitcase. But please, let’s not bring up the fact that I should have listened to my dad and split my new simple life into two smaller (and much cheaper) suitcases.

Speaking of my dad, I miss him a lot being away from home. He’s no doubtedly my favorite person in the world and I haven’t spoken to him once since I’ve been here in Morocco. I know he’s gotten word through my mom, and I tell her to tell him hi all the time, but still. I think I’ve avoided talking to him because I know if I did, I would turn into a big baby and start crying my organic, plant-based (and very un-Chanel) mascara down my face and want to go home – and I don’t want to be homesick yet! 

This is a solo mission and I’ve still got some boxes to check.

So, yeah, I guess I’ve decided to start writing again.

Let the words begin...

Wednesday, May 6, 2015

Perfect Pants; Flynn Skye.

I have to say, I've really gotten quite good lately about just hitting delete to really amazing email offers that I've destructively put myself on the mailing list for. Like Spiritual Gangster and your 25% off every other day of the week plus brand new sale can spiritually suck it.

This morning though, as I was checking my work emails and shuffling through $10 dollars off if I spend $1,000 and all of my dignity or more enticements, I came across one that I couldn't not click on.

And it wasn't because I didn't have my coffee aka willpower and ability to function, I had a cashew milk latte in hand - what I call armed and ready.

One of my favorite boho brands Flynn Skye, designed in Venice, CA by the beautiful Amber Farr, is giving away a pair of Perfect Pants if you spend $250 or more. Super dope, I know.

And, if you know anything about Flynn Skye, you know how easy peasy it is to spend $250 in one quick swoop. Even amateurs to the hippie chic world of online shopping can do it.

Here's how...

By the way, one of the things that I absolutely love about Flynn Skye are all of the gorgeous prints. Every style comes in multiple, so don't say I didn't warn you if you end up with 5 different pieces of each style just because you absolutely had to have florals, pinstripes, and "morning latte" - just for the name, of course.

RE: Perfect Pants, you'll be prompted to select your size when you click "checkout" on the shopping cart's that easy! This promo ends May 10th, 2015 at 11:59 pm PST, so get on it today because the offer will only be rollin' out while supplies last.

Tuesday, May 5, 2015

Simple Superfood Soup for the Soul.

I absolutely love soup, but I'm disgustingly picky about where it comes from.

No cans, no soggy noodles or rice fillers, no unnecessary sodium, no preservatives, and hold the rest of the sh*tty ingredients...please and thank you.

Whole Foods was even getting lame for awhile because their freshly made soups without dairy or meat were limited and they kept running out of the overpriced raw soups in a bag in the refrigerated section - for what reason they were flying off the shelves I don't know, because the beet gazpacho sucked.

Anyway, fed up and clearly hangry, I decided to drag myself into the kitchen and make some awesome soup for myself.

I was delighted to find it A. super freaking easy, and B. ridiculously cheap.

But then again, anything was cheaper than the $11.99 8-oz pouch of raw vegetable guts.

I then experimented with thousands of soup recipes, I was seriously addicted to my new soup making hobby. I didn't even care that it was 80 degrees outside, I was effing stoked.

Don't worry, I'll share lots of them with you, but one of my favorites is a really simple yellow squash and avocado soup. It's (somewhat) satisfying and the flavor is super tasty. I tried out this recipe when I didn't have any onions or garlic in the house - flavor staples for a decent soup - and was surprised that it actually tasted incredible.

Oh, and it's incredibly balanced if you're into ayurveda.

Here's my simple superfood soup for the soul...

Yellow Squash and Avocado Soup

Yellow Squash and Avocado Soup


1 yellow squash
1 small zucchini
1 yellow pepper
1 avocado
2 cups vegetable stock
2 tbs raw hempseeds
A twist or two of ground Pink Himalayan salt 


1. Pour the vegetable stock into a pot on the stove and turn up the burner to a saucy medium heat.

2. While your stock enjoys a nice jacuzzi, chop up your squash and zucchini in large chunks with the (washed and organic) skin on. The chunks should be too thick to want to dip into a really yummy hummus, but smaller than an annoyingly big piece of awkward sushi. 

3. Chuck your chunks into the pot of stock and cover with a lid. Let it simmer and steam for only a couple of minutes while you half and pit an avocado. While you're at it, half and core your yellow pepper. Do not toss this into the pot unless you suck at following directions and already did. No one will notice, but the raw yellow pepper gives the soup a nice crunch and the raw enzymes don't hurt either.

4. Turn off the stove and get out your Vitamix or blender of choice. A food processor works too, but I honestly don't understand why anyone still uses those...they're such an effing pain to take apart and clean...but that's just me.

5. Carefully (sh*its still hot and steam loves to travel to the delicate skin of inner wrists) pour the contents of your pot into your blending appliance and throw in half of the avocado and half of the yellow pepper.

6. Blend it, baby. But, not too don't want actual baby food consistency. 

7. Pay attention to your soup when you take the lid off your blender, not because anything is alive and is going to go flying (hopefully), but because a super cool steam is going to transcend from your brew and it looks pretty rad.

8. Pour your soup into a bowl and top with some of the remaining avocado and yellow pepper - slice it into strips and get all artsy with it, this is the key step to making your simple soup sit pretty.

9. For added effect, and a little plant based protein, sprinkle some raw hempseeds on top. I also like a quick twist of ground Pink Himalayan salt for flavor.

10. Dig in while it's hot or refrigerate for a chilled summer soup.


This simple superfood soup recipe serves up enough for two souls...but you'll probably want a sandwich in an hour. Just saying.

Monday, February 9, 2015

The Best Damn Mat; Manduka.

The beauty of yoga is it can be practiced anywhere, anytime, and on anything.

I love doing yoga in a highly energetic heated studio space, on the beach with my toes in the sand, high up on a mountain top overlooking the world...

But, I also regularly get in my yoga resting in corpse pose early am in between aggressively hitting the snooze button, deep breathing mental chatter (okay, road rage...) away while stuck in traffic on the 5, and occasionally striking a dancer's pose in the produce section of Whole Foods while I wait for my veggies to be juiced.

Point being, your yoga is always with you. Rad, right?

If you happen to find yourself practicing yoga on a mat however, I'm going to tell you right now about the best damn mat. Story time, readers.

Manduka was founded by architect turned yogi, Peter Sterios, who in the late 90's, designed a black mat that completely revolutionized his yoga practice. On the simple idea that a better yoga mat could make a world of difference, and the combination of firm grip and complete support, Manduka mats and yoga accessories are crafted using simple, enduring, natural, and whenever possible, renewable materials and a fine attention to detail. Built by and for yoga teachers and their students, Manduka is authentically "for your practice and for our world."

Badass, I know.

Also, Manduka is committed to eco-responsibility and is super mindful of every decision made in the manufacturing process. They support fair labor practices and toxic-free emission facilities, and minimize impact on the environment by designing mats to last a lifetime with biodegradable rubber sustainably harvested from rubber trees with no toxic glues. Which, and I can't stress enough, is so incredibly huge.

Who wants to be practicing on a mat built from bad karma and toxins? I certainly don't.

Manduka pledges to protect and honor our earth and its beings. Namaste, homie.

P.S. Right now Manduka is having a super killer sweepstakes going on every day until March 6, 2015, where you have the opportunity to enter once a day to win a free eKO Mat a day. I'm convinced at least one of my readers is going to win, so enter away to win the best damn mat.


Wednesday, January 21, 2015

Blog Snagged; Nut Butter Truffles, I Dig.

So I recently chopped off my hair again. And when I say recently, I mean like a day ago. This time, my locks (or lack thereof) coming up higher on my neck than a lot of the guys I've dated with manbuns. Liberating, I know.

For some reason, having short hair allows me to think clearer, be more direct in my communications, and feel freer in my physical body. Sh*ts dope. Don't be terrified of shedding the initial energy trapped in your hair, it will grow back, Mother Nature's promise.

Speaking of directness, I woke up this morning wanting one specific thing for breakfast. Most specifically, a side to my black coffee. 

I woke up craving these orgasmic nut butter truffles I saw posted on the Free People Blog (a resource for everything great and more) the other day. They're 1. easy, 2. paleo, 3. vegan, 4. gluten free, and 5. totally indulgent. Right up anyones' alley.

I made the Sunflower-Cinnamon truffles this morning because I love cinnamon and I felt like sunflowers were a really beautiful way to start the morning, but next time I do this I think I'll attempt to make all three for an assortment and package extras up for loved ones.

Here's the breakdown...

1. Ya start with a base. That's right, a base, no treble. Cringe.

Base: 1/3 cup nut or seed butter (almond, cashew, sunflower, etc.) combined with 1/4 cup coconut butter. Mix butters in a bowl and microwave for about 15 seconds, stirring again after to make sure both butters are melted together in a lovely buttery marriage.

2. Toast your toppings (choose from below, #3 options).

Toast: Heat oven to 350 degrees and line a baking sheet with parchment paper. Spread nuts or coconut out on the parchment and toast for 5 to 10 minutes, shaking it up often so your crunch doesn't burn.

3. Now for the fun...three balls of lust to choose from.

Coco-Hazelnut: 1 tsp pure vanilla extract, 1-2 tbsp cacao or coco powder, 1/2 cup finely chopped toasted hazelnuts.

Combine vanilla and cacao with the nut butter blend and mix thoroughly. Place in the refrigerator and allow to cool until hardened. Remove the blend from the fridge and scoop out by the teaspoon, rolling each scoop quickly into a ball. These tend to melt easily with the warmth of your hands, so it's important to work fast. Roll each ball in toasted hazelnuts and refrigerate until ready to serve.

Coconut-Almond: 1 tsp pure almond extract, 1/4 cup almond silvers, 1/2 cup finely-shredded unsweetened toasted coconut.

Mix the almond extract and almond slivers together with the nut butter blend. Place in the refrigerator and allow to cool until hardened. Remove the mix from the fridge and scoop out by the teaspoon, rolling each scoop quickly into a ball. Roll each ball in the toasted coconut and refrigerate until ready to serve.

Sunflower-Cinnamon: 1 tsp pure vanilla extract, 1/2 tsp cinnamon, 1/2 cup unsalted sunflower seeds.

Mix the vanilla and cinnamon together with the nut butter blend. Place in the refrigerator and allow to cool until hardened. Remove the mix from the fridge and scoop out by the teaspoon, rolling each scoop quickly into a ball. Roll each ball in the sunflower seeds and refrigerate until ready to serve.

Sunday, January 11, 2015

I Tackle Weeds Just So The Moon Buggers Nibble; Rainy Sundays.

Alt-J - Left Hand Free (Lido Remix)

Those of you who know me, know that I walk to the beat of Alt-J's drum on a daily basis. This music resonates in my soul so much, I feel it from the tips of my toes all the way to my crown. I dig it.

On rainy days like today, I love to hunker up in my room in my fuzzy vegan muckluks with a cup of tea and purge my closet, paint, practice inversions, write some sweet poetry, cleanse my crystals, binge on pinterest, you know, the usu.

I pretty much ignore all life and inspire for the week ahead. It's blissful.

Here's to holing up with inspiration...

Moon metallic body paint. So cool.

A wedding dress I actually wouldn't hate to wear.

She's so rad. I want to be her friend.

Actually, I think I just dig the septum ring and the vamp lips.

Maybe just the septum ring? Yes/no?

Ok, I'll start faux. Just ordered these three from Etsy.

Fun sh*t.

Want to make this for my room using crystals.

Ya, right?


Double yum.

I wonder how all of the bearded men are going to look once beards go out of style and they all are forced to shave.

Eh. I think they'll be just fine.

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