#Obsessed or All I want is Everything.


It’s Friday, I’m already in sweatpants, I can finally eat foods that aren’t plain pasta and saltines without wanting to die and  I find myself obsessed with a few things I’d like to share with you as I make my way back to the real world. 

Now, maybe some of my obsessions this week are a little more unusual than others. But darlings, it called staying alive.

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As someone who has been to the ER twice in the past two weeks for general stomach distress, I can tell you that my two new favourite things in life are Saltines and Saline. I know I talk about this new found love for Saline last week, but I can’t stress enough how much I enjoy being rehydrated without having to do any work. For the past two weeks, it’s been hard to keep much down, including beverages – so this has been a necessity for me. BUT if it were up to me, I would have an IV drip come to me every Sunday morning.

In a perfect world, I would be wearing the charcoal grey cotton cashmere jumpsuit (that I have made millions on by selling to hospitals across the globe), reading The Sunday Times (in reality, we can’t get anything delivered to our house because it will get stolen, so I’d probably be watching reruns of Vanderpump Rules), eating segments of a blood orange (and an almond Croissant from Tartine), drinking an espresso (from the Nespresso machine I keep threatening to purchase), and wearing my Healing Benonite clay mask (that feels like it is actually sucking the dirt out of my face) while sitting with an IV in my arm keeping me hydrated and happy and ready to decide what to do with my life.


What I wouldn’t be doing is eating Saltines, because while I’m obsessed that they got me through this period of not being able to eat anything else, I’m not interested in really eating them again until I get another stomach bug, which I hope isn’t for another 7-10 years.


One of the joys of being sick is getting to catch up on all of the television you’ve missed out on. I finally took the bait and started “Schitt’s Creek” and all I can say is that I’m not just impressed, I’m obsessed. To be honest, anything with Catherine O’Hara is a blessing unto us all and the idea that this is a defining moment in her career should put you in state of shock that makes you run to the TV and start watching this show. Although I am completely in awe of her wardrobe in the show – think Delia Deetz in Beetlejuice meets 2019 fashun.

The nuanced ‘gets’ of the writers and cast are what make this show so incredible. It’s a nonstop joy ride for every judgey person out there, who has no problem telling you your blouse is garbage or your point of view is incorrect. It’s a show that celebrates a bitchy face in all forms, resting and otherwise. It’s also low key the best fashion on TV. 

Real talk, it’s a show that talks about wigs, sexuality, nontraditional relationship dynamics and not being able to ride a bike in normal context, and of course for all of this, I’m here for it. You can find it on demand on Xfinity and on Netflix. 

Something I’m trying to do as an “adult” is focus my wardrobe. Look, darlings, I’m not interested in every piece of clothing bringing me joy, because that’s ridiculous. What I am interested in is every piece of clothing being something I want to wear. This oversized tunic from Free People is honestly one of my favorite pieces of clothing I’ve ever owned. It goes with everything and it looks chic AF even though it’s basically a mens XXL sweatshirt. When I wear it with workout leggings and black slip ons, le hubs says I look “very European.” Obviously anything I can wear with workout leggings and still look European in is a real gift.  AND it’s supposedly dry clean only, but come on, you can totally wash it inside out and air dry it at your own goddamn house. Oh also it makes me feel like Ann Margaret in “Bye Bye Birdie.” What a blessing.


You know what else is v European? No makeup. Obviously I can’t get behind that because no matter how many incredibly skin changing $200 facials I get (GO NOW, ASK FOR KELLY, NEVER LOOK BACK), nobody needs to see my slow descent into sun spots and large pores. But most days it’s minimal, if only because I’m lazy. Concealer, a smear of red lipstick and mascara usually fits the bill. But I’ve never found a weekday mascara truly worthy of a love affair until I met Lash Slick. She goes on inky and has the perfect amount of lift. She doesn’t flake or run or annoy my contacts. She’s beautiful in her millennial pink packaging and makes me feel like someone who can drink two glasses of wine on a weeknight and then go home and be productive (does that unicorn exist?)

But nothing is quite as faux European as listening to Charlotte Gainsbourg in your earpods while walking through the square and quietly embracing your superiority in musical taste, hoping someone will ask you directions so you can take one earpod out, the volume just loud enough for the tourist to hear and think to themselves, “Wow this is one hip lady.” But of course that’s not why I listen to Charlotte Gainsbourg, I listen to Charlotte Gainsbourg because her music is dangerous, dramatic and elegant at the same time and most days that’s what I aspire to. Her newest EP comes complete with a cover of the only Kanye track I get behind (and maybe that’s only because it’s video is full of ballerinas) and four other tracks that make me walk with my head higher, my shoulders stronger and a real desire to be her best friend. You should listen to Take Two Now. Because I said so.

And let’s be honest, darlings, when I’m on the otherside of this TEN DAY SECOND COURSE OF ANXIETY AND TENDONITIS INDUCING ANTIBIOTICS, (I’m really un-interested in the whole state of western medicine right now unless it has to do with lip fillers or tattoo removal), I won’t be having two glasses of wine on a weeknight, I’ll be having 15 Mezcal Negronis. Mezcal Negronis are my new drink of choice because in addition to focusing my wadrobe, I’ve realized that I’m OK being basic once in a while. They say the thirties are the best decade. So if this is the best we can do, I’m going to drink my Mezcal Negronis at peace with my decision. There’s no need to make one at home, go have someone make one for you. You deserve it, darlings.

Ok, hope you’re just as obsessed as I am.




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