Savage

A lost mind. Doodle by yours truly circa 2007.

The French are rad, and I am not the only Muggle who thinks so. Countless books have been penned analyzing the way the French cook, dress, and rear their children. Since the French approach is so revered, I've got to ask... how do the French consume croissants?

I down at least three buttery suckers per week in public... that said, it may be nice if I were to exhibit a sense of decorum.*

The blogosphere claims the majority of Parisians rip croissants into bite-sized pieces and then dunk 'em into espresso for easy, and I'm assuming, tasty consumption. But if you've got a nice croissant, the pastry is flakey. When torn, the crisp golden crumb trail get everywhere... and if then dunked, the pastry gets all soggy. This mode of consumption makes no sense to me...

Is it so wrong to bite into croissants WHOLE?!?
I like to amputate my croissant horns before hitting the chewy center "bod".
SAVAGE!!!

Yes, it's stuff like this that keeps me up at night.
I think I need help.

* I can be found consuming croissants the non-French way at Proof Bakery in Atwater Village. Their pastries are worth the calories.

Identity Crisis

Out of respect for other people's eyes, I actually put thought into what I put on in the morning. Like most people, I don't enjoy looking like poo. But my intentions are often lost in my execution, resulting in me leaving the house in kaftans, silk pajama pants, overalls and muumuus. The 30s are a confusing time for me - style-wise. I can't decide who I want to be, so I end up looking "Bohemian Lumberjack Waiter Gone Nautical." Hmm.

My father thinks everyone should adopt a uniform of navy and gray. I took this piece of advice back in college and was mistaken for a sales person while browsing goods at Barneys. My mother thinks one can never go wrong in a twinset. A lovely fashion tip if I were trying to blend in with the senior citizen set. And if the nugget could speak, she'd probably suggest a pink tutu.

As the old saying goes, it's what's on the inside that counts, but fact of the matter is, how I look on the outside affects how I feel on the inside. Lately, my insides have been feeling confused. And so, next week, my always-impeccably-dressed friend Sophie is coming over to help curate my closet over Thai take-out."* Every item that hasn't been worn in the past two years is being donated to Vietnam Veterans of America and Thredup no matter how beautiful the item looks on the rack or how much I remember paying for it. If it looks like shit on, it's gone.**

Clients of mine hire me to renovate and design their homes because I (supposedly) have acceptable taste and good judgment. I offer suggestions regarding what to salvage and what to demolish, and *gasp* they listen. They trust that I have a vision they don't, and their cooperation makes the final outcome that much better. Next Tuesday, I will trust Sophie and her vision. I just hope she doesn't toss my collection of East sider appropriate flannel and hole-covered jeans...

* Yes, I actually used the word "curate" as if to suggest my closet has items worth curating. I think I just "pulled a Paltrow" - as in Gwyneth Paltrow. Don't hate.
** Mantra for the remains of 2013.