I'm at this point where I'm searching for answers in all the wrong places at all the wrong times. I'm with out the worry, the words, and tthe too. It is a wicked, wicked trilogy.

If you need me? I'll be in secret foggy corner with the tip of my nose in a thick, chewy, ale doing my best to muster up some sort of answer to questions I can't quite articulate. That, and I'll be searching for a new black bag. Maybe a Minkoff from Clutch?

Since I was sixteen I've battled with Acne. And when I say battled, I mean full-on-no-holds-bar-war. Most of the time the acne won. And it wasn't until about 4 years ago, my acne had finally run its course. But until that time had come, acne controlled my self-esteem and weighed heavy on my social life. You never would've known it was such an emotional nuisance. But it kept me from all sorts of things like public swimming, the woman at every make up counter from Saks to Nordstrom, dates, photos, "let's get ready together" parties, and the kind of self esteem every girl should have by the age of twenty.

And, if you'd asked me what I think the cause of it was, my answer would change daily; "it's sleep, cigarettes, stress, beef, my birth control, fruit, my new cleanser, the rain." I wouldn't allow you to touch my face, ever. I even went as far as using diaper rash cream on a particularly bad outbreak. Bad skin is humiliating and humbling and causes and unwilling war against yourself.

It all sounds dramatic, but I promise, it's not. It's real.

I've always done my best to use natural products. But when battling with acne, you use what "they" say works.

Now one of my most favorite facial products, that won't make you feel guilty after purchasing is the Lush line of Fresh Facial Masks. You get a 3 month's supply for $5.95. It's the easiest way to pamper you skin.

my favorites are:

The Ayesha (for skin tightening and smooth out fine lines; rosemary, eliderflower and lime flower). Perfect for right before going out, a tiny little face lift.

BB Seaweed (calming, soothing, takes away redness, deep cleansing with aloe rose, and seaweed)

The Sacred Truth (packed full of antioxidants; wheat grass, papaya, and green tea)

You can't buy these online because they are fresh. But you can buy them from the LUSH store in Westlake Center (400 Pine Street; that place next to Pacific Place). The gals are helpful and sweet and all under 17 with nearly perfect skin. Maybe it's because they use their own products...

Let me let you tarts in on a little secret. I loathe shopping malls, department stores, and chain retailers (save Target and Club Monaco). I'd rather spend an entire weekend milling about a pocket of this city tracking down all the things I need (and want) one boutique at a time. But the reality is? I hardly have time to wash my underthings and get a manicure and take out my recycling. Therefore the easy-to-be-fashionable-and-moderately-financially-responsible places come in handy, every-once-in-a-while. And, since George W. Bush and Paul Allen took away most of our notable boutiques (and they still continue to wither away*), I have to pop into these places most of the time these days.

And since my Sweet, Southern Boyfriend is turing somewhere around his mid-thirties this Friday, and we'll be sipping strong, secret cocktails HERE, I need a new outfit, or at least a new something. I've been craving ruffles since early 2009 and since they've now trickled down to all the chain retailers, they are EVERYWHERE. YAY for me (and you, and you).

After a humiliating meeting with a MAC genius I popped by J-crew to see what all the bling glittering their windows was all about. And lo-and-behold, I fell right into a bag of soft and voluminous ruffles. Yumm.



J-Crew, Poplin Brynn Dress, J-Crew University Village



J-Crew, Kelsey Ruffle Top, J-Crew University Village



J-Crew, Merino Ethereal Ruffle, J-Crew University Village



J-Crew, Ribbon T, J-Crew University Village

By no means are any of these pieces unique, but it's the girl who makes the clothes not the clothes who makes the girl, right? Also, The University Village Store is packed, and I mean packed full of cute T-s to wear under just about anything. Also, more head bands than a speakeasy in 1922.


PS-I would like to note, I am not hater of big business, I do however, prefer to support the smaller businesses. After all, I buy my unders from Old Navy and have about 34 pairs of Nine West Shoes circa 2001. Preferences people, not requirements.

* My hope is for more brave and fashionable folks like Verdis to pop up here and there as our economy steps back into action.

The past four days I've had a spider webbed between my drivers side side mirror and the drivers side door. He's been camping out day and night (I assume) and it's not until I'm on the road, making my way to wherever I'm going at a cool 30MPH that I remember he's there. When I glance over he's usually balled up, hanging on for dear life, and cautiously making his way to the safest spot where the wind can't get to him. I contemplate stopping so he'll have a better chance of making it to where he needs to be. I cheer, directing him to move left or move right or to "hang on!", around corners. And, when I finally make it to where I'm going, he's settled, in the safest spot he can find. And we repeat the same thing on the way home, me forgetting he's there, and all.

In my neighborhood, there isn't much of what I like (besides real culture and real community) - except for a new really, truly, inspiring coffee shop. The kind of coffee shops you and I used to study at during college. The kind that has fledgling musicians strumming and humming in the evenings. Artists' photographs, paintings, and collages hung haphazardly. The kind of coffee shop that remembers your order, even if you only come in every-once-in-a-while.


SOHO COFFEE Company is just up the street from my house, and despite having fresh grounds and a french press at home, I brave the mean streets of the CD early morning. Because, it's the kind of coffee shop that deserves to be here, in the city where people come to visit the kind of coffee shops that don't exist anymore, except for Soho Coffee Company. It's the kind of Coffee Shop that, I hope, despite the sharp corners and growing trends of prim and proper (and snotty) coffee shops who sling cupcakes and hire unapproachable barista's, hangs on for more than just a few rides at 30MPH.

Sometimes, I think too much about the things I've had, that I've lost along the way to where I am. Like the botanical prints I purchased at a paperie in Athens the very first time I visited. They may or may not have been old and they may or may not have been worth much more than what I payed -but I loved them. And they sat, rolled up in the glove compartment of my car, for years. Until at some point, I'm sure I needed room for a pair of shoes or a parking ticket they were moved and forever gone. And, the vintage hat collection I spent most of my early collage years collecting from the Fremont market, yard sales, my father's closet, and tiny hole-in-the-wall shops up and down the west coast. The pair of nine west shoes I bought for half price that look just (and I mean Just) like the Tom Ford for Gucci (ankle wrap satin, square toe and all). My bird, CC Bloom, who I rescued from Lopez island, only to be handed off to my neighbors daughter, only to be eaten by her daschund Edward (It was out of total infatuation, she told me. Edward sulked over her grave for days after their fatal connection).

And, then, there are these things I find, that I can't imagine how they've stuck with me through 13 moves, 2 cars, numerous purse changes, and nearly 3 decades. Like a business card from a man in Vegas who does things that men in Vegas do. It, like nothing else I own, has been forever found for 5 years (I couldn't tell you where it is now. But at some point, I'll be moving again, and find it hidden behind or in or underneath something, somewhere). Like a ring I stole from my mothers dusty jewelry box when I was 15. It's a solid gold knot the size of a champagne grape from Neimen Marcus (when my parents shopped at Neimans). I've lost it so many times. And yet, it always finds it's way back to my pinky where it always fits (the only finger on my hand that hasn't grown since puberty). A nearly empty bottle of perfume that smells like Mexican Chocolate and cherries I bought at a store in Fremont before Fremont was a place to buy anything but vintage. The oil is long gone, but the bottle, covered in a satin bag that's stained from the leaky bottle, sticks around despite a few efforts to throw it out.

And all this losing and finding and losing and finding, sometimes, makes me want to just stand still, stick my arms out wide, spread my fingers and see what I catch as the wind rustles it by. But really, I know, I can't get from here to there to where I want to be without losing and finding, at least every-once-in-a-while.

I have some things to say about lost things, found things, and now things. I just need time to edit and post.

In the mean time. Pop by Club Monaco (600 Pine Street, 2nd floor Pacific Place) and find something with ruffles and dots. Sit at the bar here and taste a couple glasses of vino, rummage though a mountainous pile of parmesan, and let the gnocchi melt in your mouth. And then? Go home and hide behind these pages:

So, it seems these day's I'm not so good about doing what I said I'd do, except that falling in love thing. I've realized over the last few weeks that I'm a fairly simple girl - who requires simple things. I'd take chicken and dumplin's over Foie Gras; I like cold beer over complicated cocktails; I still firmly believe that less is more.

I've been running around this way and that way, not doing much of anything but working and watching 24 and drooling over the September Mags. I've been doing more gardening than shopping. More wine drinking and home cooking than fine dining. I Miss my BFF terribly and have pangs of loneliness that not much of anything but a quick visit to SF can heal.

If I had the gall to do what I'd really like to do (hunker down in an apartment right next to my BFF's and send morris code secrets through the radiator), I'd send for these:



Modern Vintage Women's Destiny Knee-High Flat Boot



J-Crew Wool Blazer


This Guy
The AMAZING vintage Steamer Trunk I scooped from a garage sale in my neighborhood.
The Hat collection at No Parking on Pike (Owner Billy Hutchinson will let you play dress up with his AMAZING vintage hats and even make some suggestions)



A case of Market Spice Tea


And, somehow, October has crept on us. Unlike years past, I'm hoping for this month to be lovely. Because, October, you promised that all that heart ache, worry, and stress would be buried somewhere deep in the middle of January when things like red wine and denim can heal them. I'm holding you to it (while keeping my fingers crossed).