cait +tiff


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C /

no phone

I am guilty of sleeping with my phone. I used to plug it in next to my bed, and the second I woke up in the morning, before I got up or had coffee, my phone was in my face, reading news, fake news, and watching videos of baby elephants chasing birds.

A few months ago, I stopped bringing my phone into the bedroom, and occupied myself in other activities before going to sleep. Reading, watching Clueless for the 145th time, and actually engaging with other people, actually make solid replacements for refreshing Instagram and finding out how Busy Phillip’s workout was. (For the record, I still care about that, I just watch her stories in the daytime.)

I am trying to fill up my life with non-screen related things these days. I work remotely, by myself, often from coffee shops or home, so I can’t avoid them all the time. But, because I’m in LA, there is rarely an excuse for me to be inside when I am not working. People are outside all the time, because it’s always gorgeous and everything here is just like the movies. I’m serious, it’s sunny all the time, there are constantly film crews on my street, and I fall in love like 9 times a day. It’s usually with other people’s dogs, but same same.

I am going to Malibu this weekend with a friend, have plans for hiking, eating all the seafood in California, and beaching myself. I hope you have a wonderful weekend and maybe even forget your phone.

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C / Straight/Curve

straightcurvy

I am so happy right now. I just found out about this new documentary, Straight/Curve, which is about the crazyballs issues of image and weight in the fashion industry. The trailer looks great, and I am hoping it lives up to what I think something like this can do.

I know it’s not a catch all, and talking about the problem is a really good start. There are so many insanely messed up issues with body image in media, and my ranting about it will not add anything new to the conversation at the moment, so watch the trailer, see the movie, and think about these things. They matter, and it’s up to designers, stylists, photographers, and whoever else in the industry to make choices that reflect actual women, and not make women feel like garbage.

Image via Straight/Curve movie


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C / Make Bad Art

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Last week, I started painting. I haven’t painted in a long time, not since fashion school a few years ago, and it was fun to get paint all over myself and spend the afternoon creating things. I now feel the intense need to invest in overalls. (Okay, more overalls.)

I remember painting with my grandma in Wisconsin, when I was probably 12. She was a wonderful painter, mostly did landscape stuff, and would work only with watercolors. I wanted to learn how to do it, so she set up a little table for me next to hers, and showed me how to paint a birch tree.

I didn’t want to paint a birch tree, I had absolutely no interest in a birch tree. I wanted to paint something big and exciting and I wanted it to be easy and I wanted to be the best at it. (I was not the most reasonable child.) But she was in charge, as she always was, and we were going to paint a goddamn birch tree.

So we painted trees, mine was crap and hers was lovely and elegant. I decided that painting wasn’t going to be my thing, because I wasn’t good at it, and I didn’t take an art class again until I was 32. (Note: this sounds like my grandmother turned me off from art, and it was certainly not that, it was my own weird perfectionism and impatience that did that.)

Anyway, I ended up painting three days in a row last week, and it was nice. I like physically doing it, mixing and messing around with colors and somehow always getting it in my hair, which just makes no sense at all. The stuff I make is BAD, it is not good, it is not pretty, it’s not even interesting, and it doesn’t mean anything. I mean, I painted my jeans on Saturday, and they we lopsided. I painted something that sort of looked like bamboo, but if bamboo feel into a motel art competition in the early 80’s. The best thing I did all week was when I wet an entire page of water color paper with water and dripped color onto with no creative direction at all.

The freeing thing about it, is that I am not trying to get better at it. I like doing it, and I feel like I rarely get to just do something without the intention of improving, and somehow winning at that thing. This might be an American thing, we are always trying to be the best at stuff and unproductive time is seen as wasted. But I am slowly starting to see the benefits of doing something poorly, like making bad art.

So here are photos of my non-precious, total garbage paintings. I will probably recycle them, because they will contribute more to the world that way, which is fine with me.

all the bad art.jpg

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C / Landline

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Image via The Hollywood Reporter

I have been trying to bring back the phone call for the past two years. I am one of about 6 people who still prefer talking on the phone over texting, but there is something about actual human communication that I am into. My push to get people to talk to me, is often not welcome, and it’s honestly not working that well. My friend Nitika told me the other day that she “hasn’t made a phone call to someone since 1993.” Whatever, I am holding onto this.

This morning, I saw the trailer for Landline, a new movie with Jenny Slate. It’s set in the 90’s and its sort of a romcom-looking thing, but with Jenny Slate, so it’s clearly going to be amazing. This has to be a sign, a sign that I am right about the proper form of phone communication, and I feel like I am about to be vindicated by a movie set in the time of non-ironic scrunchies.

Call your friends, they will hate it.

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C / boundaries

pink

I struggle setting boundaries. I think it’s attached to being a pleaser, I have a terrible time thinking that I am letting people down or disappointing them in any way, and it hasn’t done me any favors.

I saw this Brené Brown video last week, and it stuck with me. There is a part in it where she explains how some people don’t set any boundaries, get taken advantage of, feel violated, don’t do anything about it, and then become angry and resentful. While watching this, I was unconsciously shaking my head “yes.” I feel like that might be a problem.

I am currently taking classes in self-compassion meditation. I pay a wonderful woman named Heather to help me be less of an asshole to myself, and boundaries come up in class a lot. Brené can clearly tell you why they are so important better than I can, and it’s worth the 5:54 minutes.

Will this ever be a fashion blog again? Who knows. Happy Friday.

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C / Malibu on a Wednesday

becca beach

I had never been to Malibu before last Wednesday. My impressions of the place have, up to this point, been footage from Point Break, transitional scenes from The Hills, and that new Miley Cyrus song that I can’t figure out if I like. In my head, it is fancy, expensive, and full of plastic people. Turns out, all of that is true, but there is more.

As a pre-birthday celebration (I really dragged it out this year) my lovely and amazing friend, Becca, offered to take me to Malibu for the day. Due to my current status of semi-employment, a weekday field trip worked out nicely.

Becca picked me up at 7:30am from Echo Park and we got to Malibu around 9am. It turns out LA is really big and there is traffic, surprised nobody ever talks about it.

The Hike

We went to an area called Solstice Canyon, and the hike itself took about 2 hours and about 3.5 miles. There are a few trails in that particular canyon, and we took the one called something like sunset trail, sky view trail, eagle view something, ocean mist, eastern block… I don’t know the name of the trail. There are signs, you’ll be ok. The trail is gorgeous, with amazing views of the mountains, the ocean, and the wildflowers that are currently blowing everyone’s mind. Also fun, we only saw five people and two dogs the whole time we were there.

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The Food

Neptune’s Net! This place goes immediately into my LA hall of fame. I love it here, I love it so much I could marry it. It’s a seafood spot with few other options, and there are two counters to go to, one for the fresh stuff, and one for the perfectly fried baskets of sea creature heaven. Because we are smart, hungry women, we ordered a pound of steamed peel and eat shrimp, 1/2 dozen oysters, a clam chowder, and the combo basket with clam strips, calamari, fried shrimp, and fries. Thirty minutes and 4 buckets of cocktail sauce later, we made our way back to the road.

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*Note: That is an oyster shell full of melted butter, salt, lemon juice, and leftover oyster/sea water. I know it doesn’t photograph well, and I don’t care, its the most delicious thing in the world and I was dipping fries in it by the end of lunch because I am a goddamn adult and I can. 

The Beach

I am under strict orders not to tell you what beach we went to, because it was quiet and peaceful and a little bit secret, and I am not sure how much that happens around those parts. But, if you want to go to Malibu and take me with you, I will totally tell you. We walked past a number of my future homes and a flock of seagulls. Sadly, not the band. (If it were the band, this whole post would be about that.)

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The Drinks

Because we are grown ups and it was a Wednesday, we decided that 2pm was the right time for beers. Becca knows everything, so we went to Paradise Cove, a throwback spot that reminded me of the set from Saved by the Bell, when they ALL went to work at Malibu Sands Beach Club. You know where Zach has a thing with Stacy Carosi? The club owners daughter? Oh Zach, you are so basic, and SO lucky that Leah Remini (who played Stacy Carosi) gave you the time of day. Realizing now, that I know too much about this. Anyway, we had a few Modelos on the beach, watched a come college girls taking selfies get knocked over by waves (very satisfying), sent a few questionable text messages, and earned my first successful California sunburn.

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The Plants

Know what is better than being a little tipsy at 3pm and buying a whole lotta plants for your tiny apartment? I don’t. Cosentino’s is a wholesale nursery right off the highway in Malibu. The place in enormous, and they have a billion gorgeous succulents and plants that are ready for their close up. This slightly over-eager customer MAY HAVE purchased 30 of them, all of which are still sitting on the kitchen table.

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The Ice Cream

Grom, in Malibu Country Market square, is fancy and delicious. I highly recommend the seasonal cherry and dark chocolate combo, and there are chairs outside to watch a 19-year-old in a fur jacket vest, trying to steal from a dry cleaner and get CAUGHT. This is obviously something that happened, and provided quite a bit of entertainment while enjoying out gelato and pretending to talk about other things.

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The entire purpose of this post is to get Tiff to come back to LA. If it worked on anyone else, that’s nice too.

Fin.

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C / Fisher Found

cher loves eileen fisher.jpg

Image via Arttrade

When Tiff was in town (sighs, wipes away single tear), we went to the Rose Bowl Flea. It’s a wonderland, full of antiques, rough-looking sunburns, teenage girls screaming at their mothers, and air plant vendors. What I didn’t expect, was to find Eileen Fisher there. Not actually Eileen, like the person, but to my absolute delight, Fisher Found had a booth at the market.

So, I didn’t know about Fisher Found, maybe because they used to go by Green Eileen, but probably because I don’t know about cool stuff like I used to. Anyway, Fisher Found is amazing, and it’s the place to find used Eileen Fisher stuff for way less than ticket price.

I want to also take a second to say yeah, I love Eileen Fisher. The company has set the standard for what it means to be a sustainable, ethical brand, and was doing it before it was cool, and before anyone asked it of them. They just see it as the right way to do business, and I think that’s awesome. Also, I used to think of Eileen Fisher as a brand that my mom would wear, and that I would not. Turns out, my mom has pretty good taste, and just how I have grown into stealing her music, her old purses, and her recipes, I am jumping on this train too. Fisher makes the best, softest basics, and the few pieces that I have, I wear to death.

The site is searchable by type of clothing, and because it’s all pre-worn, renewed, and remade, there is just one piece of each. It’s a lot like digging through piles at the flea market, but it doesn’t smell like dust and fish, and you won’t have to fight off strangers for your favorite piece. Unless that stranger is me.

Pieces that are up right now:

 

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3 EF.jpg

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Crop Sweater, Airy TankSilk Georgette dress, Cotton mini Chambray dress (the other pieces had sold out by the time I posted!)

Hope you like it as much as I do! My birthday is in two days.

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C/ TIFF IS COMING TO LA!

lady time.jpgI can’t really focus on anything today because I am so excited that Tiff lands in LA tomorrow morning! I could barely sleep last night. We are going to be very busy eating things, walking to things, looking at things, and talking about the things that we ate. There are going to be a lot of photos of tacos, and a lot of selfies in the next few days, so if you follow us on social media, get ready to be bored of us.

Mostly, I am so thrilled that Tiff is coming across the planet to see me. I miss my friend and I can’t wait to make a big embarrassing show about it at the airport in the morning.

OK SEE YOU TOMORROW! SORRY FOR THE YELLY CAPS.

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C / how not to see the superblooms

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If you live anywhere near Los Angeles, you are probably tired of hearing people talk about the superblooms. If you don’t have any idea what I am talking about, the superblooms are the wild flowers that are currently in full bloom in the California desert because of the crazy rain the state has had in the past few months. It has been potentially over-documented on social media, and there are just under fifty thousand photos with the #superbloom hashtag on Instagram. As the kids say, it’s a thing.

My LA Yoda, Lila, suggested to drive out to an area, just near Riverside to see the blooms a few Sundays ago. The adventure went as follows.

We had decided early in the week that Sunday morning would be the perfect time to head out. Most people are not early risers, so we figured we might be able to creep in before the thousands of girls in flowy dresses descended upon the fields to look just slightly away from the camera. As it turns out, we aren’t exactly morning people either, so we decided to go a little later, after coffee.

We each had coffee and around 10am, realized that we should probably go to the 11am pilates class, since we both bought the month unlimited class plan, and we are sort of losing money of we don’t go. So we went to pilates.

After toning our cores and lengthening our spines, we had to get ready, and have lunch. By about 1pm, I walked over to Lilas house, because I am always down for some lazy cardio, and figured we would get out of there by 2pm. Well, when I got there, she had the AMAZING idea of going to IKEA, since it’s on the way. It’s not everyday that someone willingly offers to take you to IKEA, so I sat on her floor with that catalog and got to circling things I cannot pronounce. We left her place about 3pm.

We decided on an hour in IKEA, which might be the most ridiculous thing I have ever typed. We spent an hour running through the showroom death maze, and then we were hungry, so we had to have dinner. Why would I even go to IKEA if I’m not having meatballs? By the time we got out of the cave of wonders, it was 6pm, I had $200 less than I came in with, and it was starting to get dark.

We checked the time of sunset, and with 30 min to spare, I drove quickly out to where ever the hell we went. The turnoff was promising, as there were tons of cars and a few ice cream trucks, preying on the weak.

We had a choice of two trails, the one that most people were walking up, or the one that you had to climb over barbed wire to get to, that had some trash on the side. Because I don’t want a bunch of randoms in the wistful photos of myself I planned on putting on the internet, we took the sketchy-looking way. This was not the right choice.

It got dark pretty quickly, and there was about as much trash as there were flowers on our special trail, so we made the best of it by using our “Instagram voices” and being idiots. We stayed for a solid 15 minutes, took some shitty photos, found the spotwhere a bunch of people had clearly laid down to selfie with six flowers, and took off when it got too dark to see anything. What a magical day, nature is truly amazing.

Here are some professional photos of the #superblooms.

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We did a terrible job seeing the super blooms, so please don’t follow my lead if you are into flowers. If you are into being an idiot on a Sunday, this is a very good game plan.

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C / a little Disney magic

castle.JPGI have had “A Whole New World” stuck in my head for days. You know, super normal adult stuff.

It all started last week when a friend came to town for her birthday, and we went to see the new Beauty and the Beast, followed by a trip to Disneyland, on a Monday. It was a lot of Disney, all at once. The movie was honestly pretty fantastic, but I like Emma Watson and am super into talking appliances, so don’t trust my opinion.

At Disneyland, we went on all the fun rides, got fast passes, inhaled churros, and impatiently waited in the never-ending lines. It was so much fun. Fun is great.

I am writing about it because for a while there, I had sort of forgotten about fun. It’s not that I have been living in a deep sadness all by myself or that I don’t smile or laugh or anything, I just sort of lost track of the things that make me feel like me. It’s easy to get lost in the constant mind spaghetti of “figuring it out,” which has sort of been my life the last year. Figuring it out blows, and constantly working on myself and through issues that I don’t really want to deal with is exhausting. Disneyland snapped me out of it.

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both normal faces

I giggled. I screamed on Space Mountain and ducked on the Indiana Jones ride when it felt like there were arrows being shot out of the wall. (It’s apparently just air.) I screamed and laughed and tried really hard to keep my arms up on Thunder Mountain. I insisted we go on the Teacups, because they RULE, and I may have gone a little crazy with the spinning and made everyone sick. Sorry guys!

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tea cups

Disney is problematic, obviously, especially in the 90’s when most of the movies they put out seemed to be in competition with each other for “most racist and anatomically unreasonable.” (I think Pocahontas won.) I will forever have bizarrely unrealistic expectations for love and cleavage, but those stories are a part of my childhood, and screaming my face off on rides inspired by them was the most fun I have had in a long time.

So thanks for that, Disneyland, and the rest of the Disney movies I have seen this week. It doesn’t matter what they are, mind your business.

PS, I am really proud of myself for not using the phrase “inner child” once in this post.

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