cait +tiff


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C / art helps

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Look who’s blogging again. I took a break because I really needed it, and now I’m back.

For a while there, I couldn’t think of anything real to say. This is technically a design/fashion/storytelling blog, and the only thing coming from my brain the last few weeks was a string of expletives and blank stares. It’s hard for me to talk about fashion and design thingies when I am worried about the absurd and hateful things happening in my country.

I went to The Broad museum this morning to look at art and get inspired. I also really wanted to take a photo in the Infinity room I had heard so much about. I showed up a few minutes late, got in the wrong line, and my outfit wasn’t cool enough. The cattle herders outside took pity on my confused face and let me in anyway.

When you go into the Broad, it feels like you are going into a giant, square, alien brain that happens to be full of Jeff Koons bubble art and some pretty dark cartoons. The long escalator ride up into the main exhibition hall added all the drama I wanted and I landed at the foot of what looked like giant candy dipped in liquid glitter. (Clearly an art critic here.)

As I walked around more, I saw a gold and white statue of Michael Jackson with a monkey, a few Warhols, some badass sculptures, and a photo of Batman from 1955 which I am pretty sure proves he is real. I also saw revolution in the art. I saw a lot of pain, struggles with oppression, silencing, slavery, racism, and a big ass collage of white dudes in hats that scared the bejesus out of me. Most of the art in the museum is older than I am, but the themes still ring true, and in a way, seeing these pieces made me feel better. Not better in the “everything is ok” way, but like when you would get in trouble but all of your friends did too. I don’t know if that makes sense, but it’s how I feel.

This is a little bit of what I saw, with my own reactions an no proper citations.

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Puppiessssss!

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It’s so true, for all of us, but mostly you. 

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Misleading rainbow vibes on fatalist prose. 

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Steve Bannon, Donald Trump, Jeff Sessions

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Ugh, I know. 

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The caption next to this says something like “the bird is angry because it’s plaster.” Yeah man, I would be angry too if you gave me plaster snacks. 

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In my head, this woman was one of Elvis’s girlfriends back in the day. I also want her hair. The Warhol is cool too. 

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Most original photo in the history of the world that I really love. Wish I wore something cooler. 

Art made me feel alright today, and it made me want to write again, which I haven’t wanted to do for a while. See art if you can, and if you can’t go see it, make it. Then make your friends look at it and pretend they get it.

caitsig

 


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C / California Cozy

It has been a long, long time since I have felt chilly. Not air-conditioning on the couch chilly, but brisk-outside, wearing flannel and drinking tea chilly. Today, in sunny LA, it is overcast, 68F (20C, for Tiff) and this coffee shop is playing throwback Joni Mitchell.  I get that 68F isn’t exactly the end of days, but for someone who has been pining for sweater weather for the last five years, I am enjoying the hell out of it.

Naturally, this moment of coziness has led me to internet dive into sweaters, scarves, and jackets that I will live in for the next few months, even when it’s inappropriate. The thing is, I don’t exactly have a “closet” to put sweaters in, or an “apartment” to live in, so until I have a permanent place to put myself, these are all dream cozy pieces.

Because I care about not destroying the world with my choices (#VOTE), I am looking at eco-friendly, sustainably-made options.

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Nau Clothing, Randy Goat Hoodie

 

 

 

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Stella McCartney, Fur Free Fur Cardigan

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Study NY, Aprés Ski Suit

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People Tree, Block Dress

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Patagonia, Fleece

Enjoy the coziness, even if it’s virtual.

caitsig


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C / the endgame

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Hello from a very comfortable couch in Brooklyn! I am here for a week, trying to get cool people to hang out with me, and eating everything I can reach. It’s going well so far and I am sure my jeans are just tighter because of the weather.

I love this city, and I know everyone loves New York because it’s the best, but I love it more. Being here takes me back to all the moments in Cambodia when I wished, with my whole body, to be here. Being on the subway and chatting with the deli guys makes me feel like myself. Deciding to walk instead of taking the train because it’s nice outside, makes me feel like myself. Bagels make me feel like myself.

I spent the last 48 hours doing some of my favorite things.

-Was at the bottom of a puppy pile

-Had pizza with a view of the whole city

-Saw my biggest lady crush, Garance Doré and smiled like a madman

-Giggled my way through fancy drinks and seriously delicious BBQ

-Had a few more drinks

-Ate oysters on a damn sailboat

-Was stalked by Heidi Klum walking around The Whitney

-Got to celebrate one of my favorite people, Joanna, for her birthday

-Talked for hours with a friend who has known me since the sixth grade.

I will happily move to LA in a few weeks, and I can’t wait to be there. I am ready to go hiking, eat every taco, and sleep with the windows open. I don’t know how long I will be there, or what will happen in the next few years, but New York is my endgame, it always has been. caitsig


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C / a good plan

“If you want God to laugh, tell him about your plans.” Woody Allen said that, and though Mr. Allen himself makes me feel kind of gross, I like that quote.

My life has been a continuous string of changed plans. I have had the next big great idea, big move, big job, or big plan roughly 148 times. Each plan was an attempt to find the thing I loved doing, the place I wanted to be, the person I wanted to be, or fall in love with my life. I have succeeded, in varying degrees, with each new plan. Sometimes, my great new plan just straight up failed, and the new thing that was supposed to fit was restrictive and uncomfortable. Of course I am better for these things, I have learned from all of my, “adventures” let’s call them, and I have a better idea of what I want to do and be.

Of course, now I am grown up, I’m 33 years old and I have laser-focus on my life and what I want. Mmmhmm.

As I mentioned a few weeks ago, I’m out of Cambodia in less that two weeks. It’s been just a few minutes under five years here, and it’s time for something else. Specifically somewhere else, where I sweat less and can dive into my now-professional love of fashion. My new master plan is a life in LA, a job with a very cool handbag company, taco eating, and dog shopping.

Plans change, I know that better than anyone else, but I have a good feeling about this one. This plan I made for me, which is somewhat new to my decision-making process, and I am feeling very pleased with myself.

Come visit, I have to do all the touristy stuff at some point, and I would rather blame it on you. caitsig


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C / last call

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I have been putting this post off for a while because I barely feel ready to say it out loud, let alone put it in writing on the internet, but I guess I have to. I am leaving Phnom Penh, in about a month.

Phnom Penh has been home for almost five years, and the thought of moving is pretty exciting, but in the way you might feel if a monkey tied bungee cords around your feet, slapped you on the ass, and told you to jump.

I will be making my way to the states for a while, New York first, and then the scenic route to Los Angeles. I don’t have all my plans set, I am semi-sure on job things, don’t have a place to live, very nervous, and ready enough. I guess. Maybe.

This isn’t a goodbye, I am here for a bit longer, so don’t get all sad yet. Get all sad when I actually leave, and make a big show of it. The blog will go on, Tiff and I will be fine, and our field trips will only be more exciting. Besides, I already have plans to be back in a few months. But if you are in PP and want anything made, let me know this week, because no new orders after August 12.

Jeez, that’s the coldest way ever to end this post. Push those feelings down, push them all the way down like your viking ancestors. (I’m talking to myself.)

I love you guys. Let’s all hang out a lot.

Photo Creditcaitsig

ps- If you want to know anything about the move, please ask me. I know it can be a little much for Tiff and my partner to field those weird life-trajectory questions, and I am super happy to do so. x


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C / Pants vs. Bruh

IMG_2644.jpgA few weeks ago, I went to the Ace Hotel in Downtown Los Angeles. I was with one of my best friends, Megs, and she was giving me the cool-kid LA tour, in effort to convince me to move there. It might be working.

(Writer’s note: it’s 5am and I have been up since 3:30 and I just finished watching the last episode of OINTB, and I am all full of feelings and potentially too much coffee.)

I remember when the Ace opened in Portland, just after I graduated from college. It was cool and dark and moody and they served the coffee that I used to get for my dad for Christmas, the now hipster-staple, Stumptown. The Ace empire now stretches from Seattle to Panama City and across the pond to London, where I might finally be able to afford a drink, thanks to Brexit. #thanksbrexit #jkyouareawful

In any case, I was worried that the LA Ace was going to be full of heavily-curated, overly-hip outfits and side eye, but I was wrong. (Mostly.) The people there were super nice, and at one point in the evening the DJ stepped out from behind the table to dance with his three year old daughter and the collective cold heart of the city melted. It was surprisingly chill and welcoming, the drinks were solid, and the pretentiousness that I expected was no where to be seen. But that’s because it was at the pool.

After I reached my grown-woman, two drink limit, I went to use the ladies. To get there, you have to walk through the pool area. I was glad I was wearing my new jeans, these sweet culotte things, because they weren’t going to drag on the wet pool deck, and they make my butt look fantastic. As I was walking back to the bar area, I heard a voice from about three feet away:

Bruh, sitting next to the pool, watching models that won’t talk to him: “What’s with girls wearing those stupid ass jeans now. I see them everywhere, ugh.”

At first I didn’t think he was talking about me, because 1. he was a 40 year old man wearing a flat-brimmed baseball hat at night, and 2. because I was THREE FEET AWAY, and who says that kind of thing, especially within earshot? My first reaction was to say nothing, but then I didn’t.

Me, whipping around in my magic butt jeans: “I can hear you.”

Bruh, with a dumb look on his face: “What? Oh, yeah, no, um, it’s just they aren’t really my thing.”

Me, double pointing at my pants: “These pants are awesome.” Then I walked away,

It was a little violating, and a little awesome at the same time. Obviously violating in that some non-contributing zero decided that he could talk shit about a random stranger, pretty much to her face, and clearly expected her to take it. Awesome, because I didn’t. I would have, in most of my life, and decided that the confrontation wasn’t worth it. I would have walked away with a bunch of snarky things that I didn’t say, swirling in my head.

So yay for me for yelling at a dummy, getting mad and saying stuff, and eff the patriarchy.

caitsig

I hope all that made sense, I need more coffee.

 

 

 

 

 

 


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C / NYC BRB

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Hi hi hi. I’m in New York and I’m super busy and super hungry today. This week has been amazing, and it feels like LA and NYC are in competition, specifically for my benefit, to be the coolest. I have to go eat thirty bagels now, and will write more later, but for the best article ever written on the differences between New York and LA, read this.

Photo via Eater

caitsig


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C / Samantha Bee

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Being back in the US always takes a minute to get used to, and with the attack in Orlando a few days ago, the bizarre complexity of this place is even more intense. Like a lot of people, I am sort of done with the “prayers for whoever just got shot” stuff. I feel like I am at the point where I can’t say anything profound or helpful regarding what happened, but Samantha Bee can.

This amazing chick has stepped up since she finally got her own show. Thank you, TBS, for that. Her comedy is smart, feminist, incisive, and funny as hell. I feel like she has somehow crawled into my mess of a brain and picked out all the important stuff and made it into a really funny show. She is able to make anger coherent when most of us (me) get so frustrated by all of this that all we (I) can manage are sputtering sentence fragments and a very red face.

Strong, important language below.

“Love does not win, unless we start loving each other enough to fix our fucking problems.”

caitsig

Photo credit TBS


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C/ LA LA LA LA LA


Hi, I’m in LA. Sorry for the super late post. I’m sure 3 of you care.

I have spent a lot of my life not liking LA. I knew nothing about it, of course, and had been through the city on my way to Disneyland, maybe twice. It was the Hollywood stuff, the “epicenter of vanity”stuff that I didn’t like. The Kardashians aren’t helping the case.

I am here now, looking at sustainable fashion jobs, and sort of actually like it. I’m hanging out downtown, at a very hip coffee shop, trying not to stare. The coffee is great, the people watching is phenomenal, and I wish I showered this morning. Honestly, I just want to write about the people I’m looking at, but that’s weird, right? I shouldn’t do that.

Things that have happened in LA that make me love it:

The airbnb we are staying is right downtown and is about 3 floors up. It’s high enough to drown out the traffic noise, but not high enough to miss the drumming concert that went on for three hours the first night.

 Getting up early to go to Eggslut only to find out that about 400 people had the exact same idea. Forced to walk around Grand Central Market and have one of the best bagel and smoked sturgeon (out of New York) at Wexler’s deli. Crisis averted 

Met an amazing friend at the opera and saw La Boheme. Started the night with quesadillas and pink champagne. Ended the night with an old fashioned at a bar that felt like the Natural History museum had a baby with a saloon girl from the gold rush.


The lady at Guisados knew my name after 24 hours.  

Bought a $5 chocolate eclair at Bottega Louie and destroyed it in an elevator. Not sorry.

This place is kind of fantastic, and it’s messing with all of my stereotypes. I’m going to have to find a new place to judge blindly.

 


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C / weirdo bingo-travel edition

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I do weird stuff sometimes. The peak times for me doing weird stuff are:

  1. When I’m tired
  2. When no one is around
  3. When lots of people are around but I don’t know them
  4. When I am traveling
  5. When I have time to kill

On the way back to US over the weekend, the conditions were perfect. I had 7 hours in the Seoul airport between my flight from Phnom Penh and my flight to LAX. I have a hard time sleeping on planes, so when me and my bloodshot eyeballs arrived in Seoul at 6:30 with about 30min of awkward plane sleep, the weird was coming.

I’m sharing this stuff because I think these things are awesome but also sort of strange. Either way, I highly recommend doing them while in transit. Sort of like a weirdo bingo.

  1. Sneaky facial. My skin is always wrecked after flights. It’s drying and red and awful and puffy and ew. My favorite way to fix this is to pretend I am a very fancy person, walk into Duty Free and make a bee-line to the very-expensive cosmetics counter. I ask about a few products, and tell them I am interested in trying a few other things from their line, because I have already tried so many. I ask about specific issues and ingredients in the product and by the end, my face is covered with dead sea cream and virgin tears. It’s a free facial and makes my skin happy. Sometimes I do buy something, sometimes I do not, either way I glow.
  2. Go find the ginseng counter. This is Seoul-specific, I guess, but can apply to other cultural things in airports all over the world. Korea is super into red ginseng, because it’s super good for you and it looks like the dead aliens from Independence Day when they are in those big glass tubes and Bill Pullman is like, “oh dang.” Anyway, I didn’t know that much about it, so I went to the counter and asked why it’s so popular. The people working there know SO MUCH, and they are happy to share and have you taste things. I got a few ginseng candies out of the deal and I feel much healthier already.
  3. Dance party. This is more of a mall walk/booty shake, but it’s fun. Grab one of those little push carts, put your carry ons on that bad boy, and put those ear buds in. I usually listen to HAIM, Raphael Saadiq, Prince, Billy Joel, or B, or some awesome combo of all. I walk as fast as I can, pushing the cart and a jamming out. I walk like Tyra, give a little booty tooch, and usually work up a sweat. Don’t worry, there are showers upstairs. Sometimes I sing, because you might as well look properly crazy if people are already staring at you. They jealous.
  4. Jason masks. In addition to the sneaky facial, I love the paper masks they sell at the cheapy cosmetic stores all over the airport. These are the products that aren’t nice enough to get into Duty Free and come in flavors ranging from snail to 24 karat gold to royal jelly.  Find a row of empty seats, and put that weird mask on your face and watch people be terrified of you. If you lay down and cross your arms across your chest, people may thing you are embalming yourself. Hell, you might be, I don’t know what’s in those masks.
  5. Stretch. This is actually a very good idea, and if you are lucky, you might be joined by a group of elderly ladies that are amused by how giant you are. The stretching really helps with the whole sitting for a million hours thing, but people will look at you. It’s important to make sure you are not wearing see-through leggings for this, but that’s pretty much the only precaution.

That’s all. There are probably more things, but chances are, I don’t notice they are happening. Everyone steals cheese from the lounge, don’t look at me.

Photo credit

caitsig