i fall for fall

And just like that, summer is over. I've been in a blissful state now that things have cooled down. Sleeping with the windows open with the cool air coming in has left me rested and ready to start the day each morning. With fall comes a change of weather and some fun additions to my lifestyle. The Balenciaga buckle ankle boots are an ideal wardrobe staple but let's face it, I need to pay rent instead. (A girl can dream) Alexander Wang coin purse for my metro card, more film for my mini polaroid camera, MOR candle to scent my room, ck one pure color lipstick in lip lock for a perfect berry pout, cider donuts which I can not say no to at every flea market, a Movado watch in rose gold and gold stamped Kate Spade note cards to write well wishes to friends and family this season. Rock on fall, I love you.

a day away

  80 some minutes outside of the city in the Hudson Valley is Beacon, New York. By taking Metro-North out of Grand Central Station you can take the east line towards Poughkeepsie, get off at Beacon and find yourself a short walk from Dia:Beacon. Taken directly from the museums brochure;

Dia:Beacon, Riggio Galleries opened in May 2003 as the presentation facility for the collection and a series of exhibitions and performances. Dia:Beacon occupies a former Nabisco box-printing factory build in 1929 and offers 240,000 square feet of exhibition space, most of which is illuminated by natural light. In collaboration with the architecture firm OpenOffice, artist Robert Irwin designed the interior spare, the building vestibule and forecourt, as well as the surrounding landscape.

Assembled during the 1970s and early 1980s, Dia's original collection includes artworks by Joseph Beuys, John Chamberlain, Walter De Maria, Dan Flavin, Donald Judd, Imi Knoebel, Blinky Palermo, Fred Sandback, Franz Erhard Walther, Andy Warhol, and Robert Whitman.

I know being a graphic designer that most would think that I adore art museums of all sorts and visit them on a frequent basis but it's quite the opposite. I enjoy all art but don't mind admiring it from afar, say a website or a book. I appreciate it but it needs to be something pretty absurd and interesting to get my butt in front of it. The trip to Dia:Beacon was spur-of-the-night-before and promised a pretty train ride and a cute town to boot. The town is more or less a drag but I recommend the museum to everyone who has the time. Go when it's bright and sunny out so you can appreciate the great sky lights and naturally light artwork. Walking through and being able to really grasp the space the collection took up made each exhibit special and exciting. The museum's interior design caters to each artist. It fits comfortably in the space. I was so affected by the light that while I was left feeling a bit down after a walk through main street (think sad, slow forgotten town) that I was almost instantly snapped back and energized to go through each and every part of the space.

My personal favorites was the Agnes Martin and Michael Heizer collections. Quite different but equally engaging I found myself thinking about the entire trip to Dia:Beacon for the rest of the weekend. So if you have the time and want to get out of the city for a few hours I highly recommend the trip.

dream a little dream

There are so many steps. They begin at a normal height and width but continuously grow taller and wider so that I have to sit down and skooch to the edge on my butt to get to the next. I'm trying to get to the bottom because I am late. Full of anxiety and a rush of adrenaline because I know I'm going to take a bad step and fall. Smooth, cool metal. Blue hue with a perfect brushed metal texture. The steps, they slant at the most absurd angle. Look up to take a breath to see the most modern looking chandelier full of small metal loops. They hang down and look like rain falling from the sky. I continue going down.

Sometimes when I wake up I have a lingering dream that is just out of reach to recall. Sometimes though the details are so vivid that I swear it wasn't a dream at all. All those fucking steps. Even my hands were cool enough to have made me think I really was using them to guide me down as they grew more steep. So I got up and went to the bathroom. I keep a small guide to dream book on the back of the toilet. I mostly love the illustrations but time to time when I have an alarming dream, something so vivid, I'll take a peek. Brushing my teeth I found "steps."

Ascended + Descending
280 Steps and Stairs
With its rhythmic motion, going up and down steps or stairs presents a Freudian symbol of intercourse. A long, straight staircase is something a phallic symbol, just a the stairwell may symbolize the female genitalia. More modern interpretations may view climbing stairs as an expression of personal growth and developing emotional maturity. Descending or falling down stairs may express anxiety about "climbing too high" in some aspect of your life - that is, overestimating your abilities.

Well I'll be damned. Spot on. Recovering from surgery which links me to the Freudian symbol of female genitalia (Sorry to be so… honest here). And for the modern interpretation, I have a terrible habit of promising more to people in life and at work that sometimes I'm able to handle. I've been spread a bit thin lately but working on being more conscious of what I can achieve and within what time limit. I'm trying to climb high, as high as humanly possible. But climbing up requires a good foundation and confidence for each step. I never did fall in my dream. I reached the bottom and literally smashed through the last step. Yeah, take that weird dream.

putting on the spritz

Recently my days have been… stressful to say the least. Times where I feel stretched to my limit always remind me of endless hours spent in the design studio. Another student who was a year ahead of me always seemed to be on top of her game, even in times of complete chaos. You would never know that she had been in the studio all night because she presented herself calm, cool and collected. Lipstick on, hair clean and neat. She gave me a bit of advice that has stuck with me since that day. "I always try to look nice because getting dressed and putting on my makeup is sometimes the only good part of my day."

When I feel beat up because of the daily grind sometimes I wear my favorite dress or lipstick to pick me up. I may feel like I'm falling apart but that doesn't mean I need to look it. More than anything my fragrance picks me up the most. Above is what currently is on display on my bureau.

Top row, left to right: Coco Mademoiselle, Chanel Chance, Balenciaga Paris, Balenciaga L'Essence and Bottega Veneta. Bottom row, left to right: LAVANILLA Laboratoreis Vanilla Grapefruit, Vera Wang Lovestruck, Clinique Happy, Prada Infustion d'Iris and Marc Jacobs Splash in Fig (no longer available).

Glamorama

For one week every fall, girls all around the metro area get up extra early. They carefully put on their makeup, style their hair, match their bags to their shoes and go on a Starbucks binge. They critique every seam, stitch and zipper and upon discovery of any new name and a Starbucks fueled fury, blast their twitter, instagram and facebook with their knowledge of fashion. These girls breathe fashion. They stuff their toes into heels in hope to get photographed standing around looking chic at Lincoln Center. Suddenly what's not in, is in and the whole city feels like I'm living in some Glamorama spin off. (Less fucked up but just as bewildering.)

Everyone is asking me or telling me rather what show they saw, which model or celebrity they stumbled upon at the Le Bain fashion night out party. By telling me I mean scream/speaking on their iphones walking down the street or to their other fashion friend on the subway. PR girls everywhere are skipping lunch to go see Opening Ceremony but of course it was so worth it and what is lunch when fashion can fill you up anyway. Skipping lunch is the fashion equivalent to dying a thousand deaths in the name of a designer.

In the name of fashion, all PR, magazine and self-proclaimed style authorities should keep their voices down and conversations to themselves. And please stand somewhere else looking awkwardly chic but without-caring-I-look-this-odd-everyday-because-I'm-an-individual-with-a-creative-flair. I would like to get to yoga on time.

P.S. There is lipstick on your teeth.

quiche me

I have a confession. While I've been fully moved out of my parents house for 7 years, it wasn't until roughly the last summer that I've taking an interest in actually cooking for myself. I am a living example that one can live on eggs, toast, waffles and soup. It wasn't that I couldn't cook but cooking for one always seemed a bit dramatic. City living doesn't make it any easier either. I walk past 10+ delicious restaurants on my way to the market, then have to lug everything I bought back home and then use my barbie-sized kitchen to prepare a meal that may or may not turn out the way the picture looked online. My daily routine consisted of working late, running a few miles and then satisfying my hunger with whatever took the least amount of time. I always felt cranky, tired and suffered from sweeps of anxiety. Something had to change.

Change one, new apartment and neighborhood. Suddenly there were markets all around me that didn't charge $10.00 for mustard. Change two, a new job. 40 hour weeks rather than 50-60 hours. Change three, I got really sick of eggs, toast, waffles and soup. I also watched a lot of Top Chef at my first apartment in Hoboken. I'm not sure why exactly but eventually all those episodes sparked something in me. A commitment to a healthy mind and body, I began to cook. 

I started small. Basic chicken, seafood and dips. Guacamole became a staple in my world last summer. I didn't cook for anyone but myself. I would think back to Top Chef were the challenge was to whip up a 5 star meal in 15 minutes. Well I had 2 hours and aimed at about 3 stars, how hard could it be? I learned to cut recipes down to simple fresh ingredients. What the staples were in whatever I was preparing and what might improve the meal depending on fresh produce or what I was craving. I often pretended that I was hosting my own cooking show to an invisible 20 something crowd. A very casual, "I was just like you once, didn't know a mince from a chop but look at me now," cue severely professional knife skills.  

You've (whoever you are that reads my random internet thoughts) probably caught on to the more food related posts within the last year. More recently I've started cooking not just for myself but for my boyfriend. Prep work is my favorite. Happily dicing up onions while mascara tears stream down my face or pulling basil leaves apart and measuring flour, sugar, etc. Thinking about the day, putting worries to rest, focusing on the equation of ingredients rather than what needs to be completed at the office. More than anything an importance on slowing down. Why rush the process? There is no race against the clock. Sip water, breathe in, smell lemon and garlic, warm up the oil, warm up the oven. My most recent work is quiche. Inspired by a quiche my good friend Erin used to make at my first job and by a more recent bite at The Blue Stove in Williamsburg. The recipe below and for anyone who has never made crust, this crust is very simple and easy. I was sure that this would be the crust that ruined my cooking run but alas, perfectly golden. Enjoy.

crust

1 1/4 cups of flour

1/2 cup butter, chilled and diced

 1/4 teaspoon salt

1/4 cup ice water

Combine flour and salt in a bowl. Cut in butter until mixture resembles crumbs. Stir in water, a tablespoon at a time, until mixture forms a ball. Refrigerate while you prep the filling. Roll dough out to fit a 9 inch pie plate. Place crust in pie plate. Press the dough evenly into the bottom and sides of the pie plate.

filling

6 large eggs, beaten

1 1/2 cups heavy cream

salt and pepper

2 cups chopped fresh baby spinach, packed

1 pound bacon, cooked and crumbled

1 1/2 cups shredded Swiss cheese

Preheat the oven to 375 degrees. Combine the eggs, cream, salt, and pepper in a bowl and whisk together. Layer the spinach and cheese in the bottom of the pie crust. Add bacon to the the egg mixture then pour on top of cheese and spinach. Bake for 35 to 45 minutes until the egg mixture is set.

original recipes for quiche and crust