Galaxy Granola

At my work there is a huge-normous unlabeled tub of granola, which a lot of people eat with some bananas or berries on top.
I too like granola, but I am allergic to nuts, and the work-provided granola has nuts in it, so I bring my own Galaxy Granola, which I really like. People with nut allergies have to be really careful about things that have lots of ground-up, MYSTERY INGREDIENTS in them, such as breads, cookies... granola. Most of the Galaxy Granola flavors don't have nuts, and if they do, they say so clearly on the label. Galaxy Granola is really crunchy and tasty, and it's made with organic ingredients. If only all problems in life could be so easily solved! So far I've tried Mocha Fudge, Not Sweet Vanilla Munch, and Gingersnap, and I plan to try the Banana next.

So Gosh Darn Cute!

Tenorikuma is a new Sanrio character. He's a little coffee-making bear. This is a plush coin purse! Some of the stationery has a smiling little milk foam puff and a happy sugar cube. I think what I love most about silly made-in-Japan kawaii stationery is the anthropomorphization. I love thinking that little sugar cubes, sushi rolls, cups of coffee and various fruits and vegetables have cute little personalities.

Some of my Japanese Tea Cups

I don't passionately collect anything, but I do have a collection of Japanese tea cups. Most of them are from Rafu Bussan in Los Angeles. My old dentist was right next door, and somehow I got into the habit of browsing Rafu Bussan's vast stock of Japanese porcelain and always buying a pretty tea cup after my biannual teeth cleaning appoinment. Not very romantic, I know.
These Japanese tea cups are different from American coffee cups in a lot of ways; they're thick, they're often artfully glazed down the inside of the cup as well as on the outside, and they're often textural, so they feel bumpy or ridged or curved or whatever in your hands. My favorite one was blue and curvy, and I loved drinking coffee with cream out of it. I nabbed it from my dad's house, actually. Somehow it cracked, so I don't have it anymore. That's kind of what I get for taking the cup without asking, huh?

Saponaria

They have a lacy, wildflower look, and are long-lasting. There was also a beautiful white color, so white it was almost blue, but I'm in a pink mood today. Next time I see Saponaria, I'll buy blue-white.

Not Your Average Ice Cubes

Before moving to San Francisco, my sweetie and I lived in a charming little part of Oakland, California known as Piedmont.
One of the first things that impressed me about Piedmont was that there is an always-full coffee independent house called Gaylord's on one corner, and right on the opposite corner is a nearly-always empty Starbucks. We took a break from unpacking our belongings on a hot September day and wandered down to this Gaylord's for an iced coffee.
"Ice cubes or coffee cubes?" the woman working there asked.
"Can you repeat that?" I said, startled.
She gestured toward the ice cream freezer, in which there was an empty ice cream bucket half-full of dark brown ice cubes - cubes of frozen coffee.
"Oh my GOD!" I exclaimed. "I'll have the coffee cubes, please!"

GENIUS!!!

Since we've moved away from Gaylord's and their coffee cubes, and discovered the joy of Blue Bottle coffee, we now make our own coffee cubes at home. (I could also wax poetic about Blue Bottle's New Orleans-style iced coffee, and I will... another time.) If you like iced coffee, I highly recommend making yourself some coffee cubes. Instead of your iced coffee getting weak and watered-down as the ice melts, it gets stronger! Once you use your ice trays for coffee, though, they become stained and you cannot use them for plain water again - the ice will taste like coffee. So get two separate ones and dedicate them to your coffee cubes. Brew the coffee and let it cool a little, but don't let it sit around and get cold and stale. Pour it into your ice trays (leave a little room for expansion at the top) and refrigerate the rest of the coffee. Drink the cold coffee soon; don't let it sit around in your fridge for days. Add whatever sugar and milk you're going to add, and enjoy!

My Old Friend (Florence Arnold)

This weird piece of modern art has a lot of sentimental value for me (I'm a very unsentimental person). It belonged to my grandparents, who gave it to my mom. I can remember falling asleep on the couch, staring at it, when I was younger than kindergarten-age. My mom gave it to me when I was fifteen and moving out of her house, and it's been everywhere from my college dorm room to the apartment I share now with my partner. It fell down in the Northridge, California earthquake in 1994 (I lived in Northridge at the time), the glass shattered, ripping part of the paper, and it was the one thing I carried out of that apartment when the fire department and cops escorted the residents in for ten minutes - we had ten minutes to salvage any valuables or documents!

The artist's name is Florence Arnold. Her style is called hard edge, or California hard-edge. I have two other lithographs and a sculpture also made by her. My grandpa and she were friends, so there's a lot of her artwork floating around the homes of my aunts and uncles, but I don't think anyone actually likes the art but me. They should give it all to me! I love mid-century modern! I love Florence Arnold's work, and I love this piece especially. My mom and I irreverently call it "the toilet bowl" because that's what I said it looked like when I was just a wee brat.


See it in context.
See the other two pieces.

My XXX Rated Hamster

In general, male hamsters are a little smaller and more mellow than female hamsters, so I decided to get a male hamster. All well and good - I love my little hammie. The funny thing about male hamsters is - they have enormous balls! It's really kind of gross.

I Love Fashion Twins

I saw these women, with the same Vera Bradley quilted handbag in different colors and just about peed myself with happiness.

Shortly thereafter, I saw two men together, each with khaki shorts and a bright blue tee shirt, with the same build and coloring, and SO wanted to take their photo, but I had used the last bit of my camera's memory card taking a stupid picture of the driver of the shuttle I was on. Dang, I could have had two in one day.

My obsession with Fashion Twins has now surpassed my obsession with low-rise pants and butt cracks. And something in me has changed - now, instead of looking down my nose at people who are dressed alike, I feel happy and giggly when I see them. Maybe that's why they do it! Does it make them feel happy?! (I will have to ask my mother, whose style is normally so severe and tailored that I almost fainted from shock when I saw a photo of her and three friends, smiling, and ALL WEARING THE SAME HIDEOUS CELINE DION TEE SHIRT.)

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I Love These Flowers

These are called Montbrecia. I hope they last for a long time; I love their alien-wildflower look and the brilliant color.

They are the same flowers that Heidi on Vashon is growing in Vashon, Washington.

By the way, that is my goldfish, named Ping, in the bowl on the coffeetable.

Men in Low-Rise = BUTTCRACK!

I'm glad that the "Low-Waisted Pants + Short Shirt= My Buttcrack is Showing" issue is not limited to women's fashion. No one is exempt!

It's True - the 80's Are Back

I've been complaining to anyone who will listen that the 80's are back, I hate 80's fashion, boo hoo, what am I going to do, and so on.
I remember the pants I wore in middle school, and they were really tight Jordache or Guess jeans, with zippers at the ankles and sometimes little denim bows at the tops of the ankle zippers. I also wore pink Reebok high tops and I usually had on a pile of jelly bracelets and a thing called a "banana clip" in my hair; hair which I had laboriously crimped at 5:30am each school day with a super-hot crimping iron. My mascara, which I had to hide from my mom, was electric blue, and I had a pair of cheap pink high heels she didn't even know I owned, which I would change into at school, shoving my Reeboks into my locker.

All this makes me shudder; it was cute then; I was thirteen. It hardly mattered if my jeans were tight - I was a child - I had no curves. The thought of SQUEEZING myself into pants like that NOW makes me really scared.

Still, there are some fashions from the 80's that make me smile to see again, like dolman sleeves, boatnecks, sexy open-backed tops, wide diagonal and chevron stripes, polka-dots, pink-and-gray, navy-and-kelly green, and those freakin' little candy-colored hearts and stars that seemed to cover EVERYTHING in 1988. And another thing I didn't get my fill of in 7th grade - candy-colored plastic beads.

This week I've purchased two rather 80's-style tops; one navy blue with kelly green dots and a criss-cross of fabric in back, and this one; a cream tunic with blue diagonal stripes, and three giant-bead plastic necklaces - one red, one pink, and this aqua one, above. All right. so I've given in to the 80's comeback! I can't exactly run around naked and unaccessorized, can I? So that's my excuse. Hey, a girl can change her mind.

STOP! This Post is Rated NC-17!

One of these handfuls of teeny-tiny clips came from a sex toy store. The other pile came from an office supply store. At one store, they were twenty cents each: at the other, $1 each. The pink ones were purchased about six months after the black ones, and the black ones were purchased six months ago. (HA HA.)

All right, I'll stop being silly.

The moral of this story is: all the world's a stage and every object is a potential sex toy!

Have a good weekend!

A Pot Rouge for Lips and Cheeks

I like my two new Bobbi Brown pot rouges for lips and cheeks. I got colors "Flushed Pink" (the more natural one) and "Pale Pink" (the more candy-like, blue-pink one). They're creamy and soft, not too greasy (I think the Convertible Color by Stila feels too greasy) and I like the wide, round jar. A lot of round makeup items wear down only in the center because of the ways they're sized and shaped; like your finger can only get to one spot easily within the pot. This stuff comes in a really wide-mouthed, shallow jar so you can get to all the product easily. Too bad I didn't take the photograph BEFORE I stuck my grubby finger in there, right?! Well, you germophobes can use a lip brush.

If anyone remembers the cream rouge that Chanel used to make, which was tragically discontinued; with a fine-mesh screen that covered the actual product; this stuff is similar in feel and performance. I loved that stuff!
So this is great: we can all look like we've been running through meadows and eating cherries and getting stung on the lips by killer bees!
Hooray! Sexy bitches!

Gingerbread Cream Cheese Cupcakes

These pretty things are two gingerbread cupcakes with cream cheese icing, from Miette Patisserie in San Francisco. They also make this same gingerbread in a lovely cake that serves 6-8 people. Even without the cream cheese icing, the gingerbread itself is rich with spices, not-too-sweet, amazingly moist, dark and full of molasses, and dense. It's heaven in a fluted paper cup; it makes the eyelashes flutter and the eyes ROLL BACK IN THEIR SOCKETS!

(Unfortunately, the cakes are too fresh and delicate to ship, but Miette does ship their wonderful macaroons, which are tiny, round, delicately-flavored things that just melt in your mouth. They're kind of crisp, kind of chewy, and very complex-tasting.)

Shopping for Flowers Is Competitive. Who Knew?

Each week my partner and I go to the Farmers Market at the Ferry Plaza in San Francisco. People who go regularly know to go early; later it gets very crowded with tourists and the kinds of people who go once in a while, wander around looking lost, bump into others, and exclaim, "OH WOW! WHAT'S OVER THERE?! WHAT'S THIS?!" These people are also likely to ask really stupid questions of the vendors and farmers, such as, "Do you have any peaches?" (in the dead of winter), and "Do you have this nonfat, with Splenda?" to the French guy who makes organic whole milk yogurt with local honey from his family's recipe and sells it in little terracotta crocks.

Unfortunately, this week we went a little late, so I got elbowed and jostled and stepped-on by aggressive yuppies trying to get the VERY BEST BUNCH of flowers.
Yes, make sure you spend your four dollars WISELY. (And watch out for my ribs; I kind of like them the way they are - UNBRUISED. Jeez!)

It was so crowded that I was unable to see the label on the bucket; so I don't know what type of flowers these are. I like their sweet candy-colored blooms.

Insanely Spicy Ginger Hand Cream

Enough about the sexploits of my neighbor. We now return to our regularly scheduled programming.
Friday, I obtained a jar of Pharmacopia Ginger Hand Cream. This stuff is so gingery, it practically bites your nose when you open the jar. It smells incredibly good to a ginger lover like me. It's made with 70% organic ingredients, it sinks in fast, and it's super rich, but non-greasy. The jar is brown glass; very heavy and elegant. LOVE IT!

(My thanks to Kathy at my work for the recommendation.)

Gamers with Game?

I'm the stereotypical crotchety, nosy old lady neighbor, except that I'm not old. (Yet.) I get mad when people wash their cars in the parking area (because their soapsuds run into the drains that say "no dumping" and have a little picture of a crab on them, because we live by the beach and the goddamned soapsuds go right into the ocean), I get mad when people overfill the recycling bins because they don't break down their stupid IKEA and Budweiser boxes, I get mad when neighbors let their dogs trample around and shit in the native plant restoration areas around our apartments. Call me crazy.


One of my favorite neighbors to spy on is a quiet guy named James **.
There's really nothing interesting about him; he's geeky but not geeky enough to be endearing, he has no style, and he has no charm. (He did used to have a roommate who had plenty of charm. The ex-roommate offered to help me carry my packages upstairs one day, and would always say a very friendly hello.) James is in his early thirties, he's pale as a ghost, he's got a big bald spot, and he walks like a robot. He's your stereotypical aging video gamer. The thing that always made me want to spy on him was his girlfriend - a pudgy, brown-haired white girl who wore a ton of stinky, gag-inducing perfume all the time. (I call her Ross because she smells like a Ross Dress for Less dressing room.) Ross was over so often that I was starting to wonder if she had moved in, and they were at the stage of their relationship where they would order pizza and Chinese food and watch movies at home. And I was happy for them.


Saturday we heard her loudly saying goodbye at the door. She sounded oddly fake, as if she were saying goodbye to a salesperson at Nordstrom instead of to her boyfriend. Then she trudged downstairs, wearing one of her trademark thin cotton skirts, tennis shoes, and a full backpack that made her look like a turtle. "He's such a jerk," I complained to my boyfriend. "He doesn't even walk her to her car." My boyfriend peered out the window. "She looks sad," he said. She walked to her car, opened the trunk, put the backpack inside, and left.


Cut to this morning... James was leaving at the same time I was leaving for work (VERY early... 6:30am) with a new woman, a thin, ugly version of Ross.
My God, I'm in shock. I feel like I've been cheated-on. Saturday, Ross was sent packing, and by Sunday James had an Ugly Girl sleep over. And he's so damned milquetoast... so bland... so plain... how is it that HE dumped one woman and hooked up with another one in the span of one weekend? Did he even have time to wash his sheets?! Pig. God, I hate heterosexual men. God, it just makes me wanna spray Ross' horrible Clinique Happy perfume all over the stairwell and also into his mailbox.

** names have been changed to protect the innocent.

Another Pair of Fashion Twins

Sigh.


They jogged past us today, less than 24 hours after I snapped the photos of the Red Jacket Twins.

Curse of the Red Jacket Twins

I was futiley trying to take photographs of some cormorants flying in a perfect V formation yesterday evening on the beach, when I saw this person in a red windbreaker and long olive green shorts.
A moment later, when the person somehow split into two right before my very eyes, I realized it was actually a COUPLE DRESSED EXACTLY ALIKE.
Nope, these are not identical twins who have been dressed by their parents - that would be forgivable. No, indeed - one person here is a woman and one is a man, and they appear to be romantically or sexually partnered. They CHOSE to buy these matching outfits, and they chose to wear them TO THE SAME PLACE AT THE SAME TIME! EEEEEW!
I have to go. I'M GONNA PUKE!

Disclaimer:

A lot of people have told me that some things I write, and that photographing people unawares for the sole purpose of mocking their fashion is shallow and mean.
To this I say: Dear Pollyanna, Go collect some eggs from the henhouse, and suck on them!

Please - your government is mean. Your boss is mean. And I can hazard a guess that you're probably not sitting around translating philosophy from the original Greek all day, Mr. Deep Thinker. Are you never shallow? And we all make fashion mistakes... I am not exempt. I too own a boring black hoodie and I'm sure that at some point, I will ::gag:: tie it around my waist.

If you by some chance ever find a candid photo of yourself (and your hideous outfit) on my blog or my flikr photo site, simply email me and I will remove you.

Carry on!

AntiPanti

One of my dirty secrets is that I love lowbrow humor: toilet humor, bodily functions, Austin Powers, South Park the Movie, Beavis and Butthead - you name it.
(Okay, so it's not such a secret. Whatever!) And something that really tickles the immature 7th grade boy in me is when I see someone's panties rising out of their low-rise pants or jeans. It ALWAYS makes me laugh. I'm not judgemental about it, and I'm pretty sure it happens to me, too. I just think it's hysterically funny.

Some entrepreneur has come up with a solution to this panty situation. It's a round disc with cotton on one side and sticky stuff on the other side. You stick it in the crotch of your pants and put your pants on without any panties. it's called the ANTIPANTI! One antipanti is $2 each.

Perusing the website, two questions immediately came to mind:

1) Why bother wearing panties or an ANTIPANTI at all, then? If you're that worried about your thong showing, just go bare. It's not like your sweat or possibly a little vaginal secretion is going to BURN A HOLE through your pants.

2) Isn't this just basically a round panty liner, like you can get at the drugstore in a pack of fifty for two dollars? Why buy a pack of ANTIPANTI (I've decided that the plural of antipanti is also antipanti ) at five for ten dollars?

Ah, but the people at ANTIPANTI have anticipated my questions! They reply that the antipanti allows you to wear your pants several times without washing them! You leave your bodily junk on the antipanti instead of in the crotch of your pants! And as for my second question, the antipanti is different from your mainstream panty liner because it's not "institutional" (what the Hell does that mean???) and because it's sticky all over. Sort of weak arguments, I think, but in the interest of research, I plan to buy a pack of ANTIPANTI, distribute them to pals, and get feedback. I will report back! Stay tuned for ANTIPANTI ADVENTURES.

Lush Cosmetics aka "The Beckys"

I was feeling my dry skin and complaining to my boyfriend about it. "MY FACE FEELS SO DRY!" I yelled.
"Want one of the Beckys?" he called from another room.


"What?" I said, not sure if I'd heard correctly. "The Beckys?"
I thought, What the Hell are The Beckys?
He popped out of the bathroom with a jar of Lush face cream.

On the back or bottom of every Lush jar, there's a sticker that says what day the batch of product was made, what its expiration date is, and there's an unflattering drawing of the woman who supposedly made it. We've noticed before that all my products except for one were made by a "Niki", and the one loner was made by a "Sarah".

I peered at the sticker. "That's not BECKY," I told him witheringly, "That's NIKI."

"Oh," he said very seriously. "Well, this whole time I thought she was named Becky."

I do have a co-worker named Becky, which makes the whole thing funny to me.

Lush has a cult following. I suppose you could say I am on the FRINGES of the cult. I kind of want to go on the Lush messageboards and start trading the woman-stickers like trading cards: ""I need a Monica. Anyone have a Monica? I've got FIVE Nikis. Anyone want a Niki?"

If you ever get anything from Lush, make sure to look at the sticker! It's pretty addictive stuff; handmade, high-quality, delicious-smelling products - you just might love Lush so much that you too will soon have a bathroom full of Beckys.

Caleb Siemon's Glass

I'm positively drooling for this beautiful striped vase, by glassblowing artist Caleb Siemon. I love its colors; the same colors of my Marimekko wall hanging that hangs above my chair and opposite my living room sofa (photo at left). I never get tired of these soft stripes and these soft colors.

I WANT THE VASE!

At close to $800, it's JUST A LITTLE outside my price range, though. Hmmph.

Vera Bradley Hell

I bought a quilted brown flowered purse from a luggage shop in San Francisco. It was pretty inexpensive (a little more than LeSportsac. A lot less than, say - Coach) and it was a brand I'd never heard of before, but it looked well-made, and I thought it was old-fashioned in a calico, Little House on The Prairie sort of way, which I thought would be fun and ironic.
I like the teeny tiny flowers with other brown things I wear, like a brown plaid wool winter skirt I have, and even with jeans, brown suede platform shoes and a sweater. I like mixing things in small amounts, like flowers with leopard, faux-tortoiseshell with just about everything, etc.

After I bought the bag, I started investigating the brand out to see what, if any other cute things they had. Checking out the website, I realized the brand, Vera Bradley, is like some kind of less-cool Laura Ashley (is that even possible?) and that nobody but older white ladies of a certain frumpy aesthetic goes ANYWHERE NEAR these bags!!!

Proof - my photographs; see above. One lady in a wheelchair and the lady pushing her along, peering into the crowded and tacky window of a shop in which several Vera Bradley bags are displayed. Another is a lady I saw carrying a Vera Bradley purse on the street. And yours truly, posing with my own frumpy-dumpy accessory! I honestly think I'm the only woman in the entire world under age 55 and the ONE AND ONLY woman of color who has ever, ever rocked the Vera B. I'm a little scared of myself.

You know you want one.

An Edible Weed - Purslane

I was making a salad with mixed lettuces, little tomatoes, carrots, green onions and nectarine slices and found this crazy BRANCH that looked like the succulent they call "jade plant" in my salad mix. It's about seven inches long with all these plump round leaves on the stick part. (You can see it in the salad in the 2nd photo, and alone in the 3rd.)When it comes to vegetables, I'm adventurous, but this SALAD BRANCH kind of freaked me out. So I took a photo to show to my coworkers (I work at an organic vegetable company) to ask them what it was.

Becky, who has worked there for eighteen years, is usually the person I would ask, mostly because she always has a funny story related to the thing I'm asking her about. However, she's on vacation, so I emailed my boss. She called me laughing, and said it's called purslane, and it grows like a weed, and it probably got into the salad mix accidentally; however, it is nutritious and people do eat it - on purpose.

Well, you learn something new every day!

Goodness Gracious, The Papers...

I own three pieces of art and a sculpture from the mid-century modern era. Sadly, that is all the REAL art that I own. Three pieces of art and one sculpture are not enough to fill a whole apartment, and I'm not an artist, so I cannot produce my own art, so I've used a lot of high-quality, matte-textured gift wrap, which I cut, mat, frame and hang. On this wall of my dining room I put these papers in 16" x 20" silvery frames. I used lots of colors so that I can change my table linens and flowers often, without thinking about "matching" them to any particular color. The bottom picture is an array of some of the different placemats that I use on the dining table. I did this on a really small budget, and am very happy with the way it all turned out.

metal-and-glass frames - around $20
pre-cut mats - around $5-$10 each
sheets of gift wrapping paper - less than $3 each

Click photos for a larger view.

That weird Cousin Itt-looking thing in the lower left corner of the hole in the wall is not really Cousin Itt - it's a very dark-green plant!

The Devil Wears Prada

(Yoda fountain at the Letterman Digital Arts Center, by sculptor Lawrence Noble. This is where I saw the movie.)

1. I saw a free screening of this movie last night.
There's not much to say, other than these five things:

2. Anne Hathaway's hair was super shiny!

3. I love Meryl Streep.

4. I never thought I would say this about any book/movie combo, but:
The movie is much better than the book upon which the film is based! They took out all the pathetic, boring side plot crap and left the fashion and the evil antics of the Miranda Priestly character.

5. The fashions that the Andrea Sachs character (Anne Hathaway) after her makeover were awesome and amazing!

Okay.
That's all.

Resisting the "French Manicure" Pedicure

This past weekend I went to a barbeque that had several young women in attendance.
They all had on flip flops (okay - flip flops =zoris for those who know) and they all had French manicured toes - aka "French Pedicure". I've been seeing this for years but this was the first time I was able to actually STARE at a bunch of French pedicured toes for a long time and CONTEMPLATE this fashion.

There are zillions of variations, but basically a French manicure (probably not even French in origin!) is a painted-white nail tip with sheer beige or pink polish over the whole nail. It accentuates the difference between the WHITE part of your nail and the skin-colored part. But aren't most toenails kept short enough that there isn't any white part protruding? So why CREATE a white part? To me, it kind of makes the toenails look longer than they are, which in turn makes me think about being in bed with that person, and being scratched on my legs by her long French pedicured toenails! Ick!

I can see wearing pale pink or sheer beige polish on the toes (though I much prefer far less classy colors, like bubblegum pink, blood red and glittery magenta) but I'm hesitant about the white tip.

Still, maybe I will try it sometime soon; I hate to knock it without giving it a go.
I kind of want to see what this ubiquitous trend is all about.

Un-natural 4th of July Weather

Last night at 9:30pm I was sitting on a blanket at Crissy Field, waiting for the fireworks to start, dressed in tights, jeans, socks, sneakers, a thermal, a tee shirt, a hoodie and a down jacket plus a knit cap, and kind of wishing I had one of those scary ski masks, too - IT WAS THAT COLD!

I grew up in Southern California. The 4th of July was always, always hot.
LA and San Francisco: when you look at them on a map, or when you take the quick one-hour long flight, they seem so close. Weatherwise, they may as well be on different PLANETS. Hell, they may as well be orbiting around different SUNS. I just felt so strange bundled up for winter, sitting in an enormous field of grass, with the damp wind making my cheeks and nose wish they were under a ski mask.

My boyfriend and I were huddled together discussing high finance, also known as the hypothetical "How much would you pay for coffee right now?" game.
We decided we should have been there with a Zojirushi thermos of hot chocolate, auctioning off cups of it.
"I would pay $7 happily," I said, especially if it was
Dagoba Organic Chocolate's Xocolatl hot chocolate with chiles and cinnamon.

On Man Purses

Are you man enough to carry this pink striped bag?

Farmers Market Fashion

I love to look at what women are wearing during my weekly foray to the Farmers Market at San Francisco's Ferry Plaza. There's not much to look at, since everyone is in their sloppy Saturday jeans and ill-fitting tops, but I try.
But then this woman walked by in her beautiful, vibrant sari and choli. The fabric was floating in the breeze and she looked AMAZING!