Runaway In LA

keep austin weird

2018-11-09T14:17:00.000-08:00

Confirmed: everything is truly bigger in Texas.

In Austin, city law mandates that everyone must live and die by breakfast tacos. Bonus points if they’re trashy — trashy, as in doused in green chile queso. And naturally, no lettuce. My heart is racing 1,000,000 beats per minute just even thinking about it. As much as I want to pen a bottled love letter to breakfast tacos and then cinematically toss it into the Pacific Ocean at dusk, I’ll refrain.

Austin is more than a haven where lost souls go to find Tex-Mex nirvana — it’s the decidedly less pretentious kin of Williamsburg. Where Karen the Uber driver will drop the ever-endearing “ya’ll” mid-conversation and her car will smell like the candle section at TJ Maxx. Where it’s OK to savagely dig into a barbecue rib and chase with $3 Lone Star. Where you’ll restart your high school love affair with all things fringe and suede. Where you’ll feel a sudden urge to rewatch Death Proof and ingest chartreuse shots at a chili parlor.

And may we never forget: in Austin, the cowboy emoji is a religious symbol.*

*SOURCE: me

— D R I N K —

Manana Coffee: An ~extremely~ aesthetic cafe with pretty tiles, lush greenery, and a killer nitro cold brew. Go for your caffeine and Instagram fix.

Radio Coffee & Beer: Dogs. Hops & Grain IPA al fresco. All around feel-good memories.

Mezcaleria Tobala: If your idea of heaven is sipping on smoky mezcal in a cozy enclave that eeringly resembles a cross between a Louisana swamp and the Pirates of Caribbean ride at Disneyland, this is it.

Kitty Cohen’s: It’s the year 1971. You’re nursing a Singapore Sling poolside, surrounded by palm trees and neon signs. In the bathroom, you are greeted by a visual feast: a retro condom machine and a naked painting of Burt Reynolds. The dream team.

Shangri-La: Literally, $5 rum and cokes should be enough to win your heart. I repeat: FIVE DOLLARS. Imagine a grungy dive bar with subtle tropical oasis vibes, a photobooth for when you’re feeling tipsy and bold, and a ~massive~ backyard with, of course, a food truck.

— D O —

Go shopping at Blue Velvet. No, not the David Lynch movie, but a thrift store brimming with throwback treasures. AKA where you can score a vintage tie-dye Grateful Dead tee and ‘70s gingham blouse.

Channel your true “millennial tourist visiting Austin” at Hope Outdoor Gallery. Plus, if you ever want to name drop a “dope graffiti spot” on your next Tinder date, this would be it.

Catch a lofi dream pop band at Hotel Vegas. And don’t forget to strike a convo with a skater guy in the backyard who sold his iPhone for a flip phone and believes in “living off the grid”.

Slather on tanning oil at Barton Springs and people watch. Don’t question it — just do it.

Escape the heat and embrace the air conditioning at Blanton Museum of Art. Alternatively, you can also appreciate the actual art.

— E A T —

Torchy’s: A beloved staple in Austin’s breakfast taco scene. Disclaimer: you may fall into a deep, disoriented enchantment after consuming two “trashy” tacos and queso and chips in the span of 30 minutes.

Vera Cruz: Personally *my* favorite bfast taco joint. Yes, it’s served authentically out of a truck and yes, there will be an eternal wait, but it is 10000% worth it. Plus, I would MURDER for their mango agua fresca.

Marcelino’s: A true hidden gem for MAKE YOUR OWN breakfast tacos, where you can concoct everything from nopalitos (cactus!!) to spicy potatoes and chicharron.

Licha’s Cantina: For classic Mexican fare in a rustic home that definitely came out of a Pinterest “DREAM HOME” board.

Terry Black’s BBQ: After coming to the conclusion that we did NOT want to wait 5+ hours for BBQ, we settled on Terry Black’s. Manageable wait time, THE most divine mac and cheese, and brisket? Yes, yes, yes.

Via 313 Pizza: When you need a hiatus from BBQ and breakfast tacos, look no further than Detroit-style pizza. If you’re firmly team crust like me, prepare to indulge.

Until next time.

mixtape 002

2018-07-11T12:27:00.006-07:00

Well, it's officially been (over a) year since my last music post, and honestly, nothing has changed at all....

Last summer, I was in the middle of a post-grad quarter life crisis where I was apartment and job hunting — and to a degree, also searching for my long-lost sanity. Then, magic happened: I signed the lease to my dream central-AC/laundry-in-unit apartment in the millennial mecca of Williamsburg. I landed my first job, copywriting at a digital advertising agency and became a slave to Slack notifications and foreign adult concepts such as "401k plan" and "health insurance benefits". I somewhat found sanity, you could say.

Along the way, I lost my iPhone twice (first, at the company holiday after-party in Brooklyn, and two weeks later, at a bar in Mission District in San Francisco on New Year's Eve), got laid off, lost a Fujifilm disposable camera in the back of an Uber in Mexico City, lost my favorite choker necklace somewhere in Austin (most likely at a beer garden), and now, I'm also splitting with my apartment due to "creative differences".

It's surreal how I'm in the same exact position as I was just one year ago. Back to square one. Back to wondering if all these recent events are due to the nature of ~cosmic timing~. I often romanticize the concept of "going with the flow", but at the same time, I'll admit that it is, well, a nightmare. Yet, at the end of the day, I still believe that what is meant to be, is meant to be. No, I don't know where I'll be living in a month's time, nor do I know where I'll be working, but I trust in fate to show its colors soon. Or at least, give me a hint? You have no idea how incredibly restless I am sitting at hipster coffee shops day-by-day freelance writing and sending my friends memes. I also once caught myself logging onto LinkedIn at 10 PM on a Thursday — yes, I have reached an all-time-low. Save me.

Anyway, here's a mix of very vibe-y tunes I've been listening to non-stop. Enjoy!

T H E P L A Y L I S T

1. You Don't Have To Worry by Doris & Kelley ↬ for makeout sessions on a velvet couch in a Hermosa Beach basement in the year 1967

2. Fire In The Water by Pond ↬ for post-beach showers and the magic hybrid of coconut oil and Maui Babe tanning oil

3. Faith In Strangers by Andy Stott ↬ for riding the G train at rush hour next to an attractive Brooklynite whose cologne smells like flannel blankets and a 2007-era Abercrombie store

4. já é verão by eeevee ↬ for Copacabana daydreams and Googling "how to pronounce caipirinha"

5. Call It Fate, Call It Karma by The Strokes ↬ for refreshing your email inbox 100,000 times, authoring infinite cover letters and resumes

6. Lonely Zone by Vansire ↬ for texting Your Crush™ at 12:27 AM, eternally waiting for the red symbol of instant gratification

7. Mio Amore by The Flamingos ↬ for ice slushies and tater tots at a Sonic drive-in somewhere in the desert

8. Honey, Honey by Pierre Lalonde ↬ for cabernet sauvignon + camembert by the Seine, rummaging through 1 euro clothing bins in the Marais

9. Heartbroken In Love by Bones & Bleecker ↬ for your Big Summer '18 Mood (also tentatively known as 24/7 Mood)

10. The Spell of a Vanishing Loneliness by Cornelius ↬ for PTSD-flashbacks to the historic night you met a particular psych rock band at Mexico City dive bar

*PS: collage was made from '67 issue of House & Garden, '90 issue of Celebrity Sleuth, '92 issue of ID, and '93 issue of Interview :)

down in mexico (city)

2018-06-29T15:05:00.001-07:00

Rule #1 of traveling in Mexico City: change your Tinder bio to "can some1 plz teach me Spanish".

Mexico City. Where to even begin?

A beer called Bohemia. Worm salt-dipped orange slices. That Japanese psychedelic rock band you meet at a dive bar in Roma Norte. Two girls lost somewhere in the cobblestone streets of Santa Catarina. Unidentifiable salsas. Shadow play at the Blue House (note: Frida Kahlo is a Cancer, Diego Rivera is a Sagittarius). Your Kodak disposable camera: last seen in the back seat of Maricela's Uber. 58 Google Translate tabs open. Text exchanges with your Brooklyn Crush™ (topics of discussion: tacos, rain, Seamless, 80s synth music). The name "Axel". One (drunken) ramen night. 20 peso entry fee for a club named "Memphis". A surreal pit stop at 7/11 at 2:32 AM. Painted souvenir skulls and tagged alleyways. Belated birthday wishes. Todos vestidos y sin lugar a donde ir. Tacos (al pastor) for eternity.

This affair all began with a cheap plane ticket ($250, bless you Kayak.com) and a desire to celebrate my 23rd birthday somewhere relatively ~foreign~ and well, anywhere but NYC. My previous Mexico experiences were contained to family vacations in Cancun and Cabo, aka THE epitome of college spring break party destinations aka THE antithesis of me as a human being. In contrast, the Mexico City mood board is the opposite — think of a rich contemporary art scene, the architect’s cloud nine, cozy dive bars turned expat watering holes… and also where English is barely spoken. My Spanish knowledge* came exclusively from Google Translate, and it also didn’t help that most locals assumed I was also native. Or, as the employee at the Catedral Metropolitana once historically asked me, “Why do you look Latina?” Answer TBD.

*By “knowledge”, I mean a very extensive vocabulary that includes “uno mas”, “la cuenta por favor”, and “sí”.

WHAT TO DO

Swipe on Tinder and brand the experience as “international dating research”. You will discover multiple men with the name “Axel”, which also coincidentally sounds like the name an alt-rock musician would give to his 3-year-old son. (NOTE: say yes when your matches offer to “teach you Spanish”)
Indulge in the art of mezcal at a moody, candlelit hipster bar:

Step 1: Sip mezcal
Step 2: Consume orange slice in dipped in worm salt
Step 3: Chase with a light Mexican beer
Step 4: Repeat until you send embarrassing late night text messages to your Brooklyn Crush™

Immediately tip 50 pesos to the attractive guy in the mariachi band at Cafe de Tacuba
Have PTSD-flashbacks to the memory of mariachi bands serenading you in public
Wander into a panadería by the freeway near Parque España and have an emotional breakdown on what pastries to buy (the answer: concha bread)
Uber ~literally~ everywhere because it’s cheap, then proceed to silently despise NYC and its everyday $20 Uber pool rides
Take approx. 40,242 photos at the famed House of Tiles
Satisfy your modern art craving at Museo Jumex and take approx. 10,893 more photos just in the bathroom alone
!! VERY IMPORTANT: book your ticket to the Frida Kahlo Museum online in advance so you can casually pull up in your Uber, skip past the line of 50+ people, and feel like you are a B-List Hollywood celebrity!
Explore the vibrant Ciuadela Market — *the* paradise for artisanal, locally handcrafted souvenirs + goods. Your loot: mango coconut body soap and a black-and-white painted Day of the Dead skull
Accidentally consume a suspicious green salsa at Casa de los Tacos that set your soul on fire
Meet a Japanese psych rock band named Cornelius at a dive bar in Roma Norte. Suffer yet again another PTSD-flashback of their manager from Beverly Hills trying to hit on you but tragically failing at it. (NOTE: months later, a Cornelius song will appear on your Spotify Discover Weekly)
Get approx. 3 hours of sleep before your flight back to NYC because you will go on a Tinder date with your best friend that will result in 3 mezcal shots, 2 beers, paying 20 pesos to dance at a club named “Memphis”, a missing denim jacket, a missing hotel room key, and the hotel front desk employee asking why your best friend is asleep in the lobby.

WHAT TO EAT

Cafe de Tacuba: Pictursque stained glass windows. Live music C/O a mariachi band. Traditional Mexican fare.
Churrería El Moro: Churros + chocolate dipping sauce = cures everything.
Lalo!: Chilaqueles. Coffee. Enough said.
La Casa de los Tacos: The name says it all. Infinite salsa offerings. Beware of *the green one* that made life flash before your eyes.

WHAT TO DRINK

La Clandestina: My ~unofficial~ favorite bar in CDM — to the point where we went twice in a row. Come for your 411 in everything mezcal, shabby-chic speakeasy vibes, Jesus candles, and a surprising clientele of American expats and tourists.
Bosforo Mezcalaria: Less touristy, more local mezcal watering hole. For the brave-hearted, order the crickets.
Félix: Well-crafted cocktails, marble countertops, a rather fashion-type crowd.
El Palenquinto: The “sister bar” to La Clandestina. Order a beer or (and) mezcal and enjoy the ambience that is described as a hybrid between a dive bar and an underground cave.
Licorera Limantour: Not to be dramatic or anything, but I may have had *THE* best cocktail of my 23 years of life here. This is mixology at its finest — imagine the best of the best tiki cocktails fused with the elixir of magic: mezcal. My tip: order anything with coconut. You will thank me.

Until next time.

the new orleans escape

2017-09-14T14:45:00.002-07:00

Get your fortune told. Drink alcohol out of a plastic alligator cup. Have an exisitential crisis over live jazz.

Experience a little thing called "Southern hospitality".

Number of Confederate flags spotted and that somehow still exist in year 2017: 4 (approx)

Number of times cheese and grits were consumed: not enough

Number of voodoo love potions purchased: 1

One glass of Cajun spiced rum: not for the faint-hearted. The Airbnb from literal hell. Poet for hire on Frenchman Street. Swamp-tousled hair, Louisiana edition. Plantations, palm readings, po-boys. Slow mornings, long nights. That Tom Hanks-narrated documentary on World War II. Sudden rainfall. Pastel walls: the Instagram dream. Seeking refuge with cheese fries. Bus ride naps. A Snapchat from a boy that makes your heart heavy, then lips coated in confectionary fairy dust. Star-shaped sunglasses and its tragic demise. Memories of Paris, memories of Madrid. The phrase "let the good times roll" (why).

Up until recently, my only knowledge of New Orleans came from pornographic food scenes in Chef (see here and here for similar examples). Then, five days in NOLA happened. It was not only a "I survived college!!!" celebatory trip, but the long-awaited American reunion of three girls and one fateful European spring break expedition — last seen together: Marrakesh Menara Airport in Morocco, April 2015. Instead of daydrinking in Sevilla and riding camels in the Ourika Valley, we went for the more domestic (and less-likely-to-do-damage-on-your-bank-balance) route this time around. Plus, with NOLA's distinct French/Spanish flair, you might as well pretend you're buying cheap wine at Monoprix and falling in love with the waiter at Los Artesanos 1902. Not like that happened or anything.

DAY ONE

It's broad daylight, but something feels off on St. Phillips Street. Your Uber driver drops you off and warns you to be careful in the neighborhood at night. Across the street, a corner convenience market, painted baby blue. Men, leaning against the wall. They stare.

Your abode: an apparently historic 182-year-old Creole cottage in Treme — "the birthplace of jazz", according to the Airbnb listing. The bathroom door will have a "gentlemen" sign, sheets will be mysteriously stained and one toothbrush will be discovered tucked between the extra blankets. Luxury living.

Quickly discover that the the promised "four block walk" to the French Quarter is not equivalent to a NYC "four block walk". 6pm, approx: first catcall of the trip, right outside your door. At last!!! You were beginning to get worried.

Bourbon Street is essentially Greek Row, adult edition. As you will learn, public drinking is legal in New Orleans. Everyone carries a plastic cup — teeming with liquid magic — in the way Parisian It girls wear wicker baskets and gingham pants. The street feels mysteriously sticky under your Sam Edelman sandals. From a balcony, a group of dad-types in Vineyard Vines and Chino shorts are attempting to relive their glorious fraternity days by luring in young twenty-somethings. How incredibly tempting.

Priorities first: actually not alcohol, but bug spray. AKA sign #11 you are going through a foreign process called “growing up”. Well, that and the fact that mosquito bites are the tenth circle of hell.

Priority number two: hunting down the dinner spot. Tonight — the famed Gumbo Shop with 1.9k Yelp reviews and counting. As expected, there is a wait. Also as expected, you wait in line because you will virtually do anything a Yelp Elite member tells you to do. Hits: crawfish etouffee, chicken andouille sausage gumbo, seafood okra gumbo, warm bread pudding with whiskey sauce per the waiter’s rec — essentially, everything. Honorary mention to the innocently named Saint Peter’s Punch you definitely should not have consumed on an empty stomach.

Retreat back to your Airbnb via Uber because you would rather step on Legos than walk at night through your questionable Treme neighborhood. It is some time around 10 PM. Across the street, more men have gathered at the convenience market. Again, they stare.

Devise an award-winning, bulletproof security system by pushing two armchairs in front the door. Repeat said security system for the next five nights.

Find a pair of glittery pink star-shaped sunglasses. Take multiple “seductive” selfies with them, just because.

Overheard on the TV, from a strangely surreal ‘90s karate movie: “Why don’t I show you some mercy and make you my boy toy?”

DAY TWO

It’s a 45 minute wait for Stanley — typical brunch scenario. Waste time by wandering into the tourism office and inquiring about swamp and plantation tours. Drop by the St. Louis Cathedral that you once mistakenly referred to as a “castle”. Sit in air-conditioned silence remembering recent sins.

Spotted: poster with the phrase “Laissez les bons temps rouler”. Yes, three years of high school French and one semester abroad in Paris has failed you.

At last, the table is ready! Stanley reminds you typical NYC brunch digs — marble tabletops, fresh flowers, intricate tile floors, empty glasses of the ragingly popular Bloody Mary. Your table view: Jackson Square and group of frat-type boys who are purposely ruining your Instagram shot. What to order: the Beaux Bridge Benedict — housemade boudin sausage (!!!), ham, cheese, poached eggs and hollandaise song on French bread. Heaven.

Quickly discover that NOLA is the hot spot destination for bachelorette parties, as demonstrated by hoards of women in matching hot pink tees, tiaras and sashes. Your favorite will be a T-shirt that reads “CHA-CHING” (followed by three dollar signs)

The best way to explore the French Quarter: ditch the map. Take a peek into the Pharmacy Museum, enjoy a live jazz performance outside Cafe Beignet. One fluffy white cat, napping by the window. Photoshoots and pastel walls.

The hidden gem of NOLA: Voodoo Authentica — your one and only destination for all things voodoo. It’s far from a tourist trap, instead tucked on the quiet Dumaine Street. Imagine stepping into Lana Del Rey’s witching chamber — candles, spell books, jars of mysterious powder substances, wooden masks, vintage medieval photos, beaded necklaces, coins and dollar bills scattered about.

The offerings are plenty: voodoo dolls, bath salts, gris gris bags, candles for peace, fortune and good hair… and your personal favorite — potion oils. As the shopkeeper explains, every potion oil is handmixed by authentic practitioners using family recipes. Each potion is blessed with a different intention, ranging from Fertility and Safe Travel to Beauty and Good Fortune. You ask the shopkeeper what the difference is between the Follow Me Boy and Love Potion No 9 potions. According to her, the former is for lust and sexual energy, while the latter is for attracting romance and self-love (naturally, you read this as attracting “true love” and therefore decide that you need to own this potion immediately). She also notes that the best-selling potion oils are Happiness and Love Potion No 9, and while the oils can be used in different ways, most simply use it as an oil perfume. A few drops on your pulse points and voila.

Romantic life status: literally buying a love potion at a voodoo store. Oh, and a candle called “The Spirit of Writing”.

At last, time for the iconic Cafe Du Monde beignets and (iced) coffee. Oh, how you still dream of those pillowy, sugar-coated blessings sent from cloud nine. Surprisingly, there is barely a wait — you swoop into the first empty table you see, still dusted in white powdery remnants from its former occupants (FYI it is cash only and while on your stroll to the ATM across the street, you will get that Snapchat from That Boy that causes you to have a certain emotional reaction)

Beignet rating: 10,000/10. Cafe Du Monde iced coffee: 10,000/10.

Oh, and the psychic. One must never forget about the psychic. She sits at Jackon Square, preying on the innocent with dreamy promises of palm readings and beyond. Post-sugar high, you and your friends decide to bite the bullet and get your fortune told. Just for fun, you thought naively.

$75 later, you find yourself:

Placing money into a seashell
Chanting your name three times
The psychic telling you she’s using her ‘special’ Native American tarot card deck specifically for you but not really explaining why
Terrible tarot card shuffling
Engaging in forced small talk as the psychic tells you she is in a “particularly good mood today” because her daughter got promoted as predicted, then mentions how she’s in her 60s, which no one believes because she legitimately looks 40

What you actually paid real, actual cash for:

The psychic claiming you will have exactly one daughter
The psychic claiming you will give birth through “unconventional methods” AKA most likely, in a bathtub with a doula
The psychic advising you to drink more smoothies to cure bad moods
The psychic advising you to buy more heels so you look taller
Th psychic advising you to buy a spiked cuff/choker so you can “tap into your kinks”
The psychic predicting that your future job will be in oil refineries in Alaska
The psychic predicting that you will meet your future husband, named Carlos OR Carl, at a salsa bar and that he will be a “bad dancer”. He will also be five years older.

Recover from The Infamous Psychic Incident at the historic Napoleon House. In 1821, the Mayor of New Orleans offered the home as a refuge for Napoleon Bonaparte, though the emperor never made it from abroad. Today, Napoleon House is a restaurant teeming with rustic decor, quiet European charm and a very good Pimm’s Cup according to your friend Amy. Oh, and the po-boy sandwiches — a must order. For the brave-hearted, the alligator po-boy. For something safe, the shrimp.

Also, debate: is alligator red or white meat?

DAY THREE

This morning, you will get your first taste of yet another underrated NOLA spot: Feelings Cafe. Everything, from the name to the mismatched retro decor (vintage Elvis posters!!!) and the bottomless mimosa brunch, is 120% your personal brand. It will be raining, so you will have to tragically swap the Marrakesh-esque outdoor patio seating for indoors instead.

The waitress is young — 23, incredibly upbeat for 11 AM, and feels your soul with sunshine. She approves of your brunch choice: a Croque Monsieur-type pastry with jam that you still dream of today. And of course, one must not forget about mimosas to drown your unemployed sorrows in.

At the end of the brunch: “Would you like your mimosa to-go?”

Walk off your mid-day tipsiness in Marigny — NOLA’s own version of Williamsburg, if you must. There’s killer street art and a vintage boutique called Blue Dream, complete with a red neon SATAN’S PSYCHIC sign. Obviously, you are sold. Eventually, you stumble upon an unassuming bakery/coffee shop to get your caffeine (and sweets) fix. The chocolate cake does wonders. You end up striking a conversation with the guy next to you — supposedly, he’s in a country band that has toured everywhere from Portland to your very own Brooklyn Bowl. Unfortunately, you also forget to note his name. And his band name.

On the Uber ride over to the World War II Museum, you finally learn from your driver why the museum is particularly so acclaimed in New Orleans. Not only did a previous Uber driver recommend it, but the waitress at Feelings Cafe had also given her nod of approval (she also emphasized the “cool Tom Hanks movie”). Your eleventh grade AP US History class apparently left this out, but Higgins boats — the same models used on D-Day in Normandy — were designed and tested in New Orleans during WWII. Decades later, the WWII Museum became a reality, honoring the Allied victory.

Your number one regret: not allocating enough time to properly explore the WWII Museum. It is endless, filled with extensive exhibits and interactive displays. You get emotional while in the Pacific Theater Gallery and wish that more American history classes touched upon the atrocities that happened in not only Japan, but Southeast Asia.

And about “that Tom Hanks movie” that every Yelp reviewer could not shut up about… it is, without a doubt, worth the extra admission. It’s an interactive history documentary narrated by the Supreme Tom Hanks himself, featuring a cast of Hollywood nobodies such as Kevin Bacon, Viola Davis, Jesse Eisenberg, Tobey Maguire, Neil Patrick Harris and of course, Kevin Jonas. You almost fall asleep in the theater due to the A/C and leather seats, and silently punish yourself for even daring to snooze during a Tom Hanks film.

During a DIY walking tour in the Garden District, you will pass by two notable locations:

A pastel pink mansion where Mark Twain reportedly partied in 1886 aka The Original Fraternity House
A Greek Revival mansion where you will find a group of modern day frat guys, drinking beers and listening to loud music on a balcony in a guesthouse that most likely used to be the slave quarters back in the day. They notice you and your friends walking by and invite you up for a brew. Yet again, how incredibly tempting.

DAY FOUR

It’s an eternal bus ride to the Whitney Plantation, located in the parish of St. John The Baptist. You will also recently learn that Louisiana is divided into “parishes”. You think you prefer the word “county” better. Oh, and you will be listening to music via $8 earbuds from Rite Aid.

Venturing through a former slave plantation is surreal, somber and unsettling. For starters, the Whitney is the only plantation tour that actually focuses on the slaves and their lives on the plantation — a narrative that is often overshadowed by stories of the slaveowners themselves.

Back in the city, your bus driver will point out Whole Foods and you’re not sure why but you also don’t question it.

Recuperate at Cane & Table: arguably the cutest, most Instagram-worthy bar in NOLA that you hesitate even name dropping because you want to keep it on the DL. Reasons to go: outdoor patio seating that makes you feel like you’re in old Havana, lush tropical plants and (strong) cocktails dripping in coconut rum goodness.

What trip to New Orleans is complete without waiting in line — in the rain — for a jazz show at Preservation Hall? Of course, it will be worth the wait and yes, you will fall in love with the pianist and spend the entire performance dreaming about your future life/family with him. It’s only natural.

The cycle continues: more drinks at a seedy, neon-lit bar on Bourbon Street called Tropical Isle that looks like it belongs in a Harmony Korine movie. You order the suspiciously titled Hand Grenade which claims to be New Orleans’ “most powerful drink”. And even better, you decide to order The Horny Gator for round two — a sugary confection that promises to “make you a better lover”. No word on that front yet. It will come with a plastic toy alligator that, yes, you name after your Airbnb host.

DAY FIVE

You wake up and realize you have lost your voice (thank you, Hand Grenade + Horny Gator). But nothing matters in the world anymore because you’re about to do the most ~Southern~ tourist crime ever and embark on a swamp tour. Complete with alligators. You like to pretend that you did not drive by houses with numerous Confederate flags on the way there.

Honey Island is your literal nightmare: mosquitos and humidity. But, a chance to watch your tour guide feed marshmallows to gators and speed down the bayou in adventure film-fashion is worth every bite and sweat-drenched selfie.

Toast to the last night of your NOLA getaway with dinner and drinks at Sylvian. A fried chicken sandwich will be involved. Try to ignore the fact that you will be returning to NYC in less than twenty-four hours and have a physical breakdown while carrying your luggage up six flights of stairs in the middle of May. Reality... sucks.

So long, NOLA.

And for a visual recap...

mixtape 001

2017-07-10T07:36:00.003-07:00

Life as a college grad who is currently "between jobs" is especially thrilling.

During normal business hours, you're most likely watching Twin Peaks then writing cover letters at two in the morning. Glassdoor and Linkedin are your top visited sites. You find yourself Googling things such as "resume power words" and "how to move to Spain at 22 with no real income". The phrase "I'd like to add you to my professional network" haunts your dreams. And just like when you were in college, you are still not getting the recommended 7 hours of sleep!

Here are the tunes getting me through this period of adulthood stalemate...

T h e P l a y l i s t

The Bookhouse Boys by Angelo Badalamenti ↬ for something black as midnight on a moonless night, a slice of cherry pie, lacey pretty things

You Might Be Sleeping by Jakob Ogawa + Clairo ↬ for those who love to love, fall in love

A Man and a Woman by The Mystic Moods Orchestra ↬ for groovy night dresses, sharing milkshakes at your favorite hole-in-the-wall diner

Latin'ia by The Sentinels ↬ for napping to ocean waves, playing pretend paradise, forgetting you are trapped in downtown Manhattan

Planet Junior by The Babe Rainbow ↬ for spacing out

Tell Me (What's On Your Mind) by Allah Las ↬ for your classic summer anthem
A Faded Picture by The Seeds ↬ for open windows on a summer night, lighting a tobacco flower candle, one bottle of malbec
El 4 5 6 by Los Brito ↬ for obsessively checking plane ticket prices, planning your next getaway, remembering you're broke
Instant Calm by Washed Out ↬ for morning caffeine and traffic daydreams

portland daze

2017-05-09T21:08:00.000-07:00

Fred Armisen and Carrie Brownstein made me do it.

Freshman year it was LA. Sophomore year it was Europe. Junior year it was Puerto Rico.

And now...

Think to yourself: if “last spring break!!! of college!!! forever!!!” were a destination, what would it be? Not Portland, that’s for sure. Also, important clarification: and by Portland, I mean Portland, Oregon — yuppie utopia, vinyl wonderland, where cold brew is a blood type, brunch a sacred religion and Lyft drivers double as spiritual life coaches. OH and land of ~$7 cocktails~ that make you question your overpriced NYC existence. So, basically: not Portland, Maine.

I’d also like to mention that Portland makes for the perfect last-minute getaway. "Last minute" as in booking a red-eye to PDX from JFK, spontaneously dropping $50 on rain boots and feeling your Californian soul shatter to pieces and sending love letters to numerous Airbnb hosts in hopes of nabbing the ultimate bungalow (spoiler alert: it happens). But at that rate, I didn’t care — I just wanted an excuse to escape the city and savor my last moments of undergrad freedom. Sorry Punta Canta — you had my heart (and credit card) for a hot minute right there, but then I remembered Portlandia. Hipster television of my dreams.

THE PREFACE

Land in Portland some time around midnight. Airport is ominously quiet. Air strangely feels "fresh". Remember that it's 3 AM back in NYC — AKA your preferred haunting hour/time of the night where you're most likely downing a hard liquor and crying about your dating woes at a gentrified Williamsburg bar
Your Lyft driver is also from LA. Pleasantries are exchanged about weather and traffic — the classic combo. "It's chill here," he claims. He will also ask what Seamless is. As a NYC transplant, you are unsure how to explain such a sacred concept to him
Arrive at your Airbnb — location: Hawthorne Boulevard in SE Portland. Every "house" is really a bungalow and you are amazed at the endless stretch of concrete unspoiled by New Yorkers walking at a speed of 90 mph. You also suspect that your Airbnb host really likes gardening
Be forced into sleep-deprived small talk your Airbnb host. Unofficially brand her as the hippie witch cat lady on Hawthorne. Your quarters: a quaint corner bedroom on the first floor that somehow smells like your uncle's house in suburban Paris. Moment of redemption: she has a (black!) cat named Athena (you'll later give a five-star rating solely for Athena)
Get a ~good night's rest~, which means approximately five hours of sleep

THE HIGHLIGHTS

Expect to have unusually intimate conversations with every Portlandian. Not limited to:

The Bartender Who Belongs In Brooklyn: Listens to shoegaze and likes Bushwick. Asks your roommate why she is swiping on Tinder at the bar. Gives you a free. plate. of. fries. Bartender's choice: something with tequila
The Woodstock Hippie Lyft Driver: Was told she was going to die of brain cancer at age thirty-two. Follows Bob Dylan on tour and moves to NYC with her dog and a guitar. Is told she is not going to die of brain cancer. Moves to Miami to become a cocktail waitress and learns how to do kamikaze shots with tourists. Wants to adopt foster dogs and children. Tells me I have "good energy" and that she hopes we'll "run into each other in another lifetime"
The Lyft Driver From Montana: Just moved to Portland from Montana.
The Buffalo Exchange Employee Who Went To Coachella "First": Originally from San Diego. Owns a place in Palm Springs. Thinks Coachella is "overrated" nowadays
Leather Jacket Guy Sitting At The Bar: Once lived in LES with his ex-wife in the '80s. Doesn't seem to realize that LES in the '80s is the opposite of 2017 LES.
The Barista At Five Points: Thinks your look is "cool"

As a lifestyle blogger turned cosmopolitan travel writer probably once said: "brunch is a blood sport in Portland". They were not kidding:

For a temporary Scandanavian getaway, Broder on SE Clinton is the spot for Swedish brunch — try the aebeleskive (pancake balls dipped in ligonberry jam goodness) or the very Insta-worthy brekkie board (also, Bloody Marys — if you're into that sorta thing)
Come to Jam On Hawthorne for real, authentic Portland locals getting their rainy brunch fix and heaping portions of Nutella French toast, hashbrowns and eggs — American breakfast fare to the max
Tin Shed is brunch in your grandmother's garden — don't skip out on homemade buttermilk biscuits and rosemary mushroom gravy (also, when in doubt, order the Naughty, not the Nice)

It is perfectly acceptable to Google "why does every restaurant in Portland have Secret Aardvark Hot Sauce???? And is it really better than Cholula???"
One must only order coffee with macadamia nut milk
Buy Beach Boys and Allah-Las on vinyl even though you don't own a record player (but swear one day you will)
No one believes you are 22 and will card you. Every. Single. Time.
Re-invent your whole wardrobe/apartment because thrifting in Portland is a magical experience and you will ~likely~ go broke:

Zig Zag Wanderer: '60s and 70s pysch threads HEAVEN. Smells like incense. Soundtrack is a heavenly loop of Mamman Sani. Locally-made fragrances, healing crystals and retro postcards
Red Light Clothing Exchange: Expect to spend 39048248 hours rummaging through the racks. A healthy amount of perfectly worn-in band tees. A guy you went on one date with will text you in the dressing room and ask if you if you're free Wednesday at 1:15 AM
Living Threads Vintage: Higher price range, carefully curated selection. End up nabbing a '70s striped long sleeve for just $25 which also smells decidedly '70s

Crushed rose petals on wet pavement make for excellent photography
Warning: that one white man at the Portland Japanese Garden lecturing you on "Asian culture" because, as an Asian-American, you absolutely have no background knowledge
Befriend a guy from NYC who is in Portland for a job interview. He'll drown you in Yelp recommendations for Upper West Side bars (his 'hood) and you'll bond over a mutual love for Spotify's Discover Weekly algorithm (he will also have a girlfriend)
Pro-tip: Flying Cat Coffee has breakfast burritos for $6 and you will quickly discover the edible definition of pornography
Realize you are a weak human being when your roommate convinces you to download Tinder social for one night. Drown in a sea of regret when you see 329048 mutuals from high school who have since moved to Portland
It is perfectly acceptable to spend 30 minutes in front of a neon art piece at the Portland Art Museum for the perfect Snapchat as other tourists judge you
Your living nightmare is Blue Star's Mexican chocolate donut that is offensive to donuts everywhere and suddenly you would commit crime for Krispy Kreme
Is it dinner time already?

Pok Pok: Overrated, but you can pretend you are in a tropical Thai beach village for one night. The mango-coconut-vodka liquid concoction that was a better idea on paper. Honorary mention to the spicy Vietnamese (?) fish sauce wings that one should never eat on a first date, unless emergencies/cravings call. Suddenly you cannot stop thinking about your long awaited backpacking trip to SE Asia (one day...)
Por Que No: For surprisingly quality tacos that fulfill your never-ending desire for all things Mexican. Margaritas should come with a warning "do not text any boy after consumption" label. Guac is passing, ceviche satisfying.
Lechon: For you want to want to feel ~adult~ and have your first Argentine food experience. Pick your poisons wisely — Mal Humorado for reposado tequila, habanero and pineapple or El Vicente for mezcal and aperol. Debate if the couple next to you is a cougar/boy toy situation and feel shivers go down your spine when you see her stroking his cheek

From the Lyft driver who tried to self-promote his blog numerous times during the car ride: "Voodoo Donuts is overrated."
Constantly complain about how everything in NYC is so expensive compared to Portland while simultaneously paying for said prices and never learning how to set a weekly budget
Get mistaken as a native Portlandian twice (reasoning: going umbrella-less in the rain)
Pineapple gummies will never quite be the same for you ever again
Have your world collapse when you discover that Fred Armisen only lived in Portland during the summers to film Portlandia and feel betrayed by Hollywood and celebrity culture as a whole

And for a more visual recap of my Portland getaway...

one word

2017-04-30T17:10:00.001-07:00

I've always had a hard time being succint.

This is my attempt.

Where is your phone… inside

Your hair… everywhere

Your dad… hero

Your favorite food… adrenaline

Your dream last night… hungover

Your favorite drink… coconut

Fear… emptiness

Favorite shoes… barefoot

Favorite way to relax… travel

Your mood… evolving

I love… surprises

Where were you last night… paradise

Something you aren’t... adult

Wish list item… love

Where you grew up… california

What are you wearing right now… vintage

Something you hate… addiction

Friends… oxygen

Life… create

Regrets… everyday

Missing someone… always

27 notes on dating

2017-03-29T10:24:00.000-07:00

As seen in Bushwick.

Definitely not based on true stories.

You will avoid having “the talk” at all costs — until an unknown stand-up comedian at UCB asks if the two of you “are together”. It is 11 PM on a Thursday and the audience is six people. Your heart rate is approximately 2,000 beats per minute.
You will eventually have “the talk” and cry walking home from Ave C to Sixth Ave. You will also be wearing a leopard fur coat and it will be raining. Approximate phone call length with long distance best friend: 2 hours, 30 minutes.
The morning after and a Midtown tiki bar.
When in doubt, tequila.
The concept of dating a guitarist from a surf rock band is promising in theory. Both of you will mutually ghost. You will run into him outside a Bushwick thrift store seven months later. Hair update: tragically, still man-bun.
First date idea: watch a documentary about tickling.
Go to an obscure art museum that smells like incense and drips in pink neon. The only piece of art is a photo of a monk. It is 10 PM and there will be pillows on the ground. You will fall asleep for 20 minutes. Your date will be scared to wake you up. Both of you will pretend not to see the couple giving each other massages across the room.
When your date compares you to Ann Perkins, murder him. You are obviously a hybrid of Leslie/Tom/Donna.
You will get stuck inside a gritty LES bar bathroom. You will text your date to get the manager. To this day, door locks will traumatize you.
Scorpios are trained in the art of breaking hearts.
If your date uses the word “snuggle” in non-ironic context, murder him.
It is perfectly acceptable to ask your date’s place and time of birth in order to analyze his natal chart.
The requisite slow wallet reach.
“I feel like you have a really cool personal brand” will single-handedly be the hottest thing a boy has ever said to you.
Followed by: “You’d look really cute in a Hawaiian shirt.”
You will go on a double date. His best friend from California will be an excellent kisser.
If he doesn’t eat the pizza crust, abort immediately.
Your date will temporarily abandon you in the name of “I got us free tequila shots from drag queens”.
First date idea: get drunk at an absinthe speakeasy and reminisce about exes.
Go bar-hopping with your best friend on Valentine’s Day, drown your woes in Cupid’s Juice and be shocked when you don’t ~actually~ don’t cry over a boy.
To live on the edge, date a guy with read receipts.
Let him choose where to go — then conduct extensive research on Yelp to ensure that it meets gentrified Brooklyn standards.
You will share your poetry with him in a dimly lit bar and he will recite his favorite lines the next morning.
Wear a different perfume each time — Spiked Hot Cocoa for the Taurus, Passion Fruit for the Scorpio, Lavender for the Aries, Sex on the Beach for the Leo.
A makeout mixtape consisting of Triathalon and Tame Impala.
Preferred mode of communication with the opposite sex: memes.
Your gravestone will be engraved with the words: “right feelings, wrong time.”

paradise in puerto rico

2016-03-22T13:59:00.003-07:00

Spring ~~break~~ broke on the Island of Enchantment — four days of shattered expectations, liquid courage, and the living fear of Zika.

For college students, "spring break" translates to a limited glossary. That one movie with James Franco. Booze, bikinis, beaches. Mexico, Florida. Tanlines, followed by sunburns. In the eyes of many, Cancun — the nexus of party culture abroad — wins dream destination. That is, unless you're me and want to escape it all.

Enter San Juan, Puerto Rico.

While researching for potential getaways, Puerto Rico was initially not on my radar. Costa Rica however? Most definitely — until I discovered the horror story that is airfare prices (not too kind for the student budget). I toyed around with Bermuda at first — affordable, close to NYC — but ultimately ruled it out having visited there years earlier. Then I moved away from islands — what about New Orleans, Portland, or Nashville à la the Master of None episode where Dev whisks Rachel away on a weekend date? (If only)

But then again — why not Puerto Rico? For starters, this wasn't your cliché spring break destination, which is exactly what I wanted. You could still go shoes optional, sip on tropical cocktails, and sunbathe — all at once. But what matters is what you can experience only in Puerto Rico and nowhere else in the world. Hike in the El Yunque Rainforest, wander the alleyways of Old San Juan, kayak on a bioluminiscent bay — these are distinctly Puerto Rican, and no amount of wild, you-had-to-be-there beach parties can ever rival it.

Come tag along on my adventures in Puerto Rico!

And cue the piña coladas.

DAY ONE

Swap a rainy 5 AM in New York for a (surprisingly) overcast afternoon in San Juan. You will be forever grateful for that iced coffee you downed at JFK.
Settle into your temporary Puerto Rican abode — one private room in a rooftop terrace apartment (thanks Airbnb). You'll be in walking distance from Condado — the bustling hub of bars, hotels, and touristy fare — which you initially think you can manage. Initially. Across the street, a vacant lot teeming with jungly vines and uncut grass. A nail salon down the block. You spot your first (wild?) rooster, but you will be unaware of its impact over your sleeping schedule until later that night.
Slather on copious amounts of bug repellent lotion. Yes, lotion not spray — lotions have a longer staying power, which is especially crucial when combatting against the trifecta of mosquitoes, ticks, and fleas. Your secret weapon: Sawyer Premium Ultra 30 Insect Repellent Lotion. Zika virus, be warned.
Catch the public bus to Old San Juan. 75 cents per ride. Coins only. An elderly woman will spark up a conversation and wish you a pleasant trip. "California, but New York" and "four days" will become part of your daily vocabulary. Coming from a city of the jaded and the cutthroat, you'll quickly discover how welcoming Puerto Ricans are to foreigners.
Pop into Caficultura for the famed Puerto Rican coffee and Insta-worthy latte art. For the tropical tastebuds, CafiCoco is a must — a heavenly blend of coconut and caffeine goodness. Our waitress also recommends the 2 Nueces — crafted especially for the walnut lover. Order the French toast topped with pineapple jam and coconut flakes. Fluffy, dreamy, and the perfect meal to kick off an island adventure.
Stroll along the Old San Juan alleyways. Vibrant pastels, ornate balconies, and cobblestone streets will have you thinking Disneyland, but real life.
Attempt to visit Castillo San Cristóbal, only to get turned away because of the 6 PM closing time (this will be the first of many spontaenous traveling turned poor planning moments). Unfortunately, you will never get a chance to return.
The next practical step? Bar-hopping. OSJ is packed full of opportunities to get your alcohol fix on — but you will start with a $10 bottle of Palo Viejo rum, purchased from a tiny convenience market in Plaza Colon because, spring break.
Head to the cozy, urban chic La Factoría for mixed drinks and unexpected ingredients. The Lavender Mule — vodka, housemade ginger beer, and lavender infusion syrup — is creamy and sugary sweet. Your favorite will be the De Lo Mejor: tequila, housemade horchata, Barrilito rum, and triple sec. Four or five rounds pass by. Sometime in the night, you had a sip of Bacardi and Coke.
At La Taberna Lúpulo, the envrionment will noticeably change. Music is louder, clientele is rowdier, but you don't remember what you ordered. You understand why locals suggest this spot, though the crowd still seems decidedly American. According to Yelp: this is the best hole-in-the-wall for Caribbean beer.
Realize that Puerto Rico isn't New Yok and that the bus has since stopped running. Wander aimlessly around OSJ and ponder on how to get home. Download Uber app to discover that Uber doesn't exist on the island. Google Maps says you can walk — for an hour or more. Decide you need nourishment to continue on.
You're not sure exactly why, but you end up at Señor Frog's — otherwise the ultimate nightmare when sober, but a potential haven when inebriated. Fate intervenes and the hostess says the kitchen has closed for the night — your dreams for cheap pizza and greasy fries now dashed (the next morning, you will be relieved you never wasted a single dollar at such an establishment)
Somehow flag down a taxi that appears safe and unassuming. Rattle off address. Your driver will drop the ultimate bombshell: your street and area is known for prostitutes. You decide to worry about this piece of news later.
Collapse in bed, ready for beauty rest. Two hours later, the rooster from across the street will start calling. And every hour after.

DAY TWO

It's a miracle — you wake at seven AM sans hangover. For the first time in months, the bikini makes an appearance. Neoprene. Open toes. The unmistakable but familiar scent of sunscreen. More bug lotion. Your new uniform will be comprised of denim cut-offs and off-the-shoulder blouses. Goodbye winter knits.
The race for breakfast begins. Your tour bus is on the way — you've booked a rainforest and kayak combo package with Bespoke Lifestyle Management through Viator. There is a Subway on Ponce de León avenue — out of the question. Luckily, there will be a fruit stand on the street over. You will muster the courage to use the 1% Spanish you know. Fresh plums and ripe bananas for your morning grub. Gracias.
"What are you wearing?" your tour guide will text you. Moments later, an energetic man will jog up to you on the street and smother you in a surprise hug. This is your tour guide — Jerry. His enthusiasm and charisma: contagious.
The drive to El Yunque National Forest begins — the only rainforest in the US National Forest System. There will be one stop along the way at a convenience store. You discover the beauty and addictive nature of plantain chips — and the fact that Puerto Rico is not a US territory, but a US district.
The moment you enter El Yunque is the moment you leave behind reality. No cell service. Gray skies, no sunshine — this is a rainforest after all. The air is pure, refreshing. It will no longer feel like Puerto Rico, strangely enough. Jerry reassures the whole group: mosquitoes will not be a problem. Snakes and monkeys? Only in Costa Rica. Slippery Spanish moss will be the only root of your concerns.
Trek through the trails but linger behind to snap endless photos. The hike will not even be a "hike" — painless, flat, and innocent (I've had worse in Morocco). The destination: a tranquil waterfall pool, tucked away from the touristy La Mina Falls below (warning: it will essentially be a public bathhouse there) Shed clothes. Wish you hadn't lost your GoPro charger. Dip toes in rushing water — colder than expected, but with time becomes comforting. A few brave souls will dare to dive off the cliff into the waterfall pool. When in Puerto Rico, right?
Venture up eighty steps to the Yokahu Observation Tower. The view is spectacular, complete with intense Jurassic Park vibes. Emerge out of the rainforest, sneakers drenched in mud.
Pause for (late) lunch break at a local family-owned restaurant in Fajardo. Housemade mojitos, grilled steak, tostones, maduros, rice and beans — nothing will ever be able to compare back in the city. You will now hit food coma status and fall dead asleep on the bus ride over to part two of the tour.
Welcome to Fajardo. About an hour away from San Juan, Fajardo is the heart of Puerto Rico's bioluminescent bays — one of the few environments in the world where you can experience water luminescence. The cause? Oceanic plankton that emit glistening, blue light — magical in photos, and potentially magical in person, but the visibility depends on the intensity of the moonlight. Mode of transportation can either be through kayak or motorboat, but the time will always be nightfall.
You will "kayak" through a lush mangrove forest in pitch black darkness. Emphasis on "kayak" as one of the tour guides will end up attaching his kayak and row the entire way for you. You will silently be ashamed yet thankful for your lack of upperarm strength. Your tour guide will attempt to communicate in Spanglish, resulting in nervous laughter and moments of I don't understand what you just said but I will pretend I did from both parties (he will, however, let you touch his biceps at the end of the night)
The ride through the mangrove forest will feel surreal. The soundtrack is assorted — lapping water, mysterious buzzing from mangroves, the occasional scuffle of bumper to bumper (kayak) traffic. You will look up and witness a rarity: a black sky fringed by mangrove branches, the moon playing a game of hide and seek.
Let your hand graze the water. It is unexpectedly warm — like bath water. Your eyes may be fooling you, but you see a hint of luminescence, but certainly not the sparkling blue you had imagined. However, all is forgiven.
Return home. Shower. Change. Survive the seemingly endless walk to Condado at one in the morning. Spend $70 on drinks — watermelon sangria and tamarind and coconut mojitos to be specific.
Sleep. Peacefully, this time.

DAY THREE

The original plan: catch the ferry to the neighboring island of Vieques for your designated beach day. Scratch that — you will hit snooze twice, miss the 1 PM ferry, and must devise a backup plan on the spot. Where else to for white sand, crystal clear waters, and freshly cracked coconuts? You will want to escape San Juan, so back to Fajardo it was.
Fork over $100 for a taxi ride. Lament at how the concept of a"budget" no longer exists in Puerto Rico. The driver, however, will not know what Playa Seven Seas is — you'll speak with his friend on the phone, who will make the translation (he will also call you "oriental", but that's another story)
Seven Seas will be the opposite of your Caribbean beach dreams — in both good and bad ways. Expect more locals, less foreigners. More mangroves, less palm trees. Waters are calm, but drenched in kelp. No sight of coconuts. A slight campground vibe.
You will forget to bring a towel and use your shirt as makeshift one (after your trip, your shirt will still have remnants of tanning oil and you will regret everything)
Almost fall asleep while jamming to your Spotify "island grooves" playlist. Almost. Cross your fingers and hope that you will be at least one shade darker. Your proposed beach read — The Man In The High Castle by Philip K. Dick — will never go beyond page one.
Retire from sunbathing at the one and only restaurant nearby. Order a piña colada — the island's national drink for it was invented in Puerto Rico. You will fail to taste the rum, but that won't matter because it will read more like a pineapple/coconut milkshake. Whipped cream is a must. Sand is everywhere.
Wait for your taxi driver to return — he'll say it'll be an hour until he arrives. Marvel at the sunset on the beach. By now, most people will have left and only a handful remain. Seven Seas will feel even more private now. When night falls, you will retreat to the parking lot. The wait is eternal. Sand is still everywhere. Your scent: sunscreen.
You will never see parking lots the same way ever again.
As told by the locals: skip Vieques and head to Culebra for the true paradise beach experience. Keep in mind for next time.

DAY FOUR

The day has come. You will have to pack your life into a suitcase again, and this time, drag it all the way to Old San Juan. Bid farewell to your Airbnb. Vow that if Puerto Rico round two were to happen, you will book a hotel in OSJ. Nowhere else (well, perhaps Culebra)
Last ride on the bus. Another 75 cents.
Your last meal of the trip will be at El Jibarito, where you realize what it means to save the best for last. You'll show up to the restaurant half an hour before opening (thank you Yelp) with luggage in tow. The waitress will most likely feel pity for you and seat you early.
It's officially opening time! Order the rum punch. Looks will be deceiving: this will appear innocent on first sip — that is, until you drain the glass. Start with the beef empanadas, fried to golden perfection. For the main course, opt for bistec encebollado with mofongo and arroz guisado — cube steak with mashed plantains and yellow rice. Reviewers raved about the restaurant's house hot sauce and fortunately, the sauce will live up to its hype. Rating: five stars.
There will be some time to kill, so why not finally bite the bullet and get the coconut you've been coveting so long for? It will only cost $4 from the vendor in Plaza Colon and will satisfy all your island cravings just in time for the flight back home.
Knock out for the majority of your three hour flight (and consequently miss much of Sicario in the process). Wake up to bug bites on your legs — how, where, when, and why?
Dream of reuniting with your bed. And shower. And aloe vera.

lost in morocco

2015-07-10T19:02:00.001-07:00

A world like no other.

Freshly squeezed orange juice (with a serving of racial ignorance): ten dirham.

Three bottles of Moroccan argan oil: fifty dirham.

A treacherous hike in the Atlas Mountains, cat-calling vendors in the Souk, and ferocious (read: very, very sassy) camels: priceless.

One weekend, infinite memories—this is a feat that the magnificent city of Marrakesh has successfully mastered. Entering this unfamiliar realm is truly one of wonder. The hustle and bustle of the concrete jungle—an environment I've long grown accustomed to on American soil—is non-existent. In place is the historic Medina, home to snake charmers, donkey-drawn wagons, and of course, the inevitable tourist (aka yours truly). The last time I stepped foot on Africa was in 2009: a day trip to Tunisia which remains a murky blur. Marrakesh on the other hand? One could even say it is too memorable, leaving the traveler with stories so rich it'll eventually form into plane ticket number two. With that being said, I would return to Marrakesh in a heartbeat. For a chance to yet again discover the new and experience the awe? Count me in.

As an inexperienced globetrotter slash college student on a budget, traveling to Morocco meant two things: tour groups. My friends and I booked our weekend getaway through Bus2Alps, a tour company designed especially for study abroad students. Expect to indulge in the art of small talk as you meet fellow intellectuals. Expect to share a six-person chamber in your exquisite riad (hands-down the most five-star "hostel" you'll ever encounter). Expect to get five hours of sleep in your bunk beds because it will be impossible to call it a night when there is so much to see (also: Free WiFi). And if you want to jetset around the globe in true Kelsey-style, you'll book a 25 euro flight while fearing for your life (spoiler alert: this will be a reoccuring theme throughout the trip).

DAY ONE

Arrive late at the Marrakesh Menara Airport. Nervously shuffle through immigration. Exchange precious Euros for the equally colorful dirham (then proceed to wonder why US dollars can't be as pretty?)
Board the van to the Medina, the central square of Marrakesh. Past the Souk marketplace, follow a serpentine maze of dark alleyways. Check-in at the Equity Point Hostel, your humble abode for the weekend (note to self: you will be forced to find your way back later on. Remember the route accordingly)
Claim bunk bed (top, please). Marvel at the exquisite beauty of your hostel, which is actually a riad—a traditional Moroccan palace, complete with a swimming pool and gazebo.
Head up to the rooftop terrace for dinner. Be forced (and rather awkwardly) to join another table, but tension will smooth over once the food arrives. Fresh cucumbers and tomatos will be the first real vegetables you've eaten in days (for Spain was not kind to your health). Treat yourself to multiple servings of couscous. Add chicken and beef, marinated to perfection. Learn that mint tea (thé à la menthe) is the unofficial dessert. Pair with biscuit cookies.
Enjoy traditional tunes from a Moroccan band. Become anxious when they start selecting people to dance. A conga line will form. Get dragged into said conga line
End the evening with a dose of star-gazing.

DAY TWO

Embark on the rocky, hour-long jaunt towards the Ourika Valley. Visit the traditional home of a Berber family (later discover that the Berbers are people indigenous to North Africa).
Witness a dazzling tea ceremony performed by the (very adorable) Berber grandmother. Drink your 10th cup of mint tea. Experience the heaven that is homemade butter and olive oil. Drench bread in all its oily, buttery glory.
Make your first purchase in the jewelry shop downstairs: a silver cuff bracelet. Forgo the change because the seller does not have enough dirhams.
Hop on the van yet again. Stop alongisde a stretch of road deep in the valley. Realize this is where you'll be camel-riding. Set sail on your beloved camel—an extremely tall mother accompanied by her sweet-tempered calf. Hang on tightly as your camel is guided on a short trail. Drink in the sweeping view of the mountains and hills that alarmingly look similar to the landscape back home in Southern California. Congratulate yourself on avoiding a nasty injury or tragic fall.
Attempt to sneak a selfie with a fellow camel. Realize this was a terrible mistake when you are whacked in the side of the face. Resort to observing others meet their unfortunate fate.
Board the van. Arrive at the foothills of the Atlas Mountains. Begin the hike to the famed waterfalls (feel sympathy for the other girls in sandals and skirts). Discover this isn't your typical hike. Cross unstable, crooked bridges over rapid water—and multiple of them. Climb up countless stairs. Trek over rocks and boulders. Pray that you don't slip. Gladly accept the help of the sherpas, who heroically transport you across narrow walkways and river streams. Witness a woman hiking in wedges. Manage to get your feet soaked—too many times. Almost suffer a dangerous fall while ascending up a slippery trail. Mount up one ladder.
Deflect an uncomfortable conversation with another hiker. He will call you his "little sister" and promise "to take care you on the hike" (he will also be shirtless, sport a beer belly, and wear D&G boxers)
Wonder how you managed to finish the hike safe and sound. Collapse at the riverfront restaurant for a much rewarding lunch (chicken and couscous part deux). Accept some more mint tea. Realize that Moroccan salads will always triumph Caesar salads. Nourish on orange slices and cinnamon. Proceed to catch a few zzz's on the ride back home.
Wash up and zip over to the Jamaa El Fna Square in the Medina for a group dinner. Snap a requisite picture of you and your kebab. Eat too many fries. Swap study abroad experiences with tablemates. Allow yourself a curt stroll around the Medina before retreating back to the riad—as you will learn, the square is a hectic (and slightly intimidating) zoo without your trusty tour guides. Keep an eye out for pickpocketers lurking in the crowds. Avoid the ominous huddle of men gambling in the center of the square.

DAY THREE

Utilize the morning to explore the famous souk marketplace. Imagine sacks of endless spices. Quality leather goods, ranging from printed satchels to handcrafted sandals. Tins of Moroccan teas. Lamps and carpets for the home. Racks of patterned harem pants. Lots of cliche postcards and too much Comic Sans. Stray cats devouring scraps. One tiny kitten.
Browse the tantalizing array of silver jewelry. Fork over a significant amount of dirhams. Walk out with one necklace, two rings, and four bracelets. Purchase your dream Moroccan scarf—made specially in Marrakesh.
Pretend to ignore the ogling eyes of vendors and the occasional cat-call. Panic amidst the crowds of shoppers when you discover that a vendor has followed you down several shops. Take a breather once you manage to disappear into a sea of tourists. Tirelessly answer the same question posed by every vendor: "Where are you from? China?" Become accustomed to the soundtrack of men hollering out "ni hao" as you pass them. Realize you've taken America—the ultimate melting pot—for granted.
Reunite with your tour group at Medersa Ben Youssef, an ancient Islamic college teeming with intricate mosaics and sprawling archways. Prepare to experience complete architecture porn. Follow-up with a stop at the Museum of Marrakesh. Educate yourself on the history of Morocco's royalty.
Spend the afternoon at a local herb shop. Learn about the multiple remedies and products that Moroccans have relied on for centuries. Sample mint tea. Spontaneously buy pure black kohl eyeliner—favored by Moroccans as the kohl is thought to cleanse the eye. Purchase a jar of rose cream, promised to cure under-eye circles. Stock up on argan oil—a true multi-purpose elixir that can benefit both hair and skin. Give into three tubes of "magic lipstick"—a green, henna lipstick that delivers a different shade on every skin color (bonus: it will also be long-lasting, beating out your average YSL)
Surrender over thirty dirham for your first henna experience. Get your name written in Arabic. Shopkeepers will believe you are Indonesian (not Vietnamese). Snap an unnatural amount of photos featuring your new henna tattoo (it will live a long, hearty life—that is, until your trip to Greece)
Conclude the evening with dinner at the majestic Cafe Arabe. Nostalgic American middle school hits will play—think Kanye West oldies and the like. Order beef tajine for the main course and chocolate soufflé for the dessert. Blissfully die in food heaven. Enjoy the unforgettable Moroccan sunset from the rooftop lounge. Bid Marrakesh aideu and make a vow to return.

one / two / three / four / five (similar) / six / seven / eight

Marrakesh is certainly no jaded, monochromatic NYC. This is a destination of remarkable culture and vibrant hues—warm colors that range from coral pinks to tangerine orange. Naturally, an outfit inspired by the streets of Marrakesh must mimic the palette. Save the all-black for London and break out a pair of striking printed trousers. It's always safer to err on the modest side when it comes to dressing in Morocco—so reserve the racy cut-outs and bandage frocks for another day. A more appropiate option? Consider a textured lace top complete with lasercut detailing. Mix in a distressed denim jacket for the evening breeze—especially essential if you're traveling in the spring. Deter friendly thieves with a simple, understated bag that can be worn across the body for extra security (and make sure to always zip). Opt for comfortable walking shoes to fully maximize your explorations; a pair of sling-back flat sandals does just the trick. Your vacation uniform has never looked better.

So long, Marrakesh. May we meet again.

merchant of venice

2015-06-10T18:20:00.002-07:00

Still waiting for (season two) of Marco Polo...

For carbs, canals, and culture, Venice is the dream destination—that is, if watching The Thief Lord at eleven didn't already capture your heart (mixing young Aaron Taylor-Johnson with cinematic shots of Venice is dangerous I tell you) Charming storefronts, undiscovered alleyways, enthralling architecture... what more does a weekend getaway need? Take my word for it: Venice is truly a paradisiac escape. This is both a city of still serenity and bustling life, a city where one can enjoy a glass of prosecco in solitude but bask in the soundtrack of passing gondolas and lapping water (and yes, even the occasional, rambunctious tourist). Also on the menu? Sightseeing the Hollywood stars. Unfortunately for me, the day I left Venice was also the day Tom Hanks and Felicity Jones were filming Ron Howard's The Da Vinci Code sequel, Inferno... and conveniently near my hotel too. Oh, what I would have given to sneak a photo with the trio!

My number one tip for exploring Venice? Travel on the off-beaten path. For once, getting lost is part of the itinerary—and sometimes it is the unexpected that harbors the most hidden surprises. And let's be real: you might end up lost whether you like it or not, so the key is to simply craft an adventure out of it. Amidst the serpentine street mazes are a trove of wonders big and little. Don't let Venice's innocent size fool you; there are many spots to delve into and discover.

And if you want to explore Venice Runaway In LA-edition, here is your step-by-step guide ;)

Arrive at the airport (aptly named after Marco Polo) and attempt to call an Uber, but then embarassingly remember that Venice isn't NYC or LA. Defeated, embark on a more appropiate water bus to your hotel in San Marco

Forget (or rather, refuse) to pack an umbrella and water-resistant shoes the weekend it rains in Venice. Apologize to trusty Converse sneakers for what they are about to suffer through

Stroll around the famed Piazza San Marco; snap inevitable photos of Doge's Palace and the Bell Tower (but forgo the Basilica because the line is a nightmare)

For lunch, brave the (confusing) streets and seek refuge at Osteria Alla Staffa. Reward yourself with buttery linguine and fresh mussels, paired with a Venetian spritz (composed of prosecco, liquor, and sparkling water)

Soak in a magnificent view of the Grand Canal from the Rialto Bridge. Try and pretend there isn't a Hard Rock Cafe a few feet nearby

Consider forking over 40 euros for a gondola ride, but then decide to conserve your funds after the rain starts pouring (not exactly setting the stage for a "romantic" afternoon)

Devour tiramisu at I Tre Mercanti and proceed to order the "chocolate salami" believing it to be a unique fusion of actual chocolate and salami (spoiler alert: there will be no meat involved)

Spontaneously take a peek into Libreria Acqua Alta, arguably the best hidden gem of Venice (and essentially the Italian sibling of LA's The Last Bookstore) Prepare to fall in love with this unusual, bizarre bookstore full of vintage Italian novels, trinkets, and posters. Also featuring: books nestled in bathtubs and gondolas. A cozy reading nook overlooking the canal. Roaming cats. Purchase antique postcards as a souvenir because you can't read Italian. Wander further to the outdoor patio and walk up the staircase of books for an unforgettable treat ;)

Board yet another water bus over to the nearby islands of Burano and Murano; Burano for its photogenic, pastel-perfect houses and Murano for its dazzling glass factory

Conclude the day with an Italian must: pizza at Antico Forno, where the battle of thin vs. thick crusts is the main contender (hint: thick conquers all)

one (similar) / two / three (on sale!) / four (similar) / five / six

Gondolier meets streetstyle blogger anyone? Translating the iconic gondolier uniform to the sartorial world is actually quite simple. The blank canvas: a striped shirt dress, perfect for a day of exploration and island-hopping. D'orsay black flats ensure endless comfort and timeless style, while a sleek leather bucket bag adds a dose of modern luxe. However, mastering the Venetian touch requires three vital ingredients: silk red scarf, straw fedora, and a fatal swipe of ruby-red lipstick. Storming the canals of Venice is evidently the new runway.

Now, all I need is a Lizzie McGuire Movie sequel set in Venice, starring Hilary Duff and Lorenzo Richelmy (sorry Paolo)

santorini secrets

2015-05-27T21:41:00.001-07:00

My Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants dreams have finally been realized (but sadly, no Kostos involved)

I've traveled to nine countries and eleven cities in my semester abroad—but there's only one place I'll truly call paradise. Meet the island of Santorini, a place where postcard perfect views are aplenty, where your Tumblr dashboard becomes the reality, and where everything is, well, unforgettable. In other words: it's a destination worth many "pinch me" moments. Everything, from the sights to the cuisine, felt remarkably surreal. For once, this was a city that lived up to every movie scene, magazine page, and Instagram shot that I had carefully studied (unfortunately, I can't say the same for Rome...) Santorini, for the record, looks just as exquisite off-screen as it does on-screen.

And if you want to explore Santorini Runaway In LA-edition, here is your step-by-step guide ;)

Book a bed-and-breakfast in Imerovigli (and if you're lucky, end up with a terrace view)
Skip the bus and stroll along cobblestone pathways and pastel houses to Fira (and squeal over the many adorable stray (?) dogs and cats)
Enjoy a souvlaki (or two) and savor every bite because nothing in the world will compare ever again (also, fries)
Venture over to Oia, a charming village full of Greek blue domes and whitewashed homes; sneak up to the Caldera for a 360° view of Oia and the endless Mediterranean Sea
Soak up the sun at the black volcanic sand beaches (may I recommend Perissa and Kamari?)
For dinner, tame your hungry appetite with a Greek salad and traditional meat pie
Don't forget about dessert: pair bird nest's baklavah with a glass of vinsanto, a sugary-sweet Greek dessert wine
But for the true happy ending... experience a Santorini sunset—also known as the balcony to the Aegean (bonus: add a bottle of ouzo for an extra dose of heaven)

one / two / three / four / five / six / seven / eight

Santorini's color palette is unrivaled in beauty—think vibrant blues, crisp whites, and the occasional pop of gold. Of course, my dream vacation uniform must match with the island vibe. For starters, a breezy, cotton romper perfectly channels that laidback essence; layer this over a floral ruffle bikini for true bliss. And since we are still in Greece, it's time to summon your inner Greek goddess; a sleek gold cuff and glossy espadrilles seals the deal. Shield your tresses with a floppy white straw hat and slip on a pair of retro-cool sunglasses for necessary people-watching. A fringe backpack adds a bohemian splash while storing your photography weapons. Last but not least, ensure that your nails are Santorini-ready with a milky blue hue.

It's safe to say I'm already going through Santorini withdrawals.

london calling

2015-04-09T14:38:00.002-07:00

One weekend in London, but no Tom Hiddleston sighting. What a tragedy.

On the bright side, I finally got my Nando's fix and it was a historic moment in the culinary world (the Peri-Peri Sauce is magical I tell you). More highlights? Strolling along the Thames River and drinking in the skyline views. Stalking adorable dogs at Hyde Park. Navigated the sea of selfie sticks at Buckingham Palace. Chocolate cronuts at Harrod's. Sponatenously hopping onto an intimate tour of Shakespeare's Globe Theater and catching a rehearsal of Henry VIII (PS: if you're thinking of visiting, you can get a sweet 20% discount of entry on this website). Afternoon tea at Sketch, where the vanilla tea, scones, and Earl Grey macarons were the epitome of sweet dreams (and its bathrooms a museum-worthy masterpiece). Went straight into calorie heaven at Poppie's Fish and Chips, followed by a venture to the pastel-perfect Portobello Road. Narrowly avoided a wizarding duel at Platform 9 3/4; clearly, my Slytherin nature was not compatible with Kelly's Gryffindor character. By night, enjoyed a raspberry beer at Ye Olde Cheshire Cheese, the same pub once frequented by Mark Twain and Charles Dickens (and I might have demolished some McDonald's ~~fries~~ chips after)

As for shopping in London...

blazer / top (similar) / nail polish / bag / skirt / shoes

For retail therapy, Oxford Street was the ultimate jackpot. Of course, it's also a tourist death trap—but I was willing to endure it all for one reason: the flagship Topshop store. On a Saturday afternoon, it was madhouse meets labrynith; mixing fashion-hungry shoppers with four stories of merchandise does not leave a pristine picture. Nevertheless, I pursued a few racks and dreamt of the many pieces I would buy with a Hollywood celebrity budget. While I walked out of Topshop empty handed, I did sneak in a few purchases at River Island and New Look nearby (at least these stores were less hazardous to my health)

Even though I've now ~~visited~~ survived the original Topshop, I think I actually prefer my trusty location back home at The Grove (the Vegas location is a close second). Less crowds and more sale items is the perfect formula in my book.

And wouldn't this set make the most fantastic afternoon tea uniform? Please accept me into your family, Prince George.

new year's eve fashion

2014-12-28T01:20:00.001-08:00

clutch / shoes / perfume / dress / sunglasses / nail polishes / bangle / ring / lipstick

Soundtrack It: El Retorno by Monster Rally

This New Year's Eve, the secret lies in mixology—not just in drinks, but in style. When modern luxe meets sixties flair, the final product is undoubtly dazzling. It's time you dust off the sequined frock that's been hibernating in the dark depths of your closet, or better yet, break in your new pair of snakeskin ankle boots. An intricate clutch adds a touch of contemporary opulence, while a bevy of golden jewels amps accessorizing to the next level. On the beauty front, opt for glittery nails to match your dress (and your bubbly) and soften your striking look with a nude lip. Your ultimate post-party weapon? A pair of round-framed sunglasses, perfect for concealing hangovers and smudged mascara.

necklace / bag / lip vinyl / shirt / skirt / shoes / vest / eyeliner / faux lashes

Soundtrack It: The Suburbs by Mr Little Jeans

Caught in a wardrobe dilemma, NYE edition? Monochrome is your instant cure (stick to the main three ingredient hues: black, white, and gray). Club-hopping in Sin City is certainly no tame territory, so it's only natural to keep your uniform laidback yet sophisticated. Elevate the daytime striped crop tee to evening standards with a flirty asymmetrical skirt, then top with a statement necklace. For girl gone glamour, a faux-fur vest perfectly nails the trick. Skip the stiletto and settle for a practical alternative: ankle-strap heels (dance floors do not forgive the morning after). Drama is the essence of your vanity, so feel welcome to indulge in falsies and bold smokey eyes.

candles / ring / shoes / shirt / leggings / bag / eye mask / face mask / scarf

Soundtrack It: Bonfires by Blue Foundation

Have no fear—ringing in the new year with Netflix and takeout can be just as sartorial-friendly. A graphic tee and printed leggings make the quintessential night-in combo, while kitty-kissed flats make supermarket runs a dash more charming (hunting down the aisles for Ben & Jerry's has never been better). To dress your home in the appropiate ambience, aromatic candles are the key essential. Bonus points: your movie theater (read: bedroom) also doubles as a spa; simply layer on a hydrating face mask to treat your complexion. When night falls, a dainty eye mask ensures that you enter cloud nine and 2015 in true bliss.

Which NYE outfit will you be rocking this year?

holiday wishlist

2014-11-30T18:13:00.003-08:00

one / two / three / four / five / six (similar) / seven / eight / nine

You know you've mastered the art of Thanksgiving when even your yoga pants are significantly tighter than before.

Tragically, we must now put our beloved cranberry sauces to rest and prepare for a new season: the winter wonderland. We're talking chestnut praline lattes, a dangerously addictive Bath & Body Works holiday collection, and Home Alone marathons (or Harry Potter⎯take your pick). And don't forget, now is also the time to craft your holiday wishlists and make those (material) dreams into a reality.

As for me? My Christmas lusts are certainly a mix; from adorable trinkets I am most likely too "old" for to the more college appropiate goods, here are the treats I'm hoping to ask from Santa this year!

[one] 3.1 PHILLIP LIM PASHLI MINI SATCHEL - Running in at the top tier of my wishlist is this luxe (but pricey) favorite. It's only natural that my dream handbag would make the cut, considering I've been coveting this masterpiece for ages now. The zipper detailing is what especially drew me in, and the compact size renders it the perfect companion for my petite frame. While on the L train the other week, I spotted a girl toting the same bag⎯I don't know about you, but I think this is a sign from fate.

[two] HOW TO BE PARISIAN: WHEREVER YOU ARE - Since I'll be jet-setting to the City of Lights very soon (and living there for four months), I thought this book would make a library essential. Not only is this read Instagram-worthy, but it doubles as your 101 on Parisian fashion, culture, and lifestyle. Education comes first after all, but I'll pass on the stereotypical cigarettes.

[three] DISNEY CHIP TSUM TSUM PLUSH - Confession: I raced to the Disney Store on Black Friday just to reunite with the clique of supreme cuteness... Tsum Tsums! Once upon a time, Tsum Tsums were an exotic species, only to be found in Disney stores in Japan. Miraculously, these swoon-worthy plushies carved a home in US soil as well, and mankind has not remained the same since. Because I am actually seven-years-old, I knew I had to add this Chip Tsum Tsum to my menagerie of Disney plushies (disclaimer: I am fully aware that I have no absolute need for a Tsum Tsum).

[four] GARANCE DORÉ OUI/NON NOTEBOOK SET - Your notetaking game just got elevated to the next level. Meet fashion blogger, illustrator, and now creator of the prettiest paper goods, Garance Doré, the jack of all trades. It requires much self-control to keep your shopping cart at bay while browsing through her store, which is packed full of treasures ranging from haute greeting cards and stylish desk calenders. My choice pick? This French chic notebook set that will transform mundane class lectures into a lesson on taste.

[five] MADEWELL TURTLENECK SWEATER - With this year's inevitable Polar Vortex to descend upon the East Coast, investing in a classic turtleneck is suddenly a no brainer. My game plan is to maximize turtlenecks through the power of layering⎯pairing it under a fur-trimmed coat makes an effortless yet cozy get-up. Plus, no scarf necessary!

[six] MULBERRY GRACIE WOOL CASHMERE COAT (similar) - My search for the quintessential double-breasted coat is officially over.... thank-you, Mulberry. I can already imagine sporting this dreamy coat from the streets of Manhattan to the avenues of Paris. Its rich cognac hue is a refreshing spin on classic black and will compliment the many patterns of my wardrobe (read: leopard print and stripes).

[seven] BATH & BODY WORKS POLAR BEAR SHEA-INFUSED SOCKS - B&BW devotees rejoice! I first discovered these adorable polar bear socks while doing my annual hand sanitizer run on Black Friday (and spoiler alert: I surprisingly kept my shopping tame). Socks are a Christmas gift tradition, and there's no better way to truly pamper yourself than with shea-infused polar bear socks... emphasis on the shea-infused.

[eight] NARS RADIANT CREAMY CONCEALER - College equates to dreaded under-eye circles, and the only cure hails from the cosmetic kingdom of NARS. For an instant eye-lift, this is your ultimate concealer. Its velvety formula is perfect for masking those five hours of sleep we like to pretend didn't happen. The only reason it nailed a spot on my must-haves? My mom currently has taken my trusty concealer hostage, leaving me vulnerable and prone to attack.

[nine] ANASTASIA BEVERLY HILLS TINTED BROW GEL - Yes, I have eyebrow gel on my wishlist this year. This is the key to ensuring long-lasting brows whether you're team powder or pro pencil. And take my word for it: brow gel does make a subsantial difference.

What's on your holiday wishlist this year?

passport to paris

2014-11-13T19:49:00.001-08:00

one MARC JACOBS / two FUJIFILM / three KATE SPADE / four JOHN LEWIS, similar here / five THE ROW, similar here / six MANSUR GAVRIEL / seven RUPERT SANDERSON / eight YSL

First things first: what do you think of Runaway In LA's new look?

It's about time my blog gets a necessary facelift (and I might have slaved away until 6 AM to perfect every detail. Much love to Pipdig for the design!) Lately, I've been drawn to the clean, miminal feel⎯not only in my wardrobe, but for my blog too. Right now, I'm thinking: who have I turned into? In high school, I wouldn't have been caught dead in a monochromatic palette. And simplicity? Pretty much non-existent. College sure does change you... except when you mix procrastination with 9AM classes, you have no choice but to embrace the bare necessities.

As for announcement number two? Hint: it involves Breton stripes, pâtisseries, and Hotel Chevalier... I'll let the title of the post do most of the talking, but Runaway In LA may be heading abroad very soon! My latest obsessions, naturally, reflect this certain theme. Aaand, wanderlust mode has officially been activated.

[un] PRETTY NOTEBOOKS - Eons ago, I was a die-hard Five Star addict. Zipper binders, pencil pouches, you name it, I had to have it. Except now, I've matured to Instagram-worthy notebooks as my classroom must-haves. Currently, I'm lusting after this Paris skyline notebook by Marc Jacobs. Perhaps this will even make my pre-calc notes look more humane! And post-finals, it would make the perfect travel journal, don't you think?

[deux] FUJIFILM CAMERA - Instant photos? Yes please! While I swear by my trusty iPhone, physical snapshots are the real deal. Apart from achieving ultimate hipster status, there's nothing more I want to do then innovatively display my photos on a string of fairy lights, complete with a Tumblr white bedspread. But really, for sponatenous weekend getaways and capturing everyday memories, a portable (and adorable) camera is the way to go.

[trois] (STYLISH) PASSPORT HOLDER - My bank account would immediately disintegrate at the thought of a $78 passport holder... but in another dimension, this would be a reality. Of course, when you mix Kate Spade and traveling, the end product is a swoon-worthy outfit for your beloved passport. Stamps and polka dots have never looked better.

[quatre] STRIPED TEES - I've been on a striped tee kick lately, even to the point where I've worn the same one twice in a week (oops). Timeless, versatile, and the epitome of Parisian chic, striped tees prove to be the true remedy to any wardrobe dilemma. I particularly love pairing my tee with a denim jacket for an effortless get-up, or when I want to mourn the demise of my GPA, I'll throw in a leather jacket for the all-black look. Next up on my dream team? A striped tee-shirt dress, aka amping this obsession to the next level.

[cinq] MENSWEAR-INSPIRED COAT - This fall, my outerwear game draws inspiration from boarding school prep. A blazer-style coat balances masculinity with simplistic elegance, and is perfect for polishing up any casual ensemble. Not to mention, 99% of every NYU girl seems to own one, so by law, I must also seek one of my own. Bonus points: combine the coat with a striped tee, boyfriend jeans, and Chelsea boots for the ideal city uniform.

[six] LEATHER TOTE - Ever since my backpack tragically lost a zipper (RIP), I've been on the hunt for a carry-all tote to cater my educational needs. Travel-wise, a tote like this Mansur Gavriel number would come extra handy for storage purposes and city hopping. Of course, I'll have to live with the constant threat of pick-pocketers, but I'll devise a plan... (hopefully)

[sept] RIDING BOOTS - Yes, ankle boots are highly addictive, but when Polar Vortex Version 2.0 hits, riding boots will become my shoe savior. I've hunted high and low for the right pair, but haven't had much luck unfortunately. Is it really that complicated to locate a simple black pair? Every other New Yorker must share the same novel idea at this rate.

[huit] RED LIPSTICK - When it comes to the beauty department, I've surprisingly embraced a new routine: lip products. Normally, I can survive with just a swipe of my favorite Fresh Sugar Lip Treatment, but as of now, I've entered the experimental phase of lipsticks. For an authentic French kiss, one can never go wrong with a rich rouge by Yves St. Laurent.

fall style guide

2014-10-04T13:13:00.003-07:00

1 - SOLE SOCIETY / 2 - HUMBLE CHIC / 3 - T BY ALEXANDER WANG / 4 - KATE SPADE / 5- REBECCA TAYLOR / 6 - MARC BY MARC JACOBS / 7 - CHANEL COCO MADEMOISELLE EAU DE TOILETTE SPRAY, similar here

Meet the feminine ensemble fit for fall. This season, it's all about mixology in the sartorial game. Compliment demure floral prints with Parisian chic stripes for a winning combo. A knitted infinity scarf provides an extra touch of cozy, while a camel Panama-style hat protects your tresses from Mother Nature's invaders (rain and wind are not aligned in our stars this month). Looking to adopt the East Coast prep look? A pair of petal-pink oxfords will get the job done. To seal the deal, opt for the ladylike classic: a leather crossbody, painted in a fresh coat of timeless tan. Keep the essence alive with a delicate fragrance; think Balenciaga Paris or Chanel Coco Mademoiselle to truly captivate (psst: if you're on the hunt for discount perfumes, explore more here)

1 - MANGO / 2 - BLACKFIVE, similar here / 3 - MANSUR GAVRIEL / 4 - SPORTSGIRL, similar here / 5 - VALENTINO

Step one to fusing street style into autumn-appropiate gear? Boyfriend jeans. The definition of ultimate comfort, boyfriend jeans are the contemporary sibling of the trusty skinny and serve as the ideal blank canvas. Style with a cream chunky knit sweater and studded ankle boots for a relaxed vibe. Ace midterms with the Mansur Gavriel method: a sleek leather backpack, the ideal abode for crumpled notes and dog-eared books. Don't forget to amp on the accessories too; simple silver rings make for a trendy round of stacking.

1 - H&M / 2 - RED LABEL / 3 - TED BAKER / 4 - VIVIENNE WESTWOOD / 5 - SFAURA, similar here / 6 - MARC JACOBS

Mastering the supreme (witch) uniform has never been easier. It's time to overthrow the LBD reign and introduce its new replacement: the check print shift dress. Luxe, modern, and the picture of versatility, this striking print can effortlessly transition from daytime glamour to evening seduction. Layer on a faux-fur vest to accomodate fall's brisk weather changes. Black slip-ons offer a dose of normcore while an envelope clutch elevates the look to sophistication. The finishing touch? A coat of wine red lipstick, perfect for the just-bitten look.

Which outfit is your favorite?

pop quiz: bianca turetsky of the time-traveling fashionista

2014-04-20T21:36:00.000-07:00

Photography by Natalie Joos for Tales of Endearment

Class is officially in session.

Your school supplies? The best of the crop of course; we're talking about Kate Spade journals, glittery pens à la throwback to the '90s, and fruit-scented erasers fragrant enough to send you on a trip to the tropics. It's time for Pop Quiz, a new series on Runaway In LA where I interview the world of talented and sartorially blessed individuals around the online realm. Forget about the SATs and AP exams; the winning formula lies in intellect and style.

Today's subject matter? Bianca Turetsky, author of the best-selling The Time-Traveling Fashionista book series.

As a survivor of high school history classes (RIP AP US History), I can guarantee you one fact: if the monotonous textbooks of social death had been swapped with Bianca Turetsky's The Time-Traveling Fashionista, I would have likely devoted more quality time to devouring the pages. I mean, if I'm being schooled on Cleopatra, I also expect to hear about ivory ethereal gowns and enough kohl eyeliner to sentence a Sephora to mercy. Likewise, Bianca understands this issue and has sought to cure our couture-hungry appetites, a craving that suspiciously seems to arise every time we crack open a history book. Why slave over the Protestant Reformation when we could be dining on Philip Treacy? (Who, by the way, is famously known for crafting the extravagant fascinators that dwell upon the royal family's tresses. Kate Middleton, we're officially jealous).

A Brooklynite with a penchant for all things vintage, Bianca is quite the style aficionado off the pages. Naturally, her book series translates her sartorial knowledge from reality to the fictional realm, mixing in a colorful dose of historical events as the finishing touch. Through the eyes of twelve-year-old Louise Lambert, readers are whisked on a first-class journey to various eras, from 1912's Titantic sinking to 17th century Paris with cake connoiseur Marie Antionette (let us not forget Sofia Coppola's rendition with Kirsten Dunst either). Rich, aesthetically enchanting fashion illustrations are also scattered amongst the pages of the books, doubling its level of enjoyment and making it a perfect read to consume on a hammock by the beach. It is safe to say that any insatiable case of wanderlust can effectively be vanquished through the literary escapes of The Time-Traveling Fashionista.

I was recently fortunate enough to chat with Bianca on unearthing her best vintage find to the one city pet peeve that will have you re-evaluating your next trip down under (and we're talking the metro variation, not your paradisiacal Australia). Time to whisk out your trusty pens and take notes.

- - -

In her natural habitat / Photography by Natalie Joos for Tales of Endearment

Pop Quiz! Your main character, Louise Lambert, is very style conscious. Even though she loves the Grecians gowns of the Egyptian era to Marie Antionette-style dresses, what modern day designer would you picture her to obsess over?

Louise would definitely be obsessed with Rodarte. From every interview I’ve read, it seems like Kate and Laura Mulleavy are so influenced by the past, by old movies, classic books, everything Louise (and I) love! They take vintage inspired themes and create something new and beautiful. I think Louise would totally be into that.

Who would you want to cast as Louise if your series were to be adapted for television or film?
I daydream about this all the time! I wish I could time-travel for casting and get a 12 year old Natalie Portman or Molly Ringwald. But today I could see Kiernan Shipka or Elle Fanning playing Louise. There are so many talented young actresses out there⎯I’m up for suggestions!

Which decade would you want to live in?
At the risk of sounding corny, I’d say this decade. There are so many I’d love to pop by for a visit (20’s, 50’s, 70’s just to start…) but I’m pretty happy with the way things are now. I’d miss my friends and iPhone! I’d say a “there’s no place like home” theme runs throughout my books⎯by visiting other eras Louise begins to appreciate her own life a little more.

Bianca's menu of books turned home décor / Photography by Natalie Joos for Tales of Endearment

Your best vintage find?
When I was in Spain writing The Time-Traveling Fashionista at the Palace of Marie Antoinette, I went to this amazing vintage store called Madori (which sadly has closed since) and found a gorgeous long white tiered dress with handmade lace trim that looked like something made by Dolce and Gabbana. The dress probably dates back to around 1910⎯just the period I wrote about in my first book. The fabric is so delicate that I’m afraid to wear it out of my apartment, but I love it.

One song that describes your style?
Girls Just Want to Have Fun by Cyndi Lauper. I try to have fun with fashion and not take it too seriously. What’s the worst that can happen, you make some questionable fashion choices? I’ve definitely done that, many times over, and survived. And the photos are pretty funny later.

Your number one pet peeve?
I think this is specific to NYC, but people who clip their fingernails on the subway. WHY???

Pretty dresses in fiction and reality / Photography by Natalie Joos for Tales of Endearment

Who are your style icons?
I have so many fashion icons: Diana Vreeland, Lauren Hutton, old-Hollywood movie stars like Elizabeth Taylor and Audrey Hepburn. Currently I love Alexa Chung’s style. She mixes vintage pieces with new younger designers and always makes it her own unique take. I also love Jane Birkin, and obsessively click on any “how to dress like a French woman” blog post. Whenever I’m in Paris and someone asks me for directions I consider it a little style victory.

One place you'd love to travel to in the future?
I’d love to visit Brazil. I’ve been lucky enough to have travelled all over the world, but I’ve never been to South America so I think that will be my next stop. The food, the culture, the fashion, the beach. What’s not to love?

Guilty pleasure?
I have a few! Dark chocolate, reality television, and DryBar blowouts are probably my top three. Sometimes all of those things can actually happen at the same time and my head pretty much explodes from happiness.

Deep in argyle / Photography by Natalie Joos for Tales of Endearment

Bonus question! What macaron flavor would you be?

I LOVE all macarons, so this is a tough one! I’ll say lemon, sweet but with a little bite.

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Now that you've been schooled on the basics, it's time to put your education to the test. First task? Make sure to check out The Time-Traveling Fashionista, which is not only the perfect poolside companion, but a wonderful additon to your trove of exam stressbusters as well (tip: pair accordingly with coconut water and a lounge chair for maximum effect). Special thank-you to Bianca and her team for taking the time to collaborate with me for this interview!

Pop Quiz Question:

Which era of fashion is your favorite?

nouveau: 2014

2014-01-07T14:25:00.001-08:00

Happy 2014!

Here's to another year of blogging and, of course, a necessary facelift, Photoshop/HTML style.

What I love about the new year is the fact that you truly have an excuse to start over. Perhaps you've admitted to a few faults in the past twelve months... par example: infrequent postings, lazily-written content, poor quality photos, sponsorship overdoses, unnecessary blog comparisons... I've (unfortunately) done it all. The best part is that you are encouraged to abandon all of these defects and instead focus on creating a new facade. After all, why waste thoughts on lamenting the negativities of your blogging career when it is already in the past? Time is a precious currency and you must learn to spend it wisely (though, money, on the other hand, is quite a different tale...)

Every January, I feel obligated to compose a list of "resolutions" for my blog. Though 90% of the time these seemingly fruitful ideas do not even see the light of day, I am determined to change my ill-fated resolutions into the reality.

But first: an appetizer of inspiring visuals to ring in the new year.

Photos via Tumblr

⎯⎯ My 2014 Blog Resolutions ⎯⎯

1. B L O G M O R E - Enough said

2. O U T F I T P O S T S - Concentrate on offering high-quality outfit posts (minus the awkward posing)

3. V A R I E T Y - Offer style guides/quizzes, reviews, hauls, travel diaries, and the like

4. C O M M U N I C A T E - Reach out to fellow bloggers more frequently

5. P R O F E S S I O N A L I Z E - But not without losing my touch

What are your resolutions for the new year? :-)

PS: How flawless are the Olsens? Even on Full House, they were adorable!

See you all again in my next post!

winter essentials

2013-11-24T14:28:00.001-08:00

New look, new HTML and, of course, new fonts.

What do you think of Runaway In LA's revamped facelift?

I decided to opt for a clean, streamlined look that not only fuses feminity but also maturity, as I hope to one day nurture my blog into a professional project (translation: snagging a dream job as Rumi Neely). And as always, Runaway In LA is not complete without a hint of Disney essence (speaking of, I am tragically suffering through Disneyland withdrawals).

Today, I'll be sharing with you all my winter essentials. As a seasoned New Yorker (or so I wish to be), I now finally know what an authentic winter feels like. Gone were the overcast sixty degree afternoons that had been my Southern California winters. What pleasantly greeted me instead were malicious winds that tore at my bare (and naive) hands and the ocassional downpour of delightful rain that drenched boots and unveiled hair.

And for the first time since elementary school, I experienced the wondrous beauty of snow. In fact, just last evening, I innocently departed the Met, noticing strange flakes in the sky. At first, I mindlessly thought it was rain. However, the sudden flourish of iPhone cameras proved me wrong; it was not just a mundane plague of rainfall, but snowfall. And naturally, I decided to have a photoshoot amidst the flurry of delicate snowflakes. And I didn't even stop there: I proceeded to record my view of Fifth Avenue in a true winter glory that usually is only reserved for classic holiday films.

Now, that, my friends, is how you distinguish a New York transplant from a true native city dweller.

However, to be caught in my first New York snowfall in the Upper East Side of all places? I wouldn't trade it for anywhere else (well, I'll make an exception for Arendelle in Frozen).

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1. SWEATERS - As the stereotypical Tumblr girl mantra goes, winter seasons are made for "cozy sweaters", "peppermint mochas" and "asking Santa for a boyfriend". Though I certainly donned my fair share of sweaters even back in California, living in the East Coast has truly forced me to abandon my dreamy ideals of sheer blouses in November. Sweaters are no longer merely a comfortable, lazy Monday option, but rather, a mandatory closet staple. I have adopted numerous style inspirations off the streets of tastefully-attired New Yorkers who really know how to morph a plain sweater into a trendy statement piece. Recently, I have unearthed the beauty of pairing sweaters over dresses and the coupling with leather and denim vests for an innovative twist. *cue the Sweater Weather song that appears on every Tumblr girl playlist*

2. KNEE-HIGH SOCKS - NYU kids are the satorial masterpieces. They manipulate dresses into shirts, camoflauge themselves in a fusion of fur and leather, and most importantly, embrace the art of acessorizing. From the Parisian chic beret to the glamour of the faux-fur collar, I have witnessed the various ways students have chosen to accordingly furnish their cold-weather ensembles. One of the most popular choice weapons for this winter are knee-high socks; whether worn with ankle boots or riding boots, they provide an extra dose of warmth, especially when layered over tights or leggings. On rare days when the city is transformed into a haven of divine sunshine, knee-high socks are displayed solely with ankle booties, flowy skirts and floppy hats for a much-needed bohemian-meets-streetstyle vibe.

3. ANKLE BOOTS - Confession: I used to utterly despise ankle boots. Standing at only 5'1, I had always lived my wardrobe life under the impression that ankle boots further emphasized my short frame. However, I fell into a lethal trap of the trends and became poisoned with the thought of purchasing a pair when I began to see girls everywhere, on the streets, in my dorm, during class, rocking a pair of effortessly-cool ankle boots. Having been enchanted by my MissGuided black and rose-gold ankle boots, I have realized that they do not only elevate you to new heights with three-inch heels, but look wonderful when paired with skinny jeans and leggings. Currently, I am in a lustful affair over black Doc Martens, as I love the gritty, model off-duty essence of them.

4. COLORED DENIM - Apologies to J Brand, True Religion and 7 For All Mankind. These days, I have chosen to abandon your classic American blue-wash in preference for a more diverse option. It is strange to think that I have rarely worn a pair of blue denim recently; usually, I like to rely on my black spandex leggings or my colored denim, ranging from rose-pink, mint, oxblood and mocha hues. I can't quite place it, but there is something purely so exciting about color denim over the average pair of dark-wash skinnies. Still on my wishlist? Patterned jeans.

5. DENIM SHIRTS - Perhaps a better term for this delectable desire of mine would be chambray shirts. In the past, there used to be a cherished H&M chambray button-down that graced virtually every outfit of mine; however, my darling denim beauty eventually lost its color and began to fade after a few laundry washes, eventually leading to its catastrophic demise. Now, I am again, on the search for a new denim shirt to join the coterie. I am particularly looking forward to pairing my denim shirt with a faux-fur vest for a polished yet feminine look.

6. PHILLIP LIM x TARGET BAG - While fashion-conscious women of the world quietly froze outdoors whilst waiting in line or sat wide-eyed and caffeine-quenched by their computer screens, I was most likely catching a few zzz's in bed. When the much-coveted Phillip Lim for Target collection launched back in September, wallets were raided of its contents and credit cards were swiped mercissely as everyone rushed to snag their favorite handbag. Tragically, the nearest Target near me is all the way uptown in Harlem, in which I was not going to make an effort to go early in the AM. However, I'd still like to get my hands on my own prized Phillip Lim for Target bag... preferably without an $100 pricetag.

7. DAINTY RINGS - It only took one disasterous decision to realize that statement rings are not the most pragmatic accessory choice for the winter season. Yes, while I dearly cherish my tribal ring from Rings & Tings that mysteriously resembles Loki (which thus reminds me of the most beautiful man on earth: Tom Hiddleston *swoons*), these oversized rings do not become your camaraderie when worn with gloves or mittens, often getting caught in the fabric. As a result, I have resorted to the realm of dainty rings; these delicate and subtle rings are small enough to not become a hassle when worn with thick fabrics but eye-catching enough to remain as crucial accessory pieces. Plus, the look of stacked rings adds a new element to an otherwise plain and drab monochromatic uniform.

8. BEANIES - My blogger friend (and intern-queen) Mallory Levy once told me that New York would change my style. Who knew that such a concrete jungle could change my style? Back home, I would not have even batted a mascara-kissed lash at the thought of beanies. But, nowadays? I seem to have somehow developed a ravenous appetite for beanies; not only are they ridiculously warm, but adds a casual-cool twist to any ensemble. And for those who suffer from the tragic case of bad hair days, beanies are a pratical choice for shielding second-day shine and pesky fly-aways. After seeing Sarah Hyland rock a Mickey Mouse beanie for her birthday and having discovered this same product at an Urban Outfitters store in Boston, I have since vowed this precious item to be on my Christmas wishlist... but of couse, I'm open to your classic white and gray too.

9. BLUSH - Note that I rarely wear blush. The last time I sported a pair of rosy cheeks was when I got my make-up done professionally at a Sephora for prom. Since then, I have been meaning to scour the shelves for the perfect blush, but have been either too unproductive to properly search or unfortunately broke to properly purchase. With the winter season dawning upon us, blush is a wonderful way to add a neccessary dash of flushed rose to an otherwise pale complexion.

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In other breaking news: I have officially purchased new camera lens! Be on the look-out for my upcoming outfit posts, which hopefully, will be enhanced in quality.

Hope you have enjoyed a peek at my winter essentials!

Now I want to know... what are your own winter must-haves?