Okay- the secret is out- I've gone MIA because I'm massively obsessed with a mascara that Rimmel sent me - Lash Accelerator. That's right- it actually makes your lashes grow! So move over Latisse, a reasonably priced product is on the market (I think it's around $24 which is nothing compared to the almost $100 bucks that Latisse costs)!
This mascara actually works (RIDICULOUS). It's super dark and my lashes are on the move (going through a total growth spurt) Granted- it's only been 22 days... but the product only needs 30 days to insanely change your lashes! That's right.... it's absurd.
Another awesome thing- the face of the product - Zooey Deschanel who is pretty much just the cutest darn lady in the whole world... not to mention- awesome sense of style. Check out the ad here:
Well, an ad only says so much, right?
So shall we examine some real evidence?
BEFORE
NOW
Yeah, that's right, ladies and gents, IT WORKS. Are you stunned? Are you sitting with your mouth wide open? Slack-jawed much?
That's what I thought-- TOTAL DISBELIEF (don't worry... you're not alone)
Anyway- our challenge was to wear the mascara for a month. I'm on week three... and I'll be posting a super, creative, funky, fun, exciting, wild, out-there, CUHRAZAY review of the product by October 9th (Probably up maybe October 7th).
Who knows what it's going to be? Video? Creative writing? Song? Review? Magazine ad? Mood board?
Well who knows? NOT YOU! (I barely know myself), but do check back to see!
[I also have tons of photos from fashion week to put up, but applying to college has got me SWAMPED with work... and I'm lazy. More on that later]
P.S. Take our facebook quiz: Which Rimmel 10 Girl Are You? (If you're me- I'll give you a special shout out on here and maybe even a little gift....!)
I know I haven't been around in ages, but I am making a resolution to post at least 3X a week.
A few things to update on. I'm getting ready to go back to school so everything is super hectic!
Firstly- when in London- do like the Londoners do! I was on a street style TV special in Notting Hill, a hip area of London where the famous Portabello market is....
I'm the girl with the animal head rings (or maybe you recognize me by my AMERICAN accent)
Next thing: the wrap up for Rimmel Challenge #5 is up on the Rimmel site --> check it out HERE
And-- we are starting our new challenge -- testing a super new exciting product (mascara that actually lengthens lashes!)
Well the big day has arrived. The entire school is in jitters. We're all dressed up, prancing about, preparing ourselves for.... Music is blaring, cupcakes being iced, children screaming and why?
Well, that's right.. IT'S MY BIRTHDAY. [17 Y.O./YO!]
Yes!
[And yes, I lied. No children are screaming... thank goodness]
Actually, none of what I said is going on. In fact, I'm sitting in the student center totally isolated listening to Reckless by Crystal Castles and wondering about gifts because that's the whole damn point, isn't it? (or as Ruby Pseudo, my lovely friend would say "innit")
Actually though, you should check out her blog. It's really rather fabulous.
So what now?
These are things I like.... and things I'd like as gifts.... so if you'd like to send me something... just kidding... that's my parents' jobs and friends and other random acquaintances who will probably buy me things that I dislike.... like a set of Playmobile people or a Barbie bicycle (might like those though.... UH OH).
Here's my dilemma though: I CAN'T THINK OF ANYTHING I WANT FOR MY B-DAY DUDES.
It's really upsetting. I don't want nuttin'. Like actually, that's nothing that I'm like OHMYDEARLORDINEEDTOOWNTHATRIGHTTHISGODDAMMMINUTEORIMAYDIE.
And so, I leave you with a photo of Lucy Moran, wonderful secretary of the Twin Peak's Sheriff's Office... because all I DO want for my birthday is her wonderful coral lipstick.
The mission: find London in New York... well... it's everywhere.
1. So So Glos
The So So Glos are a favorite Brooklyn-based band and good friends of mine. They've also got quite a London thing going on. Listen and judge for yourself!
Urban Jungle is a gem hidden amongst the large warehouses of Bushwick, Brooklyn. It is one of many vintage stores on Knickerbocker Ave, but by far the best. Everything is cheap as hell and the variety ranges from long floral dresses to neon construction pants. The clientele is just as diverse... at any given point, there are people from all walks of life in there.
(SO MANY ROWS- SO MANY JEWELS!)
It's really just the best. And afterwards-- dinner at Roberta's.
3. Loading Dock
Sort of a weird thing to write on, but the Loading Dock is a Mexican restaurant in downtown Brooklyn that is one of the cutest places I've ever been. It's run by a bunch of hipsters and doubles as an art gallery too. Bonus: They make their own tortillas.
It's also just incredibly chill.
And yes, their kitchen is a taco truck pulled up to the building!
5. The Hotel Chelsea
Haunted by ghosts of famous musicians, artists, and writers, The Hotel Chelsea has a vibe that is New York but London. It's dark with glimmers of art (once traded for renting a room). Patti Smith once floated from room to room and I mean, who doesn't love Patti Smith? How about Bob Dylan? Janis Joplin? Leonard Cohen? Dylan Thomas? Sid Vicious? Robert Mapplethorpe?
Although the hotel doesn't take long-term stays, you can stay up to 24 days!
6. Silent Barn
House and music venue extraordinaire, the Silent Barn sort of pushes the boundaries of Brooklyn. (Technically in Queens)... but whatever. Joe Ahearn cranks out great DIY shows and the legendary Showpaper here!
Sometimes one stumbles upon a pair of shoes that makes them squirm around in their chair for a good ten minutes. Sometimes one stumbles upon TWO pairs of shoes that make them squirm around in their chair for a good ten minutes (each)!
That's me today. The cause: Nicholas Kirkwood Spring/Summer 2010 line.
Maybe you'll squirm now too!
The Metallic Paint Oxford
The Electric Dot Oxford
Yes, that heel is awesome. And yes, it's laquer. And yes, I will be unable to recreate it in my DIY project to recreate these two pairs of shoes. But, I will do my best... when the price tag doesn't fit, do it yourself.
I wrote a story. A friend made a movie of it. I acted in it. He composed the music and played it. My name is so.lo.war. His name is Luca Balser.
This is the story:
On the Terrace of a Thousand Yellow Suns
I held the little life in my hand, reaching out over the wrought iron rail, balancing the little porcelain globe over the patio, over the soil that I had knelt in, ran my fingers through just that morning. For just a morsel of a moment, I could feel the pulsing heart beat enclosed in this life enclosed in this fragile entity. This beating drum pushed and pushed and vibrated against my little palm, making my hand quiver, my fingers shake. I held this little creature’s life in my hand. I held its fate and if I were to just flick my wrist—I would murder. I had been bathing my glowing body in the spring sunshine for hours, bending and reaching into the cardboard carton next to me every few minutes, producing a little speckled object. There were freckles sprinkled across the façade of this thing. They were the freckles I wore across the bridge of my nose, a splattering of light brown paint, met occasionally by the corner of my crimson mouth, sometimes getting lost in the folds of my dimples as I let my laugh of feathers flow out of my mouth until the ground is white with a snow of down. The round of the container of this growing baby fit perfectly into my palm. This one at this moment was different than the others and I subconsciously knew that if I were to drop it to the patio below, a little ball of feathers would be coughed out into a pile of shattered shells and little yellow suns. The thought of such a simple birth and death within moments of one another made my own chest thunder at twice the frequency of the living being balanced precariously on my vibrating knuckles. I had never really studied this white, freckled thing, the little yellow flight that it produces each spring, and as I held it to my flushed cheek, it felt like silk and its shape, its fucking shape was the shape of my own exasperated face. It was as pure as me. It was me and I imagined what it would feel like to float in mucus with my eyes closed until my little beak broke out and I emerged into the gaze of my mother. And I pondered this peculiar feeling, this warm fluid against my skin, my eyes glued together blissfully so that I was able to see into my own mind, so that I was able to roll my eyes back and look into this brain that had been so artfully crafted, enclosed in a hard case that quite resembled the one I held in my hand. Two things meant to protect. One easily broken and the other, also easily broken and with that, I flinched and dropped the life. My mouth opened, a deep guttural cry escaping from my lips, no white down falling to the ground, no laughter, nothing but wailing and spitting and what felt like needles in my throat. I dropped to the wooden deck beneath me, forcing my face against the opening in the slatted rail and I watched the life descend and its heartbeat grew and grew, the thumping of bass from a bad stereo, pounding in sync with my own. I watched and watched and then it was over and it broke, shattered into ivory white pieces the size of my baby teeth. Slowly the mucus began to leak running through the valleys of cracks between bricks and I sat sobbing, reaching my hand towards the murdered, praying that it would jump back on to the balcony, into my lap, and the little bundle of feathers would emerge, but nothing. Where was the little baby covered in matted feathers? The blind child?
The yellow yolk slid out into the sea of suns and I realized that the baby had been long dead.
