Maven crush Friday: Going into the weekend like Lowe...

Good afternoon, Friday .I'm writing to you from a plan on the way to Vegas where I'm watching "Friends" and Danny DeVito is stripping to "Tainted Love" and sipping on a bloody mary. All in all, not too terrible.

And in honor of a girls trip with fellow midlife mavens, I had to share my love and affection for Pearl Lowe, who's 49 years old and every bit my girl crush. She's one of those cool English birds I dig more than anything. And now she boasts a fabulous line of dresses (I want them all).

I'm also OBSESSED with her Instagram, which celebrates maximalism to its height. 

The English do this so well, ps. That eccentric, loopy aristocrat thing. I'm all about it. Much better than Kimye's minimalist starship enterprise. I don't relate to that at all.  I need warmth and personality in my casa. I love her notion of "faded glamour". So fabulous. So into it.

Anyway, Pearl's my girl. I love her. Love her vintage aesthetic, love her cool girl cred (here she is with Kate Moss in hazy days), and love that she came out the other end of a gnarly addiction and survived to tell the tale. She's fabulous, and mom to Daisy Lowe, a gorgeous girl in her own right. And that's why she's this midlife maven's crush of the week. I'll be hanging in Sin City till Monday. Wish me luck, cause you know I'll be a lady. 

Cause that's what's up this over the top kind of Friday en route to the west coast. Yours, in rolling the dice and English roses. XO

Musings from midlife: Who can we be now when it comes to personal style?

Good morning, Wednesday. Beautiful one in NYC today.  Have a million errands to do today but at least the sun will be shining through the tedium.

So as you all by now know, I've been thinking much about this thing called midlife.

What does it mean? How do I navigate? What's in store? 

Besides an inevitable fear of hot flashes, I'm committed to living my most authentic life. And what that means is only saying "yes" to things I truly want to do.  I recently wrote some copy for a shoe brand and found it so effortless and lovely because I was allowed to use my voice. It's true the brand is slightly different than my aesthetic, but it was so much fun to write it didn't even feel like work. I'm amazed every day how this writing career has completely shifted the way I think about work in general. Part of me kicks myself for not pursuing this more full tilt when I was young. But then I'm grateful for finding it at a point i my life when I really needed to pivot. 

Another thing I've been thinking about is how women are depicted over 40.  On the one hand, we have the Norwegian looking long, flowing grey haired goddess, makeup free type- who is most likely a vegan and practices yoga every day and wears primarily white and though sensationally beautiful,  I'm not her.

I'm also not quite as wacky (though this one is admittedly closer) as that kooky older women archetype a la Iris Apfel or Linda Rodin we see everywhere. I relate a bit more here, but not quite. Also I'm not that old yet. So for me, that just doesn't feel right, even though they too are amazing. It ain't me, babe. (PS love the woman in the track suit. Ah-mazing).

There's also the more "lean in" archetype- of women running the show in business a la Sheryl Sandberg. I have never, ever had the need to wear anything resembling a suit to work, so for me, that whole pencil skirt thing is not really a thing.  Not my tempo.

Recently I cut my hair off again. It's super short and I'm happy with it. To me, having short hair is a bit of a middle finger to traditional feminine ideals, but strangely enough, I feel more womanly with my hair short than not. And I'm keeping it bright copper red because red hair just makes me feel like me, even though I'm far from a natural redhead. I identify as a redhead and that's the truth- it suits me. I'm obsessed with women like Stella Tennant and a bit more of a tomboy look. Here she is above from a Zara campaign last year. I have always, always loved her look and love how she's getting older right along with me, even if I'm not ten feet tall or an English aristocrat. She's fantastic. #goals.

If anything, I feel more aligned with women like Winona Ryder, Sofia Coppola, and former Sassy mag editors cum bloggers Andrea Linnett and Kim France. They're still cool, and I imagine they still blast Sonic Youth and have a youthfulness and cred I really connect to. It will be interesting to attend that 50th birthday weekend in Vegas and chat a bit about what it means to be 50 or on the verge. I can't tell you how much I'm loving this part of life and figuring out who I am. Finally. The strong sense of self is worth the price of admission. 

And what's great about all the women above is they are all authentic and true to who they are, and that's fabulous. And there's no need to put yourself under pressure to see where you fit in- because maybe you just don't and that's amazing too. But despite all the options, we still have work to do when it come to confidence at midlife and beyond.

Check it- I found a great article in Time about how the whole notion of body positivity leaves out women over 40. if we are learning to embrace body types that are not traditionally ideal, we should think about how to embrace what is considered beautiful and sexy, spider veins and all. From the piece is an interesting statistic from 2018:

"Currently, there are approximately 14,520 posts with the hashtag #agepo or #agepositive, versus 8.3 million posts with the hashtag #bodypositivity or #bodypositive. A scroll through the latter indeed reveals women who appear to be mostly in their 20s".

And from the same piece, with Gen X representing about a fifth of the overall population and with about 30 percent of the spending power, "Xers drop almost double what millennials do on “apparel and services”; we also purchase more products from brands we follow on social media than millennials".

There's a big opportunity for brands to engage with X, yet they don't. I'm hoping to help break ground on real talk about aging, particularly in my crowd and demographic. Because reality doesn't have to bite. But it doesn't have to be invisible either. And like the sentiment at the top of the post, being authentic and just being you requires bravery. And to find out who you are and want to be is pure joy. Trust.

Cause that's what's up this authentic Wednesday in the 718. Yours, in breaking molds and being true. XO




Keanu Reeves. He's one of ours.

Good morning, Monday. It's a gloomy, sleepy Monday in New York which I always find seductive in some kind of way. The slowness of it all. It's lovely truly. Lazing into the work week and such.

So this weekend I peeped the new cover of GQ, with none other than Keanu Reeves on the cover. With amazing photos shot by Daniel Jackson, the twitterverse was aflutter as a collective "damn Felicia" was uttered in regards to just how cool and incredibly hot Keanu looks. And as one friend posted this am- "one word: 54". He's one of us. And by us, I mean a Gen Xer. By the skin of his teeth mind you (Gen X birth years start in 1965 but I'll let it slide), but one of us nonetheless.

Keanu is 5 to the fucking 4. Can you believe that? What is it about Keanu that has endless appeal? Is it that he seems just kind of regular in the best of ways? Is it that he keeps on getting better? Full disclosure- I've never been the biggest fan of his acting, though I recently rewatched "My Own Private Idaho" and he was magnificent and dark in that one.

I love that he's on the cover of GQ. I love how transcendentally rad he looks. And I love that everyone's loving him. Love to love you, Keanu. Thanks for keeping it real. You "over the hill assassin" you. His words, not mine.

You be the judge, but he's a dream. I love the opening line of the piece, ps:

"Here, before you're quite ready for him, is Keanu Reeves: At the top of the driveway of the Chateau Marmont, smoking a cigarette on a low couch, like he's on his front porch".

Who's cooler? Who would you rather stay up late drinking and listening to vinyl with? Not many people. Not many people.

And like the piece says:

"Every generation gets its own Keanu Reeves, except every generation's Keanu Reeves is this Keanu Reeves".

Keanu Reeves- the best example of a transcendent hero for all the ages. What could be better?

Cause that's what's up this long live Keanu of a Monday in the 212. Yours, in excellent midlife adventures. XO




The way we wore: A journey down memory lane, the footwear edition

Good morning, Friday. Happy Easter and Passover to all.  

So I've been seeing a style story all over the Internet about the return of the Steve Madden platform slide with the bandage strap. These were standard fare in the 90s, though I must say- I never rocked them. Because they're hideous. And even though I may or may not have had a few baby backpacks (of the Stussy and Diesel varietal) as well as a cadre of slip dresses and baby tees (baby stuff- it was a thing), these shoes were not my jam. And rest assured, they will not be this go around either.  I love that tear from Sassy above- featuring the amazing Andrea Linnett whose current blog I religiously ponder on the regs.

It's funny because I was pondering the 90s the other day (as one does) and not thinking about fashion, but what my drink of choice used to be. And I really didn't come up with much besides the fact that I think I drank quite a bit of beer. And vodka and tonics. But other than that, I drew a blank. Perhaps because of all those vodka and tonics.  And I think there were a decent amount of Jack and Cokes. When I would hang in the East Village at bars like Lucy's or Cherry Tavern.

But back to the shoes. I absolutely wore these Converse slides to death. They were so a thing back then, I'd rock them with all my little slip dresses. I think I need these again.

And there was definitely a kitten heel mule. With a bow. Also to go with those slip dresses. Chic non?

And I know there was a covered toe, suede high heeled clog (kind of like these but not leather)with an ankle strap that made me feel like Minnie Mouse for some reason. I remember wearing them with cut off denim shorts in the summertime. I also semi recall a platform loafer. Maybe I wore them as a work shoe in my early days in advertising. Kind of naff I know.

Oh and there was definitely an engineer boot. And a harness boot. Those were a wee bit more early 90s though. I'd wear them with boot cut cords and a bodysuit. Or with my Gap denim overalls. Tough.

And of course, my beloved Chinese slippers. I wore these all around town and were a favorite for running errands on the Upper East Side in my early days of New York life.

I am wincing in advance over all the bandage platforms I'm going to see this summer. Needless to say, I won't be joining them. I'll still be rocking my Vans slides, Gucci slides, and I'm fairly into my No. 6 clog sandals as per usual. So I guess my style is a bit same same, just evolved. How did you do the 90s and will you be rocking the Steve Maddens this time around? Rest assured, the 90s were not all Spice Girl platforms and hideous slides. Vogue's homage to 90s shoe chic shows the best of the era. And there's those kitten heels...I was not quite on a budget to wear Blahniks back then by the way.

Look how chic Linda looks in those Birkenstocks by the way. Who wouldn't wear either of these looks right now from head to toe? Not to mention this infamous shot of Kate rocking hers. So good. Truth be told, I did not go down the Birkenstock road back then. But Lord knows I'm rocking the crap out of 'em now. Suede Arizonas. Black leather with white buckles. White single strap patent leather. And a faux furkenstock I rocked all winter. Obsessed. The images above will forever be inspirational to me. So classic and cool and perfect.

Cause that's what's up this foot fetish of a Friday in the 718. Yours, in silly shoes and signs of the times. XO



On burning out, selling out, and generation gaps

Good morning, Wednesday. Gettin' over that hump.

So the other day on the Facebook I posted about a commercial from Fidelity Investments, talking about retirement with the backing track of "If You Leave" by OMD, made infamous by the movie "Pretty in Pink". Gulp. So many feelings. 

If this is a commercial clearly marketed at Gen X,  it gave me pause. How many of us are thinking about retirement? I guess it's not that far fetched but still- it feels so strange. Whoever thought that the Duck man would become an old man? 

But besides that, I loved that a pal of mine from high school commented about whether or not the band "sold out" by selling the rights to their music for this admittedly cheesy commercial. Spoken like a true Xer. And I think that's the biggest difference between us and them. And by them I mean the millennials. Because for millennials, selling out is so not a thing. With mounting student loans and living at home longer and the cult of Instafame, all cards that lead to wealth and fame are cards that should always be played. I can't help but wonder if all that fame seeking makes millennials as difficult to work with as many people say they are. Is it because the traditional workplace is simply too confining for people who dream of being front and center and are merely background players? They're also notoriously prone to early burnout. Sellouts and burnouts. Not a great look. Maybe Neil Young had it right all those years ago. Is it better to burn out than to fade away? Kurt Cobain put that famous line in his suicide note, and I remember him being criticized by fans for going too mainstream.That used to be a thing. It isn't now.

As for my generation? We never showed our hand when it came to "selling out". It was beyond frowned upon, even though we were the MTV generation and brands were clamoring to be our pals. They just weren't giving us products to feature on social media. Or write about on our blogs. Because we didn't have those things. And we were familiar with 15 minutes of fame but we didn't care.What a difference a generation makes.

And now that Generation Z is hot on the heels of millennials as the new golden child of demography, it will be interesting to see how they handle the notion of selling out, because after all, they are our kids. And they're already being touted as more cynical than millennials. That's prototypical X behavior right there.

That said, many Xers would now probably love the opportunity to shill for brands and pocket some cold, hard cash. We're not idiots. It's just that not many of us are being asked to the party. Besides being an audience to commercials that features the music we grew up with. So are you willing to sell out? And what does that even mean in such a blurry world where brands are expected to lead conversations and be in service of consumers? Interesting times these.

Cause that's what's up this X marks the spot kind of Wednesday in the 718. Yours, in selling out vs. burning out. XO

All grown up? Be a kid again.

Good morning, Monday. Hope your weekend was all that. How 'bout that Game of Thrones though?

So I've talked about this before but it's worth chatting again given my recent posts about reinvention. I have always held true to the belief that going back to childhood for clues about what you should really be doing with your life is a sound strategy. As in- go on, be a kid again.

What I mean by this is that those romantic poets we studied in English lit were on to something. Wordsworth famously said that "the child is the father of man". I believe that to be true, particularly when it comes to our life's work. I'm well aware that a few things happen along the way in this thing called life. But to me, being a child is the purest expression of who we are, before the world gets a hold of us and influences us to sometimes not follow our dreams. This may not be true for everyone mind you, but it's certainly true for me.

As a child all of my time and energy and focus was spent on creative pursuits. Whether I was drawing or writing, it was always a creative endeavor that made me happy and feel most myself. I recently watched this excellent documentary on Antonio Lopez, whose fashion illustrations were hugely influential on me as a child. I would stare at them for hours and try to draw my very own version. I also wrote short stories and poems and was always so intrigued by artists and writers during my young life. But then of course life happened and i took a bit of a different path. It's true I've always worked with creative people, but having had such a strong identity as a creative as a child, I spent a lifetime wondering how to get back there. And here I am. Inner child cliches aside, I feel back in touch with the person I always wanted to be.

If you are feeling lost in the dark woods of indecision about what to do next, look forward, but also look back. I guarantee there are some clues in your young life to help decode your future. And if you're doing something you really love that allows you to connect to that pure joy you felt as a kiddo, that's just awesome. 

And for all my pals who are parents out there, please encourage your children to follow their dreams, however crazy they may sound. Be a guardian of what they love and enjoy that journey with them. It's everything.

Wishing you lots of love and inspiration this week. "Tis the season for reinvention. Cause that's what's up this thing called life kind of Monday in the 718. Yours, in not kidding around. XO


Keep your box. I'll check my own.

Good morning, Friday. TGIF. First of all, thank you for all the tremendous love you've shown me, and thanks to the Ageist for publishing a version of my piece on ageism in advertising. It's incredibly affirming and I feel so focused on what's next for me.

So one thing I was thinking about was this- this whole notion of reinvention/rebooting is not something that came into my life as I realized I was growing out of my lifelong career. It started very, very young for me. I've always had wanderlust when it comes to work. Maybe it's because I had the nagging sense that somehow, what I was doing was not me living my most authentic life when it came to my career. I worked for the best agencies. I worked with the best creative talent. I stayed in incredible hotels and got to see some beautiful places. And all of that was wonderful. But I'd be lying if I said there were many days and nights when I yearned for something else. And that's hard. It was hard my entire life. I have often been accused of "grass is always greener" thinking. But maybe it's because I had the sneaking suspicion that there was something else I wanted. It was just hard for me to see. And the distraction of a very busy and stressful career didn't help. 

I searched so often for what it would take. But the nagging voice was the one that told me to "do my own thing".

That's the voice I heard over and over again. Sometimes I told it to shut the hell up. Other times I tried to listen to it but got too nervous to really hear it. Truth is, I've been a writer my entire life. And the other truth? People in advertising would never, ever think of me as one. And I know that's what kept me from doing this sooner. The fear. 

The fear that people whose creativity I had come to respect and admire would somehow deem me "not good enough". Or "who does she think she is being a writer now"? I know- it's defeatist and ridiculous but if you've worked in advertising you know why I say this. Because there is not a more siloed industry I can think of. Besides maybe factory work. It's completely insane. How on Earth can a house built on creativity put everyone in little boxes? I get that in a place that is at its best set up to make stuff, everybody needs a role. But to not accept and encourage talented people for all they can do seems ridiculous. And insecure.  Also why on Earth was I so afraid of what people would think? That is just so...argh.  If I'm mad at myself for anything, it's that.

And since the big marketing buzzword of the past couple of years has been "agility", I challenge members of the ad community and all workplaces to embrace people who may know a thing or two about more than a thing or two. There are polyglots everywhere. Why aren't we embracing them? Why is it so unfathomable that I can write and produce things? It's not. Or at least it's not to me. And if you want to retain great people, encourage them to share all their gifts. And then maybe people won't feel so stuck when they're left with a career that feels a little flat. Don't let other people put you in a box. Because you need to check your own when it comes to who you are and what you want.

And I started early on to grow weary of the typecasting. After all, I spent time as a trend forecaster and strategist, and of course, a producer. I clocked a ton of hours on this blog, and then I started slowly building a writing clientele which was absolutely amazing. And now here I am. I love to write for others, but I'm loving writing for myself. And that's where that whole "do your own thing" thing comes in. Finally.

I detest labels and titles and being compartmentalized. Unless of course, it's by your own volition. And right now, I am a writer. And that's what I'll be. And for the first time in forever, I don't want to be anything else. If you are or were fortunate enough to feel that way about work, lucky duck. But it doesn't matter when you get there. I just know that this whole reinvention thing weighed heavily on me my entire life. Because I just knew there was more.

Also, if you'r dealing with people who "don't see you" a certain way, it's hard to change them. And that's ok. I realize that most of my contacts in life are in advertising, but I also realized that very few of these people would help me when it comes to my writing. So I went around them and found my own people. And it's better like that. People are sometimes more comfortable thinking of you in one way. Like your parents. To them, you'll always be their little boy or little girl. And to some guy in high school or college you dated, you'll be remembered for the way you were, and not the way you are. And that makes sense. But as we grow and evolve and reinvent, we should surround ourselves with people who love the new and improved and current versions of ourselves. So that's very much my plan. I'm not saying some of those tried and true folks won't love you just the way you are, old or new. I am lucky to count many people like that in my friend and peer groups. Thank goodness. But chances are, it's going to be hard for some people to let go of the old you. So meh. Out with the old. Thank you. Next.

So the point here? I'm grateful. I'm excited. I feel inspired. And I do think that although torturous at times, I've been a lifelong rebooter, even if it was mostly in my own mind. I just knew there was something else. Always.

And I'm super curious about all of your journeys. How you've fared out there in this brave, new world. What are your fears and concerns? What's inspired you to push through? When did your lightbulb go off or are you still sitting in the dark? Talk to me. I'm here. And thank you again for all the love and support. It means the world. Who's afraid of Virginia Woolf? Not me.  

Cause that's what's up this keeping up with the changes kind of Friday in the 718, Yours, in roads to nowhere that
lead, well, everywhere. XO





It's only 8:27 and I've already seized the day. Or at least, the doorbell.

Good morning, Tuesday. It's 8 am and I'm already proud of myself.

Because at precisely 7:40, my doorbell started buzzing. And it wouldn't stop. And I don't know how many you have been regaled by the dulcet sounds of a New York doorbell (holy shrill), but wow. Good morning.

Funny thing is- this happened about two weeks ago. And at that time my neighbor, who I think may be in the CIA, came to my rescue and unscrewed the sucker and cut the wires. If anyone knows how to cut wires- it was this guy. Me? Not really.

So finally the repair guy came yesterday- he of about 110 years. In two seconds he fixed it. Supposedly. Finally- Seamless could deliver again and I didn't have to go down three flights to let them in. YES.

But no.

David left for work early this am and just as I was drinking my first cup of coffee, el buzzer struck again. Khan started barking his head off. I started yelling for no reason. I was hoping that upstairs possibly CIA homie would come down again and save me. But alas- nobody came to my rescue. And then I realized nobody was going to rescue me. And then I felt guilty for needing rescue. I mean- we've come so far. What would Rhoda Morgenstern do? Why is the refrigerator still open? Should I put on a bra? 

At that moment, I called David, who happened to answer. After ransacking his too box, he directed me to where I might find the right screwdriver and then I went straight up MacGyver on the sucker. I unscrewed wires like a pro. I know most of you are snickering. Single women in particular. You do this shit all the time. And women with kids- you birthed babies out of your vaginas. Surely unscrewing an intercom would not be so tough for you. But as someone who relies very heavily on my husband to do things like this, I was not unpleased to have figured this out. And only two sips of coffee in too. 

Sometimes as a wife, I'm guilty of relying too much on my man to do stuff I don't want to do.  Even if I do believe women can do anything. It's true I phoned a friend aka my husband to guide me, but still, I did it. And Khan is still staring at it like "wtf just happened"?

So that's my morning excitement. What you got? Cheers to the women who are handy and can fix stuff. DIY all the way, as dumb as that sounds for something as simple as this. I have solved very complex problems in business, yet there I was, panicking over a doorbell. And scene.

Cause that's what's up this cuckoo Tuesday in the 718. Yours, in wifey got this. Grateful for inspiration, wherever and whenever it may strike.  XO

PS- On the small chance you are a millennial or some such and you don't know who Rhoda Morgenstern is, here you go. She's a fav of mine. That's her above too. Carry on.


Out on the town, and nothing to wear

Good morning, Monday. Thanks for all the love after Friday's post. I appreciate all the lovely messages I received of support and some of concern. I'm actually ok. I'm just learning to live my most authentic life and I'm devoted to sharing more of my deepest thoughts with you. More on that later in the week.

As for today, I'm officially stumped on a wardrobe thing. I know, right? That doesn't normally happen to me. But I was invited to a 50th birthday girl's weekend in Vegas at the end of this month and the dress code is one of my favorites: caftan chic. I've got that down. Don't worry. My caftans have caftans.

But we're going out on the town Saturday night so that caftan may not cut it. Needless to say, I don't require many nighttime looks these days. The last time I was out past midnight? I don't even remember . That's just not my thing anymore and I'm more than fine with it. But I remember all those nights as a younger woman in New York and all of those LOOKS, girl. So many looks, so little time.

If you lived in New York in the 90s, you no doubt owned about 5 pairs of black pants at the very least, which you wore with a cute "going out" top. Mine included some ribbed cap sleeve sweaters as well as some silky button downs a la Gucci (but not Gucci) with some sort of sexy bra peeking out underneath. There were also suede minis, and one white pleather one, worn with knee high boots. In the summer? My bevy of slip dresses. Often worn with a ribbed tank or nothing at all underneath and some Converse slides or plaftorm clogs. There were also of course some LBDS. A lot of those too.

But cut to now.

I really wasn't planning on buying a thing for this trip as I'm all about saving and not spending these days, but my insomnia got the better of me the other night so I took a spin around the internet. And OMG. What happened to going out wear? Well, nothing really. It's just that I'm a good deal older now and the looks that were served to me did not feel right. At all. Too short. Too tight. Too in your face when it comes to sexy. I'm not a vulgarian. Or a Kardashian. And I hate that whole jeans and a "cute top" thing. That ain't me, babe. No no no.

So what's a girl to do when she's, well, no longer a girl? If you search any site's "night out" looks, you're going to be shocked at how cheesy it all looks. Or at least I was.

For a Saturday night in Vegas,  I started leaning towards something vintage. Black of course. Maybe a maxi. Maybe something beaded. Definitely something from the 70s. But then Etsy gave me a headache so I had to stop looking.

So I settled on a classic from my own closet-  a one shoulder black silk Helmut Lang midi dress- Grecian/caftan in shape but polished and sexy in the right way. That maybe with a pair of gold Gucci heels I splurged on a few seasons back. That could do the trick. And boom. I 'm still on brief with the caftan thing. If that look fails, I'll go for my trusty Malia mills black jumpsuit- Long sleeved, silky button down with the same heels I mentioned from Gucci and loads of gold around the neck. Could work. When in doubt, ask yourself: What would Bianca do? Works every time.

I'm looking forward to a little Vegas action. What's your go to look these days when it come to night moves? If I was feeling reedier, I think my default would be a tux jacket/trousers and some high heeled sandals a la this look from Hedi Slimane's time at Dior. I'd make the pants move of the stovetop varietal to keep it very slim. To me, that's perfection. Holy chic.

Cause that's what's up this out on the town kind of Monday in the 718. Yours, in keeping it together, and rolling the dice. XO


Friday aka Cry day

Good morning, Friday. TGIF.

So this one's tough for me to write but I'll just say it- I'm a bit of a hormonal, emotional wreck.

Lately I've been ripping off a lot of band aids in my life- everything from switching career paths to taking care of my health to financial responsibility. And I'm feeling a little raw. And everything, and I do mean everything, is making me cry. The fact that my dog is getting old is making me cry. The push/pull/rollercoaster fun house of female hormones is making me cry. The story on the Today show about the pregnant mom battling breast cancer is doing me in.

Thing is, I've spent a career and lifetime being the strong one. Producer lady who holds it all together. Keeps everything positive. I'm very, very good at hiding my emotions and fears and sweeping them under a seemingly endless rug. But if I'm being truthful, I'm emotional. Very emotional. And very sensitive. My idols are tough women who seemingly never break but I'm sure they are reduced to puddles from time to time. Or at least it makes me feel better to think that. And back to those hormones- holy moly. One day is wonderful, the next? Telenovela dramatic.

I wouldn't say I'm depressed, ps. It's not really like that. It's just getting in touch with my emotional side. I've never been someone who cries at work. I've never been someone that likes to show my vulnerability. i come from a pretty emotional family and it's tough for me. I like to be my father's daughter and stay positive. That's still the case, ps. It's just an acknowledgement that right now, I'm in my feelings. Big time. And it's not about retreating from the world. It's just my default to run on a broken leg and pretend it's not broken. I guess in order to keep going, I have to acknowledge that sometimes, as a person and as a woman, tears need to come.  

I've spent a long time admiring the steely reserve of tough chicks. Also the cool countenance of  well bred WASPy types whose reedy frames match their elegance and cool, calm, collectedness. Or so they make you believe.

Thing is, as I get more and more in touch with my creative side, i think I'm getting back to my true sensitive self.  I think most people who really know me know that I'm a softy. And that's not to say my tough side is not going to come back. But right now, as I very consciously enter a new phase of my life, I'm staying close to my emotions.  We are taught as women that being emotional is weak. And though crying at work is not really my tempo, watching a sad story on morning television that triggers a crying bout feels cathartic, as is anything that brings you closer to your true self. It may even make you feel human when you spend the majority of your life just trying to be tough. Sometimes, you just gotta let it out. Because crying doesn't have to be negative. Sometimes, it just confirms you're alive.

And those ripped off band aids can really hurt sometimes. But how much better do we feel when those wounds are healed? I don't know about you, but I always feel so much better after a good cry. Always. No need to check on me. I'll be just fine. I also think I'm realizing we're a little low on compassion and empathy in this world. And both of those things, when tapped in to them, can make one feel a wee bit emotional. I'm so there. 

Cause that's what's up this softer kind of Cry day in the 718. Yours, in no need to worry, I'm just being me and going with the flow. Pass the tissues, please. Or the animal videos. I feel better already. XO