Five beauty essentials for beating the heat/humidity

Good morning, my little Monday dwellers. I hope you had an exciting weekend. If you are someone who has worked or works in advertising, buckle up for all those rose swilling, yacht dwelling, self-congratulatory social media moments from Cannes. My eyes. I have never been to Cannes for the ad awards hoo has and I most likely never will be. I have, however, always wanted to go and write a Hunter Thompsonesque commentary on all the masturbatory madness. Who wants to fund that? No takers so far. Shocking.

But this isn't a post about advertising. It's about the heat is on and the humidity here to stay. This time of year is super challenging for me. Though I love the ocean, like a bit of a tan, and love extra daylight, the whole hot thing is a challenge. So here's five beauty products I've found that help. At least when it comes to looking your best all Summer long. You may not reach Bardot beauty on the beach status, but a girl can try.

For the face: Hourglass Veil™ Translucent Setting Powder. OK, so this. I know any woman over 40 is wondering if powder is for her. The answer is yes. If the said powder is not drying. If you don't want to look like a decomposing mummy, use Hourglass's fantastic powder. Its formula is lovely, and it doesn't seem cakey or drying and provides the perfect finish to makeup so it won't run down your face when it's hazy, hot, and humid. I love, love, love this one. I highly recommend for all ages. And the foolproof packaging allows for just the right amount to be dispensed. Maybe my favorite new discovery.

For the hair: Leonor Greyle Serum de Soie Sublimateur- This oil from French girl favorite Leonor Greyle is the holy grail of anti-frizz, and that's a fact. Run a few drops through your hair, and you can even dare to dry naturally. It's that good. It smoothes without being too greasy or weighing down your tresses. The smell is subjective- it's not my favorite, but others adore it- kind of the way I feel about the original Rodin oil. Smells a bit like that. I've written about this one before, but worth a mention again because it's perfection.

For the girls:  Boob sweat? Don't even tell me this isn't a concern. This talc-free powder from Megababe keeps you feeling fresh and sweat free, where it matters all day long. I love this stuff. In Bust Dust I trust. 

For the thighs: A miracle of miracles. Thigh Rescue is miraculous during bare leg season. And as someone who wears dresses more often than not, strong yes to having this in stock at all times at my casa. I love Megababe so much. They get it, and they also make one for men. How cool is that?

For the whole bod, baby.  Oh, I love this guy from organic line Osea. After the shower, smelling delicious, soft skin realness. It's from Malibu, so it gives you that apres beach vibe that's just everything. I can't wait to bring it with me to beach week in July. So gorgeous and smells so good and soaks right into your skin. Claims to help with stretch marks and firms skin too. Gorgeous.

So maybe you're in Cannes reading this and wishing I had written this before your trip. Or maybe you're stateside in a sweat. Either way, summer is here and so are all these divine products to help you get through it. Cause that's what's up this sunny beauty roundup of a Monday in the unsunny 212. Yours, in frizz and sweat, be gone. XO

Strike a pose, New York

Good morning, Monday. I hope you had a wonderful weekend- the weather here in New York was just too perfect. And Khan even got to see an old friend and hang out in the park with the sun on his fur face. All in all, a lovely couple of days.

So last week I did some more binge-watching, this time the entire first season of FX's "Pose," the brilliant look into the trans world of New York in the late 80s. Created by Ryan Murphy of "Glee" fame, this show is absolutely hands down one of the most touching and entertaining shows in recent memory.  And the acting is transcendent- I now know why Billy Porter goes so big at awards shows. 

The show focuses on the uptown ballroom culture depicted in movies like "Paris is Burning," but examines the family dynamic, which is the most tender part of the show. As crews or "houses" perform at the balls with a theme, they also live in houses together as a family. The "mother" of each house keeps her children safe and provides a stable environment for them. Understand that many of these kids are found on the street, kicked out of their homes for merely trying to live their truths. The story also follows the often sad dynamic of finding love as a trans woman. These are not easy lives, and to live them with the AIDs crisis as a backdrop is even more heartbreaking. 

As a member of a generation who sexually came of age during the AIDS crisis, it's hard to explain how terrifying and horrific that time was. I lost my cousin to AIDs, and I can't think of many people who don't know someone either close to them or somewhat more distant that lost their lives to this horrible disease. And because I grew up in a family where there were gay men, I felt strongly from an early age that acceptance was an unnegotiable right. And that being free to love who you want to love and be who you want to be meant everything. How could you deny anyone the right to love and be loved? And why must I still ask the same question I was asking a million years ago?

But lest you think the show is super sad, it's not. There are tear-jerking moments for sure, but there are also happy jubilant ones. It shows the critical relationship of what it means to be a mother- to protect, to nurture, to accept and love unconditionally, which got me thinking. That New York City is the mother incarnate. For many people from all walks of life and persuasions and preferences who come here looking for acceptance, to live their dreams, and to live fully out loud precisely as they are. And even though this city has become more of a hedge funded theme park than a place where originals are born and raised, it's still in the ether.  And I hope that never changes. And sure, mothers can be cruel sometimes. But tough love is often part of a life well lived. So we deal. 

When I moved from Philadelphia to New York, I too felt loved and nurtured in a way I never had before. I always referred to New York City as a giant womb state. I somehow feel safe, protected, and warm. I know that may be strange to some who find city living anything but, but that's the way New York has always been for me. And as someone who never felt entirely at home growing up in the 215, I felt great joy and relief when I moved here way back when. 

And as I took a walk downtown on the way to a meeting last week, I saw those Pride flags flying and felt a deep sense of relief. That I live somewhere where we can be the best versions of ourselves, which is who we want to be.  The second season of "Pose" starts tomorrow night, and I'll be tuning in and laughing and crying and loving all the dance moves and incredible looks. But today, I remain grateful to a city who mothers us all and keeps us motivated, inspired, and alive.  New York is not just a city. It means so much more to so many of us who came here in search of something better: the tired, the poor, and the fabulous. 

Cause that's what's up this lifelong love affair kind of Monday in the best city in the whole damn world. Yours, in living your dreams and being perfect just the way you are. XO

Maven pick: A can do jumpsuit if you've got some curves

Good morning, Thursday. I'm worked out, worn out, ready to pass out. And it's not even 9 am. 

So quick style shout out. (You know you want it).

I'm a fan of Universal Standard and its wide array of sizing. It's a chic line with plenty of styles and options to suit many ages and body types. It's brilliant, and I'm still so utterly obsessed with the tux I got from their collaboration with Goop. It's just right.

And you all know how I feel about a jumpsuit, and judging from all of the women I see around the boroughs rocking them too, it's a bonafide movement. I'm talking about the utility take in particular. It's so comfortable and confident all at once. And strangely sexy. Or at least I feel sexy when I wear it because I always add a little bit of something feminine to it- even if it's a pretty sandal or a beautiful bra underneath.

But those boiler suits have some issues. And number one is fit. Because even if they are supposed to be oversized, for women who are not boyishly built, they can be challenging. Boobs, hips, and bellies are not often invited to this type of jumpsuit party. But I spotted this one, and I'm quite sure the fit is going to be great. I have not tried it, but I know this brand is all about fit and I'm hoping to get to their store in Soho to try one of these suckers on. So good. It comes in black and olive green and has that industrial vibe I'm all about. Plus its 150 dollar price tag is a reasonable fee for something you'll most likely wear all the time.  PS I know the pic I posted looks like a winter look, but you're more imaginative than that, aren't you darlings? Rock it with some rubber slides for a bit of Summer cool.

Jumpsuits are the new one-piece wonders of our time. Having been a dress girl for a minute now, I appreciate a new take on easy dressing. So have at this jumpsuit and please report back. 

Cause that's what's up this zipped up Thursday in the 718. Yours, in one and done. XO

Old dogs and some new tricks

Good morning, Wednesday. I'm hanging out waiting to get briefed on a new project but here's something to chew on.

Yesterday I lied about my dog's age. To a total stranger. I have no idea why I did it, but I said he was six and he's more like nine or ten. Perhaps I want him to be forever young and never leave my side (absolutely). Or maybe I wanted to make myself appear younger by having a younger dog (probably not). In any event, I lied about my dog's age (pic above), and it threw me a bit, which got me thinking about what it means to feel your age and this whole thing about telling everyone your age.

First up- what does "feeling your age" even mean?

I feel many things in life. Ranging from fear to sadness to happiness and back again. But do I feel my age? Don't know what that means. Mostly because I have never been this age, so how would I know how it feels? I can say I don't feel old in my mind or my spirit or my style. As for my body, sure. There are wears and tears. There are days when my knees hurt and days when I wish I looked better in my jumpsuit. But for the most part, I don't feel my age. Because mostly, I feel like myself. Sure, there are situations where I may feel like I've been in the oven for too long. One of those is working in ad agencies, so I put a stop to that. Another is participating in a lot of nightlife activities.  I tend to avoid situations that make me feel old. Or at least the negative connotation of whatever that means. Silly as it seems. 

Also, I don't have children of the human variety. And I have always felt this kept me feeling young. But people with kids stay young through them, of this I'm sure. For instance, do you know who Lil Nas X is? Not Nas Nas, mind you. Lil Nas X. Yea, me neither. But if you have kids, you know who he is. Because he's got one of the most popular songs in the country with "Old Town Road." And he was on the Today show, featured in a story on how he surprised a classroom of adoring children who knew every word. I had never, ever heard of him. But a friend on Instagram posted about it and said how much his young son loved him. So there's a ding. As a childless person, my access to Top 40 tuneage is slim to none. Needless to say, "OTR" never made it to my Discover Weekly.

Second- this whole admitting your age thing. I'm cool with it. But I don't think it's for everyone. You can all figure out how old I am. It's not a secret. But if age is just a number, why this urge to shout it from the rooftops? Yea, I know. Because age is only a number. For me, I look at my age as a context for the life I live, the references that make me laugh and cry, and the lens with which I see the world. And I don't lie about my age. I don't necessarily feel the need to say it to anyone and everyone. But I did lie about Khan's age yesterday.

For no reason other than I love him more than anything. I remember a woman I knew in the neighborhood who was a screenwriter with a sweet little dog called Norman. We'd often see each other in the park, surrounded by nannies and stay at home dads and then there we were- two chicks in black with little dogs we loved like our blood. Norman appeared to be quite geriatric, a wizened old gent with a similar disposition to my Khan- tolerant but not enamored with other members of dogkind, and a bit of a charming curmudgeon. Smitten with his owner. I once asked my friend how old Norm was, to which she replied, "Four and a half."  Alrighty then.

At the time, it gave me pause. But now I get it; I get it. Because my pal just wanted her fur baby to be around forever too. I haven't seen her or Norman in some time, and rumor has it she left the neighborhood in search of cheaper accommodations. I hope dear sweet Norman is happily ensconced in a new nabe and ignoring other dogs as his mom talks to other dog owners in a new, leafy setting.

I just wanted to throw down with all of that today.  The big takeaway? I'll lie about Khan's age because I love him and I won't lie about my own because I love me too.  But if you ask me my age or feel a burning need to know, whatever. It's my choice to share the number, or not. 

Cause that's what's up this age is not a thing, but it's a thing kind of Wednesday in the 212. Yours, in old dogs, pop songs, and keeping it real when it comes to the feels. XO

The murky waters of Barney's beauty floor: Take heed

Good morning, Tuesday. It's ridiculously beautiful outside, and I hope to take K for a nice long walk today in between editing a deck and finishing a proposal. LIfe is all about balance, mainly when it's perfect outside.

So last week I went to see the Camp show at the Met with a friend, and it was just lovely. The theme is a bit mamby pamby, but that's ok. I loved all the frou-frou and felt it was a nice break from the endless news cycle and craziness. Pure fun in the form of pink tulle. I'll take it.

And after the show, we enjoyed a cocktail on the Met rooftop (such a lovely experience, highly recommend), and then walked on Madison to window shop and people watch. We inevitably ended up at Barney's, which felt a bit like Filene's Basement. It seemed as if everything was on sale, and it's just about a week or so past Memorial Day. Crazy.

But despite the bargain basement vibe, the air of desperation was nowhere more apparent than at the beauty counters. I'm not sure if you've ever shopped for makeup or skin care at Barney's, but it's intense.  On the one hand, the woman at the Chanel counter pretty much ignored us as we searched for seasonal eyeshadow, but everyone else in the area honed in on us as if we were fresh meat. And the sharks seemed very, very hungry.

One woman came up to me to fixate on a crystal necklace I was wearing. Like, literally got in my face to inquire about its powers and then pitch me on some lipstick. And then the gentleman operating the MDNA skincare counter (Madonna's line) seemed to think it was perfectly ok to slather my hand with some sort of black goo that took "just over five minutes to dry." Who wants to engage in banter with a stranger trying to sell you insanely expensive stuff for five minutes? Not me. I will say the way he removed the mask/goo was cool- some sort of vacuum tool that sucked it all up yet somehow left a layer of serum that did make my hand look nice. I didn't purchase any of Madge's skincare. Her face scares me beyond belief. 

And though we almost made it out of there with our credit card balances intact, I happened to walk over to the YSL counter, and then's when the circling sharks came in for the kill. I admire the hustle as much as the next victim, but there's hustle and then there's harassment. My experience was a bit of the latter. 

Out of nowhere came a woman who told me my skin was very much in need of tightening and lifting. Listen up. I know a few things. I know my good points and bad points. And one of my very good points is my skin. It's nice. It's not saggy. It's something I'm lucky to have inherited from my mother. So when this Jaws in red lipstick and a lousy wig started slathering creams on me, I felt violated. And age shamed. And yes, the serum she put on me felt nice and looked nice. But for 350 dollars, I was not taking the bait. No way.

And as lipstick shark was slathering and shaming, the more chill shark at the YSL counter was putting concealer on me, and then finally, the new tinted moisturizer I came to see in the first place, first spotted on a pal at a photoshoot. I don't know if it was the serum that was so pretty or if the moisturizer was a hit, but my skin looked fresh. So I purchased the moisturizer, and then also purchased the two Armani eye products he recommended, which I love. Links here and here. That corrector is magic.  Oh, and I even got this primer. It's beautiful and fits the profile when it comes to getting after that glow, yo.  

So if you ever go to the beauty floor of Barney's, my suggestion is to look straight ahead and don't make eye contact. Once you do, game over. If you don't want to be bothered, that is. It's like they can smell a bit of insecurity, the need for something new, or the whiff of someone who may be on the market for one thing, but will end up seduced by product overload and walk out with more than they bargained for.

Cause that's what' up this beautiful Tuesday in the 718. Yours, in swimming with sharks and expensive adventures. XO

Maven pick: Happy Nature's sustainable, well priced boho chic

Good morning, Wednesday. It's so gloomy out. Gah. I can't get motivated and feeling less than inspired the past few weeks when it comes to posting but it always makes me feel so great to put stuff out there, and last night during an Insta scroll I found a promo for Kate Hudson's new sustainable clothing line, Happy Nature. Not to fear, this isn't Fabletics. It's so much better.

Because if you're like me, going boho in the Summer time is standard fare.  And this collection is great for gals who love their Ulla Johnson  or Doen but don't love the price points. And bonus- first purchases over 100 bucks are 30 percent off and everything is completely responsibly and ethically made.  Here's a look at some of the pieces- so cute right? I"m a big maxi dress fan when it feels hippieish and chic like these.

These minidresses are wearable all summer long with flat sandals. Adore.

Love a flowy white top in the summer time to wear with everything. These are great. Look at Jane Birkin at the top of this post for inspo. So chic.

This top may be my favorite of all- so beautiful with jeans or even with black shorts. Pretty, non?

I got the two maxi dresses at the top of the post but now seriously thinking about those minidresses above. What to do?  See now I'm inspired again. ;)

Cause that's what's up this Summer is here let's dress up kind of Wednesday in the 718. Yours, in letting it flow. XO

When fashion attacks

Good morning, Tuesday. I hope you had a lovely long weekend. Mine was jaunty and kind of cute. Discovered some cuteness in Bucks County, PA. Wondering if it's an alternative to upstate somehow? Will need to investigate further.

So Memorial Day weekend style is casual and cool and of course, Summery. But somehow the Biebers didn't get the memo and decided it was chic to dress like hipitty hoppity Oompa Loompas while shopping in Beverly HIlls. I'm not a belieber. Not at all. What is this? Why is this? Somebody explain this to me. There needs to be a memorial for these outfits. Stat. I mean, he looks marginally better than her, but she looks absolutely ridiculous.

I don't know why I'm sharing this with you. I just thought you should see it and never, ever use it for inspiration. 

Cause that's what's up this post holiday Tuesday in the 718. Yours, in weird lewks and too much money/time/who knows what. XO

Spotted on the streets of New York: The Skirt of the Summer

Good morning, Thursday. It's gloomy outside and I'm happy for indoor activities today.

So last night I was hanging with a few pals who are helping me redo my site and blog (exciting) while having a few laughs over Thai food. One of them mentioned a trend she's been seeing in Soho, and I couldn't believe it- because I was literally going to write this here post today about the very same. Patterns are everywhere. You just need to keep your eyes open.

And since I like to tell you what's trending on the streets of New York when it comes to style, allow me to present the silk leopard midi skirt in all of its girl power glory. Because it seems like every NY woman is wearing some version of this skirt- with sneakers, with kitten heels and with just about everything. Last week at The Wing I saw at least three women rocking it, and if you walk around Soho on a sunny afternoon you can literally lose count of how many versions of it you'll see.  It started last summer with this skirt from Realisation Par, an is now ubiquitous in New York style circles. Incidentally, my new friend started an Instagram account in real time last night to address this little trend .

I will admit it's a versatile little number. 

It nods to the 90s which I love (slip skirts so my jam) and works well with a tank top and kitten heels, or with a tucked in button down and ballet flats. It's great with a light sweater or sweatshirt and sneakers too. It's a great little piece you can either dress up or dress down.

Here's some versions of it I found online so you too can look like a New York type of chick-a-dee.

This one from Faiithfull is well priced and cute.

Love the a line silhouette of all of these, but the Ganni version of this trendy piece is particularly flattering and versatile on many body types.

Of course millennial fav Reformation is doing a version, theirs in georgette.  I prefer the silk personally to give it that real lingerie feel. 

This version in jersey looks comfy as f. I want it.

And this one from Icons is probably my fav- love the lace detailing for a bit of sex appeal. Fab. 

And of course, the original, here. The one that started it all. For all you purists out there. I recommend wearing it with a shirt, but that's just me.

So there you have it. Leopard midi skirt. One and done. Get to it.

Cause that's what's up this seen on the streets kind of Thursday in the 212. Yours, in I live here so you don't have to. XO

Remembering Biggie and New York in the 90s.

Good morning, Tuesday. It's way more my tempo outside with the cooler temps. I'm a fan. Too soon yesterday with all that heat and humidity. Too soon.

So today would be the Notorious B.I.G.'s 47th birthday. I guess I never realized he was one of mine when it came to demographics but I guess he was. I do know that when his album "Ready to Die" came out the year I moved here, I found myself unable to stop listening to it. It was so hard yet so catchy. I fell in love with Biggie as did everyone living in New York and everywhere at that time. And hip hop was a big part of my life back then. I can't think back to my early days in New York without it.

Back in the day, I had a weird pattern of dating guys in the record business. Not musicians or artists, mind you. More record exec types of the scrappy, short, Jewish varietal. That was my speed back then. I have no idea why. Beastie Boy tendencies I suppose. And truly, Jews and hip hop go together like peanut butter and matzoh. From Rick Rubin to Lyor Cohen to Steve Rifkind and back again. We're drawn to it like moths to a flame. I spent so much time hanging out at the offices of record labels- there was a time when it seemed that all of my friends and lovers were in the music business. Those pre-streaming days and such. Incidentally, Lyor Cohen was on our plane coming back from Vegas after we got married. I was wearing an Adidas bucket hat and immediately felt shy. I remember him calling Ja (Rule) on the plane phone before we had cell phones. It was epic.

So to back up, after moving to New York, I ended up very much in the world of 90s hip hop, which was just fine by me. Little clubs like the 205, BOB, Sapphire, Den of Thieves, Rebar, The Tunnel on Sunday nights, Nell's, the reggae/hip hop basement at Club USA. Sunday night showcases at Chaz and Wilson's uptown.  DJs like Stretch Armstrong made it all so much fun. Surely I'm missing some but you get it. If you were here, you no doubt remember the sweat fest of fun almost every night. You could go to a small club and dance your face off. It didn't matter what you were wearing, although looking cute was always on the menu.  And I could never, ever forget a young group called the Fugees, performing at Tramps, where all of us were basically dancing in our bras by the end of the night because it was so hot on all counts. The energy at that show was absolutely unforgettable, and absolutely in my top ten concert experiences of all time. Ooh la la la.

I also remember how inspired I was by Vibe magazine, the photos in particular. Photographers like Jonathan Mannion (his photo of Biggie above) were doing the best photos of all the heroes and heroines of the scene. In many ways, I think Vibe inspired me to work in photography as a producer. I can remember shooting a young Lauryn Hill at Industria and being completely intoxicated by her beauty and power and style.

And I'm lucky to be married to a man that also lives his hip hop. It's true he may skew slightly more west coast than east coast, but it works. We've been watching the four part Wu Tang thing on Showtime  and he's never mad when I swoon over Method Man, who remains the dreamiest. The footage from those early Wu days takes me back to to that time- it was all so gritty and grimy and raw.  Really, the Wu's 36 Chambers was more punk rock than punk rock itself. Nothing slick, nothing polished ,complete and total aggro amazingness. And even though Giuliani tried to ban dancing (it's true), he couldn't stop us, and I just feel so lucky I was here during the height of 90s hip hop, which, for my money, is my most favorite. And I love that my aunt loves hip hop as much as we do. She'll often wear an oversized Biggie tee shirt and for that, I love her the most. Nothing like Passover dinner and some hardcore hip hop. That's how we roll in my family.

As for where hip hop is now, it's ok. I don't hate it, but I certainly don't love it. And that's ok. Every generation has to have their music, and I'll let the kids have it. I may not be asking my Uber driver to turn up Hot 97 the way I used to back in the yellow cab days, but still. I can appreciate it. I love that New York was so instrumental in hip hop and always will be somehow. There is no more relevant backing track to this city in the last thirty years and change than hip hop. And that's the truth. Try driving on the FDR late at night some time blasting Mobb Deep's "Shook Ones" and you'll get it.

But today I was thinking about Biggie and how much his music meant and still means to me.  You could hear the emotion, the swagger, the pain. I may have to turn up to some Biggie today. In my apartment that happens to be not terribly far from where he grew up. And yes, Biggie's Brooklyn may be more Bugaboo than Bubble Goose now, but still. I love it. I love it all. Go spread love.

Cause that's what's up this hypnotizing Tuesday in  the BK. Yours, in juicy memories and hip hop forever. Happy bday, Biggie.  XO

Live through this: A personal take on how time is on my side

Good morning, Thursday. The sun is finally back and what a difference it makes. 

So I was just unwrapping the amazingly comprehensive NY Times piece on Generation X. It seems, yet again, we're having a moment. As so many of you know, being a member of the MTV generation is something I'm super passionate about. I have been lost and found a million times in this thing called life but my card carrying status as an Xer had never, ever left me, I'm eternally grateful for all of the references, music, and cynicism it has given me. G-d bless my Xness.

One of the pieces noted that it's 25 years since 1994, and it's worth checking in on what my generation is doing with themselves. What's particularly significant for me about that year is it's the year I moved to New York City. A year I can never, ever forget because it was one of the most pivotal of my life. 

I remember the end of my days in Philly, feeling so disassociated and disenchanted with the place I called home. And I wanted to reinvent what that meant. In general. I reached a point where all of my friends got out of Dodge, and I was the only one left- with a dead end job at a classical architecture firm and a crush on a coworker who wore sweater vests. I also remember eating a lot of plain baked potatoes for lunch.  Desperado.

I've always had a preloaded desire to live in New York, and with a lackluster life on the horizon, I wanted to make a move. So I got a job interview in the 212 and got on a train and got that job. And I moved on my birthday and never looked back. And just like that, life opened up. And the New York years happened and life happened and shit happened and here I am. Ready for what's next. My 30s were for falling in love and feeling loved and making up for all the funky fuckupedness of my 20s. Ten years later, I moved to Miami to take a job that would change the way I thought about work forever. And then very early into my 40s, it was time to come back to New York. And so I did.

To lens the backdrop a bit for you, here's what was going on that year in the world of pop culture. Madonna smoked a cigar on Letterman. NIrvana came out with "Unplugged". Oasis released "Definitely Maybe".  So many other things. Pulp Fiction and Uma's bob. OJ's glove. Playstation. Reality Bites. And of course, Hole's "Live Through This", an album I had on blast for the majority of the year, and had the baby tee with the logo to show my devotion to Courtney and co. Incredibly prolific times. But let's talk about right here and now.

Because with a new decade of life not too far off, I feel a new shift in the way I approach and process things. Sure there are way less f's given. But I tend to give f's to the stuff that matters. Like not working with jerks. Or energy vampires. Or people who are not my tribe. I also am focused on authenticity. And though that word is overwrought and overplayed, I'm feeling it. I'm feeling the need to live my truest life. And for me, that means being creative on my terms. Still figuring out that bit but bear with me...I've got a few minutes to figure out how to be the voice of my
generation. ;)

And 25 years since 1994 some things are still with me. I still love this big dumb city.  I'm still a redhead. I still love hip hop. I'm definitely more confident now, but in many ways, more vulnerable. The bottom line is- I'm still me. I may spend a bit more money on skincare and shoes but still here. It's interesting to think about the things you want to keep with you. Truly. I think it's a mistake to think about getting older as a time where you have to let everything go. Not always true. Because every phase of life gives you something for the next.  It's not about nostalgia at all, mind you. It's just having the roots and foundation so you can always keep moving and changing.  

Fascinating this moment. Treasuring it, savoring it, not afraid of it. 

Cause that's what's up this looking back to look forward kind of Thursday in the 212. Yours, in love and hope and sex and dreams. XO

PS- music nerds look at this list of releases from 1994. Insane.