california christmas

Thanks to my friend Jeremy Black, a San Clemente-dwelling, convertible-driving, easygoing, natural foods magnate, I have had the ultimate California Christmas.

Here's the view from the deck where I'm writing right now, while the bells from the church down the street play "Lovely Weather for a Sleigh Ride Together."

Here's the sleigh I rode on Christmas eve,

appropriately enough, at a surf break known as Church.

Jeremy and his next-door neighbor Mark point the way.

Santa puts his shirt back on.


Here at Casa Black, açai (click) is the new egg nog,

and hemp buttered whole grain bread is the new French Toast.

I've been getting my butt kicked daily at the yoga studio down the street and waking up my mind, body, and soul with dunks in the chilly Pacific.


It's not going to be easy going back to snowy NYC, but I feel stronger with some Pacific salt and California sun in my veins, and I'll do my best to spread it around.

boas festas

Boas Festas is Brazil-speak for Happy Holidays, but literally it translates to "good parties," which is what I'm wishing for you, via a scan of a Christmas card I picked up at the flea market in Rio last summer.


It seems especially appropriate this year, since I'm writing from Sambazon's (click) San Clemente headquarters, while the Black brothers, my hosts, prepare to take off for Brazil tomorrow.

I'll happily hold down the fort for another day before I head back to NYC, where the forecast is for...snow. I've got lots of love to keep me warm, so fueled with that, some California sunshine and saltwater, and a boa festa or two, we'll pull through the rest of this winter.

Boas Festas, Happy Holidays, lots of love!

baby, it's cold outside

I was really looking forward to another Caribbean Christmas (click), but it seems, at the last minute, that it isn't in the cards this year.

For a day or two, I was excited about staying in Brooklyn. I listened to Petula Clark sing "Baby It's Cold Outside" at least 20 times.


I walked around, admiring Christmas lights.

My favorite, a fox in the snow.


I baked peppermint and peanut butter kisses for a party (while listening to Petula Clark.)


I donned a festive and shimmering gold sweater for said parties.


And tromped cheerily through the snow to arrive.

And then, I thought, "Baby, it is cold outside," and briefly considered stowing away on a container ship (click).



I found myself feeling more, "Fox in the Snow" than Petula Clark, and then I thought...don't I have a half a ticket to L.A. leftover from this spring? As it turns out, I do. So I bought the other half, and now this fox is getting out of the snow, headed to San Clemente for a few days in the waves.

good morning

hallelujah, holy shit

Well, I'm writing this post by candelight, and not because it's Hannukah.


Just a little while ago, not long after I finished my final re-write (graduation is tomorrow morning), I was doing a little housekeeping. My head was in the hall closet when suddenly everything went bright white and blue, and there was a loud buzzing sound.

It wasn't a Christmas angel descending on Hooper Street, but rather my living room light fixture, spewing sparks and igniting a small flame on the ceiling. An involuntarily yelp leapt from my lungs and I slammed off the light switch and called 911.

Three wisemen (hot firemen) turned up lickety split. The flames had died down by then, so they just knocked down part of the ceiling to make sure there were no embers still burning, and told me to have the super make sure the circuit breaker was off.



I had planned on having a Bloody Mary before graduation in the morning, and I'd say I still will, but it will likely be with Stefan, my stupendous super, while he fixes the wiring. He said he'll come early so I can get to school on time.

If I hadn't been home when this happened it could have been a really bad scene. But I'm just chillin' here in the dark with my corner store candles and a small pile of my ceiling swept up into the trash can. All my school-work is done, dad is on his way in from the airport, and I'm going to get a manicure. All's well that ends well.

what is a quince?

Every time I think about that man in the audience asking where my sweater came from (click) I can't help thinking of White Men Can't Jump, when Rosie Perez finally gets to bring it with "foods that start with the letter Q."

I still have a couple of rewrites to do before graduation on Wednesday, but you better believe that by Thursday, I'll be celebrating over Quahogs and Quarterdecks. 

good night.

CUNY, Room 308, after it all went down. (click!) I'll explain more later, but for now, I am so happy, and ready to sleep. More details to come...

CLOSETTOUR

First I was Gathering String (click), then I was trying to solve the Sartorialist's Dilemma (click), but now I've landed on CLOSETTOUR (click).


I know, it's been a bit of an identity crisis, but that's what getting dressed is like sometimes. The blog you see at CLOSETTOUR right now is just the beginning of what I hope the project will grow to be. I'll write more as it develops, but for now, please note that CLOSETTOUR is the new Sartorialist's Dilemma.

"It sounds like an animal. It came from the Planet CLOSETTOUR!" Joe Walker, hyperlocal blogger, The New York Times

I think he meant it sounds like a planet. Come visit me there! (Click.)

thanksgiving

thank you
thank you
thank you
thank you
thank you