Get Some Insight....November

Yes, I know, I have been terribly neglective, but I think I might (almost) have reasonable excuses. Also, Blogmas is starting on Friday, so by the end of December you'll have heard every thought that ever entered my mind, and some made up ones too, and until then, we got this:

Sorting out the magazine's wardrobe for the new season turns into group therapy sometimes. Last week, I sat on my little footstool (did I mention that footstool? I'm a fashion farmer), with my pen and delivery forms and a bunch of clothes huddled on my lap, and I spent a good half an hour listening to my fellow intern explaining the struggle of trying to plan Christmas with his boyfriend and their respective families. See, he did so much of the talking and arguing himself that all I got to do was thoughtfully nod and make understanding/surprised/appalled sounds - I never knew how many variations of non-judgmental facial expressions I got until now.

Turning into the dark lanes turns out well sometimes. I don't recommend trying it by yourself and in, like, a really bad neighbourhood, but my bestest friend and I went to St. Pauli the other night and found a very cozy bar away from the cheap vodka-to-go places and the drunken old men/sixteen year old boys. There was dimmed red light, vanilla cake and strong Caipirinha and we were the loudest people in the room, which means that it had to be really quiet, which I like in bars. There were, however, no unsolicited advances (unless that one guy walking over to look at the cake display by our table twice was meant as one). I like that, too.

There's no need for room diffusers once you bake something. I did that with friends, and my whole apartment smells delicious. And I spent a day eating nothing but Christmas cookies - didn't I say I'm livin' it up? I tried to replicate the sensation by myself, but I ain't got the gift, it seems. Or a recipe, for that matter.




Oh, there is this book called Christmas In New York (I think that's its name. It would be embarrassing if it wasn't, but there you go) which looks absolutely lovely and has all these stories and recipes and pictures that make you feel all warm and fuzzy inside. When I'm grown up and have a kitchen book shelf, I'm gonna put it there, and it's gonna be a triumph.

That's it for now - we'll meet again on Friday. And the day after that. And after that, and so on....

This shouldn't have sounded scary.

Love,

Rosy Smith