....I like quotes. Not neccessarily those who pop up first on brainyquotes.com, or those who get printed on coffee mugs which then get posted on tumblr where the actual quote first catched the coffee mug printer's eye (and that, everyone, is the digital age cycle of life. Turn that into a quote!). I mean, I have scrolled through tumblr and been like: This might be "another one of those inspirational phrases", but it's a really good inspirational phrase. It's actually inspiring.

But additionally, I love real, literary quotes. You know, classic ones out of Pride and Prejudice and Gone With The Wind and Wuthering Heights, or contemporary ones, or even books I've read in school. I think it's so fascinating how just a few sentences, sometimes even only one, can express a certain feeling, or mood, or attitude, and make you feel like everything you've been trying to say and failed to before is now written out perfectly. It's even more thrilling that you might find parallels between your life and, say, Alice in Wonderland? Doesn't that make everything so much more exciting?

Oh, and Shakespeare. I admit it doesn't all make sense to me. But it sounds mesmerizing.

I've actually been one of those kids who really, truly enjoyed analysing (I have a feeling I spelled that wrong and that would be completely mortifying) poems, and scenes, everything. I don't care if you think that exclamation mark simply happens to be there. Don't tell me the author didn't think about that. He probably didn't - but I freaking do and I will put some meaning into that no matter how.

Love,

Rosy Smith

For as long as I can remember, I've been doing a lot of things at once -  or at least, I tried. I wrote To-Do lists in class so I wouldn't miss a hundred assignments as well as forgetting to practice the piano while still not buying a birthday present for my friend. Trust me, all of this could happen, since even though I make notes all of the time, they're usually all over the place on pieces of paper I find 5 years later, in books I never open again, on the back of my hand where they fade away....Knowing myself, I often made these lists so that I had everything in one place. Hence my longing for a filofax (see here). I also multitask in that I try to read while doing my make-up, do my homework while participating in class, text while blow-drying, etc. I like to know I can get it aaaall done in a particular time and day, that everything is somehow going to fit in, no matter how late I am, or how much time it supposedly takes. It might mean I'm a control-freak. But it might as well simply mean I'm late a lot.

This Thursday for instance, I was getting ready to attend a musical show with my dad and was putting on blusher when he called for us to go - I hadn't had dinner yet and my mom insisted I ate some before the show. However, I refused to do so since I hadn't even come to eye shadow and we were running late already (see?), so she made me take food with me to eat in the car, which is something I've done so many times before (hence the introduction): Picture me sitting in a car, all dolled up, with my curls clipped back and getting crumbles all over my dress. Such glamour!
Having gone through with that, the critical part is on: Applying my lipstick,

Lovelies, you might remember that my choice of color is usually some kind of red. On Thursday, it was the Manhattan All In One Lipstick in 660 Bite My Lip .


So I waited until we were driving a straight line, whipped out my brush and started to outline my lips, keeping a tight grip on the brush and hoping there wouldn't be a sharp stop because then, I just might stab myself in the throat and I guess that wouldn't have looked so pretty. I discovered that when you firmly place the brush against your lips, you can just go with the flow (of driving) and somehow, your lips get filled in - it's like with one of these magic pens that draw circles by themselves. Also, you should really use the rearview mirror instead of the one in the sunshade, because if you have to look up you won't be able to keep your arm as still and are more likely to mess up. I am proud to say that I got a decent result withour looking like I put on warpaint in form of red streaks all over my face. However, I did kinda ruin my tights when my dad asked for his phone and I dropped the lipstick and it fell into the space between my hemline and my legs. But hey, good score, don't you think so?

I feel like applying lipstick in a moving vehicle should be considered a professional skill - actually, to me, it is a perfect verbalism of a the modern-day independent woman who has a lot going on but manages it all with a beaming, slightly breathless, lipstick smile.

And, you know, is late a lot.

Love,

Rosy Smith

....So, it's summer, the days are hot and the nights are long and perfect for going out. This is why this time of the year is also called dating season (not sure that's official, but it should be). But, as it is a cruel, cruel world which is so unlike The Notebook most of the time, it's not all fun and games. In fact, my loveliest friend and I came to the conclusion that in between all the horrible scenarios and faux-pas that could happen, it is a very rare phenomenom if a date actually isn't bad. However, a girl can dream, right? That's why I am going to tell you about a truly perfect date and you are going to sit back and relax and enjoy the story like a nice little fairytale and imagine that you're the main character....

It starts with him calling you unexpectedly. You have met before, but he didn't say he was gonna call, and you didn't really think he was gonna call, and you were perfectly fine with having spent some time with such a nice person without having to wonder when he is gonna call or if he is ever going to do so or if he just said it to be polite or if you shouldn't dare to think somebody's actually gonna call you. No, you are contently sitting at home doing something irrelevant, when the phone rings and he's there and he says that he was wondering if you wanted to go out with him some time. He knows this lovely small restaurant down by the river you've never been to and you say that you'd like that, because of course, you're very happy that he asks 'cause honestly, deep down you have hoped that he'd call- you do want to see him again, as soon as possible. Tomorrow?, he asks, which is flattering. You pretend to check your calender, though ("never be needy" has basically been etched into your brain forever) and he says he'll pick you up in his car (I'm warning you, I'm a sucker for the old-school act) and that he's looking forward to it and after you hang up, you call your best friend, because duh. Let the outfit choosing begin....

Cut to the next day. You're looking effortlessly pretty in your favorite new red summer dress (choose your own color) and some light heeled sandals. Your hair has been totally cooporative and smoothly flows past your shoulders, you have not put out your eyeball with the mascara wand and your lipstick doesn't make you look like a total slut. He's there at 6 sharp and you're ready on time (this is the point where it gets utopic), so you just grab your bag and float out the door. If he's a real gentleman, he's brought some simple white flowers, but that's not a must seeing as it might be a bit too much thought for a first date with somebody you haven't known for long. Anyways, to speed it up a little, you have a fun drive out of the city and the restaurant lies next to a sparkling river and has a terrasse with a table for two under a scenic pavillon and there's fresh flowers in simple glass vases and candles on the table, but they don't get in the way while you're eating your rice which doesn't get everywhere and is easy to swallow and you are having a truly inspiring conversation about literature highlighted with some funny anectodes from your childhoods, but not the emberrassing ones which involve nudity, but the cute ones which show how bright you've always been. The topic of food is not being brought up (see, N?) and when the check comes, he takes it before you can even think about the right way to ask who is gonna pay how much.

You leave the restaurant but it's still so beautiful outside what with the obligatory sunset and everything and you both still want to enjoy each other's company (although none of you has to ask if the other one would rather go home, that would be too awkward) so you take a stroll along the river and talk about really existential things, but so jolly and freely that it isn't too weird and involves a lot of laughter, and somehow, he takes your hand without you even really noticing. Scratch that, you obviously notice and get way too excited about it, but no sweaty hands occur, you just smile up at him in that "I know you like  me but I'll pretend I don't know but just so you know, I know, and I like it, I might even like you too"- way, and you'll both be confident in your mutual affection and able to relax and have fun. Then, you'll drive home in some kind of giddily tenseness, because when you're home, the well-known question is going to come up....Is he going to kiss you?

But since this is THE perfect date, you're not fussing over it, you simply let him walk you up to your front door, there'll be an epicilly romantic/funny, whatever you prefer, two-liner and he'll lean in to kiss you, and it'll be awesome and lovely and passionate but not slobbery, heaven forbid. After you finally untangel, he'll ask you when he might see you again and you say, soon, and he'll say he'll call you and he will, this time expectedly, and you'll go to sleep in a daze of amazement, bearing the knowledge you just experienced a honestly perfect date.

Sweet dating dreams, lovelies,

Love,

Rosy Smith