Even in this day and age of so-called communication, I often times encounter great misunderstandings, especially between the different sexes. It is generally assumed that women use secret girl code and are therefore impossible to be attended to since men are not genetically equipped to understand said code. However, I know way more men who seem to encrypt their true intention, and other than girls, they don't have a code pattern. They just do.

Before I get accused of bashing boys, let's bring in an example, shall we?

A guy who is obsessed with his girlfriend's birth control habits. Does she take the pill? Why won't she take the pill? Why is she getting annoyed when he's asking her if she's changed her mind about the pill? Firstly, none of this is his business. Obviously, he has a right to know if and what form of birth control she uses, so he knows what risk they're dealing with exactly (but they're all risks, aren't they?). But since it is her body and her hormonal messup, the final decision really does not include him. If he is not comfortable with the unwanted birth rate of anything other than the pill, then he may proceed not to have sex with her. So now we agreed that he does not have a real point, which is something he must know, what could be the reason for his behaviour? The only valid thing I can come up with is that he thinks she does not want to commit to taking a long-term contraceptive because she does not see them being a long-term couple. And that, lovelies, would be much easier to find out by simply asking the damn question.

Now onto the topic of coffee. I'll admit that I've asked someone out for a coffee before and imagined the situation to turn into a much more romantic one. But that was more or less understandable seeing that I already did all sorts of intimate things with that guy (like puking in hearing distance to him and wiping my snot on his shoulder. Using my grossest examples so that this does not get emotional). Okay and now that I think about it, our first date was also him asking me out if I wanted to get coffee sometime, BUT, and here I am thinking I'm right again, we ended up going for dinner and a movie, which is totally a date, and the coffee-question was just the opener for the conversation that led to the date, so technically, I'm totally right.

Just realized I didn't mention what I'm explaining to be right about.

I'm saying that, if you as a stranger ask me if I'd like to go out with you, and I say we can go for coffee "sometime", I am downgrading the situation from you asking me out on a date in the near foreseeable future to us grabbing a paper cup at our local Starbucks in the endless dust of "sometime". Because I'm not using a code phrase to let you know I like you, I'm stating facts: I only like you enough to encounter you in broad daylight, with other people being there, with you not spending more than five bucks on me (scratch that, I'll pay for myself), for a limited amount of time.

However, I fear that that might not be so clear to everyone out there.

Love,

Rosy Smith

Hi, hi, hello, let's skip the "yeah I kinda didn't post all month last month again" sermon and get right into it, shall we?

The first semester of senior year is almost over and I'm nowhere near confident about my project deadlines. I think so is everyone else in my class. We're a fun little group with great shoes and panic in our eyes, ordering too much coffee and spending the first half hour of every lesson down at the vending machine, eating our nerves. I got five seperate To Do lists and it turns out that "writing the whole pr concept" does not get any less time consuming just by putting a little dash in front of it. What a nasty surprise.

On the move to the copying machine. How very dynamic.

Some people do sports to reduce stress. I went to my beloved ballet class yesterday, with all the best of intentions. However, when the ballet baby (my teacher always brings her eight (or nine? I'm new with this) month old boy, who used to be a total delight, lying peacefully on his back, listening to the classical music; now he's still absolutely delighful, just way more mobile and sound-intense) began leaning out of his little car seat, and the others were all talking about the choreography and looking the other way, horrors began forming in my mind, but before I could alert his mom, his cute big head threw off his balance and he rolled out of the seat and onto the floor. He wasn't seriously hurt (though he sure cried like he had just been pushed out of a moving car) and his mom assured me that things like these happen all the time, but I'm deeply ashamed for not having said anything sooner. I don't even wanna know how much of an annoying helicopter I'll be if I have children one day. I'm already dancing the dying swan scene with an alarmed twitching in my eyes because I can see the baby in the mirror, grabbing the power chord of the stereo behind me. I mean, I love this class with all my heart. But I'm still a teensy bit stressed.

I'm more of a "carbs fix everything" kinda gal

Focus on the little things. I am sitting in my car after riding the train home for an eternity, parked in the parking lot, and I am devouring a cold slice of cheese pizza and washing it down with coke from a plastic cup while blasting Taylor Swift. That scenario might not sound especially desirable to you, but think about it: I got my own car with a drink holder. I got enough time to enjoy my lunch in here all by myself without rushing. I had just the three dollars for my pizza floating around on the bottom of my purse. I'm not lactose intolerant. And I get to decide what music to put on.

Plan fun things for when it's over. I booked a hotel room for September. I got no way of getting there yet, but we won't be nagging about details, are we? "Book as many trips as possible without digging too deep into your pocket, because you don't know if you're gonna get a job right after graduating" is....probably too long for a new bumper sticker.

But honestly, like I'd ever put a bumper sticker on my car.

Love,

Rosy Smith

Could say this matches the marriage theme but actually, just wanted to show off the dress

 Because why the hell not?

I mentioned before that I'm going to the gym now. Well, I've stopped. Because as far as flirting with the young instructor goes, he now feels it would be unprofessional to further pursue our flirtationship at the same time as him being my instructor, so obviously I quit the instructing part for the sake of my satisfaction. You haven't seen the chest on that man. Also, what a way to save money, am I right?

Mind you, I don't want to be his girlfriend. I'm unhappily in love with someone else, thank you very much. The last thing I need is a boyfriend I have to explain my sudden outbursts into tears to. But oh my gosh, those arms. Anyways, I made that very clear to him. I have a feeling that he's also unhappily in love with someone else still, so we're actually perfect for each other, speaking unhealthy-rebound-wise.

Now we crossed that tmi-line for good.

Meanwhile, other people are getting married. Remember that one guy my bestest friend very, very briefly dated two years ago? That slightly weird one who seemed to support kitchen kisses with other couples at that party? Yeah, he's getting hitched next year to his former on n off girlfriend from overseas. I am feeling a multitude of feelings towards these news, which is probably more than I should be, considering that I'm not really much acquainted with the happy couple. But think about it:

Firstly, how weird is it that my friend can now say "That one guy I once dated is currently on his honeymoon" or "Oh I don't know her, but I went out with her husband a few years ago"? How did we get this old? I mean, sure, they're also on the younger side in the marriage business, but still, it kinda freaks me out. Remember, I'm currently being complimented on my butt by a complete stranger and that is the maturity level we're at. Secondly, I know this guy through my certain someone and I so wish I could trash this topic with him instead of just imagining his side of the conversation while staring out the window with an amused look on my face. Also, and don't ask me how the decision of an almost-stranger does that to me, but it brings up all kinds of sorrowful thoughts and general anxiousness linked to the fact that I'm not in a position to call up my certain someone for the aforementioned trashing.

I like to pretend time is standing still.


Love,

Rosy Smith

I sure did! No worries, I'm still here, back at school, physically unharmed except for the big scratch on my underarm that my cat gave me - love hurts, lovelies.

So what's going on? The semester started a month ago but, as always, I didn't do nothin' to get my projects started until this morning. It's tradition. This is the final stretch, and it comes in the form of me creating a literary magazine. Why yes, three years of fashion have sure ruled out that topic for me. I'm all for this, actually, creating my own vision and ladidaa. Let's just hope that "I work best under
pressure" line works out once again, shall we?

I'm being a good girl and going to the gym. Not to work out, God forbid, but I'm taking classes like I did in Hamburg, stretching and stuff. Using the steam room, drinking protein shakes at the bar with my oldest friend and flirting with the young instructor - isn't that what gym life is all about? And it gives me something to do in the evenings when I'd usually just come home from college and cry about the fact that the day is already over. Which brings me to the next point:

Keepin' busy is key to survive senior year in style. I'm dead tired every single day, but it's the good kind of tired, which is not owed to working too much (I know, that is probably a bad thing given the deadlines) but to having too much fun things to do at night.

That sounds so wrong. Let me give you an example, I went to that yearly birthday party (I guess they're all yearly, but whatever) this weekend, and this time, I didn't meet any creepy guys, but I had a heart to heart with the host who is most definitely the sweetest thing alive. He's just come back from traveling to all kinds of crazy places and now he's producing his own music. Meanwhile, I'm still trying to figure out if I should wear a fringe (I'm leaning towards no, by the way)

All by myself....we ain't big on attendance

 What I'm saying is, I found that I get less cry baby-ish over my stupid commute (we can actually almost count down the days as far as that's concerned - only three more months!) if I gotta rush to the next event that same day, be it drinks in the city or a nice night of catching up with my bestest friend. She's got a boyfriend now, and he seems to be absolutely adoring, which I like to hear about, because it makes me very happy (so he better watch out and keeps it this way, 'cause I hate disappointment).

Writing and working and writing some more - that's what I want to do, all the time, because the doom of going out into the world and having to get a job and buying my own pasta and learning about laundry detergent is hovering upon me, and these are the only things I know to get prepared. Oh, and a good manicure paired with Rouge Dior. That never fails to help.

Good to be back.

Love,

Rosy Smith

I went on a little European adventure to visit my loveliest friend abroad, and I fell in love with Italy all over again (the first time I did was in 2016 when us two summered in the most adorable town by the sea and got us our very own gang with a quaint but nice neighbour)....

It's not always hot. In fact, the first thing I saw getting off the plane was the snowflakes falling down at crazy speed. Good thing I traveled in the fuzziest clothes I own, my black fake fur and a long wool skirt that made me look like one of the Olsen twins in their homeless-chic phase, but more on the homeless side (is that politically incorrect or a fashion term or both?).

There's always coffee. It's cheap. And it's good. I didn't even need caramel flavored syrup and chocolate infusions to get it down, like I usually would at home. Since the weather wasn't exactly the sunniest and we were more interested in catching up than standing in line for the duomo (it's very pretty from the outside, too) anyways, we made stops for coffee at least twice a day, which could last a couple hours. However, I feel like that's one of the best ways to get familiar with the country; watching people and the city going by and listening to other guests' conversations (even though my Italian is basically at level zero).

Sightseeing means strolling around high fashion stores all day long. The buildings are beautifully built and the clothes are gracefully presented and everyone crossing your way is carrying a well-known purse. Exactly my kind of vacation. Even the corner newsstand hands you a black shopping bag that could easily mean you've been shopping something way more expensive than the latest Vogue. Your crepe literally comes on a golden plate. I wonder what the trashbags look like.


The Lago di Como is a happy place where nothing bad can find you. We followed the weather forecast and took the train (the wrong one, forcing us to freeze on the platform in some village and put on a harmonizing performance of our childhood jams in order to keep warm, probably disturbing everyone else for life), and suddenly, it was 60 degrees instead of 30 and we were wearing sunglasses while drinking our coffee on a sunny piazza. I bought a red bag and red heels (in a store that was probably the Italian equivalent of Target, but still, it's Italian after all) and my loveliest friend got some gorgeous boots and equipped with our new belongings, we climbed up into the mountains (to board a train up to a mansion. Never found the train, almost suffered a heatstroke from unplanned exercise. But the view was awesome). We got ice cream that tasted like the strawberrys were handpicked that same day (a garbage collector came up to me when I was done and said something I obviously didn't understand; I thought he was mad at me for setting my empty cup down and tried to form a sentence swearing that I'd throw it away, but in the end he just took it from me and we left). And we walked all around the lake and watched the sun set over it and the swans swimming and stumbled upon romantic corners and scenic balconies every five steps.


Trains fail you like they do anywhere else, but in Italian. I was already calculating my ride to the airport closely, and when I rushed up to the platform, people were just shaking their heads at me when I asked "Airport?" with wide fear-struck eyes. Cancellato, said the sign, and no official was around to be found and none of the announcements were in English, so I kind of gave in and made my peace with missing my flight and staying another night (it's not the worst to be held up in Milan, is it?). Made it though, with a full ten minutes to spare (and feeling absolutely disgusting in my not-made-for-running-outfit).

I hope your March started off full of dolce della vita. Let's see how the rest of it goes....

Love,

Rosy Smith