....in November I didn't take any notes for this episode (as if it were some new TV show or something), so that's a good start.

Let's see, lovelies, the first thing that's always on my mind during November is my upcoming birthday. It's next Wednesday (3 days, everyone!) and I get SO psyched about it, I start a marathon of telling people about it multiple times a day on the 21st of November, precisely. That's because my oldest close friend was born ten days before me and her birthday rings in the festive season for me. Now, I get to plan out a lovely brunch, a relaxed day at home (I'm so sick of trains), a nice dinner with friends....Thinking about it, I still didn't make neither my reservations nor my nail appointment. And I have yet to pin down an outfit. Oh my....

Random Fashion Fear: If it gets way too cold outside, I will have to find some super power thighs so that I can continue to wear nothing but skirts and dresses to school and feel great about what I'm wearing and therefore myself. Also, how do you prevent your nose from getting Rudolph-Red from the cold?

I'll be repeating myself, but Christmas is right around the corner and couples do seem to go even more cozy and cuddly and cutesy and co-dependent and annoying (sorry, couldn't think of a negative word with c, except for carnage and that seemed a bit too harsh in this context). Do I sound like a crazy old cat lady (crazy wouldv'e been one I guess)? Maybe, but I can assure you I don't look like one, I just subscribe to some (just one or two) of their principles. The one with the cats. And the one with the "I don't need a man to ever be happy" thing.
Honestly, I think they're taking all of that a bit too far, 'cause once you've made that clear, it's totally fine to fall in love and spend your life with a special someone, because everyone knows you're not sacrificing your identity and all that, so why not get a nice white dress and enjoy yourself forever? Just don't be as obnoxious about it as those people who take a perfectly lovely literary quote and then completely ruin it with a duck face pic and a tagged douche who comments something illiterate such as "your mine" (It hurts to write that). Thanks.

You know what's become evident about my current college situation (having a class of 11, 'cause 3 already quit, and being away from your social circle 4 days a week)? There's rarely any gossip. I just realized it thinking about what juicy insight I could provide you with. Isn't that sad? I don't even mean scandalous, friendship-tearing gossip, just something small to blow out of proportion behind well-manicured hands. I feel like I haven't talked about anything but projects and delays and stupid booklets I have to produce without a clue on how to do that in AGES. Where is the college chatter? The spice of studies? See, I can't stop making ridiculous puns about it! Tell me something sparkly, won't you?

I bet you will.

Love,

Rosy Smith


PS: Oh, there's something exciting- not my usual style to talk about this, but this month I've had over 1000 views and that made me very very happy and I just wanted to say thanks so much and come again, it's fun here x

   

....when you're sitting in bed, all set to go to your loveliest friend's house in the morning when she'll be back from her two months abroad, and she texts you: Gosh, I hate surprise visits!! And now you have to stuff the clowns back into the van and explain to them why you won't pay.

Thankfully, I was wise enough not to arrange fireworks spelling out my loveliest friend's name or anything like that, or I seriously would've had to think about how the hell to get out of a contract. Since the plan has only been to casually drop by her house with some cookies and another friend, however, we decided to go for it anyway; after all, she couldn't possibly have included us in her declaration of hate towards surprises. Or could she?? Panic-struck screenshot sending while fearing to mix up her and my partner in crime in my contacts followed.

11 pm Another complication: My loveliest friend ominously wrote: "It's not you who's coming tomorrow, is it?" Her mom, third in our conspiracy trio, had told her in preparation to get dressed appropriately the next day and hereby lit her suspiciousness. More screenshots and nonchalant answers as in "well, at least you won't be in your PJs, so all bad parts of the surprise are gone, technically, aren't they?"
Notice how I try to subtly change her attitude towards surprises.

11:30 pm Have to hold myself back from accidentally texting her about how excited I am to surprise her. That would be pretty stupid.

Day x, 1 pm Sitting in my car across the street from her house. I had to park twice until I got a space that wasn't in front of an entrance. Now I'm eying the windows and the street, feeling like a private investigator. It's actually kind of fun.

1:10 pm Her mom quietly ushers us in. Feeling very conspirative indeed as we tip-toe up the stairs, following the music coming from her room....

Good things are from Paris

And there we are, and there she is, her hands on her hips as she's laughingly scolding us for being so secretive before all of us hug and get all unicorn fluffy....and then we sit down on the fuzzy carpet and have cake and tea, as you do, and have a very lovely time.

So, if you ever plan to surprise somebody....hit me up, I think I like it.

Love,

Rosy Smith

Def: “The table drummers, the fitting jeans-carriers, the ones with the nice haircut and headphones dangling from their shirtnecks, the ones with the guitarist wrists and lullaby voice and the kind of thoughtfulness that’s necessary to write a song but also enough self-confidence and humor to be thrilling onstage. Easy to fall for, hard to catch alone (and single).”

So, I wrote this totally validable definition of band guys for the world to treasure and teach their children back in 2013. The reason for that's been that I'd been crushing on one of them at that time....and reminiscing about it, almost all of the boys I've ever been into have been members of that species.

No.1, front man of this group which was, like, the rock band of our school. He was the designated hearthrob and I've mentioned him quite a few times 'cause hell I had it bad for him. The first time I've ever seen him, without surprise, had been on stage, when he sang his heart out to a cover version of "Through Glass" by Stone Sour. I'm still in love with that song. You should've seen how he held on to the mic holder when he hit the high notes. Isn't that what a girl's dreams are made of?

No.2, somebody who wasn't even in a band, nor was he especially attractive (putting it the nice way), but he played the piano sometimes and I was always "coincidentally" hanging around there, trying to share deep glances with him to classical music. It was so awful.

No.3, a cute boy-next-door type who was nice and thoughtful and jokey and probably wouldn't have been of any interest to me at all if he hadn't had his own band and wrote his own songs and recorded this demo and stuff. I was infatuated with - or let's call it fascinated by -  his passion for words and music, just like mine, and he had some pretty good tunes, and when he played the guitar and got all absent-minded, I thought we shared something deep.
Gosh, we would've been SO BAD together.

No.4, a lovely, lovely guy I've met this summer. He was so right about so many things. And he was not right for me in so many ways. But he had a guitar, and he had such a great taste in music, and we could talk about it for so long, and he took such great interest in my taste in music, and we made music together, and something about the way he looked at me when he played just made me very happy.

That's it so far. Let's see if there'll be more band guys crossing my path. Until then, tell me about the ones you met!

Love,

Rosy Smith

Believe me, I've tried. I checked my class schedule and figured out the day I have most classes together with the special someone of that time and planned my outfit according to this, meaning that I usually wore all of my favorite things on these particular occasions. When he didn't show up at school then, it was a very frustrating waste of a perfectly good outfit. When he did show up, he didn't even notice, so it was also a very frustrating waste of a perfectly good outfit. What I'm trying to say is, it does no good to get all dolled up and sparkling just for a particular person who might not even care  - and then feel like a trashbag on all other days because you're thinking "what for?". That's so wrong, it makes me cringe.

Let's play a little imagination game here, shall we? What if, hypothetically, you run into the guy of your dreams on a badly dressed day? Your answer now is probably, well, crap. Now you'll be all alone forever and ever. But that isn't the right conclusion, lovelies! The right conclusion here would be, well, crap, now I missed out on the chance on a love life because I didn't have the guts to talk to him because I'm not wearing my confidence-clothes because I thought I only need them on the days with A-period lunch, and that, everyone, is the fatal mistake.

The first thing we need to get straight here is that you should never, ever, choose your clothes with a view of what your crush, or your boyfriend, or the stranger on the L-train seems to like. The key is to wear something you yourself absolutely adore. If that's jeans and t-shirt, good for you. If that's low-cut and high rising everything, you do you. Because if you are aware of the fact that these clothes look damn fine on you, everybody is going to notice you differently - they will have to think you're fabulous since you leave no doubt to that fact.

So don't ever decide to wear the old shirt you don't really like because its sleeves are kinda too short and you always have to pull at them again, simply because you're not "seeing anyone important today" or to not wear the tight dress which enhances your figure because your boyfriend "doesn't like when you dress provocatively". Your wardrobe is your business and it's also your key to feeling great about the way you look and therefore a whole new attitude! Pick your favorite things every day. If you don't have enough of these, go shopping (Gosh I'm getting too materialistic again).

Everything goes, lovelies.

Love,

Rosy Smith

....oh, where do I begin. The most obvious one, I guess, are delays. I've started dreading the train announcments 'cause they usually crash all my hopes on getting home at a decent time and make me go through various stages of emotions, from hysteric rants in public to equally hysteric laughter to zen-like smiles which are, actually, hysteric as well. And that happens at least once a day.

So, when the train is finally being announced, at last, I grab my 200 pound bag from next to me on the chairs in the smoker's zone 'cause they're the only ones available, cough the smoke out of my lungs, get into an expectant position - and almost fall onto the tracks trying to catch a glimpse on the "arriving train", because it's not arriving within the next five minutes people. Zen-like smile.

If I'm lucky, I get a seat. If not, I'm blocking the hallway, feeling like I'm about to pass out on my heels in the murderous heat 'cause I can't take off my coat, drawing inapropriate comparisions between animal wagons and our current situation, praying that I smell nicely 'cause I'm holding onto the ceiling above a guy's head. What happened to the whole guys standing up for ladys tradition, anyways? I get so passive aggressive, in fact, that I have thought of a system where everybody has to hold little signs stating when they'll get off so that people like me who commute can sit down instead of those who are resting their poor body for a single stop. Like, that should be a law.

The funny thing is, most of the time, I could practically take a nice walk alongside the train, because it is SO damn slow. It's like it couldn't hold in its delay schedule if it would actually function according to its purpose, and that would be such a shame, wouldn't it.

Moreover, a couple of weeks ago, I slipped on the bus and pirouetted straight into this guy I'd been eying for the whole ride, elegantly swearing. All I remember now is that his face was basically in breathing distance to mine and he grinned weirdly and I said sorry and twirled right back into position thinking unspeakable thoughts and holding on to the grab handle like I was paid for holding on to poles (ain't I witty). The moral of the story is that you get WAY too close to random people on public transport. I have to hold on to stranger's shoulders to get off the train without falling flat on my face. I have to share a 4 seat compartment with three old men drinking beer straight out of the bottle (isn't that a violation to some sort of code?). I have to endure some pre-med student's arm brushing along my leg 'cause he genuinely doesn't mean to harass me but can't put his stupid jacket on any other way! I've developed a pretty effective technique to do so without touching anyone. I'd be happy to draw you a chart, lovelies.

I'll stop now before I use any swear words (I'm proud I've made it this far), but without a doubt there'll be more of these.

Can't wait.

Love,

Rosy Smith

....so I guess since I'm a fashion student (even though we journalists aren't expected to dress in crazy striped socks and platform everything, having to appear serious over the whole scene) I might as well mention the whole Balmain x H&M thing and pretend I've got something insider-y to say about it. Ready, lovelies?

I actually didn't know about Balmain (Shame? Or not? You tell me) until not-so-long-ago, so I wasn't immediately excited about this collab - I've never really been about any of the H&M collabs, though, because honestly, it doesn't feel as awesome to own a designer piece with an H&M tag in it as the real deal does. I mean, it is pretty cool that they do that, so that one can benefit from the unique design quality of the respective labels without having to break the bank (or maybe just a small one)....however, I don't know, I simply cannot fully get into these affairs.

But some of my classmates (here ya go, fashion college spirit and all) sure did - they were so commited, in fact, that they spent the night camping in front of the flagship on 5th, not minding the cold and the drizzle. Some of us were in awe of their determination to be early in line, some a little weirded out (I was. I mean, come on, rain. And the clothes are a bit too flashy/military/green for me to be desirable), but it was definitely the topic we were dissecting while in first period this morning, much to the astonishment (and I think despair) of our oblivious teacher. Instagram updates followed fast - #allBalmaineverything - and the whole room was silent when one girl actually got through on the hopelessly overstrained hotline to order her wishlist. "I'd like No.....that's still available? Great!" *collective breath* "And No...."*holding it in again* "Oh, your system's crashed?" *looking at each other like, can you believe that?*

I can. It's weirdly fascinating, isn't it, how people go all out and trip over their barely tied shoe laces to get  their hands on a few pieces by a big name in a store they'd usually joke about, go in to buy a tank top and come out with six new outfits which happened to block the way to the changing rooms.

At least that's how I do it.

Anyhow, I may feel like buying high fashion should be a slightly different experience than a rock concert / The Hunger Games, but whoever's a fan of Balmain might have gotten really lucky today,, and that's always lovely, don't you think?

Love,

Rosy Smith