So, I'm not too informed on how other people handle this, but I feel like in a relationship, there have to be two kinds of occasions to meet the other person. On the one hand, it's the nights in with a movie or some board game (can't you just feel my youthful spirit) where you just talk and make out and stuff and eat pizza on the floor. Those nights are pretty great, don't get me wrong. In fact, I went out all day yesterday with my oldest friend and her crowd and by the end of the day I was really wishing I'd been having one of those pizza nights instead of standing around all day in flat shoes and still getting back pain from it.

However, the other kind of thing is as important as those: Real dates. As in "taking someone out for it".  Obviously, you have to think these ones through a bit more, and I find that especially hard (I like to be the one who gets taken out rather than the taker), but I've come up with some ideas to make it easier, so here we go:

Make sure that transportation is taken care of. There's nothing worse than having to figure out logistics for what's supposed to be a romantic adventure, so don't even suggest me taking the train to meet you somewhere. I'm a big defender of the old value of a man picking up a girl in his car. If you don't have one, or can only break out your family's old station wagon, don't give up: Just rent one! There's a peer-to-peer car rental company called Turo that allows you to choose from lots of different types of cars (even race cars, if you like it fast) without having to deal with a big rental company. I looked up available cars in New York just now, and even for little money you can get some pretty cool rides, no matter if you just want something to flash your date with when showing up at her doorstep or if you plan on making the car the attraction and head off to a week-long road trip. Check out their website!

Choose a place that feels like a date. I'm talking restaurants with dimmed lights and discreet waiters who appear by your side with a ghostly swoosh; jazz cafés with low chairs and a twenties-feel to them where it's not weird to start dancing tightly intertwined; old-school movie theatres with plushy seats, cocktail service and classic Hollywood flicks on the program. Not your local steak house with an all-you-can-eat salad buffet and screaming kids in the next booth. Give me something to dress up for, won't you?

Or choose a place that you feel your date would like. Obviously you can screw all of the above if you know that your special company would die for the Mac n Cheese at the Red Lobster (I've never been there, thinking about it, but who knows) but no one ever goes with her 'cause her friends hate seafood (whatever). Or if she is a Disney freak who'll gladly be joined by a mob of middle school girls on their class trip to the newest installment of Frozen (will there be installments? I should do my research more thoroughly). Anything that makes someone happy will make for a good date, so it doesn't need to be featured in the ten pm newsflash to go well.

Don't give anything away. I am so into being taken out, my vision of a perfect plan is a plain "Be ready at seven" eg. the fact that I don't have to plan a thing. Call me unfeminist, but I have no problem at all with not knowing how it's about to go down - I trust him with knowing enough about my idea of fun to not make me jump off a building or something else that will ruin my hair. Also, it's so much more like a sweep-me-off-my-feet movie scene where the hero just grabs the heroine's hand and shows her the beauty of the city/the fun of being a streetcat (AristoCats is the joy of my existence)/basically a good time.

Have fun, too. I am aware that I mostly talk about the took-outs part of the deal, but you see: A date is, essentially, simply something to do while you're spending time with someone you like, and who wants to spend time with a cranky human who doesn't like what you're doing at all? Right, so the point is that whatever you're doing, both of you should enjoy. Mood is everything, ain't it so?

Love,

Rosy Smith

So I am perfectly aware of the fact that relationships might consist of just a little something more than superficial terms. I'm just saying that in a world where the first thing you notice about someone is their appearance and not their title, where you're probably gonna live together 24/7 in a limited space and not occasionally meet in a large fairytale castle, there are certain things that have me seriously thinking about my priorities when choosing who to date.

That being said, let's dive right into the judging, shall we?

He's too tall. We all know the old "he's shorter than me" sermon, but honestly, doesn't anyone think about the opposite? Of course it's great that he's taller than me. However, I'm a striking 5'2'', so that's not exactly a rare thing. If somebody extends a certain height, though, I'm afraid it'll look very stupid, us kissing and such, especially if I have to climb onto something first so he doesn't develop a back problem. There aren't as many things to climb onto in this world as you'd think there are.

He chews with his mouth open and acts as if there's nothing wrong with it. I'd be out the window and running if a guy was chewing in my face, that's for sure. See, if there's one thing I dislike without apparent reason, it's eating with people I find attractive. I just can't stand it. Don't get me wrong, I like food, but as soon as I'm around an interesting guy, I become a Southern Belle who has to watch herself while eating or else she won't ever get married and on top of it all, is gonna faint. The worst thing about that, though, is that I expect cute guys to act the same way. We'll eat, it's fine, but for the love of God, pretend we're not actually doing so. Take small bites. Close your mouth. Chew inaudibly. We're good.

He doesn't read. I'm sorry, but I cannot fathom people who do not enjoy absorbing written pages with their eyes. How is this relationship going to work out if he doesn't understand half of what I'm saying 'cause it's references to Gone With The Wind? How is he supposed to laugh at my jokes if he doesn't get my fine sense of irony that was build through years and years of romantic comedies by Meg Cabot? It's destined to be a failure.

His texts are grammatically wrong. People who don't take the time to spell-check don't deserve real conversations. I'd get infuriated every time I'd open one of his messages even before I'd fully grasp the sense of them, so my answer'd be short and cold, and he wouldn't understand why and call me stuck-up, and if there's one thing I hate being called it's stuck-up, and we'd get in a vicious circle of a fight even though all he did was ask me to our first date and forget the second "n" in "dinner".

He's wearing stupid shoes. By that I mean these kind of sneakers which are obviously thrice the size of his actual feet. Why would you try to make them look unproportional to your body? And why do you want to wear shoes as white as the ones nurses wear? How is that going to look in combination to some nice clothes? Stupid, that's what it's gonna look like, and that's why I call them this. I could go on about nice clothing forever, however, I feel like the shoes are the most distinctive thing, and if they're bulgy and white like the Michelin man, they're way too distinctive.

I mean, if you're already deeply in love with the guy, I guess you'll have to live with these things. But if you're still on the look-out, be alert. Or, you know, if you don't mind the chewing (bless you) but are totally against diet coke lovers, watch out for that.

To each his own, lovelies!

Love,

Rosy Smith

PS: I wrote this in December for a UK dating website's blog called OnlyDates (check it out here.... http://www.onlydates.co.uk/5-unreasonable-reasons-date-somebody/) and just decided to publish it on here as well - not sure if that's good manners, but I guess there's no law against it or anything. I hope.
 

....college edition. I really like food, you know.

TUESDAY: Cereal for breakfast, as you have at the crack of dawn (though I think it wasn't too early that day, actually). My signature Mint Chocolate Mocca at school ('cause not too early is still early). A mint gum snatched from a friend because time until lunch always stretches and I need something to do. Then, lunch kinda passed as we tried to get someone semi famous to be part of our workshop (that one didn't really work out) and on the way home I felt like I needed some stuffed crust Pizza Hut badly or I'd faint, so there you go. Gosh, I love that stuff.

WEDNESDAY: Today did start early, for a change, so the first thing I swallowed was a hot, delicous sip of a Caramel Latte (they didn't have the chocolate syrup, which has been sad). Later, we went to see our interviewee and ended up being totally fashion journalism insider chic, lunching in a deli where they serve you some brown, crusted bread with a thin layer of avocado cream and call it a sandwich. Don't get me wrong, I felt very good about myself, being healthy and all. It was good, too. It's just that I had to munch on my cereal while strolling along fifth (a sight to relish) 'cause I was still kinda hungry. That's why I had about half a packet of fruit gum throughout the rest of the day. And a daiquiri at 5 pm (dates are easier without food, but better with drinks). And some more gum.

THURSDAY: I pledged to be better today and had some gum on my way to school. Guess what, some cereal later. Lunchtime wouldn't come 'cause we were cutting our interview and it took hours so I spiced it up with some mint gum, again. Chewing in harmony, we started talking about lovely meals and I was starving by the time we could go out, so I ordered a huge bowl of vegetable pasta. A weird thing about me: Sometimes, I get horribly hungry but after a couple of spoonfulls I feel like I've been stuffing my face for hours and can't possibly take another bite. So I finished.
And got some gum.

Last but not least, tonight I actually cooked! Can you believe it? I made noodle soup, one of my signature dishes (it really takes something to find the right amount of spice) and cleaned out every last bit of  it. You know, all that gum makes you want something homely.

Question of the day: Can you overdose on lavendar?

Think about it.

Love,

Rosy Smith

....also known as the most stressful day of the holiday season. At least, for me. Cause it's the day before we go away and as people who are about to go on a trip tend to do, everybody decides to freak out a little and overstuff their suitcases with things they won't use to save their lifes and tries to think of the one obligatory thing they've forgotten but can't remember, which is usually something unessential like a bathrobe (they've got you covered at a hotel, duh) but knowing there's something you had thought of at one point can bother you for years.

....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

....I mean, I wouldn't scream at them, or start crying ( I hope), but I would fire some really random and way too personal questions at them, so I'd probably get carried away by a security guy and that would be it with the close friendship.

That's why I am gonna keep these questions to myself and only share them here (or find an appropriate moment and be really subtle):

Avril Lavigne: Please tell me you and Evan Taubenfeld dated. Or even better, have always been in love with each other but respectively didn't want to ruin your friendship so you never adressed the subject but deep down, you're the perfect match and that's why your marriages never worked out - so do you plan on confiding in each other any time soon and live happily ever after?

Ed Sheeran: Is "Small bump" a non-fictional story? In other words, did you and a girlfriend ever expect a child?

Taylor Swift: What is "Innocence" about? Does it have anything to do with mental health? And what exactly would be the structure of your hair if you'd just let it air-dry?

Imagine that. I would sound either creepy and/or like an especially nosy Ok! Magazine journalist. Just the kind of sound that makes you wish to confide aaall of your innermost feelings and thoughts and the consistency of your hair, don't you think?

Composure is key, 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

I think it's not vain of me to say that I have pretty nice lashes. See, I do have dark hair and brown/green eyes (is that hazel or not? I deem that expression to be very confusing), so dark lashes just suit my type. That being sad, I remember how all of my friends who started out with make-up a few years ago began by using some concealer (or rather, these sticks to smear over red pimples to make them look like skin-colored pimples instead), lightly tinted lipbalm and, you'll guess, mascara. I went in on the pimple sticks, but I didn't really feel the need to darken my lashes, so I didn't. I was more intruiged by putting on lots and lots of pink and soon enough red lipgloss. Black lashes I had, but lips can't be red enough, can they?

Of course I own mascara. I'm not one to withstand material wealth. I'm on my third one (you may gather I don't exactly observe expiration dates); I've had a very cheap one for Halloween, a KIKO one afterwards 'cause I heard they were good, and right now I'm the proud possessor of the Roller Lash Mascara by Benefit. Proud, because it really does make my lashes look lovely, if I do say so myself. But, ugh, I just hate the fuss neccessary to take it off at night! To come home late, go to the bathroom and rub around on my eyes with some remover pads for what feels like hours, and yet it never fully vanishes and I get all paranoid about my lashes breaking at the tips or falling out for good and I either don't rest until there's not a particle of mascara left and my eyes are all red and irritated or I resignate and wake up the next day looking like I'm still in full make-up, with black-rimmed eyes like a groupie on the day after. It can be a good look at times, but I live in deathly fear of wrinkles. I shudder at the thought of them at this very moment.

Moreover, no matter what quality, as the day goes by I always freak out over lashes sticking together or itching or anything like that and I just want it off me. I'm not able to rub my eyes without having half of my face in a black mark on my hand afterwards and I don't always remember not to. So charming.

I also have this horrible fear of waking up one day and refusing to leave the house without mascara on. I know people whom I honestly wouldn't recognize without it and that's scary, don't you think? For once, it's a shame that people get so dependent and insecure, and secondly, who has the patience to apply mascara every single time they step in front of their door? It's so stressful. And probably gets expensive, going through so much product. I guess it's the same with cigarettes. The amount of times I've heard "of course I could live without it"....

Actually, no, no one ever says that. You don't joke about mascara.

Love,

Rosy Smith

....because it's part of my personality and it would be a shame to hide, don't you think?
So, let's get to know my idea of style....

I have been fascinated by the magical powers of appearance for such a long time that I honestly can't remember how it started or if there was anything in particular that made me be so conscious about it. Generally, I think that it's the same thing that lead me to love dressing up as aristocratic when I was a child: The need to establish myself as something I would like to be or like to think I already am and want people to know about. However, I found out that it is seemingly not socially accepted to wear long ballgowns and little white lace gloves on a daily basis (but why?) and so I searched for substitutional meanings of expression and found fashion. Now I am stacking magazines and shopping bags everywhere and I'll slam you with a Lagerfeld quote anytime the subject of sweatpants comes up.

Hence, I thought I'd generously share this passion (ain't I graceful) and start off by presenting a rough outline of my usual way of dressing and styling, so here we go.

While I try to specifically look for new colors to wear because I'm a little scared people might think I practice witchcraft (how come?) judging from my tendency to wear black, I still mostly end up in a white/black/grey scheme. I can't help it, and I feel like it's a pretty easy way to put together classic looks. Here, I'm wearing a vintage button up-top with a flowy skaterskirt from PacSun (I believe). I LOVE skirts and dresses- they instantly make me feel prettier and more confident 'cause they suit my personality: Very feminine and a little old-school. It's the same with heels, actually, though in this heat, I also trust in some lovely Aldo ballet flats. All in all, this is one of my favorite downtime summer looks at the moment.

As for make-up, I'm a red-lip fanatic: Bright, vampy, matte, I don't care, but I need it to be red. It's a lifestyle, lovelies. Along those lines, I tend to go for bronzy eyes by day and smokey eyes by night, both alternatively topped with a classic black liner and/or mascara, depending on my mood and the occasion. Fun fact, I actually don't really like wearing mascara.

Don't mind whatever the hell my mouth is doing here, just look at the color on my lids, that's what I mean by bronzy eyes.

So, I hope my fashion sense and you get along; I would love to know about yours.

Love,

Rosy Smith

.....it is kind of a weird concept, actually. If you have a crush on somebody, you're not in love with them. Still, you're not only in lust, most of the time. A real crush implies that you desperately want to be with this person and that your range of feelings varies from euphoric dancing on the street to writing really bad, really mean, really sulky love songs about the subject of your devotion (guilty). That can all be seriously fun. However, the one rule that always must be followed is this one: Don't ever mistake a crush for real love, because if you do, you're already in for some emotionally wrecking trouble.
To avoid such, here are some basics to recognize your feelings towards somebody as a case of crush....

1.Seeing him yawn can make you lose all interest you might have ever had in him.

That actually happens to me A LOT. Like, it's gotten to a point where whenever I notice a good-looking guy starting to yawn, I hastily look away to not ruin the decent impression they made. Nobody looks good while yawning. Nobody.

2.His new haircut makes you realize everything that is wrong with his face.

That's sad, but it saved you from a relationship solely based on some hair. One less bad story, lovelies.

3.You've never actually communicated with each other.

Also sad, but a pretty clear sign for a good ol' crush. Chances are that you are too shy and vulnerable to even think about giving him a signal (what even is a signal? Smiling? I smile at people all the time but I most certainly don't want to have any further contact with all of them. Leaning in when you talk? Firstly, that's offensive and secondly, you don't talk, remember?) and it would probably (bet on it) not work out at all if you did, because you don't really know this person. Leading to the next point:

4.You have planned out every single phase of your yet-to-exist relationship, sometimes even the break-up.

You meet, you crush, then you find yourself imagining a first date, a romantic slide show of couple-y activities, and then, for the hell of it, your first fight. Suddenly, you get bored of all the love and harmony going on in your fantasy world and you experience irrational fear of having to be with him forever, so you think of reasons to have a passionate fall-out followed by a heartbreaking goodbye scene, both preferably in the pouring rain. Still, it all only takes place in your mind.
 
That already doesn't sound normal, don't you think? And if it's not normal, then it's a crush.

I sincerely hope this helps. And if not, well, sorry.

Love,

Rosy Smith

So, lovelies, I'm writing this at 1 pm in my leggings and a slouchy sweater on a Thursday, after sleeping til half past nine and having breakfast watching The Big Bang Theory until 11 while everyone else is at work or school. Get it? Get it??

I'm done with high school, everyone! Tomorrow I'll officially graduate and finally get my diploma so that I can brag about it with proof in my hands.

Of course, that is not the only thing  that comes with gradutaion: There's also the big ceremonial part which will last forever and probably not be very exciting, except for the chance to look your very best and shine your brightest at school for one last time- and get some very nice pictures in the process. Oh, and a whole new part of life and all that. What's not to love?

That's been my mindset regarding this day up until now. Because now, I've watched a YouTube Video on How To Get Ready For A Big Event. Oh my. Don't do that unless the event ist about a month away, or you'll freak out like I did.

For example, it says: 1 week before X, start working on your complexion. It is currently about 14 hours before X and I have yet to brush my teeth. And fix my eyebrows. And get a pedi. And I'm in the choir and I can't find my sheet music.

But hey, I've got my sparkly black dress and my sparkly black Steve Madden heels and I sorta know what hair and makeup look I'm going for - wait, I need to buy some blush and bronzer (mine broke on vacation. Big mess.)- so everything should be alright....I hope. I seriously have to start on all of this now.

Gotta run and turn into the Homecoming Queen version of myself in less than a day; wish me luck.

Love,

Rosy Smith