Every Day Forever

Fashion week is here, which means that I get to feel way more special than I really have any reason to, thanks to having wound up on a couple of press lists that (given that I’m a food editor) I have absolutely no business being on. So Saturday I get to head to the tents (omg die) and here and there for the next week I get to go to parties where I am definitively the shortest, fattest person in the room. Definitely the person with the cheapest handbag. Almost certainly the person in the least-cool jacket, especially when this gal is around rocking her Marjan Pejoski spiderweb.

To clarify: this was taken at breakfast. At, like, 9:30 a.m. This lady is a winner. (And who is Marjan Pejoski? GASP. He is only the dude who designed Bjork’s swan dress! How could you not know that? I’m so embarrassed for you.)

My plans for spending today lazily reading, drawing, and idly sipping fine brown liquor while watching Hurricane Irene get its anticlimax on all over NYC were derailed at around 3:30 this morning when I woke up with sort of a roiling feeling in my stomach that quickly resolved into just a tremendous amount of puking that flared up at hourly intervals until about 1 p.m. A two-hour nap, half a liter of ginger ale, two Carr’s water crackers, and any number of ice chips later, I’m finally feeling less like death, but I also feel eminently cheated out of my Act Of God weekend.

One mild upside might have been the moment at around 4:15 when Irene was hurling with tremendous force outside the bathroom window while I, in concert, was hurling with tremendous force inside it. It was beautiful.

Raindance quadtypch, a photo by helenlikesyou on Flickr.

In honor of the impending hurricane that’s about to wipe out life as we know it in NYC (for myself, I’m hunkered down with Jim and assorted family members at my uncle’s apartment on the Upper West Side, where we’re in possession of tremendous amounts of junk food, cheese, Carr’s water crackers, single-malt Scotch, and pitchers full of tap water), I’m delighted to share this series of four photos I took during a slightly different New York act of god: the late July heatwave that hit at about 107 degrees. This kid is one of my personal heroes.

It’s really important that you know that I now own a cape. This cape, to be precise. And I intend to wear the hell out of it.

I’m still processing a lot of my Paris photos, with which I will no doubt deluge you in a few days. In the meantime, I would like to take this opportunity to tell the world that my first thought upon experiencing this afternoon’s earthquake (it was terrifying, you guys. I’m a midwesterner living in New York City; earthquakes are not part of my weltanschauung) was oh my god I am so glad I’m wearing flats today.

It’s emotionally painful because it’s true. Brilliantly realized by Kris Atomic.

I’m going to Paris tomorrow. It’s a work trip, to be fair, but one of the beautiful things about my job is that trips to Paris are part of it. Trips where in fact the point of the trip is to stay at a no-doubt beautiful hotel and eat remarkable food and generally exist, albeit with my journalistic powers of observation and absorption switched on, for as long as I can physically stand it, or until it is time to fly home, whichever comes first.

It’s amazing to me sometimes that Writer is a real job. Even more so things like Food Writer and Travel Writer, where you receive a paycheck for doing the things that most of the world engage in for pleasure and escape. Eating dinner! Going to Paris! It’s excruciatingly difficult to talk about certain parts of my job without sounding like a tremendous ass. It’s even difficult to complain about the difficulty. I mean, yes, I go to meetings, and I think about budgets, and I use (with pleasure, as it happens, and great abandon) corporatespeak acronyms like EOD and ROI and LOE, and I draft memos exhorting people to not forget that it is never, never okay to put two spaces after a piece of terminal punctuation, not ever. But then also there are the parts where someone is like Hello! Would you like to go to Paris to check out a new hotel? And I am like Yes! Yes actually I would be pretty okay with that, thanks.

A few weeks ago my boyfriend Jim said he wanted to be with me “every day, forever.” Awwww. Then I was like, look, if I am going to have an extremely awesome home and life blog, complete with beautiful photos and some sort of kickass layout, I need to not be on Blogspot anymore. And I kind of can’t handle Tumblr. So here we are. Every Day Forever.

If Jim and I ever break up, this blog title is going to be so awkward.

For the past eight years (oh my god I’m so old) I’ve been blogging at rsgo.blogspot.com. This is my new home. Isn’t it pretty?