Girl About Town: Miami Beach

Well, you see... this life I lead is a tough one.

I'm vacationing on Miami Beach with a dear friend from high school, indulging in everything I really can't afford. And while debt isn't sexy, Miami Beach is. So I'll be here for the next week, drinking too expensive coffee on my balcony at the Loews Hotel (jealousy inducing view below for your viewing pleasure), eating $16 sandwiches because they are the cheapest thing on the menu, and pretending I'm as rich as my European, accent donning, speedo wearing counterparts at the Loews, because that's what you do on vacation. The Simply Luxurious Life would be so disappointed.

Ciao!

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Work & Play

I want to be able to call myself a writer, but I have yet to reach the frequency with which I think "a writer" should be writing. This is self imposed of course, but still is my reasoning all the same.

When I'm not writing, or trying to write, or thinking about writing, or cursing myself for not writing or thinking about writing... I'm working. Like yesterday, when I managed a team of models handing out the YSL Manifesto in NYC. I had several lovely visitors, but my favorite photo documentation is of Dushane. 

If I were a fashion blogger, I'd be so proud of myself and my photo taking skills. But because I'm not a fashion blogger/photographer, I'm even prouder. Makes me want to buy a fancy camera and do a lot of pretending in the streets.

xx,
MJ

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Suburban Girl Overhaul

Suburban Girl no more...

Going through some changes over here. Stick with me as I re-brand the blog and welcome some new content to my brand new and very shiny .com.

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You Can't Have It All

It's Saturday morning, I'm on the train platform, waiting for the N, listening to Zeyi's Working for Bill*, and hoping for inspiration so I can dust the blog off with some fresh writing when it hits me. Hard:

You can't have it all.

Now, this is a shock. And a bit concerning. And totally disheartening to me. I whip out my notebook and scribble down the idea before I head out on my errands for the day, all revolving around work.



You can't have it all? Really? I suppose it's hard to accept, or grasp because it's the opposite of everything I've ever been told. As an only child and single woman, I grew up thinking I could have whatever I set my mind to. Wanna move to NYC? Done. Wanna get a new job? Done. Wanna get that boy at the bar? Done. Wanna get those shoes? Charged.

But then I got online and did a little research, and the results were so depressing.

Uh, what's that?

You can't have it all.

Oh. Okay.

At the beginning of 2010, I did not have it all. I was incredibly single and incredibly sad. I was grateful for one thing: a job that kept me so busy I had no time for thoughts or friends. My days circled around events and industry parties; and it was exactly what I needed to get by.

The summer changed everything. I was making time for friends, making new friends, and trying my hardest to enjoy my 20's. At the same time, I was working harder than I'd worked before. The most epic day was my birthday, where I clocked at least 12 hours at work before heading off to Fashion's Night Out (an important evening for my industry), and then celebrating my 25th. I was on top of the world. Did I have it all? I considered it a possibility but they say hindsight is 20/20 and I now know that's not the case.

Flash forward to December and things have reversed from where they were almost a year ago. I have almost everything I've ever wanted in a solid group of friends who preoccupy the majority of my time when I'm not working. Yet, I feel unfulfilled in other areas.

So wait, you can't have it all?

Hm. Do you think that's the case? I mean, what does "all" really entail when it comes to your life? Love, happiness, a great career, wonderful friends to lean on? Does one always suffer to allow you to achieve the rest?

I suppose I'm on a blind journey to see what's true; throughout which I've been keeping this gift from my mother on my wrist (in the form of a bracelet with the following inscribed)

Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding, In all your ways, acknowledge Him, and he will make your paths straight. Proverbs 3:5-6

I'll let you know where I net out. Where did you?

---

*Note, Working for Bill did not inspire such a sad little post. It inspired me to be creative because it's a work of art. If you're not listening, you should be.

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Scary Age No More

I used to be terrified of the age 25. Seriously, 25 was my extra scary age. I used to think, “ohmygah*, 25?!!”

Every birthday celebrated felt like a minor death sentence. It was all very dramatic – like, Elle Woods breaking up with her boyfriend dramatic.





I didn’t even celebrate 24. I worked and went to bed instead (ahem, the 25 year old me thinks the 24 year old me is super-lame).

But to be clear, I cemented 25 as my Armageddon back when I turned 18. I had the coolest girlfriends, I was in a super hot a cappella group, and I basically thought I was the shit. What could get better than being 18 and extra hot*? Clearly, I was blinded.

If I could give my 18 year old self a side eye* I would. Now, that’s not to say I don’t have the occasional “eep! I’m 25!” moment. The most clear being the time I wouldn’t buy candy for some boy’s “basketball team” on the street and he called me an “uptight old head*” .......... iCant.

That said, being 25 (I celebrated my birthday in September) is so rich and ripe.

• It’s like being a teenager, except you're 5 years from 30.
• It’s like being in college except you live in the city, pay rent and big girl bills, and have lots of sex.
• It’s like being a foolish hot mess, except for when you’re at the office, because then you’re buttoned up and super fly.
• It’s like being version 2.5 or 3GS (but not quite 4G because I’m not quite 30).
• It’s like being “MJ Fadeaway” + “Maiah on Fiyah” + “Ms. Johnson (if you’re nasty)” all the time.

...and I love it.


What was your scary turned favorite age?

---

*"ohmygah" - copyright 2003 – 2010
*I was actually fat with a pretty face. But still. Confidence is a hell of a drug.
*What’s a side eye? Click here.
*What’s an old head? Click here.

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On Connectivity: Facebook, Twitter, & Everything In-between

My dear friend, Larissa of The Ella Project, wrote a brilliant piece on technology and how it allows us to be too connected without actually connecting. You see, we live in an age where we are all Facebook and Twitter babies. We exist behind a series of emoticons and "like" buttons; retweets and hashtags.

Personally, I'm okay with it. I hate talking on the phone unless I'm talking to my mother. Why? Because I am convinced I can NEVER hear anything you say. When I get confused I just say "okay" or laugh in hopes that you'll think I know what you're saying instead of having to ask "wait, WHAT?" for the 5th time. Especially living in New York City, where people are shouting expletives on the street and ambulance sirens are the normal background noise. Why go through the "one second, a police car is going by"when I could just text you a simple "see you in 5."

This mystery gchat couldn't have come at a better time.

Moreover, I love a good emoticon conversation. When words get in the way, there's nothing like a quick emoticon stink eye or wink face to get straight to the point. And a hot, smoking poop instead of a civilized "no thank you." in an email? I'll take it.

That said, there is something so necessary about human to human contact. Larissa notes:

There is something about human contact. Something about actually hearing someone laugh rather than see an “lol”. [...] Let’s meet each other for drinks, dinner, laughter and hugs.

Wait! Lets! Because a well wishing tweet or the happiest of emoticons can never give across the same feeling as a hug. There is a reason why we say things like "I have the greatest story for you, let's catch up over drinks or dinner." And there is nothing like seeing those reactions in your friend's eyes as you tell it.

So, where do you draw the line? Apparently, it's getting blurrier as we get further in to this technologically advanced world we live in.

AM New York felt it was front page worthy to note that more and more people are getting the axe from their employer due to writing inappropriate things about their bosses or jobs online. This generation of kids growing up on twitter are learning to express themselves in 140 characters or less. When I grew up, I couldn't leave the dinner table before talking in full paragraphs about my day and finishing all the broccoli on my plate.

There must be some middle ground. I feel lucky enough to know where to find my plateau. It starts with some cosmopolitans at Pazza Notte and my favorite girlfriends telling those great stories that we save for the reactions.

Where's yours?

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11:11

A tweet by dear friend, Carolina, of United States of Mascara

While catching up on old issues of Glamour Magazine, I came across an article in the October 2010 issue entitled 8 Things You Need to Know About... You by Wendy Shanker. The article, which doesn't depart very far from the fluffiness I love about Glamour Magazine, touches on 8 great points. They vary from health issues, to personal well being, to money management; but my favorite was #8:

A go-to wish for anytime you're near a fountain, about to blow out candles or see 11:11 on a clock. 

It's true. 11:11 rolls around and everyone closes their eyes to prep for a wish. I've been participating in this routine for as long as I can remember. Slumber parties with girl friends meant we had to stay up until 11:11pm to make a wish! Then (despite the fact that if you tell someone your wish, it will never come true) we would tell our wishes to each other before finally going to sleep.

Back then, the wishes were silly. My favorite memories include the following standard wishes:

• A pair of Adidas Sambas
• A new L.L. Bean backpack with my initials embroidered on it
• My first kiss
• A slow dance at the school dance with the school heart throb
• A later curfew

Clearly, these are all life changing wishes for someone in middle and high school. When I grew up, so did my wishes. They seem to align more with the author's, who notes the following:

My wish list? The continued stability of my health, for which I am so grateful; the possibility of starting a family on my own; another Madonna tour; a constant flow of funny things to write about (and people to pay me to do it); and most of all, an appreciation of what life serves up every day.

I love the cheeky addition of the Madonna tour wish, but stay aligned with the rest. 

My go-to wish? Since about my sophomore year in college, it's been the same thing: "happiness." Because you really can't go wrong with that, can you? 

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For Colored Girls Who Have Considered Suicide When The Rainbow is Enuf

[via]

I can't quite put into words my excitement surrounding the release of For Colored Girls Who Have Considered Suicide When The Rainbow is Enuf. Written by Ntozake Shange, the screenplay is added to the roster of Tyler Perry. Initially, I was worried how this partnership would work, but the reviews I've read so far are positive.

You see, I have a certain affinity for the "Sorry" piece in this beautiful work of literature. It was introduced to me in high school, just a few years after it's release in '97, during a summer theatre workshop. I began performing the piece then, as directed by a beautiful actress who taught me a lot of the meaning being that monologue. My obsession grew as I continued to better understand the weight of the writing.

For Colored Girls isn't just a pretty work of art or another published book sitting on shelves at Borders. It's a game changer.

As I listen to Janelle Monae's Without A Fight, I am fighting not to say something cliche like how I truly believe this is a book that has influced, inspired, and affected the lives of many black women, myself included. Oops, said it. Oh well.

For Colored Girls hits theatres this Friday, November 5th. I'm thrilled, and am looking forward to seeing it with the group of strong and beautiful women I love to call my friends. I hope you get to do the same.

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On Being A Black Cat, part 2

To clear up any confusion: I was, indeed, a black cat on Halloween. 

[via]

 And just because I've been a black cat [almost] since birth does not make me uncool. And contrary to popular belief, it certainly is not like still dressing up as the Black Power Ranger at the age of 25. The Black Power Ranger is awkward, and no longer cool, and being a cat for Halloween is classic, like the 1950's... (thanks for the reference, Dushane)

 From left to right: Pilot Larissa of The Ella Project, Allie the Devil, Me aka the best black cat in the world, Crystal aka Nicki Minaj & Vicky Lee aka Major Bombshell.

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On Being A Black Cat, or all the costumes I'm dying to wear instead

I have always loved Halloween. Not really sure why, as it's a rather creepy "holiday", but there's something about getting dressed up and having a reason to party that resonates well with me.

Should you be lucky enough to take a trip to my sleepy suburban hometown, my mother will sit down with you and show you albums upon albums of me in the little outfits. First-day-of-school outfits, first-school-dance outfits, first-date-to-the-mall outfits, first-field-hockey-game outfits, and of course, the Halloween outfits.

For as long as I can remember, I dressed as a witch. In fact, I wore my witch hat from mid-September through to Thanksgiving, when my parents told me it was no longer acceptable and I had to wear my Christmas socks instead (which I did, duh). As soon as I got to middle school, I started to care more about what I looked like and decided right then and there that I would be a black cat for every Halloween thereafter.

 [via]

I'm 25 now, and I have tried 1.5 times to wear something other than my uniform of cat ears and a tail. Last year, I tried to be Madonna, but told people I was an 80's baby instead because my girl, who also went as Madonna, actually LOOKED like her, and I looked like a jumble of the sale section at H&M.

This year, I decided I was going to be a captain. I went all out and purchased the captain's hat and everything. Last night, I tried to test my roommate and her boyfriend. I opened my bedroom door and stepped out in my costume:

"Do I look like a captain?"
"Um..." their eyes flickered to each other briefly as they tried to find the best way to let me down gently. I held my hand up in a salute, to help the cause.
"I like your hat?" My roommate said.
"Maybe if you had some of those shoulder things, that would help :/" her boyfriend suggested.

I went into my room and threw on my faithful cat eats in defeat.

That said, there are so many AWESOME Halloween ideas I would love to give a try. My first stems from my new obsession with Nicki Minaj.

 [via]

I want the hair, I want the "Barbie" necklace, I want the ridiculous jewelery and the booty. I want to walk around mugging for cameras with that extra cheese, and the occasional growl. I want the British accents and the 5 personalities... just for one night.

I blame Claire of The Fashion Bomb for my black cat restlessness. Every Halloween she highlights great costume ideas, make up tricks, and outfit inspiration - all of which I am eager to try out now. Check out her series here, and additional costume photos below for some inspiration.

 A little Amy Winehouse and some extra faux-tattoos never hurt anyone.

Sandy OR Rizzo from Grease. In fact, I think I own Sandy's leggings...

A sailor! Is it too much to ask?

 Diana Ross, because really - she's fierce.

 Does this even need words?

Don't mess aroun'...

I mean...

 Oh well... just keep an eye out for this girl in a black cat costume.

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Suburban Girl Reflects: A History of Dating - Chapter 1

She met him one hot summer day in Central Park for a picnic. She was brought by a friend who was brought by another friend to attend his picnic, which was a mishmash of random people and their... friends.

She'd heard about him before. "You're going to love this guy," they told her. And they meant it in the scary way, not in the new best friend way. She was nervous and excited and skeptical. She spotted him right away: tall and handsome with a beautiful smile and a full laugh.

She knew they were right when she slipped in mud and dirtied her favorite ballet slippers. He jumped up, held her hand as he tried to brush away the mud while she balanced on one foot. Damsel in distress was her specialty, and it always worked wonders.

As the crowd settled and people began to drink, she watched him intently. He was everything she thought she needed and boasted a brilliant accent to boot. She was smitten, and later found out he was too.

ffffound via lelove

"See this picture?" he said to her in bed a month later.
"Oh my gosh, is this from the picnic?" she sounded genuinely surprised.
"I look at it every day" he smiled as he wrapped her up into his arms.

She was warm with feelings for him, though unclear exactly what they meant. He had infiltrated her group of friends and she did his as well. She and he were inseparable through the summer, into the fall, and cuddled up through winter; giddy about the new year.

Then, things started to shift. "I hate I'm smaller than you," he would say under his breath, cursing his naturally thin physique. She loved that about him - he was tall and lanky with long arms that fit perfectly around her.

"I hate that you have a job and I'm unemployed," he would say after drinks at dinner. She, feeling the need to protect him, would say she'd give anything for his freedom. She'd help him forget through kisses and hugs. She'd change the subject to something else.

"I'm actually just a big asshole. You really have no idea." She just stared at him; not sure how to respond at all.

On New Years Eve they had separate plans, which she was grateful for. "I need to be more grounded in my girlfriends," she told one of them as they dressed for a house party. She hid behind that excuse, but she was anxious and uncomfortable. A feeling in her stomach told her there was something more.

They broke up in January after several tearful phone calls and a screaming match on 56th & 6th during rush hour foot traffic.

Heartbroken, she ran through a list of all the things she'd done for him during two and a half seasons together. "YOU did those things because you wanted to!" he shouted back, leaving her both speechless and confused. As she stood there, wide (and dry) eyed, he just walked away. On the corner of 56 & 6th, she watched him dart through traffic, feeling her hands shake.

ffffound

****

Editor's Note: I've been doing some reflection on my previous relationships - remembering what I've been through, what I've grown from, what was entertaining, what was heartbreaking. Still very poignant for me, I thought this could be a nice series for the blog. I hope you enjoy. Xx.

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Suburban Girl's Top 5 :: Pampering

The script is the same, regardless of age, gender, ethnicity, or fierce-hood: We are all young, therefore we are all overworked and underpaid. To be clear, I'm not entirely bitter or angry at this idea. It's just the nature of the beast as young and eager people living in New York City.

Aside from living in "The City That Never Sleeps", I strongly believe New Yorkers as a whole are possibly the most overworked population in the world. They thrive off of busyness and sacrifice vacations (even STAYcations!) for fear of not knowing what to do when they aren't in the work place.

I can't even understand this concept and I feel fine about that. Instead of trying to adjust myself to that mentality, I felt it necessary to come up with a number of "sanity savers" (yes, that is an official medical term). As I've had to practice some of them since moving to NYC, I figured what better time than now to bring you the second installment of The Suburban Girl's Guide to Getting By in the City :: Pampering.

1. Shobha
After a long day at Fashion Week, I decided to treat myself. I usually get my eyebrows threaded at this little hole in the wall place in Astoria. It's half a block from my train, the women are surly, and a good eyebrow threading costs $8 with tip. However this day, I needed to be coddled. I found myself drifting into Shobah Columbus Circle for the most incredible and relaxing eyebrow threading of my entire life. Between the lotions, the temple massage, and the surprisingly gentle motions of the threading, I nearly passed out. Well worth the $20 price tag for a much deserved treat after a hard day's work.

2. The Townhouse Spa
I found myself at the Townhouse Spa for an event my company was producing. One of the amazing perks of being a favored intern at the time was that my supervisor allowed me to treat myself to the same amenities as the guests coming to my event. After a spa manicure, I went into the spa area for a facial that literally changed my life. It had been my first, and certainly would never be my last. Now, whenever anyone asks for spa recommendations, the Townhouse Spa is always the first one out of my mouth.

3. My Hair Salon
Let me preface this with noting that my hair salon is NOT NEARLY the most relaxing of places. However, there is nothing like having someone else shampoo your hair.

4. My Nail Salon
Spa manicure and pedicure please with a side of trashy magazines and headphones in both ears. Thank you and goodnight. Also, nothing makes me feel more like a loved customer with the chorus of women singing "hello!!" and "thank you, goodbye!" with my entrance and exit.

5. My Bedroom
Get your mind out the gutter, kids. My bedroom is my thing. It's my safe haven, it's my security blanket, it's where I go to feel like I'm home (like, Boston home). After a particularly trying day, I love to rush home, close myself up in my room, turn on some Sade or Erykah Badu, light a candle, and paint my nails. I don't know. It's just my thing.

What about you? Do you have any special "sanity savers"?

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Suburban Girl Contemplates: Confidence in Dating

In 2005 she fell in love. Just she and him, happy and running hand in hand through a city she was discovering while head over heels. Everything was light and beautiful and bright. All was right when she was with him.

Saying goodbye because of distance was the hardest thing she had ever had to do. "It'll make you stronger," she was told. I only feel weaker, she would think as she tortured herself with fond memories, emails, photographs, and sad love songs. She would mask her sadness in meaningless sex, and hug herself at night when she was alone. She would embark on half-relationships with men who were clearly wrong; forcing bad relationships that ended in explosions leaving her damaged. She listened to Split Screen Sadness and Troubles on repeat.

Now, she finds herself exploring the concept of dating with extreme fear and hesitation. The more she meets men who seem to show genuine interest, the more scared she becomes. She bides her time and goes along for the ride, waiting for the other shoe to drop in every circumstance. She's still working through the healing process - still trying to transfer confidence from her savings account to her checking.

She's listening to this on repeat:

And smiling.

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Suburban Girl's Top 5 :: Relaxation

[via]

"I will never, EVER be able to live in New York City," she tells her mom as they hop on an M-something bus with fingers crossed and hopes that they're going the right way. She was visiting NYC with her mother - their tri-annual trip to the city where they ate, shopped, and saw theatre.

The routine was always the same, Boston South Station to New York Port Authority. Cab to Amy Ruth's for waffles and chicken (or fish), and bus downtown passing by all the potential graduate schools her mother thought would be best.

"Are you sure, Maiah? How can you really block off an entire city?" her mother inquired, slightly fed up but mostly entertained.

"Because New York is not a place you go to for peace of mind. New York is a place you go to for shaking things up. Then, you go home and say 'phew, glad that's over'."

Fast forward and here I am in 2010, a New York City resident of 2 years and 3 months... Oops. I still haven't perfected the art of life in a city like New York, especially having grown up in Weston, Massachusetts (the smallest, cutest, quietest, most relaxing suburb ever). It definitely hasn't been all smooth sailing either. After an incredible first 6 months, I lost my amazing job to the economy, I lost my then gentleman-friend to a horrible disease called Man Child Disorder, and I lived in a vermin infested apartment with a stripper and a nanny.

I was spiraling. It was around this time that I realized I needed to regroup and recoup. And this is when I began compiling the Suburban Girl's Guide to Getting By in the City. It's much too long for one post, so we'll go subject by subject. Let's start with one of the most important - the top 5 places I go to relax:

1. Bookstores

There is nothing better than going to The Strand or Borders (the one on 57th & Park) after work and letting the day's foolishness just wash off my shoulders as I browse books. Of course, when shopping The Strand, it's best to go with a few things in mind. That said, when it's quiet and you have a whole section of books to yourself, what could be better than slowly perusing the book titles and cover art.

2. Hookah Bars

I love smoking a hookah with a cold beer and a good friend or four. My favorites are Horus on 10th & A and in Astoria: Cherry Cafe on Broadway & 34th and Soho Cafe on Broadway & 44th.

3. The Movies

There is nothing better than taking yourself out to an afternoon film. I personally prefer the Kaufman Astoria Theatre to some of those bed bug infested ones in the city (eek). I also feel very strongly about Kaufman Astoria for date night - there's nothing better than taking in a late night double feature, especially when it involves a bottle of red snuck inside in my always oversized purses.

4. Early Morning Shopping

My saturday morning routine always involves waking up early, coffee and eggs, and early morning shopping (also referred to as "Field Work" by my mother). Sometimes, shopping in the city is UNBEARABLE with the crowds of tourists and pushy locals, but shopping anywhere before the hour of 10am is always a joy. Plus, there is nothing better than grabbing a hot coffee from your favorite morning street cart on a crisp and cool fall morning, and walking through your favorite neighborhood(s) as you pop in and out of your favorite stores.

5. Queens

Since I moved to New York, I have always gone home at the end of the night to Astoria. I like to maintain that I was forced to this sleepy little borough by Larissa, Mihal, and Dushane. Despite that fact, I love living here. To be able to come home at the end of a long day and retire to my cozy bedroom and take in the Manhattan skyline from my window makes living in New York worth every up and down.

What about you? What are your favorite places for regrouping in the busy city?

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Suburban Girl Contemplates: Dating & Aging

Carrie: And it just gets harder as we get older because we're not dating wildly inappropriate people anymore, you know. There's, there's no, uh, "Pshew, glad that's over!"
Berger: Right, right.
Carrie: And after every breakup I tell myself, I'm never doing this again. It's too hard. I mean, how many of these things can one person survive?

When I saw this exchange on Sex & The City, I thought to myself, "What is Carrie talking about? I never date inappropriate people. Duh."

[via]

... girl, please.

I had no clue that the sort of man I date would change drastically as I get older. As someone in love with “the bad boy” by default, I equated this statement with settling for safe.

In fact, I’ve only once found myself dating “the nice guy”. It was in London in 2005. We’ve since kept in touch, but his threats of marriage (yes, I said threats) and the expansive distance between us lead to a break up. I recently spent the most romantic and beautiful night with him this past spring in Dubai, and while I still care for him immensely, I could see our lives all too clearly and it was a little scary.

There’s something about the chase of a future with a guy who is hard to pin down that is much sexier than envisioning my future with a nice guy that involves babies and baking. That may have to do with my inexplicable fear of babies, but we’ll let this fact slide.

But I digress… here I am, almost 25 and completely rethinking the men I date. The older we get, the more it seems people are falling in love, getting married, and having babies (not always in that order...). The older I get, the more stiff I get. My list of qualifiers for a potential suitor is growing exponentially. As a result, the more rules I create lead to fewer men who can actually stand up to what I’m looking for.

The most troubling thing is, we really aren't dating wildly inappropriate people any more. And when we do date, it’s an investment of time, money, and emotions. The more break ups we have, the more guarded we become, and the less willing we are to go through the rollercoaster again.

In discussing the men currently surrounding me, a dear friend of mine told me to drop the boundaries and experience the ride. According to him, it’s better to have loved and lost than to have never loved at all. Sure, cliché, but it’s the truth, don’t you think?

And with that said, I’m planning an outfit for a birthday party that I hope ends with me in someone’s arms the next morning. Because who doesn’t love a good cuddle? Oh, and FYI – I’m the little spoon.

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Now Introducing: Suburban Girl

What better place to begin this venture, than from my sleepy suburban town of Weston, MA, where I've lived since the age of six. I'm enjoying drinks and apps ("drapps") with my little bougie family of three (minus one semi-recently deceased pooch) talking about bougie things like 401K's, becoming an equestrian again, and buying Burberry - I am relishing this moment and am totally reminded why I covet this life.

Suburban born and raised, I grew up listening to Matchbox 20, Joni Mitchell, vacationing on Martha's Vineyard and saying things like "I will NEVER move to New York City." Flashforward past 4 months abroad in London and 4 years at beautiful Connecticut College and I find myself living, working, and generally just being in NYC. Whoops.

So far, it's been an experience. Of all the things I miss the most, it's greenery. Or driving. Or central air conditioning (yum). Or REAL shopping malls (read: the Natick Collection). But I digress; I'm putting on my best "city girl" face and making the most of my experience, because in your 20's, there is no other way.

Now, here's the nitty gritty:

This will serve as an exploration of my life in the city (any and every city I ever find myself living in). It will highlight the highs, the lows, the nice and mild plateaus. It will (hopefully) be raucously funny, extremely poignant, and deliciously random.

This is Suburban Girl in The City. I hope you enjoy.

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