How to Love

Being a New Yorker is hard. 
Being a single female in New York is harder.
But being a skeptical, jaded, single, New York City girl with an open mind about love is the hardest.

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The idea of opening your heart and finding love - any kind of love - is hard to fathom. This includes the idea of love, a potential future of love, flirting your way into love... a lovah... alladem. All I'm saying is if you've been in love (big love) and you've been hurt (which is everyone), then it's nearly impossible to drop your guard, open up your heart and let someone new in.

Case in point - one of my lovely girl friends. She's a super kind, super gorgeous girl with a huge badonkadonk and a skinny waist and a ton of love to give. And she's extra single. Why? She's not sure and neither am I. But then one day over a few glasses of chianti she told me "I don't let guys touch me on the first date."

"Not even hold your hand?" I shouted.

"No!"

"What do you mean, 'no'!?" Now, I should state that this conversation went around in more circles than necessary - likely due to the chianti. 

"I don't let guys touch me because all of that is intimate. Holding my hand is very intimate." I was a little dumbstruck. I guess I understood her point, but my first thought was who used to hold your hand and why was it so damn intimate. I immediately asked her if she'd allow a first kiss - arguably the best part of any evening with a new guy after a fun date.

"No!"

"No??!!!!? Ghurl, please!" Clearly, we dissolved into giggles here but through the laughter she told me she was absolutely serious. That if any man touched her on a first date, or a second or even a third, she'd cut them off and move onto the next one. 



What is it about girls and our inability to let go and open up? While we're working on saving ourselves from getting hurt again, we're also becoming brilliant at self-sabotage.

Personally, I have one of the best leave me alone side eyes this side of the Hudson, but it might be deterring perfectly fine men from coming up and saying hello. Demetria Lucas of A Belle in Brooklyn has devoted part of her debut book to helping women open up. It involves something as simple as a smile. So I've been getting my practice on to see if it really does work.

"Damn, you ladies and your boots. Stompin' all over my damn heart," a man said to me on the A train platform at West 4th Street on Monday evening. I turned my head and smiled at him, taking the time to size him up. Nothing about him was my type, but what's really in a type anyway? 

"Oh man, and that smile! Just damn." And with that he smiled, tipped his hat, and walked away.

Now what was so hard about that?


Unless you're dense or not of this generation, you understand the title of this post is inspired by this song. 

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Girl About Town: Fabsugar x Frye x Bloomies

Saturdays are often classified as "Maiah Days." 

They usually involve minding my own business, shopping, indulging in manicures and pedicures, and roaming the city. I live for these days.

Excuse the iPhone photo!

On the 22nd, I added a quick bit of fashion fun to my weekend routine by attending a cute event thrown by the FabSugar girls. They partnered with Frye and Bloomingdales (59th Street Location) for a small little celebration. Between how much I adore the Sugar, Inc blogs and how much I love my Frye Boots, it was a no-brainer that I'd have to attend.

The event was intimate. It occupied a small corner of the Shoes on 2nd area of Bloomies and was booming with women. A DJ played smooth beats while we oogled at the boots and models posed - each in an outfit with a pair of Frye boots styled by a FabSugar editor.

The super casual nature offered a nice event experience. While I didn't stay long, I did enjoy myself. I sipped on some bubbly, entered to win a pair of boots for myself, and drooled over the Carmen Harness Short Boot and the Dorado Lug Riding Boot. I'm a proud owner of the Jane, but should I ever find myself in need of another pair of leather riding boots, I'm going Dorado... or Carmen... or Dorado. 

I was tempted to try a few boots on but there were Frye fanatics everywhere. After hugging the Dorado goodbye, I made my way back to the streets of midtown. But not before trying on a few pieces of David Yurman. Clearly, this girl has a shopping problem.

P.S. Many thanks to Cristina at Sugar, Inc. for the kind email!

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iCovet // 10.22.11

Aw yeah. 

My favorite things this week. 

I know the week's not over, but it's been saturated with goodness and I'm bursting at the seams.

1

Lush drinks with colleagues and a client at the semi-new Chelsea hotspot, Duo.

French Martinis are still everything.

2

An afternoon in midtown NYC. I'm a sucker for midtown.

3

A quiet escape with a latte and a decadent treat in Juan Valdez.

4

 An important reminder to forget about just black and white...

(even though all black everything is everything.)

❤

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My Love Is Like ... Clay?

I get my eyebrows threaded at this great little hole in the wall place in Astoria on Broadway. I love it because the prices are cheap ($6), the women don't talk much, it always smells like incense (which reminds me of my father's man cave), and there's always some sort of Bollywood movie playing on repeat. As I closed my eyes and settled in for the threading, I started to reminisce on my previous obsession with Bollywood... it fell parallel to a man I was dating at the time.

We met at a Central Park picnic. I slipped in mud and he cleaned my foot with ice. That's when I knew he was putty in my hands. He showed up at my birthday party a few weeks later and we were inseparable from then on. On my favorite date with him, we ended up at a gorgeous UES restaurant where he ordered everything for me (something some women hate but I happen to love). Several of the items were more traditional, and not on the more America-friendly menu. It was at that point that I fell in love with his culture and thought of myself as an "insider". My Netflix queue held a disproportionate amount of Bollywood movies, I cooked Bhindi Masala and Baingan Bharta like it was part of me, and when I went out to dinner, I ordered off the menu like I knew what I was talking about. He introduced me to the smooth sounds of The Gotan Project, a quirky Parisian electro/nuevo-tango group.

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In 2005 I studied abroad in London and met the former love of my life, referred to on the blog as Old Flame. He introduced me to the real London, he showed me the joys of the outer city and the underbelly of Harrod's (he was a pastry chef there) and as we dated, I felt myself growing. It might have just been me getting fat because he was a pastry chef and was always feeding me treats. It also might have been my heart exploding, which was an unfamiliar feeling at the time (also known as "falling in love"). Regardless, I was hooked and as a result, I started to mold myself to him. While in London I started baking uncontrollably. I ran around the Harrod's food halls like I owned the place, and I toyed with the idea of permanently to the UK daily. Because of his Parisian roots, I vowed to learn French - I even took adult language classes at night after school when I returned to the states.. He introduced me to Cornielle, a French R&B crooner with family in Germany, Rwanda and Canada.

I mean, the examples could go on, and on, and on. The more I got to thinking about it, the more curious I became about how I change as I date. Thinking about this on Sunday afternoon, I took to my iTunes and ran through my music. Unchecked song after unchecked song brought back memories of a lover, an ex-boyfriend, or a situation that ended in tears. I realized that my iTunes steadily reflects exactly who I've dated. The timestamp of their download date highlights when we were together, and the missing check is an easy indication of their departure.

Being a music head, my initial thoughts were sadness towards all of the wasted music. You're supposed to grow and change, and your realities are supposed to be expanded when you date someone. But the more I reflected I couldn't help but wonder... how much is too much?

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