WRITER. EDITOR. MAKER OF MESSES.
Just in time for fall, we've wrapped up the AllModern Holiday book! I listened to Christmas music for almost two weeks straight in order to write this one, as is clearly evident in the latest editorial device: the candid carol.
Sign up now so you can get yours in the mail next month! It won't have any of these gems in it, but it's still pretty good — scout's honor.
I'm neck-deep in holiday (and, somehow, early spring and late spring) planning at work, so I almost missed that the AllModern fall catalog dropped today! If you're not on the list to get one (seriously? still?), you can view it on my portfolio page.
Like last time, I've saved some of my favorite outtakes from the writing process... there are fewer this time, but I'm still bummed I couldn't keep my original intro paragraph. Ohhhhh well.
This summer's been go, go, go — which has been great for satisfying my restlessness, but not so great for catching up on blogging. Whoops. Let's see if I can remedy that in a whirlwind of updates, shall we?
Sometime during the recent endless replay of dating app intros, it hit me that I've lived in Boston for half a decade. I haven't stayed in one place that long since, well, I was underage and legally had to. And with that realization came this accompanying reality: there's still so much I haven't seen or experienced yet, especially in the greater New England area.
My Maine road trip was a big check off my list, and a few weeks ago, I crossed off another must-experience destination: Provincetown. Situated on the very tip of Cape Cod, P-Town is known for its beautiful beaches, great food, thriving art scene, and gay-friendly community. I've barely even approached the Cape in all my time in Massachusetts, so I was ready to dive in headfirst with a weekend trip to Provincetown.
My partner in crime this time was my buddy, Jamie — someone with a love for planning that almost matches my own, but paired with an easygoing demeanor that's key for travel. Plus, she's goofy and curious and adventurous, so... any outing with her is pretty much guaranteed to be interesting, hilarious, or both.
After much debate, lengthy pro/con lists, and an email chain that may have broken from its own sheer weight at some point, we finalized our strategy:
Warning: The ferry gets pretty windy.
METHOD OF TRANSPORTATION: Bay State Cruise Company Fast Ferry ($90 roundtrip + $14 with bike)
Popular topics of conversation in Boston include: the Patriots and/or Tom Brady; now what's wrong with the T?; and traffic. Most often: Cape traffic. I've heard enough wailing about the drive from the city to the Cape to make me pretty much never want to do it, ever. Especially on a weekend in the middle of summer. Plus, isn't there something romantic about traveling by sea? It's like being on the Titanic, only minus the classism and, hopefully, sinking.
Jamie was equally entranced, and we figured Hey, we're not going to make a habit of this, so we splurged and ferried our way out Friday evening after work. Pros are, obviously, the coolness factor, but also convenience: the ride was an almost-exact 90 minutes, and delivered us straight to the center of town.
ACCOMMODATIONS: The Outermost Hostel ($40 per person, per night)
Confession: We had originally planned on camping, but hemmed and hawed too long in our decision-making to secure a site for the weekend we wanted. For a hot second, it looked like our P-Town dreams were ruined, but we stumbled upon the second-rate website of what is literally the only hostel in Provincetown, and made it our hail Mary play.
Jamie did the heavy lifting and made numerous calls to the hostel, leaving messages for the owner and praying we'd get a call back. When she finally got a response, she was told that we'd need to provide a credit card number to secure a reservation, but would need to ultimately pay in cash when we arrived. All in all, slightly shady but not terrible.
The night before, I was doing my typical pre-packing obsessing, and tried to look up the hostel so I could see if I needed to bring a towel or not. When I did, I discovered a slew of abysmal guest ratings along with it.
Having now stayed at the Outermost Hostel, here's what I can say about it: the guest complaints I read were all fairly valid, but I think your stay all depends on your expectations. I've stayed in some really nice hostels (in Europe) and some really shit hostels (also, coincidentally, in Europe). We were planning on camping initially, so really, pretty much anything with a bathroom attached was a bit of an upgrade. If you go, just know that you're in for some bare bones accommodations — bare bones, but still very much providing of all the necessities, and with a location (right by the Pilgrim Monument) that really can't be beat for the price. Seriously. If we had camped, we would have wasted so much time walking or riding bikes from the site to town that we definitely would have missed our ferry going home instead of just almost missing our ferry going home. (Blame it on the frosé.)
Note: You don't need to bring a towel! Or sheets or a sleeping bag, for that matter. But you might want to, depending on your germaphobia or thread-count standards. I'd still go back.
THE FUN STUFF
The Canteen:
We started and ended our trip here, and if we had just eaten here for every meal in between, I think I would have been fine with that. A varied menu with interesting takes on the basics (I got to have another bahn mi hot dog! Let's continue this trend.) and a sick back "patio" (you're literally on the beach) make this the perfect chill P-Town grub spot.
Happy Camper:
The Canteen's sister spot, Happy Camper serves coffee, ice cream, and donuts — along with a variety of vintage-inspired merch that'll have you wanting to rewatch Camp Nowhere and Heavy Weights just to keep the camp nostalgia going. We actually discovered this spot via the local farmer's market, where they had a booth set up on Saturday morning, but also visited the brick & mortar shop several times after during our stay.
Mama Matcha Green Bar:
Too often, I find myself eating nothing but overindulgent crap when I'm traveling (see: hot dogs, donuts, endless servings of ice cream. Thanks, Maine.), so I was overjoyed to start our mornings by sampling from two trendy, healthy spots. Mama Matcha served up the prettiest avocado toast I've ever seen, and it was seriously tasty (it includes chopped tomatoes, sprouts, sunflower seeds, and crumbled goat cheese). Think I've officially earned my Millennial Card now.
ScottCakes:
This place was on no one's recommendations list, and we probably would have walked right past had it not been for the fact that (1) it was our dear friend Scott's birthday that weekend, and (2) he and his wife had honeymooned in Provincetown. We simply couldn't resist picking up a t-shirt for him and, well, if they wanted to throw in a free cupcake, we certainly weren't gonna turn that down. Scottcakes serves exactly one type of cupcake, varying only the size (regular or mini); each is plain vanilla with gloopy pink frosting, and each is crazy delicious. If you're like me and your preferred type of birthday cake is boxed funfetti from the grocery store, you'll love ScottCakes.
Grab 'n Go Health Bar:
Had my first-ever acai bowl. Felt super hipster, and then felt super full because those things are huge. Next time, I'll be splitting mine with someone.
Tim-Scapes:
Super cool graphic designs representing a variety of major cities, all for sale as prints, t-shirts, tanks, tote bags, and more. I was seriously tempted to get a Boston or Provincetown one, but in the end, my overflowing t-shirt drawer at home made me decide against shelling out for another. But you should!
Marine Specialities:
It's hard to describe this store, which is nothing like the many boutique shops that also line Commercial Street. Need an irregular top from Urban Outfitters that has just slightly crooked seams? How about random vintage army patches? Camping gear from brands you've never heard of? It's all here, crammed into every available nook and cranny. I could have wandered this place for hours, but it gets crowded easily due to, well, all the stuff.
Post Office Cabaret:
I got the impression that no visit to P-Town was complete without seeing a drag show, and we were enticed by the offer of priority seating at the Caberet since we had grabbed a late lunch there. It's a tiny theater, with short rows of seats that extend waaaaay back... but we were plopped in the very first seats, and didn't need to wait in any line. Thanks, soup & sandwich! We saw Raja: Gawdess, starring one of the winners of RuPaul's Drag Race. I'd probably go for a more traditionally campy show next time, but it was an interesting and entertaining experience, for sure. (Raja's boyfriend in the audience may have been my favorite part.)
Dolphin Fleet Whale Watch:
Our whale watching experience was 100% the highlight of the trip for me, and would be my number-one reason to encourage anyone to visit Provincetown. The Stellwagon Bank National Marine Sanctuary is right off the coast of Provincetown, meaning it's only a short twenty-minute ride to get you to prime whale-viewing territory. In other words, we spent nearly the entire four-hour trip seeing whales, including the famous humpback Salt, who was first spotted in the 1970s and has been a staple in the area since. We were lucky enough to be the first to see her this season, along with a mother and calf that literally swam under our boat and just hung around, playing, for a solid half hour or so. It was the coolest thing I've seen in a long time, and I can't recommend the experience enough.
Race Point Beach & Herring Cove Beach:
Our last day, we finally put our bikes to use and rode out to first Race Point Beach and, later, when we were ready for lunch, Herring Cove Beach. Race Point was the nicer of the two, but Herring Cove had the benefit of a snack bar so... there you go. Neither was particularly crowded, but if you're looking for a more kids-free (yes, please) experience, go with Race Point.
Provincetown, I finally get what all the hype is about.
Back in 2011, the year of Ye Olde Life-Changing Roadtrip, I made a painful omission to my country-wide route: I didn't stop in Maine.
I know. Now that I live in New England, I'm sure I would get even more crap for that decision today. But in my defense, it was still early spring/practically-still-winter when I departed, and I would have hit Maine in the midst of its chilly, wet defrost. It didn't sound like the ideal time to fall in love with a place — and this seemed like a spot I could really fall for; something right up my outdoors-loving, crusty-old-sea-captain-smitten, low-population-👍 alley.
So I passed. And this summer, I made it my mission to get some Maine-exploring in.
The first toe-dip in the water was a weekend to celebrate my Aunt Barby's birthday (just a week after Momstravaganza weekend, so it was really a Momstravaganza month). First stop: the Coastal Maine Botanical Gardens in Boothbay. (What did I tell you about moms and gardens, people?!)
Sidenote: Living just an hour away from my Aunt Barby & Uncle Mike is one of the best things about being in Boston. My aunt is delightfully just like my mom, yet also nothing like my mom (read: she will go hiking with me), and my uncle is just like my dad (curse of being a Mike?), yet also nothing like my dad (read: won't try to convince me to buy a car with the same number of miles on it as my current car). It's Parents 2.0, just a short ride away, and I love it.
The gardens were followed by the main (Maine?) attraction: a Puffin-Watch Cruise. Let's add "birds" to the list of Things Moms Like, shall we?
A word of warning before you go and book your own spot on a Puffin Cruise, because I did zero research and had unreasonably high expectations. Puffins are tiny. They are not — as I assumed — the size of small penguins. And vast swarms of them do not cover the islands that they roost on. (Again, I was imagining penguins.) So... bring your binoculars, people. My camera's zoom lens barely did the trick capturing those orange beaks.
We stopped at Red's Eats in Wiscasset on the way home to try one of their famous lobster rolls. The evening stop was perfect timing, actually, because both times I passed Red's on my later Maine trip, the line was always snaking around the building and into the street. This place is popular. And for good reason, too: their lobster roll is the most gargantuan I've ever seen; a normal-sized bun spilling over with what must be a literal entire lobster's worth of meat. To be honest, it was a little too much after a day that had already been filled with lots of eating, but I totally get the hype.
So. That brings us to two weeks ago, the weekend before the Fourth of July. Because that first peek at Maine was nowhere near enough, I planned an entire road trip dedicated to it. (If you want to see concerning proof of my madness, just check out any Google Doc I create that has to do with travel planning. And prepare to back away slowly.)
I limited myself to just the coast — I only had four days, after all — and prioritized time in Bar Harbor and Portland, since those seemed to have the most things to do. There were some hits, some definite misses, and a whole lotta fog, but it was a beautiful weekend.
Here was the route:
PORTSMOUTH, NH
OGUNQUIT, ME
KENNEBUNKPORT, ME
PORT ELIZABETH, ME
GEORGETOWN, ME
SURRY, ME
BAR HARBOR, ME
ELLSWORTH, ME
BRUNSWICK, ME
PORTLAND, ME
(That's the abbreviated version.)
I left Portland bright and early (with just ONE dashboard warning light illuminated in the Blueberry — ayyyye) and arrived in Ogunquit in time for a leisurely pre-breakfast walk along the paved Marginal Way cliffside path. It's a little over a mile from the start to the end in Perkin's Cove, where I grabbed an iced coffee for the walk back.
In Kennebunkport, just a half hour away, I had the most satisfying breakfast sandwich ever at H.B. Provisions. (Full disclosure: It's nothing special, but I was really hungry.) H.B.'s is apparently a staple for the locals and does, indeed, feature a framed photo of George W. Bush. on its walls. But I won't hold that against the place.
After wandering a bit more in Kennebunkport, I drove north to Cape Elizabeth to take in the famous Portland Head lighthouse...
...It was a little foggy that day.
The fog continued as I wove my way around the jagged coast, taking a detour to the tiny fishing village of Georgetown to visit an obscure yet highly praised lobster shack I'd read about.
Five Islands Lobster Co. consists of a couple shacks on a pier overlooking the harbor in Georgetown, Maine. I arrived well after lunch time on a foggy Saturday, but the parking lot was still packed. Cars filled the nearby municipal lot, too, so I was forced to leave my SUV on the edge of a residential lawn guarded by an overzealous poodle. No joke.
Is the lobster roll good? Yessir. However, as someone who arrived in Boston almost five years ago having never tasted real lobster — and later choked on one in front of her undying college crush — I've now sampled a decent number of rolls. Five Islands' is good, yes, but it was disappointingly small. I could have easily polished off two. But you can't really beat the ambiance, so... maybe just bolster that roll with any of the other delicious-sounding items on the menu.
YOU GUYS. This is where I stayed for two nights (in Surry, Maine), and I already want to go back. I initially looked for a campsite but was having trouble finding one where I could reserve a spot ahead of time, so I turned to Air BnB. In the end, it was between a teepee on someone's private property and this, the Morgan Bay Zendo.
(Morgan Bay won out because it had a shower, but I'm determined to sleep in a teepee in the future.)
The cabin was exactly as tiny as it looks, with only a twin-sized storage bed, rocking chair, and wood-burning stove inside. Yet as rustic as the accommodations were, I was blown away with how thoughtful and precise the design was. My crappy cell phone pics don't do it justice, but trust me when I tell you that these dudes know their interior decorating and architecture.
In case you couldn't tell, the Zendo is a Buddhist meditation retreat and consists of a main meditation hall, a meeting hall with communal kitchen and showers, and four small rustic cabins. That's not counting the grounds, which include several gardens, a pond inhabited by some very vocal bullfrogs, and the winding path through the woods from the parking lot. (The walk ensures that the location is extra peaceful and secluded, yes, but is also extra terrifying when you get back after dark and remember that you're 100% alone in the middle of nowhere with just the light of your headlamp.)
During my stay, I crossed paths with exactly three people. One was a fellow lodger who I saw for maybe fifteen minutes, and the other two seemed to be a local grandma showing her grandson the weird hippie commune down the road. It was awesome.
I also chose Surry as my home base because it was less than an hour from Bar Harbor, the front yard of Acadia National Park.
The fog was still in full force Sunday morning when I arrived in the harbor, but by the time I finished breakfast at 2 Cats (three words: homemade strawberry butter), it had mostly burned away.
I followed Aunt Barby's advice (she worked at Acadia last season, so she knows her stuff) and hit the Bar Harbor Land Bar first. At low tide, the sand bar connects Mount Desert Island to Bar Island, which is off in the distance in the above photo, hidden by the remaining fog.
Once I checked Bar Island off my list, I hitched a ride on the shuttle into the park and tackled the Gorham Mountain Trail. During my previous visit to Acadia a couple years ago, I did Cadillac Mountain, Jordan Pond, and couple other well-known ones, so this was my chance to conquer something new and — more importantly — not too lengthy (I had only one day, okay?). The top of Gorham Mountain rewards with views like the above and the kind of sweat that's synonymous with well-earned accomplishment.
After my hike, I relaxed on Sand Beach for a couple hours and then wandered along some more trails until dinner time.
The evening began with a flight at Atlantic Brewing Company, which was followed by a refreshingly different dinner of enchiladas and mole sauce at Havana. (Vacation rule: always take the hot bartender's dinner recommendation.)
Dessert was a mandatory stop at my fave, Mount Desert Island Ice Cream. (Flavors so good, I got it again the next day in Portland.)
The next morning, after a detour to Big Chicken Barn Books & Antiques (oh yes, I did), I headed back south, eventually stopping in Brunswick, Maine, for my second lobster roll of the trip. Haunted by my puny lunch at Five Islands, I made sure to order the large lobster roll at Libby's Market, which looks like a glorified gas station convenience store. But that Yelp rating don't lie, folks. It was goooooood.
I rolled into Portland with enough time to stop at Foundation Brewing Company for a tasting before they closed. Alas, I didn't have the sobriety left in me to head next door to Austin Street Brewery, too, but it's earmarked for next time. (Hot bartender recommended it, after all.)
Dinner was a BBQ bahn mi hot dog from The Thirsty Pig. It's not blurry in real life and I would very much like another one, please.
I celebrated July 4th the best way I know how: with donuts, french fries, and beer.
At The Holy Donut (known for their potato-based donuts), I sampled the ginger-glazed sweet potato, blueberry with blueberry glaze, and dark chocolate with coconut and coconut milk-glazed donuts. Despite mixed reviews of the bakery from friends and fellow travelers, I was a fan. I'm also the farthest thing from a donut connoisseur you can find, though, so take that with a grain of salt.
After attempting to walk off some of the donuts, I circled back to DuckFat just as their doors opened so I could grab an order of their famous duck fat fries to go — along with a salad. (I like food, but I could feel this trip murdering my cholesterol with every passing moment.)
The final stop in Portland was a tour of Allagash Brewing Company, where I got to sample an excellent sour and saison. Probably should have bought a couple bottles, but at this point I was ready to swear off beer and junk food for the foreseeable future.
Hey Maine, let's stay friends, k?
...has now been added to my portfolio! If you're not on the mailing list (you should be), feel free to click below to browse the catalog.
May was all about moms — most importantly, MY mom. Mother's day, her birthday, and her retirement all coincided last month, so it was obvious we had to do something special. That's how most of the Lombardis ended up in Washington, D.C. for Mother's Day weekend and a slew of Carol-centric activities.
Let's take a moment real quick to talk about my mom, because this is my blog and she's awesome. My mom is a hilarious combination of old-school Catholic who also loves raunchy comedies like Wedding Crashers and The Hangover. She always gives my friends big, warm hugs (hers are the best) when she sees them, yet will be even quicker than I to groan if we end up seated near small children in any situation. She has introduced me to fine, Carol-approved ideas such as breakfast cake ("it's healthier if you eat it for breakfast") and taping down the front of your pants for a smoother look. And she passed on to me an unhealthy interest in Zac Efron films, epic eye-rolling abilities, and the worst decision-making skills known to man.
She is the only person I look forward to talking on the phone with, and she is an endless source of entertainment, often because — sorry, mom — she's the butt of many jokes between my brothers and I. But it's all done out of love, I swear!
Most importantly, though, my mom is a source of unending love and support for her kids, even when she's scolding me for swearing too much on this blog or arguing with me over the importance of pointless, outdated, boring wedding rituals.
Basically, she's the best. So when my dad was going to be in D.C. — where my eldest brother, Matt, lives — for a work event the week of Mother's Day, she decided to come along. And then I decided to fly down. And all of a sudden, four-fifths of the Lombardis were taking D.C. by storm.
Here's what we did:
HIRSHORN MUSEUM & SCULPTURE GARDEN
My mom was super psyched about this art exhibit called "Infinity Mirrors" at the Hirshorn Museum & Sculpture Garden. Apparently, it was kind of a big deal, because all of the free tickets immediately sold out in less than 60 seconds after they were released. No joke. She was quite bummed, because it was the last weekend for the exhibit.
Luckily, I started stalking the Hirshorn Museum on social media and discovered that they were selling tickets for a special evening admission to the exhibit. So we snapped those up, and as soon as we all got to town Friday night (...after taking too long to eat dinner and literally arriving only minutes before our designated timed entrance...), we fulfilled my mom's first wish.
This was the first thing we saw.
My dad and I stood in front of this for a moment. "They're like, stuffed pantyhose?" I ventured. My dad looked dubious. He and my brother, of course, had zero interest in this outing in the first place, so they were trying to ration their jokes for the evening.
Then we entered the next room and saw this.
I stood looking at the chair for a moment, thinking that it kind of looked like it was covered in white sweet potatoes. Then my dad pointed to a sign. "They're dicks!"
Needless to say, my dad and brother used up all of their jokes within the next fifteen minutes.
The actual Infinity Mirrors exhibit was pretty cool, though. (I highly suggest Googling it, as my pictures probably aren't the best representation. Also, they wouldn't let you take pictures in the last room, which was my favorite. Apparently too many people have lost their balance and fallen...)
The Artist. (No one else got my Power Rangers reference.)
GEORGETOWN GARDEN TOUR
You know who likes gardens? MOMS. It's a fact of life, just like how moms also love Josh Groban and Michael MacDonald. Think about it.
We spent Saturday afternoon poking around various backyards of Georgetown, which were more about fancy landscaping than flowers, and my mom was haaaaaappy. Me, I was more interested in the free refreshments served at the end, but hey: everybody wins.
I even refrained from pushing Matt into several pools. You're welcome.
NATIONALS VS. PHILLIES BASEBALL GAME
Being from south Jersey, my mom has a history of rooting for the Phillies. Having been forced to watch an ungodly amount of Phillies baseball at relatives' houses over the past 30 years, I have developed a passionate hatred for them and find great pleasure in rooting for their defeat. Play ball!
Even better than getting to watch the Nationals beat the Phillies, though, was the fact that it was Pups in the Park Night. Dogs. Baseball. Beer. So many good things happening all at once.
I'm having a hard time remembering the last time I was this excited about something.
My brother and I share our curly blonde hair, blue eyes, and a never-ending obsession with one day owning a dog. #goals
BRUNCH AT OLD EBBIT GRILL (& OPEN HOUSES)
We had some good food that weekend, but the best, in my opinion, was the Mother's Day brunch we had at Old Ebbit Grill. I convinced my mom to share the lobster frittata and brioche french toast with me, and I'm still thinking about how good they were, weeks later. Also, the grill has a long history in D.C., dating back to the mid-1800s, and it totally looks like the kind of place where government bigwigs come to knock back a few drinks and make some shady deals. Basically, lots of wood paneling.
After brunch, we spent the rest of the day visiting open houses, because my brother's in the midst of trying to buy a condo somewhere. Luckily, open houses are on my mom's list of interests, along with brunch and ice cream, which came later.
In case you're interested, we also ate at Graffiato (the White House pizza and did not disappoint) and Founding Farmers (a cool mix of decor on the inside, an interesting mix on the menu itself).
It was a pretty solid weekend and, more importantly, I think my mom had a decent time. Just a reminder, folks: call your moms. It's Sunday.
I've been branching out a bit at work lately, and we just wrapped my latest project: the summer catalog for AllModern. If you're not familiar with the brand, its motto is essentially "everything modern at unbelievable prices." The style and brand voice could not be more different from Birch Lane — which is why I had a blast doing it.
Once the catalog is in the mail, I'll add the whole thing to my portfolio, but in the meantime, I wanted to share some of the stuff that didn't make it into the catalog. When you're working in a creative field, there are always rounds and rounds of feedback, and sometimes, even when you really love an idea, it's not what the client is looking for.
BUT. That doesn't mean they have to disappear into the ether, right? Without further ado, here's a peek at some of the stuff that wasn't quite right for the book, but still makes me smile:
Obviously, none of this should be considered final, and the book went through a couple rounds of stylistic changes, so that's why there are different versions of capitalizations. I can't wait to share where we landed with the final product! (Some of my snark survived.)
...Because a Lisa Party happens approximately once a decade.
Yes! After all my hard work to whip the apartment into shape for myself (and fully embracing the solitude life of a basement dweller), I did a 180 and invited a dozen-plus people into my home. Voluntarily.
I'm surprised, too.
But it was pretty fun! At least, I had fun. And that's what matters. In addition to loading up on food and booze beforehand, I made some other changes to the apartment. Let's see.
PILLOWS
Call me basic, but I'm a sucker for a kilim. A lot of pillows in this style come in some pretty whackadoo colors, so it took a lot of digging to find combos (and designs!) that I thought could work in my space without making it look like the southwest threw up in my living room. The Etsy shop ZDkilimspillow had a great selection at reasonable prices — plus, my purchase was followed by the adorable note:
Thank you so much for your order,
I wish you that feel happy while using your pillow
Thank you,
Kind regards,
Zeynep.
Aw, Zeynep.
I do feel happy while using my pillows, but I will note that these are mostly decorative — you're not going to be snuggling up with them any time soon as they're quite scratchy on the woven side.
I also picked up this larger one from H&M on the off-chance that I DID get the urge to snuggle up with a pillow sometime. (Hey, hangovers happen.) H&M's stuff is pretty hit or miss, but I like the material and simple pattern on this one. Plus, their pillow inserts are cheap.
PLANTS
I know now to stick to only the cheapest, hardiest of plants, so I made stops at Home Depot and Trader Joe's for some basic green. The "tropical" plant above and my snake plant are both still kicking more than a month later, but I know better than to get complacent...they'll probably die soon.
But my zizi plants are still going strong! These have been with me since my last apartment. When my fiddle-leaf fig tree bit the dust, I transferred my two zizi plants into the big pot so I could once more have something decent next to the bed. This picture might be awful, but look how great that plant is surviving!
Sidenote: If anyone knows how to succeed in taking good pictures of a basement apartment, please do share. I think my #1 barrier to posting more is a lack of decent images to accompany all this word garbage I have no problem spewing.
RUG
Yep, I bought a rug. Probably wasn't necessary, but now I can officially refer to this tiny square of space as the "living room." Plus, my secret favorite thing ever is stalking products and snatching them up the second they go on sale, which is what happened with this rug after it had first sold out for a couple months. It's a simple flatweave with a printed pattern, so nothing fancy, but I wasn't looking for a forever rug and I dig the design. I've been assured that it's not too much black/white/gray in one space, but if you disagree...please don't tell me.
CHAIR
Actually purchased after my party, but whatever. Also, guess what? Pretty much no one sat down while they were here, anyway! All that loveseat drama WAS FOR NOTHING.
JK. I love my loveseat and it brings me great joy. It allows me to partake in one of my favorite activities: comfortably eating in front of the TV.
Back to the chair. I've wanted this chair for, oh...maybe four years? At least? Not really sure why, since a solid number of people have told me just how uncomfortable they think butterfly chairs are, but I'm a fan, personally. I also prefer to sit cross-legged whenever possible and am one of the first to plop down on the floor in meetings, too, though, so...don't judge it based on my opinion. But what I can say unequivocally is that it's a smart choice for a studio apartment, because I can fold it up and tuck it away when it's not in use/blocking the way to the laundry/whenever I feel like it. Points for practicality!
It was, however, expensive, and there was no getting around that, though I did manage to buy it while it was on sale for one of the only times in the past several years, so I can at least tell myself that. Also, I had picked up the frame in the clearance section for $10 about a year ago and have been hoarding it for this very moment, so, pat on the back, Past & Present Lisa.
Whatever. I'm alone in the world and only have myself to spend my money on. Let's splurge!
That's it for now. I will say one more thing about hosting people in your home, though: a certain someone may have scoffed at the idea of include carrot sticks and hummus as part of my snack spread, but they went like HOT CAKES. I also cannot recommend enough making a couple simple pizzas to anchor the food situation — it's a low-stress, affordable, and delicious option. And they're easy to jazz up and seem fancy, too. Yeah, I'm basically an expert hostess now.
NOVEMBER, 2016
I'm convinced that my only option for comfortable seating in my studio apartment is a couple of arm chairs. I spend a few weeks searching for suitable options that meet the necessary criteria: stylish, small, and comfortable. Every time I find something I like, I realize it's either huge or will likely be no more suited for movie-watching than my woven wooden chairs, and as I'm complaining on the phone to my mom she tells me over and over again to "just get a sofa already."
In my attempt to prove her wrong, to show that there's no way a sofa would fit, I break out the measuring tape and discover...well, actually, maybe it would.
The next search begins. The two sofas I've had my eye on in the past are nixed due to size or cost, and that's when I find it: the perfect solution.
Don't let the orange sway you — it comes in the perfect feather gray, as well, which is exactly what I was looking for. Neutral, modern lines, and most importantly: 68 inches wide. Long enough to comfortably seat two people who aren't looking to make out with each other, short enough to still allow the fridge door to open and close unimpeded. Yessssss. I visit my local West Elm several times just to sit on it and inspect it from every possible angle. I ask if the legs come off. I measure it in person to make sure the dimensions online are 100% accurate. I sit on it again until I'm finally convinced. This is the one.
Being the cheapskate that I am, I look up when the next major sale will take place (Black Friday) and then strategically open a West Elm credit card so I can earn store credit for the large purchase. Even better: I learn that you get a $50 bonus just for signing up when you make a qualifying purchase, and a $25 bonus on your birthday.
I do the math, and unfortunately, I won't get the bonuses in time to use toward the loveseat. But hey, I'm gonna need some pillows, right? So I'm not too concerned. The week of the sale, I check the website and my heart drops: the gray option is gone. I call customer service. I call my local store. Everyone I speak with tells me a different story: it was taken down because it's so popular that it's backordered too far in the future; it wasn't popular enough, so they stopped making it; the image needs retouching but it should be back on the site soon.
By the time the sale starts, it's still not online, so I go into the store and try to place my order in person. The girl behind the counter rings me up and even bumps up my discount when we discover that the gray option is priced cheaper than the orange (red flag) and won't meet the threshold for the full 30% off. Then, the first snag: there are only 18 of them left in stock, and they are all in Georgia, outside of my delivery area. I'm worried, but she assures me that her manager can call and make arrangements; they've done it before. Ta-da! Loveseat ordered.
DECEMBER, 2016
A couple weeks go by and I haven't received an update about my order. I call the store to check in and it's worse than I feared: the ones left in stock were manufactured incorrectly, and since they don't exactly match the image that was advertised, West Elm won't sell them. When I ask when new ones will be made, I'm told that it will happen but they have no idea when. I cancel my order, heartbroken.
Then, the very next day, I check the website again, and there it is! The gray loveseat! (I have an email in my Sent folder, to my mom, entitled "WTF West Elm.")
Except, wait. The picture's different this time:
That handsome dark frame that's still paired up with the orange option had been replaced by a blonde wood. I email my store to see what's up and am told that the light wood is the manufacturing mistake and they've decided to sell them, after all. I then spend a good hour clicking back and forth between the two, trying to decide which I prefer. I poll friends and family. I deliberate. I find myself still leaning toward the dark wood — it's not that I dislike the light option, it's just that I like the dark one better! And knowing that it's out there, and could potentially be mine, halts me.
I make the decision to keep waiting, and try to find something else in the meantime.
Meanwhile, my $50 store credit arrives, and I can't find a single thing I want to spend it on.
JANUARY, 2017
Christmas is over and I'm back home in my apartment, staring forlornly at the empty space in front of my TV. I want to have people over, dammit! I also want to be able to sit through an entire movie without resorting to switching to my laptop just so I can comfortably lay in bed.
The six-month mark is looming. I want a loveseat. Fuck it.
I resolve to order the gray one, light wood and all. At this point, I realize that my birthday credit bonus never showed up and proceed to talk to three different people about getting that resolved. It finally takes a woman in a Las Vegas call center to get me that additional $25 off, but I secure it, add in a $15 holiday bonus (merry Christmas, indeed), my $50 sign-up bonus, and place my order — price-matched to the original request.
Then I wait.
FEBRUARY, 2017
It's here! It's here! It's here! Three weeks later, it's arrived at my local store. I'm a scrooge, so I've waived the delivery (an extra $120? no, thank you) and instead rented a UHaul van and guilt-tripped one of my coworkers into helping me. We get to the store, a couple of their guys load the gigantic box into the back, and we're on our way.
When we get to my apartment, we quickly realize that the size of the box makes it almost impossible to get a good grip, so we unwrap it right there in the street and bring the loveseat inside with no trouble. It's when I go back outside to move the cardboard out of the road, however, that I see it: one of the legs, broken off and still in the box.
Fuuuuuuck.
I email the pictures to the store, and since it's such a jagged break, they promise to send a new replacement loveseat, no delivery charge.
Oooookay.
Determined to enjoy my loveseat that very weekend, I prop the corner on a jar of quinoa (I later switch to a more stable combination of rock-and-can-of-tuna fish when Katie yells at me) and proceed to watch several hours of the FX O.J. Simpson mini series, eventually falling asleep under a pile of laundry. I'm living that sweet loveseat life.
Two weeks go by and I'm told that the new loveseat is ready to be delivered on Saturday. I'm given a time window and promised that they'll call when they're a half hour away. Good, good.
Saturday morning, I get up and run my errands so I'll be home in time. When I'm five minutes away from my apartment, I get a call from the store: the delivery men tried to deliver my loveseat, and it was refused, so they left and have gone on to their next appointment.
Several problems with this. One: I never received a call saying they were on their way. Two: I never received a call saying they'd arrived. Three: They tried to deliver it to my landlord which, if they had called, they would have known was the wrong apartment. I'm told that they cannot come back later in the day, and that I might have to wait until Monday for the delivery.
And this is where I lose it. I've worked in customer service, both as an operator in a call center and as a store employee, so I know how shitty it is to deal with an angry customer. I've really tried to stay calm and reasonable throughout this entire ordeal, going out of my way to be polite and thankful to everyone who helped me, but this. will. not. stand.
I have some stern words with the very nice store manager and tell her that this is unacceptable (key angry customer word) and there is no way I'm waiting until Monday, especially since I have work that day. MAKE IT WORK, WEST ELM.
The good news is that they were able to arrange the delivery for the next day, and that the delivery men seemed very scared of me when they arrived. Oh, and also I now have a functional, in-tact loveseat.
I will say this: that light wood frame looks damn good with the rest of my apartment. So that snafu was a bit of a blessing, after all.
After all that, will I be shopping with West Elm again? I mean, yeah, because I still have store credit to use up, but I don't think I can recommend ordering large furniture from them. (Craigslist, however, is still #1 in my heart.) We'll see what their response is to my very long, very detailed, very annoyed letter of complaint.
In the meantime, if you need me, I'll be on my loveseat. Probably napping underneath some laundry.
I have a problem with sitting still.
Faced with a weekend of no plans, I find myself physically incapable of just sleeping in, vegging out, and watching endless amounts of garbage TV. Don't get me wrong — I can work my way through a random series just as well as the next gal, but it's always accompanied by some chore, some project, some other task.
That's how I ended up painting my coffee cart a few weeks ago.
In the midst of my flurry of little projects, I began toying with the idea of adding some more color to my apartment. Yes, the photos helped, but the fact remains that I live in a giant, beige box filled with endless amounts of light-colored wood. Painting the walls is too large of a cost and undertaking, but I could paint more furniture. And after my dresser project, I've fallen ever more in love with the idea of a deep, rich navy as a neutral. So I decided to paint my cart to match.
Nothing like some quality time in the dungeon, listening to My Favorite Murder, and inhaling paint fumes. Best weekend ever.
I like.
