If PLSs Are Basic, I Don't Even Want To Be Bad.

I have had a splendid time in my day judging girls, but this whole Basic Bitch/Bad Bitch fight has to get sorted out. You know why? Because it's fall and I want to do a bunch of really basic ass shit and I consider myself a straight up Bad Bitch for life.

You know what makes someone Basic? Doing something because everyone else does it. If you're kicking it in the Midwest with chunky highlights or an inverted bob and some chandelier earrings, you basic, girl. You need to get your shit sorted and look at some magazines and exit 2004. Those things can't even be considered classic, they're just no bueno. Do not be afraid of what the other moms at daycare would say, they're Basic as Fuck too. It's totally ok to try out that look you saw on Kate Hudson that one time.  Now, if you know the basic things you're wearing are tragically uncool, have given it some extra thought and decided "You know what? This is how I look best and I'm gonna run with this! Tunics and puffy vests forever!" then, strut those mom jeans, girl. STRUT. With pride. We can't all look cutting edge all the time! I wear loafers every second someone doesn't forcefully take them off my feet and though the people around me collectively sigh every time they see them coming, I think I look like Michael fucking Jackson, but cooler and a better dancer. So fuck everyone. I woke up like dis.

It's now fall. The most Basic time of year. What honestly tends to cause all of us to look slightly basic in this season is the changing weather. It's not always easy to look fierce as hell when it's 40 degrees and raining. Sometimes one must wear some chore boots and a parka and carry around a latte because it's necessary. Now, can those be American flag or rose print chore boots and a lace bomber jacket instead? Sure they can, if you're me and you want to piss off your very tasteful and conservative  loved ones. Go for it! I live to see the cringing.

And you know what else?? If I want to wear a chunky turtleneck sweater and vintage riding boots and stand in a pumpkin patch taking a selfie while drinking apple cider, I'm going to fucking do it. I'm going to do it ALL DAY LONG. In fact, I'll post whatever GD Instagram I choose. Fall foliage in Grosse Pointe? You bet. The back of my dude's head as he reads the newspaper with #adorbs? Fuck yes. My first PSL (and if you don't know what that stands for, just quit life now) held up against a cloudy sky? You bet! Cornfield-lined dirt roads? Fuck yes again. It's not like I'm getting fake nails with French manicures, for fucks sake, it's just some simple seasonal clichés! They're tradition! Still Bad Bitch Status.

And while I'm at Pure Barre, in my chore boots and Patagonia, while sipping a latte and taking a selfie and tagging myself there I will still be #flawless.

Now I Want A Slice Of Pizza And A Latte

Holy balls, been a month since I blogged. Back to my old ways again. Too busy with the 3 dimensional people.

Every year on 9/11 I write about that day. Maybe I did it because it was one of the scariest days of my life. Maybe I did it because I was grateful I was alive and everyone I cared about made it out safely. I'm not sure. I don't want to write about it anymore. So many of the posts read "never forget", well how could you? If you experienced that day the way a lot of us did, forgetting is not an issue. That fear and sorrow and uncertainty is burned on you forever. But I don't want to relive that day anymore just to remember.

The last time I was in New York, it was a really beautiful, mild, sunny weekend. We were strolling around and laughing and I was taking one billion pictures, natch. I remember staring up at the new tower SO bright in the sunshine and walking by the site of the others. So many years later, that day is still very evident in that area. They don't need reminding and they will certainly never forget. It's very heavy.

What I think about most with New York is just happily walking around, slight buzz from day drinking, laughing, arm in arm with him while wearing the new grey jacket I just bought, really enjoying the city. Drunk out of my mind on champagne grinding in the club. Leaning my head on him in a cab. I remember watching kids blowing bubbles in Central Park. I think I still have pictures of them on my phone. It's a happy place. A bustling, loud, Starbucks covered, booming laughter, neighborhood bar joking, candlelit cocktails, be whoever you want, blending into the bricks happy place for me. I feel very relaxed and at home in that city.

Those are the kinds of things I never forget.