Nicole Lee bag / Lou & Grey sweater / Dogeared wishbone necklace / Madewell bar necklace / F21 pearl rings / Dogeared 3-set rings / UO hat / Madewell skinnies / Steve Madden sandals
(Photography by Lynn Gilmour a.k.a. lynniecg)
*insert inspirational, tear-jerking phrases and New Year's resolutions*
If you're like me, New Years can genuinely evoke that one-of-a-kind feeling of rebirth and rejuvenation. Call it a cathartic tabula rasa-esque moment--in human words: a blank slate. But there's a twist--it only lasts for a few days (maybe a week) tops. Por que? Because, let's face it, the New Year may entail an overly generous pour of cheap champagne in wine glasses (as was my case) and a little elf-like dance as you celebrate to a new year you'll be in control of. But subtract the drinks, glitter-like confetti Ke$ha would strongly approve of, and the overly melodramatic countdown, and you're left with a queasy combination of excitement and anxiety. All you anxiety-prone people, raise your hands up--myself, included.
So for 2015, my main New Years Resolution amidst the cliché and blasé classics like--"work out more", "read more", "do something other than sit like a lumpy potato on your beanbag while overly abusing your Netflix account", is to travel more. Okay, okay. I swear, I'm not being a cop-out. For some of us, traveling can be either incredibly exhilarating or it can be a nervous Britney-Spears-esque breakdown waiting to happen. Remember, I'm anxiety-prone.
No, I'm not going to get abducted by Russian/French mafia dudes dressed in black in Paris (Taken 3 is the last movie meaning Liam Neeson can't make Taken 4 just for me). No, I'm not going to get lost in London because they do speak English. So, rather than progressively building my anxiety for my semester in London, I will naturally take the next best medicine to cure my traveling worries. Explore Los Angeles!
If you look up my full name in the dictionary, you'll find California girl. Correction: SOCal girl. Don't fight me on this--West Coast, Best Coast. Also, SoCal > NorCal. Period.
What better way to start my enlightening adventure with two of my best gals, Lynn and Devi, than with a scrumptious meal and dessert at the infamous Bottega Louie (think West Coast version of Laduree)? If you want a finger-lickin lunch and don't have "eat healthier" on your New Year's list, I'd pick the Orecchiette. *faux and butchered Italian accent is a must when ordering*.
Most people go to Louie to get their charming macarons and obviously drool over the endless rows of Instagram-worthy desserts. I admit, I fell victim to whipping out my phone for an attempted artsy shot and even got stabbed in the foot by a lady wearing dagger-like stilettos while snapping pics. The things I do for a good instagram shot...
Do it for the gram.
For all you visual learners out there, I'll be posting pics of my bittersweet encounter at Louie for my next post!
Fast forward and skip past the drive which consisted of nonchalantly cruising past skid row while Devi blasts her "TRAP" music (what are kids listening to these days?). Once we bravely passed Urth Caffe with food comas (alright, we surrendered with hot coffees), we explored the Art District. It was a slice of Brooklyn heaven a lá graffiti-sprayed and hand-painted parking lot walls and a sprinkling of underground hipster stores. A lot of the mini boutiques were the kinds that sold overly-priced Mason jars, amethyst candles, and questionable but very artsy flatware. For a split moment, I envisioned a past life of me as an Art-District-wandering native sipping bitter black coffee while walking my French bulldog and wearing thick, wooden eyeglasses. Hey, it could happen.