Why The Suburbs Are The Worst

Levittown, New York is the birthplace of sprawling suburbia…apparently.

I have done the unthinkable.

Allow me to explain. 2013 has been…interesting and has seen me slightly removed from my comfort zone. Slightly. The result? The unthinkable. I have done what I swore to myself I wouldn’t—become a lemming in this sleepy government town. I bought a home. In the suburbs. The horror.

I had my reasons, like others do for doing the things that they do, for doing what I did. I love my humble abode, just not its surroundings. Row upon row upon row of houses, identical in nature and lacking in character. People watching, my favourite pass time while living in Ottawa’s beloved Centretown, has become the equivalent to a model landing a Vogue cover—nearly non-existent. The shops of Mom & Pop are—no longer a brisk walk—a loooooong car ride away. My daily inspiration, whatever that means, cannot be found in my surroundings but through my computer screen. For shame. Solidifying my further isolation since moving to the suburbs: my cell phone reception’s refusal to go beyond one bar, often searching for service and finding nothing. NOTHING. Leaving me to stand in varying corners of my condo, waiting patiently (read: bitterly) for that text to send. With my inability to connect wherever and with whomever while at home, my disdain for suburban life grows stronger with each dropped call, every unrefreshed social feed and inability to quickly send and receive SMSs from the iPhone-less.

Alas, how does one survive such atrocities?

Before I made my decision to buy and move, I did weigh the pros and cons. Ultimately financial reasons were the catalyst; the old argument of building equity blah, blah, blah…but I’m thinking rematch. I’m still not sold on the benefits of home ownership and the upfront and lingering hidden costs that go along with it…

I miss shoe shopping.

How I Feel About Blogging In 505 Words Or Less

This is me, hating blogging.I’m going to be frank—or Francine, whatever you’re comfortable with—I suck at blogging. Case and point? This post sat chained and rotting in my draft folder for over a year.

THE REVELATION
No evidence to the contrary. My last post was eons ago, in fashion years, and of very little substance. How do you people do it? And by you people, I mean fashion bloggers or bloggers in general. Not that any sane human being, other than members of my immediate family (who happen to be quite sane), reads this so-called blog. But the question remains, “How is it done?”. Consistently.  And well, I should add.

THE EXPLANATION
Blogging. I hate the word. It sounds so ugly and violent. Like “blogging” baby seals in the Arctic. That’s what it’s become, blogging, something I hate, something ugly and violent. Continue reading

the answer’s obvious

It’s in the ocean…

It’s almost the middle of April and I’m about to do something that I rarely, if at all, do. Reflect. Review. Reevaluate. Repeat. This is an exercise I usually, and reluctantly, only start after Christmas when the looming cloud of the unknown that is the New Year falls upon us. But I’d like to try something different, something new, something…something. For once, I’d like to try something and see if it sticks. However, what that is exactly, I would most certainly like to find out.

I’ve written before, or maybe not – I don’t remember – about New Year’s resolutions, of how I wanted to try to act more like an adult, to be more self-aware, to essentially get my notional “shit together”.  I’m going to assume a good first step would be to look back on the past 4 months and see what’s up: have I grown? To answer my question, no. I mean c’mon, it’s only been 4 months. Get off my back.

In all seriousness, I feel like definite life changes (define life changing, there are degrees right?) are afoot. I have made a more conscious effort to live more like a grown-up. Eating healthier (somewhat) and not ordering out (as often), doing the dishes (by putting them ALL in the dishwasher), folding my laundry (before the pile begins to outgrow me), etc. Essentially, living more like a functioning member of society, one who uses their time efficiently and wastes not their opportunities. I don’t know what that last sentence means, but bare with me, okay? Upon my self-re-evaluation I’ve notice that I have too much clutter in my life. It’s organized in my own little way, in boxes on shelves around my apartment, out of sight and out of mind but that’s exactly what the problem is. That is exactly what I’ve been blindly dealing with – putting things out of sight and out of mind.

What do I have to do to change it? Well the answer’s obvious. Face shit head-on, not literally of course, figuratively. Keep it in-mind and deal with it then, there and now. Finding my way through the clutter to fresh, clean, green and cow pile-free pastures. Be that with work, life and play. What exactly does this have to do with fashion or this blog? Everything.

More than you will ever know.

Toodles!

p.s. Photo taken in Punta Cana in March of last year. Wishing I was there now…

fear and self-loathing in las vegas

“These used to fit…”
That conversation you have with yourself in between sucking the air out of your stomach while trying to Glad Bag yourself into those boot-legged slacks that caressed your derrière oh so perfectly just a few months earlier. Yeah, I’ve been there. I began to notice my increasingly infuriating struggle to get dressed in the morning, made all the more distressing by the rush to be on time, which was in turn aggravated by dishonorable sleeping patterns. After finally realizing Aunt Flo and the bloatedness that comes with, could no longer be to blame, I came to terms with the truth: I had gained a lot (define a lot?) weight. And I didn’t like.

I’ve had underlying body issues before, I mean, who hasn’t. But my growing ennui had hit a new-found high. Shopping’s not as enjoyable; the real tragedy. I joke. No, the real tragedy is not feeling as good about yourself as you used to, being ashamed to be photographed, maintaining ill-advised dietary habits, or cringing each time you pass a reflective surface (mirrors especially). This story: will it remain a tragedy or end triumphant? I’m working on that. I bought  a while back to jump-start my get-up-and-go. I’m still waiting for it to kick in. I get it in bouts that last a few days at a time, where I kick all my habits of lethargy in the ass and get my shit together. I know what I should and should not be doing, the problem is that it’s easier to do nothing at all.


How I plan to get back into shape…

I’m ever so slowly taking steps to make myself feel good again. Ever. So. Slowly. I need to find the combination of exercise, eating habits and general excellency that works for me. I want to take up yoga again and going to the gym on the regular. But these things take time. A friend told me the other day that it takes 21 days for something to become routine. Today is Day 3.

I’ll keep you posted.

Toodles!