I'm currently at Zhivago cafe on Broadway. Perks include: a) being a new cafe (ergo not crowded), b) having outlets that work, and c) not having unfortunate footnotes from my past hanging around here nonstop. Seriously, there are some people best run into few and far between.
On the drive down here, I found it bizarre how many joggers were out and about. Part of it, I'm sure, is me. I have never been a runner. Or at least not a long-distance runner. I did track in middle school, and we had to run two miles every day, and I NEVER IMPROVED. At all. For me, running equals immediate pain, and I am of the school that pain should be avoided whenever possible. But seriously, you guys. It's the beginning of January. It's been raining all day long. It's dark out. I get that you're a masochist, or whatever, but maybe you should try flagellating yourself or wearing goathair underwear during the winter months. Plus, joggers always have this high and mighty attitude about what is clearly an addiction. Hey, guess what? Running on pavement is actually really crap on your joints. I mean, if the person were addicted to crack instead of running, and someone saw them going out in the elements for hours a day, every day, in clearly inclement weather, to smoke the stuff, people would say "YOU HAVE A PROBLEM. YOU NEED TO STOP." Instead, these endorphin addicts have convinced us all to be in awe of their bizarre behavior, because we apparently have no "willpower" and don't see the merits of the "runner's high".
. . . anyways.
In fashion news today, apparenty Rodarte is coming out with men's sweaters, aptly called 'BROdarte".
I'm not sure what to think. Yes, the laddered knit is pretty cool. But I don't know. For the first thing, I'm pretty sure men aren't going to be sporting this look anytime soon. Big gaping holes of chest are not generally a look men aspire to. It's kind of an interesting question. Why is it that things that are "cool" on a woman are suddenly unacceptably weird on a guy? Not that I've never seen something similar on a man; growing up in Olympia lends to many an encounter with some "creative" styles from both genders. 'Cept these boys probably knit their weird sweaters themselves. (Oly>fashion world.)
But just, something about the name. I mean, I suppose Rodarte couldn't resist it, but anything that reminds me of "Bro" culture is something I tend to (try my best to) ignore. I guess the jury (me) is still out on this one. I am much fonder of the plain black one than the striped ones; the striped ones remind me of my knitting experiences, where I find this "gorgeous" variegated yarn that I think will look gorgeous, only to have it have that ugly, camo-esque, "my great aunt made me this for me for Christmas" look about it. I can handle solid colors, though. Solid colors are (usually) better, even though they're boring when you're looking around in a fabric or yarn shop.
Finally, I can go no longer without exalting my Christmas present of the most decadent, amazing scent ever:
Ineke's Field Notes from Paris. No, I will not link it, you are NOT stealing my new signature scent. Or if you are, you will have to google it yourself. Seriously, undernotes of tobacco, and such glorious patchouli! Isn't it odd that the worst smell in the world has to be cheap patchouli, but expensive patchouli? HEAVEN. At any rate, I'm in LOVE with this scent. I literally spend my entire day intermittently sniffing my sleeve to catch a hint of it, which puts me in a heady daze.
And now, back to my Americano.
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