i wind around the parties drink in hand

Two things:

1. Americans like to label themselves by their work. On Saturday, after surviving the rapture, I was asked this question no less than six times. I gave a different answer each time. There are only so many times I can say, "a jack of all trades, master of none" without sounding like a cliche. I wonder what this woman says when she gets asked that. Do socialites actually claim themselves as socialites? I said that (somewhat jokingly) to a stranger and his face went like O_O.

2. Raise your hand if the idea of the rapture freaked you out and prevented you from getting a good night's sleep. Okay, so it was just me. Can I move somewhere there aren't religious activists? How about that space in the middle of Australia?

I love the facade of Ryan's apt. complex.

Greasiest place in America.

How much more literal can chili cheese fries get?

Later, Ryan mashed the leftover chili and cheese and ate it. Cheese is not supposed to be that color.

The bar at the W Downtown.

Freezing poolside.

why i will never be on the real world

I have a penchant for really bad television, and I mean, really bad television. I've watched two seasons of The Bad Girls Club, nearly every single reality show on VH1 (including both seasons of What Chili Wants), and countless other craptastic reality shows. But what really prompted my insatiable desire was Real World Paris, the first Real World I ever saw.*

Now that I've seen a whopping NINE seasons (ten, if you include me making my way through this year's Las Vegas), I've come to the conclusion that I would never be chosen to be featured on this show for the following reasons:

1. I'm too smart. I have a degree from a decent university, graduated with a relatively high GPA, and studied English Literature. Paper credentials aside, I watch the news, listen to NPR religiously, and read voraciously (even if I do spend a lot of time reading shit novels like the Sookie Stackhouse series). Sarah from Real World Philadelphia closely matched my academic field and interests, and she turned out to be a total snooze, often casting her roommates aside for a more creative crowd. Since then, The Real World has yet to cast another English major.

2. I'm not a homophobe. As proven by homophobic but possible-homosexual (and thus self-loathing, potential gay man) Ryan from New Orleans among many others, placing intolerant people in a house with a stereotype of the group of people he/she cannot stand makes instant television gold. This formula has been rehashed by the Real World group for countless seasons, and it still doesn't bore me.

3. I'm Asian. The last Asian to be featured on The Real World was San Diego's Jamie Chung, who later went on to be a D-list movie star. In a possible move to prevent the world from seeing films like "Sorority Row," the casting crew of The Real World series has refused to place another Asian face in the show. I prefer this reasoning, because the other (and most obvious) would be that The Real World is racist.

4. I don't have a drug addiction/abusive boyfriend/rough home life/crazy religious upbringing.

5. I'm not a nymphomaniac.

6. I'm not straight edge or a religious celibate either.

7. I'm too old.

*This really comes at a shock to most people, but my parents didn't get cable I was in college. This probably explains why I consume cable television voraciously.
OMG, I think the bird outside my window is having sex because the chirping noises just got REALLY FAST, GROSS!!!!!




top. Zara
pants. Zara
jacket. Zara
shoes. Balenciaga
Fuck me for wearing all Zara.

werner herzog needs to narrate my life

On Monday, Sooji and I went to see Werner Herzog's new documentary, "Cave of Forgotten Dreams." I'm a huge fan of his documentaries - the two I've seen, at least - but I found myself dozing a bit through this one. It's undeniably beautiful, and Herzog has an incredible talent for discovering fascinating bits of nature and linking its relevance to human society. However, there were so many portions of this film that dragged, and sitting in a dark theater mid-afternoon without any coffee while soothing operatic music plays is a recipe for sleep.

The film documents a trip to a recently discovered cave in southern France that houses a few of the world's oldest paintings. Painted tens of thousands of years ago (ranging from 32,000 to 20,000 years ago), they are in pristine condition due to the calcification of the rocks. The images are breathtaking and completely unreal. A part of me refuses to believe that such a place exists, and without these images from Herzog, I would believe it's all part of someone's wild CGI imagination.

Chauvet Cave, the "Cave of Forgotten Dreams"

Werner Herzog on right

top. Sisley
jacket. Zara
jeans. Cheap Monday
shoes. boutique on Garosugil
bag. Miu Miu

photos by sooji
source: the dfg

the motion keeps my heart running

Castleberry Hill hosts an art walk every second Friday of each month, and last Friday marked my first time attending. All the galleries in the area (most of which are open by appointment only) throw open their doors to artist and art lovers for three hours (7-10pm). It's a great way to introduce yourself to local, national, and international artists while smoozing around booze and snacks. A few food trucks line Walker Street during this time, to Lillie's extreme delight. Spotted Westside Creamery, Kings of Pops, and Tex's Tacos (as pictured).

I was most interested in what we saw at Escape Gallery by Esteban Patino. He created his own alphabet and used wood cut outs to construct various images. The piece I liked the most was entirely white with each character set individually. I think Lillie was most taken with the pieces that are like the one I photographed.

Afterwards, we stopped by Intermezzo to eat cake and drink hot chocolate. There's something grimy about the place now that makes me never want to go back... at least not to the Peachtree location.

Esteban Patino's work at Escape Gallery

A video on Esteban Patino

Hot Chocolate Berlin

Cake with cappuccino frosting - not as good as you would expect

dress. Zara
top. Low Classic from A-land
shoes. Spicy Color
bag. Miu Miu

it's hard to recall the taste of summer

Jinah and I have been trying to go to Empire State South since last December, but our schedules didn't really coincide until last Thursday where we met for a late dinner. We sat outside where we were allowed to freely use the extra bright flash that came with her SO ADORABLE Alice in Wonderland Holga and gab about literally everything. Useless fact: she and I went to summer camp together when we were children, and the single sartorial memory I have of her as a kid has her wearing printed bicycle shorts and T-shirt with craft paint - both items I LOVED as a wayward and ill-advised 8-year-old. Thank God I burned those photos years ago.

As for Empire State South, I was a little underwhelmed, but I think 80% of it is due to me ordering the wrong dish. I had the trout while Jinah wisely chose the duck confit (with a little prodding from me - "Ohmygod, you HAVE to get it," also my catchphrase to egging friends into buying things they don't need). I'm trying to follow the diet advised in "Feed Your Face" by Jessica Wu, which I'm slowly discovering is impossible because I have to give up desserts. (If you see my Seoul posts, you will see that I've been to nearly all the cafes in Garosugil. I've been spoiled.) In a moment of experimental delusion, I ordered the cake puree (I don't even remember the dish's real name), which made me think of cake that's been vomited and repacked into a dessert. (Or something that came from Bridget Jones's dinner party.)

One thing I will attest to is their coffee. I sampled a bit of Jinah's macchiato, and I was briefly transported to Italy as my 14-year-old self where I tried my first espresso. And in true Alicia-like fashion, I spent the rest of the night playing Cooking Dash.





top. Christopher Kane for Topshop
skirt. Korean market
blazer. Zara
shoes. Balenciaga
clutch. Celine

first and last photos by jinah

dripping blue blood from the wrist

I feel like I'm inbetween a lot of things lately. Indecisive about whether or not I like this bipolar weather - is it hot or is it cold? Am I a student or not? Do I love Atlanta or hate it? (Hate it. I think.) Are those lace shorts a necessity or not? How far am I going to go to get them? Why is finding a blazer so hard? I have images of the clothes I want in my mind, but they're not translating to real life.

On the days I want to dress like an adult, I like to wear outfits like this. Helps me blend in with the ladies who lunch. I stalked these shoes on Yoox for four months. I'm totally obsessed with the FW08 Balenciaga collection, even if some of the shoes look like condoms.





dress. Shipley & Halmos for Uniqlo
shoes. Balenciaga FW08
belt. thrift store find
bag. Celine

photos by sooji

we walk in shoes too big

Living in suburbia makes one crazy, so occasionally I venture out to crazy, kitsch places like Medieval Times. I can't lie - the show Camelot (on the Starz network) has reopened my obsession with the King Arthur tales. We had to study them as freshmen in high school, and I really loved the book "The High Queen," which I thought was slightly racy to be on the curriculum for a Catholic high school.

Aside from all the speech about honor and valiance, you get to witness jousting, sword fights, and shitting horses. The only downside is that there are no utensils. I have this stigma about eating with my hands. Also, I feel ill when I watch people lick their fingers. It really disgusts me. Why would you do that? If the chicken is really that good, just order another piece.

No utensils, see?

Our favorite was the black and white knight, but we were sitting in the yellow knight section.

I seeeeeeeee youuuuuuu.

What happened to Wayne Gretzky's face? You know you've fallen when you're advertising for Skechers.

top. black tank by Monki, lace bodysuit by Cheap Monday
pants. Acne
jacket. Zara
belt. H&M
shoes. Aldo
bag. Gucci