Moving On!

After 350 posts, I've graduated to a grown-up blog to match my [semi] grown-up life!

Head on over to TheProseOfKrose.com to follow my shenanigans.

Thanks for reading!

-KR

Accenting with Leopard

It's only natural that my 350th post involves my two favorite things: leopard & pink! This outfit epitomizes my love of wearing brights and neons, even when the temperatures drop. Thank you, J.Crew, for knocking it out of the park with a fall collection that's just delectable.

A word that's definitely never made it to the blog before now...

The only thing I’m more terrified of than a world in which Chinese dumplings, Magners cider, pink dye and Tory Burch footwear cease to exist is cats. Once upon a Brooklyn Heights jog, a stray ran out in front of me and spooked me so much, that I halted my run early. But let’s be real—I wasn’t really complaining about that. Maybe it’s because we’re just polar opposites—me, the blogging, open-book blabber mouth, and them, the sneaky, scratchy scavengers. Regardless, while I’ll never be a cat person, I can appreciate cat stories from my friends who, by some stroke of silliness, are actually fond of felines. Case in point, check out the text that I received yesterday evening from my Greek goddess of a gal pal, EK. Some background context: EK recently got her cat back after it went missing for about three weeks.

“I took ‘Pixie’ to the vet. She had testes.”

Oops!

Taste Bud Titillation

Since bringing lunch to work is equally cool as collecting Pucci scarves, I thought I’d share two tasty treats to titillate your taste buds this fine Friday. And by treats, I mean the two cheap and easy salads that I subsist on weekly.

Exhibit A: Combine arugula, diced peaches, walnuts and goat cheese in a Tupperware container. Coat with balsamic vinegarette. Pray that said contents do not leak and ruin your Louis Vuitton Speedy. Enjoy at noon.

Exhibit B: Rinse two cans of black beans in a colander while microwaving a bag of frozen corn. In a large bowl, mix with avocado, green onion and 1/3 cup of balsamic vinegarette. Let sit overnight. Spoon into Tupperware container. Pray that said contents do not leak and ruin your Foley + Corinna City Tote. Enjoy at noon.

On tap for me this weekend is a trip to Trader Joes and a birthday bash tonight, a day of sunning and Stonehill friends tomorrow, and a venture to the Brooklyn Flea on Sunday! Rest? Overrated.

Light Reading

Happy Hump Day! To be honest, I’ve always hated that expression, but it works for the rhyme I’m about to cue up: if you need some light reading to jump the hump (see that?), mosey on over to my new favorite blog, Brooklyn Blonde. As you can tell by the pictures below, this flaxen fashionista is as unafraid of color as I am (case in point: my dress today is a straight up mosaic!). And, she’s a fellow Brooklynite. Enjoy!

There are just a few Clueless references throughout this post.

While I grew up in a house where TV viewing was permitted before all my homework was finished (just not during—Mamadukes and Daddy-o weren’t that rebellious!), we were by no means a “TV-centric” kind of family. As such, having a DVR was a new phenomenon for me when I moved in with AD back in January. Eight months later, I debate how I ever survived without such a luxury. I also debate how I’m able to craft somewhat-witty semblances of grammatically gorgeous prose. Someone who watches as many episodes of Keeping Up with the Kardashians as I do should probably be in a vegetative state by now.

Where was I going with this? Oh. Franklin and Bash! Do you guys watch? It’s the best thing to happen to cable TV since the Housewives of Bev Hillz, except instead of Giggy the Pom and his (her?) bedazzled and British owner, you have the delicious twosome that is Mark-Paul Gosselar and Breckin Meyer. A.K.A. Zach Morris and the stoner dude from Clueless who thanked the crew at McDonalds while making a celebratory speech about his debate class tardiness.

So, here are two things for Tuesday: (1) if you haven’t watched F&B, get on it, and (2) if you’re a NYC resident who doesn’t plan to attend McCarren Park’s outdoor showing of Clueless tomorrow night, you are even more of a loser than Elton. Or the thug who held Cher up at gunpoint in the Valley. Or that full-on Monet of a failing fashionista, Amber.

But if you are, you’re as top a choice as the furry white backpack that Cher paired with her yellow plaid ensemble in the movie’s opening montage. Naturally, I will see you there, no ifs, ands, or whatevers about it!

A Faux Glow

I promise I did more in July than add to my ever-growing collection of leopard print attire—but when the month in which I blogged a grand total of zero times brought me animalistic items in the form of a fabulous Calvin Klein dress, a slight splurge of a J.Crew pencil skirt, an impulse buy of a faux leather satchel, a bargain blouse from Century 21, a pair of powerhouse pumps, and a new piece de resistance for my closet in the form of leopard jeans (I’m not kidding), it’s hard for me to even grasp the fact that I spent most of July most definitely not shopping—and I have the “tan” to prove.

While my faux glow is more Jergens than genuine, I made sure to milk my weekends with jaunts between Cape Cod and Long Island, where I soaked up equal amounts of Vitamins D and C—though the latter usually involved limes, ice, and, when feeling motivated, a blender. You know how I roll! ;-)

This past weekend in particular was one of Stonehill reunions, with JT and KA’s visit to NYC. In typical fashion, JT had hyped up a surprise for her two favorite K’s, and oh what a surprise it was! Only JT would trek through the concrete jungle with a box of 350 photographs, chronicling college moments that we could respond to with nothing but laughter in between burrito bites at Blockheads.

August arrived quickly this summer. While I welcome the fall for its flavors and fashions, I’m sad to see summer go, and can promise that for the next month, I’ll be making like Sheryl Crow and soaking up as much sun as possible. I hope you'll all do the same!

Until next time,
KR

I'm Not Blogging Just Because I Want You to Hear about my Pucci Skirt.

Remember me? You know, I'm that Legally Blonde-obsessed, leopard print-wearing Reva flat aficionado who let her dear blog slip through the cracks for the past few months. But the past few months were far from boring--there were Pucci purchases, Cape Cod vacations, Tennessee trips and new career paths paved. Here's a top five-style summary of the past few months in my vida loca:

-In what was the most surreal shopping experience of my 23 years, I exited the East Village's Tokyo 7 mid-May with not only a pair of black peep toe Christian Louboutins, but a flowing swirl of an Emilio Pucci silk skirt. It was like the thrift store gods delivering my dream garments to me as a thanks for keeping the bargain shopping business... well, in business. It was materialistically magical.

-While keeping it cool on Cape Cod for Memorial Day weekend, I was privilege to attend a party in which the beverage of choice was Nicholas Feuillate champagne, served straight from a bottle so enormous, that two people needed to pour its precious posion into our flutes. All champagne, I've resigned, should be served as such.

-Throwing back to the days when JT subjected me to the eternal playing of country music, AC, ML and the infamous JW hightailed with me to Nashville, where we donned cowboy boots at the Country Music Fest in the city of southern superstars. Trip highlights included a surprise appearance from Shania Twain, finding the one bar in all the city to serve cider and stuffing my face with the Loveless Cafe's meat sampler--country ham, fried chicken and meal loaf marvelousness, I tell ya!

-True Blood came back. 'nuf said.

-And finally, I began a new job at Thomson Reuters! I left my job at ELLE with a happy heart (and a great crew of new friends!), bound for an exciting new role on the Recruiting Operations team, where I'm working now, learning and loving it every day!

Happy long weekend to you all...
KR

Table Flipping at Dinner. Bird Flipping at Christenings.

Here are five things on my mind this Monday night, inspired by watching the "Real Housewives of New Jersey" in real time for the first time since moving into a DVR-equipped apartment. Let's discuss book club-style.

1. Theresa's daughters dressed as Katy Perry, Lady GaGa, Ke$ha and Sue Sylvester for Halloween. Which of these is unlike the other? What does this say about Theresa's [lack of] parenting ability?

2. As she stated on Watch What Happens LIVE!, Theresa is changing the pronunciation of her last name from Jew-dice to Jew-dee-chay. Do we think this will have a positive effect on the sale of her books, Skinny Italian and Fabulicious? Do we think it's a bit ironic that her cookbook title employs the thin synonym that recently turned ex-housewife (but eternal Bravolebrity) Bethenny Frankel into a a millionaire 130 times over? Who would win in a cute-off: Bryn on Gia?

3. Evidenced by a strut into Jacqueline Laurita's Franklin Lakes castle, Theresa owns knee high Christian Louboutin boots. Do we think she bought these prior to filing for bankruptcy, or after? Does the fact that she owns these boots make you desire a pair a little bit less?

4. Kim G. demonstrated her 54-year-old sassiness at the Poshe Fashion Show at the Brownstone. In a strictly verbal war, on which "G" last name would you put money: Granatell or Jew-dee-chay?

5. Theresa let an s-bomb drop on Andy's live after show. Did you catch that? Did you love it?

Check me out!

Head on over to welovestonehill.com where yours truly--and this here blog!--is featured in this week's testimonial!

Here's to May, mini skirts, margaritas and Memorial Day--
KR

Just A Nomal Lunch...

There's nothing like a normal lunch in Times Square... with Mark Salling (and Chord Overstreet and Cory Monteith in the background!). Our inner Gleeks were in full swing yesterday afternoon as RA and I watched the cast film their journey to Nationals near the TKTS booth. Check out that MOHAWK!

Rosa, azul, amarillo y verde.

While I may not have made it to Mexico this Spring, at least I can bring some south-of-the-border-inspired fun into my wardrobe with this lunch time find from the Anthropologie sale room. Best of all, I work from a building connected to the Rockefeller Center Concourse, so I didn't even need to brave yesterday's rain to bust out my wallet! JT's response to my dressing room picture text: "I gasped. I can't even handle that." Some things never change! I, however, am loving the idea of pairing the top with some jorts and gold Navajo Jack Rogers to complete the look. Cancun (a.k.a. Cape Cod) here I come!

"I got it from my mama."

The second the temperatures drop to a balmy 60, I strive to stay outside as much as I can. So, naturally, the greater portion of my weekend was spend out of doors doing what we Brooklynites do best: bounce between neighborhoods. With ML in tow, I returned to DUMBO, and enjoyed a stroll over the bridge. Accompanying my prim and proper pal on her maiden voyage across the New York landmark, it was only natural that we walked flat into a girl about our age, who was enjoying the sun on her morning run, while singing along with her iPod at the top of her lungs. It's NYC, so NBD. We sing in public, too. But the lyric that graced our eardrums: a deafening proclamation that "[she] got it from [her] mama.". A-mazing.

And we really do sing in public. Case in point: since a stroll over the bridge always deserves a rewarding trip to Century 21, ML and I chimed in with back-up vocals to Britney Spears while getting hypnotized by, quite possibly, the softest sweatshirt that has graced the planet. And now our bods. Thank you, James Perse, and oh dios discounts!

A Victory for the Blondes

This is not a post about essay writing or feminism (while I truly enjoyed the former in college, I know nothing about the latter), but it is a post that will touch upon the topic of a paper I wrote as an English major with an insatiable appetite for alliteration (that I assume you know by now?). While studying Critical Theory at my dear Stonehill, I took a class with a polished and pop culture-savvy professor who let me write about Legally Blonde. And Clueless. And Barbie Dolls. And Paris Hilton. The common link of the aforementioned? Sun-kissed strands. So, in my brunette glory, I wrote a twelve-page, semiotic analysis on the cultural significance of blondness in the media. But instead of bashing Hollywood and Mattel’s famous and flaxen sisters (I think that alliterative line just might be straight from said paper) for their stereotypical ditziness, I applauded them. Look at my idol, Elle Woods! It’s her blondness that took her to the top! While I have no plans to take the plunge and "go blonde," I have mad, mad love for my lighter-haired sisters, especially the one actually related to me. Damn, does she have perfect hair! How cute were we?! Love you long time, AR!I’m not exactly sure what my exact point was with that trip down academic lane, but I think it had something to do with my most recent nighttime read: a collection of critical essays on Sex and the City. Alas, the English nerd never sleeps—which is semi-true, because this book is so friggin' great, I've been sacrificing sleep to read "just one more page!"

Love and let's go Rangers,
KR

Belated...

A little late... but here's a fabulous shot from my birthday pre-game! Note that this was taken after I changed out of The Leopard Dress.

Oh yes. That dress. The dress I wore while parading around as a pouf-sporting Snooki on Halloween. I couldn't decide what to wear, so I curled my 'do while rocking the ferocious frock, and changed out of the animalistic attire before my gorgeous guests arrived. Clockwise from the blonde: JT, KR (me!), AC, [the other] KR, ML, AD (the roommate!) and MS. What cuties!

Let's just say I enjoyed my birthday a bit more than Ms. Frankel did during Monday's Bethenny Ever After. Sister's unstable, I tell ya!

Lusting for Clusters (& Kings County)

For some lovely ladies, the idea of "setting up home" brings enough joy to last a lifetime. I experience such a feeling while gazing lovingly at my multi-tiered shoe rack--a transient joy, however, as I'm quickly reminded that my double-digit Reva collection could have been a solid start to a studio apartment down payment. But I digress. As you can see, setting up home doesn't put fire in my belly. However, after three bare-walled months in my Brooklyn bachelorette pad, it was time to trek to Target (pronunced tar-jjay, obvi) and pop some personality onto the plaster.

Always a fan of clustering, I framed a collection of colorful shots from my travels abroad above my bed, a trio of floral photographs beside my doorway, a hodge-podge of friends and scenery atop my dresser, and a trio in tribute to NYC above my bookshelf. While there's no real rhyme or reason to my hanging art, the room looks tres, tres chic! Once my new bed frame comes in, my boudoir will be complete. Maybe that will teach me to make my bed every morning...In terms of weekend updates, my vida lacked loca, which is probably a good thing. I did, however, enjoy Sunday's balmy temps with a walk through DUMBO, the neighborhood home to my first--and might I say quite cultural--internship back in 2007. Now, it's home to Sartorialist-magnet Olivia Palermo, a plethora of snapping photogs, several small boutiques and the coolest looking Mexican restaurant I've ever seen on this side of the Mississippi (I've been to Arizona, and the Guadalajara Grill's authenticity, coupled with its literal proximity to the border, wins out on this one).
These photos, snapped essentially from my backyard, are just a few reasons why I celebrate my 718 snobbiness: honestly, with this view as an option, it boggles my mind to know there are yuppies out there who consider a Murray Hill address the be-all and end-all of their twenty-something existence.

Brooklyn 4eva,
KR