Filed under Get-ups

dalaga

Last week, a gaggle of lady friends and I made our way to the opening of the second Dalaga boutique, this one in Soho. Dalaga, owned and beautifully edited by Filipina sisters Michelle and Mary Mangiliman, has been a mainstay boutique in Greenpoint for Brooklynite lovelies on the hunt for affordable pretty lady frocks, edgy jewelry, shoes and accessories for about six years.

The first time I stepped foot inside the adorable shop when I moved to New York, I gasped with glee, eyes alight with the magical wardrobe possibilities… It also made me reminisce to my own childhood, and the significance of  ’dalaga’. The Mangilimans describe the term to mean “a young woman in her prime,” but I often have a hard time expressing what it means to others, as the feelings and hazy memories attached to the word get easily lost in translation. As a young Filipina coming of age, being referred to as ‘dalaga’ provoked an almost inexplicable feeling of simultaneous blushful embarrassment and flattered euphoria. Dalagas were who little girls looked up to with awe at their grace, confidence and 2.5-inch heels, who represented what they could someday become. And at a certain point in your life, you became pretty damn proud upon entrance into that very realm.

A wonderful feeling and salute to a warm and loving heritage. Thanks for reminding me of that, ladies, and for sharing your charming treasure trove with a new audience!

Top four photos from Dalaga’s Instagram feed/Tumblr

With Kristin outside the Soho boutique
Photo: Ernie Peña

Check out the Ark & Co. blouse I scored at the opening!
Also, Jovovich-Hawk dress, Jeffrey Campbell shoes, vintage necklace

Ark & Co. blouse

((Zola Jesus – Skin))

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…miami nice

Towards the end of last week, husband-face and I enjoyed some ridiculously restoring, fruity-potable-laden beach/spa/glutton timez in Miami Beach, Florida. To our colossal astonishment, we fell in [conditional] love with it! Much of this probably has to do with the fact that there were zero events/slash/festivals going on, we lucked out with perfect perfection weather-wise, and we stayed at the most relaxing of accommodations, The Standard Spa. Miami’s rendition of The Standard now ranks highly on the list of favorite places that we’ve reposed, inasmuch as it felt like some bizarre, intimate island commune where everyone strolls about in their swimwear and bathrobes, with the requisite ‘friendship bracelets’ as admission to the pool area and Hammam baths (I’m still wearing mine a week later! hugs!). Also, pina coladas that taste healthy–in a good way! GO THERE, I command you…when in Miami.

Thus begins the picspam (cue escapist Moby track):

Ugh, right??

The beginning of a brilliant weekend

Obligatory foot-in-milieu photo, aka “the life”

I’m taking a {{mental vacation}} looking at these right now

Free People slip dress (x2), Topshop sandals (in fluro yellow)

Bayside

Getting rrrrrrripped…or something.
Forever21 shorts, Acne Strain sandals

Just one of the many colorful lifeguard stations that line the beach

Deco lovers paradise

(Gah, this is torture, I’m torturing myself)

Aritzia lace dress, tuleste market clog wedge sandals, Mat & Nat crossbody bag

Obligatory bathroom photo. Free People tee and scalloped shorts, gifted vintage necklace from B

We both made this face upon departure from The Standard

Squa?? Old-ish All Saints dress, Nine West sandals, makeshift flower crown from many tiny little Forever21 flower pins.

Norma Kamali cat-eye sunglasses, faux attitude

James Perse white jeans (srsly), American Apparel polo, Dear Creatures chambray blazer, Soludos espadrilles

The garden at Casa Tua, where the ‘skeeters ate me alive

Hitchcockian.

 My Lana Del Rey impression, complete with cheap beer (will never be good as this one, though)

((Moby  - Porcelain))

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miami vice

Having relax time in Miami. Excessive photo diary upon return!

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gothy birthday to you!

This week I’m a gal of a few words. I will leave you to puzzle over these photos from the gothy themed birthday party I threw for my beloved last weekend. He said it was one of the best birthdays ever. Duh. It was gothy.

Goth cookie cake! I made it!

Goths are such goofballs.

American Eagle eyelet corset top, UNIF Birkin crochet skirtEcote split suede wedges

Gothy babe in arms

Happy birthday!

<3<3<3 Bff’s Katja and Danielle. (Not pictured: Erika, ’cause she’s a vampire and can’t be photographed)

She just moved away :( DO NOT LIKE.

Bff’s. Ennui.

This post would not be complete without a kitteh.

((Future Bible Heroes – I’m a Vampire))

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31 candles

Yesterday, I turned 31. This definitely went over our lunch server’s head as she spent a full 1.75 minutes studying my driver’s license. Everlasting carding irritations aside, I had a simply glorious day and was happy as a crab (which I incidentally devoured 3X during my celebratory meal, as it is my favorite of all the foods).

Brian managed to keep dinner a surprise for weeks and, boy oh boy, did that surprise deliver. He took me to David Bouley’s Brushstrokefor a modern take on a Japanese kaiseki meal — nine courses of mind-blowing, party-in-my-mouth dishes. The ingredients used are incredibly fresh and seasonal, but this meal also elevates eating to a visual art form, with balanced decisions made based on flavors, textures and colors. I pretty much squealed with delight upon eyeing, and then consuming each new plate. The blonde wood and minimalist dining decor worked in perfect harmony with the feast, and I unwittingly put on a birthday dress fitting to the milieu that morning.

This is the face of 31.

I’m going to grow older and older with him.

We interrupt your regularly scheduled personal style programming for some food porn. Check out the candle holder made of radish.

Our cherry blossoms withered over the course of the 3-hour meal, which was, beautifully, the point. This is how I want to wither — with grace, not botox.

My favorite course — chawanmushi with dungeness crab (#1) and black truffle oil. Yeah, that tasted exactly as unsettlingly delicious as it sounds.

Crab course #2 (soft shell crab in tempura batter and sesame seeds atop a ramp puree)

Well, of course I had to make this face. I’m eating.

Birthday treats, with a side of sinister. A delightful finale.

Dark like my soul

Peach Zara frilled dress, Anthropologie ankle socks, tuleste market clog wedge sandals, vintage Coach stewardess bag

Husband’s birthday gift, via Dear Fieldbinder

So there we have it. I am officially past 30 and ‘in my thirties.” Inasmuch as 30 blew the decade before it clear out of the water, I’m pretty pumped to see what this one holds. If this surprise meal serves as any sort of metaphor for what may come, something tells me I’m in for something good.

((The Bird & the Bee – I’m into Something Good))

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hoppy happy easter!

Warm sun! Pastels! Cute, fuzzy animals! Alfresco dining! Fluros! Ramps! Birthday parties! Bare legs! Spring!

Let’s frolic!

Cat. Je te plumerai la tête, cat!

Easter bunny. Duh.

This fragrance still fills our home. Mmm hmm.

Blah blah vintage pussy bow blouse, Free People lace skort, old Bass shoes blah blah

Hippity…

[pause]

hoppity…

…makes for puzzled cat. Poor befuddled Audrey.

Happy April!!

((Mark Ronson & The Business Intl – Bang Bang Bang))

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poseur

Are you guys on Pose?

Le’s hang out!

Image

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district 12 digs

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Wilfred Marquis jacket via Aritzia, BDG jeans, Justin roper boots, Filson tote bag, I Adorn U bracelet and arrow earrings

Happy hunger games, everybody! After a couple years of impatient childlike anticipation, the day finally arrived! Persnickety critiques of minuscule book deviations and the lack of Battle Royale-esque violence aside, this movie (for me) delivered. The cast was pretty damn fantastic. Exception: Liam Hemsworth is veering dangerously close to Taylor Lautner (::shudder::) territory, but we’ll just have to give him the benefit of the doubt until installment #2. Overall, the spirit of the novel was beautifully captured, the cinematography breathtakingly bleak. And every Capitol scene was like one giant Dances of Vice shindig (hello, feast for the eyes!).

Like probably every other fan out there, I went in lightly Katniss inspired, sans side braid (as that is my lazy girl coif of choice). Opted instead for a clumsy, nest-y approximation of the prettiness in Madewell’s current Parisian[!] lookbook (yeah, yeah, it needs practice. I know this.) You know you all have some sort of utilitarian/workman inspired jive in your wardrobes, and it really does make the viewing experience that much more fun. And anything that empowers just a smidge of bad-assery in us all is a positive in my book.

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moveable feasting tunics

This post is painful to write. As in, physically painful, as it chronicles a weekly belly bomb jaunt. See, Brian and I operate on somewhat of an 80/20 rule for lifestyle nutrition, where we cut out bad carbs for the majority of the week (his willpower > mine), and pick a day a week for a balls-out carb blowout. I’m not posting here to condone or condemn anyone’s nutriment philosophies, but to merely discuss what we wear when feasting to camouflage food babies, and to somewhat heroically share with you some unflattering after-feast photos of myself (yeah, sorry). Indeed, this is probably my favorite day of the week, as I strategically brainstorm the most delicious scenarios days before our carb-up (I keep a running list). Stuffing our faces senselessly, mercilessly–it turns out–is really really fun. And then it’s followed by a graceless, meandering stroll–er, waddle and a vanquished collapse.

Carb-up day is serious, make no mistake about it

Mental preparation for food battle, with metal collar points

Bedrock to lay dessert upon: pimento grilled cheese (+fried chicken sammich, not pictured)


A decent approximation of what the carbed up eye spies

This weekend’s main attraction: sfinge, aka zeppole, an Italian confection available for a very limited time  once a year to commemorate St. Joseph’s Day. It’s basically a giant cream puff with cannoli-style pastry filling. This stuff is an explosion of yummy.

Yeah, that’s a cannoli on the side

Things are happening

My delicious nemesis

Defeated by sfinge

Zara tunic, ASOS Petite leather moto jacket, Old Hollywood Spearheads necklace, Tart leggings. Belly not included.

The willowy tunic and stretchy waisted bottoms (i.e. leggings) uniform is pretty much ideal for expanding bellies. And for my shorter sisters, especially, the tunic-that-functions-as-frock adds so much to a wardrobe, no? The above Tart leggings are some of the softest and most supple buttercream-on-my-legs ones I’ve ever worn. They’re also incredibly thin, so no leggings as pants blunders here — cover your bottoms, people!

What about you guys? Do you have go-to armor for days involving big eats? If you’ve got any ideas for incredible carb-ups in NYC, please share!

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empire state of mind

The winter-spring limbo has left me lethargic and uninspired and thus, I apologize for my weeklong radio silence. And thus, I give you nothing but weekend picspam.

But before we get to that, important things first! The uber-fancy musical e-card we received from our vet reminded me that Audrey is 2 today (give or take a few)! Birthday cat! Yay!

Onto the picspam. Now, this post’s title might not seem so readily fitting to the following photos, but this past weekend was a bright and friend-ful reminder of the pure joy dwelling in this marvelous city can bring. All of these little details may seem mundane to the casual observer, but they work to piece together evocative and often hazy (as in a handful of the pictures themselves) keepsakes for each of our personal NYC’s. My favorite NYC moments are the ones with a sense of hygge (introduced to me by bff Katja). It rhymes with googley, and is pretty aptly described on Flavorwire as “people, things, or surroundings that give a sense of joy and well-being. It is probably most closely related to cosy, with a little good cheer thrown in for extra warmth.” We had all elements this weekend: friends, Brooklyn bars with their soft Edison lighting, dinner parties, kittehs, cupcakes and ice cream. It’s the simple stuff dreamy memories are made of. And the stuff that refreshes how blessed we are to be here.

The Woody Allen corned beef-pastrami sandwich at America’s most famous deli, Carnegie Deli

This is my work friend Tani (the one in the middle). She’s one of the most positive, smiliest, cucumber-cool gals I know. You can check out her life musings at her blog Perspection.

Blue Ribbon fried chicken

Blue Ribbon fried chicken face

American Eagle cardigan, cheapie store blouse, Kova & T liquid leggings, vintage booties

Birthday boy

If any of this sounds ridiculous or ill of grammar, please excuse my DST brain. And be careful crossing the street this week, y’all. Springing forward be messing with our motor skills.

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