Genesis

I'm writing this post from Israel, my current favorite place in the world. I'm in the heart of the desert at a gorgeous hotel called Beresheet, which translates to "Genesis". Genesis is the first book in the five books of the Torah. Oh, you didn't realize this was Hebrew school😉? I've been coming to Israel alone for the past three summers. The first two times were for the bar mitzvahs of sons of dear friends. As I reflect back on the last couple years of my life, I am frankly amazed by what a changed person I've become. Prior to my first trip, I was petrified to get on a plane alone. It was just not something I'd ever done without my family. I did not think I could do it. Surely I'd get lost, my passport would go missing, my luggage would be sent to China, what would I do all by myself, who would I hang out with, I didn't know my way around, etc. I had been conditioned to believe I was a helpless moron who needed her hand held throughout life. Fast forward a couple years later, and this solo trip, the longest I'd ever taken, is a completely opposite experience. I feel brave, I feel in control, I feel resourceful. As I've often mentioned, I enjoy mass quantities of solitude. I'm a huge reader. Armed with a large stack of books, my DJ notebook to do homework (though that hasn't happened yet), and my headphones, I felt so ready to go off into the world by myself.

Israel was a good post divorce starting point. I speak Hebrew fairly fluently, and I have some friends here. I have a lot of family here too. In a Jewish country, there is an out the gate feeling of safety and familiarity. It's a country of Peeps. Despite that it's an actual war zone, there is a feeling of inherent security in Israel. Maybe it's because your waiter was likely a sniper in the army💪🏼. I am very proud of the fact that I can be absolutely anywhere myself as long as I can read and write, which I can. I never feel lonely when I'm alone. I never have. While most women seem to require the presence of others to go to the bathroom, I've just never been that person. That quality is serving me well now. The theater, movies, a restaurant, all thoroughly enjoyable by myself. It's actually often preferable, since I don't feel any pressure to make annoying chit chat. I speak very little, which purifies speech altogether. I kinda feel like I'm on one of those silent meditative retreats, a goal of mine at some point. Without the clutter of speech, idle chatter, and gossip, my mind is cleaner. Which in turn leaves me open to soak in my surroundings.

I love nature, and I have a deep appreciation for the elements. Having began my yoga and meditation journey a year ago, I am using all I've learned to powerfully breathe in where I am and who I am. Awareness is an encompassing phenomenon. If you have it in one area, you have it in other areas as well. Staring at the view of my room, which is a massive crater in the desert, I at once feel both powerful and humble. Strength and smallness. A balance of staunch individuality, yet the striking knowledge of being part of a whole entity. I'm so grateful I came on this trip knowing (somewhat) how to meditate and think this way. It's enhanced my time here tremendously. I've done it alone among sand dunes, as well as on a bustling, loud marina in Tel Aviv. When your own voice is loud, it drowns out whatever noise is around you. Though I took a couple of days to visit Beresheet in the Negev, most of my trip is on the beach in Tel Aviv. I am wild about this place. It's a hot, sweaty beach town with an electric nightlife. The energy here is palpable. Every day, I pack up a few essentials in a backpack, and wander around taking it all in. Then I park myself on a crowded beach. For several shekels, I rent a lounge chair and umbrella. Done. No fussing, no deliberating, no wasting time trying to "figure out what to do". I read until it's dark out. I eat all my meals on either the beachside restaurant or at one of the dozens places on the marina. I feel totally safe walking around at night here, something I'd never do at home. I can listen to the ocean forever. I love the sensation of my feet in the sand. I am endlessly amused listening to loud, aggressive Israeli banter. Israel is constantly at the risk of real, life threatening danger. So the people in this country make every minute count. They live fiercely. I fucking love it. At Beresheet, I was hit with the symbolic meaning of the place in direct correlation to my life. This is a new chapter for me, a new beginning. I am creating new storylines for myself. I'm evolving, growing, reaching further points of self actualization. That is my responsibility as a human being, out of gratitude to God for having created me in the first place. Once we are created, and we have begun, we never end. Yes, we die physically, hopefully after a very long time, but our spirits are infinite. We have beginnings, but we do not have ends. We are never finished. Things change shape and form, but they don't vanish. This is my belief, and believing that, even if there's no proof, enriches my life. For the same price, I may as well believe. For the same price, I may as well make the most of my time in this body. Beresheet. Genesis. In the beginning...

Listen to Brooklyn's Finest (feat. The Notorious B.I.G.) by JAY Z

I once overheard an elderly lady, whom I know,from Brooklyn say," I don't care for that Jay Z. He was a drug dealer". She was kinda upset when the Barclays center was built and "corrupted" Brooklyn, and Jay at the time was performing there like twice a week.
This is funny for many reasons. But if you think about the sentence "he was a drug dealer", and flip the meaning, yeah, he was indeed a drug dealer. And look at him now. Jay is an example of the ultimate American Dream, specifically the ultimate New York American Dream. To go from being a hustler in the projects, to being an absolute Titan in the entertainment world, is probably something not achievable in most parts of the world. To scratch and claw your way out of improbable circumstances and become a raging force of success, well, that's something we all can learn from. It's the epitome of believing in yourself, at letting no one or nowhere define your future but you. Get em, Jay. He's also a killer interview on Howard Stern. Another reason I love this song is because it features another massive rap god, and against all odds success story: Biggie Smalls. Listeningto the two of them flow here is like an injection of B12. I'm a Jersey girl, but have spent tons of time in Brooklyn my whole life. This song is an ode to Brooklyn. Allow me to feel some New Yawk pride 🙌🏻. I've actually just been discovering the awesome, cool as shit Brooklyn nightlife that I've been enviously hearing about for years. Let me tell you it's no exaggeration. I've had more fun there these past two months than I've had in possibly ever. Brooklyn is rad, that's why it's always been such a rich subject matter for films and music. I wonder if in busting rhymes about the pride of Brooklyn, they inadvertently left out my grandparents...

Construction Site

I'm fortunate to be doing some construction work on my home right now. My contractor is wonderful. This post is about him. I know that usually, the contractor/homeowner relationship is often contentious. Schedules run way behind, budgets balloon, frustrations build. This is understandable, since people generally don't like their lives interrupted.

These are clearly good problems to have, if you're lucky enough to

A) have a home

B) have one you can afford to fix up.

It is certainly atypical to not only adore your builder, but to write about him. My family has known AM for at least 8 years. He's old school Italian, wild about his family, and treats the homes he builds with the care of a mother taking care of her babies. He's a highly skilled pilot. He speaks multiple languages. His family is wonderful, and I've had the privilege of becoming close to all of them recently. It's very sweet; in the wake of my divorce, AM has assumed a fatherly, protective attitude towards me. I'm very appreciative. It's unusual when anyone absorbs another person's situation with such a full heart.

What inspired me to write this post was the renewed thought I've been giving to my home. When one enters a brand spanking new chapter in their life, they often see their familiar surroundings in a whole new light. This is certainly going on in my head. I mean, my life is now completely different, so it's natural for me too see many things with a fresh pair of eyes. I have a revived appreciation for many aspects of my life, especially my home. While what is going on inside the home has shifted and taken new shape, the house itself is obviously the same. This structure has been a constant in my life. There is great comfort in that. It is a safe haven when I need emotional and mental solace. It is a space that's mine. In the entire huge world, this is my tiny corner of it, and it was built by this incredible person. When I cook feeling love, the food is better. I imagine that since AM builds his homes with such love, love remains in the walls. Good energy keeps the floor boards together. Strength of spirit supports the beams. Solidity covers the skeleton, the bones of the house are never bare and lonely. Only a special individual can create this.

Last week I had a thought: when I cry, my tears are caught by the floors he built. When I burst out laughing, my laughter reverberates off his walls. When I put my children to sleep and crawl in their beds, it's in the rooms he made for them. When I open or close my front door, I'm greeting or exiting phases of my life.  When I cook, it's in his kitchen. The kitchen is the heartbeat of any home. That is the space in which I create, nourish, feed. I water the seeds that were planted long before I lived there. I pray many great things will occur within these walls; love, grandchildren, parties, holidays, milestones. To build someone a home is to give them a massive keepsake box, in which to fill up with all kinds of memories. That is a very big deal. When your heart is clear, it's easier to have awareness and appreciation for even the most seemingly mundane things.

"If you build it, they will come"... 🗝🏠❤️

Relaxed Glamour

I adore vintage. I love anything with a history. I prefer things a bit beat up and with a story, over a shiny, new , sterile something. That's actually a huge insight into my entire personality. I went through a years long phase where I only shopped in vintage stores. I pride myself on having the eye to zero in on a treasure among a heap of junk. It's an attention to detail. It means I pay attention to all that surrounds me, and gravitate towards what I love, despite that being less obvious to everyone else. I have always loved an underdog. I've never been attracted to men that are too handsome. I like quirks. I often hate the movie the critics loved. I won't wear a trend when it's in. It's not some sort of "fuck the man" agenda, it's just something I've come to learn about myself. I have often been told I'm "out of the box". This confuses me; well, what box are we talking about exactly ? People are meant to be complex, multi dimensional individuals with twists and turns. I'm certainly in the box of that. Perhaps if the box you're talking about is a flat, non faceted, boring invisible jail cell, then you're right, I'm proudly "out of that box". I've always taken it as a compliment, but feel sad that that's how most people I know define others. I have also heard that since I'm not in a box, people can't define me and don't know how to categorize me. This is insane. How small-minded does one have to be in order to have this incessant need to categorize others??? Dude, instead of trying to sum up everyone around you into three words or less, get your twice a week Pilates ass to a therapist.
 As always, I promise, Lady Blaga has a clear point.

Back to the lab again, yo. This vintage gown was maybe 100$. I bought it 14 years ago at a vintage store in my hood called Mint. It was love at first sight. I dressed exclusively back then in tons of color, which I no longer do. I think I only wore this twice, but kept it knowing it would serve me well. I imagine a 60's lady hosting a booze soaked lunch, cigarette holder in one hand, her lacquered beehive hairdo standing at attention. She is, of course, sleeping with her best friend's husband while her own is golfing at the club. Her friend kinda knows but will never bring it up. Suburban shit lurking beneath the gleaming surface. Everyone is very tan and hates each other. They gather once a week regardless. It's just what they've always done, and will continue to do. Very Edward Scissorhands, one of my favorite films of all time. Talk about boxes gone awry. I crave storylines like this. So I will make them up if I need to amuse myself, even if my starting point is a random dress.

I recently had this dress taken in, and the ruffled collar removed. Good tailoring can transform anything. It took me years to appreciate this, because I hate going to the tailor. Surrender, Peeps, it really helps. Fixing the dress instantly made it current. It's a classic tank cut on top, with a full sweeping bottom. It's clearly glam, and I've worn it with gold sandals to a black tie wedding, but my favorite way to wear it is with an unexpected flat or sneaker. You know I love contrast. It makes everything less serious. It's like when you mix sweet and spice in a recipe. All sweet is too much on your mouth. All spicy is also too much. Both elements are needed to achieve, as I always say, balance.

These backless Margiela sneakers are the coolest footwear for this Valley of the Dolls look. Totally "out of the box"🙌🏻.  Beauty feels ugly if it's not comfortable. Your smile is just not as wide if your energy is sucked up sucking in your tummy. Fact. I'm sure you can even attempt at making these sneaks yourself! Slip on sneakers, yes please🙋🏼.  The J Crew sleeveless denim vest adds the final relaxed, cool chic factor. Collar up. It's an unusual take on a blazer topping an outfit. This giant gold earring you've seen many times, since it's one of my faves. It's from Old Navy. I wear it everywhere. The right shade of gold can totes pass for expensive. Just choose wisely and you'll be good! Price means almost nothing. You cannot buy taste. So often pricey clothing looks cheesy and ridiculous, very trying too hard.  This look is proof of that. An entire glamorous outfit based of a hundred dollar dress I found in a pile on the floor. If you open your mind you can close your wallet a little bit, I swear. Shop creatively. Live interestingly. Just leave your BFF's hubby alone. That's not very nice, even if she's chasing after yours. L'chaim 🍷🍸⛳️🏌

Tequila Watermelon Delight

On a hot summer day there is nothing more refreshing than the mix of tequila and watermelon. 

Ingredients

1 quarter small/medium watermelon 

Lime 

Tequila 

Mint leaves for garnish

Directions

1. Cut up your watermelon pieces and pour into a blender (if you want a short cut you can pick up watermelon juice at your local juice store, but then we would recommend adding ice for consistency and more tequila so it doesn't get too diluted) 

2.  Add in the zest of a lime to the water melon

3. Add the juice of half a lime to the watermelon 

4. Pour in 6 oz (but remember, a little more never killed anyone) of ice cold tequila (again, add in a little ice, and a little more tequila, if tequila isn't cold) 

5. Blend until smooth 

6. Garnish with mint leaf 

Makes 4 servings 

Skirt Stake

 Stake your claim in Fashion Land. Ooh, there should totally be a board game like that ‼️ Picture Candy Land, but instead of sweets, there can be articles of clothes on the cards. Little Anna Wintour and Karl Lagerfeld figurines. If you get a "weight gain" card, you're ejected from the game. If Chanel begs to dress you, skip ahead ten spaces! If you do that stupid lemon juice and cayenne pepper cleanse before Fashion Week, advance one space for every day you've done it. This joke is endless 🍭🍥🍬...

Imagine giving this to your niece on Christmas or Hannukah. Child psychological nightmare 🙀. But I digress.

Week 2 of the bodysuit two ways , has us wearing still a skirt, yet a completely different style. This off white, feathered one is short and playful. I debated buying it. I wasn't sure if I looked like Bridal Party BigBird. So happy I got it! It's a fabulous party look. A two piece ensemble is such a fresh break from a classic cocktail dress. It's cooler since more thought is required. Yet, this great black Margiela bodysuit makes any outfit easy. Once it's snapped on, you can throw so much over it.

For synagogue, I just wear a black boyfriend cut blazer over it. I'll usually wear this long, silver pendant I love. I referenced that piece in one of my previous posts about handmade Yemenite jewelry from Israel. And long silver or pewter tone will work here. It's softer than gold, and there's such a softness to the skirt due to the color and feathery detail. This can be worn with heels or cool flats, just like the first skirt look. But an uncomplicated shoe; none of that gladiator nonsense here. Don't compete with the skirt. Let the outfit breathe.

Bonus bodysuit look 3: stand in front of a floor length mirror, put on black stilettos, pouf your hair up. Put on "Single Ladies". Let shit get real with that choreography. Not that I've ever actually done that before 🙈🎤👠💋💄. 

Live large, Ladies. Life is too short. We must keep finding different ways to approach and enjoy our time here.

Petty Betty

I've gotta get into this here, the subject of extreme pettiness. I live in a tight knit community. That has its pros and cons. Community as a concept is a complex thing. It should be a group of people joined together to support and sustain each other. When that is the case, the power of community is pure and strong. It feels like a safety net. There is no one that doesn't enjoy and take comfort in this feeling. However, so sadly, and way too often, there are members in the community who infect the bloodstream with their own nonsense. It's easier as an individual to try and combat people like this.

For instance, I just left today's yoga meditation and my mantra was,"stay intact, don't react". My mantras are never the same. What works for today may not be the right fit for tomorrow. They're all good, but instinctively my spirit knows what it needs to hear on a particular day, so it chooses for me. The spirit is never wrong, so when it lands on a certain mantra, everything feels aligned. The words click and I go with that. Today I needed a reminder to protect my energy, and not get nuts when someone upsets me. I can go from zero to sixty very fast. Rage is an interesting beast. It seduces you quickly, feels good, then abandons you, leaving you with shitty, residual plain old anger. It feels very good when I can let something bounce off me. I'm aiming for more of those kinds of reactions by working to change my "vasana"/patterns.

As a single individual trying to hold on to this concept, I'm more armed and ready when confronted with a lousy situation. However, a community is comprised of the masses, and the masses are generally unsuspecting. It's a throng of people who didn't have a mass conference call that morning to remind each other to "stay intact and not react". There is not always strength in numbers. That idea contradicts the concept of "quality over quantity". I much prefer the latter. I don't see a point to a large group of people who aren't necessarily very nice, and who don't treat each other well. I'd rather stay home alone than attend a party where all the guests are complaining about the food, badmouthing the hostess, whining about the music, and kvetching that they didn't want to go in the first place. Throwing a party is very hard work. It's expensive and time consuming. It is celebrating a certain important event. It is so sad to know that many of your guests are sitting there on your dime with nothing nice to say. It shouldn't be like that. When you select people to be a part of your life, if they really aren't happy for you, get rid of them. Don't invite bad energy and ill wishers. All my older friends have told me it's so liberating to reach the stage where you don't feel obligated by stupid community norms, and can only include those closest to you at your celebrations.

I've always been an older soul, and I've already reached that place. It feels right to be selectively welcoming into my family's life. It's all part of editing your life, which you are entitled to do. Not everyone has the same friends, not everyone needs the same guest list. Get over that.                                          A good friend is someone who both will laugh and cry with you with equal measure. They should wish to only laugh with you, but if they need to cry they will. Above all, a quality friend is one who DOES NOT MAKE YOUR LIFE ABOUT THEMSELVES. Yes, I'm shouting that. I am no dummy, and I'm writing this article in the first place so clearly I'm aware, but I'm always thrown when in the midst of tragedy, some people simply lack the ability to behave in an empathetic, selfless, adult manner. They just make everything about them, and taint the situation with their own pathetic insecurities and competitiveness. Who drove the most carpools, who made the most meals, why was SHE there visiting and I wasn't??. I honestly feel grateful and blessed I'm not wired this way. It's a curse. Talk about a fucked up vasana... That's why I don't see behavior like this coming; it takes one to know one, and thankfully I'm not one.

I recently posted on the Lady Blaga Instagram, this quote, "the weak will always attack the strong. Take it as a compliment and walk the hell away. " While I mean that so deeply, I need to remind myself of that all the time, hence today's aforementioned mantra. I often get very hurt and confused when someone goes after me in a community type of situation. I am well intentioned, want to help from a pure place of love and concern, and that should be enough for everyone. But sadly, it's not. There are diseased women (this epidemic is largely of the female nature) out there/in here, who are so incredibly small minded, that they instinctively need to push everyone else out of the way, and race to the finish line. But they don't even know why they're racing to begin with! Their utter lack of perspective and good intentions completely cloud the issue at hand. The sick, the dying, the dead, the in-firmed, all seem to take a backseat to whatever problem is going on inside themselves. To use the misfortune of others to weasel your way into someone's pain, so you can pat yourself on the back "for helping" before your go to Target and the grocery store... What a sad, horrible way to live.

Some people almost sit and wait for the next bad thing to occur, just so that they will have a reason to feel useful. But the worst, THE WORST, is to be upset and rattled by the presence of those who belong there out of love. A word to the unwise; if you feel left out it is because you are left out. People know who to turn to when they are in the throes of joy, as well as in the throes of sadness. They just know. We want who we want when we want. If someone in the middle of an earthquake needs genuine love and support, how dare you focus on yourself. Maybe that's why no one called you🤔🤔🤔🤔. The evolved approach is to feel sympathy for those who are so emotionally blocked that they just can't put others first. I've known many women like this my whole life. The behaviors and patterns of those women became so familiar to me, I never even thought to observe them until more recently. But like the ugly, old chair in the corner that needs to be thrown out but has become an expected, normal sight, I got used to it. Now I feel like Sigourney Weaver in "Gorillas in the Mist". No disrespect to gorillas intended, they're rad.

As I've mentioned in other posts, I welcome all forms of clarity. It's observations like these that are helping me know who to keep away from. Block, delete, block, delete. Breathe. Smile. As far as the idea of taking it as a compliment when someone petty and weak will try to tear me down or show me up, I thank them for the praise. If my presence is so intimidating and threatening to you, then I must be one fierce force of strength and badassery. Be afraid, be very afraid. I am not going anywhere. Just like I promised , dear readers, you'll get honesty from me every time. And as I spit the truth, trust me, I'll remain intact. You know you loved every word of this, and I love that about you. Love, LB.

Libations by Lady Blaga

Happy Summer ☀️😎🍸🍷🍾‼️ We at Lady Blaga are thrilled to bring to you some liquid love to further enhance this most rad of seasons. We have teamed up with top Manhattan mixologist, Rob B, to come up with some specialty drinx. I must confess, I needed to outsource this, since I'm not really a drinker. I think most alcohol tastes like nail polish remover. My first hangover was at the age of 37. At the Western Wall. At a bar mitzvah at 7 am. Not ideal. I always drink the same at my maximum, about four cocktails. Sometimes I'm unaffected, sometimes I'm dancing with a lampshade on my head. I can't gauge my reaction. I'm a funny drunk though, not a mean one, so I've been told. It's Jessie dialed up a thousand notches. Rob, a dapper Man About Town, whipped up the following recipes out of his perfectly tailored, probably plaid back pocket. Cheers! L'chaim! You're all so beautiful, and I say that without beer goggles🍻🍻. Drink up, calm down, and keep cruising.

 

 

Pineapple Infused Mojito:

On a warm summer evening, this drink checks all the boxes. Makes 1 pitcher.

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Ingredients:

• Rum
• Pineapple 
• Blackberries 
• Sugar 
• Club soda

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directions 

1. Pour 16 oz of rum in a jar

2. Cut up 8 slices of pineapple and add to jar 

3. Store in fridge overnight 

4. Separate liquid from fruit

5. Finely chop pineapple and add to a pitcher 

6. Add 1 cup whole blackberries and muddle with the pineapple *add 3 tablespoons sugar for a sweeter cocktail 

7. Pour in the rum

8. Pour in 5 cups club soda

9. Stir and serve make sure to get fruit in every glass

10. optional basil leaf garnish