Time For Bread πŸ“πŸž

In keeping with the Fall feelings swirling around us, it felt like a good time to bring back some old favorites of mine: harvest breads. This is still the time of year where the mom in us juuuust might still have a sliver of good intentions, and send our children off in the mornings with a hearty, homemade breakfast. Ya know, before the non mom in us starts to not give a shit, and we just throw Apple Jacks at them as they dash out the door. PreachπŸ™ŒπŸ».

The first of this three part bread series is a one bowl wonder for Strawberry BreadπŸ“πŸž. I haven't made this in years, and I forgot how delicious and easy it is. It contains some whole wheat flour which gives it a healthy flavor. It really is the perfect hybrid of a bread and a muffin. While strawberries are considered more of a Spring/Summer gem, this bread is the perfect way to use them this time of year. By marinating the berries in sugar, thereby drawing out the juices for maximum sweetness, we can prolong their shelf life. If your berries are indeed lacking in flavor, toss them with the sugar a day ahead. This will increase flavor for sure.

Ingredients:

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  • One and a half cup sliced strawberries
  • 1 cup sugar divided
  • 2eggs
  • 1 stick melted butter or margarine
  • 3/4 cup EACH white and whole wheat flour
  • Half tsp baking soda
  • Quarter tsp salt
  • 1 1/2 tsp cinnamon
  • 1/2 tsp ground cloves
  • Optional half cup chopped walnuts
  • Optional granola to put on top, say a third of a cup.

Β 

Directions:

  • Toss berries with half cup of the sugar. Let sit room temp at least an hour to overnight.
  • In a large bowl beat the eggs. Add melted butter and the fantastic pink syrup from the berries.
  • Then add the dry ingredients, stir well but gently. Carefully fold in berries and nuts.
  • Spread batter into a greased and floured loaf pan. Top with granola if desired. Bake in a 350 oven for 50 min or until a tester is clean.
  • Cool on a wire rack in pan at least 30 min before flipping over. Slice and enjoy!

Β 

You can freeze slices in plastic wrap and put inside school lunches the night before or morning of. It alleviates some of the guilt at getting right back into bed to watch a Bravo marathon. Oh please, who are we kidding?? We stopped feeling guilty years agoπŸ˜‰. Older is wiser.

❀️, the 🐝

Kimono Karma

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Good karma is essential in life. When we feel good, we send those good vibes into the atmosphere. It will always return. We as humans are given great capacity to both give and receive. We receive on the Left, then send back with the Right.

Fun fact: When we are comfortable our moods are instantly better. Comfort yields happiness which yields us being a helluva lot nicer to those in our midst. Lady Blaga in a too tight anything makes for one pissed off, sausage encased woman. If I'm not feeling nice to myself, I've got nothing to recycle for anyone else. Bottom line, comfort is key.

One of the most wonderful trends in fashion is the whole pajama as outerwear concept. I've always loved this. It's the height of confidence and chic. This is a scenario where sleepwalking is most encouragedπŸ’€πŸ’€πŸ’€β€ΌοΈ. This yummy, bright kimono is from the Bloomingdales nightwear section. I love pairing it with any sort of denim bottom. I'll usually go with bell bottoms, wedge shoes, and pile on the jewelry for a hippie vibe.

Here, since it was midsummer, I went with denim cut offs, a simple white tank, and little distressed cowboy booties. A braid of some sort makes complete sense. I always feel like a million bucks in this piece; it's just so pretty and effortless. It's also lovely to actually wear inside your home as well. Multiple usage is optimal. I have another longer kimono that is looser without its own belt, so I'll add my own and just blouse it. If a little lace just happens to peek out, everyone's a winnerπŸ˜‰.

Pay attention to your moods when you get dressed. You'll notice that when your clothing embraces you rather than suffocates you, you're like πŸ‘πŸ». You'll get through your day/night/meeting/event feeling svelte and smiley πŸ˜€. Whereas the chick in the spanx and bandeau dress just arrived with a black cloud as her date. No thanks.

Hey, if we can't get the recommended eight hours of sleep at night, we've gotta try for them any way we can. Daydreams are beautifulπŸ€—πŸ˜΄πŸ‘˜. Love always, Lady Bed πŸ›Œ

Drop Em In the Pot (say to the tune of Drop Em Like It's Hot)

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There's something about this classic that is always so reliably comforting. Making these meatballs is my Mamma Mia moment. I feel like an Italian Bubbie with my hands buried in a bowl of these ingredients. I love kicking it old school with this JESScipe. It's fairly similar to my previous bolognese recipe. This drives me crazy since my son, who loves the sauce version, refuses to try the ball one. You can hear my cries of, "but it tastes the same!" a mile away. I'm hoping one day he will JUST TRY IT. Sigh...kids...

I can say that one of the secrets to not getting annoyed with the ball shaping process (yeah, I knowπŸ˜‰) when you're hands get sticky throughout, is to keep a bowl of water next to your mixing station. Wet hands make for a smooth, easy rolling of the meat. Dry hands make the meat sticky and fall apart, before you've even had a chance to drop them in the pot. I need to wet my hands after three or four balls(😳). My eldest daughter loves this dinner. It's so cute when she comes off the school bus, so excited to sit down to this after a long day.


Prepare your favorite pasta, rice, or other grain according to package directions. I even use sautΓ©ed zucchini noodles for myself for a carb free version. I'll just sautΓ©e those in a couple of tbsp of olive oil, adding salt and pepper to taste. If the pan dries up and the zucchini sticks, deglaze with little amounts of vegetable broth (from a box) as needed. Zucchini is naturally a watery vegetable, so give it enough time to rest after, to let that water steam out and evaporate.

Ingredients:

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  • Meatballs : two pounds of your choice of ground beef, veal, chicken, or turkey.
  • Two large cans tomato sauce.
  • Two lightly beaten eggs
  • Two tbsp each garlic powder and paprika.
  • Two teaspoons cumin.
  • Quarter cup of finely ground breadcrumbs, to use only if your mixture seems too moist.
  • Two tsp Italian Seasoning.
  • A tbsp of room temp water.

Directions:

Heat the tomato sauce up in a large wide pot. Add a large bay leaf. I like to season the sauce itself with a generous sprinkling of garlic powder and dried basil. I use a wide pot to let the meatballs breathe as they simmer.

As the sauce comes to a low boil, mix all other ingredients, saving the breadcrumbs for last, using if needed. The bit of water ensures a softer meatball πŸ‘πŸΌ. Mix well, but not aggressively. Don't over mix, this will cause unwanted density. I learned this from Rocco Dispirito, who, as a side note,is pretty hot.

When the sauce starts to bubble, drop the meatballs in gently cover the pot, lower flame to a low medium simmer. Cook for about 40 minutes, gently stirring every dozen minutes or so.

Eat plain, with your chosen starch, or on a club roll as a delicious meatball sandwich. These freeze beautifully. I make a lot in advance and then pull them out as necessary. A small portion of three meatballs over an attractive grain such as Farro, also makes for a nice appetizer. Serve with a warmed up loaf of rustic bread, some red wine🍷, and I think you've got yourself a winner of a dinner. Btw, if anyone knows how I can get a reservation at Rao's, please let me know. I might have to join the mafiaπŸ€”(fine).

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Uncovering Hair

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Thinking pink! The bright, neon color of this party dress is cause for celebration πŸ‘›πŸŒ‚πŸ‘‘. A smooth, bold, clean burst of fun girlishness. I bought it a couple years ago and never wore it, since as I've mentioned in other posts, pink is definitely not my go to. However, just like I sometimes crave a gloomy, cloudy day, it's also occasionally nice to to be awash in a bright pop of energetic color.

I adore these shoes; they look like a watercolor painting. Giuseppe Zanotti shoes are more comfortable for me than most other heels. It's easier to be in a party mood when you don't feel the need to amputate your feet. There's actually never a party I don't bring sneakers or flip flops to. I love to dance, and just can't do it in heels. I always have a diaper bag of sneakers and socks to change into, even if it's a black tie event. Treating your feet well and enjoying the rhythm of your body is cause enough for celebration. Every woman groans in envy, and I always think; at what point did it become mandatory for women to have to balance on foot long needles in order to look good?? Don't get me started on laser hair removal, which I'm convinced was started by Dr. Mengele during his wild experimental days during the Holocaust. I mean, I do it, but there's no question it should have been a medieval torture tactic. Sigh; chicks, Man. Still, I'd rather be a girl and have methods and tricks for how to look nice. Men just get to change their ties and socks πŸ‘”,and no one really cares. I seriously always felt bad if a guy had rings under his eyes, a zit, or a gut, and it's deemed socially unacceptable for them to do something about it.

Everyone should have the gift of illusion. When I'm not loving what I see in the mirror, it calls for some other kind of smoke and mirrors. Up to the situation on my head. This is one of my all time fave accessories, duh. It's a straw headband from Magnetic Midnight. I had to own this, for obvious reasons! Bright, beautiful, and super bold; this creation belonged on my head. It fulfilled the fantasy I didn't know I had, of auditioning for "The King And I ". Or, attending Carnival in Rio. This piece is so fun and majestic.

The mood has got to match it; no sourpuss vibes here, or you'd look ridiculous. When I was married, I wore this to "cover my hair" at the Western Wall once. The point of this is to achieve modesty and symbolize your married status. Um... You wanna take this one or should I? Me? Ok, fine.

First, there is clearly nothing modest about this piece, which is why I like it. It screams "LOOK AT ME NOW OR ELSE‼️". So often, all these tulle, feathery concoctions that have landed on the heads of women in synagogue are the opposite of modest and demure. Believe me, I don't care, it's just an interesting social commentary...

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Second, I am not married anymore. Which I guess means that when I now wear this, perhaps it symbolizes divorce? Wouldn't that be funny, if all divorced women all of a sudden were issued specific outfit instructions? I never understood why in synagogue, that a tiny doily folded into eighths pinned to the back of a head, should mean a lady is in the married club. It's kinda mean, if you think about it from another perspective of "if he liked it than he should've put a ring on it"πŸ’πŸ‘’.

What if someone never met the right guy and was still single in middle age, and therefore not only doesn't have a husband but also no children? Or if a woman was just abandoned by her husband. Or widowed and therefore unattached. The need for so many lines drawn and all these categories can feel insensitive. I'm perfectly comfortable showing up to Shul with my bare head, and I'll keep wearing an accessory if I want to for no other reason than I like it. Having something on my head for an hour a week didn't make me feel more married, just like not having something makes me feel divorced. It's all a state of being in your head and heart. Yes, religion has many rules that I'm not changing, or looking to change. But that doesn't mean we can't observe and discuss.

It isn't fair that a woman's personal business is on display for the whole congregation to witness and evaluate. People have pain and complications in their lives. A place of worship is meant to be a house of solace and comfort. I imagine it's very difficult for some people to show up and feel so exposed and visible. Prayer is a highly private endeavor. I know many married women who don't seem happy. A hat doesn't cover that up. Just like there are single women who are perfectly comfortable with their lives. Being single or divorced in the orthodox community has such a condescending, terrible stigma. It's undeserved. It does not mean we are broken people. It does not mean our children will be messed up. In fact, I'm certain that my kids are wonderful, kind, and well adjusted. My not wearing a doily doesn't change the fact that they have two loving, devoted parents who are working together to raise them well.  The goal of Jewish adulthood is to get married and have children. Reproduction to contribute to the population. Otherwise known as "family".  I said "family" I didn't say "partnership"....

What happens after synagogue when the fascinator comes off? It's seems like it's an illusion of security, which is dangerous. Covering up is a very slippery slope for humans. Little acts of external covering most likely leads to internal closing up as well. In high school, I wasn't allowed to take a final exam because it was 95 degrees outside so I didn't wear socks, therefore exposing my ankles. I assumed my floor length skirt would be sufficient, but alas it was not. I just can't see how this could be healthy; to transmit to anyone that the sight of an ankle is a bad, problematic thing. Didn't God give us those ankles? They're not sexual, they're actually bumpy and the bones protrude. Listen, I'm not saying buck the system. Places are entitled to their own ways of doing things. If a synagogue has rules, and we elect to attend, we must respect our environment. That being said, we must also wake up and be aware of what we are doing and why. If people center their lives around religion and don't give it much thought other than robotic movements, then what's the point? It can't enrich our lives that way. The more we connect to our actions, the more they'll resonate in our hearts. But there should be an increased level of sensitivity as far as the whole head covering.

Chicks shouldn't be singled out for being single.

Nothing good comes of that. It poisons the well of thinking in our daughters. The goal isn't a headband. The goal is love, truth, and contribution. Married or not, everyone can add to that intention. Even as a child, I was always the vocal one sticking up for my friends. Yapping on about schoolyard injustice. I write this not for myself. I'm very content with my station on life, and my ex and I indeed have a solid partnership that has been poured into the foundations of our lives. I say this because no one should ever walk into a Shul and feel unworthy, unwanted, and subpar. Bottom line, I love this freaking headpiece. I will wear it alone. I will wear it married. It covers nothing, nor would I want it to. It sits on top of a head that is filled with thoughts, questions, and ideas. Ain't nothing to hide about that.
Β 

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Denim Squared

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You can never go wrong with any of the few pieces seen here. A faded wash denim button down, distressed denim cut offs, turquoise jewelry, and a broken in cowboy boot. Extra points for the boots being mini!

I love exaggerated scale, be it maxi or mini. These cute little Isabel Marant booties never fail. Denim on denim has been featured a ton over the past couple years. It's such a cool way of pairing a jean and classic button down. It can give off the illusion of a jumpsuit sometimes. The little rope belt gives just the right dose of detail in the middle of the two denims. It literally ties everything together.

This outfit is such a cool weekday move. It's very American girl next door while owning itself completely. Hey, Pal, YOU live next door to ME! The loose braid was the stroke of genius by my hair stylist, Danny. I haven't had a French braid since I was in camp as a kid, and I loved how this came out. So pretty and fresh. A relaxed braid worked well with the whole concept of structured yet relaxed. Double denim produces the singular result of πŸ‘πŸ»πŸ‘πŸ»πŸ‘πŸ»every time.

One tip; just make sure your different denims don't compete against each other. I can't put this into words but you'll know when you see it in the mirror. They should be different but somehow complimentary. Don't stress, it's not rocket scienceπŸš€. Denim x denim =good times.

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Nude Mood

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This look is a departure from my usual. It's way more feminine and sweet than how I normally dress. It was nice to step out of my comfort zone. I was instantly drawn to the pale peachy nude hue, as well as the sheerness. It caught my eye at the start of summer, which is the perfect time to manipulate consumers into purchasing stuff like this😜.

I wanted whatever this dress was emanating. It's actually a romper. Bathroom endeavors a bit more challenging, but such is the sacrifice for looking nice sometimes. The piece is by Zimmerman. Anything I've ever had from them over the years has served me well. This is a one piece look. I usually find dressing like that a bit lazy, and I love to pile on my random jewelry, but it was sure swell to just be super girly in this dress. Nude Jimmy Choo shoes to complement. That's basically it. This is a beautiful summer date night ensemble. I mean, I can't prove that theory yet, but I will next summer😹.

Dainty yet statement sunglasses are the only needed accessory, except a pretty neutral feminine purse. These glasses are Miu Mui. Anything lady like goes, stay away from sporty today. I also like the berry lip here. I normally prefer a more nude lip, but that would be too monochromatic and rehearsed looking. If you are a girl, or not but like dressing like one, I highly recommend owning something like this. Ooze with womanhood once in awhile. You earned it.

❀️, LB

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Yo, DJ, Pump This Party πŸ“€πŸ“€

I know I haven't written about this in awhile, but rest assured I'm still in DJ school. I think I have a harder time writing about it because it's so incredibly important to me. Out of everything I'm currently doing, and out of everything I'm going to do, this is really my dream. All roads for me lead to standing in a corner in a little club/ bar in Brooklyn, just playing music that is meaningful to me. Showing people a good time, making them move, making them feel. Helping them leave their lives at the door, and just release into lyrics and melody.

I get so lost in my music, whether I'm working out, cooking, or standing on a line. I can be in traffic forever (except if I have to go to the bathroom😝) as long as I can hear music I love. My headphones instantly create an invisible force field around me. I feel all tension in my body melt. Being a giving natured person who has tapped into her need and love to share, it makes perfect sense that I'd want to give others the same musical experience.

A DJ friend of mine recently told me that sometimes after a gig, people will just come up to him and hug him. I GET THAT COMPLETELY. Music is one of the most visceral, honest gifts we have in the world. It has the power to unite people across the globe, in all walks of life. Music doesn't judge. It cares not about your emotional issues, your weight, or your financial status. It loves you and will hold you up if you are dying, or have suicidal thoughts. It sheps nachas as you kiss someone for the first time. It memorializes and celebrates your life throughout every single moment. It's there for you if you are deaf. Through heavy beats and sign language, it finds its way into your body, though maybe not your ears. It pumps us up and calms us down. I could not live without it. Could not.

Like all things that excite me, my love for a heavy beat and a brilliant, or even just an honest, lyric are meant to be transmitted. A great DJ has the ability to heal and spread joy. Oh man, I can't wait for that. I won't care whether or not two people are listening, or two hundred. If I feel what I'm playing, then I will go to bed happy that night. I feel this way when I write. If I write something I'm proud of, then the process stops there. It doesn't matter how many hits, likes, or views it gets. It's gratifying enough putting out something of quality. If you shoot your arrow in the right direction with the right intention, it will land properly.

One of my favorite things about this particular journey is all the really nice people I've met at school. I see my instructors at Scratch every week. I love the encouraging, supportive, educational, and FUN vibe they consistently send me. It feels great how much they're rooting for me. IT IS HOW EVERYONE SHOULD TREAT EACH OTHER AT ALL TIMES. Recently I dragged SF, the Bert to my Ernie, clubbing in Crown Heights and Williamsburg, Brooklyn. Um, we came home at 6:30 am. It was wild. We felt like Thelma and Louise, minus the part about killing someone and covering it up. There's always next time!

We went to see a couple of Scratch DJs play in different venues, unintentionally meeting up with other fun DJ peeps who I know from school. The music was insane. Rogue, Noumenon, and Esquire are wizards! Everyone we met was so nice, so chill, so cool. No one was dressed up. No one had a shred of pretense. Just people out to have a good time. Living in a homogenous neighborhood can really bring one down. It feels stale and stifled. It can be a hard place to live, which is why I've retreated so much, burying myself in my true friends, my family, and my passions. Many DJs I've spoken to claim to be very antisocial. Despite performing in public spaces, it's a very solitary endeavor. You've got to be super focused, on your toes, aware of the crowd, and exact with counting beats. No wonder they loathe requests! By the way, loathe. Don't. Do. It. They'll put a hex on you. You live in the music, which lives in your head. When I'm interrupted while listening to something, it drives me crazy. It feels so invasive. It's like someone barging in on you while you're getting undressed.

A few months ago, I went alone to an event at my school. Different guest DJs were spinning. It was a room full of all kinds of people standing on common ground. We all knew why the other was there. Friends, strangers, colleagues, students, battle champs, it didn't matter. Everyone just showed up to hear, learn, and teach. I realized I was happier in that room full of strangers than I'd be if I was at a bar mitzvah knowing every person there. Just because someone knows you, it doesn't mean they recognize you. It was wonderful and unfamiliar to be in an environment of creativity and encouragement.

I'm 39 years old. It's crazy it took this long to experience. It shouldn't be that way. This is how things should be all the time, and I felt a bit sad that I've never lived within that. I simultaneously felt grateful that I finally had this revelation. From that moment on, I decided it's that or solitude. I like myself way too much to feel I'm surrounded by the wrong people. I always say I enjoy my own company, and I do. I don't need people as white noise. Silence is so beautiful. It's underrated. I'm not afraid of my own thoughts, I can be alone with them. And eventually, I will play them for you, and we will connect while most likely never exchanging a word. Music, like love, is universal. Sing in the shower today, or in your car. Dance while you cook. Bust a move in front of your bathroom mirror. Send a friend a song you love, like I do every week on this blog. If you listen closely, you'll feel me saying something. Just no requests please, it's super annoying. In the words of Jay Z, "If y'all got love for me,I got love for y'all. And if y'all go to war for me, I'll go to war with y'all". Oh, and watch The Defiant Ones on HBO. Tonight. πŸ“€πŸŽ§πŸŽΌβ€οΈ, LB

French Toast? OUI ‼️

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You may not like the French, but I'm assuming you like French toast. If not, you're crazy.

Many a New Jersey teenage night was spent in a chrome diner booth, eating this with my friends after a movie. In West Orange NJ, this was literally the highlight of my otherwise bleak week. I can't believe it took Dr. Atkins to point out that THIS IS A MAJOR CARB. My mother used to say with conviction, "It's not the bagel, it's what you put on the bagel." So I'd eat ten plain bagels, thinking I was doing myself a favor, especially if it was "whole wheat". Same philosophy with pasta; marinara sauce, no problemπŸβ€ΌοΈ. It was a vegetable, since it's tomato based. I felt vastly superior to anyone eating fettuccini Alfredo or a bagel and cream cheese. Atkins must have seen a nation of thick people such as myself, and thought Jackpotβ€Ό. This was gonna be easy. Truthfully, I'm deeply grateful to him because his food philosophy of essentially no carbs, does seem to work for me overall. Believe me, I indulge but with awareness. The carbs I do choose are carefully selected and portioned. I'm not blessed with a naturally speedy metabolism, and have never been one of those annoying bitches who can eat what they wanted. The little carb thing jives with my bod. When I was recently in Italy, I basically wore a t shirt that said "Dr Atkins can F himself", since I was on a diet of pizza and pastaπŸπŸ•.

Actually, that Is a t-shirt I'd totally buy in real life. I'd laugh if I saw it on someone else. I know in most other parts of the world, the Atkins philosophy is looked down upon, but in the Tri State area it's alive and well. Maybe our carbs are loaded with more chemicals and therefore not easily digestible. Whatever the reason, this is where I live and I have to adjust to what's being sold on American supermarket shelves. It's no surprise that due to my French toast/bagel/pasta affinity in days of yore, that I was more than double the size I am now. I was never heavy, but the word "zaftig" would occasionally come up. That sounded like an insult; "voluptuous" felt like more of a euphemism. End result: yes, French toast is a delicious, fattening carbohydrate. It is a decadent treat that I will indulge in occasionally. This is hard when I make it every single week for my kids. I will sometimes sit next to them and stare creepily at them while they pick at it, willing them to wolf it down so I can partake vicariously. I have been known to lick the syrup off the plate at the end, so I can at least taste that part.

Believe it or not, motherhood isn't as glamorous as it seems. I do love making French toast, since I really enjoy using my griddle. I also feel like since it's made with eggs and milk, I can pat myself on the butt for giving them some calcium and protein😜. I started this weekly ritual when my kids went to a Jewish summer camp, that gave each child a large challah every Friday for Shabbat. The challahs would pile up, leaving me feeling like Lucy and Ethel in the bread episode. French toast was the solution to drowning in challah. Allow me to share:

 Ingredients:

  • A large chocolate chip, cinnamon , or vanilla crumb challah, cut into inch and a quarter slices.
  • Equal mixture of well beaten eggs and milk. I never measure, but try 6 eggs and a cup of milk, adding more if needed. The mixture should be a pale yellow.
  • A couple dashes of vanilla is the secret.

Directions:

Submerge each slice into the mixture until both sides are covered. Don't over saturate. Fry each side in melted butter until golden brown on each side. Cool on a wire rack to prevent sogginess. Top with syrup, whipped cream, powdered sugar, or fresh berries. I'm not really reinventing the wheel here, but when something is this good, we can respect the essence of the dish. 


PS; forget skim milk. No point. Go for the gold with the highest percentage you have on hand. Otherwise it's like ordering a Big Mac and a Diet Coke.

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The Chosen Ones πŸ€”

So we just finished Rosh Hashana, the Jewish New Year. My restructured family of six had a thoroughly enjoyable few days. It felt great to be back in my kitchen, making requested family favorites that I save for special occasions. Even though it was just us, I busted out my best china and silver. The flowers, food, and festive mood were all on point. Despite my wanderlust and large eyes for the world, I'm a true homebody at heart. There was great table talk, lots of Monopoly, focus on family, and synagogue. I have mentioned many times about my deep connection to synagogue and prayer. I was really looking forward to enjoying that dose of spirituality with my daughters (in our orthodox synagogue the men and women sit separately).

Growing up, synagogue on the High Holidays meant three hours of trapped boredom. You were not allowed to leave unless your bladder was bursting, and everyone's breath was terrible. Boredom would lead to gossip and chatter, which clearly was counterproductive to seeking a state of higher being. I, as well as my kids' dad, am much more chill with that. I believe in quality over quantity, so as long as we've showed up, communicated with God, and heard the shofar a few times, we can exit on a high note. We aren't the first nor the last to be there. I'd rather, as a parent, transmit a feeling of enjoyment for Shul , rather than a sense of entrapment. I want my kids to regard it as something they want to do. However as a child,  I learned how to sit and exist in a state of boredom, something most kids today simply don't know how to do. Being bored and un entertained is an important skill. Life does not owe us constant stimulation. Sometimes you just have to wait and be quiet, end of story.


Usually, when the Hebrew words in the prayer book don't grab me, or when I just want to learn the content from a different perspective, I read the English. For the first time, a lot of what I read was upsetting to me. First, the hundreds of pages devoted to guilt really struck me as tremendously manipulative and wrong. Fire and brimstone isn't loving or inviting. I love God, and I know God loves me, so please don't threaten me with the details of my impending, excruciating death in order to get me to comply. Who the heck wants to sit there reading that all morning? Having been conditioned to trust this as normal my whole life, I never paid attention. Judaism prides itself on being a religion where questions are encouraged, so I'm asking; why make religion about fear and guilt? I'm not asking to get answers, I'm asking just because there's no reason not to. I know the answer, and I'm certain it's the wrong approach. I want my kids to be good people because they know in their hearts it's the right way to be, not because they fear punishment.

Second, the amount of people in the synagogue on the High Holidays is famously quadrupled. This is not a comment on regular attendance; that's not of interest to me, nor is it my business. It's what it represents; we are taught that if you sneak in to this building before Yom Kippur is over, you juuuussstttt may make it into the Book Of Life. It's a loophole that is, once again, highly manipulative. It's like the teacher himself telling the students to not bother with studying all semester; just use the cliffs notes before the final and you'll pass. It all goes back to escaping illness and death. It's like a video game of how to outrun the Grim Reaper.                     

The content of the prayer book that really bothered me this year was all the mention of how Jews are the Chosen People, another notion I never questioned. I'm in the club, I felt special and superior to the rest of the world. Feeling that way is something to savor, not question. If you're fortunate to be born amongst the selected, shut up and go with it. As my eyes are opening up, taking my heart with it (perhaps it's the reverse), I'm increasingly uncomfortable with that idea. If God created every single person on earth, do we really believe He bothered with making MOST OF THE WORLD substandard?? That a tiny minority is truly better than everyone else? It's so elitist, snobby, and obnoxious. In yoga the knowledge that each one of us has the same beautiful, magical spirit feels so right. It's what connects us all. It's what makes each one of us a root in the tree of life. Learning this has given me such an increased gratitude for life. A dear friend of mine, who isn't Jewish, recently said, "you all live so sectioned off, and then wonder why most people don't like you". This person has many close Jewish friends. He said it from a place of love, not antagonism. It struck me in its correctness.

I was discussing the idea with my yoga teacher recently, how Jews are prohibited from getting tattooed. It will keep you out of a Jewish cemetery. I'd always felt I'd be the perfect candidate for a tattoo, since I love words and using the body for expression. However, I probably would have chosen something stupid that I'd regret later, so I'm not entirely sorry to have the threat of being separated from my children in eternity looming over me. Plus, no 75 year old woman looks hot with a tattoo. Men, of courseπŸ™„, seem to get away with it better. Quel surprise. I recall learning the reasoning behind this prohibition in high school. That since Jewish people are One, we can't do things that mark us as different from one another. I always liked this concept of unification. However, my teacher responded to that with, of course our bodies are all so clearly different; it's our souls and our spirits that are One. The exterior doesn't matter. The bodies are so temporary. What's INSIDE is what matters. This was so clear to me. I felt bathed with revelation, which is always a yummy feeling.

A friend of mine recently got a dog, after many years of thinking he'd never want one. He loves this pup. His wife, in telling me her husband's change of heart, said something so great. She recounted how in learning he loves his pet, he said,"it feels good to be wrong." I loved that, and I can relate so much. It indeed feels wonderful to be wrong because when we clear our heart of wrong, of untruths, we then make room for right and truth. Being open hearted and filling that space with other views, different thoughts, new experiences and understandings, is what makes us appreciative to be human. Which is why I no longer believe in the elitist Jewish club. Everyone is special, not just us. How can we teach genuine kindness to our kids and instill superiority simultaneously? It's contradictory. It isn't nice. And it's not respectful of God, to assume most of His creations will be left in the dust one day. See ya later, REST OF THE WORLD, the messiah only has room for US. I'm not comfortable with that anymore. It feels good to be wrong. I also always used to love the reverence of the service in which a small section of the congregation, descendants of the high priests, bless the rest of the community. This holy act is so serious, one must not glance upon the priests during the blessing. It occurred to me that this was even more exclusive still. That even amongst ourselves, we are dividing and deciding who is higher up on the totem pole. This was always my favorite part of the prayers. This year it turned me off. This is what I thought about during services this year; not begging and pleading that I don't get hit by a bus this year, or that lightening won't strike me if I "do something bad". Rather, I kept my palms turned upward, receiving newness. Not of a new year, but of a new day.

Every day signifies a new year, not just these two or three of the holiday. I contemplated the turns my life has taken, and how I'm ready for more. I thought about how proud I am of my family and it's unconventionality. Because after all, we are indeed the same inside. I gave myself over not to fear written in a book, but to my trust in God and His universe of support. The grounding in the ground, the limitless sky. The changing of the seasons that will soon occur. The flow of life. No punishment, just belief. It's a gentler approach. We need more softness in life. I love being Jewish, but I like being human even better. All of us were chosen to have our spirits catapult through space and timeand land on this planet for however many years. If you have ever lived, you have been chosen.  Best wishes for a happy and healthy life, The B 🐝                             

Sari not Sari

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A couple months back I wrote a post on my special meeting with my fashion queen Norma Kamali. After an exclusive interview and chat with Norma, she had a private sale of her fashion archives. The clothing at this sale consisted of major pieces spanning the Decades of Norma. The items were one of a kind.

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I felt so special being there, taking part in these chapters of fashion history. It was less about the clothes themselves, and more so about what Norma represents as a massive creative force in the world. She is a deeply giving woman in so many ways, aiming to share her ideas on a multitude of topics. Fashion, health, beauty, wellness, dance, philanthropy. She is an astonishing woman. She is a true champion of women worldwide.

One of the unique pieces I was lucky enough to secure, was a beautiful two piece Indian inspired Sari outfit. I've never owned anything like that. It was beyond sexy, a long sarong wrap skirt with a backless halter top. One day I'm certain I will have a special occasion to wear it to. Always buy what you love, the right event will reveal itself. Don't shop according to a formula. Buy things from the heart. Believe you'll one day have a place to wear it, and you will. I promise, life really does work that way. Just keep envisioning.

This outfit is a major celebration of the female form. Like all of Norma's designs, it highlights and encourages women and femininity. I swear I felt like I had magical Kardashian powers the instant I put it on. The va va voom factor was kickin. I rarely wear my hair up, but this felt so elegant, and highlighted the backless effect. What's great about a Kamali piece is that it's wear and go. Even the most glamorous stuff is so easily thrown on. After my hair and face looks right, my patience quota for actually getting dressed is full. I'm done at that point,and I just want to get out of my house. I'm either anxious to excitedly get somewhere, or anxious to get whatever it is the hell over with πŸ”«. For this alone, Norma deserves a thank you; the effortlessness in her designs is legit. So not sari I bought this gem! I'll let y'all know where I ultimately wind up wearing it. Stay tuned, Blagaphiles. Have a rocking week. Love, LB

Peach Blackberry Crumble

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Can someone let me know the diff between a crisp and a crumble??? I'll eat either so it doesn't really matter, but I'm curious. I loooove a good crumble. It makes me feel like I'm doing myself a dessert favor by eating a fruit based treat. It's just fruit, rightπŸ˜‰? It's vastly disappointing when you're at an event and are served a crumble with canned fruit. Ew! Fresh, seasonal fruits are what makes this. Apples or pears in the Fall and Winter, peaches, nectarines, and plums during Spring and SummerπŸŽπŸπŸ‘πŸ“πŸ’πŸ.

The topping is always the same. With the peaches etc you can use any fresh berries. I've used blackberries, raspberries, or blueberries. If using the plum variation I think I'd leave that alone. The berries contrast beautifully color wise with either white or yellow peaches. I'm not a cooked strawberry lover, but that's probably just as good if you are. I've seen recipes that call for boiling and skinning the peaches first. It took me years to realize that's the biggest pain in the πŸ‘, and completely unnecessary. Recipes aren't binding constitutions; make it work for you. Don't sacrifice flavor and presentation, but eliminate a step that will go undetected. Not skinning the fruit is a major time savor. No need to peel apples either, I like the skin. Your guests won't say, "I can't believe that lazy bitch didn't peel her apples". Anyone who does, can make like a tree and leave (thanks, Biff, from Back to the Future) πŸƒπŸŒ³.

I decided to make this JESScipe because I needed to find the perfect use for all the fresh fruit my kids and I picked at Alstede Farms in New Jersey. This is our favorite summer activity. Using our bounty felt good! What I love about taking them to the orchards, in addition to the obvious, is that it's a SCREEN FREE ACTIVITY, a rarity in today's times. It's wonderful to enjoy a wholesome, nature oriented pastime together. No beeps, buzzing, and hideous frozen face time expressions. Just sunshine, trees, and seasonal offerings. Ok, back to the crumble!

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This dessert is also so great because you serve it in the dish it's baked in, oven to table. Unless you want to then spoon it into individual serving ramekins or dishes, which is easy and lovely. Just do it carefully so the topping remains intact and on top. This is impressive and delicious either way. Go for it with vanilla ice cream on top if you wish.

Ingredients

  • A dozen firm peaches or apples.
  • Zest of one orange.
  • sugar.
  • Light brown sugar.
  • Flour.
  • Salt.
  • Cooking oats.
  • Pint of berries.

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Directions

Oven 350. Butter a large baking dish, about 9x13. Take a dozen large firm peaches or apples. If using plums I'd do maybe 16 since they're smaller. Slice the fruit and place in a large bowl. Add the zest of one orange🍊. In a pinch I've used a lemon πŸ‹and it was just fine.

Add a quarter cup each white sugar and packed light brown sugar. Then add two to three TBSP flour. Toss gently but well.

Then gently mix in a pint of berries. Let mixture sit for five minutes.

Put the fruit in the baking dish and smooth the top.

Mix one and a half cups flour, three quarters cup white sugar, and half cup of the brown sugar in a separate bowl. Add a quarter tsp salt, a cup and a half quick cooking oats, and half a pound of cold diced butter. Mix in a mixer with the paddle, or I use my hands. Mix well until the butter is pea sized and it all looks like a crumbly topping.

If you're using apples or pears, add half a teaspoon of cinnamon to both the fruit mixture and topping mixture. Put topping evenly over fruit. Berries should be evenly distributed throughout. 

Bake for an hour. Topping should be light brown. Your home will smell incredible; savor that! This is a great dessert to assemble in the morning and refrigerate, and bake as your company arrives. The scent will be most inviting and homey. If making this a day ahead, just refrigerate when completely cool and reheat before serving. Crumble or crisp, either way it will be gobbled up in a matter of yummy minutes.

🍴 PS: if using apples or pears, optional addition of half a cup each of raisins and walnuts. If that's your thang.

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Oreo Chic

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Out of all my new looks from this day's shoot, this was my fave. It's so different than my usual, in that it was so elegant. Still effortless, it took five minutes to put style, but I felt like Audrey Hepburn. I had never worn all these pieces together until I was futzing around in my closet, coming up with new ways to wear old stuff. This was spot on. This DKNY parachute skirt was easily one of my summer gems. Light, long, easy, feminine yet urban. The waist band cut me at the right spot, which served as a good springboard for the cropped white button down. I love how this shirt is the right mix of classic, chic, demure, yet sexy, showing just a smidgen of stomach. It's covered yet playfully revealing in a subtle way. Sometimes subtle is best!

My ubiquitous large scale Michael Kors belt is so often seen because it works with sooooo much. Lady Blaga is a mix master, if I do say so myself. I'd much rather reuse my stuff creatively than buy new. I'd much rather save my money and flex my styling muscle πŸ’ͺ🏼. It's amazing how many more outfits you have than you realize. Sometimes just relocating an item in your closet to another section, is enough to remind you of the uses for it. Fresh location, fresh visual, fresh ideas πŸ‘€. The Stella shoes are chunky, street, and give cool gravity to the volume of the skirt. Everything is black and white here. Chic and cool to the max. Don't F with a classic. Hair up, a departure for me, but I loved the clean, composed effect. If I actually had a meeting, I'd have slayed (instead I changed for carpool shortly after😹).

The ultimate accessory was this AVI medicine bag tote. Like a good old fashioned doc that pays house calls, this style bag is always a winner. It's structured and keeps all the crap in my purse in check. An outfit such as this which is based on structure, would look wrong with a slouchy cross body. Statement Prada sunnies needed to finish up the glam. This is an unfussy look, which is often needed to counteract the messiness of life. Listen, we can't always actually have our shit together. That's a fact. But, who says you can't look the part? Black, white, and right all over is a key component in any wardrobe. πŸŽΉπŸ—, LadyBlaga

Rice Salad

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Back to school, the seasons slowly showing signs of change, markets starting to sell pumpkins, all hints that Autumn is around the corner. I love living in a climate with four seasons. I'd go nuts if every day looked the same. Too much sunshine for me is like constant forced smiles and happiness. It's irritating. Sometimes you just need a good, cloudy dark day. Nothing should ever be homogenous all the time. Being aware of the seasons, and what each one has to offer us as humans inhabiting the planet, keeps us on our toes. We are responding to the elements though we usually aren't cognizant. Mother Nature holds us up whether or not we thank her, much like the symbolism in the classic children's book "The Giving Tree". Looking around us, taking a moment to pay attention to the changing leaves in all their jewel toned glory, breathing in crisp air, putting on a cozy sweater, these are all yummy, wholesome feelings. No iPad required! Good, old fashioned sensation. We can check our insta a hundred times a day, calculating likes, but it will never feel as satisfying as basking in a beautiful Fall morning. As the seasons naturally change, what we are driven to produce in the kitchen does as well. Recipes are seasonal, as they should be, celebrating what certain times of year have to offer us. It feels wonderful to capitalize on nature's offerings. I will never tire of a fresh Fall Martha Stewart magazine cover. The visual alone starts my culinary juices flowing.

This wild rice salad was made up on the spot, with stuff I had in my pantry. I know it's so annoying I keep saying that, but it's true. First off, I'd never lie. I'm way too emotional to be good at it. Granted, you can't see my face now to give anything away, but it's never been my style to be anything but blunt. Lol, so if you know me and my eyes are pointed towards the floor, chances are I'm attempting some form of rare bullshit. Second, I think I've proven I'm pretty darn capable in the kitchen. I've actually become quite good at inventing cool jesscipes with whatever my pantry is stocked with.

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Tzvia and I did a super last minute mini food shoot. As in, the night before our big Blaga Fashion Week pow wow. I had zero time to prepare, but found some solid ingredients in my often well stocked pantry. This wild rice salad was a fun challenge to put together. You've seen one hearty rice side, you've seen them all, right? This is a nice one. It's grainy, earthy, yet has a lovely unexpected sweetness because of the orange factor, grapes, and dried cranberries. Loved including the champagne vinegar! I rarely use it, and it was an Ah Ha moment. If there's anyplace to play around, it's your kitchen. If it's gross, just start again. No biggie. Unless you're married to one of those vacuum cleaner men who eat anything, in which case you're lucky.

A nice range of colors and textures liven up this basic starch. Eat color, feel color, see color. Always aim for technicolor in your life. Color is always here for us, we just need to bring it into our lives. Just like nature and love. πŸ‚πŸπŸƒπŸŒ»

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ingredients:

  • Dressing; third cup each olive oil and fresh squeezed orange juice.
  • One and a half oranges.
  • I tbsp each white wine vinegar and honey.
  • Half teaspoon kosher salt, quarter pepper.

Directions:

Whisk together vigorously. A cup of black wild rice cooked according to package directions. Mix with a cup each of halved green grapes, dried cranberries. Half cup each of chopped scallions, toasted slivered almonds, toasted coarse chopped pecans. Add the fresh zest of one orange to compliment the vinaigrette. Leave some zest, nuts, and scallions sprinkled on top. Let sit together for a half hour to an hour before serving at room temperature.  Enjoy!

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One Year Later

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It's the start of another Jewish new year. As I reflect back on the course my life has taken since last Rosh Hashana, I'm amazed. New Years are just that; an entire year of your life that can be brand spanking new. Most people live their whole lives doing the exact same thing all the time. One of my favorite IG quotes is "how dare you do the exact same thing for 75 years and call it a life". This can be hard to read, since it calls you out on your shit. I mean, with all the things out there to learn from and experience, there is no reason at all to not take advantage of the gift of a whole new life cycle. God is like, wake up people! He literally commanded us to use that shofar as an alarm clock. He even instructed us to listen to it a certain number of times to ensure we don't just keep hitting snooze. The shofar holds power, not the actual horn of the ram, that's magical thinking, but in what it symbolizes. Of all the nutty things Jews observe, this is one of the good ones. The piercing sound of anything causes us to stop and take note. An ambulance leads us to be momentarily grateful for our health. A police car causes us to pass judgement and take stock of our morality. A fire truck makes us feel relieved our home isn't in flames. Another kid crying or throwing a fit gives us a fleeting air of superiority ("my child doesn't act like that"πŸ™„).

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The shofar isn't meant to just jolt us two days out of the year. It has the message of "Dudes, feel this way every single day. PAY ATTENTION". You cannot make any sort of changes without first paying attention to what needs to be altered. Acknowledgement is first and foremost. Chances are, if your life is entirely linear and stagnant, there's something you aren't dealing with. It doesn't mean there needs to be a constant restructuring of one's life in drastic ways, but there is ALWAYS room for major improvement. We are never to stop going forward. Years bleeding into years is a red flag. People wishing each other a Shana Tovah, a Good Year. How does one define a good year? It's pointless to define "good" as "same", then people would wish each other a "same, uneventful year".  Good has got to mean really, truly good. Not that no one got sick or died and that you once again outran the Angel of Death, but that you maximized your time here. It's like that saying "everybody dies but not everybody lives". Drake sings that line on Nicki Minaj's "Moment for Life". It gets me every single time.

Last year, I prayed for certain things as we all did. I've watched in wonder as many of those things have come true. It's as if I'm watching my life in a film, as an objective observer. Its a fascinating and humbling thing to see your life take shape. It can't just be luck or Mazal, that's too haphazard. We accomplish only what we set into motion. Not with empty words once a year in synagogue, but with persistence and a clean heart. This morning in yoga, as tired as I was from holiday cooking (which I enjoyed so much), I wanted to mentally prepare for the New Year. I no longer place such emphasis on these dates on a calendar, since every single day is the start of your life all over again, but such is the nature of tradition. My thought in class was this; with each yoga position we change shape, take on new motions and physical and spiritual formations. We keep flowing, keep breathing, doing our best in that moment. We are so aquatic, and water never stops moving. As we take on new shapes, we learn that we will achieve newness no matter what. We are safe to keep going. We are more pliable than we give ourselves credit for. We are supported by air and earth. We are meant to move with the cycle of the atmosphere. The more we realize what's out there, the more exciting life becomes. Pray for new, be new, create new. Don't just rely on God to give it to you; He is very busy. He's given you all the tools. Let's get to work πŸ”§πŸ”¨πŸ”©πŸ”‘πŸšͺ

Lady Blaga attends Alice and Olivia

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So I fell down the rabbit hole at this show! That was a nod to Alice in Wonderland, for anyone who may think that animated characters are limited to that which resembles human excrement πŸ’©πŸ˜·. What was so cool about viewing this collection, was that it was a walk through, as opposed to a seated show. It was like walking through a costume exhibit at the MET, but the models would occasionally crack a smile or move. The music set the mood; DJ Mia Moretti spun 60's and 70's Rock. She herself was dressed to kill, as per usual. It's so important for music to be an essential part of seeing a collection. It was an instant vibe creator, which is what music is of course supposed to do. There were all these cool sets and backdrops where pairs or groups of models stood. It was anything from a turquoise and black staircase to a sexy bedroom scene. The clothes were super bright, shiny, metallic, very rock and roll. Many pieces would be applicable to several decades. Hot pinks, sequins, mint greens, and deep blues drew the eye in immediately.

Moving through the exhibit indeed felt very much like a dark, sexy fairy tale. There were walls covered in scrawled messages of female empowerment, which of course was the perfect backdrop for this selfie nation. No judgements, I did it too. There was an old school silk glam chaise lounge to drape yourself over. I felt like I'd stumbled into an after party for Led Zeppelin. It was the perfect marriage of fashion and rock n roll🀘🏻. I especially loved all the multicolored striped sequin work. My outfit choice happened to have worked perfect thematically, a happy accident. My Jazmin Chebar wildly patterned silk and leather dress, feels to me like I was rifling through Steven Tyler's closet. It's not vintage but it looks it. My electric blue tights popped my yellow open toed sandals. The tights were a last minute addition which were a game changer. Also, I didn't have to shave. On my head was my huge, wine colored ribbon headpiece, a favorite of mine for years. It's a modern take on Anne Boleyn. It literally elevates any outfit I wear, as in it adds half a foot of height. The royal blue Gucci clutch was, well, clutch. Everything in this look was strong, deeply hued, but no piece was obnoxious. They all stood on their own, but worked together here. Sometimes you need one bold focus, but for Fashion Week you gotta be bold all over. In the right way of course. This show was indeed full of whimsy and wonder. Now "Drink Me".

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photography credit- alexandra gorgon @atg_photo

photography credit- alexandra gorgon @atg_photo

Lady Blaga attends Leanne Marshall

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FAVE!!!! This show knocked my Spanx off, and that's no easy feat. I mean, I've pulled muscles wrestling with that shit. This collection was so many things: feminine, flowy, sexy, angular, delicate, bright, timeless glamour mixed with sharp, modern cuts. When fashion reviews use so many words, it sounds like the writer is sitting there with a thesaurus, piling on the verbiage to distract from the fact that they have no clue what they're talking about. But Lady Blaga was enraptured and totally focused, as I am in all aspects of my life.

The pieces were so wonderfully lady like, and honoring of a female body, yet at the same time there was a clear "don't fuck with me, I'm no idiot" feel. Pretty but powerful. Aware of my feminine wiles. I'm here to have fun, but make no mistake, I'm running the show here. The wonderful jelly bean colors were delightful. My favorite was the bright, burst of sunshine yellow line, particularly the cutout two piece pants outfit with the billowy sleeves and diamond shape ab cutouts. I'd wear that in a heartbeat, and I'm certain every eye on the room would pop out of its socket. But you know what? I wouldn't even care about that, since I'd feel like a million bucks in it on my own.

The footwear was rad! Sea foam greens, bright whites, super chic affairs on the feet. It was thrilling to see plus size models too. Major points for celebrating all shapes and sizes. Oranges, teals, hot pinks, black too, all lent itself to a tropical paradise. The pieces would be perfect for the tropical trip of your lifetime, but can easily kick ass right here in the urban , harder to impress concrete jungle of NYC, bless her lil heart. The mix of strength and femininity was killer. That is a Blaga point of pride, so I look for that in how I dress. I felt at this show like how I felt as a kid, standing on the edge of one of those brightly colored plastic ball pits; I wanted to dive right in and be buried in color and sensation.

Leanne, take me with you!

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As for my ensemble to this show, it worked perfectly with that formula of lady killer. A feathery, flirty Carven miniskirt. A cropped vinyl zipper top, under a gold and black striped fitted Sonia Rykiel blazer. Sleeves up, collar popped, of course. My vintage, real deal bowler hat cocked jauntily to the side (I just wanted to use that phrase). That was a Vegas purchase, from a vintage treasure chest called Suzy Creamcheese. I wear it a ton. I loved it with the round Krewe sunnies. I felt a bit like Yoko. Gold Anya Hindmarch potato chip bag, named as such since it was inspired by chips. Really! Orange traffic cone kitten heels by Manolo, to really stop traffic. And so I could avoid needing to amputate my feet. Always a plus!  This look was a drop dominatrix ring master. Why not, right? I love that even though it was black based, it had a great mix of textures and patterns, which translated as richly interesting. No basic black here whatsoever. Cirque de Fashion Week was the hottest ticket in town, yo.
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photography credit-

Matt IG-  @usukumah

Ana Teixeira IG- @tayshayra

Vlad VP visuals IG- @vpvisuals

Andrew Werner IG- @andrewwerner