It’s taken me a long time to feel affected by something enough to unload it onto the internet, but this is one of those long-simmering slow boils that is about to finally pop the top off of the pressure cooker. What is “a creative?” Is it someone who only works in the arts? Is it a social media director? Is it someone who works in public relations? An editor of a magazine? I have no idea as to what concretely defines “a creative” anymore, but I know that I am one. It’s an innate knowledge, probably the only thing I was born sure of, but what I’ve also learned is that at times, it is a G-d damn pain in the ass. Life in the arts, of any kind, is the furthest thing from a smooth ride into a sufficient paycheck & contentedness. It’s definitely easier today than back when I was growing up (and no lie, I’m so envious of these kids attending performing arts high schools and summer dance and drama camps and such, that sometimes I wish I could just be reborn – I’m Hindu-ish, I’m sure it’ll work – and do it all over again).
On any given day, when I go to my routine job in order to fund my passions in design and dance, I’ll be half present. It’s a job that requires organization, work ethic, and some brain power, but not enough that my mind isn’t wandering into my next “masterpiece” of some kind. What’s the strangest ensemble I can put together that I’m sure will push the boundaries of normal construction? What’s the most out-of-the-box movement I can push my body to make in some new choreography? This thought process usually very rapidly progresses to “Why am I not in the arts full-time?” “Why is this not where my life’s funding is coming from?” “Why am I still in healthcare when I quit medical school 7 years ago?” And then come the influx of emotions; disappointment, despondence, whys & what-ifs, sadness, inspiration, rallying, excitement, enthusiasm..lather, rinse, repeat. And those last three words are why as each day goes by, I feel my flame extinguished little by little, slowly but surely.
Why do “creatives” have to struggle to make their contributions matter? We are progressive, we push boundaries, we help people think on alternative planes, we force people to delve deeper into themselves, we sometimes gift people to have the confidence to look deeper into others. So why isn’t creative input as socially important as, for example, a doctor’s? Now, before everyone dumps on me, realize this; I obviously know a doctor has indispensable life-saving skills and they go through a lot to get to that point where their patients trust them enough to literally put their lives in their hands. And yes, of course, a musician or a dancer will need a doctor at some point. But use your right brain for a minute. Have you ever thought about how a musician could possibly be saving a doctor’s life? What about that surgeon in that OR who has been awake for 48 hours not having seen his/her family with someone’s mortality in their hands? What about his/her favorite musician whose labor of love is what they’re playing in the OR to calm their nerves or keep them awake or reach into some emotion or memory or whatever the case may be in order to focus and keep their patient alive & well? We need each other.
The stigma that an artist is a wishy-washy hippie with no real focus or destination is what keeps us all down, the non-artists included. This creative life is an unforgiving, difficult, lonely, misunderstood, emotionally-turmoiled typhoon..that is also the most fulfilling, evolving, magnetic, identifying, truthful, cathartic, satisfying, authentic one. To not be able to wholly live it is soul-crushing..like a permanent Dementor all up in your face. But those with the tenacity and voracity to live that roller coaster, no matter the cost, are the ones that fly. They are the ones who make change happen, not because they are creative, but because they are full of grit & blind determination & the optimism that tells them everything will happen for them in time.
I want to be that person. I have to be that person. And I’ve given myself a deadline on when I will be that person.
Stay tuned..changes, they are a’comin’.
Today’s Wisdom:
“There is a vitality, a life force, an energy, a quickening that is translated through you into action, and because there is only one of you in all of time, this expression is unique. And if you block it, it will never exist through any other medium and it will be lost. The world will not have it. It is not your business to determine how good it is nor how valuable nor how it compares with other expressions. It is your business to keep it yours clearly and directly, to keep the channel open. You do not even have to believe in yourself or your work. You have to keep yourself open and aware to the urges that motivate you. Keep the channel open. No artist is pleased. No satisfaction whatever at any time. There is only a queer divine dissatisfaction, a blessed unrest that keeps us marching and makes us more alive than the others.” -Martha Graham
Today’s Interlude:“Pure Imagination” from Willy Wonka & The Chocolate Factory
So, it’s been quite a while since I’ve written a post & that’s mostly due to the fact that life caught up to me & I was too busy making a list of observations to actually have a chance to sit down & write about ’em.
Jobs. We all either have them, need them, or are retired from them. We either love them, hate them, or are apathetic towards them. For some, they’re a means to an end; for some, they’re the only consistent things in life; for some, they’re the greatest love affairs; and for some, they’re the bane of their existence. So, what’s my input? They suck. Unless of course, you’ve known what you want to do your whole life & were afforded the opportunities to strive for success in your chosen field from a very young age. Below, you’ll find my unsolicited, but in my humility-laden opinion, spectacular and priceless, advice to the classes of whatever year you did/will graduate, be they from elementary, junior high, high school, college, grad school, or some other institution. Read & heed, my friends!
DO WHAT YOU WANT. That’s all. Simple. If you have an inkling of what you want to do your whole life at whatever age you are, GO FOR IT. Don’t allow doubts, fears, or pesky little things like crippling anxiety overshadow your passion and desire for a specific route for your life. Live for yourself. It’s always nice to be selfless, but sometimes, you need to be selfish. I found out the hard way. I drastically changed my career path at the ripe young age of 30. I dropped out of medical school, I launched my own fashion line, and I continued to look for odd jobs to support my business. IT SUCKED. I wish I had gone to FIT or Parson’s right out of high school. I wish I had interned for Valentino or Marchesa or Rodarte. I wish I had apprenticed in Bombay with a designer I know. I wish I had done a lot of things, but I didn’t. I couldn’t. So, at the age of 33 with a graduate level education, a creatively obsessive background, and a small business, I worked (until a week ago) at a daycare center. I wiped other people’s children’s poop and noses (not with the same wipe, don’t worry), I cut up hot dogs for toddler lunches, I woke up at the crack of dawn (NOT ideal for an insomniac/nocturnal creature), I stood for 8 hours a day, and I dealt with the worst boss known to mankind. Lucky for me, I adore children and teaching both, so I made the best of what it was. A measly job with minor pay, but it allowed me to go to LA and go to Bombay and teach dance classes 3 days a week. It allowed me time to design & sketch at home, it allowed me time to spend QT with my nephew, and it allowed me time to go back to seriously building my business.
Unfortunately, I was forced to quit last week because that aforementioned “Horrible Boss” (without an ounce of the attractiveness of Jennifer Aniston), did not allow me a day off to attend a family funeral. Bitches be trippin’, yo, and karma isn’t always kind. Anyhow, so now here I am, back on the job hunt while working 20 hours a day on this and what do I find? I’m too overqualified for jobs like a cashier at Target or a counter person at a bakery, but too underqualified for the jobs relevant to my field. Do I have 2-4 years of retail experience if I want to apply as a Fashion Assistant at DKNY? No. I was at a science research program at Marymount. Do I have 1-2 years of previous mailroom experience in order to apply for a MAIL SORTER position at Armani? Nah. I was in medical school in Antigua.
I’m noticing that there are more and more people out there experiencing this kind of rock and a hard place situation when it comes to gainful employment (especially after a career shift), no matter what area it’s in. There are articles upon articles out there about what “experience” really even means in the social media obsessed, Vine celebrity, hired-from-Twitter-feed-to-become-a-TV-writer world (hello, Harvard Business Review!?!), but nothing actually being done about the seemingly ubiquitous situation. So my point of this rant is, until there is some evolution with today’s times, take my advice: START YOUNG. Yes, everyone will tell you it’s never too late. I mean, for the sake of full disclosure of my hypocrisy, one of my favorite quotes is “It’s never too late to be what you might have been” by George Eliot. HOWEVER, if you want to be who you might have been with a little more ease and comfort and a slightly quicker success rate, be who you might have been…..NOW.
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Today’s Interlude:“Everybody’s Free To Wear Sunscreen” by Baz Luhrmann
Today is a good day. It’s the first day in over 6 months that I actually have the desire to go out and reconnect with people without having a constant frenetic worry in my head about my family & their health & whereabouts. The sun is bronzing our front yard, the mild breeze feels like snuggling with newborns, & my endorphin levels are at some unprecedented high. I used to scoff (until it affected me..sorry about that) at the whole seasonal depression thing. I figured that if people in London weren’t all down & depressed their entire lives considering their lack of natural Vitamin D providers, then weather really wasn’t what was affecting your mood. Just kidding. The past couple of weeks have made me realize that Mother Nature, that little vengeful woman, has had my head in a vice all winter long. Blizzards, gray skies, polar vortexes, & gloomy rain, combined with family health issues, had me downer than Debbie and more negative than Nancy.
I don’t know if it’s the weather, I don’t know if it’s the fact that (knock on wood) my family is feeling better, I don’t know if it’s because I’m starting to (excruciatingly slowly) get my shit together, & I don’t know if it’s because I absolutely refuse to have to take any anxiety medication (I have no stigma against it, it’s just a personal preference that I would rather not take anything), but I’m stage 5 clinging to whatever is causing this upswing in my mood & positivity & general infatuation with the good and happy in the world. Next winter, I’m flying south with the winged & this summer, I’m absorbing rays like I’m a God damn human greenhouse (wearing SPF 100), but as for the present moment, “it’s a new dawn, it’s a new day, it’s a new life..for me. And I’m feelin’ good.” 😎
MY.NY. I’ve called it that for the past 8 years, lived in it for the past 32. It’s home, it’s always been home, I’m pretty sure it’ll always be home. I’ve been in love with the whole state, but mostly my city, my whole life & when people speak of their excitement or their “dream” to visit NYC one day, I get it. I feel lucky that I’ve lived in the center of the chaos; I feel lucky that now I’m only tens of minutes away on the outskirts of the hubbub. However, recently, things have had a subtle shift. The geographical love of my life has begun to fray at the edges, blurring my vision from behind my rose-colored glasses, adding an anxious thrum to the usually enthralled pulse that runs through me at just the sight of the concrete jungle.
New York, NYC, MY.NY., The Big Apple, The City That Never Sleeps is..amazing. It’s awesome. It’s incredible. It’s a world of its own with the population of the city being so diverse, you might as well have a passport for the island. You can be proffered a taste of a little bit of everything, a little bit of something, but sometimes that can transform into a little bit of nothing. New York has an inherent electricity far different from the literal Times Square sense. Even the subways have an energy, even the sidewalks have a story. New York, the emotional oxymoron; a place with over 8 million people that struggle to find just one or two true connections. The palpable nature of the city can either be arousing or overwhelming, sometimes both. Opportunities call kindly to you from every neon sign, from every sky-scraping window, from every glittering marquis; but they also dangle temptingly in front of you like a carrot, making you walk blindly & aimlessly that one extra step after another in the hopes that you’ll be allowed to take a bite someday. Someday. Nightfall in NYC can be a startlingly different experience from one 12 hour gap to the next. One night you’re out at a restaurant, a jazz bar, a club, & life is good and jubilant and you’re a firecracker about the town without a burden to shoulder. The next, you’re home in your shoebox studio that’s costing you your pension eating Ramen noodles & watching Sex & The City’s glossy glammed up version of a very different reality, & wondering why you feel alone in a city full of promised promise.
Don’t get me wrong, I am still thoroughly obsessed with my town. I love the “melting pot,” the variety, the camaraderie (it does happen sometimes!). I live for feeling alive when I walk through Central Park in the summer or 5th Avenue in the winter, Union Square in the fall, The Met in the spring. The sparkling lights still set something ablaze in the pit of my stomach (that is not attributed to the spices from an NY slice), my colorful memories leap out at me from every psychic-resided corner. I roam my undergraduate hallways of Washington & Waverly, gazing at the billowing purple NYU flags that are now ubiquitous at every turn from FiDi to SoHo to The Village to Midtown, reminiscing about that first day that my address read “New York, NY 10003” & how I was ready to embrace the place like a long lost love that I never knew I had. The creativity, the individuality, the temperament that is solely New York still tugs at my heartstrings like a child determinedly pulling a mother into a candy store. But now & again, I wonder if “MY.NY.” will forever be in the throes of a lifelong identity crisis.
“I carry the place around the world in my heart but sometimes I try to shake it off in my dreams.”-F.Scott Fitzgerald
Today’s Interlude(s): “New York, New York” by Frank Sinatra & “Empire State Of Mind” by Jay-Z & Alicia Keys
I couldn’t begin to tell you when my obsessive love affair with travel began. I credit my parents who always made it a point to take the family to a new place annually, & from then on, all I ever wanted to do was to be in a new place every week. Out of all of the places I have traveled, & I’m discounting New York & Mumbai/Bombay because they are home, two of my most j’adored cities are London & Paris. Now I know you’re all saying, “Ok, what a cliché, you loser. Everybody loves those two.” And I’m replying, “Relax, that’s mean, and when I mean favorite I mean if I could live in 3 cities at once, I would, & if I could marry a location, I’d say ‘Oui Oui’ to Paree & ‘Hip hip’ to London” (couldn’t make that last one rhyme).
I’ve been to London & Paris 3 times; once in the summer 1994 when I was 12, once in the summer of 2010 when I was 29 as part of a 2 week European excursion, & once in the winter of 2012, when I was 31. Each time I experienced the same thing in the form of adoration & elation, and different things in the form of feelings, things to see, and perspectives. I was born an Anglophile (causation could be that I was conceived in London on Valentine’s Day-sorry for the TMI but I had to know it & so now, do you) and everything about England makes me unabashedly happy; the accent, the whole magical land, the history, the architecture, the people, & so long as the Brits are okay with it, the monarchy. The amount of Union Jack clothing I own is becoming concerning, & my crowning glory in life is when multiple real life British folk told me that my British accent is, & I quote, “quite posh & not terrible.” The fact that I refer to this as my crowning glory tells you something about me that we’ll save for another day.
Though I can’t articulate my love for London (& the rest of the country), I can tell you where I had some of the best times of my life & where I think you should do the same. Do the touristy things, but don’t hop on that hop on-hop off big red Clifford bus! Grab a map, get familiar with the Underground/”tube,” & off you go. You’ll save pounds while losing pounds (haaaa) and you’ll see everything in a brand new light. If you want the history and all that, grab a guidebook or read something from the library. The only way to experience London is by exploring it. The usual tourist spots include The London Eye (highly recommended if you don’t have a fear of heights or motion sickness), actually going inside Westminster Abbey, standing in front of & hearing Big Ben chime at 12, trying to talk to a guard at Buckingham Palace before or after The Changing of the Guards (which my brother did when he was 5 & pretty much drove the poor man nuts). Watch a play or a musical on the West End (I saw Les Miserables the day I landed with jet lag when Nick Jonas was in it & I loved it for many reasons), have dinner in Leicester Square & then grab drinks at The W there, go see the Kohinoor & the Tower Jewels (just don’t start yelling that the British stole it from India & the Taj Mahal & you’re going to get it back a la, again, my brother & that way you won’t be arrested). I could’ve lived at Shakespeare’s Globe Theatre simply imagining every historical character that was created/performed there. CAN YOU IMAGINE SEEING THE ORIGINAL A MIDSUMMER NIGHT’S DREAM!? Walk along & see that London Bridge is still, in fact, intact & no one is locked up in there as the creepy children’s song suggests. Go to Nando’s & eat chicken with the hottest Peri Peri sauce they have because that’s the right thing to do in life, saunter down Regent Street & either think of your hometown mall that has all the same stores like I do (also because 1 pound is approximately 3 million dollars) or be that cool person & actually buy stuff from there because you can. Stop in the middle of Trafalgar Square in the evening hours & just look around and think about how lucky you are that you’re in London & how much cooler it would be if I were with you! The cruise on the Thames is kinda fun & boozy, so definitely do that. Hop on over to the Warner Brothers Studio in Leavesden and see all of the real sets and props from ALL EIGHT HARRY POTTER FILMS. And never show me those pictures because I have yet to do that & it would be depressing if you went before I did. If you’re creepy like me, the London Dungeon is the most fascinating place ever & whoever the sicko is who decided to charge people to go there is a mild genius. If you’re really bored in London, although why you would be is beyond me, go to Madame Tussaud’s Wax Museum & compare/contrast it to the other billion Madame Tussaud’s Wax Museums. If you’re in the mood to feel Indian (whether you actually are or not), you can go to Southall or Brick Lane and partake in the culture within the culture. In the mood to set fire to your stomach lining? Try the infamous Bollywood Burner challenge at The Cinnamon Club or the Curry Hell challenge at the Rupali Restaurant. This is not an endorsement because personally, I’m emotionally attached to my intestines. Visit Sylvia Plath’s house if you’re into morbid literaries as I am, & then cheer yourself up with some retail therapy under Harrod’s iconic green canopies. And finally, hobnob & have high tea and watercress sandwiches with the high & mighty over in Hyde Park & let me know how that goes; I’ll probably be over in Notting Hill looking for Hugh & Julia. Actually, I’m always looking for Hugh, London or anywhere.
Go in the summer & go in the winter (we went for New Year’s Eve & it couldn’t have been greater). Go whenever you can. The city is rich with culture, history, modernism, and life. London’s Ministry of Tourism should really consider hiring me, although I’d much rather prefer The Ministry of Magic.
And, one 2.5 hour Eurail ride later, we’ve arrived in Paris; the city of love, lights, croissants, & Chanel. I love Paris a little less than London because some of the people there aren’t quite so friendly (the rumors are true, in my experience at least), but I j’adore it nonetheless. I had always imagined sitting on the grassy banks of the Seine jotting away in a journal, gazing at the Eiffel Tower, & sipping my hot chocolate since a latté would have me zig zagging through the banks of the Seine. Though that particular fantasy has yet to occur, I’ve fulfilled many another in my Parisian trips thus far. As I watched the Eiffel Tower come into view my first time there at the age of 12, I couldn’t bring myself to believe that I was even there. I remember just sitting there, mouth agape, wanting to hug it (if you’ve gotten the impression that I’m extremely strange from the posts you’ve read on Champagne & Cookie Dough so far, you are absolutely right & I’m completely ok with you judging me). 😉 I was in Paris & Paris was in me and all I wanted to do was everything, which is what I want you to do too. Go to Nice. It’s nice (I’m killin’ it today, guys). Stroll down the Champs de Elysees from the Arc du Triomphe all the way down to the ferris wheel (I suggest summertime for this, my friends). Hang out at the bar at the foot of the Eiffel Tower, stay there ’til evening when the lights go on & sparkle on the hour. The day Disneyland Paris was announced to open, 11 year old me vowed to get there at some point. You can’t put two things like Goofy & Paris together & expect me not to get there. 20 years later, on the 20th anniversary of Disneyland Paris, the dream came true & it was spectacular. GO THERE DURING CHRISTMASTIME, IT WILL BE THE GREATEST THING YOU EVER DO! [warning: slight embellishment there, you will definitely do greater things] Get a pass for the métro & go roam the city of dreams, see the museums aside from the very beautiful but very obvious Louvre (But don’t forget the Louvre! It’s so much more fun to walk back & forth in front of the real Mona Lisa to see her eyes eerily follow you around while other tourists wonder wtf you’re doing)! Please, oh, please, go see the Notre Dame, marvel in its beauty & architecture inside & out, and then go to the Latin Quarter. This incredible area of bars & restaurants is one of the most fascinating and fun places I’ve ever been to. Various cuisines, a multitude of music, humongous portions of food & drink, and an eclectic mix of locals and tourists make this the go to hotspot for, well, people who like fun. Georges Café & their every-30-minute sparklers forever. Ride the carousel near the Eiffel Tower after you (physical ability permitting) climb up the stairs to the top of it, the sommet if you will (see how cultured I am, I remembered the sign from when I was wheezing past it). Go on a booze cruise on the Seine in the summer (clearly, you see I’m a fan of booze cruises if you’ve been reading the travel posts here). If you go during the Christmas season, nothing is better than the Christmas markets in front of the Eiffel Tower (please see my cool beer picture) & on the Champs Elysees (please see my macarón/homemade chocolate/flying Santa pictures). The market has everything from what I mentioned above to hot wine, fresh fruit, children’s rides, hot toddies, spiced ales, ornaments, blown glass, & more. The spirit is well & alive in Paris during the December days. Can’t forget to peek into Moulin Rouge because if you don’t, then why are you there anyway!? For a stellar view of the Eiffel Tower/Arc du Triomphe combo, try & stay at the Hotel Concorde Lafayette in the La Defénse area. If you don’t want to stay there, but still want the view, make sure to make window seat reservations in advance (& bring a fat wallet) for Bar La Vue on the top level of the hotel. Hot pink interiors, DJed sounds, & the most scenic view you could ask for (reminiscent of Robert @ MAD in NYC). If you leave Paris without eating fresh baguette sandwiches, giant chocolate croissants, & sumptuous Nutella & strawberry crepes, you are not a human being. I’m sorry to be the one to break it to you. They will all melt in your mouth & make you wonder why you can’t date food and you will go home 291 pounds heavier but the bond you forged with that meal will last forever. Tired from all of the meandering? Pop into Shakespeare & Company and sit in their cushy little armchair with a tome to pass your time. Read something by Marcel Proust, Victor Hugo, George Sand, or Honoré de Balzac..& then go visit their homes that are now museums open to the public. Fashion fiends like me can at least see the exterior of Coco Chanel’s apartment at 31 Rue Cambon (the Chanel store is on the ground floor so go [window] shopping or something while you’re there). In the mood to drink where plenty of famous people just like yourself have? La Fouquet’s Brasserie on the Champs de Elysees. Brilliant brews, fine wines, tasty bites, and the most fascinating people watching ever! I had wanted to go every time I went to Paris & in 2012, I finally got the chance and it was completely worth it. Want to just relax and embrace the surroundings? Make a pit stop at the Tuileries Palace & Garden with a book and a baguette in 1st arrondissement. If that palace ain’t big enough for you, Versailles is only a 20 minute train ride away for you to relish in your royal reveries. Not enough reign for you? Take a 6.5 hour train ride, & there you are in Monaco/Monte Carlo. Enjoy the French Riviera, take in the classic view, & head an hour further to Cannes & walk your red carpet fantasies into reality.
Now that I’ve waxed poetic about Paris, you think France will reinstitute an actual monarchy & make me Queen? I look good in a crown & it can be my new, more literal crowning glory of life.
I’m not a local so of course I’ve left out plenty of things to discover in London & Paris (if you’re a local, please send me a list so that I can do them myself the next time I go, & there will be a next time)! However, I sincerely hope you can get to these cities one day, whether by yourself, with a significant other, or with your families. If you’re lucky, you will be able to do all three & treasure a completely unique experience from each one. Until then, keep calm & carry on, mes amis!
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For an even more COMPLETELY ABSURD amount of pictures of two of my favorite cities from 2010 & 2012, you can go here, here, here, & here!
Today’s Interlude(s): “Les Champs Elysees,” Joe Dassin& “Maybe It’s Because I’m A Londoner,” Hubert Gregg (video sung by Yavuz Ozisik)
I decided to try a new way of battling insomnia; and if you’re reading this, then thanks & welcome to my whirlwind! Champagne & cookie dough. Is there a better combination to be had? Well, maybe, but I don’t think so & this is my blog so I win.
I came up with this title while I was hungry, obviously, but I managed to put two meanings behind it so I validated myself. Champagne & cookie dough is a lifestyle. And champagne & cookie dough is a woman. Deep, I know.
People have oft come up to me and said they would like to travel to places I’ve been or live the way I live, mostly because they only know what I allow them to see on social media. Granted, I’ve been very lucky to do many things in my life, but let’s be clear; I try to live a champagne life on a cookie dough budget. And I’m pretty sure that’s how it is for most average people out there. Not that I aspire to be average, that’s actually my greatest fear in life. Nameless, faceless, dead. But you’re not my therapists so let me not digress. This blog is going to be a space where I’m honest about how I live, and how I think many of us live. I like the Louboutins & Birkins as much as the next person (except my brother, I think he thinks those are my friends’ last names or something), but at this point in time, all I can do is double tap the CL & Hermès Instagrams and then go to Aldo & Forever 21. For now, I’m okay with it because in the poetic words of Jessie J., “It’s not about the money, money, money..we don’t need your money, money, money” (we obviously do to survive, but let’s just roll with this for the moment).
The other aspect to champagne & cookie dough is the kind of girl (I still like using girl, “woman” makes me feel geriatric) that I think I am/want to be (chime in if you think otherwise), and the kind of girl that I think just gets it all. The class of champagne, the relatability of cookie dough. You’ll see more elaboration in the types of posts here, but that’s the general idea.
champagne & cookiedough 