The Republica Update/Rolling Solo

Several years ago I set the goal of visiting 20 countries in my 20s. With the youthful decade coming to a close, the pressure is on and I have some serious work to do. In a few days I will be leaving for my 19^th destination and, for this voyage, I will be flying solo. I have been the lone backpacker on several of these adventures and every time, as the departure date nears, I have a moment’s pause at the prospect of going to this foreign, often third world country, sans companion. (Read More)

march 2011

Uptown Collective/The Search For The Perfect Maduro: La Villita One

I may live alone, but this does not mean that I eat alone. When dining I am often flanked by attentive men and cheerful ladies catering to my every whim. This throng of helpful hands is not a gathering of family members who live close by and come by for Sunday dinners or friends for whom I throw elaborate dinner parties. They are waiters and waitresses and busboys in any of the number of establishments I frequent. Living alone and being culinary challenged lends itself to a lot of eating out, or ordering in, as the case may be. Because of my extensive knowledge of eating in stark contrast to the lack of cooking know how I thought I would share some of my dining experiences with the public and tell the tales of a woman’s quest for the perfect maduro. (read more)

march 2011

snowing in spring

march 2011

The Republica Update/Why Do Women Wear High Heels

I am a girl who has spent the majority of her existence fighting against all that is conventional and expected from said gender, but I’ll admit: I like shoes. I own 2 or 3 pairs that have been worn enough to justify the expense of their purchase. In more recent years I have become a big fan of the ankle boot. Slightly more secure on my foot than a stiletto coupled with the comfort of knowing I need not worry as to whether my ample calf can fit, as is the case with the knee high boot.

With the weather now changing, spring wardrobes are coming out from the back of their closets. The neglected garments emerge with deeply settled creases and the faint sent of moth balls and stale air, ready to once again hit the streets and show themselves in all of their brightly colored glory. (Read More)

march 2011

thank god i am no longer 22

i took it upon myself to it upon myself to check out the annual st. patrick's day parade on 5th avenue yesterday afternoon. i have been living in new york for over 5 years and visiting for well over a decade and have never taken the time out of my oh so busy schedule to celebrate my people (at least half celebrate). i was escorted by a lovely friend of mine with whom i have had many conversations about aging and approaching 30, as she is 6 months my junior. we went to central america together last year and had ample opportunity to talk about love, life, and the eternal questions about growing older. she is much more of a party girl than me and, as we were traversing rockefeller center, packed with frat boys sporting "I'm Irish, Blow Me" paraphernalia and inebriated girls using any holiday as an excuse to wear lingerie as outerwear,  i could actually see the wistfulness in her eyes; the hidden longing for youth passed by.

that is when i looked her in the face and exclaimed, "aren't you glad you're not 22 anymore?" thinking she would jump on immediately jump on board. instead she said just the opposite,  that she could wear green and party in the streets everyday of her life and be just fine. then i instructed her to take a good, hard look at the boisterous crowd surrounding us. these girls, young college age i imagine were not to be envied. they were like little lost puppies roaming the streets of new york city high on kibble and looking for a warm place to rest their head. they were awkward and uncertain of themselves with bad skin and even worse makeup and, if i do say so myself, very poorly styled.

now, i am not claiming to be so put together. my hemlines are consistently inappropriate and my recent adventure in bang-dom was a bad call, but, at 29 i am no longer the girl piecemealing her life together, but a woman who kind of has one worked out, not matter how much i am pained by it. as i looked at my striking blonde companion i could see the lights go on, if only dimly. she too, on some level or another, was glad that she was no longer 22. true, they have their whole lives ahead of them, but sooner or later you've got to start living yours and not planning for the one to come.

i am the absolute worst at doing this, as i like to save my cake, feeling no desire to actually eat it. i have more recently come to the realization that if i leave that cake waiting for me in my fridge it will either a) get stale and go bad or b) be eaten by my fictional roommate. sure, yesterday i was half proud to be half irish and glad that i not only got to enjoy beautiful weather and interesting people watching, but got to do so with an extraordinary woman but upon taking in the debauchery seen midday in midtown yesterday i will say this: thank god i am no longer 22.

march 2011

happy st. patricks day

march 2011

The Republica Update/My First Love

Mid March in New York is like a 19-year-old girl, temperamental and powerful: the ultimate tease. The frigid winds give way to buds in bloom and the promise of warm and sunny skies are just around the corner. I made it a mission to take full advantage of this seasonal version of blue balls last weekend and went for a midday run. While pounding the sidewalk in slow, steady beats, ‘Landslide’ popped up on my ipod and as my all time favorite song permeated my eardrums the timbre of Stevie Nicks’ voice sparked tenderness in my heart and suddenly the familiar tune prompted visions of a familiar face: my first love. (Read More)

March 2011