Hank & Yo-Yo, T/L/A
Okay, this is the coolest thing ever:
I have an amazing friend named Sarah who lives in England. Sarah is one of those friends who makes everything prettier and sparklier and far more interesting just by walking into a room. When I grow up, I want to be Sarah.
Sarah has a friend named Lisa. Lisa is creative and dazzling and has the kindest, most gentle demeanor. And she has gorgeous blonde curly hair. And she appreciates the life-changing power of a pedicure. I was able to hang out with Lisa when she and Sarah took business trips to New York when they worked together, doing clothing graphics. One of their clients is Topshop, a very large, very hip clothing chain in Britain.
I just found out that Lisa designed a top called the Marla top, named after yours truly, and word is it's going to be the top of the season. (Many "top"s, one sentence.) I find this to be flattering and hilarious and not the least bit ironic, as I am not exactly fashion-forward. (To clarify: I know what I like and I think I have decent taste, in the same way everybody thinks they have good taste, but I just don't wear what I like because the plus-size market is a travesty.) I don't know what the Marla looks like yet, but I'm dying to see it because I'd love to know what I look like in garment form. I always thought my garment equivalent would end up being, like, a 10-year-old J. Crew rollneck sweater and a pair of granny panties, but apparently I've been upgraded. Lisa, if you're reading this, THANK YOU for making me far more stylish than I am. How cool! This is way better than having a sandwich named after you, for sure.
It was absolutely gorgeous outside this weekend, so I spent three hours on Saturday bushwhacking my woefully overgrown, neglected garden. Between that and my latest efforts to work out, the inconvenient pain in the backs of my thighs will currently not allow me to a) sit, b) stand, c) bend, and d) move in any way.
My mother just called to tell me that their yellow Lab, Henry, has fallen in love. He met his girlfriend, Yo-Yo, at the dog park, where he nuzzles her and licks her face and, says Mom, "gazes lovingly into her snout." I said they must make a fabulous couple; Mom said, "It would look wonderful on napkins: Hank & Yo-Yo."
I think that if you find someone who doesn't walk away when you lick their nose, then you've found a keeper.
I have an amazing friend named Sarah who lives in England. Sarah is one of those friends who makes everything prettier and sparklier and far more interesting just by walking into a room. When I grow up, I want to be Sarah.
Sarah has a friend named Lisa. Lisa is creative and dazzling and has the kindest, most gentle demeanor. And she has gorgeous blonde curly hair. And she appreciates the life-changing power of a pedicure. I was able to hang out with Lisa when she and Sarah took business trips to New York when they worked together, doing clothing graphics. One of their clients is Topshop, a very large, very hip clothing chain in Britain.
I just found out that Lisa designed a top called the Marla top, named after yours truly, and word is it's going to be the top of the season. (Many "top"s, one sentence.) I find this to be flattering and hilarious and not the least bit ironic, as I am not exactly fashion-forward. (To clarify: I know what I like and I think I have decent taste, in the same way everybody thinks they have good taste, but I just don't wear what I like because the plus-size market is a travesty.) I don't know what the Marla looks like yet, but I'm dying to see it because I'd love to know what I look like in garment form. I always thought my garment equivalent would end up being, like, a 10-year-old J. Crew rollneck sweater and a pair of granny panties, but apparently I've been upgraded. Lisa, if you're reading this, THANK YOU for making me far more stylish than I am. How cool! This is way better than having a sandwich named after you, for sure.
It was absolutely gorgeous outside this weekend, so I spent three hours on Saturday bushwhacking my woefully overgrown, neglected garden. Between that and my latest efforts to work out, the inconvenient pain in the backs of my thighs will currently not allow me to a) sit, b) stand, c) bend, and d) move in any way.
My mother just called to tell me that their yellow Lab, Henry, has fallen in love. He met his girlfriend, Yo-Yo, at the dog park, where he nuzzles her and licks her face and, says Mom, "gazes lovingly into her snout." I said they must make a fabulous couple; Mom said, "It would look wonderful on napkins: Hank & Yo-Yo."
I think that if you find someone who doesn't walk away when you lick their nose, then you've found a keeper.
posted by Marla at 5:22 PM
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