nice things lately
LA hero hair, scary breathing
Davines Solu shampoo
Suddenly I had the shittiest hair ever. It was somehow sticky and frizzy and oily, all at once, and it hung down from my head like sad snakes. Of course, I realized I hadn’t had a real haircut in a year, and that might be why. But I was almost too embarrassed to even go to a salon because it felt so snaky and greasy. The stylist asked when it started, and I said about a month ago. “So, when you moved to LA?” Aha.
Apparently this happens to people all the time—they have no idea that the water is hard, and they’re totally mystified when their hair suddenly looks completely different. The stylist recommended this shampoo to de-crud every three days, and I look AMAZING now. Yes, that’s the whole story.
I’m still trying to figure out what to think about my impulse toward mountain hag existence—do I think I get a trophy at the end of my life for being so frugal that my hair has grown into a mat? I don’t know. But if you’re going to play ball in LA, you need to have your hair on your side.
chewing cardamom pods
What if chewing gum didn't have any weird aspartame in it, and it kind of made your tongue go numb, and it was all natural? If you chew cardamom pods, you can live in that world.
becoming a NYT crossword jock
J and I have become crossword doers. It’s different from my solo crossword-doing habit, which is absolutely low-stakes. I do lots of Mondays and Tuesdays; I only like being a little bit challenged. I like feeling smart—zip zip, Monday done in 5 minutes!! The second I encounter something tricky or opaque, I bail.
J does not bail. He does not back down. He will continue to stare at the grid until he defeats it.
I had never even finished a Friday or Saturday—not with help, not alone, not at all. But once we got a streak going, J would not accept anything but victory.
And now, just like that, we are real crossword paisans. Crossword jocks.
Phlur Siano perfume
Oh, it was 2018 and I wanted to be a fancy lady. An adult lady. One who had her own signature scent. (My previous signature scent had been Prada Amber, which I supplied myself through constant free “samples” from Sephora. Bless.) I don’t really remember what my thought process was, how I ended up with Phlur, or how I ended up choosing Siano in particular (Hanami is better somehow?), but this was the one I ended up with.
I had just moved into a house I bought, I had just left my job at Google to be a full-time writer. I had been living alone for years, but there was something different about having a proper house that was all mine, where I got to paint the walls in the bedroom lilac and gray because I felt like it. I had a highly disciplined life—meditation, exercise, writing, no sugar or wheat or dairy. I was in incredible shape. It’s an era I think of fondly because I really decided to make myself a different shape, and it worked.
I bought myself a full-size bottle of it (fancy, adult, lady!!!) because I didn’t know yet that I’m one of those people who would rather have a little bit of 80 perfumes than one that I use all the time. Why? I don’t know. When you only have a little tiny sip of Another 13 left, it’s kind of precious, but when you have a big clonker of Comme des Garçons Wonderwood, you can drench yourself in it and it stops feeling all that special.
But now I realize that Phlur has rebranded, and they don’t even make Siano anymore. So it really is a time capsule. I don’t know why I’ve found myself picking it up again—maybe because I feel like I’m again in an era of making my life a different shape?
One of my favorite thing about being alive is all of the eras. The minor ones, I mean—the ones where you have a sudden love of a certain breakfast and eat it every day, the ones where you happen to hang out with a certain friend every Thursday for dinner because you both have some short-term scheduling situation which throws you together. You get a minor version of this when you take out your winter coat for the first time and find the accidental time capsules in your pockets consisting of a chapstick from a national park gift shop and a ticket stub and maybe a precious bracelet you’ve been looking for. Currents and tides are always moving. Meaning is briefly assembled, habit condenses occasionally. And then falls apart.
Bodyflex breathing exercises
Breathwork is the kind of thing that is deservedly joked about as part of the self-care industrial complex. But it really is kind of amazing. I’ve done a few different kinds of breathwork, including the kind that’s highly emotionally confrontational and you end up screaming into a pillow and the regular box breath (chill out 101).
But I have recently found a less esoteric, more buns-of-steel form of breathwork, and I love it. It’s called Bodyflex. Really just deep breathing, stretching, and stomach vacuums, but it feels incredible and I love it.
The only problem is it sounds disturbing because you basically wheeze all of the air out of your lungs. So I blast “Walking on Sunshine” while I do the routine in the bedroom.
saying “Annuvver banger” to myself under my breath when I drop something
I think it’s important to have a funny thing you say to yourself when you do something stupid. Moods start in small places. Mine do, anyway. If I’m not careful, “Ugh, why did I do that” can become “I’m so stupid” and then spiral when I chide myself, “I take things too seriously, I’m always like this.” The second arrow and all that.
On last week’s episode of Vanderpump Rules, we began with DJ James Kennedy mixing down a new track in the company of his dad, Andros, who sounds like a Robin Leach doll left out in the sun. James’ dad says encouragingly, “Another banger.” How sweet! But because he’s a human Valium, it comes out sounding more like “annuvver banghaaa.” An amazing moment, 10/10, perfect example of how perfect VPR has been lately.
I immediately requisitioned this phrase for use as my perpetual whoops/it’s not that serious use. Somehow it’s better said in an empty house with no one around.
Sexy Unique Podcast
Speaking of VPR. It is “a show for geniuses,” as Lara Marie Schoenhals of Sexy Unique Podcast says. And that is why you should listen to her. In general, I find it a bit icky that there’s a whole secondary market of entertainers who earn their bread by dissecting Bravolebrity goings-on, but I love SUP and LMS. There’s just something about hearing someone say, of Tom Schwartz, “He needs to be put down. Call the vet.”
It is my dream to be a guest on this show. If you know someone who knows someone, don’t hide it under a bushel. 🙏
NB: These are not sponsored links/paid for, just some things I like!
BUT also Will Shortz if you want to sponsor us going pro on the crossword, reach out!