Sneezing: A Convulsive Expulsion of Air from the Lungs Through the Nose and Mouth

This morning on Good Day New York (my favorite show to turn on in the morning while getting ready and making lunch for the fella and myself, not because of the news, but because Rosanna Scotto and Greg Kelly are so unprofessional), Rosanna Scotto informed me that we here in New York City are set to experience the worst allergy season in decades. Ugh...just great!

I didn't have many problems with allergies back in the very flat, often windy, farmland from which I hail. That I have them now, in this concrete jungle, is baffling, but that's neither here nor there. Last week, the fun started with itchy eyes, then progressed to my favorite part: nose troubles. While my keen ability to become seriously grossed out by almost anything keeps me from using anything but tissue to stop the deluge, I've always loved the idea of a handkerchief. Perhaps it's my penchant for fashion accessories that have fallen by the wayside, or maybe it's just that they're pretty pieces of cloth. Beginning with my favorite, the most NERDY handkerchief ever, that made me gasp and say "YES!" when I saw it:

Carl Sagan Handkerchief, by MaryElise at Etsy

Sneezy Sheets by The Honey Press at Etsy

Lovely Handkerchief by cottageinds at Etsy

by MiniatureRhino at Etsy

Sneezy Sheets by The Honey Press at Etsy

Come to think of it...I might buy the Sagan just to frame...

Call Me. I Mean, Don't.

My new friend over at Quindome Eats Cake posted some images by Anna Bond of Rifle Paper Co. As I told Quindome, I'd never seen anything by Mrs. Bond, before, and I love her stuff. I especially favor the Floral Heart Print, which is a great steal at $24.00 for an 8x10 print, and will look so great in an old frame, hanging in the entryway. I think I've found my first decorative piece for my new place!

Though they're out of my price range for the moment, I've wanted calling cards for years, and these little cuties with custom portraits are simple and perfect.

The calling card dream isn't dead, though, because they also have a more economical option that also caught my eye.

I'm not really even sure why I want calling cards, to be honest. I certainly wouldn't have my number on them; I'm notoriously awful at answering my phone and returning calls. Mostly because I loathe speaking on the telephone. It's just very unpleasant to me, for some reason. It makes me nervous. Which is, admittedly, weird. It would basically be a card with my name and e-mail address, which seems sort of useless, especially since I rarely have the occasion to meet new people to whom I'd give this card. Still...it's so classy!

What do you guys think?

And the map has started tearing along its creases due to overuse...

I am not very good at geography. If you gave me an empty map of the U.S....I'd own that business. But, outside of my own country, I'm almost clueless. This is partly because I never paid attention in any class I ever took, geography or not, and partly because I have a bad memory for things like that. Useless facts? They'll never leave my brain. Things I actually should know? Instantly forgotten as soon as I learn them. This particular shortcoming is baffling, though, because I LOVE MAPS. I love them. They're beautiful and interesting and I could stare at a map for a long time. I like looking at different countries, their shapes, their sizes, cities I've never heard of, etc. Routes, train lines, all of it. So, I was pretty psyched when I looked at Slate's "Today's Pictures" section yesterday and saw the following photos:

(Photo by Rene Burri)

(Photo by Bruno Barbey)

(Photo by Rene Burri)

(Photo by Rene Burri)

(Photo by Alex Majoli)

Boerum to Seigel

Yesterday was a very exciting day for me. My boyfriend (we’ll call him Mr. V from now on) and I signed the lease to our first apartment alone! Last July, I moved into his apartment, which he shared with his good friend and it may as well have been a blueprint model for single messy men all over the world. Beer cans go on the dining room table, not to be moved until no wood surface is to be seen. Dishes belong in the sink, naturally, but will remain dirty until no other item in the vicinity can be re-purposed into a bowl for cereal. If this point has not yet been reached and the sink is full, the spill over dishes will sit on the cabinet, dried, stuck-on food and all. The shower will not be cleaned until the organisms that have grown on its floor and walls start speaking. I might be exaggerating a bit, but only a bit. I knew what I was getting into.

While it's completely normal for a couple to have a roommate in this expensive city, we decided to move out, and started looking a few months ago. Luckily, we found a very cute 1 bedroom TWO BLOCKS AWAY from where we are now! This is good and bad, I suppose. Since living in New York, I have only lived in a general part of Brooklyn: Williamsburg/Greenpoint/Bedstuy/Bushwick. I was interested in moving to a completely different area, to get to know new shops and restaurants and perhaps even....a park, or trees, or something? At the same time, I'm glad I don't have to figure out a new commute (it's nice to be between the G, L, and JMZ....options are good!).

Neither of us really has any furniture. All of the lovely things I acquired before moving here a few years ago is sitting in the basement at my parents' house in the Midwest. Since moving here, I've not had a "home" really...just an assortment of apartments where I had to take other people who weren't my significant other into consideration. While I miss my great stuff back home, I am really excited to start from scratch. We're basically only taking our clothes, kitchen stuff, bathroom stuff, and....ourselves.

I'm excited to "start over" and buy all new things for the apartment. Big items on the list are: a new mattress (a super comfy one, please), a couch (I know it's called a "sofa", but I also call "soda" "pop", so I guess I just don't like so_a words?), and a television. We want a big-ass television. BIG ASS! But, it's the small things that I'm looking forward to. I love it when I walk into someone's apartment and see some clever little accent that makes me smile. I need to come up with some of these things to recreate to the best of my ability (of which I have little) and budget (also seriously lacking...). If any of you lovely readers have suggestions on easy cute DIY projects or places to score cheap pieces (especially in Brooklyn!) please, do chime in!

xoxo,

Ms. Seberg

Ms. Jean Seberg

When I decided to start this blog, I made the choice that I would try to remain mostly anonymous. Don't get me wrong: I greatly enjoy fashion / design blogs where the bloggers post photos of their outfits and their lives. It's fascinating to peek into someone else's world, especially when its full of creativity. But, I'm going to leave that to those who do it so well and just gush about things I love instead. In this context, my identity is irrelevant. And so my moniker is a tribute to my favorite style icon: Jean Seberg.

About six years ago, I was first introduced to the film A Bout de Souffle (Breathless) directed by Jean-Luc Godard. At that time, having lived in a quite uncultured place my whole life, I was not that interested in foreign films. "I don't want to have to read the whole time!" I protested. "Trust me...you'll love this..." my movie partner insisted.

From the first moment Jean Seberg (as Patricia Franchini) appeared on the screen, I already loved the film. Not so much because I found myself intrigued by the French New Wave, but because I could not take my eyes off of this Jean Seberg character! I couldn't believe that I had never heard of this actress. I'm not a film critic, so I can't speak to her acting talent, but she was most definitely a mesmerizing person to watch onscreen.


Six years later, I realize that I've gleaned a lot of my personal style from Jean: simple pieces, and stripes. Lots and lots of stripes. Mmm...stripes!



Unfortunately, Seberg's life was rife with problems. She suffered through failed marriages, the death of an infant, being chased by the FBI (seriously), and an addiction to prescription drugs and alcohol. She killed herself in 1979, at the age of 40, leaving behind a note that read, "Forgive me, I can no longer live with my nerves." I wish she were still around...it would be nice to know where her career would have gone, and how her style would have changed. For now, I will just have to honor her influence with this silly blog.


Yours truly,
Ms. Seberg

Pleased to Meet You

After spending too much time looking at fashion/style/design/art blogs anonymously, I've decided to start a blog of my own and interact with the online community, in a sense.

It won't be anything too special. Just things I like in general. Maybe some things I don't like, too, because what's the good without the bad?

If you'd like to swap links, or share inspiration, or anything else, please leave a comment or email me at breathless.ms.seberg@gmail.com.