Tag: Travel
Taking a trip to Washington D.C. this weekend was a sweat-induced exercise in U.S. History. All of those facts we learned when we were younger: the dates, the names, the series of events, the teams, the victories and heartbreak, slowly resurfaced, as if I closed the book on History of the Americas 101 just a few years ago.
Funny enough, I was re-learning the banes of my youth during the my daily informational strolls around D.C., while at night, reading #GIRLBOSS by Sophia Amoruso, friend and founder of NastyGal. She recounts her youth of being the anti-student, never absorbing, always fighting the rules, jumping from school to school, perpetually quitting, and eventually homeschooling.
Sophia and I are now in a place of trajectory fashion domination (fair enough, her best-selling author status and $100+ million dollar company review gives her an edge), but we both forgot what year the Civil War started.
The only difference seems, I care that I forgot.
She doesn't.
Hi, my name is Elshane and I’m a music festival junkie. Well, let me tweak that statement and just say a fun-seeker. An outdoor festival fun-seeker. Hi.
Therefore, it’s only natural that Napa Valley’s BottleRock Music Festival would be on the top of my list of all-time fun-seeking festivals. A festival that integrates wine connoisseurs, food truck enthusiasts and music lovers alike in the sprawling greenery of San Francisco’s outer banks? Yeah, that will work.
As classy as wine-infused music sounds, your lewk must fit the bill...
Take Jeremy Scott’s cue from Moschino this season, and skip the Coachella “Cheap” and go straight to “Chic” for this festival lewk. I chose this airy pencil skirt with a flirty top because, well, won’t I look great holding a glass of Merlot in this? Oh, and don’t forget a wild headpiece. Never forget a wild headpiece.
I sit here editing this post while a prisoner of my first love, New York City. I've been here for one week on business, and constantly reminded why my parents chose to bless my life with the colorful reality of a big city upbringing. (Curious about my past? Read my BIO.)
Curiously enough, as I have been envying the evolving hustle and grind of my oldest and dearest NYC friends all week, I fortuitously find myself sitting on a rented couch on the upper east side, gazing out of this brownstone to the electric streets, only to be editing this very post.
This very post, might I add, is one of the biggest reasons I fell in love with Los Angeles. Throwing away everything I had learned to be accostumed to as a New Yorker {sweat, schlep, subways}, to trade it all in for {sun, serenity, S-Class Mercedes} Ok, fine. It's a Porsche. Happy? Oh, and a skate park on the beach. Because I skate. {Definition of skate: look cute against a cement background while slangin' a 16-year-old's board}.
Coming back to reality, a.k.a. New York, is always a jolt of feel-good energy. But in the end, skate me away to my new home of sky-high fantasy.
Just don't take away my first love.