25 June 2010

He said, She said

There is a crack in everything, that's how the light gets in. - LC
Every picture has its shadows, and it has some source of light. - JM



21 June 2010

We've been waiting for you...


The first day of summer is officially today. You now have the right to:
1. Wear blindingly bright shades of nail polish and still be elegant 
2. Wear less clothes and not be solicited for favors (New Jersey residents N/A)
3. Not only sing along to a Ke$ha tune in your car, behind the curtain of a dressing room, but now in public!
4. Dress like:  a) your family vacations in Martha's Vineyard  
                       b) you walked off the Three's Company set  
                       c) 1980 called and they want their wardrobe back

Girls, just remember, look both ways before eating that ice cream in public. 

14 June 2010

Diba's to the dancefloor, please


Empress Farah Diba Pahlavi


And I'm proud to be an Iranian-American, where at least I know I'm free. 

Switching gears, if i may


Mama knows best, but Sofia said it best

Take the square root of my inspiration and you get...



Dedicated to my mother, Victoria.

It's been only a few years since I started inquiring about who my mother actually was. Since she passed away nearly 18 years ago, her memory has been kept alive in my family by her accomplishments and more or less, her defeat by breast cancer. I was just 10 years old when she passed, so barely having developed a relationship with her, I was left with mere images of my mother recounted numerous times through photographs and mealtime reminisces. From what I had gathered, she was a brilliant University of Chicago post-grad, an aspiring medical student whose pathway was detoured by illness. The more I thought about it (in my adult life), the more I realized that for most of my childhood, the only mother I knew was the sick version. For some reason, I never bothered to explore who she was until one day I made a face. Well, it was more like an eye-roll. My cousin said to me, "That is SOOOOOO a face your mom would make!" What? My mother was an actual person?! She wasn't a saint? A heroine? She actually rolled her eyes? She used expletives? This was the beginning of a beautiful exploration...

I began asking my extended family to dish some stories on Vicki. I didn't want to know about her valedictorian ways or super-woman feats, but I wanted to know why she was cooking organic in the 80's, how she appreciated good gossip and was always getting dirt on the latest bachelors in town for her cousins, and how she was unfailingly sarcastic and quick-witted. Slowly, I began to piece her together and at the same time I had enkindled myself (or at least the half that I could attribute to her). So, sarcasm is genetic? Bohemian tendencies, too? A palate for raw foods and tofu is a heritable trait, apparently.

With that being said, I've never wanted to romanticize the memory of my mother nor make her a taboo subject or a "spooky" one. But as this blog is a transcript of sparks, ignites, likes, and loves- my mental pen-to-paper, I have to give credit to the spinner of my spool, the woman who fed me whole wheat crust-soy cheese pizza in '89....

my muse, ma mére.