a life in style. or so i thought.

yesterday i stumbled across this awesome post from geraldine and it hit home. as people who have a blog (wouldn’t want to say “as bloggers” or “as writers” because that sounds really pretentious and sort of asshole-y) and people in general we constantly need to define ourselves. or at least that’s what the world wants us to do. little boxes on the hill side… the one and only time i ever put my little blog up for any sort of best of i had a hard time choosing a box that i wanted to be the best of. in the end i think i chose the humour box, which turned out to be the wrong one, because while people tell me i’m funny, i apparently don’t fit into the humour/haha funny box. or maybe i wasn’t funny enough. thekla told me afterwards i should have chosen the lifestyle category for my blog. mpfh. i of course liked the idea better that i was simply in the wrong box than the box i was in didn’t like me, but was too late in any case so i just didn’t think about it anymore.

so i read geraldine’s post about how she not a lifestyle blogger, but how she wanted to give it a go and attempted to make a crostata and document the whole process. now that was something i can relate to. sort of. i thought crostata was something like a crostini, i definitely didn’t take it for some kind of pie. my bad. her not reading the recipe and thus not having all the ingredients is also something i can relate. i would make a bad lifestyle blogger because i never use recipes to begin with. it already drove one ex-boyfriend insane, i can only imagine what it would do to a lifestyle blogger’s readership.

so as you can read her crostata making wasn’t  going so well, but there was lots of liquor involved and a failed attempt at caramel making, both things i can appreciate too. let’s just remember the fish cake incident of 2011 and the easter egg shaped macarons for a moment.

so that’s why i adore her. sometimes i need aspiration and sometimes i want to relate and just know that thank god there are others out there like me.

and don’t get me wrong – i love lifestyle blogs, in fact most blogs i read can probably be labelled accurately as such. i love them, not in an ironic way, but in a i truly love to read about this person’s life way. i find it inspiring. i would like to be such an inspiration for others too maybe. but there comes the time when i have to admit a life with a certain style a lifestyle blogger doesn’t make. my toe nails might be painted nicely, but there is nothing picture worthy about the process; to be honest it’s quite gross. and while i do enjoy wearing and buying nice clothes, i don’t have a significant other who will take decent pictures of me in my nice clothes. neither do i have a child trustworthy enough that i would hand it my canon or any child at all for that matter. actually i hate to have my picture taken ALWAYS and if you tell me to stand up straight, tuck my ribs, pull my belly in, and lift my chin, that’s the face you get:

thank you, thekla, my wonderful friend. no, i am not being sarcastic, the others turned out wonderful, but were quite a bit of work and if i had to pose for pictures on a daily basis i would be a proper alcoholic. now you will rightly say that a lot of lifestyle bloggers don’t pose in their shots, they are just being snapped. yeah, well, those girls don’t have a double chin problem and uneven arm skin tones.

one of my favourite with no such issues is james from bluebird. she and her husband are the quintessential hipsters. but really original hipsters, not just someone who lives in brooklyn and wears a beard that doesn’t suit him. no, she bakes bread and cake, she has chickens in her garden, homeschools her 4 kids, and still always looks fabulous and wears essie nail polish in awesome shades. i get tired when i have to do homework with my friend’s daughter for 10 minutes so i really don’t know how she does it and then some.

another must have if you are a lifestyle bloggers are series or features and a blogging calendar. yes, we all know how my attempts at having series worked out and if i don’t even find the time to stick to my series, i wouldn’t know where to find time to make calendar. sorry.

if i had a calendar and would have looked at it, i would have noticed that i did already write about the fact that i don’t have a lifestyle blog. in fact i wrote about it in such detail that i named my blog  a random, somewhat funny blog with stories about wine, pasta, yoga and failed dates. but i don’t have a calendar; otherwise i would also know that i have probably already blogged about the fact that i frequently write the same posts twice. that’s how not organized and unscheduled i am. and i am aware that is a big no-no for a lifestyle blogger and i can wear all the hip orange/red lipstick and hair buns in the world it wouldn’t make up for it.

so no, i am not a lifestyle blogger and probably won’t ever be. i’m just me in my little box full of random, somewhat funny stories about wine, pasta, yoga and failed dates. and as long as there are some others who are in equal random boxes i am okay with that.

to think or not to think.

 

technically i am still in my post-holiday-blues phase, but i am taking it one day at a time now and so this morning i woke up and after checking twitter in bed (yes, i know it’s sad…) i found myself with a sudden surge of energy. i not only took a shower and exfoliated my face, i even put on body lotion and drank my green juice without cringing. 

now i made it to the office and now sit in my boss’ slankie as she is away and i am FREEZING and do admin. hurrah for productivity.

remember when i wrote on holiday that i really didn’t do much thinking while i was away. my idea was to sit somewhere quietly at angkor wat, maybe reading my book, but rather contemplating life, meditating next to a monk, and definitely writing down some profound thoughts in my little notebook…let’s just say that i found it a silly plan in hindsight. angkor wat was way too crowded to sit anywhere quietly, being close to a monk now made me nervous after i had learned they don’t wear underwear, and i only used the notebook once to write down someone’s email address. and it continued from there; i was always just in the moment, always doing something, seeing something, and yes, usually eating something. and to my surprise that was delightful. being in the moment really rocks and thinking and pondering are a bit overrated.

but now i’m back. there is a lot going on in me at the moment and my head has decided to sort it all out in one go and do all the thinking all at once. so i feel a bit overwhelmed right now and the only time i don’t think is when i watch orange is the new black, so i have been doing lots of that to give my head a break. what i have not been doing in addition to all the thinking is tell you stories and show you pictures and while i feel bad about it and people have started to complain, rightfully so because i promised, there is not much i can do about it at the moment. i will keep pinkie swearing that the stories and the photos will come, because i can tell the thinking will come to an end soon and some decisions will be made. in the meanwhile i will share some pictures that my lovely and obviously more organized travel companions have posted.

 

from top:
halong bay after the rain. that one is from me. i am quite proud of it actually. how beautiful is this place even during typhoon season? (and no, we didn't have a typhoon, i just like to pretend because it sounds more exciting)
teletubbies at the cu chi tunnels. of course it started raining the second we got out of the bus. so we decided to at least colour coordinate our ponchos.
that's my "is that really a snake in there and i am supposed to drink it?" face. yes, it really was a snake and no, i politely declined.
beer with a view. almost got police raided too. excitement in saigon!
my milli vanilli leopard pants, tailor-made in hoi an. seamstress didn't even blink an eye when i chose my fabric.

picture perfect.

Before I even start this post I want to say – all is good. I am not complaining, I am not sad, I am not annoyed...I am just a bit exhausted from my day and I am writing to reflect why that is.

Today I got up “early” (I won't tell you what that means for me, because all of you will hate me) the second day in the row as we had a company photo shoot which got postponed from yesterday when I got up “early” the first time around. Yes, we are the people who are always behind the lens, but today it was our turn to shine for our new website. Meh.

I absolutely hate having my picture taken. When I was sixteen my brother, the professional and very awesome and talented photographer, put me in front of a big light and agreed to take my passport picture. Oh the honor and the joy! Finally a passport picture that would show my real beauty and get me upgrades and make anybody who would see it instantly fall in love with me. Or so I thought. Well lit or not, I hated the picture and told my brother as much. It was never intended as a reflection on his skill, but always about my face, so I thought he should have responded in kind. Call it an older brother phenomenon, but he only said “well, I can only be as good as the model”.

Ever since I have refused to be in front of a camera unless being fed copious amount of drinks first. Or have someone with photoshop skills on hand. Or have someone who loves me direct my chin lovingly into an angle that makes it disappear. Preferably all of the above at once.

When people tell me how photogenic I am I feel insulted. To me they just called me ugly, because if that’s how I really look like live, oh boy… Guys, I am not being self-deprecating because most days I look at myself in the mirror I am perfectly fine with the view. It is really the reflection in pictures that I don't enjoy nor do I think it is a fair representation of me.

So you can imagine how not excited I was having to wake up early, again, and have my picture taken. By the way I should add that a guy, who I was once madly in love with and who broke my heart and who himself is still to my now unloving eye utterly gorgeous, was our photographer. Now can you please feel a bit sorry for me?

But yes I managed. I honestly didn't care about the pictures too much. I was so worried about my double chin showing up that I forgot my eyes really wrinkle when I smile a lot. Fuck.

So tonight I just feel exhausted, but I don't I don't want to whine. Life is utterly good to me right now and just sitting here right now I remember a post I read thismorning. Which asked us to list things we love about ourselves. I replied and wrote: I love the reflection of my body in a Bikram class. I wear shorts that are probably too short and too tight for my body type, but I can move in them. And so I look at this body of mine that is moving and that can do things, that is breathing and that is strong and healthy. That body of mine that is dripping sweat and that face of mine that is read and that hair – let's just say it is worse than usual - but I see all of it and I do feel beautiful.

And now while I'm lying in bed I look over at my little 'wall' and there is this one picture of my friend Sam and myself. He hugs me and kisses my forehead. The whole pictures, at least me in it, is so far from perfect and I could take it apart for you, yet all I see is my smile, my friend who loves me and my beautiful Lanvin dress.

And then I remember a conversation I had a long time ago with a friend in New York who asked me if it wasn't depressing to work with beautiful models all the time. But mainly I still remember my reply: no, if I had the choice I'd always rather be the stylist than the model. At least as stylist I get to create and do and think and not just stand there and have someone dress me. - I really want to add here that I have met many amazing women over the years, models, who work hard and are beautiful and smart and funny. Why would someone not use her strong suits whether it be an affinity for science, a love for words, or a great bone structure to make a living or a career? I have also learned that it doesn't matter how beautiful someone is to the rest of the world, they can still feel like an ugly duckling on the inside - However the truth is there are makers and doers and dreamers in this world and models are usually the ones being used as a canvas to reflect these people's work. And so when it comes to this I still always rather be a maker, a doer, and a dreamer than a beautiful canvas. In my case I rather create a lasting impression with my words than with my face. Even though that face of mine is a great one.

Part Einstein, part Lion Pose. 

the random story of how micky ate dicky.

yesterday was horrible. i don’t even know why but everything brought tears to my eyes and in the end i just ended properly crying for no good reason. i decided that i shouldn’t be amongst people so in the question of wine or yoga, wine with pasta and dvds won. though it may not have been the healthiest choice, it seemed to be what i needed as today i woke up with lots of energy and the drive to get things done.

after editing some stories for a travel blog that i would love to contribute for, i went through my pictures to select some to go with the stories. i stumbled upon some old ones that i haven’t shared here, so i thought i’d make a little picture post.

i give you random pictures that have nothing in common but make me happy:

 my wonderful friend marie and i at noordhoek beach. that’s what happens when the photographer tells you to make a scary face and jump. marie just had the most beautiful baby girl and named her anni, which of course i am totally claiming credit for. i cannot wait to meet her.

i was a hipster taking shoe pictures long before instagram. i may start a series. i have another one where my shoe is dangling over a volcano.

this was taken on my first real solo trip to the seychelles. since i like travelling on my own i have the unfortunate tendencies to take selfies, also pre iphone and screen turning options. here i luckily opted to ask someone. i have since realized it is actually nice to have a decent picture of myself in a place that i liked, touristy or not. have i mentioned i used to have baby turtles? micky and dicky were they names and within a week of getting them i already regretted it and wasn’t sad when micky eventually ate dicky and we returned him/her to the pet store (we returned micky only as they didn’t want to take half eaten turtle remains). the only surprise was that micky ate dicky as he/she was half the size of dicky (dick = fat in german). however the little one in the picture i liked lots.

my dad and i on christmas two years ago. we are both total suckers for christmas as you can see. and though he is not getting any younger - his words not mine - he has just booked a flight to come down again. i am beyond excited for family christmas and a trip to zanzibar with him!

drop your hip, annika! but besides this technicality i love this picture. yoga in the desert, pucci scarf in the hair, prada on the nose.

there is a guy who has a picture taken of him doing a split jump in front of famous buildings and sites all over the world. i think i want to do that too from now on, only with standing bow pose as i am much more a standing bow poser than a split jumper in general. first up is the reclining buddha and then angkor wat . till then find me at the yoga studio where i practise dropping my hip…

Picture perfect.

It is only Wednesday, but the week already feels very old. I have done much, thought much, talked much. Today I will be myself much. I will clean my beautiful little flat, I will organize, I will cook Moroccan meatballs yet again, I will finally watch Games of Throne, paint my fingernails peach orange, and enjoy being by myself.

To keep everyone else amused in the meanwhile here are the promised pictures from our Stellenbosch trip, taken with Julia’s cool iPhone… I want one too! It would make everything in life so much prettier! Strictly Apps speaking of course, because Siri still sounds like a ditz who doesn’t know left from right…

Funny face.

This is for Jazmin, who always says I have a funny face.

Like everybody I know, I hate having my picture taken. I blame my brother. He, a professional fashion photographer, agreed to take my passport picture when I was 16. I was obviously hoping that he could do what the official passport picture machines never manage: make me beautiful in 35x45mm (standard German passport picture size in case you are wondering). I saw my picture which he took, hated it and accused him bitterly of being a bad photographer. His reply: A photographer is only as good as the model he has. My ego was bruised and ever since I blame him for my unwillingness to be in front of a camera.

Last weekend I decided it was time to grow some balls though and finally have my picture taken for this blog. I chose the best person possible for this mission impossible: my friend Thekla. Some knowledge about photography, a good camera and most important of all – she always sees me with a loving eye and tells me when to lift my chin.

A couple of hours later it was mission accomplished and it didn’t even hurt. Here are the funny face take-outs:

From top left: Funny fish face, Why is the sun always shining?, Yes, I am a supermodel, I ate too much pizza, What the heck is he doing?, Get it off!

The picture I finally decided on will be up here soon. It was a hard battle to pick the right one, but in the end I picked that ONE because it is just very me: Sporting a slight ironic smile, showing bra strap, messy hair up, and sunglasses* – me in a nutshell. And also it is quite cute.  At least I like to think so. Dare to disagree!

*Another item on the What I Wore Today list which I forgot and is quite essential. I think I need to re-do that list...