OUTFIT: BLACK AND WHITE AND STARS ALL OVER

Oh boy, it's been awhile since I've posted an outfit. I guess the whole "style blogging" thing seems kind of silly to me unless you're going to commit to it full time... and who has time for that? Fourteen year old girls in Hong Kong do.

Anyway, here are a few items that have been on repeat in my life lately. The dress was a score from the Tibi sample sale and I feared that it was too late in the year (late-May) for a purchase with sleeves, but it's been great with the odd weather that's plagued this "summer" so far.

The shoes are from the Prabal Gurung x Target collab and are my official summer 2013 nobrainer shoes. They're so simple, I won't even explain them.

The tote was purchased for work, since it's laptop-sized and rather sleek, but I find myself sneaking it into my non-work life.

Dress, Tibi | Sunglasses, Warby Parker | Cuff, vintage | Bag, Alexander Wang | Sandals, Prabal Gurung x Target

COLORS OF MEXICO

I think I returned from Mexico five weeks ago—maybe six—and I'm still not done posting pictures. Hey, I'm a busy gal!

This post is all about the incredible colors of Mexico. My New York City eyes were happy to bathe in coral, orange, peach, and fuchsia for a week.

After awhile, white became the most exotic thing to see.

SELECTED ADVENTURES IN MEXICO

Whoops! Forgot to finish posting my Mexico pictures. Here are a few of my favorite adventures. They're all iPhone pictures, because usually adventures happen when you leave your fancy camera at home.

1.  Stumbled into the market and mustered up just enough Spanish to order fresh pressed grapefruit juice.

2.  If you order 350 pesos (about $28) by the pool, the fivestar Rosewood Hotel will let you use their pool. I relaxed in my cabana while my pool boy, Javier, kept the margarita glass full.

3. On a very hot afternoon, we climbed to the top of a mountain to a mansion where a friend was housesitting and watched the sun set.

4. My last day in Mexico was spent at the hot springs!

DAY TRIP TO GUANAJUATO

One benefit to waiting almost two years to visit your best friend in the foreign city they've relocated to: by the time you get there, they know all the best stuff to do. For Sunday's adventure, Nina suggested a day trip to Guanajuato.

First things first: breakfast. The above is my second session of huevos rancheros (the first being the prior day's airport meal, sigh), accompanied by coffee, fresh juice, and fruit, all to the tune of 45 pesos. Google tells me that's $3.73. Mexico rules. 

Nina has her brekkie with a cafe de olla—a coffee with cinnamon and brown sugar that's sweet-but-not-syrupy—a taste of which changes my worldview.

Now, Guanajuato. 

Taco stand at the bus depot in San Miguel. No comment necessary.

Check that kid imitating that man hehehe.

The ride is a little over an hour. Once we arrive, we grab a taxi and zoom though the network of underground tunnels.

Above ground and on foot, we take a pitstop at a bridged cafe.

Next, a trip up a big, big hill for rewarding views. Fact: everyone loves "a great view."

Finally found a purpose for the iPhone's panorama feature!

And now, we have earned lunch.

And micheladas. Glorious, enormous micheladas.

We do a bit more sightseeing:

Eventually, it's time to catch the bus back to San Miguel. I leave you with a few snaps from the road:

GETTING TO MEXICO

Mexico! I did it! 

My childhood bestie, Nina, has lived in San Miguel de Allende for nearly two years and I finally made it down to visit her. Of course I took a zillion pictures, ate til it hurt, and engaged more than one middle aged man in broken-English/Spanish conversation. When in Mexico...

First things first: my wonky journey. Yup, this blog is going full-on diary—buckle up.

I left home at roughly 4am on Saturday. 

I'll spare you the part where I run to gate B8 in Dallas for my fifteen minute layover only to realize it's fucking D8 (Goddamn Texan-accented flight attendant!!!!!!). 

When I finally touched down in Mexico I saw the man above with the gun and the wheelchair and deplaned, grinning and knowing, like, no Spanish. Hola, gracias, lo siento.

After the easiest customs ever, a starving and exhausted me is delighted by this very tranquil airport:

I mean, just look at that. They don't even have all of the lights on. Sun reflects onto the glossy floor. There is no one waiting. This couldn't be any LESS LaGuardia.

Next up: find my shuttle driver. Long story short: I booked the wrong freaking day and it's going to be FOUR HOURS until the next shuttle. Nina lives about an hour and a half from the airport and a cab would run around $100. I'm starving. This is unfortunately my first meal in Mexico:

Somewhere over my second piece of gum, a man walks up to me and starts speaking alarmingly perfect English. Delirious me can only make sense of about a third of his words and my New York slash childhood "don't talk to strangers" guard is starting to crumble. He's waiting for his wife and kids, who are also way late, and recognizes me from the tiny regional plane we took from Texas to Mexico. We decide to get something to eat at the airport restaurant. My second meal in Mexico is at the freaking airport restaurant.

After a plate of airport huevos rancheros and two cups of coffee, I feel so much more alive. I have a long, good talk with my new friend and the entire time I try to decode signs of being conned. Nope, just a nice guy and he even pays for my meal so I guess I inadvertantly conned him. I meet his family when they come to pick him up, and then I wait for the shuttle. Myself and three other gringos share the ride to San Miguel. Each is pleasently colorful, but I think the elderly man who flew his typewriter with him from Dallas and doesn't pay American taxes (but does collect Social Security) takes the cake.

At last, hours and hours later than planned, I wind up at Nina's apartment.

She has made me this welcome banner. I couldn't be happier to be "home."

She makes me tacos. Fresh juice. And opens a beer. Now I could not feel more "home."

After a bit of decompressing, we head out with one of her friends. I quickly fall in love with the city, which looks European, but rendered in Mexican colors. The climate is Palm Springs. There are more restaurants per capita than Manhattan. It's hilly as San Francisco and loaded with tricky cobblestones and narrow, narrow streets. Definitely a great place to sprain an ankle.

We go out for ceviche and ginger margaritas, followed by a rooftop bar, then beers at a cantina, and finally late night al pastor tacos (my absolute favorite). Twenty-four long, winding, well-spent hours. I sleep like a rock.