Cars in Como

Forever ago, in May, we took a weekend trip to Lake Como.

The lake was lovely but we were on a mission and had to remain focused.

We were not there to see the lake, you see.

Even though it was beautiful.

We were there to see cars.

Little cars that have traveled long distances.

Tiny bubble cars.

Cars with faces.

Cars with their own accessories.

And cars with wings.

And nice rear ends.

And senses of humor.

There were cars from home (the VD is a common issue)

And cars with awesome graphics.

They demanded appreciation.

From all ages.

I fell in love with this one.

The details were breathtaking.

My favorite photo of the trip. If this isn't a reason to learn to drive a manual transmission then I don't know what is...

On Self Control

Boy do I love old things. I love old things so much that I have had to have a serious talk with myself about the very finite amount of space in our apartment and how accumulating old cool objects at my current rate will end with me becoming the star of a Hoarders episode. My new rule for myself is that any object purchased must be functional in some way. No more dustables.

But.....there's always a but.

We went to a brocante this weekend with my family and I fell hard for this vintage Swiss army lantern (and a whole bunch of other army things...between the five of us we left that tent outfitted for all manner of apocalyptic adventures) and really felt that I could not continue to live life without it. From my limited understanding of the vendor, I need to find a somewhat medium sized, square-ish battery type thing and then fill the rest of the space with cotton and it will work. So it's not functional...yet. But it will be! I can also clip it to my belt for maximum fashion points.

The same cannot be said for the nineteenth century blank ledger book that I also ended up buying...but really, there was no other way around it. I also amended The Rule to read as follows: no restraint need be exercised when confronted with awesome old ledger books. Or old photos. Or vintage medic armbands...

Where were we?

I ended up taking the summer off from blogging without intending to take the summer off from blogging. Luckily all the reasons for the lack of swan photos have been overwhelmingly good

(family visiting, friends visiting, fulfilling work, a new found interest in running to counterbalance my astronomical cheese consumption, etc.)

All this to say, that I will try and get my act together and get back to posting in a more regular-ish fashion. In the meantime, please accept this photo of a hood ornament as a peace offering.

I hope your summers have kept you all busy and happy as well :)

Paris Part 4: The day my wallet suffered

Sidenote: So June happened. It was filled with work and work and more work and a bit where I flew home and surprised my dad on his birthday and spent five wonderful days hanging out with my family. So now I am back and settled and can finally finish posting the rest of my Paris photos. Onward!

Towards the end of our first day in Paris, we stumbled into the Marais, home to the most amazing door ever.

By that point, we were too tired to explore the area with any diligence so over beers and potato chips, we decided to come back the following day and give the historical area a closer look.

I don't remember much after stepping through the doors of this glorious stationary store. I vaguely recall pulling items off the shelves and then handing over my credit card...probably not the most responsible of moments but I care not. Because, after four years of searching, I finally found an awesome portfolio.

Refueling is highly necessary during shopping excursions.

Wine at lunch - only on vacation.

Before moving here, I was not a huge fan of beef. I liked it, but never craved it. Now, however I can't get enough of it...the rarer the better. I've also been smuggling jars of Boar's Head Horseradish Sauce in from the states - it is a perfect complement to beef carpaccio

(meanwhile, Italians the world over feel a twinge in their hearts...I can't help it, I love horseradish. On everything. I do not discriminate.).

This is me doing my very best pensive orphan* impression.

Anthony bought a pair of amazing vintage sunglasses that I tried unsuccessfully to steal. Here he is looking debonair in them.

After dinner we decided to stroll down to see the Eiffel Tower.

We passed by this schmancy caviar and vodka emporium. I love the red and teal outside.

"Why don't we take a ride to the top?" We asked each other. "It's 10 PM, the line probably isn't too long."

AHAHAHAHAHAHAHA.

Oh the folly of innocence. Had we decided to wait in line for the elevator to the top, we would still probably be there, over a month later, no closer to the front.

So we did the quicker option: walk across the river and take in the view from afar. Totally worth it.

*The Pensive Orphans is the name of my someday hipster band. The uniform will be vests and mustaches and we will sing songs with titles like 'St. John's Eco-velocipede' and 'Miss Mary upset the Soup Tureen...again'. It will be pretty underground, so if you never hear about it, it's probably because you're too mainstream. Or because I am all talk. One of the two.