First of all, I'm back! After over a month of traveling around Australia (so much to share from that trip -- stay tuned), I finally landed back in New York this past Friday. Mind you, the Bomb Cyclone that hit the East Coast last week had other plans, definitely making my return trip an interesting and anxiety-inducing one, but that's a story for another day. But man, it feels good to be home and sleeping in my own bed.
Secondly, I have to admit, the start of 2018 has been a bit slower than what I would have liked. Admittedly, much of the first few days of the year were spent traveling and battling storms with very dramatic names and the jet lag that inevitably followed, so I can't be too hard on myself. Instead, I've been forcing myself to enjoy the chance to sit back, reflect and really think about this past year and what my hopes are for 2018 -- a luxury that sometimes I take for granted. You may have caught my one and only goal for the year here, that being to share much more of my writing -- and that one still very much so stands -- but naturally, it begs the question, what is it that I want to cultivate here on This Time Tomorrow? More importantly, what is it you want to see cultivated on This Time Tomorrow?
This, of course, got me thinking that I've never officially conducted a reader survey here on the blog. I know, I know. Reader surveys always call to mind random pop-up windows that you automatically want to click out of, and while I 99% of the time would agree with you there, I can't tell you how much it would mean to me if you could fill this 20 question survey out. Many of the questions are multiple choice and all free form text responses are optional, so it really should only take 10 minutes tops of your time. Not to mention, I'd be eternally grateful. And good karma is good karma, right?
Mainly, I want to understand how I can make this more of a community of women for women -- more of a two-way conversation vs. a one-sided platform. And I think we can easily build that together.
On a gingham kick like me? Great. Here's a few of my favorites from around the web shopping aisles these days. It's like Dorothy grew up, moved away from Kansas and started wearing crop tops.
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I take my Taco Tuesdays very seriously. So seriously in fact, I get gussied up for the occasion. On that note, who's ready for an early ceviche and fish taco lunch? First round of margaritas is on me.
There's a favorite T.S. Eliot quote of mine and it goes like this:
"At the still point, there the dance is."
While we could discuss (at great length, I'm sure) what this excerpt means to each of us, I simply wanted to share how much it's actually impacted me on this particular trip to Paris with my mother. While seemingly every memory, every sunset, every skyline, every meal is inevitably documented for some social channel or another, I can't tell you how comforting it was to just sit back this past week and be present. With my mom. And snap photos when I felt like it. And just be a tourist when I felt like it. And just be a daughter when I felt like it (OK, I was a daughter the entire time, to be fair). And just let my inbox get a bit messy. And share when I wanted to. And not share when I didn't feel like it.
I'm by no means complaining or bemoaning what I (and plenty of other entrepreneurial millennials) do. In fact, I love it. And of course, I shared bits and pieces of my trip along the way. I'm just saying it's nice to take a step back from time to time and appreciate the dance, even in the still moments. It's necessary.
That said, I'm officially checking out of our Paris home away from home tomorrow morning with renewed vigor and some pretty sore legs from the marathon, ready to tackle some exciting projects, BIG updates and a lot more personal writing pieces. Some good, some not so good and some just downright weird (which hopefully makes them even better?). You be the judge.
In the meantime, I meant it when I said it last time, watch this space. Plenty more to come!
Apologies for the lack of normalcy around these parts. There are a few (big) exciting things in the works that I'll be sharing very soon -- but in the meantime, I'm just trying to stay afloat while gearing up for the final week before my marathon in Paris next Sunday. I'm excited to be hopping over the pond (this time with my mom!), for a long overdue visit to the city of light. My last trip to Paris was as a broke college student and it happened to be the middle of February (it snowed on us while we went to the top of the Eiffel). This time around, I'm looking forward to some spring rain as we hop from cafe to cafe.
Watch this space -- more to come very soon, I promise!
"Two drifters off to see the world. There's such a lot of world to see."
Sometimes there's moments that literally make me stop in my tracks. Have you ever experienced that? A slightly surreal, out-of-body consciousness that overcomes you -- where you have to remind yourself to rejoin the moment, instead of appreciating it from the outside? I can vividly recount some of these moments on two hands -- Easter morning at the Vatican when the Pope came out to address the morning mass, floating high above Cappadocia, Turkey in a hot air balloon, saying a prayer at the Western Wall -- for a few minutes, you're suspended, almost waiting for the other shoe to drop, but until it does, you sit and smile and revel in it.
And sometimes these moments aren't all that significant in the scheme of things either. Take an afternoon at Central Park, for instance, on one of those early spring days that lure New Yorkers out of their winter habitations. Nothing out of the ordinary. Just sunshine on your face and the promise of spring around you. And then you happen to stumble your way over to Bethesda Terrace, as children run by, street performers are dancing and one solo guitar player is strumming "Moon River" ever so gently into the early afternoon air.
It's enough to make you stop. In your tracks. And hope that no one wakes you up from your daze.
It was election night, November 4, 2008, around roughly 8pm in Reno, Nevada. At this point in the day, I had already been waiting outside several polling places for hours -- schools, community centers -- where children's artwork scattered the hallways -- while inside voters quietly cast their ballots. What was I doing exactly? I had already cast my vote earlier that day, proudly wearing my "I voted" sticker across my chest, and was now politely stopping people as they exited, asking them who they had voted for as part of the Sparks Tribune live exit poll update. For context, Reno and Sparks, both situated in Washoe County, were contested cities in a contested county, that could literally swing Democratic or Republican at the drop of a hat -- in turn, swinging Nevada Blue or Red. And yes, possibly, definitively swinging the election in favor of Obama or McCain. And in some small way, at least to me, I was in the middle of it, waiting to see how it would all pan out.
I stood there, idly, texting my editor all the while, notepad in hand, waiting for moms, dads, college students and grandparents alike to shuffle past me as they left. "McCain" and "Obama" got casually thrown around left and right, as I furiously notched away tally marks on my notepad. From what I could tell that evening, and from what I could sense in the weeks leading up to the election, it was anyone's game. And my tally marks sat there, staring back at me, as if shrugging their shoulders in agreed confusion. I called the evening at 9pm, updated my editor with my rough tally marks and exit quotes, and headed to my next assignment for the evening -- to cover the Democratic watch party at a nearby hotel/casino, as a colleague of mine went to cover the Republican watch party. I don't think that I could have wished for a better venue to cover the election. Everyone needs to go to a casino at least once in their life, or if this isn't possible, you could always look at sites like bossku club and the games they have on offer because this becoming an even more popular way to earn more money. Of course, I didn't have time to check out the games that were in the vicinity, so I may need to get my fix online instead. But for now, I had more pressing concerns to worry about.
"Your love keeps lifting me higher..." a deep, recorded Jackie Wilson's voice belted over the loudspeakers as I entered that grand ballroom at the Grand Sierra. Large TV screens set up around the room had every major television network blaring live updates as states reported their vote counts. Blue and red lighting up the United States map like a paint by numbers set. The room had this palpable energy, buzzing with electricity and purpose -- a common goal uniting young and old, of different backgrounds and races together. I took it all in (as unbiased as possible, since I was on assignment), but it was hard not to get swept up in it. I took a spot on the floor, cross legged, to watch CNN and listened to the conversations going on around me. Absorbing every little detail of the evening that I could.
Now, it's been years since that evening and I can't tell you what I was wearing and the boyfriend who met me there that night is no longer in my life, but I still vividly remember two elderly African American women sitting in front of me, also on the floor, their arms wrapped around each other, slightly rocking back and forth. As Nevada reported their results (Blue!) and other western states followed suit, I watched their reaction, taking breaks from clasping hands to clapping their hands, until finally the election was called -- and Obama had won. I watched them both break into tears and an infectious laughter simultaneously.
And I couldn't help but tear up at the sight of it, as Jackie Wilson continued to play on the overhead speakers.
I still think of that night every time I've gone to go vote since then, and in some way, in sharing this story, I hope it makes you think of a time when you realized your voice and your vote mattered, too. Regardless of what party, candidate or issue you support, it makes a difference. You make a difference.
Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to drop off my voter registration form for the state of New York in the mail.
I mentioned this on Instagram the other day, but the next few weeks I'll be hopping around a lot. Last week's cruise in the Caribbean kicked things off, I'm currently in NYC this week until Friday, when I bounce to SF for a few days (to do my taxes and a fun video project) and finally, Paris for a week (and that marathon I've been training for). Needless to say, my bags are in a state of unpacked/packed limbo at the moment, my laundry pile is embarrassingly high and my email inbox, even higher.
Despite the crazy long to-do list before I leave again, I can't wait to set things into motion. I like to think I'm at my best when things around me are moving quickly and I'm working under deadline -- I think it's the former news reporter side of me kicking in. I used to love working in a newsroom (and often find myself missing it) -- the pace, the adrenaline, the feeling after a long deadline night wrapping up. I loved that no two days were the same, there was always a new source to talk to, a new location to hop over to and a new story to tell. It was chaotic and frantic and yet, somehow comforting once you saw it all in print the next day.
It's a former life that I miss from time to time -- one that I think I'll need to return to eventually in some capacity. Until then, it reminds me of this excerpt from a poem I came across on @FrassyAudrey's Instagram the other day (she has beautiful stuff, you should really go follow). The poet is Lang Leav and the excerpt goes:
"Sometimes I picture all my other selves, standing in line like a row of dominoes; separate but part of the same disjointed whole. How can I hold a single one accountable?"
Raise your hand if whenever you walk alongside the perimeter of Central Park, you can't help but think of one of the last scenes of Cruel Intentions when Ryan saves Reese? Yeah, me too.
Confession: I don't like being in photos. Never have. And likely, never will.
Now, this may seem strange considering I write a blog where I post photos of myself, every day. Actually, it may seem pretty counterintuitive. Or perhaps even neurotic that I, someone who shies away the camera, could keep up with this for over 7 years. And it's something that I thought would get easier with time (and in some ways, it has), but the bottom line remains, if my photographer and I shoot together for longer than 20 minutes, I get anxious.
It's not that I necessarily hate the process of taking the photos (I mean, we hopped down to the subway the other day and had a lot of fun dodging crowds and capturing the movement of the trains). I really do love the art direction and story telling involved in it. What sets me off is more the idea of my face being in the shots -- it leaves me unsettled. Suddenly, my insecurities, as if I'm a teenager all over again, come flooding to the forefront of my mind. "Who do you think you are? You're not tall enough to pull this off. This angle is all wrong for you and your arms. Everyone can see how awful your skin looks here." And I don't think I'm preaching anything new or surprising here. We've all been in this position: our critic and sometimes our biggest enemy, is ourselves. Especially when it comes to our self-image.
As I've entered my late 20s and now early 30s, I've gotten much better at quieting these doubts and self-inflicted insults. I know where they stem from, I know that most of them are only in my head and I know the ones that perhaps have some truth behind them, are by no means, worthy of ruining my day or my outlook. I'm a healthy, active 30 year old living my longtime dream of writing and living in New York, with many other blessings in my life to be thankful for. If I happen to breakout or I'm not feeling as thin or as toned as I would hope in a certain dress, it's a first world problem and I need to put into perspective as such.
Of course, I'll be the first to admit, it's not easy to do every day. Especially with the ease to which social media makes comparing your life to this person or that person -- it's a relatively slippery slope, even for the most positive of people (which I do consider myself one), to not slide down. As supportive and accepting as I think we can be of others (again, not a perfect situation either), we still hold ourselves to these unrealistic expectations of what we think we should look like and be like -- and, unsurprisingly, always coming up short and disappointed.
And we're usually the first and the only people to point it out about ourselves.
That said, when Dove approached me about their latest #SpeakBeautiful campaign, I couldn't have nodded my head faster. In an effort to change how we portray self-worth and self-image online, Dove has developed an algorithm that will essentially measure your 6 month Twitter history, looking for key words and phrases, to provide insight into how your words impact others. And whether you recognize it or not, words are powerful. So powerful. And the minute we can start impacting the tide of how women view their own beauty and body-image and empowering them to take control of it, I think we will have turned a pivotal corner. But it starts first with recognition.
I received my results just the other day and found the data breakdown fascinating. In general, my tweets have an overwhelming positive sentiment to them, and those pertaining to beauty and body-image, were actually 7% more positive (hey, go me!). But what I found even more interesting, were the simple take away actions. As it turns out, my positive tweet time window is between 6 and 8am, meaning, I'm more likely to say something body-image positive during this time, whereas most women, are more prone to tweet something negative about themselves between 9am and noon. And I totally get that. It's the grind of the morning, schlepping to work, rushing to that meeting without getting a chance perhaps to put yourself together just the way you would have liked. I've been there more than I would like to admit. A little task I've given myself lately is when I like something about someone's outfit, or hair or general attitude/look, I tell them. Because it takes 5 seconds for me to say, and sometimes, it's all it takes to turn someone's day around.
Have you guys had your tweets analyzed? Were you surprised by your results?
This post was in collaboration with Dove. As always, all opinions and styling are my own. Thank you for supporting all This Time Tomorrow collaborations!
Grand Central has these amazing walkways that criss cross back and forth running the width of the expansive windows flanking both sides of the main concourse. As the day unfolds, with morning light peeking through and eventually splashing onto the floor down below, you can occasionally see someone walk across -- usually in a hurry -- from one side to the other. I'm not sure who has access to those walkways. I can only imagine it's a very important person, rushing to fix a very important detail to the very important train schedule of the day. Or perhaps they're just a very savvy New Yorker taking a shortcut we don't know about? Either way, I always find this fascinating. Down below, we're caught in the chaotic rush of morning traffic, unrelenting schedules and the ticking of a grand clock. And high above, there's a quiet escape route, untouched by the madness. Unruffled by the flurry. Unaffected by time.
I like to imagine that someday, I'll eventually get to sit up there to watch the morning spill over. And then I also like to imagine that there's someone down below, looking up at me and wondering, just what I'm doing up there.
Top and skirt: Nicholas (from last year, love this similar set here and here); Shoes: Steve Madden; Bag: Chanel; Sunglasses: Celine
SoHo, home to incredible cobblestone streets, dizzying fire escapes and some of the most dangerous shopping you'll ever do. If that's not reason enough to skip through the 'hood, then I don't know what is.
If you're just now joining this little black dress series, you can see my other LBD outfits here and here.
Perhaps it's the fact that my dad is a lawyer. Perhaps it's the fact that I always admired Atticus Finch from To Kill a Mockingbird. Perhaps I don't know the reason. But regardless, I've always loved courthouses. They look so regal and so polished; like nothing bad could ever happen to you there. And when that afternoon light happens to hit the New York State Supreme Courthouse down in FiDi, it's magic. Pure magic.
If you're just joining this little black dress series now, you can see yesterday's Tiffany's homage right this way.
Dress: Little Black Dress; Shoes: Saint Laurent; Coat: MM. LaFleur; Clutch: Vintage (gift from my sister); Necklace: Vintage (gift from my mom)
As you might have spotted on Instagram the other day, I'm currently out at sea with Celebrity Cruises (roaming around the Caribbean). But while I was away, I thought it might be fun to do a little tour of the city, that no matter where I go in the world, I'm always happen to return to: New York. There's something about touching down at JFK and seeing the skyline and the lights sparkle through the clouds below that gets my heart racing.
And since my heart gets racing for a little black dress as well, I wanted to pair the two together, a visual tour of the city in nothing but the most iconic dress any woman can own. An inseparable force. A dynamic duo, if you will.
First stop? Well grab your coffee, croissant and alligator shoes. We're heading to Tiffany's.
As someone from a relatively smaller town (well, Reno is called the Biggest Little City after all), there are a few things that would signify the start of summer for me, namely the first weekend camping trip of the season up to Lake Tahoe and the opening of the drive-in movie theater.
The latter holds a special place in my heart. There's just something so nostalgic about going to a drive-in theater -- the tuning of the radio station to the movie channel, grabbing popcorn and Junior Mints at the concession stand, cozying up with someone cute under a blanket as you settle in for your double feature under the stars on a warm summer evening.
Many of my weekend nights growing up were spent at the drive-in, with friends, with family and sometimes with that aforementioned cute someone. Each time, it made me experience the movie in a much different way than had I gone to a regular movie theater -- there's something much more tactile, experiential, sensory about it -- that makes even the most mundane of movies that much more enjoyable and memorable. Heck, I can still remember seeing one of the Transformers movies in college at the drive-in and while I can't stand that franchise (sorry, not sorry, Shia), I can still look back on that experience and my date at the time, and smile. I think it's why we love eating outdoors and drinking rosé the minute it hits 65 degrees outside. It transports us in a different way.
All of that being said, you can imagine it's been a few years since I've gone to the drive-in. And I do miss it. Dearly. So to my surprise and delight, the folks at Celebrity Cruises recently invited me to their take on the drive-in -- with a twist. As part of a new experiential initiative on a few of their cruise lines (primarily the Asia, Alaska, Caribbean Bermuda and South America trips), they're introducing A Taste of Film, a dinner and movie experience, where cruise goers can enjoy a movie screening under the stars on their rooftop terrace, while different courses, each paired in time with pivotal meal moments in the movie, are brought out to enjoy. Each film is selected for its relationship with and centering around food and a destination -- think along the lines of "Julie and Julia" or "Chocolat." For our evening just last week, we watched "The Hundred-Foot Journey," the story of a young Indian chef's journey to earn a coveted Michelin star. The cuisine, as you can imagine, blended Indian flair with French flourishes. And Michelin-star chef Cornelius Gallagher did not disappoint (my personal favorites included: the Jerusalem artichoke veloute and the lobster feuille de brique). They say smell is one of your strongest memory triggers. Well, the minute I smelled truffle coming out for one of our main dishes, I was sold. And will likely not be forgetting that movie, that meal or that experience of the two together anytime soon.
Huge thank you to Celebrity Cruises for inviting me and reminding me how much I love watching movies outdoors (especially when great food is involved along the way). And I can't wait to set sail with you this Sunday (stay tuned -- we're heading to the Caribbean soon!).
This post was in collaboration with Celebrity Cruises. As always, all opinions and styling are my own. Thank you for supporting all This Time Tomorrow collaborations!
You know what they say, you can take the New Yorkers out of New York, but you can't take the New York out the New Yorkers. Meaning, we will travel any and everywhere in a leather jacket. Even if the destination happens to be Austin and then a Caribbean cruise with Celebrity Cruises, which just so happens to be my travel schedule as of late. Luckily, I have one of my favorite partners in crime (and longtime friends -- can you believe we've been friends for 7 years?!), Christine with me for the better part of a week.
It's gonna be a busy next couple of days -- follow along on SnapChat to see more of what I'm up to (username: krystalbick). And in the meantime, while we're sailing next week, I have a fun week-long series coming to the blog, featuring some of my favorite little black dresses around iconic New York City haunts. Hint: it may or may not include me at some point eating breakfast a certain jewelry store.
Hope you all have a wonderful weekend! If I were you, I wouldn't make too many responsible decisions. 😉
Guys, it's supposed to be 72 degrees today in New York. If that's not enough reason to skip (instead of walk) wherever you're going, then I don't know what is.
Enjoy the sunshine, New Yorkers. I, for one, will be skipping up to Central Park today. Follow along on SnapChat (username: krystalbick) -- Lydia and I will be shooting more fun pieces from Sarah Lai today (she's the designer behind this amazing, pleated top I have on here).
Ladies (and gentleman), in honor of International Women's Day today (and every day), I pledge to help women both in this country and elsewhere to achieve their ambitions.
And for those who haven't seen it yet, I cannot recommend the documentary Half the Sky enough. I've rewatched several of the episodes a few times now already (and have cried progressively more each time) but the underlying sentiment gets me every time: as a population, as a country, as humanity, we're only as good as the talent and workforce and minds that we foster and support. If only half that population is being put to use (that being men), we're doing ourselves a disservice. It would be like living without half the sky above us.
And in no particular order, I give you, 20 confessions of a New York City subway rider:
I can never remember which trains are express and which make local stops. This usually results in me ending up many, many, many stops past where I originally intended to get off. Either deep Brooklyn or WAY Upper West. And I kinda end up feeling like this guy.
Is it weird that I feel bad for the PATH train? It's like the red headed stepchild in the MTA family.
I hate the revolving door subway entrances, mainly because it takes me a good 5-6 seconds figuring out which side has the gate arms that block your way. This has resulted in some embarrassing moments at rush hour.
I will probably judge you if I can a. hear your music b. see what you're reading on your kindle or c. spot you playing Candy Crush. And I fully expect you to do the same with me.
I follow @HotDudesReading on Instagram and I'm dying to snap a secret submission of mine own. The right guy just hasn't come along, I guess.
Dear Subway, You smell really funky during the summer.
Speaking of summer, interesting pedicures (or lack thereof) on the train when everyone is sporting their sandals. I'll let that one sit there for a while in awkward silence.
This is how I feel when I successfully tell a tourist what stop they need to get off at in order to get where ever they're going.
This is how I feel when a tourist asks me for directions and I have no clue what to tell them.
At any given time, I probably have 54 Metro cards just sitting in my apartment, scattered at the bottom of different bags and in the pockets of multiple coats. Most of them probably have balance on them, too.
I once saw Gabourey Sidibe on the A train.
My dream subway companion would be Daniel Radcliffe so he could rap this song while we kill time on the 1 train (one of the SLOWEST trains in the mornings).
I can't help but wonder, why was there NEVER a subway scene in SATC? #DeepThoughts
My favorite subway station artwork is at 50th Street and 7th Avenue, where they have Alice in Wonderland tile work.
Subway musicians get me every time. Especially if you're playing the cello. I'll probably just stay on past my stop to listen to you play.
If you happen to be standing in front of an open seat on a very crowded train, WHAT POINT ARE YOU TRYING TO PROVE, MISTER?
Randomly running into friends on the subway = one of those magical, serendipitous, "OMG, out of all the trains in NYC, you walked onto mine," moments.
Dear Men, if most of the population can abide by the subway manners that are outlined in all those ads, can you please, please, please stop sitting with your legs SPREAD wider than the Grand Canyon?
There are two types of subway riders: Those who LOVE making eye contact and holding it past the point of comfort. And those who AVOID eye contact like the plague. Unless you're Tom Hardy, I'm the latter.
For as much as I love to complain about you and threaten to take a cab or an Uber instead, you're pretty fucking awesome, subway. And cheap. So thanks for that.
Sometimes, when your to-do list is miles long before you head out of town, you just need to throw on some comfy flats, a newsboy cap to hide your unruly hair and some cropped flared jeans (for optimal skipping/jumping opportunities).
And blasting some Simon & Garfunkel certainly doesn't hurt either.
Happy weekend everyone! Or perhaps more appropriately put: happy weekend where we all stay in and watch Season 4 of House of Cards. 🙂
What can I say? As much as I love a midi length dress, I can always get behind showing a little thigh from time to time. Balance it out with a great pair of boots, a longer jacket and a quirky hat, well, to be honest, your friends might still sing out Pretty Woman to you while you're walking down the street, but hey, personally, I'll take any Julia Roberts comparisons I can get.
When I was much younger, I remember, every few months, my parents would go out for a nice dinner and possibly a theater date. My sister and I, with toys in tow, would be dropped off at our grandparents' house for a few hours. I remember loving these visits, because not only did it mean we could sneak a few extra cookies after dinner (at the approving wink of my grandpa) and stay up a bit later than normal (again, thanks grandpa!), but because I got to see my mom in this beautiful fur coat. There was something so elegant about it to me, almost queen-like, and I had to resist the urge to steal it from her closet on numerous occasions.
Fast forward a few (OK, a lot of years), and amidst packing up my life in San Francisco to head east to New York, my mom surprised me with this coat of hers. I was speechless. Not only is it still stunning in my eyes, but it reminded me of a little girl in awe of something seemingly out of reach. It goes without saying, it's the softest thing I own in my closet and on a few frigid days here in NYC during NYFW, it's proven it's functionality, too.
Whenever I can, I will always opt for faux. I can't speak to how the animals were treated in the making of this coat and I can't say that it's been passed down many generations. But I can say, I would like to start that tradition. I'd like to be able to someday pass this coat on to someone who appreciates it just as much as my mom did and as much as I will. I know that doesn't justify much, but with any luck, it won't have been in vain.
Shop my favorite faux fur coats right this way...
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Well, let's start with the fact that I'm utterly blown away. Blown away by the response to yesterday's post. Blown away by your sweet and kind words of support, encouragement and positivity. Blown away by your emails (I'm still going through them -- sorry for the delay!). Blown away by how good it feels to be so open and vulnerable about something like this and to know that, at the end of the day, we can all relate to each other.
And for that, I want to say thank you. Thank you for reminding me how much I love to write, especially about things I'm passionate about and thank you for reminding me that it's OK to not be perfect, despite what the internet might tell us. I, for one, am far from perfect and need to remind myself from time to time, that no expects me to be. And as one imperfect person to another, I don't expect you to be perfect either. In fact, here's to being perfectly imperfect! It feels pretty darn good, huh? Like a sigh of relief. A perfect sigh of relief.
First things first. I want to say, from the bottom of my heart, that I truly appreciate all your kind words and birthday wishes last Friday. To feel genuine connections today is rare and the fact I can share my little corner of the internet with you day to day and have it mean something to both of us -- to connect, to discuss, to commiserate, to support, to advise, to just BE, well that's nothing short of amazing to me. Truly. Thank you.
Secondly, but on a very related and open note, I wanted to talk about something that I've been dealing with and thinking about lately and that's self-image. Now, before this starts to sound like an eye-roll inducing after school special, I'd like to clarify a few things. This isn't where I get on a soap box and tell you the importance of self-image and self-worth. Because at the end of the day, I think we can all recognize just how important these things are and how very little they should depend on how we actually look and where we are in life, but our perspective on them. The tricky part, especially as I'm entering this phase where a lot of things in my life really are falling into place after years of hard work (knock on wood!), is how to address it when your perspective shifts. When things you can't control throw you a curve ball. When telling yourself that you're beautiful no matter what, gets a bit harder because of some new insecurity, big or small. When you just can't quiet the doubts that creep in, whether they're warranted or not.
Where am I going with this? Well in the spirit of being open and honest with you all, for the past two years, I've been struggling with some persistent hormonal acne, primarily along my jawline. What started out as seemingly normal breakouts around that time of the month, has now progressed into something a bit more concerning and cystic in nature. As someone who historically never really dealt with acne as a teenager, aside from the typical pimple that showed up from time to time, this has thrown me for a loop. A complete loop.
Now, you may be wondering as to why it hasn't ever really been a topic here on This Time Tomorrow, or perhaps all that noticeable in my photos. And that's the beauty of makeup coverage and strategic hair placement and me just generally shying away from closeups of my face (I get really nervous when Lydia gets too close to me with her camera). For that, I want to say that I wasn't intentionally trying to mislead anyone about my appearance. At the end of the day, I wanted my outfits to be the focus, and the fact my face happens to pop in from time to time, is just a byproduct.
In the whole scheme of things, I also realize my acne is by no means debilitating, and after many, many, many Google image searches looking for answers and explanations, I realize I'm much more on the mild to moderate side of the severity spectrum. Hence why it doesn't look all that obvious or noticeable in my photos. Does that mean my self-doubt doesn't creep in regularly? Of course not. Or that my insecurity doesn't control me sometimes? It definitely can and does - I've certainly considered visiting this dermatologist in beverly hills. Or that some self-loathing, despite my better judgement, doesn't get the best of me? Oh god, it certainly does. More than I would like to admit.
A bit dramatic? Perhaps. But isn't that the frustrating thing about insecurities? Sometimes, the things no one else really notices or cares about, are the things you blow out of proportion in our head. What used to be routine, like say, going to the coffee shop sans makeup, becomes an inner struggle of thinking everyone is staring JUST at your face. And your latest breakout.
It can be isolating to say the least -- especially when a lot of your friends (or perhaps amongst my circle of friends), aren't necessarily going through the same thing, you can really start to feel alone. I find this particularly interesting, given that, after a lot of internet research and chatting with my dermatologist at great length, this is actually a really common problem among women my age (due to a long list of hormonal factors that I'm not really qualified to write or speak about).
Now, I don't intend for this post to turn into a complete skin care routine write up as I'm still very much in the stages of sorting out possible causes and treatments, including but not limited to diet changes and a prescribed medication from my dermatologist. (That said, if you would find it helpful if I documented this experience here, please do let me know in the comments below!) Instead, I want this post to help anyone who's struggling with a self-image problem of their own, be it acne or not, to know that you're not alone. And despite how difficult it might get to remind yourself at the end of the day, it really is true: you are enough. You are. You are more than enough. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise. And especially don't let yourself tell you otherwise. If you are struggling with self-image issues, don't worry - there are lots of things you can do to fix these! For example, if you're conscious about acne or wrinkles, visit a dermatologist on the upper east side (or one local to you.) Or if you're self conscious about your weight, why not visit a personal trainer? There are always other options!
Easier said than done, of course. Especially in an age of over-sharing and over-editing, when you can easily compare yourself to this person or that celebrity -- trust me, I get it. And in some ways, I feed into it -- it's the nature of this world I work in. Guilty as charged. But just as that saying goes, "Be kind, for everyone you meet is fighting a hard battle," you gotta be kind to yourself first. You owe that to YOU.
And in the spirit of self-love, I've partnered with my favorite facial oil, Biossance, to help celebrate their latest product launch, The Nourisher. As someone with, oddly enough, very dry skin despite my recent onslaught of breakouts, I've toyed with the idea of facial oils off and on the past few years, afraid it would just add too much "oil" to my already seemingly "oily" face. I've now fully incorporated them into my evening routine at the recommendation of my dermatologist, who has me on several cleansers and creams that are extremely drying on the skin to help combat my acne. One of these creams is a CBD cream which I decided to try after my friend sent me this CBDistillery Coupon Code, although I've found that this one doesn't dry my skin out like the others. It would make sense that CBD is helping clear up my skin, as it is a cannabinoid from the cannabis plant, which has evidence to prove that it greatly helps clear up acne. Many prefer to actually smoke marijuana strains, like blue god, instead of using CBD products. It's completely up to you how you choose to treat your acne/skin issues, but ensure that it is having a positive effect on your spots and not worsening the problem. It doesn't help that winter is in full swing here in NYC and my skin has never been dryer. Never. It's been extremely uncomfortable and unsettling -- almost to the point that I've noticed my skin becoming a bit dull and less firm than I'm used to, particularly on my lower jawline and neck, where a lot of recent breakouts have been occurring. I'm trusting in the process that my dermatologist has outlined for me (and urge you to consult yours first before you start subscribing to this routine for your skin), but have relished in the fact I can lather on just a few drops of a gentle facial oil like Biossance's Nourisher combined with a gentle moisturizer like CereVe, and start to feel my old skin texture again, despite the necessary skin peeling from my cleansing routine.
If you'd like to share your own self-love story, Biossance is hosting a giveaway over on their Instagram account. Simply upload an image of your own, share your self-love journey and tag Biossance and you'll be automatically entered for a chance to win a Nourisher sample.
I also want to say that this post was extremely therapeutic for me to write -- and while I'm still very much in the thick of struggling with acne, I feel immensely better for getting this off my chest. It's something that I've wanted to discuss here on This Time Tomorrow for a while now, but the timing always seemed off and I had a million excuses as to why I didn't want to openly admit this thing that I'm extremely insecure about. But when Biossance shared their latest campaign story with me -- that of self-love -- I felt it would be amiss of me to not take this opportunity to stare this thing down in the face, once and for all, especially with a product that my dermatologist and I feel is a good fit for me and my skin right now.
Of course, part of me is still afraid to hit publish -- because us silly human beings hate being vulnerable -- but I also recognize that if this reaches just one other person who might be going through something similar, than I fully believe it was worth it. And if you happen to be that one other person still reading this very long and rambling post and want to talk about it -- hit me up! I'm all ears: krystalannebick@gmail.com.
This post was in collaboration with Biossance. As always, all opinions and styling are my own. Thank you for supporting all This Time Tomorrow collaborations!
(Looks over shoulder to see if anyone is listening.)
THIRTY!
Whew.
There. I yelled it! And you know what? I'm fucking pumped about it.
Am I surprised to say that I'm pumped? I'd be lying if I didn't admit that I'm a tiny bit surprised. Perhaps it's just me, but it seems when anyone brings up the idea of turning 30, a few phrases get thrown at you. "Now you're an adult!" or "Time to get serious." or my personal favorite, "30 is the new 20." Almost as if the past 10 years were a test run -- a practice round.
I'd like to officially go on the record to say, I sure as hell hope my 30s are nothing like my 20s. Not that I didn't enjoy my 20s (as you'll soon see in the bulk of this post, I loved my 20s), but because I've been there! I've done that. I've challenged myself in ways I never thought possible during my 20s and I don't want to look at this next decade as a repeat by any means. I want it to represent the uncharted. The frightening. The different. The new. The untamed. The fucking weird. And the fucking beautiful.
At this point, I would apologize for the swearing, but my soon to be 30-year old self doesn't want to ring in this year with an apology. She'd like to take a few shots of tequila tonight, romp around this city that she loves to the wee hours of the morning and rock and roll into the next 10 years. But before she does that, she'd like to take a moment and bid adieu to her 20s in perhaps the best way any 80s baby knows how: a montage highlight reel.
So dim the lights. Grab the popcorn. Silence your phones (OK, you don't really have to do that last one, but you catch my drift.)
My 20s in 2 minutes or less: Lived in two big cities that I've dreamed of living in ever since I was a little girl. Started a blog on a complete and utter whim in college, only to stick with it almost 7 years later. Worked at a few start up companies that are the cause of my early grey hairs (not complaining). Later worked at arguably one of the best companies in the world to work for -- and fell in love with the culture and the people. About 5 years later, I worked up the nerve to leave said job, to take another leap of faith (but that's another blog post, for another day).
I've fallen in love (several times). I've had my heart broken (several times). And each time I learned something new about myself and what I want in a partner. I've also learned to never settle. I've traveled to distant countries where I reveled in the differences that make this world so beautiful and varied. I've become a mom to one wonderful pup, Elvis. I jumped out of a perfectly good airplane (and landed safely). I ran my first marathon (and am looking forward to my second in a few months as a 30 year old!). I made new friends. I made some best friends. I lost some friends, too. I was reckless with my health. And then I was made painfully aware of it, for the better. I lost people I cared deeply for. And I miss their presence all the time.
I lived in Italy for a few months. I've eaten the most amazing pizza in Torino. I've heard a symphony play in the Sydney Opera House. I've touched the Western Wall. I've looked up at the vaulted ceilings of Haghia Sophia mosque. I've looked down at Horseshoe Bend. I've driven down the coast of California in a convertible and loved every minute of the wind in my hair. I've ridden in a hot air balloon over Turkey. I've gotten lost in Yosemite. I grew the most in San Francisco. I've found my home here in New York.
Here's to my 20s; they were a wild and crazy ride. And here's to my 30s, may they be even wilder, crazier and, with with any luck, I hope they bring the unexpected. I'm ready for it.
There was a recent men's fashion week trend recap in last Sunday's New York Times that called out something called "trapper chic." The main image? Leonard DiCaprio from The Revenant. I'd be amiss if I didn't admit I felt somewhat like Leo while wearing this coat. I'd also be lying if I didn't look at some other fellow fashion week attendees with bare legs (BARE LEGS) on some of the coldest days of the year and shiver. Granted, I've been said show goer before, so no judgement from this side of the table. Just saying, I was sure happy to have a shearling coat to wrap myself up in. Also, don't you just love turtlenecks that come up to your eyes? Clearly, I do. Maybe more than I should.
Hope everyone is enjoying their Monday off (if you happen to have President's Day off!) and that your Valentine's Day was spent with those you care about.
We're still in the thick of fashion week at the moment, which means I'm running on a lot of caffeine fumes and desperately layering all the winter clothes I own to stay warm. I wore this look last week for the Marissa Webb show (which in one word was: amazing) but since then, I've opted for no bare ankles, for fear of frost bite.
Things are going to be a bit hectic around This Time Tomorrow with NYFW winding down and an exciting shoot coming up on Wednesday (more on that to come!), so follow along on SnapChat (username: krystalbick) in the meantime! Hint: the apartment is coming together! Finally!
Earlier this week, I attended the launch party for Kendall and Kylie Jenner's collection at PacSun. I love when celebrity line collections really represent the celebrity and their personality well, and I have to say, I think each piece captures K & K's youthful playfulness when it comes to style. Here are a few of my favorites (all perfect for a little mid-winter vacation perhaps!):
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As much as I consider myself a social person and love making plans with my girlfriends, I also love treating myself to solo dates. Little jaunts around the city to spots or places I've been meaning to visit, to simply enjoy by myself and appreciate alone. I can go at my own pace, take detours when I want to or just simply sit in silence to take it all in, if it so pleases me. And if I want to go the extra mile, I'll even turn my phone to airplane mode, only using it to snap photos along the way. It's the perfect indulgent "me" time that truly allows me to clear my head of clutter, doubt, worry and the all around mess that accumulates from time to time.
And my favorite solo dates? Always at museums. If you recall, as part of my 30 before 30 list (which we're nearing the end to!), I wanted to check out all the museums in New York City. Sadly, I think I fell short on this one (there are just so many museums here!), but I'm a sucker for my favorites: The MoMa, the Guggenheim, the Whitney, the Natural History Museum and the Metropolitan Museum of Art. Of course, the Met. There's just something so enchanting about the Met -- it's mazelike -- almost as if you're roaming around a large funhouse, with surprises around every corner. Naturally, there's the pure grandeur of the interior architecture alone (columns and high-vaulted ceilings for days!) that never ceases to stop me in my tracks when I walk in and look up.
This past week, I wanted to capture some of that awe feeling I have when I walk into the Met so Lydia and I took full advantage of a snowy day here in the city to shoot inside. To throw in a little extra romance and whimsy to the story (because why not?) I donned this Ellery dress borrowed from Plan de Ville for the occasion. If you haven't checked out their selection of up and coming designers, I highly recommend that you do.
And not to throw another recommendation at you, but if you've never been to the Met, I highly recommend you clear your schedule for a full day and head over. Maybe also go solo and treat yourself to a lunch date in their atrium cafe? Just a thought...but I think you might enjoy it.
When it comes to shooting outfits for This Time Tomorrow, I like the location to be just as much of a focal point as the outfit, if not more so sometimes (Empire State Building, anyone?). And that's mainly because I like to think of this space as my catalyst for exploring New York. It makes me see the city through different eyes and experience it in a way that's more than just passing through another neighborhood. In a way, I take a piece of it with me.
While this location I may not have given a second thought to, I'm really glad Lydia insisted we shoot here. It's part of the NYU campus, just a block off Washington Square Park, and while nothing about it screams "New York!" to me, we both were really digging the Mad Max vibes it was giving off -- structural and rough around the edges -- a little slice of a post-apocalyptic world, right there at the corner of the park. Granted, I'm no Charlize Theron and I definitely didn't have Tom Hardy by my side (unfortunately!), but I have to admit, it did give a certain brazen edge to my outfit that I think was warranted.
That said, if there are ever locations in New York (or elsewhere for that matter, in the US or abroad), that you think I should check out for a shoot, please do let me know! Send me an email (krystalannebick@gmail.com) with the subject line "Shoot Locations" and I'd love to check them out.
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