Footsie Pajamas and Other Friday Musings

Well, hey! It's been, rather obviously, a tough week for posting. Because: On Wednesday, I flew from Tokyo (oh Tokyo, how I miss you) to L.A., where I had exactly 22 hours to spend in the city with the lovely Maggie (more on that later). I was up at 5am to catch my flight onwards to Philadelphia, where I am currently in the midst of exactly 22 hours here before flying on to Florida tonight. I'm not really complaining—oh, poor me, I have to go to Los Angeles and Florida—but it doesn't make for much share-worthy fashion choices. I've basically been living in grubby t-shirts and jeans and Chuck Taylors. Luckily, I found this amazing slim-cut vintage navy trench coat in Tokyo, which, when thrown on in public areas, covers much of the above quite nicely. Too bad it doesn't have a hood, because dry airplane hair = yuck.

Also: The women in L.A. are totally rocking the whole skinny jeans-into-slouchy boots, t-shirt, vest and aviator sunglasses combo (also some seriously perfect skin and tousled long hair. And occasionally the skinny suspender.) And it works really well. Go forth and try.

Bear with me for a few more days, when I plan to return to my regular shenanigans (and also to NYC, the most inspiring city of all). In the meantime, can I say for a second how much the Philadelphia airport, of all places, feels like home? It's like a ritual now: Fly in, check out the new Phillies stadium on the descent, step off the jetway and see the overpriced airport cheesesteak stand, find the generous family member (this time, my bearded brother) waiting at the baggage claim to whisk me off into America (first stop: thrift store!). And there's this little part of me that jumps up and down every time I do it. It's clichéd but so true: There's no place like home.

There's also nothing quite like pink footsie jammies. (Except perhaps the new flannel Hello Kitty! jammies my mom had waiting for me. Yes kids, I'm nearly 30 years old, but Hello Kitty! jammies are one of those things that still can make you quite giddy.) The ones above are courtesy of Miss Kyra, age 19 months. If only they made footsie jammies for adults. I'm pretty sure you could never go to sleep upset if you were wearing them.