three days in new york city can cure just about anything

Fueled by shouty feminist podcasts and at-home maple lattés, March was busy and fabulous. Positively booming with travel — from Vermont to Boston to Banff to Boston to New York to Boston (to be exact) — flights were booked, bags were packed, and the Dramamine supply was drained.

I can’t complain. I already recapped our trip to Banff and how freaking great it was, then just about straight after, I Amtrak-ed to New York for a photoshoot, and also got to see my dearest (one-fourth of bang!), Grace. We ate dumplings together and stayed up late watching Bravo because that is what we do. It was written in the stars.

Speaking of bang!, TWICE I was sent an omen from the universe — the first one right outside of our shoot in Williamsburg and the second while walking through SoHo. Bang! is everywhere, bang! can not be escaped. Consider these my angel numbers.

I was so sad about leaving Banff last week, but there is nothing that fills my cup like seeing my girls and a trip to the city, especially as we step into the fleeting tease of spring weather that comes with the end of March. The sun was shining, the birds were chirping, and the West Village reclaimed its standard 1:1 human-to-dog ratio.

My post-Banff depression had been cured by the greatest city in the world. Go figure!

Meandering through the many Saturday morning farm stands and canvassing micro-politicians, I visited not one, but two magazine shops and picked up a copy of Interview Magazine. My plan was to read it on the train ride home, but A) Interview Magazines are fucking massive — their wingspan rivals that of a large seagull, which is not very conducive to being a pleasant seatmate on a train. And B) I was too busy conducting two separate deep dives — the first on the ever-so-controversial, fresh meat of RHOBH, Amanda Frances (if you’ve been watching Beverly Hills, you know that this is justified). And the second, window bird feeders. More on that next month.

On two separate occasions during this trip to the city, I performed a public outfit change and glam sesh — two tasks that border chic nonchalance and mania. The first was after the shoot, when I was changing into my dinner outfit and popping on a bit of eyeliner, which felt appropriate since everyone I was surrounded by was a fashion person, so they get it. But the second instance was on the Amtrak back to Boston, because once I arrived at Back Bay, I had to head straight to Amanda’s birthday party (not the Amanda from RHOBH, a much better Amanda).

Unfortunately for me, I do care what people think about me. I’m still in my twenties, so it’s just a rite of passage. But my train was delayed an hour, and I was already running late, so there began my exposure therapy of at least pretending I didn’t care. Smushed between a nosy French woman and the window, the communal train desk fully extended, practically pinning me down to my seat, I took out my makeup bag. Of course, my eye shadow palette shattered, so every single product and tool was covered in various shades of shimmering charcoal. But like an artist at work, I didn’t let it faze me. About five minutes later, the job was done, and I could carry on comparing two different brands of bird seed. Easy peasy! The two men across from me were not impressed, but the sweet lady next to me complimented my ability to apply makeup on a moving train. Madame, ce n’est pas my first rodeo!

Now onto the real meat of this article — all of my favorite things this month! We’re talking clothes, home rituals, what kept me entertained this month, the podcast that has consumed my every waking breath…, and online vintage finds I regrettably left behind (with links!.. act fast). Here’s what stood out this March:

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