Showing posts with label Art of Wings. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Art of Wings. Show all posts

Thursday, August 6, 2009

Self-medication




I am a firm believer in self-medication. I've felt rather sickly for the past 24 hours, and can find no comfort in the traditional forms of medication, as I couldn't swallow a pill if my life depended on it. However, I have found that there are three things that always make me feel better, at least psychologically. Number one, a well-made chai latte. Number two, a good book. And number three, a wonderful piece of clothing.

And so I scraped myself off of the couch and threw on a 'get well' outfit. This one in particular consisted of one of my most cherished purchases, a wrap-around patchwork skirt that I picked up from the lovely Meghann Frickberg of Art of Wings at a market in the Seattle area about 5 years ago. I can remember how $65 at that time was a fortune, but I begged my man to let me have it, and it's more than paid back that $65 in the amount of wear I've gotten out of it. And I topped it off with The Hoody. I think it was a lovely debut and an even lovelier pairing. Methinks I shall get the shoulders tailored in a bit, but otherwise it's absolute perfection.

And in this outfit, I carried myself off to the local Starbucks. I cringe to order a chai latte there since I have their Tazo mix at home to make myself a chai whenever the mood strikes (a daily occurrence, I assure you). However, there's something about a barista-made chai, and a Starbucks one at that. Perhaps it's because it reminds me of my self-medication while I lived in Vancouver, a place I've missed since the minute I left...

And once the chai was procured in the necessary outfit, I meandered over to my new favorite used bookstore. I ended up buying a book that I shunned before because it has some slight water damage and staining. Today, however, this made the copy look quite charming. And I just couldn't pass up such a lovely cover and title (The Island of the Day Before). I won't even begin to pretend that I've read more than 10 pages of Umberto Eco's Foucault's Pendulum (and these 10 pages were a very difficult feat to say the least). Nonetheless, the last novel I read of his was irresistible, and I feel that this one shall prove to be the same.

So have I been cured? No. I'm afraid that I may have contracted some sort of flu in my daily wonderings. However, I'm not feeling so sorry for myself, as I inevitably do if I feel sick for more than 15 minutes. So for now, I think that's all I can ask for. Now on to my reading...