street style: brooklyn

Note: This post was previously published here as a part of my freelance work. 

Living in the city of Philadelphia, Brooklyn is just a quick bus ride north and an escape that I make often. I love this little city of mine, but every once in a while, you need to break out of the routine.

Brooklyn is a way to mix it up. Each visit leaves you brimming with inspiration. I love walking the streets and observing the people; I love checking out the shops and restaurants filled with unique ideas. Everywhere you look it’s something different – a playground for the visual thinker.

This past weekend, I made a Brooklyn trip. To bottle up that infectious, inspired feeling Brooklyn tends to leave you with, I decided to capture a few street style images to share with BLDG 25. Let these transport you to that land where you can be anything you want:

weekly scenes

What is life? Life is moving from one meal to another. Picking up a fresh artisan loaf on your way home. A fresh-brewed espresso. The thoughtful gentle taste of fresh herbs. It's about the delicacies that make the hardships a little bit easier. Sharing moments with friends and letting time stand still. Because food has a way of lighting life up and making it great.

cereal london

London, I'm coming for you! This May. Let the countdown begin...

open space

The other day, I read an article that talked about negative space. It described a hand. The negative space in-between each finger defining the edges, and allowing our brains to make sense of physical matter. "Without nothing, there cannot be something," it explained. The negative space allows us to make sense of what is.

It got me to thinking about other ways in which this is true. I decided that it also holds beyond the physical. Without sadness, we could not understand happiness, and moments of quiet help us make sense of the chatter. That, is why it's so important to relax, to meditate, to do yoga, and to get out and hike in nature -- even if it's the middle of a snow-ridden winter. We need moments to free the mind, so that we can then reign her in. We need mother nature and her wide open spaces, so that the world and all her clutter can make sense.

That is why I return.

weekly scenes

There is no one I love spending time with more than my man. With him, I'm utterly myself. Free & happy. The past month gifted us more time together than usual. When life gives it to you, you use it. Adventures, with him, are always better. 

weekly scenes: a winter hike

Our first snowfall happened over Thanksgiving this year. We went home, hoping it would come. Crossing our fingers and holding out for its magical presence to start sprinkling down. Sure enough, rise and shine Wednesday morning, and there it was -- flurrying in the skies and making its presence known. All day it snowed, and bit by bit the landscape was blanketed. Come Thursday, we strapped our hiking boots on and went out to enjoy it. Off to Highland Forest with three dogs, Adam, and my brother. We hiked the expansive trails for about three hours. Working up a sweat with the uphill climbs, and losing our breath from the utter beauty that surrounded us. There is something about a snowy landscape that makes your heart drop. It's a quiet presence. The snow brings peace and sheer awe in one fell swoop. 

Upon arriving home, we warmed up in front of the fire and set some cider to brew with cinnamon and clove. It was truly one of those days. You know, the ones where you feel like everything is just perfect.

united by blue

Get up. Go. Adventure.

Leave the plans behind. Ditch the maps.

Step inside. Ask directions. Follow the lines scribbled on a napkin.

See where it leads you.

Then find your way home.

le marche st. george

You've probably seen one or more of these photos scattered throughout my work in the last few months, but today I'm compelled to publish them all in one place. Together they show the collective magic that is Le Marche St. George, a cafe and small market located in Vancouver, Canada. It's the kind of place we all romanticize about owning one day. A cafe where the guests come for the people just as much as they do the coffee. A place where the owners travel and hand-select luxury goods to sell in small quantities. Where the texture on the walls authentically screams of weathered age, and where the marble top tables transport you to 1920's Paris. The ceiling-to-floor shelves stocked with local staples -- coffee, jam, pickles, and crackers.

I sat here for hours my first time in Vancouver. I sipped on a cappuccino. I split my flaky croissant piece by piece to nibble on its airy richness. Beside me sat a foursome of middle-aged women. They talked about using their bikes to get around and someone they knew who developed diabetes. Mothers with strollers made their way up to the door. I watched it all through speckled light cast through the trees. Little shadows danced on their children's faces as they waited patiently in their strollers. The table in front of me was a beautiful still life all its own. 

This experience welcomed me to Vancouver. It gave me pause -- moments to gather my thoughts, realize where I was, and get ready for something new. Who I was, there at that cafe, preparing for it all, is not who I turned into after the experience. That trip, those adventures, the way they changed me was like being branded on the brain with a scolding hot iron. My eyes will never see the same. Everything holds a different hue than ever before. I hold that moment at Le Marche St. George in my heart as a glimpse of who I was, a person on the brink of something new.