Gelato is Better in Italy. Duh.

Here's a quickie photo recap of the world's fastest trip through one of the smallest neighborhoods in Manhattan: Little Italy. I left the house with Savannah strapped in the Ergo intending to go on a Russian staycation to Brighton Beach. But after 20 minutes on the subway, the idea of spending another 40 didn't seem feasible. So we got off early and walked through Little Italy with a short pitstop to share gelato and visit to an Italian pasta shop to buy fresh artichoke ravioli, which Savvy devoured when we returned home.

I learned two things:

1. Savannah's not content to stay strapped to me all afternoon anymore. Shoes are now mandatory.

2. When introducing Savannah to a new food (i.e. gelato) I should order my favorite flavors (nocciola and stracciatella) instead of flavors I think Savannah will like (strawberry and vanilla) since she will only take one bite, leaving her mother with crappy, unsatisfying gelato.

Shopping like it's 2001 (or the post where I really embarrass myself)

I recently sorted through my closet and over-stuffed a garbage bag full of clothes to donate. I do this at least once a year. Every year for the last 10 years, I've held onto a few items I purchased during the year I studied abroad in London. I began my twenties in London. Next month, I turn 30. Clothes a decade old from Topshop, H&M, Mango...Never to be worn again but still loved. "Smart trousers" that I rocked a few seasons past their prime...A flirty going-out shirt that my now-husband encouraged me to try on during an awkward shopping trip to Topshop while we were "on a break"...These and others are too sentimental to throw away.

Since they say 30 is the new 20, I thought it would be fun to update my wardrobe from the Oxford Street transplants that now reside on Broadway in Soho. After an especially tough morning with Savannah where she decided to start the day at 4:45am, I had a couple hours to myself thanks to an auntie (or should I say fairy godmother?) and took the opportunity to hit up Topshop and Mango for some retail therapy even though my eyes were burning from exhaustion. I hunted for party clothes to wear on my birthday night out and decided to snap some dressing room photos for the blog.

Taking self-portraits and spending lots of time on Instagram editing them was just the self-indulgent narcissistic activity I needed after months and months of pouring every ounce of my being into my daughter. I felt like my old, dorky (and hot) self. I ended up buying the black dress. It has long sleeves. I hope we have chilly evenings this September because I'm dying to wear it.