baseball mom pt. II


If this look (this one) was a baseball mom at the middle school diamond with a platter of watermelon, then today’s look is a baseball mom chaperoning the high school team on their way to a series in the middle of July, who manages to keep straight the orders of 30 freshman at In-n-Out.

Why does my mind work this way.

Something about this look is so nostalgic. The hair (which I was told, with a straight face no less, reminded someone of Betty Boop…no wait, Bette Davis) does seem pretty vintage, but it’s actually one of my bad-hair-day fixes!! You’d never know, right? Then the cropped pants, the broad cotton blouse, red lip, the navy and white together, with the stripes and the hint of embroidery…something about this just works.

It could be that the Fourth of July is just my favorite, and I’m gearing up for it early.

Is that such a crime?

uniform days


I’ve talked about the effect uniforms have had on me before (see this post for some mom jeans and introspection). But today I’m not just talking about them, I’m stepping back to high school. The things I do for this blog.

Okay, that’s not entirely fair, because I love this sweater a lot, and have been looking for a decent plaid for a while. But when I slipped these on and stood in front of my mirror, I was not prepared to see 17 y/o Chrisy staring back at me.

High school was a pretty solid time. I had amazing friends, was blessed by caring teachers, and we could see the ocean from the patio where we ate lunch, for goodness sake. We had our fair share of dramas and angst, of course, but that’s going to happen anywhere.

We did have red and baby blue polos that we had to wear, with these awful electric blue plaid skirts. They were supposed to be at least five inches above the ground when kneeling—I kid you not—which meant maybe 2 inches above the knee when standing…not a flattering cut.

We all rolled them.

I didn’t start until senior year, because it wasn’t until then that I realized I could get away with it. My advisor called every girl to the front of the room and measured their skirts with an index card, but not me and not my friend Ariana; she knew ours were long enough (clearly, I was one of the cool kids)(not at all)(insert hairflip bitmoji anyways).

Anyways, it was then that I realized I could get away with rolling my skirt, because my teachers just assumed I wouldn’t. I think my classmates did to, and let’s be real, the extra inches that I could convince myself to reveal (because I was too much of a rule follower to actually make my skirt a flattering length, and just wanted to feel like I was rebelling, instead of actually showing off skin) didn’t draw any more attention to myself.

I don’t talk about modesty a lot on here, because I think it’s such a relative topic, especially in a school setting. And my feminist side comes out to fight: women shouldn’t be required to dress preemptively and defensively. I’m going to stop before I get up on that particular soapbox, but you can assume I have plenty of thoughts on the matter of dress codes.

I will say, though, that I wish I hadn’t rolled my skirt.

It’s classic peer pressure, doing some inane thing because you think it’ll change someone’s impression of you. Chances are, no one else notices. In my case, that rang particularly true, and I kinda wish I’d realized that. That the people whose interest would be impacted by a shorter hemline, these were not the people I wanted as friends. And the friends that I did have, they didn’t notice. Because what is a hemline next to your eyes or your laugh?

Yeah, it’s cliche, but the people whose opinion matters, they aren’t looking at your legs, or at how well you wear a uni-gender polo shirt (I can confirm that they’re as bad as they sound). I wish I could’ve told that to a high-school me.

Which was why it was so interesting to try on something so reminiscent now. To put on an unflattering skirt that makes me happy, to wear clunky shoes of my own volition, to slip on a giant sweater that doesn’t do anything for my figure. When you are unabashedly who you are, the clothes you put yourself in dim in comparison to that character.

new orleans pt. II

IMG_0928IMG_0959IMG_0951IMG_0937IMG_0939IMG_0961IMG_0953IMG_0954IMG_0963I’ve never been much for journaling (ironic, since I run a blog which I suppose is pretty similar in concept?), but I grabbed a cute one from Target before New Orleans, so I thought I’d give it a whirl. Like I said in my last post, this was the very Caro + Chris way to do a city. Nothing too crazy, lots of meandering, a few bookstores, and lots of food. And bear in mind that we drove 8 hours from Dallas to NOLA, and had to drive the 8 hours back the next day, so I hope you don’t judge our 10pm checkin too harshly! This post is alternatively named: how to spend a day in The Big Easy when you don’t drink and aren’t much for the party scene. Enjoyyyyyyy

08:15 am Rise and Shine! Beignets at the Cafe du Monde. They were amazing, and we barely spilled powdered sugar. Cafe au lait was amazing, too, of course.

09:38 am St. Louis Cathedral and Jackson Square. Some fun street art too, throughout the French quarter, and some talented musicians made an appearance. I can’t imagine the courage and dedication it’d take to get up and perform each day for a crowd of strangers…

10:04 am Tried on masks at Royal Masks. I’m all for some A Cinderella Story style masks, but when they start looking like plague masks, that’s a hard pass for me.

10:21 am Browsed through the Faulkner House. This was the place where William Faulkner wrote his first novel! There’s some pretty cool history there, and I think that’s actually what impressed me most about the city—the people’s dedication to keeping their history alive.

11:30 am Lunch at Tableu. It was amazing, and on a gorgeous balcony…we didn’t realize till after that there was an enclosed patio, which was equally picturesque. Caroline had gumbo and I had French Onion soup…also we split a fair sized order of fries and a loaf of bread, because portion control is a thing of routine, not vacation.

12:19 pm Wander and people watch in the French Quarter. What is the big deal with pralines? Why do people decide to tour New Orleans en masse, via segway? Is no one else getting whiplash from the taro card reader just steps outside of the Cathedral? We may never know…

01:20 pm Drove around the Garden District. Some of these houses are soooo beautiful, y’all! And there are some really cute little shops around here, which of course we stopped for and perused.

01:50 pm Coffee and croissants at La Boulangerie. This place was so cute, and the croissants were perfect. Also the decor was just darling: white and marble and royal blue and dark wicker.

03:26 pm Shopping at The Rink. I love curated shopping places like this. There was a place selling baby clothes, a place selling old books and a place selling blanket scarves.

04:30 pm Shopping at the Shops at Canal Place. Because even on vacation, there is always time for Brooks Brothers, Anthropologie, and Vineyard Vines.

06:19 pm Dinner. We went to a fondue place, and our poor waiter kept trying to give us suggestions of bars to go to, or fun places to turn up. His expression when we kept reiterating that we actually weren’t about that was pretty priceless.

08:05 pm Bought sweatshirts. The temperature dropped with the sun and, despite all our shopping from earlier, we were woefully unprepared for the climate change. We found some (surprisingly cute?) $5 mens’ sweatshirts at H&M, and they did the trick.

08:34pm Cafe du Monde, round two. The beignets were that great, y’all.

09:41pm Home again, home again.

As cities go, this one was 100% my style. But, I still had an amazing time and made some pretty great memories, and can you really ask for more that that?

Sooooooo remember when I asked y’all if you wanted video content? Well, here’s a shaky, recorded-on-my-iPhone, mostly-a-collection-of-Insta-stories, vlog of NOLA. Let me know what you think!

new orleans pt. I

My friend Caroline and I keep joking that, in the nebulous future, after we’re well-traveled and well-aged, we’re going to make a coffee table book.

And while I wish this was a publication announcement (it isn’t), and that we were celebrating our literary success with Sprinkles (we aren’t), and that we’d already been to the places we’re planning (we haven’t), I think it’s still an exciting concept worth sharing.

So here’s the backstory: We went to New Orleans a few weekends ago, and let me tell you, it was pretty fun. But while we were planning, we realized we had two options: do the photogenic things, or the ‘us’ things. The things Pinterest told us to do, and the things we wanted to do. Live it up on Bourbon Street vs. eat our weight in beignets. Get our palms read vs. do a bookstore hop. The glam way vs. the us way.

We chose the us way.

And we want to keep doing that. We want to go to pretty places and see pretty things, and to experience it the way we want, without worrying about how photogenic it is. Yes, I realize the irony of posting pictures and saying I don’t want to care about appearances. But we decided that we’d be experience based, and capture those, instead of focusing on capturing pictures, and squeezing in some actual fun on the side.

We’re calling this not-entirely-hypothetical book ‘Elastic‘. Because that’s what our waistbands will be.

Everyone says you should travel in your 20s. But I feel like there’s a very Instagram-approved way of seeing the world. It involves mimosas and flights around the globe and nights out and Jillian-Michaels-approved portion control. None of which are necessarily bad things, they’re just really really really not my cup of tea. Image isn’t something I talk about on here as much as I should, and I don’t know if I’m really in a position to be talking about it, so I won’t delve too deeply. I’ll just say this: if/when I see the four corners of the world, it’ll be in an elastic waistband, and the best moments will not be the ones I post on Insta, or even on this corner of the internet. They’ll be the deleted images of me spilling powdered sugar down my front, wearing less-than-flattering shoes because comfort sometimes trumps fashion, and ugly-laughing.

That’s what Elastic is.

It’s your style, your mentality, your smile. Going to lovely places, with lovely people, indulging in lovely things. And settling back into the in-between with grace, not just dreaming of the next plane ticket.

call me mason weaver


A bookish look to compliment a bookish week.

At work, we play a concoction of rain recordings and white noise over the loud speakers. It’s the subtle drone, to encourage conversation and keep content those inclined to no music. Which leaves those of us who like music, to our own devices with our headphones.

I have a ridiculous amount of playlists pulled up on spotify—from Ben Rector to Ed Sheeran to Rosemary Clooney to Ward Thomas—but this week I realized audio books are a thing, and have been happily listening to my favorites: The Count of Monte Cristo and The Scarlet Pimpernel. What can I say, I’m a nerd for classic literature.

There’s something soothing about hearing these stories again.

For whatever reason, I don’t like rewatching many movies. I know the parts, I know the climax, I know the expressions, even the inflections. But books, books I can revisit again and again. Especially ones written to long ago and with such elegance.

There’s just always something to discover, and stepping into a story really is like opening a doorway to your imagination.

You know when Gene Wilder sings (in a tragic misuse of technicolor) to come along to a world of pure imagination? That’s what reading is. You’re no longer in an office, you’re in the Day Dream skimming along the coast of Calais with Percival Blakeny and co. You’re crouched in a cell in ChΓ’teau d’If, or visiting the infamous hideout of Luigi Vampa with the former Edmond Dantes. You’re taking tea with the Bennet sisters or learning society in Satis House with Pip.

I’m not one of those people that insists that all great literature was written in the 19th century.

But a lot of it was.

And it’s fun to dip back in time to revisit them.

What a rabbit trail, right? Maybe it’s these old loafers that had me feeling nostalgic. Or the glasses, or the high waisted shorts, but something about this feels very retro.Zoologist meets jungle photographer, something like that? I’ll take it.

(p.s. if you got the title reference, A+ to you. Did I go see this movie because (1) Brie Larson is my hero and (2) to see Tom Hiddleston in a role where he wasn’t overshadowed by a wig or aggressive sexuality? Yes and yes).