dress better

View More: http://ashley-caroline.pass.us/010215allie The other day, I met a friend for dinner in Midtown. I was tired and hungry and generally moody. The entire trip to meet him, I couldn't help but be consumed by negative thoughts. Listen, I'm all for positivity, but midtown in New York City during the summer is anything but a positive place, and I found myself saying over and over again:

We. are. gross.

Let me be more specific. New Yorkers, Americans, whatever - and I'm making a huge generalization here - do not take pride in what they wear. I am not exempt from this statement. We really, truly, don't care how we look. Maybe it's the American, nay, the New York notion that work is the most important thing you do. Maybe it's the trickle down effect of being "so busy" that makes us neglect our minds, our bodies, and our creative selves. Whatever it is, we need to work on it. The most stylish people in the world live in this city, and I saw perhaps only two of them on the way to meet my friend. The rest of the poor souls looked as though they had rolled out of bed, slapped on whatever their eyes first touched, and left the house without a second thought.

When I lived in Spain, you would smell a man before you saw him. Sweet smelling but not overbearing cologne would hit your nose and you'd turn around to see the most perfectly coiffed gentleman. Every time. Shiny leather shoes, suit tailored within an inch of its life, exceptional hair across the board. It's not that Spanish guys are better looking than American guys. It's that we don't care and we've never even given ourselves a chance. We think pink shirts on guys are too "girly" and that skinny jeans are too "metro" or "gay" and we tell ourselves these lies, why? I'm curious what happened and when because American men used to look like this:

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That's my Grandfather, Frederick O'Connor Sr. who served in the Coast Guard. Hell, even on the deck of a ship he looks more dapper than half the gents I know. We need a reality check and fast.

We work ourselves to the bone and everything, everything, falls by the wayside. I realize that putting clothing on our bodies is wayyyy down on the list of important things, but it is important. How we look affects how we feel and how we feel affects how we perform. What if we just decided today that we'd never make a fast fashion purchase again? What if we decided we would spend a full 60 seconds every day planning our what we wear? What if we challenged ourselves to wear a new-to-you outfit every day for a week? You don't have to be a millionaire or have a stylist (alright, maybe a stylist ;) to look on point every time you leave the house.

All I'm saying is that we can do better, New York. We're a good looking city and we deserve to treat ourselves as such.

That felt GOOD.

xoxo,

ALLIE SIGNATURE

 

 

 

 

 

 

top image by Ashley Caroline.

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why new york city is the best city, even at its worst

Everyone calls it “The City That Never Sleeps” and it’s true. New York City has its eyes on you every second you're here. You cannot take a breath without feeling the reverb somewhere else in your day, which means that what you exhale comes back to you in full force.  

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One of the many reasons I love this city is that you cannot escape here. So many days we just want to get out of its borders and rough edges, flee to the hills or dream about buying a 3-bedroom house in the suburbs. Some days, having a driveway and paying car insurance seems like the prize at the end of a dark, smelly subway tunnel. But recently, this inescapable city has me all kinds of lit up. The painfulness that we sometimes feel from being here has got me feeling all kinds of healed. And its darkness has brought on the proverbial light.

Here’s why I love it:

You overhear the exact right things in the exact right moments. As I was heading to work the other day, I decided to change up my usual old commute and walk down a different street. I passed two men talking - both in some sort of service industry. One said to the other, “It’s all about happiness man, you gotta find a job you love.” Okay, not overly profound in and of itself, but in the context of my day, it was a bold reminder.

As I approach a new decade, I am taking stock of my emotional and aspirational inventory and that includes making sure I am filling my days with things I love. This particular day, I said no and let some people down in order to do what I needed to do to feel happy. Not a comfortable thing for a people-pleasing, needy, affirmation-junkie like myself. But because I left my earbuds out at that moment, I allowed some New York in and was reminded by this stranger that you have to do what you love. You have to create happiness. If something isn’t working in your life, then change it.  Being uncomfortable is only temporary because the happiness you create is connected to your truth. The city gave me a dose of affirmation when I needed it the most.

 

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When you unexpectedly run into people you know in a city of 8 million people, a signal is being sent. For some reason in the past couple of weeks, every time I take a detour on my way home, I run into someone else I know. Each of these times, this happenstance meeting, this serendipitous pow-wow rubs off on the next few days. We connect again, plan something magical and get our ducks in a row to create something new. There is a spark that gets lit by the chance of meeting in New York City and that spark burns bright into furious creation. It also signifies something. It feels like there is a giant cartoon arrow pointing at the moment, saying, “Look over here! This is where you should be paying attention! Got energy? Put here!” The fact that I’m not supposed to be there at that place and time, that it was a last minute decision based on train schedules and phone calls and grumbling tummies makes it all the more surprising to run into those friends-turned-collaborators. It’s poetic, really: Change up route. Get new direction.

You find your tribe. There are all kinds of tribes out there and I have been part of many. The audition tribe, those fellow actors waking at dawn to stand in line and wonder if we’ll be wearing heels or flats that day. The day job tribe, those fellow artists who are just trying to make rent and hold onto their creative mojo while we’re all still young. The down and out tribe, those late 20-somethings with too much heaviness and not enough experience, trying to calculate just how long they can run on the fumes of their formerly ambitious 22-year old identity. But the best thing about this city (and growing up in it) is when you seek your tribe, because in this city, when you seek, you find. It’s taken me years to figure out that the people in my life are choices I am making and not just inevitable circumstances of fate. When I decided I wanted to cut the fat from my mental chatter and recycle all of those used up negative stories into fuel for creating a passionate, happy life, I found my people. This city has a lot of gems. And when you decide what and who you want to surround yourself with, you’ll never be alone.

 

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Facing your demons becomes a daily practice. The moment you walk out of your apartment, everything you see is a reflection of you. If you leave the apartment with a dull sense of dread, chances are there will be no subway seats, someone will knock into you on the street, you’ll spill the coffee you got from a barista with a major attitude, and you’ll find a dead cockroach in your hallway when you come home. (I mean, at least that’s what I have heard…) But, if on the other hand, you leave your apartment with a sense of ease, chances are you’ll make all of your subway transfers easily and efficiently, you’ll meet a laughing baby on the subway who will make you giggle with delight, you’ll find a new coffee shop with a darling barista and a delicious cold brew and the barista will over-punch your rewards card so you’re closer to your next free caffeine fix, and somehow, miraculously, when you get home the dishes will be done.

It’s all perspective and we know this, but the magic of New York is that you have to face your perspective. This city is either the best thing or the worst thing and it is barely, if ever, just mediocre. Which means there is no denial here. There is no wash of “okay.” I have been the despondent, coffee-drenched, cockroach-finding Debbie Downer and looking back on those times, I’m glad that I felt like I could crumble. I would rather have that shiny New York City mirror in my face so I can deal with it and pull myself out of it than stay stagnant in a gray wash of average. New York is not always comforting, but my Lord when it comes to reflecting you, it sure is accurate.

 

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You cannot take for granted one moment of being here. In this city, people are getting out of town all the time. I don’t mean vacationing in the Hamptons, I mean fleeing to other parts of the country. I have lived here for seven years and the first time my friends started leaving felt like a punch in a gut. I thought we were going to conquer the beast together. Selfishly, I felt a little bit abandoned.

But as the years have gone on and more and more of your friends leave, you realize that every day you stay you are making a choice. Every time someone else packs up and ships out, a little part of you asks, is it my turn? Should I go? What is keeping me here? Sometimes the answers come and sometimes they don’t, but at least it forces you to ask the question. Knowing why we stay in this city that hustles us, and rejects us, and loves us, and dumps us, and forces us to check ourselves is the motor that keeps the city running. It’s the fuel in the early mornings and the late nights and the scraping together of rent for just another month. Being forced to acknowledge why we stay is maybe the most endearing part of this aggravating town. It will hurl you full force to wherever you choose to go and then say, Wanna stay? And when the answer is yes, it takes you full steam ahead.

What do you love about New York City?

All photos by Craig Hanson Photography.

goodbye 20s: the biggest mistakes of my last 10 years

Reflecting at the turn of a decade ain't nothin' new. It's an easy, clean, obvious way to structure self-growth.  It's the proverbial fork in the proverbial road, so we think, well this seems like a good time to make a change. As I stare down my own fork in the road, I'm struck and overcome with enormous gratitude for the life that has built up around me. I am excited for what is to come. But mostly, I am profoundly indebted to the mistakes of my 20s. They were all so generous to me, and I would make them all again to get where I am now. But now that I'm here, oh dear God, I'm ready to give them up so I can make brand new ones.

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Here are the biggest hits (or misses) of my 20s to which I'm saying thanks for the growth and goodbye forever:

Being there for everyone else but not for myself. I have The Good Girl Complex (GGC) where you assume that being what everyone else needs means you are being a good person. In my 20s, I would say yes to absolutely everything just so I didn't let anyone down. Now I am learning that saying yes to everything means no one actually gets to know you. No one actually knows what makes you tick, what you like, what you see, who you are. No one knows any of that, including you. You cannot possibly create genuine connections by lying to yourself and to others. You cannot possibly give your heart away, create the work of a lifetime, take any huge and profitable risks if you don't show up authentically. The 20s are a great time to try out what everyone else expects of you, but make sure if you do this that you burn out enough to stop doing it as soon as possible.

Following a prescribed path instead of defining what moved me. More GGC: I believed in dues and paying them. Okay, if you're here, just stop doing that now. Yes, there is always something to learn and there are always people to revere, but that cannot take the place of your instinct. Absolutely no one in this world has the answer, so your solution to following your dreams or creating the life you want is just as valid as your mother's, or Gandhi's, or any of your Facebook friend's.  There is no prescription to a happy life that you don't already know. The work is in clearing the mental muck out of the way so you can access all of that juicy, instinctual, know-it-all-ness in your bones. Don't get me wrong, you will make mistakes when you follow your own path, but better they be your mistakes, ones you can own and learn from, than someone else's.

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Creating false boundaries. Here were stories I used to tell myself on the daily: Actors can't be moms. Actors can't be writers. Successful actors can't have day jobs. For acting work to have value, someone has to give it to you, you cannot make it yourself. Guess what, 20s? I see through you now. The only value anything has is based on the integrity with which you come to it. Tweet: The only value anything has is based on the integrity with which we come to it. - @courtneyromano via @littleredswell http://ctt.ec/839qK+Those boundaries are lies. We are lying to ourselves when we look at the world and say it's never been done before, because once upon a time - none of this was done before. So it comes down to either wanting to do it or not. False boundaries are lines we draw in our brains and repeat like they are facts. ALERT: just because it's in your head, does not make it true. Cross-check with your heart, your gut, and the people who love you the most.

Denying the fact that I didn't know a lot of things. I know barely anything anymore. Not for lack of trying. I would love to know all the answers to every question, problem, conundrum. I used to think that not having the answer was a weakness, like I should be able to come up with something if I was smart enough. But not knowing leaves you open to being a student, and if there is one thing I want to be doing when I'm 80 years old, it's learning. The way I feel when I learn something brand new ignites my mental fire. It makes me certain that the mystery of this universe will continue unfolding, we will never have the answer, and every day will be more beautiful because of it.

Acting like there was a finish line I was desperately trying to cross. That dull ache of not getting enough done, and over-extending, and collapsing in exhaustion? I'm all set with that. When you're 22 and getting out of school and wondering who you will be, you'll set goals and time limits and benchmarks of success. But before you know who you are, there is no way you can accurately set so many standards for your future self, so those "standards" are completely arbitrary. Every actor has this one, right: be on Broadway before 30. But here's my new one: play the long game with your craft, create a sustainable lifestyle that keeps you creating every day, and if, as you travel forward on this path of making art you cross over Broadway, that'll feel really amazing. Which version do you think has a better chance of "success"? There's no finish line. I'm in it for the long haul.

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Not traveling so I was "available." Availability, availability, availability. We are so available to everything else that we forget to show up to our own lives. When I tell people I haven't been to the West Coast, they look at me like I have just emerged from the large rock I must have been under all these years. I never used to plan vacations because of what might happen. I didn't know when the next job or paycheck would come, so I didn't want to leave for fear of missing out. But the world is too big to not go on adventures, and I've learned that when real opportunities come - you'll make yourself available.

And the very biggest mistake of all: trying too hard. This is the biggest, baddest mistake I've ever made. In relationships, jobs, auditions, thought patterns, even self-growth. "I'm working really hard on it..." became a phrase banned from our household over the last year. Less working, more breathing. So this is what I've learned about trying too hard: It's selfish. It's not about understanding what others need, it's about making sure you're what they need. Sometimes, you're just not, but if you try to fit into every mold, you'll feel immense pain and constant rejection. Not everyone needs to like you or your work for you or your work to be likeable. For me, trying too hard was about getting a return on investment. Instead of thinking, how can I help make this situation better or give the people something that makes their lives better, I was attempting to affirm my own life through hard, hard, hard, hard work. I'm not saying you shouldn't throw yourself whole-heartedly into your passion and burn the midnight oil from time to time, but dear loves, it should be easy to get down and dirty.

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If there's one thing my 20s have prepared me for, it's the art of mistake-making. I cannot wait to make even stupider mistakes. I cannot wait to learn even bigger lessons, because this decade 'round the mistakes and lessons are going to be unequivocally and authentically my own.

What are your favorite mistakes?

image sources: 1, 2&4, 3 is my own.

 

new york, i love you.

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We New Yorkers like it fast, tasty, stylish, and dramatic. We're also secretly emotional; for every uninterested glance we throw, we're always on the look out for signs, connections, nostalgia, and the illusive magic of this crazy city.

This morning I am smiling ear to ear after reading this Times feature on New Yorkers' haikus about the city. Read it and weep (I tried to pick a favorite, but I couldn't).

 

image via Pinterest

getting space: meditations from feeling cramped

If you could look in my closet right now, you’d learn a lot about me.

Okay fine, I’ll show you:

IMG_2776 This is what happens when you don’t make decisions, Wellers. And what happens when you reward yourself AND console yourself by buying clothing. And what happens when you live with someone else who may not want to look at how much you love clothing. Thankfully, I know I always have Allie on hand to help a sister out, but I digress…

There is something alluring about Spring Cleaning, not just because we finally get rid of those winter dust bunnies, but because we gain something: space. In New York City, space is a commodity seemingly reserved for those who don’t ride the subway, or those who don’t live in one bedroom apartments, or those far, far away in the distant lands of the outer boroughs. (Astoria counts as the Upper East Side, right?)

So maybe, physically, space is a luxury. But, mentally, it is for the masses.

Sometimes getting space means getting perspective. Getting a good look at something. Getting all the facts first.

Sometimes having space means having a voice. Trusting your intuition. Fueling your fire.

Sometimes finding space means desaturating your News Feed. Keeping only the people and things in your life that allow you to breathe easier.

Sometimes being spacious means connecting with others who need you, or don’t know they need you. Seeing beyond your limitations and sharing a vision to help others. Not dumbing yourself down, shutting yourself up, or keeping yourself safe.

Sometimes giving space to another means seeing them authentically. Ducking out of the way. Letting them hear their own words. Trusting in them.

So maybe mental space is luxurious. But you already have the currency to buy it.

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When do you need space the most? The least? How do you find it?