It's 'Your Majesty', Betch.

Dearly beloved--we are gathered here today, at the Mansion on O Street, to celebrate the royal debauchery that is Wills + Kate.

So. Hot babe KMid brought some serious sparkle back to the Brits this morning and was only slightly outdone by her ridiculously fab younger sister, Pippa, who rocked the vision of a perfect wedding dress...to her own sister's wedding. Balls.Of.Steel.

The Deal: set the alarm for 4AM. Yes, AM. Dragged ourselves outta bed. Slapped on some well-planned outfits, complete with hats + tiaras and booked it to the metro and down to Dupont. Found ourselves on the steps of this infamous abode.



We go in, survey the area, duly note everyone's fashion nods to HRH with hats and dresses and madness everywhere. Grab as many scones + melons + jams that we can fit on a plate. Load up on hot tea. Get ourselves situated in the Log Cabin Room (creepiest of all) and settle in for the show.

Yeah yeah yeah! Crown jewels fo-rizzle.

We visited our favorite bathroom and noticed this little addition.

So over it.

Got lost in a sea of mirrors and secret rooms.

Bought more teacups (cup o' soup!?) + books with our complimentary $25 gift certificates!

wtf. wtf. wtf.

Lusted after the lady of the hour. Get ovah yourself, Kate.

Look up the definition of 'babe' and I'll betcha see a picture of her in yo dictionary.

DRP in all her Random House glory.

Rockin' the sequined top at the least cliched venue.

Oh haiiii!

The loot on the way home + future Foxfield hat.

Delaney Parrish for the win!!

New Business:

Odds that KMid + Wills are toasting one another with a celebratory PBR as we speak: 4-1.

Odds that both girls' dress designs will be available and copied for the commoners by tomorrow: 6-1.

Odds that Pippa + Harry will hook up, after-party style in a powder room at Buckingham Palace: 1million-1.

That's fast math. And I'm betting big.

You're royally welcome,

Hannah

Dapple Grey

Feeling mute today. Or muted, perhaps...

Sending grey waves your way and a little bit of this...

Typewriting madness...

Love.

Tuesday Bluesday,
Hann

There Is A God

Beyonce + Grace Potter = I Die.



Can't wait till June 8!! GPN at the Jefferson Theater!

Let's Go Upstairs and Read My Tarot Cards

All right, all right, all right--I'm still figuring out how to use my camera so these pics don't really do justice to my delicious dresser redesign. BUT--here's a tiny glimpse into how I spent part of my weekend. 

Before: $5 thrift store dresser painted blah granny yellow

Hayley thought she'd help.

After: Fabulous new "Frosted Pine" dresser with white handles! Yeah yeah yeah! I love it.

My thoughts exactly.

Spray paint never looked so good.

Success!!

Happy Sunday Night to You!
xxx

She Is Dust Next to Me

"The blonde is next, and he is someone I used to date and in fact only broke up with around three months ago so I think it'll be easy; I find him in the corner talking to two other guys and I glide over and because I am me I am wearing an incredible dress tonight; this one looks almost like it is made of metal; it has this slinky way of falling all over my hips and I feel like an on faucet in it and of course I am the most dressed up at the party, I always am, but that's the whole point, so when the host inevitably looks down at her everybodyownsthem jeans at the front door and says, 'Oh, but it's not a formal party,' I smile at her with as many teeth as I can fit and wink and say, 'That's fine, that's fine, I just felt like wearing this tonight.' Inevitably, the next time I see that same host she has more lipstick on or a new glittering necklace her mother bought her but lady she is dust next to me inside this silverness."

--Willful Creatures, by Aimee Bender

I Want to Slice Everyone...

...so I am taking this opportunity to harness some zen, center my wee/chi/whatever, sip some GD jasmine tea, and pretend that I never met any of the idiots who surround me on a daily mofo basis. Wish me luck.

Ok. So. Here we have a delicious desk set up, complete with lavender inspiration board and badass, recycled wood table. I'm feeling this in my bones, for sure. And there's that iMac again. Do I smell a theme? Hmmm..

Oh, to be young and waif-life. And to have thick, soft hair to pin into a million knots and braids. I'm getting my usual springtime craving for Ultra-Light, Natty Blonde...but I'm holding out!

This picture is one of the main reasons I decided to re-pierce my nose. Love it. Love it. Love it. Can't wait till I'm reunited with my little hoop (I'm thinking sometime mid-July will do the trick). Then, bring on the sunshine and hot pink lips and I will run this town.

Note the fat lady statue peeping out the window. She's gorgeous.

Also, I couldn't include a zen-master post without some form of feline. Meow.

This photo...is perfection. Thinking about getting it blown up. No, definitely getting it blown up.

Eff everyone at my office. Learn how to hole punch correctly! Stop being incompetent! Let me live my life!!

xxx,

Hann

Watch My Corn Pop Up In Rows

Caught my first whiff of springtime cut-grass this morning. Heaven in my nose. Also, getting a new roommate tonight. Found some sweet gigs in Richmond. Lusting over Aimee Bender for the millionth time. Ready for May and all its adventures... 

Blades of grass to mark my thoughts.



xxx,
Hann

The Fun of Bittersweet Truth

I had a great, much-needed trek home to the 'burg this weekend. Went out with friends. Spent time remembering. Saw the Tiny House 2.0 and realized that it and everything it held--the smell of lavender through a bedroom window; splintered hardwoods under bare feet; pure, uninhibited happiness;  endless freedom and microscopic responsibility; broken locks and drafty windows; technicolor creative juices;  the allurement of secret love--are gone forever from the 709. 

Anyway-back to the grind, new nose piercing in tow.

Feeling mobilized, energized, and completely revived.

Where to go from here?

We shall see.

xxx,

Hann

~~

"He breathed in her hair, the sweet-smelling thickness of it. My father usually agreed with her requests, because stamped in his two-footed stance and jaw was the word Provider, and he loved her the way a bird-watcher's heart leaps when he hears the call of the roseate spoonbill, a fluffy pink wader, calling its lilting coo-coo from the mangroves. Check, says the bird-watcher. Sure, said my father, tapping a handful of mail against her back."
--Aimee Bender, The Particular Sadness of Lemon Cake