Exaggerating zero when I say that this chandelier (which is HUUUUUGE and RIDICULOUSLY cool-looking) has completely made our living room. If you have a space that needs a style kick and are looking to invest a little $ (but actually a very reasonable amount for a light fixture, because those things can get crazy-pricey), highly recommend this one.

 Joey Fatone's Letter To One Direction: 'Everything Is About To Be Terrible' (via Above Average) is HYSTERICAL. (Also it's not real. It was more fun when I thought it was, but that's okay: still hysterical.)

 To all my friends with whom I tried to schedule drinks pre-New York departure (and all my friends generally): I am Vermont’s heroin epidemic multiplied by Bill Cosby. (Let's Get Drinks, via The New Yorker.)

Meet my new favorite fragrance.

For years and years I wore Bond No. 9's Nuits de Noho exclusively - it was my "thing" - and then I went all rogue and started playing with rose perfumes and scents I found at Renaissance Faires and such. I love the idea of having a "signature" fragrance, but since I don't know how to track down Robin Hood to make him sell me more Gemini oil, I've been looking for something really different and special. Something I love.

Found it.

What do these things have to do with each other? Virtually nothing, except for pictures of both of them are open on my desktop right now.

The fish tank, because I am a glutton for punishment and have decided that I want to add more responsibility to my life in the form of aquatic creatures who must be cared for daily and deliver exactly nothing in the way of love or affection in return. And because that fish tank is really cool-looking.

The bras, because my bra situation is depressing and it's time to fix it. Last time I visited Francesca, I was changing in front of her, and when she caught sight of my underthings she said, "JORDAN. You are not allowed to wear that bra."

Carmel never gets old for me.

I mean, the town is definitely a bit of a spectacle: everyone is super wealthy (or at least that's how it appears) - we're talking Maseratis and Lamborghinis literally lining the streets - which creates an atmosphere that might not be to everyone's taste. (As an example, we saw one twenty-year-old driving down the street in his red Ferrari with his red Ferrari hat on and talking - loudly, of course - into his red Ferrari-covered cell. Eeeeeeughhh.)

But occasional bursts of attitude aside, there's also such a lovely small-coastal-town vibe. Sort of like Cape Cod, minus the lobster. And it's beautiful - to get there, you wind down a road past stunning little Spanish-style houses, and if you keep going all the way down to the water you find the most perfect white sand sloping down into a bright blue cove. Great (albeit expensive) shopping, great food, great weather, great drive; definitely one of my all-time favorite day trips.

Alright, Francesca. Hand over the shoes.

...Anytime. Really.

When you have a friend who is Italian and is always running off to Italy to see her Italian relatives, you get to hear stories like this: "So I found these gorgeous Prada platforms that I really liked but they were a fortune, and then I was in this little boutique in Italy and stumbled across a man forging handmade shoes from ancient wooden shipwrecks and linen woven by nuns, and he made me a pair exactly like the Prada ones I'd been wanting except they cost three dollars, and then he fed me prosciutto and sparkling rose in the sunbaked piazza and we fell in love."