NYFW: The Noms

Let's be honest. When you go to NYC, you do it for the shopping, the sights, and the museums, but mostly you do it for the NOMS. We don't want to make too brash a claim, but we'd dare say the Big Apple is the foodie capital of the world (We mean, it's even in the name). However, finding a place to eat can present a daunting task: with so many choices and such a range of cuisines and prices, it's all too easy to find yourself overwhelmed and in a Ruby Tuesday on Time Square. Fear not. If you ever find yourself in the city, try giving any of these places a go. We promise you won't be disappointed!

Jack's Wife Freda

Locations: West Village, Nolita

Oh, Jack's Wife Freda. For me, Katherine, Jack's is a New York staple, and I was so excited to take Maia here after our first show. The meal couldn't be more quintessentially New York: two beans finishing up their runway debut at Fashion Week with a good ol' mediterranean brunch. The owner, whose quirky and stylish figure brings their instagram account, @jackswifefreda, to life, was even there, walking, feet clad in Miu Miu ballet slippers, amongst tables and chatting with regulars, a red and blue breton striped shirt swung carelessly across her shoulders.

What to order: This particular day I, Katherine, went with Maya's Grain Bowl, and I, Maia, went with the Madame Freda (a rendition of a classic croque monsieur, featuring duck prosciutto). Both were beyond delicious. Looking for other suggestions? The Green Shakshuka, Rosewater Waffle, and Mint Lemonade are all winners.

Photos below by Katherine:

Bô Cà Phé

Location: Nolita

Conveniently situated next to Jack's Wife Freda's Nolita location, we resisted the urge to return for dinner and instead checked out french-vietnamese restaurant, Bó Cá Phê. While the service left something to be desired, there's nothing quite like face planting into a bowl of noodles at the end of a long day.

What to order: We both went with the shrimp rice noodle bowl: sweet and savory shrimp over a bed of cold rice noodles, bean sprouts, carrots, garnish, peanut sauce, and a spring roll. I, Maia, also ordered the chicken bao.

By Chloe

We need to preface this section with the fact that it was quite a feat getting me, Maia, into a vegan restaurant. Ya girl loves meat, potatoes, and all things drowning in cheese. You've also probably seen By Chloe featured in my, Katherine's, instagrams and blog posts far too many times to count and are still wondering what all the fuss is about. While I admit, vegan noms aren't for everyone (though they definitely would be if everyone got to eat here), By Chloe is hands down one of my favorite NYC spots. I could spend hours here eating quite possibly everything on the menu.

What to order: I, Katherine, am a creature of habit and went with my go-to, the Quinoa Taco salad. I also ordered a piece of HEAVENLY chocolate chip banana bread because I lack any and all restraint. (I actually do deserve a pat on the back for resisting the urge to order a side of Mac & Cheese. Though I did end up eating a hefty portion of Maia's...) I, Maia, the devoted meat-lover I am, went for the dubious pesto meatball sub (is it even LEGAL to call this tofu concoction a meatball???) and the mac and cheese (which I'll admit was quite a masterpiece of cashew proportions, yet will sadly never replace a good 'ol cheesy heart-attack in a bowl). While the sub pleasantly surprised me, I'm still not entirely sure about this vegan mac and cheese thing. We both admired the mushroom "bacon" on top, Katherine for the taste, Maia for the effort.

Cha Cha Matcha

Finally a meal we can agree on: Cha Cha Matcha was completely worthy of all of the hype. We have been eyeing this spot, which specializes in Matcha lattes and soft serve, for quite some time and were itching to try one of their towering twists. As evidenced by the odd small-hand-picture below, we quickly demolished our creamy soft serve and resisted the urge to go back for more. 

What to order: Vanilla and Matcha twist, Iced Matcha Latte.

Dudley's

Our final real food stop of the trip (We include the word "real" because following this, we proceeded to buy cookies, banana pudding, and ice cream. Obviously on that Fashion Week diet.), Dudley's, with its edgy corner charm, embodies the up and coming East Village. Following a brief wait, we found ourselves a table outside and relished in our last morning in the city.

What to order: Yogurt & Granola (Definitely order another item if you want to feel tided over), Pancakes, and Juice (I, Katherine, went with The Rocket, and I, Maia, went with a watermelon concoction). The Eggs Benny, Rice Salad, and Shrooms Benedict looked worth coming back for!

Levain

We are avid believers in the following rule: if you go to NYC and don't indulge in one of Levain's infamous cookies, you didn't really visit NYC. This place is worth the wait. Every. Single. Time. Just take a moment to admire that molten chocolate goodness. You know you want every cheat day to look like this. 

What to order: I, Katherine, always go with an oatmeal raisin and a chocolate peanut butter. I, Maia, being my first time here, went with the chocolate chip walnut, the chocolate peanut butter, and the single most chocolaty option for my roommate Leila, because if I visited NYC and didn't bring her back an instant cavity, what kind of roomie am I?

Ample Hills Creamery

Okay, I'll admit it. I will officially go on the record and say that I, Katherine Victoria Harrison, have a minor (read: major) obsession with ice cream. After stalking their instagram account for months, I had been DYING to try Ample Hills Creamery, a Brooklyn-based ice cream shop started by two ice cream lovers who felt that there could always be more cookie dough in cookie dough ice cream. Have you ever ordered a classic cone with say, Cookies n Cream, only to be disappointed by an overall lack of Oreo goodness? Not at Ample Hills. The owners actually say they want people to come back and complain about how jam-packed their flavors are. No complaints here. So good, I did come back, but only for more ice cream.

What to order: I think the question is what does one *not* order. Just google the flavors for yourself. Every single one is eclectic, eccentric, and delicious in their own rights. I, Katherine, went with their Ooey Gooey Butter Cake and Honeycomb flavors, and I, Maia, sampled one flavor (sweet cookie something and cream something) and ate it before I could picture it. So so so delish.

As you might be able to tell, we weren't exactly thinking of our runway bods when noming in the city, but who has time for that when there's ice cream and Levain cookies to be had? If you end up checking out any of these places, be sure to let us know what you think! Also, get excited for the final two installments in our NYFW series: the Street Style and the Beans.

Xx, Katherine & Maia

NYFW: The Shows

Veni, vidi, vici.

Well, sort of. In an industry notorious for its insider-outsider dynamic, when it came to viewing the runway shows, it was all fair game. Sure, we may have had to dodge a few extra heads and our fair share of smartphones from our second or third row seats, but it was truly such an honor to experience our first fashion week within less than a year of starting this blog (throwback to February and our fetus days). NYFW truly exceeded our expectations in every regard. Playing dress up, putting together somewhat outrageous combos of clothing, being photographed by hoards of photographers, we couldn't help but feel like the Queen Beans of NYC during our brief two day stint. We had the opportunity to see five shows over the course of Thursday and Friday, and below, we've spotlighted a few of our favorites. Without further postponement, take a walk down the Mod & Bean runway:

Nicholas K, September 8th

A sibling duo established in 2013, Nicholas K centered the show around their signature theme, "urban nomads." With pieces in a range of earthen tones -- from dusty taupes to ashen blacks -- each piece swept fluidly along the runway. As our very first show of the trip, as well as the first official show of fashion week, Nicholas K proved to be worthy of its coveted opening spot: clean, well run, visually interesting yet not outrageous, and overall well crafted. Upon investigation, we found out that around 70% of the designs were created using sustainable materials such as organic cotton and vegetable-dyed leathers! This choice, in compliance with the CFDA, emphasizes the designers' commitment to environmental sustainability. This season's collection was inspired by Wadi Rum, an area in the Jordan Desert, and truly encapsulated what it must be like to dress like a "warrior princess" -- with a soft spot for the environment of course. 

Michael Costello, September 8th

One of our favorite shows out of the five we attended had to be Michael Costello -- a contestant on the eighth season of Project Runway. With decadent flower headpieces and flowing feminine designs, he has truly blossomed from his time on Project Runway to his debut in NYFW. His designs billowed in a deeply rich palette of purples, reds, and pinks, a testament to the Spanish undertones that influenced his collection. Inspired by "a botanical garden at midnight" the movement of his pieces and the grandeur of the whole show quickly entranced the audience, us included. 

Misha Collection, September 9th

Perhaps the most star studded of our shows (featuring guests like Rita Ora, Olivia Culpo, Whitney Port, Danielle Bernstein, and the alleged Kim K), Misha Collection was definitely our favorite -- and not just because of the extensive fan-girling! (We promise we avoided all gauche super-fan behaviors and opted out of asking for pictures, autographs, and the like). Michelle Aznavorian, the Australian born designer, wove together a striking show best described by this snippet on the official NYFW website: "Inspired by the opulent sophistication of European style, [Misha] embodies classic elegance for the modern woman. It is high-end fashion with a sexy edge and has become the destination for show-stopping style." From watching Jourdan Dunn open the show, to enjoying the sporadic bursts of red in a sea of neutrals, sparks of gold in a sea of mattes, and the brilliant array of textures, we were at our giddy peak sitting second row at the beautiful Skylight at Clarkson Square. 

While our trip to Fashion Week only lasted two days, it felt truly electric to be a part of the event in any capacity. Sure we loved seeing the shows live and scrolling through our favorite bloggers' instagrams, exclaiming, "We saw that too!" But even just the opportunity to be in the city during this time, being captured by Getty Images (we're not kidding) and other photographers who probably thought we were more important than we are (pro tip: look past the photographers and you give off this air of "Are we supposed to know those girls? Let's bombard them with cameras just in case!"), is a feeling we will never forget. And for our first trip as the Mod & Bean team? Well, it's going to be tough to top it! 

As we attempt to corral the obscene amount of photos and stories we've gathered from our three day stint, you can look forward to three more posts: The Food, The Streetstyle, and The Beans! 

Xx, Katherine & Maia 

Beaning around to New York Fashion Week

Crazy doesn't begin to describe the whirlwind this past week has been. Between shopping for classes, meeting with advisors, planning concentrations, and catching up with old friends, even planning Mod Meals with one another was proving to be difficult. Just when we thought our schedules couldn't get any busier, Sunday threw us the most unexpected curve ball of them all: the incredible opportunity to attend New York Fashion Week. 

It was a sunny Sunday like any other. We were walking to callbacks for a play we're styling when a friend (shoutout to Jenny Wang) approached us about tickets to fashion week. Just a matter of hours later, we had booked train tickets to New York City and began planning what will prove to be one of the most spontaneous and exciting trips we've embarked on to date (as well as our first trip as the Mod & Bean team)! Moral of the story? When someone walks up to you in the street and offers you tickets to fashion week, you say yes even if said fashion week is only three days later, and all of your previous weekly plans are thrown out the window. (A very universally applicable moral, we know. You can thank us later.) 

We had already planned on brunching at Tatte Bakery and exploring the ever charming Beacon Hill following callbacks, but now we had all the more reason to celebrate. Charles Street and all of its historic brownstones provided the perfect backdrop for a celebratory dance party.

The Food

Much to my, Katherine's, shock, Maia had yet to give Tatte's brunch menu a go, so this was first and foremost on the agenda. The noms? Matcha latte + regular latte + blueberry cheesecake + mushroom tartine + short rib grilled cheese. All equally photogenic as delicious and filling.

Moment of silence for this cheesy goodness.

Following brunch, some brief exploration was in order.

Does it get any more idyllic than Acorn Street?

So, if you're looking for the Bean Team, we'll be noodling around the streets of New York Fashion Week taking endless amounts of photos, and you can bet that said photos will soon find their way on to the blog!

Xx, Katherine & Maia

A Hop Skip to Cincinnati

There are few things for which I'm willing to wake up early enough to catch a morning flight to a different city and be back just after dinner time (aka when all the food spots are closed), but family is definitely one of them. This past week, after I shuffled all of my belongings from Somerville to Cambridge (quite the trek, huh?) and tried to snuggle back into dorm life amidst a non-stop welcoming week for the freshman, I snuck away for a quick day trip to Over The Rhine, Cincinnati, OH to spend my mom's beautiful day of birth with her and my nuclear family. While you might be thinking, "Oh, she's from Miami, Ohio?" I remind you that I'm still flowing with Floridian blood, and the reason the plane flew me to OH instead of MIA is simply that my sister just recently made the move from NYC down to OTR for a year. 

So, for a grand total of about 7 hours, I explored this new city and enjoyed the time with my family all together - as it hadn't happened since my sister's Master's graduation back in May, and won't happen again until Thanksgiving. 

Fresh off the plane, my sister and I drove through the city and paused at Findlay Market to pick up my mom's cake.

As standard little sister protocol, I was left in the car as my sister pulled off to the side to run quickly into the bake shop. This gave me ample time to enjoy the air conditioning before the scorching strolls through OTR, as well as begin to admire the architectural styles that didn't quite resemble anything with which I was familiar. Already armed with my "looking up" perspective and primed with my dad eagerly sending me photos of building corners and doors (probably as frantic proof that he does, indeed read my blog), I set out on the streets of OTR, looking up in awe. Suffice it to say, I enjoyed the colors, textures, and designs that bathed this little neck of the urban woods. 

And what's a trip to a trendy city without tasting their donuts? Holtman's is conveniently near to my sister's apartment, and fusion-y enough to combat the likes of Miami's The Salty Donut and Boston's Union Square and Blackbird Donuts. Fruity pebbles and fluff? Yes, please! 

Even with my limited time in OTR, I managed to squeeze in a quick hug and catch-up with Sara after a long (two week) stretch apart from being roommates! 

As my 8pm takeoff time crept closer, we hurried to celebrate my mom's birthday with a decadent cake that was surprisingly gluten free and dairy free! (Note: Given that I LOVE dairy, and I am reluctant to trust many things sans gluten, I did not expect this rendition of a "German Chocolate Cake" to taste just as heavenly as it actually did. So props to my sister, the healthy daughter, for winning this round). 

Honoring each year of my incredible mom's life with just one candle was definitely not enough for me, but it was more than enough for the fire alarm - hence the frantic fanning of the Airbnb post song and wish. 

While I could've spent a whole week in this city that is reminiscent of a Wynwood (given its varied cultural history coupled with an unfortunate economic decline, and recent rise in youth and popularity) meets Brooklyn style of spot, I had to fly back to Boston to resume my welcoming week duties. Until next time, or the Kentucky Derby, OTR! 

Xx, Maia

A Celebration of Summer

It's move in day! Well, sort of. Today I, Maia, move back on campus, and just a week after that I, Katherine, will be back as well. We write in anxious anticipation of this next school year and all it will bring: our long-awaited Mod & Bean reunion as well as the official declaration of our "concentrations", Harvard jargon for the more common term, "majors".

As we type this post thousands of miles apart, we exchange ideas and smiles over text, gearing up for all of the real life coffee shop talks to come — especially considering two new cafes are set to open in the square come fall: Tatte and Flour. To say we're excited is an understatement!

Considering both our camera rolls are bursting at the seams with unshared photos, we've created a little capsule post bidding farewell to our summers — tossing in some of these unseen pictures for good measure. (I know — for all of the photos we manage to cram into our blog posts, we still have so many that don't make the cut).

Cue some summer outtakes:

(Note our shared gangly human bean-ness). 

Here are two of my, Maia's, favorite outtakes. The first being sheer joy radiating from me as I am face to glass with my favorite animal since childhood. Here's to everyone who said my favorite animal being a capybara was weird!! And second, Cat making me sit next to two, terrifyingly large and hideous groupers at the aquarium (upon our discovery that large, aquatic critters make my skin crawl and cause me to feel an irrational sense of fear.)

Below are a few of my, Katherine's, favorite outtakes. Not particularly remarkable or funny in their own rights, these photos, instead, serve to highlight what really goes on behind the scenes for all of those poised and polished selfies gracing my blog posts. With every instagram worthy outfit or scenery shot, there are about 200 of these awkward stair-downs and interactions with strangers (either that, or me dancing terribly). First set of photos: woman incredibly confused by my standing in the middle of farmer's market. Second: man yelling at me, possibly confused by my holding two entirely separate gelatos. My facial expression in all of them: no shame.

Though packing up apartments/purchasing new dorm decorations seems to occupy all of our time and headspace of late, we found it quite valuable to take a moment and muse over our incredible summers. 

(Some of our travels' finest flora & fauna).

Maybe it's some form of confirmation bias, but we swear every time we chat, we uncover more uncanny similarities between us. It's becoming all the more plausible that we are twins separated at birth — especially given my, Maia's, height is not at all genetically correlated to that of my parents. A talk with them might have to be had. In all seriousness though, in a joking Instagram I, Maia, wrote that I'm the tallest beanstalk in my family. To which I received an ecstatic text from Kat saying her mother affectionately refers to her as her little beanpole. Beanstalk. Beanpole. Beans. Beans! (Read in the voice of Jim mocking Dwight and concluding that, "Fact: Bears eat beets. Bears. Beats. Battle Star Gallactica.") So, turns out there's a fourth layer to our already multi-faceted blog name rationale. Bean for Boston, Bean for Coffee, Bean for Humans, and now Bean for quirky descriptions of our gawky long limbs.

(Some sweet moments with our parents whom we'll miss dearly during the school year.)

Here's to boundless happiness, laughter, and fun blog ideas to come. Here's to a hapless curation of summer candids. Here's to sophomore year being "sophar so good" (I, Maia, will admit to already coming up for the name of my 2016-2017 FB album...) and here's to finally living one door over from each other. 

(Some of our drool-worthy summer noms).

So, as we settle back into the swing of things, excuse any quietness on the blog. Just know that we'll be writing/photographing/brainstorming furiously and whole-heartedly behind the scenes, working to bring fresh and exciting content to our little corner of the web. 

Life is so incredibly exciting right now, what with the end of summer, the beginning of an entirely new school year, and the prospects of living right next door to one another. So if you need us, we'll be off unpacking our college boxes and setting up our new dorm rooms, happily wiping sweat off our brows in the process. 

Xx, Beanpole & Beanstalk 

Looking Up

I used to have an exclusive aesthetic for skewed photos. I remember being the self proclaimed event photographer for my ninth grade trip to NYC with a friend and her mom. Given that I proudly strapped on my offensively pink Nikon J1, my companions trusted me with all visual documentation. Upon excited reveal of my imagery, faux praise couldn’t mask their dismay as every shot was crooked: from the beautiful lines of the empire state building to the perfect set up at Tiffany’s, each 90 degree angle was somehow butchered into what I can only approximate to be a 42.179 degree angle (I once had someone tell me every arbitrary number I selected when exaggerating a claim started with a 4, I have since realized I exaggerate quantities so often that my thumbs are accustomed to the keystroke pattern of reaching for wherever the 4 lies and then furiously tapping other numbers behind it). Well, while my photography skills have not been trained nor honed by any formal education, I’d like to think I’ve moved past from the days in which I thought I was revolutionizing an image by taking it completely lopsided.

On the contrary. Now I find myself fascinated with taking photos of buildings from angles which we don’t normally look at them. Think of your favorite building – that may be a tall order (pun intended), so just think of a building. You’re seeing it head on, are you not? You are facing the door as if it is placed perfectly perpendicular to you, the frame stretching skyward as it should – as it would look if you were gazing upon a scale model of the edifice. But that’s not at all how these buildings look to us when we actually see them (unless you are a giant - for at a lanky 5’11” and some, I’d love to meet others who uncontrollably tower over some of their friends too). We see buildings from the ground up – again, a literal comparison. We, almost always, are on the ground. So we see the bottom of the building, and can crane our neck if we want to gaze and give it that b*tchy head to toe body scan in order to evaluate its style and worth.

So why not photograph buildings in this way? Peering through the lens by bending our necks to peek at the corner of the roof. I think we prefer not to do this because it reminds us of our youth, in the one bad way, where we were stuck seeing the world from underneath counters and only caught it’s full scope on top of people’s shoulders or hoisted in their arms. I, for one, am coming around on this whole perspective. I find it youthfully refreshing to be limited in sight – to be only able of viewing a structure like I am its doll instead of it being my palace. I feel the power shifts in this dynamic, and most adults might not willingly relinquish even this smidgeon of control. But, as I embark on carving out the course of my future come school in a week-ish, I’ll relinquish any piece of power that I can – to feel a bit closer to being a care-free child again.

I am looking up at these buildings as I look forward to these next few years, to these upcoming journeys, to my ultimate future. I look up at buildings all the time now. I admire their face-to-face façade just as much as I longingly appreciate the intricacies in the nooks and crannies that are far from my reach. I mean look at these buildings. Really look at them. Did you ever see that or this or those buildings from this angle?

I can’t take all the credit for this point of view, no, not even the slightest bit. I happily admit I was influenced by instagram accounts like the geometry club, which solely post photos of buildings from the apex of their corner – a perfect triangle if you will. I also think back on a particular photo I studied in my History of Photography class during my freshman fall semester. It depicted a portion of machinery in an industrial factory. The way it was taken made you see the machinery in a way that would be so apparent if we actually captured it the way we see it. I’m wracking my brain for the name of this photo, to give this explanation some merit, and also wishing I didn’t pack away my class notebook in the storage boxes that await me this fall…

The first time I took a photo a la geometry club-esque was of Widener Library. I probably walked past that building 4842920 times my freshman year, as it lined the narrow corridor that fed me right to my dorm door. I walked past the building like I had countless times before, but, for some reason, that day I looked up. Maybe I had a thought, or one of those blank stares, or even a gaze into the distance like That’s So Raven, but instead of staring straight ahead and locking eyes with an unsuspecting passerby, I looked up. I looked up at Widener. I saw Widener like this. I was pretty proud of this photo, especially given that it predated my Nikon D5300 and somehow my trusty iPhone 6 pulled through.

So what did I do with a decent shot? I instagrammed it of course. And, surprisingly, people thought it was pretty cool. No longer was I being scolded for taking my photos unorganically, unorthodoxically, or borderline unethically. For once, my off-kilter shot accrued praise in lieu of poison. And, as any user of social media will admit, the near instant gratification and positive reinforcement whetted my appetite for more. And, from then on, I looked up. I looked up at buildings, I honed in on their corners, their juts, their most over-looked angles. And this is how I began to see buildings and see the world.

(Looking up at trees is also pretty cool, and don't even get me started on the fresh flower boxes dotting quaint neighborhoods in the 617)

This perspective has turned into a five month photo project, as the Widener shot was taken sometime in mid March and we’re now trudging our way through August. Though 339 photos qualified for this extended metaphor, I achingly selected the best 55 to include in this post – but I will admit keeping the others hidden feels like abandoning some of my children…

And with the copious amounts of photos (from my summer travels in NYC, Miami, and Boston) taken when looking up, I sign off happily as I look forward to the journeys and new perspectives that await me. 

Xx, Maia

Door to Door

Friends, readers, and first time visitors, it's been a little over two months since we, Kat and Maia, have been in the same place, let alone time zone, to collaborate on a post. Assuming you've been itching to hear the two beans in tandem once again -- the moment has arrived! Without further deprivation of our joint voice, we have come together to share a shamelessly hokey metaphor in an attempt to describe how distant our lives have been this summer, yet, as always, how strikingly similar. 

We're here to take you from door to door: from shore to shore, from Europe to Boston. With no prior planning or foresight, we both happened to accumulate a modest collection of photos of colorful and quirky doors that we passed by here and there. What better way, then, to discuss our geographically separated summers than looking at them through said passageways? 

Top photo: Somerville Tapas Restaurant, Dalí's, iconic entrance

~

There were Cafes boasting AC, coveted wifi, and snacks that filled our tummies as much as they satiated our aesthetic. 

Left: a NYC breakfast spot, Right: the Miami "gossip and brunch" place

And archways that acted as entrances to hidden gems and colorful nooks. 

Left: the official passageway to Miami's Wynwood Walls, Right: Snuck this photo through a small wrought-iron gate while in London.

The color blue seemed to be a popular choice.

Top row: Frigiliana, Spain, Bottom left: Nerja, Spain, Bottom right: Kensington, London, (By house number) 7: Spain, 1365: Somerville, 342: Notting Hill

Classic wood a close second.

Top left: Frigiliana, Top right: Nerja, Bottom left: London, Bottom right: Nerja

There were those that doubled as opulently crafted works of art, connecting our nineteen year-old selves to timeless history. 

Top row: Miami's Viscaya Museum and Garden is framed in these ornate iron doors, Bottom left: Door to a church in Comillas, Spain, Bottom right: apparently there's a Castle at BU?

And those that lead to little treasures. 

Left: a Little Lending Library in Somerville, Right: a Beacon Hill gate that presumably leads to a secret garden, Bottom: a quaint art studio in Madrid

There were those leading to metros (our favored form of transportation -- be it in Boston, New York, London, or Spain).

Those opening toward internships.

Those leading up to our dream brownstone in New York City.

And simply those that caught our eyes.

(Top grid) Top left: North End, Top right: Somerville, Middle left and right: Somerville, Bottom left: Church at BU, Bottom right: Newbury Street, (Bottom Grid) Notting Hill

No matter how far apart we physically were, we somehow found ourselves adventuring similar trails -- an unintentional ode to our synchronized minds and hearts, a testament to how much we would love to travel together sometime in the future. So -- here's to entering doors that lead us to new places, and here's to finally being back together in one country - now we're just working on being back in the same state... 

Xx, Kat & Maia 

A Colorful Comeback

Thinking back on my younger days, some of my fondest memories are of doodling and drawing designs and creatures on anything from a restaurant’s beverage napkin to yards of construction paper. With every scribble and color splashed onto a page, I was proud of my creation – and I presented them to my parents and friends with such gusto you would have thought I believed I was the next Picasso. Those freeform drawings later evolved into more outlined drawings, as I learned how to “color inside the lines.” When given an image to simply color in, the stress of ingenuity was lifted, and I could then focus on the imperative matching of harmonious colors and texture techniques. Mind you, I make it sound like I could/can draw – when I tell you my illustrations are tortured, please believe me.

Though I still catch myself doodling from time to time, whether it is in an effort to keep myself awake – I mean focused – during a lengthy class or just to spruce up a little note for a friend, I haven’t actually sat down to draw or color something since those “youthful” days.

That all changed when the coloring book craze populated my birthday presents and began filling my desk. I acquired books like the mindfulness-coloring book and the Parisian fashion one, but the most revered of all - the Vogue coloring book of course! This gem of a book landed in my lap after a brief dry bar blowout and cocktail encounter with Dani, one of my sister’s college friends, in New York. Dani works for Knopf, the publishing house of the Vogue coloring book, and she graciously sent me a early-released copy after a conversation about my blog and general catching up when I saw her at my sister’s golden birthday party (25 on March 25th!).

A few days after that, the book arrived in my college mail center, and instantly became the highlight of my day. In my hands I held the brand new Vogue coloring book! Filled to the brim with opulent designs and nods to previous magazine covers. Oh how excited I was to actually color it! Flashbacks of my childhood doodle days came flooding back as I purchased pocket-sized coloring pencils from a local tchotchke shop (I figured teeny tiny pencils would supplement this whimsical activity).

Once I was set with my pencils in tow and my book carefully packed in my backpack, I was ready to finally enter the craze of adult coloring. What I didn’t anticipate, however, was getting so wrapped up in finals period and spending more time in the dark hallows of Lamont library than sitting on the Widener steps and coloring Vogue designs like I had dreamed.

In hindsight, I probably should've taken advantage of the coloring book’s soothing effects during finals. Instead, I was slumped in the library nursing the small iced coffee I accidentally purchased instead of a large, trying to make it last long enough so I didn't have to *shudder* go downstairs to get another.

After surviving finals, what ended up happening with the dreamy coloring books? I ended up using them in social zones as a fun activity to gossip with friends while keeping occupied. I guess trying to catch up on each other’s lives was more taxing than expected – everyone's brutally specific relationship details or college-centric extracurricular stories caused uncontrollable fidgetiness among an audience of friends. Apparently coloring is a more palatable antidote than simultaneously scrolling through Instagram and nodding, "Yep, I'm listening. Continue." So I busted out my three coloring books with friends and instantly added color and whimsy to these hour-long talks.

This sharing motif actually ended up spreading from small social circles to as far as a whole coloring book event at a bookstore in Newbury St. last night! I rallied Sara, my go-to-adventure buddy and soon-will-be-missed roommate, and with childhood dreams in tow we checked it out. The event couldn’t have captured this coloring book craze any better – this shift of culture back to the youthful activities we all once relished. Black and white pages were sprawled across dining tables as "grown-ups" colored their way back to their childhood.  

However, due to entirely underestimating the volume of millennials with the same Thursday evening activity in mind, Sara and I were sadly turned away from this coloring (and cider!!) event, and had to shuffle our ticket-less selves through this if-a-bookstore-was-a-candy-store type haven and onto the streets (of Newbury). So we snagged some smoothies and had our own coloring event - my Raven Symoné like instincts had nudged me to grab my coloring books and some Crayola from my apartment just in case. 

Turns out my graphic designer and all around "arteeest" of a friend truly colored the Vogue book like it deserved to be colored - with draping, shading, layering, the works! The amount of detail she spent in achieving lifelike shadowing on this red dress justifies the amount of photos I took of her working on this particular design. Plus, the Vogue coloring book itself is already a masterpiece, and being able to color in such iconic imagery imparts an air of importance onto the craft - as if the act of coloring has an official, grown up, mod stamp of approval. 

Checkout the carousel of photos below for some inside peaks at the glamorous eras that populate the inspiring Vogue Coloring Book!

Regardless of the setting, be it an official community coloring event or a casual gathering with friends, there's something quite whimsical and rather soothing about grasping the rainbow and channeling it into designs that are a bit more sophisticated than outlines of kiddie characters. So, what's my take on coloring past your youthful prime? I'm all for it. There are countless songs, and poems, and elders woefully pondering, "why is youth wasted on the young?" It's not wasted my friends - it's gifted onto the young. For the young bumble through their days with all of this imagination and excitement, and wielding a sharpened Crayola becomes the vessel between their ideas and their tangible representation. Maybe that's a broad claim on my part. And maybe coloring books aren't the end all and be all determination of a creative and happy society. But, for a brief moment, they can be. And regardless if they are or if they are not, I encourage you all to pick up a coloring book and scribble all over it. You can even add another (rather educational) layer to your "childish" endeavor by rekindling your fondness of the alphabet from Vogue’s Automobile to Zebra!

Xx, Maia

Sunday Quips & Anecdotes

“So it’s the people of privilege who get work experience or have the luxury of thinking about what they want to do as a career in that field. We should be concerned about coming up with ways to make sure that everyone has an equal opportunity to start something.” – Alexa Chung

On the days I find myself stuck in thoughts, lacking the proper wording to transport my feelings from my heart and my mind to the world, I find refuge in the phrasing of others. Whether it be in the wit and charm of the authors of my summer reads (note a side smile at Alexa Chung and Glenn O’Brien), or even quotes found hidden in social media captions, I find that sometimes other’s can convey what I cannot. And not only does this alleviate some of the frustration of not being able to express certain feelings, it also makes me feel like I must not be the only one who feels these unnamed moments, for if someone else can pen them, they must certainly feel them too.

"There are some feelings you will never find words for, you will learn to name them after the ones who gave them to you." - Maza Dohta

Today, on a particularly lazy Sunday, I am here to patch together some of the sayings I've encountered this summer, along with the snacks that accompanied the thoughts. 

Here, hidden in a newspaper from a hotel, a book from a model turned entrepreneur, any text for that matter, are the phrases I found most resonating. So, take them for yourself as you will – find in them what you need to find. We don’t have to see them or read them in the same way. They don’t all have to serve you the way they served me or the way they were written to be served. Read them as you need them. There are quotes for the ideas and inspirations budding inside of you; there are sayings for the more solemn and quiet of times whispering in your heart, and there are words that genuinely make you laugh out loud and tease a smile onto your face. Again, you’ll read it the way it is most useful to you. I’m just here to curate words in ways that inspired me in hopes that they will, in turn, inspire you.

Alexa Chung, IT

"It's a juxtaposition I strongly endorse. If left to their own devices, children dress very similarly to elderly crazy cat women – and I love it. Our affinity for fashion often starts at a young age. Most of the things I wear today are a throwback to the items I owned as a child. Minus the multi-colored harem trousers. You know what you like, so follow your gut.” - Alexa Chung

“The nicest thing I heard during the worst time in my life was this: ‘you have to suffer heartbreak so you know what to tell your daughter when she has her heart broken.” - Alexa Chung*

*I’d also like to interject the caveat that I’m fortunate to not have had my heart broken in my nineteen years. But I know I can’t escape the unfortunate and inevitable, and I can only imagine that one day I will find Chung-level comfort in a phrase like this one. 

Set aside Moments for Your Own Wisdom

At some point during my first year of college, I acquired the knack for recording things in a hortizontally bound sketchbook – a blank page-filled, starchy brown bound book, the one with the wooden art figurine outlined on the front, ample page space for ideas, ramblings, unforgiving sketches (I recall having written in response to a college supplement question that my drawing ability was tortured to say the least, and all my depictions of cats ended up looking like four-legged pumpkins), and the like.

I managed to fill my first notebook in the fall with post-it’s of to do lists, ideas that populated my mind, mid lecture, or woke me up during day dreams (again, mid lecture), and the occasional symmetrical scribble.

The spring brought more of the same, yet the summer, oh the summer, has been so radically inspiring. I have all this time, well aside from work, in which I am free to let my mind traverse new paths.

Sometimes I catch myself admiring the brilliantly colored flowers that are so different from everything I've been accustomed to back home. Other times, I read one scrap of writing that intrigues me enough to fall down the rabbit hole of jumping from one lead to the next – and then I’m furiously jotting down the most unforgettable quotes I stumble on upon the way. In fairness to you, readers, I want to give you a glimpse at this chaos I struggle to put into words (notice a theme here?), yet in fairness to my thoughts, I should probably keep them somewhat to myself – at least in their nascent state. So let’s compromise. You can look but you can’t read - for the most part. And because my handwriting is a sore in it of itself (that’s what I get for writing exclusively in cursive during elementary, and then trying to copy the curvature of my sister’s y’s and q’s while also trying to have my own flair). 

Given that two of the books that I have read this summer (which I found the most whimsically interesting) are both texturedly bound in canvas or whatever material that is, I find myself thinking on what my book would look like if I ever wrote one – forget what in the world it would be about, I want it to look like it matters. Like someone would be proud to own it, for both its content and, yes, for its cover. But, regardless of what my book looks like, or reads like, this post will surely, inevitably, wrap itself into a chapter.

Orienting Information

I’m an optimistic believer in things happening for a reason, that everything happens for the highest good for you in that moment (I hear the echo of my mother's voice as I write this). Following this mantra, I’m spending this summer being quite open to random occurrences, like finding a pretty looking book in my apartment that has now sparked a love for a new author, or striking up a conversation with a woman at the Public Garden because she was seeking to officiate a wedding in the spot where I was picnicking with a friend.

I also feel like the mantra I mentioned leads me into this next quote:

“Sometimes I smell my parents on my words. And I weep.” – Nayyirah Waheed

See, I'm being entirely serious! Ask my friend Jordan if you still don't believe this happened. 

Goodness Gracious, Glenn O'Brien

I am thankful for a slow-paced day a couple of weekends ago that left me sitting on the couch and able to catch a glimpse of a mint colored book tucked away under what I think might be a Phantom of the Opera mask in my apartment (mind you, since I'm just subletting, my apartment came fully and quirkily furnished - and I love it). This book turned out to be the wonder that is, How to Be a Man by Glenn O'Brien. Though I did not seek this book out as a trusty tell-all manual for how to live my life as a more powerful gentleman, I turned to it as satire and eagerly flipped through the pages as I chuckled to myself. 

Here are some of the funniest, if not most notable passages I found. Though, unfortunately I must admit I am not too far along in this book since the uncomfortable glares and glances I received when I brought this on the bus with me to work prompted me to tuck it away in my backpack and hurriedly order another, more unsuspecting O'Brien title. 

“Today chivalry is taken to mean opening the car door for a woman or giving her your arm when she’s picking her way over cobblestones in Manolo Blahnik spikes. In short, chivalry is now about making a woman feel like a lady.” - Glenn O'Brien

“But we’ll fight like gentlemen of a new age. Our weapons will not be broadsword, mace, and cudgel; they will be wit, satire, mockery, and chiding. Not the longbow but the bon mot.” - Glenn O'Brien

“We are made to walk. If we do not, we will lose the ability. If you can walk there, do it, not only for the exercise but because that’s how a man [ahem, and a woman… this is one rare instance in which a rule for “How to Be a Man” can be aptly applied to females as well] gets ideas. The rhythm of walking, combined with the concept of moving from point to point, is the perfect context for ideation. I’ve gotten many of my best ideas on sidewalks and fairways. Musicians and songwriters have often told me that walking is a good mode for picking tunes up out of the firmament.” - Glenn O'Brien

Soap Box, not Box Soap

As I googled and googled for another O'Brien book, I found, what I thought was titled "Box Soap" and purchased it with one click (thank you Amazon Prime!). I have now realized it's called Soap Box, and now it makes much more sense. In this conglomeration of writing, O'Brien simply sheds light on topics he finds worth his time - my idol. Every moment I have had since this book plopped into my mailbox on Friday has been spent actually laughing while reading, and here's what I've enjoyed so far:

“I also thought it was very important to be funny, because how else can you be taken seriously?” - Glenn O'Brien

“Hip is mysterious. Sometimes it doesn’t appear until adulthood, sometimes it disappears altogether soon after its appearance – making the formerly hip person seem in retrospect to have been the victim of himself. The mechanism of hip is like the mechanism of possession, because you can’t own it, you can’t hang on to it, you can only tune it in and stay tuned.” - Glenn O'Brien

“When you’re hip you’re Intense but Chill. When you’re hip you’re Bad. As in Good Bad But Not Evil. When you’re hip you’re always wearing shades to protect others from your own brilliance.” - Glenn O'Brien

“As Leonard Cohen says, there’s a crack in everything, that’s how the light gets in. Hey, don’t throw that out. Just because it’s a little damaged. It has the mystique of an antique already. Give me a crack at that. I’ll take the broken one every time – at least you can see what is wrong.” - Glenn O'Brien

“Like yoghurt in the fridge, they’re keeping our culture on ice.” - Glenn O'Brien

Bright & Early

Sometimes I enjoy the gusto of planning a morning adventure that seizes the day before it should even be considered a reasonable waking hour on a Sunday. Today's 6:30am alarm was brought by the craving for a T-Rex bagel and the wherewithal to anticipate the line out the door (you would've thought the bagel was going extinct!) before Bagelsaurus even opened at 8am. Since no one was really awake at that hour to accompany me via voice on my journey, I turned to the words of Glenn O'Brien for chuckles in between the updates to my Snapchat Story chronicle. Well, folks, I did it! I woke up, got me a bagel, and promptly returned home for a nap. I'd say it was a successful Sunday all before 9am. 

If you're looking for a palate whetting description of this bagel, peep my previous post on Touristing in Boston! But, as always, here are some delectable shots. Also, please take note at how much mess ensues from this meal, and imagine me corralling all of this paper and almond butter on a cramped flight to New York - yup, that happened. 

Even though it's been quite the productive and simultaneously lazy Sunday, groceries will unfortunately not purchase themselves so I'm off. But, I'll leave you with these two sayings that are similar in sentiment: 

"Edit your life frequently and ruthlessly. It’s your masterpiece after all."  – Nathan W. Morris

"You are allowed to be both a masterpiece and a work in progress, simultaneously." – Sophia Bush

Xx, Maia

Stumbling around Somerville & Onto Adventures

Sometimes I really don't understand Boston weather. I mean, I am aware that four different seasons are still a somewhat foreign concept for me (as Miami really only has hot, super hot, excruciatingly hot, and unbearably hot & humid), but having one weekend be in the 60's and the next weekend shoot up to the 90's is a phenomenon I might never grasp. Though simultaneously scrapping together summer linens to layer for that one chilly weekend that just passed and also crafting a daily ensemble that doesn't trap you in your own perspiration yet is demure enough for work is a feat, finding little adventures to fill the weekends seem to just fall in my lap. In trying to recount the past week or so of my summer in Somerville (apt neighborhood, right?), I've realized that I managed to beat the heat in ways that would probably end up on a Buzzfeed "Top 20 Picturesque, Summer Date Activities in Boston" - yet I am here to show you that all of those go to dates can be equally as enjoyable with friends instead. 

I'm thinking particularly of my weekend with Leila (my college best friend) and Ambika (her freshman year roommate) in which we probably did the most touristy, adorable, and silly dates any young Bostonian couple might embark on as well. We frolicked with swans in the Boston Public Garden (mind you my camera does not zoom, so getting a photo of this majestic bird this close was rather brave of me... need I remind you of the iguana incident?), peacefully rode the swan boat in the lake, and visited both the MFA & the Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum (both of which have been thoroughly profiled on this blog so I will save the extensive imagery and just leave you with these select few shots to demonstrate that summer in Boston is even more beautiful than I could've pictured - literally and figuratively). 

While the work-week presented far less opportunities for day time dates with friends, the weekend swept in to fill my ache for adventure. Now I'm talking about the little carnival some friends and I stumbled upon. While the photos might not give it away, this carnival was in fact off the side of the road. Given that geographical fact, we realized we should probably only trust the bumper cars and the ferris wheel, and maybe the fried dough if we didn't lick the powdered sugar off of our fingers afterwards.

Though sometimes adventures can turn out dingier than one would like, it's the company of the people who endure the discomfort with you that make for the best times and the funniest of memories. 

Luckily, Sunday brunch proved to be far more trustworthy. After a second attempt at brunching at North St. Grille per the recommendation of a friend (last Sunday the wait was an hour and our grumbling stomach's were not having it), today my friend Cat, roommate-turned-friend Sara, and I managed to snag a booth at this gem of a restaurant. Granted, we did wait for 45 minutes, but our desire for adventure kept our first-meal-of-the-day hunger at bay. We proudly left our names on the waiting list and aimlessly strolled about the North End, dipping in side streets and following the direction of nothing but the harbor in the horizon. Hence finding the quaintest marina and ergonomic seating to pass the time. Cat, a fellow Miamian, noted how this area felt so much like Coconut Grove back home, and I couldn't have agreed more - especially after our outlandish brunch felt so much like a trip to Greenstreet. 

And, without further ado, please indulge me as I take a moment to fawn over this morning's feast. The fare ranged from your typical scrambled eggs coated in cheese (just me? Maybe...), corned beef pancakes, and juicy bacon, to a mocktailed "Raspberry Lime Ricky," nutella french toast (hi Greenstreet!), bourbon banana french toast, and crudité french toast. Let me repeat that. Crudité french toast: warm brie cheese oozing out of petite french toast slices, bathed in a maple glaze, and garnished with crisp apple slices. Better known as pure heaven.

Cat said it best, in this great city of Boston we are all aiming for "Life, liberty, and the pursuit of brunch." So, if I were you, I'd make a Sunday trip to North St. Grille and happily wait the hour or so for a table - because you can so perfectly use that time to simply bask in the beauty that is Boston.

And for adventures like those with friends like these, I am able to forget about the heat and be simply & truly happy.

Xx, Maia 

America: a Day Over 240

This past Monday wrapped up the 240th anniversary of our independence as a nation. I have celebrated this holiday 18 times in Miami, and, for the 19th time last night, in Boston. While I must say it was unusual to not have to dodge palm trees covering the fireworks, I truly enjoyed my Bostonian 4th (and the long weekend it gifted me)! So here's my moment to sprawl out all the photos I took this weekend and giggle about the adventures amidst the celebration. 

Saturday, the 2nd

Saturday was spent on a trek to Singing Beach in Manchester, MA with a group of friends. And by group of friends I mean Eric, a college friend who was dragged along so I wouldn't be the third wheel for my roommate, Sara, and her visiting boyfriend, Justin. Anyway, the four of us enjoyed the breeziness detracting from the heat of the beach, as there was no way to refresh ourselves in that 60 degree, "bone-chilling" water. Even a little ladybug felt patriotic, and crawled on top of a little American flag I purchased from the square - think some sort of deep symbolism about the luck of a ladybug and her attraction to America. 

Sunday, the 3rd

Sunday was a bit more low-profile, as I had to catch up on projects for work and knew I would be doing absolutely none of that on Monday. At night, however, my third-wheel skills were summoned and Sara, Justin, and I headed to The Lawn on D for some music and those lit up swings (if I'm being completely honest). We made the trip, got the pics, and almost missed the bus home, but it was worth it to be touristy and partake in the festivities happening all around the city. 

Monday, the 4th

Monday sparkled even before fireworks fizzled in the sky. I woke up to the scent of cinnamon pancakes (the best smell aside from bacon, which would've also been wafting had we not consumed the whole package pre-beach trip) and my sweet roommate setting up breakfast for her boyfriend AND me! We decided to satiate our inner Pinterestness and decorate our pancakes in honor of the birthday girl. 

After insisting that I retire my "much desired" third wheels for the day, I walked down to Harvard Square to meet up with another friend, Sarah, for a mellow picnic by the Charles (complete with fruit and Noch's of course). Our picnic was serene and replenishing, definitely providing us with the energy needed to elbow through the large crowds present at the evening events. 

We headed towards the Esplanade to hear the Pops and see the fireworks, but thoroughly underestimated the volume of people with the same idea. Though we were blocked off from actually reaching the Esplanade, we found a cozy little side street near Beacon Hill to hear the music, see the light show, and feel the patriotic vibe. It felt almost surreal to be present at the very place I had seen on TV for many years, and it was definitely the perfect close to my first Bostonian 4th. 

Sara and Justin chose an adorable way to celebrate as well: renting kayaks and floating along the Charles for the spectacular. Here are some of her picturesque views. 

Overall, while the 4th kept me up late on the eve of a day of work, I felt honored to be a part of the way this city celebrates our independence. So, happy 240th America, you're looking ~lit~! 

Xx, Maia 

Clash of the Art Scenes

So far, you readers have gotten a feel for Miami as a hometown and as a buffet of sorts. Now, in my final post about this beloved, sunny city, I want to ponder the dichotomy that exists in some pockets of Miami's art scene. I'm talking about the modern pop-ups and the more historical treasures that populate the city and contribute to it's overall "fusion" vibe. 

Miami itself is quite a nascent city - fairly young and skipper as opposed to other cities I have come to think of like home (*cough* Boston, I'm looking at you). This means our history is not as deep rooted, giving us room to blossom with diverse amalgamation. Since this topic is quite broad, if not borderline existential, let me narrow the scope. If we were to think of Miami as this new city, perhaps in its 20's as compared to its wiser and weathered city-peers, it would make sense that Miami is in the phase of reinventing herself. (Yes, Miami is a gal - think bronzed skin, beachy hair, and legs for days). She is trying on all of these different hats and vibes, seeing who she'll become as a result of the lives that dwell within her. Granted this metaphor materializes in highways built, the growth of the tourist economy, and other factors that clearly don't apply to your standard 20 year old. But indulge me.  

Before she became the hip, food-truck laden, Art Basel boasting city she is now - she found comfort in the tried and true styles that came before her. Let's use the Viscaya Mansion as an example for this classic period in her life. 

The Viscaya Mansion, formerly Villa Viscaya, used to be home to tycoon James Deering, one of three Deering brothers who also planted their mansion seeds along the drive from Viscaya to my old high school. James Deering, a conservationist, built his home with the intention of preserving local mangroves all along his property. In a present day visit to his estate, you can see the flourishing mangroves all along your walk. Upon Deerings death in 1925, his estate was handed to his nieces who couldn't keep up the cost of maintenance, especially with constant hurricanes rattling the property. Eventually, the city of Miami-Dade acquired the property and restored it to the interactive art museum it is today. 

In a recent trip my friend Sofia and I made to Viscaya, we were impressed with the lushness of the property, it's beauty, and it's expanse - I'm even remembering a particular tower of flights in the mansion and wondering how fit Deering and his visitors must have been to reach all the floors and corners of his estate. 

The mansion itself is roped off in parts like any other living museum. So your dream of seeing if you fit on one of those tiny beds (seriously, was everyone much smaller back in the day?) might not come true on this trip. But you know what dream will come true? You becoming a part of the artwork. Sofi and I could definitely not resist acting out our most statuesque poses in order to "blend" in with Deering's impressive collection. 

Sorry, back on topic. Viscaya is actually a very apt vehicle for this overarching metaphor - the one of Miami being a fusion of old and new. The mansion itself was designed with a European theme, borrowing architectural styles from Italy and France, yet constructed using Cuban materials with Floridian coral trimmings and native vegetation - a ~fusion~ in it of itself, right? 

As expected, the mansion decor is just as opulent as the nature bathing the property. Though there were plenty of signs saying no photos, I took that to mean no flash... so here all of the out of focus vertical shots are the ones I snagged with my slick iPhone skills. 

Overall, my trip to Viscaya helped me transport back to Miami as it was before - as she was before she figured she had to "keep up with the Joneses." (Who is this Jones family and why are they always setting the trends?!)

Anyway, just a few more exits up the highway takes you to the Wynwood Art District, which, as noted in my prior post, is home of Zak the Baker, The Salty Donut, and the seemingly last remainder of a good 'ol Jugofresh now that Whole Foods has swallowed them all up. But, aside from the decadent food coating the area, Wynwood is certainly known for it's eclectic art scene. 

For a little background, Wynwood sprouted as an art inspired/tech focused/certifiable melting pot in the mid 2000's. It is recognized mostly by its ever-changing graffiti - think paintings and pieces covering buildings and facilities, "commissioned chaos" one might say. Wynwood is also a bit of an extension of the fashion/design district of Miami, so you'll definitely see people dressed-to-impress in order to satisfy photos in front of the Wynwood Walls (if not because the people who frolic Wynwood are genuinely cooler than the people who visit Viscaya - sorry to all the girls doing their Quinceñera photoshoots the day I visited Viscaya...).

Though countless tourists may now take for granted what negotiations went behind cleaning up this neighborhood and transforming it into a pedestrian gallery, we have Tony Goldman to thank for it all. Goldman, who passed away in 2012, was a property developer who had visions for the potential of areas like this one, and opened up restaurants to encourage traction. He bought up all the properties, comprised mostly of warehouses, since Wynwood used to be a garment district, and figured he could make one of the largest, walking, outdoor galleries if he teamed up with local artists. And that, my friends, is exactly what he did. He had the foresight to turn windowless buildings into actual blank canvases and fostered relationships with the local artists to build respect for these platforms and circumvent vandalism. Given that story, what Wynwood has become today is all the more impressive. 

From the Wynwood to the Walls (thank you Lil John and The Eastside Boyz for setting up my pun), this sector of Miami definitely embodies the modern phase of Miami - the phase she, as a city, is definitely vibing since it brings visitors from all over the world to her concrete yard. 

So, while Miami from a Birdseye view might seem like a battle between modernity and antiquity, I'd have to disagree. I'd say this artistic conflict is only another materialization of the dichotomies that make Miami the unique city that she is. From the food, to the people, to the culture, to the art, Miami fuses it all and that is yet another reason that I am incredibly proud to call it my home. 

Xx, Maia

Mod Meals: Miami Eats

It's almost the middle of the summer, and somehow I've transitioned from my tranquil Miami life to a comically hectic Boston routine (save the countless bruises and scratches from bike snafus with curbs, poles, and any other collision that causes public embarrassment). Sitting in my apartment after work and nomming on the abundance of fruit I bought before it goes bad, has me reminiscing about all of the Miami meals that were just a drive away from the house. Miami has a knack for keeping things colorful, fresh, and fusion-y, and the food is no exception. Though I've grown up going to the same few restaurants (shoutout to Roaster's and Toaster's), I've also been in the city long enough to find new sweet spots that are hailing modern cuisine. So, in an attempt to cure my nostalgia and simultaneously make myself ravenously hungry for dinner, here are some of my favorite bites - and if you ever find yourself in Miami, do yourself a favor and check these out (on your way to or from the beach of course). 

Playa Paradise

I figure I'll start off with just a snacking tip that I've discovered over my years living by the pool and frequenting the beach. Yes, I love piña coladas and getting caught in the rain, but let's skip out on the rain and add some cheesy fries instead, for any and all of your aquatic adventures. I understand this might be a ridiculous combination, but if you know me at all, you are well aware of my love for potatoes, cheese, and frothy beverages. So, while this might not be your favorite meal of this post, it might actually be mine. Serving size: yours and the seagulls'. 

Greenstreet Goodies

In a luscious sector of Miami, a few of my favorite restaurants have sprouted and blossomed. I'm talking about three places in particular, all located in Coconut Grove. First, let's talk Greenstreet Cafe. I've probably been eating here since before I could hold a fork, so I've definitely got my go to meal locked and loaded. It consists of their fluffy red velvet pancakes (yes, for breakfast not dessert) and some eggs bathed in cheddar and sprinkled with the most melt-in-your-mouth potatoes in the city. I kid you not, I have often ordered sides on sides of these potatoes, and even have a polaroid photo of them hanging in my dorm room. Serving size: share if you can, except with your one friend who is allergic to red food coloring of course - in that case, just save it all for yourself ;) 

Lokal but not low cal

This second Grove treasure, Lokal, is actually a recent addition for me. I have been hearing about a "heart attack" burger from several people, and have had it described as a burger bunned between two glazed donuts! Yes, please! (I hope you start realizing I'm not the Kale-iest of eaters). But, upon dragging a bunch of friends to dine with me and be witnesses should I actually require medical assistance from this heart exploding dish, I was even more impressed with the actual fare. This "Childhood Dream" burger also came with the crispiest, candied bacon. And, let me tell you, it definitely lived up to the hype. Serving size: a guilty pleasure for one, but not for the faint of heart. 

Sweet, Bianco Gelato

After that heart attack burger, what's better than washing it down with some creamy, organic gelato? Cue Bianco Gelato in the Grove. It's a quaint little gelato shop with the funkiest of feel-good flavors. My friend's friend actually used to own it (that whole five degrees of separation theory? Definitely a thing in Miami). This time I got a flavor that I could barely pronounce, so my recommendation would be to find the longest name on the menu and order two scoops. Serving size: you could be flirty for two or intelligently selfish for you and you alone. 

Zak the (Bae)ker

From Coconut Grove let's travel to Wynwood - one of the city's most "happening" places in art, tech, and grub. While it would take me an entire other post to taste all of Wynwood's offerings, I'm just going to talk about my "must-go-snack-here-whenever-i-visit-Miami" spots. Zak the Baker is a kosher bakery with the most rich, crumbly, and flavorful pastries/dishes. Their menu changes daily, if I recall correctly, so each visit is a surprise - each treat equally as tasty so don't worry! I always opt for a sweet snack (think cashew butter and cinnamon, freshly made jam, or strawberries and cream) on one of Zak's hand-made breads. Peep a quiche in one of these photos too - if my friend Leila hadn't completely devoured it, I would've loved to have tried it and give it my stamp of approval. They also sell these incredible chocolate cookies baked with sea salt, check 'em out! And don't forget to rinse your palette with some of their fresh juice! Serving size: you think you're going to share but it becomes evident you won't. 

The Salty, and super long line, Donut

The Salty Donut is one of those hip and trendy pop up food trucks. It has been recently gaining stead, so my rumbling stomach prompted the trip to try it for myself. I actually went on National Donut Day (only to sadly turn around after a 35 min drive because they sold out early) and again the next day (only to wait in a 45 min line in the scorching Miami heat). But, when I tell you they had a Bacon donut, "spiked" donut holes, and even a gluten-free chocolate option, you'd opt for the farmer's tan-inducing wait as well. Serving size: you'll order one of each and tell your mom you'll share, but she doesn't believe you, so she gets her own box. 

Jugofresh for some fresh jugo

Jugofresh, though not exclusively a Wynwood gem, is a Miamian's go to for a healthy but happy and refreshing snack. I used to order their smoothies, but once I hopped on the açai bowl train, try to pry me off. I am very much a creature of habit (hence often times ordering the same dish at the same restaurant for 19 years), so the only bowl I order is dubbed the Sunset Harbor Açai bowl. Insider tip: ask for extra brazil nut crumble. And, while I'm disheartened that they've closed almost all of their shops in order to become a sector of the Whole Foods chain (find them in the old juice section, RIP) I will travel to wherever they go in order to get my fresh fix. Serving size: the bowls are huge so unless you haven't eaten all day, you'll probably need to freeze it and nom on it later. 

Threefold, THE brunch & chat hub

I discovered Threefold Cafe at the end of last summer, so I could only dine there once - but I have continued to dream of its dishes. I went back to Threefold for another round of their delicate, vanilla waffles over winter break, and perfectly coupled this meal with a side of "eggies" and much needed gossip. This summer, I think I went to Threefold every week I was home, and surprisingly found a new favorite: they call it the "Not So French Toast." This name aptly describes the soft bread bathed in eggs and sandwiched over prosciutto and ricotta, with bacon crumbles dusted on top. Ask for some bourbon syrup and happily eat your way into a food coma. I also tried their tower of guava pancakes and was both overwhelmed by the size of the stack and by the flavor birthed at each bite. Serving size: depending on how much gossip you have to catch up on, your food will get cold if you're talking and don't share. 

Knaus your ordinary Berry

Knausberry Farms, while not even technically in Miami (because of the hefty drive down south), nor a spot I travelled to this summer, is home to fond memories for almost all Miami natives. I'm including it in this post as a place to look forward to when I come home in the winter, for it will finally be strawberry season! (Read with giddy excitement). During strawberry season, Knausberry opens up its fields for the pickings. So bust out your cutest overalls, drive top down with all of your friends, and reward yourself with their legendary cinnamon rolls and strawberry shakes. Serving size: for once, the more the merrier, and I mean it! 

Now that I've worked up quite the drool over all of these truly mod Miami meals, I should probably go make dinner and satisfy my hunger. If you found yourself salivating at these photos as much as I did, do us both a favor and go snack at some of these spots when you visit Miami. Or, better yet, just go to Miami for these foods. 

Xx, Maia 

The Madness that is Manus x Machina

Approximately 3,394 miles separate the two of us this summer, as Katherine gallivants around Spain for her study abroad program and Maia frolics through the Boston suburbs for her internship. Though distance and a hefty time difference keep us apart, we sought a way to stay connected that was more powerful than sporadic texts and sweet comments on each other’s Instagram photos: We went to Manus x Machina at the MET. Not together, unfortunately. Rather, weeks apart. But knowing we both traversed those hallowed halls and ogled at the same garments made us feel back as a team, with one view, one take away. Almost as if we were at one of our classic Crema Cafe meetings, sipping on hot chocolates, snacking on pastries, and laughing about how we always think of the same things.

The improbable task of writing this joint post over Google Drive and Whatsapp has made us realize we are more alike than we previously imagined. We both walked away from this exhibit, curated by Andrew Bolton, with oddly similar thoughts, vibes, and commentary. Without further ado, this is what we saw and what we have to say about it ― a cross-ocean commune of thoughts and sentiments:

Upon entering, we weren't exactly sure what we expected, and the exhibit offered far more than we anticipated — by sheer volume, size, categorization, and grandiosity.

The exhibit begins with the famous wedding ensemble by Karl Lagerfeld for the House of Chanel. Worn as a finale piece by none other than Cara Delevingne and made of a scuba material, baring a train whose pixelated print was extended some twenty feet for the exhibition, the dress provides the ideal platform for which to showcase the dichotomy of the exhibit, that is, between man and machine. While the gown constituted the signature piece for an equally signature Chanel collection, it was not necessarily couture in the traditional sense (note the plaque’s quote from Lagerfeld describing the dress as, “haute couture without the couture”), in that it did not require the hours of intensive hand labor characteristic of couture fashion. In fact, the dress was nearly entirely of machine creation, the crux lying in the fact that it was birthed, ultimately, of the human mind.

Though the wedding dress occupied its own spacious, dome-shaped room, the remainder of the pieces seemed rather cramped in the narrow and dimly lit concentric hallways (and this is why we ask you to excuse the blurriness of some of our photos ― the low lighting and fighting of elbow jabs didn’t make for prime photographic conditions). Other than this human to human physicality, the main backdrop of the exhibit is a choral ensemble of sorts ― an oddly pious and holy sounding "ohm" that seems more in place at a church as opposed to an exhibit on fashion. The cathedral music paired with the sheer beauty of the pieces lent to an overwhelmingly spiritual experience for the both of us. Then again, that may have been the exhibit's intention — to stretch beyond the physical platform of fashion and couture and to define the intersect between man and machine, technology and antiquity, in a worldly sense. Regardless, the music built perhaps the greatest contrast in its being the soundtrack to the chaos that surrounded and filled the exhibition: the crowds, the narrow corridors, the somewhat burdensome demanding of one's attention. If fashion is for the consumer, it seems that the consumer was now the consumed — we were entrenched both in art and in obligation.  

For us, this feeling of obligation had a profound effect on the overall flow of the exhibit. We felt ourselves caught in an ambivalent state between viewing and photographing. Both desiring to take the exhibit in and to still document it, we ended up viewing much of it through our lenses ― just as the myriad people around us were: locked behind phone screens and camera viewfinders. Such an unfortunate realization captured the very essence of the exhibit. Man and machine, the intersection, the consumption. In this case, machine consumed man. No longer were we free to peruse at our own ease and pleasure, rather, we were caught behind our iPhones and in between the shoulders of countless strangers.

(Side note from Maia: when I left the MET, I was walking behind two schoolgirls, around age 10 at max, in matching uniforms, skipping and singing the most ominous song: “I’m being swallowed by a boa constrictor and I don’t like it very much.” The song, while terrifying had this occurred at night or in a horror movie, seemed to aptly echo my sentiments about tourist centric claustrophobia that I of course added to nonetheless.)

However, we did not allow the cramped quarters and 'rat race' quality of the exhibition to entirely jade our viewing of its constituent pieces, as it ultimately was an incredible experience. (We couldn't help but imagine how beautiful it might be to see a runway showing featuring an amalgam of all of the garments). We loved the organization of the exhibit; the rooms and pieces were divided thematically ― pleats, prints, dyes, so on ― so as to highlight the process, specifically the genesis (or lack there of) it has undergone with the advent of mechanization, behind each's construction. We were surprised, namely, by the florals. Florals for Manus x Machina? Groundbreaking. If you, our readers, recall our Met Gala review post, we found ourselves slightly confused at the inclusion of floral ensembles amidst the Gala's more futuristic garbs. However, upon viewing the floral pieces in their intended exhibit, thus witnessing their place on the spectrum of man and machine, we finally understand that the florals fit the theme quite well, quite seamlessly if you will. The flowers adorning most of these pieces were sculpted using gelatin in order to increase malleability and stability. They were crafted using multi step processes like metal presses and cold water baths. In the end, most were hand sewn on to their base in order to both anchor the flowers to one another and secure them to the final piece. Through the exhibition, we came to see the flowers in a different light ― one that underscored the delicate balance between man and machine. Manus x Machina was not an exhibit on futuristic fashion, a tribute to automaton-like pieces, it was a tribute to the method and technique that goes behind modern couture, a tribute to the malleability not only of flowers adorning gowns but of ideas, notions, and concepts ― how the very meaning of couture changes as technology improves, as the overlap between man and machine becomes even more ambiguous.  

Overall, pushing aside the cramped quality of the space itself, we left with a truer understanding of the exhibit’s intended dichotomy. As the introduction states:

“Instead of presenting the handmade and the machine-made as oppositional, this exhibition suggests a spectrum or continuum of practice, whereby the hand and the machine are equal and mutual protagonists in solving problems, enhancing design practices, and advancing the future of fashion.” - MET plaque

We initially expected the exhibit to be a showcase of dresses indicative of mechanization and the future (think Jordan Dunn’s metallic gown and other robotic homages). But really, the exhibit was meant to showcase the process as much as, if not more than, the product. While the flow of the exhibit felt rushed at times (in the sense that we could only dedicate some five seconds looking at a piece before being shuffled on to the next) we felt ecstatic to have gone and seen it ― especially considering it gave us the overarching feeling of being together, even when many, many miles apart.

Xx, Katherine & Maia

Growing Up Where Most Vacation

A little slice of paradise during my staycation.

Today, I write with just five short days left in Miami. I've spent four warm weeks in my summer haven, soaking up all of the sun, salt, and sand before I head back up to Boston for a 9-week internship (cue becoming an adult!). In these four weeks that I've been home, I've been more like a tourist than usual; constantly clutching my camera like a newborn and toting it around town in order to document all of my adventures. As I procrastinate packing my bags, I am reflecting on all the classic Miami activities I've loaded into my time here and smiling as I realize how fortunate I am to have grown up in this eclectic city. And here's why:

I present to you, readers and lovers of summer, my favorite things about the 305, my home, my paradise - save a few more in depth adventure stories coming later (think: Wynwood, Viscaya Museum & Gardens, and all the good eats Miami has to offer). 

The first thing many people ask when they hear I'm from Miami is if I live on the beach. For the sake of saving face with my actual beach-based friends, my answer is no, I do not live on the beach. In fact, I laugh as I recall the many years I despised the beach: the feeling of gritty sand in all the places it shouldn't be, the dry sensation of salt ingrained in my skin, and the painful knots in my hair after a dip in the ocean. You can even ask my dad about this. He'll chuckle upon remembering having to carry a stubborn toddler from the shore to the car in an effort to avoid getting even a grain of sand on her precious feet. 

But, at a ripe nineteen years of age, I can say that I've actually now grown fond of the beach - probably because I've been deprived of it all year. There's something that rings true to the saying, "you don't know what you've got till it's gone." Yes, the beach can be scorching and sticky under all those coats of sunscreen (fact: I burn, not tan, and yes, I am a disgrace to my Miamian blood as I don a ghostly glow instead of a tropical tan all summer), however, being able to swim in clear, warm waters whenever the fancy strikes me, I admit, is a treat I've taken for granted. 

My beautiful friend Maria who lives more at the beach than at her house. 

I now realize that what I'll probably miss most when I leave Miami is the ease and ability to take a spur of the moment trip for a good swim anywhere along the coast, from SoBe to the Keys - I am a pisces after all. 

If I am to be completely honest though, what really makes these aquatic adventures even better are the snacks! I'm not talking about the meals at Zak the Baker or Threefold Cafe (but stay tuned for those mouthwatering food pics in upcoming posts), rather, gourmet goodies we bring with us from Publix, a true hometown treasure. 

If you've ever met a Floridian, you know they possess an intense pride for Publix - a local grocery chain that is much more than what it sounds like. To follow this train of thought: trips to Publix, "where shopping is a pleasure," are in fact one of the favored activities of any true Floridian. To give you background: everyone has a neighborhood Publix and none of them are the same. Try finding the pasta aisle in your friend's Publix - hah, it's nearly impossible. Is it inefficient to have radically different Publix layouts for each store, you ask? Nope, not at all. I'd argue that it is part of the ~charm~.

Alexa and I demonstrating how Publix brings out our inner child. 

What is comforting is that your Publix is yours and yours alone (plus everyone else that lives in the nearby radius), a truly unique childhood spot and unlike any other location. It's somehow comforting to have been shopping at the same grocery store since you could walk, be able to go back to it after months away, and still manage to travel the route to the cheese section by memory, or not even having to look up when grabbing that can of soup because it's been in the same spot since your Publix opened it's doors. Whereas going to your friend's neighborhood Publix, though not as seamless of a trip as usual, is like learning a whole new language. It doesn't replace your mother tongue, but it's enjoyable to expand your repertoire. 

A photo capturing my love for cheese and Publix. 

If it's not readily apparent to you, I love Publix. I love running into old friends and their parents, hearing the latest gossip while waiting in the notoriously slow deli section line - extra time for chismes? I'll take it! Aside from the famed Publix subs (confession: I've never had one...), what I love most about Publix is that everyone knows you and has seen you grow up. It's like family, but with SO much food (the best combo - in my opinion). Oh! And one more thing: there is a supposed Publix phenomenon regarding attractive bag boys. Every homegrown Floridian girl has had a crush on a Publix bag boy at one point or another - I can guarantee it. Not only have I heard stories from Floridian friends over the years, but even last week some of my friends mentioned they had their eye on a good looking fellow who graciously helped carry their groceries to their car. Publix, where shopping is truly a pleasure. 

Peep the catchphrase! 

Anyway, aside from beaches and Publix (two of the most Miami-centric topics aside from Calle Ocho), I must mention a brief appreciation for our local flora and fauna. If I had to pick the most lush spot in the city, aside from the gorgeous Fairchild Botanical Garden, it would have to be a particular stretch of Old Cutler Road right before it hits the Cocoplum Circle. This part of the street is warmly enveloped by tons of trees, forming a natural tunnel that is so comforting it's like driving through a hug. While I tried my very best to photograph this metaphor, I'm not quite sure if the photos I took, while dangling out the passenger side window, really do it justice:

Other than all the palm trees, orchids, and other vegetation, another notable part of Miami nature is the abundance of tropical critters. I have never seen more peacocks in my life than on my front lawn, or more iguanas roaming free than at a little beach in Key Largo. The peacocks are fairly harmless - mostly just napping on the rooftop of my old Volkswagen Bug. The iguanas, on the other hand, are more menacing than one would think. 

Just another cute lil Floridian birdie.

In an effort to squeeze in one last staycation before I left Miami, my family, friends, and I took a weekend trip down to the Keys. This included stopping at the Southernmost point of Florida - an emotional moment for my mom as this is the closest tip of the United States to Cuba (her motherland) - as well as sweating through some family beach volleyball.

But, none of that good 'ol family camaraderie will imprint as vivid of a memory as what happened to my friend Val as we ate a beachside lunch on Sunday. All of us were lounging under a beach tiki and nomming on burgers, fish tacos, and fries when we heard Valerie shriek. Our heads whipped to her direction only to spot an iguana pounce on her lap in an effort to steal her buns (the burger kind). Val threw her burger in the air and then fell off her chair as the iguana crawled up her body. Surviving with just a scratch on her knee from falling on the nearby cement steps, Val was traumatized - and we were all cackling, once we ensured she was okay of course. Our waitress witnessed the whole incident, and brought Val a fresh burger on the house. Though there were no pictures of the actual attack, the only proof I can provide you is this shot of Val's burger splayed all over her bag and this picture of the receipt warranting her free meal:

I guess not all iguanas were as friendly and photogenic as this one I found. 

Other than the iguana incident, my time in Miami has been smooth sailing. Being able to catch up with hometown friends, eat home-cooked meals or classic restaurant favorites, and soak up days of Vitamin D has been truly nutritious and refreshing. And now I think I'm ready to say goodbye to my childhood paradise and embark on my next adventures in Boston as a working girl. 

Keep up with Mod & Bean as I post more in depth reviews of my time in Wynwood, Viscaya, etc. as well as the countless adulting stories I'm sure I'll accumulate in the weeks to come! 

Xx, Maia

In a New York Minute

There's something fresh about the city that never sleeps. I'm not talking about the freshness of the "clean" underground subway or even the blooming vegetation - because I'm pretty sure one cube of park doesn't cut it for this Miami born girl. I'm talking about the unique pace, the lifestyle, and simply the one-of-a-kind vibe that encases this "concrete jungle."

I found myself in "the city" for a week after successfully packing up my Beantown life and driving it to my sister's Upper West Side apartment, where it lingered until all bags and boxes were schlepped through the LGA airport back to Miami. Aside from being a temporary luggage pit stop, a trip to New York City plopped into my schedule because my sister was prepping to graduate from her Columbia master's program and putting together some festivities for her recent engagement. But that all occurred later on in the week. So what'd I do with my precious time in this fast paced city? I explored of course! Everything from the shops to the museums to the food. And though most days I would have solo excursions given that all my New York friends were either lounging in the suburbs or stuck in high school, I had a blissful time nonetheless - and heavily documented it thanks to my new camera and amateur photography attempts. 

After spending ample time with my sister and her fiancé, I sought some alone time to explore the city for the first time on my own. My first stop: shopping in Soho. I peeked in all the stores A to Zara and purchased new summer necessities, fatiguing my triceps and calfs along the way. I then figured that the perfect way to replenish my exhausting retail workout was to take some shots - of the cookie variety. 

A little break at the Dominique Ansel Bakery, accompanied by my beautiful friend Juliette, was all I needed in order to zen and nom on some delicious sweets. As I was waiting for Juliette to meet me, I had time to relax and enjoy my surroundings for a bit. This was when I realized I had truly been running around all day, and though I thoroughly enjoyed every moment, my day had become reduced to just that: a continual string of individual moments. Each second accounted for, either in transit or in purchasing, no moment really to just "stop and stare." When I finally did take a break from hustling to and from all the bright colored Soho shops, it felt like I was supposed to be doing something - maximizing my time in some way because everyone around me was rushing. Am I already late for the next bit of my adventure? Is every New Yorker the anxious Alice in Wonderland rabbit? What even is a New York minute? 

A New York minute is an instant, a flash, a zip of a taxi or a whoosh of a subway car. And it truly is a unique form of time present in this city that never sleeps. From that moment on, I continuously found myself walking quickly or snapping photos at an excessive speed; really just doing anything I would normally do but at an exponential pace. Since I only had a week to cram in everything I wanted to do during my independent exploration time, I didn't worry too much about not having time to lounge (my four weeks in Miami should satiate that desire). 

From Soho until Sunday, I managed to squeeze in a trip to the Met (to check out the Manus x Machina exhibit of course - which will be up on the blog once Katherine gets to visit the exhibit and we can do a cute FaceTime collaboration post!), snack stops at trendy, local spots, gushing over my brilliant sister at her graduation, admiring her beautiful 8 year old relationship with her fiancé at her engagement party, and spending time with some unexpected friends before I left.

As I reminisce on this past week, I am already salivating over all the delicious snackitude - so I might as well put all of you out of your misery already and just show you what I'm talking about:

And here's a sneak peek of the stunning Met exhibit. Which, by the way, took me quite a bit to find since I insisted on maintaining my independence and was determined to find this exhibit without the help of museum staff or knowledgeable visitors. Rookie mistake. I ended up going in circles and getting momentarily lost in the reception-less burrows of the museum.  

I would also like to take a quick moment to share some shots from the Columbia graduation because it was such a beautiful vision of sky blue robes and inflatable mascots representing each master's program. Here's my stunning older sister donning her grad garb and proudly holding a plush zucchini to represent the Institute of Human Nutrition. Also peep her on the big screen! Sisi, I'm so proud of you and all of your accomplishments! <3 

And here she is with her fiancé, Joe. For a quick personal anecdote: they've been dating since I was 11 years old. High school sweethearts in the flesh. At their engagement party, while it is customary for parents to share some encouraging words, I was asked to speak as well. Given that I had not prepared a single word, all I could muster was something along the lines of, "After 8 years, I consider myself a professional third wheel. So thank you for finally making it worthwhile." In all seriousness though, I am so happy for the both of them and am excited to one day have a relationship as loving and devoted as theirs. 

After all of these festivities and visits from families near and far, I met up with more City friends and even stumbled upon a street fair! 

So, all in all, though my week in New York was hectic by any measure, I was functioning on a typical New York schedule. Quick meal with so and so here, quick scamper to the museum there, and quick soaking in of all the city has to offer. I even look forward to potentially living in New York sometime in the future - during which I'll definitely learn to live on a string of New York minutes. But, for now as I'm writing to you in Miami, I like being able to just sit and relax and not worry that I'll be late for a very important date. 

Xx, Maia 

Summer Shenanigans - join us!

Just last August, we embarked on our first year here at Harvard. Today, on a beautiful, sunny, 70 degree day (reading period weather finally gone!), we are saying goodbye to schoolwork and hello to summer! It seems like just yesterday we were sitting in Crema on February 13th whipping up the idea for this blog, and here we are, still at Crema and still avoiding schoolwork (shoutout to our 2pm finals). We write not to say goodbye but to share what to look forward to from the Mod & Bean team come these summer days.

In three months, we'll span the globe, do some research, and maintain a healthy appetite that does not include Berg (sorry, HUDS, we love you but yeah...). We're so excited to grow the blog through our coming adventures, and give you all a sneak peek into our separate lives before we join back together this fall. Seeking more deets? Here you go --

Katherine: At the beginning of the summer, I'm heading to Michigan (the first time I'll be 'home' since moving away from ATL last May!) and lounging about until my birthday (June 5th). Expect lots of recipe posts made with fresh farmers markets finds! Also, prepare yourself to be jealous of the ridiculous amount of fresh Michigan-grown berries I'll be consuming. Come June, I'm staying in my favorite city, New York, for a few days, reuniting with my roommate and blockmate, Veronica. From NYC, I'm flying into London for a week, then to Madrid, then to the Mediterranean, and I'll finally be settling into Spain for 4 weeks of language instruction at the University of Leon and 3 weeks of an internship in Madrid. Afterwards, I'll finish up my summer traveling throughout Europe: think France, Amsterdam, Italy, etc. All of this is to say, expect way too many food and travel posts from me!

Maia: Next week I'll be heading to New York to celebrate my sister's graduation from her Master's program as well as her recent engagement (congrats again!!). This will be a great excuse for more banana pudding from Magnolia Bakery and tons of museum excursions. Then I'll be headed home to the tropical 305 for a healthy overdose of Vitamin D and a thorough stuffing of all my favorite Miami eats. Think botanical gardens, beach, and much needed lounging. Trust me, after 4 weeks you'll know Miami like it's your home too. After playtime comes work, and I'll be back in Beantown to do Montessori research with a team at the MIT Media Lab. Cue living on my own (in non campus housing) and learning how to be a real human bean. Basically, you'll get to know my two hometowns very, very, well. 

Stay Tuned and don't forget to follow us along on Instagram (@modandbean & @katherineharrison & @maialeandra) to satisfy your hankering for live updates. 

Xx, Kat & Maia 

Manus x Machina: a Met Gala Review

The MFA's Techstyle exhibit lingering fresh in our minds, the celebrity studded Manus x Machina -themed Met Gala further ignited our love for this recurring fashion-is-the-future theme. Clicking through Elle magazine's endless carousel of the night's looks as we battle Finals Season colds and attempt to stay dry during the monotonous rain of this week, we cherry picked some of our favorite looks and figured, in the spirit of doing anything but schoolwork, we'd toss them into a blog post. 

Cue the stunning shot above: Jourdan Dunn immediately captured our attention in her metallic Balmain gown. Dunn was a refreshing canvas for Balmain's lead designer, Olivier Rousteing  (while the Balmain-Kardashian relationship has produced some stunning looks, it's become a bit commonplace seeing the klan in Rousteing's corset ensembles event after event). Dunn's tailored Balmain piece managed to stand out in an ocean of disco balls and scaly fish filets — and truly embodied the dichotomy of (wo)man and machine. 

Other gowns, like those donned by Naomi Watts and Nicole Kidman, reminded us of Hunger Games-esque fashions — you know, like those dashing socialites who live in the Capitol. As we moved from picture to picture, designer to designer, we blurted the first adjectives that came to our minds: "Lobster" and "column" for the more disappointing pieces, "Queen of the Galaxy" tumbling off our tongues for Watts and Kidman. 

Men's red carpet wear didn't seem to provide the most compelling canvas for the Manus x Machina theme, but we loved the metal arms on Zayn Malik's classic black tie look. His date, Gigi Hadid, stood out with brushed metal rings and chrome nails featuring over $2000 in crystals.

Photo Credit: Billboard

Photo Credit: US Magazine

One of the nights most captivating ensembles came in the pairing of Claire Danes with designer Zac Posen for the incredible LED-laden gown shown below. When the lights went down, the organza 'Cinderella-esque at first sight' gown reveals the intricate fiber optics beneath.

While we soon found ourselves bored by the sheer volume of attendees donning metallic frocks and ensembles, we did like Kristen Stewart's striking silver eye makeup.

Photo Credit: Popsugar

We also couldn't help but think of how perfect Valentino's recent galaxy collection would have been for the night (this might just be our love of Valentino gowns talking though).

The night featured tons of incredible on-theme looks — from Lupita's sky high hair and emerald green dress to Selena Gomez's steampunk Louis Vuitton piece — but a fair share of guests went a more traditional route, donning dresses, beautiful in their own rights, yet more akin to what one might expect on a typical red carpet. Below we've gathered some of our favorite looks that, while not embodying the Manus x Machine theme per say, were tasteful choices nonetheless.

Photo Credit: People Style Watch

Zoe Saldana

Photo Credit: Popsugar

Looking through red carpet looks following star-studded events like the Met Gala has long been a joy for the both of us, this year being no exception. Neither of us can contain our excitement over getting to see the Manus x Machina curated by Andrew Bolton when we visit the city this summer!

Xx Katherine & Maia 

Picnics > Papers

Now that we're in the throngs of reading period, amidst endless rainy days and a turn for chillier weather, we want to remind ourselves of the sunny days both behind and ahead of us. The high stress environment of Harvard can often be exacerbated as finals approach. Even though classes no longer strictly regiment our schedules, every day seems full — of work, of things to do. Our minds occupied with expos research papers, we’re saying farewell to impromptu naps and that wonderful sensation of waking up with nothing to do.

Peep Katherine actually reading her magazine and Maia using hers to shield the sun from interrupting her nap. 

Even with all of these deadlines and exams looming over us, it’s important to cherish these last moments on campus and reflect on what the year has brought us. To be sappy, the year has brought us, the Mod & Bean team, together. More than ever, we find ourselves hanging out, simply for each other’s company: unplanned adventures turning into blog posts, free afternoons turning into picnics.

On one of our last days of school, we found ourselves sitting in a grassy patch of Old Yard, lounging on turkish blankets, listening to Jaymes Young, reading magazines, and snacking on gourmet treats from Cardullo’s (if you’re ever looking for the perfect aged salami or stuffed olive jar — this is your spot).

Here’s to the semester and commemorating our last good dose of Vitamin D for a little while longer (the rainy weather of this reading period isn’t making us feel guilty about missing out on too many outdoor excursions).

While library/coffee shop dates and late nights might replace whole day trips for some tasty gelato, here is what you can look forward to from the Mod & Bean team in the days to come: a Formal recap, a Mother’s Day treat, a peek inside the new Vogue Coloring Book, and a farewell to our first year in college (with bonus dorm tours!). Stay tuned and stop procrastinating by being on our blog . . . (Just kidding — we appreciate all the eyes <3)

Follow us on instagram at @modandbean!

Xx, Katherine & Maia

(Photos by Katherine)

Tourist for a Weekend

As the spring semester comes to a close, I must admit that a part of me has been craving home, longing for that sunny Miami vibrancy and the comfort of familiarity. My craving was satiated with a surprise visit from one of my best friends from the 305: Maria! Upon arrival on a Friday evening, we resolved to stay inside and have a snuggly night, sharing our perspective college experiences, while watching She’s the Man and eating popcorn underneath a plethora of fuzzy blankets and pillows hand selected from Urban Outfitters. 

My weekend mission was to bring my friend from Miami into the fold of my new home. So, since Saturday morning brought cravings for a hearty breakfast, we scampered off to Henrietta’s Table for a classic “treat yourself” meal. A tall glass of OJ was probably the lightest part of our meal, as we proceeded to order the creamiest, heaviest, warmest, coziest dish – or maybe that was just me… 

After we washed down an hour or so of a continuation of much needed catching up and giggling about old antics with a cup of coffee, we set out to the MFA – per Katherine’s glowing reviews and the mere fact that Maria and I were both avid museum prowlers back in our younger days (special thanks to the Perez Art Museum in Miami for breeding this passion in us). 

Aside from the joy of finding out that Harvard students receive free entrance to the MFA (seriously, this is such a perk!), Maria and I serendipitously found ourselves standing behind a truly mod 8-year old. In front of us stood a young girl with a pink moto jacket, combat boots, and a skirt made out of a print of Van Gogh’s Starry Night. Of course we had to talk to her. 

Marissa and her dad told us this was their first trip together to the museum – as Marissa had been begging him to visit since she could remember. Her skirt was hand sewn by her grandmother, and was definitely a testament to her genuine curiosity about art (future daughters of mine please take note). We ended up running into her and her father at different points in the museum, and each time we smiled as we overheard her fervently inquiring about the story behind each piece. 

Suffice it to say, the MFA did not disappoint. We crammed as much as we could of the Textiles exhibit, as well as the other wings, of the museum into our brief excursion. At that moment, we realized that we had embarked on a typical tourist weekend. (In the interest of finishing the story of our touristy two days, I included the abundance of photos I took at the MFA in a carousel at the end of this post – peruse at your pleasure). 

After a casual stroll about the museum, the grumblings of our stomachs led us to a delightful surprise in the museum café. I must say the food is pretty spot on. (And for any of the people who know me and are going to see this picture of a salad, don't worry, I was feeling okay when I ordered it, and for those of you less familiar with my eating habits, lets just say leafy greens aren't usually my go to). The ambiance of the café is definitely pristine and refreshing, providing you with a brief respite complete with bright lighting and good eats. 

As we wrapped up lunch, we couldn’t help but spot a fellow visitor in a rather loud ensemble. Donning a fully floral suit, this man was standing in front of (and blending in with) an installation of bikes – which seems quite implausible since his suit was screaming – well, if suits could scream. Yet the mixture of colors present on that fabric seemed to echo the metallic blues of the bikes he dripped into as he passed them by. 

Upon leaving the museum, a particular art piece caught the corner of my eye. It wasn’t the glaring green that grabbed me, rather it was the familiar glass spokes that instantly resonated in my heart. I had spotted a Chihuly in the atrium of the MFA!

Without delving too deep into stories about my childhood, I will say that Chihuly holds a warm and familiar place in my heart as his art was often on display at the Fairchild Botanical Garden, one of my very favorite places to go to back home in Miami. I took this as a sign – not only was I ecstatic that Maria was here to visit for the weekend, but she (and this piece of Chihuly) were the little bits of home I needed to reinvigorate my drive to finish out the semester strong. 

Later that night, I snuck Maria, along with the Mod & Bean team, in to cover press for the Identities Fashion Show. In just one day, I’m pretty sure Maria perceived quite a glamorous view of Beantown.

The next morning brought longings for warm bagels and a hunger strong enough to willingly wait in the 30 minute Bagelsaurus line – which, I must say, is always worth it.

As if our T-Rex bagels overflowing with bananas and bacon and oozing out almond butter and honey weren’t satisfying enough, we swung by Mike’s Pastry to get a taste of a Bostonian classic, which successfully sent us into a delicious food coma. 

The rest of the day was filled with shopping (no surprise there) and more long overdue laughter. Getting to take the weekend off and show Maria the city that has come to also feel like home to me was enough to get me thinking about my actual place within Boston, in the 617. While I’m a proud Miamian born and raised, I will be spending more of these next four years in Boston than I will be back home. So is Boston home for now? Do I dare call myself a Bostonian if I’m only here under the guise of red-brick encased studies? It seems too hefty a title to call myself a local, yet it seems like I’ve also outgrown tourist status – well, aside from taking Maria to all the classic hotspots this weekend. I’ve actually asked some of my Boston-born friends what they think of this: should college students be considered locals? Residents? Tourists? Everyone has a different answer. It seems to me that we are no longer tourists but not yet locals, as we carefully teeter around the balance between doe eyed curiosity and weathered knowledge of our surroundings. 

I suppose I cannot quite be considered a local, or even a resident of the 617, but whatever I am, I still try to distance myself from being caught up with the tourists who are visiting our campus. I often catch myself clutching my backpack extra tight and trying to walk with a gait that I think will notify everyone that I do in fact go here, and that no, I’m not just gunning to rub the foot of John Harvard and take my picture in front of Widener Library.

However, as this glamorous weekend came to a close and before Maria and I did our classic Carrie Diaries spin-off of “it’s not a goodbye, it’s a see you later”, she insisted on one picture in front of good ‘ol Widener. I was pretty reluctant, but her boisterous personality won out (as it usually does) and she lunged at a passerby, asking him if he’d take a photo of us and reassuring him that I actually go here... for my sake.

Xx, Maia

 "You will get to experience the delights of La Citta Eterna, Rome. Eternal City. Did no one read the info packets?" - The LIzzie McGuire Movie

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