molly would

C L O U D H U N T E R

Sun, 05 Feb 2012 14:59:37 -0500

Let this be a mood board for the unabashed romantics— the ultimate fantasy of bedrooms for dreamers. Quite literally titled, the new collection Cloud Hunter by Megan Alason Pearl is the light, white, soft, sensual, flirty, feminine bedding arrangement we’ve all searched high and low for, until now finding only in our dreams. The settings below are more than an idealized lookbook; instead, they rather accurately depict how one might spend their day in a Cloud Hunter bedroom: lounging in fancy, frilly underwear, sipping mint tea, scribbling in a diary, and ardently dreaming of their lover.

Cloud Hunter is a home collection company specializing in dreamy winsome bedding. Collections consist of duvets & shams accessorized with decorative pillows, euro pillows & throws.

For pricing and press and inquiries please contact: cloudhunter@shopcloudhunter.com

SHOP CLOUD HUNTER

I am so proud of my friend Megan! Admittedly, equal parts proud and anxious to get my hands on some of her beautiful collection!

Las Vegas for Lili's Birthday!

Mon, 30 Jan 2012 20:39:57 -0500

new friend / old school hip hop

Tue, 24 Jan 2012 23:46:22 -0500

Bonded with a new friend over our mutual love of dancing and old school hip hop! She’s not crazy about internet photos, hence the disguise, but Jessica and I, we are certainly crazy about her!

Daniel Arsham at OH WOW

Mon, 23 Jan 2012 17:22:38 -0500

Stay tuned.

Also: CUTE POST ABOUT THE SHOW BY TEENA ON THE OPENING CEREMONY BLOG

Howl of the Alpha

Mon, 23 Jan 2012 12:31:27 -0500

My new article published in Flaunt:

Click here to read the text!

Paris continued: Dîner à deux <3

Fri, 06 Jan 2012 23:00:00 -0500

Often the most intimate glimpse into a foreign culture can be achieved through integration of neighborhood gems, a task which is particularly easy when all of the gems are located in your neighborhood! Residing in the trendy Le Marais, we frequented nearby boulangeries by day and in the evenings, set aside hours for extended, indulgent, often by candlelight, unabashedly romantic dinners to be savored and remembered long after the course of the meal.

It was hard to pick my favorites, but I present the following four restaurants with the very highest regards: (note- photos are limited with respect for both the settings and appreciation of the moment)

Robert et Louise: 64 Rue Vieille du Temple 75003 (pictured above)

On one of the coldest nights, we followed the scent of a wood-burning stove into an intimate hotspot that had clearly been whispered among the young and elite. We opted for seats at the bar and at once found ourselves elbow to elbow with the locals and instantly enchanted by the buzzing atmosphere and aroma of roasting meat. Feeling charmed by the moment and noticing plates of escargot among diners, I was inclined to order my first taste of French snails. Matt couldn’t resist a steak cooked on the centric wood burning stove, or for that matter, requesting a second helping of the sautéed potatoes, which he declared were the best “dans le monde” and despite the risk of blowing our anonymity by appearing to seek US portions. The waiter agreed with a knowing smile, and later discouraged our choice of crème brûlée for an oversized chocolate brownie that, like our evening in this authentic and cozy little den, we savored every moment of.

Le Pantruche: 3, rue Victor Massé 75009

Le Pantruche is a small, classic French bistro nestled in a storefront near Pigalle and boasting a menu by a chef with high notoriety. Apparently, Chef Franck Baranger studied below Christian Constant, the latter praised as the master of the modern bistro. This seemed a fitting choice for one of our first afternoons in Paris, and we were delighted to squeeze in among an intimate crowd for a long, leisurely prefix lunch, ordered off a large chalkboard brought to the table by a very patient waiter as I dusted off my recently dormant French language skills. The highlight of our meal was my butternut, pumpkin, and truffle oil soup, so rich that despite a bit of help from across the table, I may have taken a whole half hour to savor every bite.

La Fidelite: 12 Rue Fidélité 75010 Paris, France

My first glimpse of La Fidelite was curbside with a craning, upward glance at a vertical sign missing six of its ten neon letters. I immediately made a prediction of a hole-in-the-wall setting relying heavily on charm, yet as I walked through the door I lost these ideals as quickly as my breath. In no way had the unassuming exterior prepared me for such elegant decor. My eyes traveled up the expansive white walls to high ceilings embellished with intricate moldings, and back down to a room full of red leather booths and bright white tablecloths. The brasserie was packed with large groups and heavy chatter and we immediately felt we had joined one giant, very trendy party. I was not surprised to learn La Fidelite was owned by André Saraiva and Lionel Bensemoun of Le Baron, or to discover the bar beneath for after dinner drinks. We skipped this part, satiated by an incredible 2007 Bordeaux, and instead, headed straight to Le Baron itself.

Le Mini Palais: Le Mini-Palais, Avenue Winston Churchill

Ironically, our most formal dining experience occurred on an evening of pouring rain, however this inconvenience could not possibly keep me from wearing the chiffon dress I had packed for the occasion. While closing a giant umbrella, I stepped my soaking suede pumps across the threshold and onto a pristine marble floor. Suddenly I could not differentiate whether I had entered a museum, or a palace, as the high ceilings and walls were decorated with large scale, formal artwork- busts and urns and majestic works of many sorts. The allure continued as we were escorted to our seats and served an immediate glass of champagne and complimentary gougères (cheese puffs!) The next course was Pil-Pil squid followed by almond crusted Merlan, and I was enthralled every moment of our meal up to the last point where we shared one giant “crazy pot” dessert: vanilla ice cream, meringue, caramel, chocolate sauce, and a biscuit, all of which was set aside our more modest choice of strawberries, yogurt sorbet, and basil, because either alone would surely not have been enough. ;)

Just a start….

Thu, 05 Jan 2012 12:40:00 -0500

Just a start….

A year in pictures:

Fri, 30 Dec 2011 00:02:23 -0500

In anticipation of the new year, I have decided to stagger my Paris posts and instead take the evening to reflect on some of my favorite moments of 2011. Click below to see more— this was so much fun!!

Paris for Christmas

Sat, 24 Dec 2011 16:34:00 -0500

Tomorrow is only Christmas eve and yet today, on the 23rd of December, I can prematurely name this my favorite Christmas of all time. I am in North Carolina, and have just returned from a week in Paris (the world’s greatest and most romantic Christmas gift, from Matt) and two days spent with his family in NYC. The pictures below are just a small sampling of what I will post, as I plan to write thorough descriptions of all the neighborhoods, restaurants, clubs, and museums we visited. In an effort to remain in the moment of this perfect little holiday, however, I will have to pick up this task sometime next week. Until then, Merry Christmas!!!

(L) The foyer in our apartment in Le Marais. We even had a Christmas tree!! I love the beautiful antique furniture and the herringbone hardwood floors.

(R) Wall to wall books. It was a dream. Look at that dream.

Staying in to cook dinner, drink wine, and read books on a rainy night.

Sipping ‘la piscine’ at Le Pompon.

(L) Drinking vin chaud to keep warm while shopping at the Champs-Élysées Christmas market.

(R) Merci Boutique. I think I went here four times.

(L) Le baron.

(R) Superdunny and Charly Party dj set at Le Pompon!

And finally: walking around the streets of le marais on our last day in Paris.

Taken while dancing on the set of B.C.’s new video for...

Mon, 05 Dec 2011 00:21:00 -0500

Taken while dancing on the set of B.C.’s new video for the song Melody. LOVED working on this and cannot wait to share the video when it is complete!!

A North Carolina Thanksgiving

Tue, 29 Nov 2011 18:46:59 -0500

Swinging at dusk by the marsh, waiting for the oysters to steam.

Baking an apple pie, not without Bloody Marys.

Thanksgiving dinner, not without fresh caught shrimp.

The perfect hour.

The best part of the trip. <3

My childhood neighborhood.

IMMABILLU video coming soon!

Sun, 20 Nov 2011 13:44:25 -0500

I borrowed a few of these lovely stills from director Jessica Collins who I recently collaborated with on a music video for ImmaBillU.

I have found myself looking for excuses to stop by her place to catch a quick glimpse of the editing progress. Jessica is the next big thing, you heard it here first! And so is ImmaBillU!

Photos from the Aziz Habibi / IMMABILLU launch in San Francisco:

Yes, these shirts are for sale: AzizHabibi.com

Zou of B.C. Kingdom

Margaux et moi.

Audio

Sun, 20 Nov 2011 02:09:00 -0500

A perfectly old fashioned evening.

Sun, 20 Nov 2011 01:07:00 -0500

Shhh.... sneaking on some stills

Sat, 05 Nov 2011 23:33:00 -0400

These are from a recent music video, directed by Jessica Collins and styled by me!

Halloween

Sat, 05 Nov 2011 23:21:20 -0400

Elizabeth Taylor as Cleopatra: a welcomed divergence from the course of recent years….

Paris Hilton:

Followed by Paris Hilton as a penguin:

Good move, right?

The Culinary Institute of America in Napa Valley

Mon, 19 Sep 2011 02:17:00 -0400

So it has been a little while since I have presented the internet with my ramblings, and instead of updating with a long overdue recap, if not the thorough attention this blog clearly deserves, instead I’m opting for a short teaser. [using the word teaser incorrectly here, of course- unless in fact you are truly compelled by this recipe for tiramisu, in which case, enjoy!] Matt and I recently took a cooking class at the Culinary Institute of America in Napa as part of a cleantech conference we attended recently. The rum and coffee in the recipe combined with the champagne served during the class made for an interesting afternoon. …

TIRAMISU Yield: 4 Servings

Lady Finger Sponge:

13 eggs, separated

1 1/4 cup granulated sugar

12 ounces flour (about 2 1/2 cups)

3 Tablespoons cornstarch

1/2 tsp kosher salt

1. Preheat oven to 400 degrees. 2. Separate your egg yolks and egg whites. Place the yolks in a standing mixer fitted with a whisk attachment. Add 1/2 cup of sugar to the yolks, and mix on medium-high until the yolks become a pale yellow (about 3-5 minutes). Set aside. 3. Place your egg whites and the remaining 1 1/4 cup of sugar in a clean mixing bowl fitted with a whisk attachment. Whip the egg whites to soft peaks or until glossy and thick (about 24 minutes). 4. Gently fold 1/3 of the whites into the yolk mixture to lighten it up. Add the rest of the whites to the yolk mixture, and gently fold together. As you are folding, sift the flour, cornstarch, and salt in small additions. 5. Pipe or spread the batter into desired shapes. Bake until golden brown, about 9-12 minutes.

Soaking Syrup:

2 cups espresso or very strong coffee

1/2 cup sugar 1/2 cup spiced rum or kahlua

1. Simmer all ingredients in a saucepan until sugar is dissolved. Remove from heat and allow to cool before using. Cream Filling 1 quart heavy cream 2 8oz container mascarpone cheese 1 cup sugar 2 tablespoons vanilla extract 1. Whip the mascarpone cheese with the sugar and vanilla to soften the mascarpone. 2. Gradually add the heavy cream, while whipping the mixture to a medium peak.

My new nails!

Sat, 27 Aug 2011 01:27:56 -0400

My third grade class exercised a broad curriculum with the intention of bestowing an education that was not just academically proficient, but colorful in variety of lessons learned. Often, our Ms. Ellen would gather her students to venture into a modest but carefully kept garden, where each student was given a task such as transferring a single periwinkle from its pot to the earth. Precocious and at times, overzealous, I took pride in my quest for the role of teacher’s pet. The days in the garden, to my dismay, were a different story. The days in the garden in the eyes of Ms. Ellen, I could do no right.

Every Friday, my mother brought me along to her manicure appointment at a beauty shop that was as colorful in appearance as it was in both staff and clientele. Each wall was painted a different pastel hue and a corresponding employee dressed as if appointed by a decorator to complement the decor. The receptionist was a former model with a severe, platinum bob and an affinity for a certain pair of skin tight denim with leather stirrups that I repeatedly placed on my eight-year-old’s Christmas list but to my disappointment, to no avail. After hearing rumors that our hairdresser moonlit a local nightclub solely dressed in a sequined thong, I suggested with a casual curiosity our attendance in lieu of Blockbuster on Friday nights but like many other ambitious pursuits, I was denied. Nonetheless, Salon Beyond Basics was a place I felt a strong sense of kinship and camaraderie and regarded my education every bit as important as my days with Ms. Ellen. Deep down, I knew my mom did too, which was why once a month I was allowed a manicure from one of two women seated side by side in the very back of the salon.

In my eyes, Jenny and Lisa were the tip of the hierarchy; reigning queens who humbly accepted frosted glass tables and Herman Miller chairs as their modest thrones. Once a month, I sat with with my hands submerged in paraffin wax and listened to Jenny dispel wisdom, gossip, and lessons arguably unsuitable for a child my age and in that regard, all the more ardently solicited. Prior to my appointments, I spent the entire month in anxious anticipation but more importantly with my mind on the difficult task of choosing a request for Jenny that was even more challenging, far more elaborate, and inevitably more satisfying than the months before. Jenny was extremely talented with nail art, and using a paintbrush as fine as a single strand of hair, would succumb to my longings for intricate art corresponding to whims of the current season. In the winter, tiny snowmen and reindeer with red rhinestone noses assured my fingertips would never reach my gloves, and in the spring, necking swans and boxes of chocolates were an early indication of the huge romantic I am to this day. In August, I suggested chalkboards with scribbled words and apples for the teacher and on the first day of school, bore a confidence unaffected by fears of having the proper sneakers or the coolest snacks.

Our days in the garden, I would employ my favorite tactic and bat my eyes to Ms. Ellen, sticking out my lower lip and explaining with pronounced regret that on account of my recent manicure I was unable to partake in any sort of digging in the dirt. Her response was harrowing and as a third grader in complete worship of her teacher, distressing close to the point of abandon. But just not quite.

On the first day of fourth grade and during the initial calling of role, my new teacher Mrs. Robyn noticed my fingernails and asked to see me after class. She raised her reading glasses from their place on her chest and upon inspection, let out an excitedly pronounced gasp. Fourth graders are void of garden duties but at mention of basketball in PE class, I would escape to Mrs. Robyn’s empty classroom where we took turns painting each other’s nails and she taught me lessons I could never dare to forget.

I found a new novelty manicurist in Los Angeles. Her name is Jaeme of Kleur Nails and though she travels per appointment and special events, was positioned today at Freak City where I was lucky enough to make her acquaintance and walk out with a fantastic new set of nails. The picture above is of my nails, but for more information and a look at their amazing work, check out the company’s website at kleur.me.

The Quintessential Las Vegas Experience

Sun, 07 Aug 2011 01:40:00 -0400

At times I find my life to be a delicate and careful dance between avoiding and embracing.

The power of a cliche rests entirely in one’s ability to dictate its presence. As an artist, a writer, a twenty-something woman, the odds are invariably stacked in favor of moments carved away by so many before that what is left feels void of any ownership. I often find myself laughing at the existential questions I ask the world as I fall asleep, and equally confident in my ability to keep them to myself when I’m both chatting and sipping a soy cappuccino among many ears in a coffee shop. It never feels good to act or speak in a manner so soundly resolved to have developed its own cliche.

Or perhaps it does. Sometimes even more powerful than embarking upon the independent, uncharted route, is to alternatively embrace that which is obvious, expected, and for these reasons, eschewed. There are moments when it feels best to surrender these stipulations toward always rising from the masses, as sometimes, what feels best of all is to give in and take one giant gulp of the kool-aide. There is a delicate dance between avoiding and embracing that which is predictable and overused, and this past weekend in Vegas makes a strong case for the latter.

Matt and I surrendered ourselves to the typical Las Vegas vacation. Atypical, I should add, was the thoughtful and romantic way he planned the trip as a last minute surprise, the mystery beginning with a mischievous smile and his instructions to “pack a swimsuit, a fancy dress, and hop in the shower” and the suspense that followed as he managed to keep our destination a secret until the final moment before boarding the plane.

We began our shotgun trip to Las Vegas with in flight bloody marys, which on account of our last minute seats being many rows apart, mine arrived a la “this was sent complements of the gentleman in 18C”. I drank it with a smile that did little justice for the amount of excitement and giddiness I felt as we flew over the canyons and approached the unmistakeable city of lights.

Upon our arrival to Las Vegas, we walked in sync with our fellow heard of vacationers, all toting a modest size weekend bag and with faces eager to succumb to the lure. Checking in to the Aria, it was entertaining to notice those checking out: sunburned with puffy eyes, wrinkled clothes, and void of any attempts to disguise the fact that the vast majority were still entirely drunk.

I threw on a sequin dress, which I later discovered was the perfect choice for this environment judging by the abundance in which they sparkled throughout our stay. We spent hours playing roulette in the casino, sipping drinks we ordered mostly for novelty (white russians and dirty martinis) but drank them nonetheless. We ate dinner at the Jean Georges steakhouse in the hotel, followed by an evening at a three story club equipped with half-dressed dancers and acrobats where coincidentally, a gentleman was standing above us on the top level and tossing copious handfuls of dollar bills into the air which fell directly at my feet. I picked them up and without any hesitation, we returned to the casino.

The next day began with a trip to the spa followed by poolside piña coladas and an afternoon at the firing range. We paid the spa one final visit before our departure, but rest assured: in true accordance with our quintessential Las Vegas experience, no amount of hot stones or himalayan sea salt could have denied our appearance the checklist of tell tale Vegas signs we so easily, and happily, fulfilled.

Now for some rest.

4th of July

Thu, 07 Jul 2011 01:00:16 -0400

It seems fair that while all of my current artistic and literary ventures have yet to be disclosed, I should share instead a glimpse into the leisure that I have absolutely no choice but to partake in, if only for the sake of balance and sanity!