Blowing My Skirt Up

I’ve always been obsessed with Chicago. Growing up in what’s best been described as a “sleepy little town” in mid-Michigan, I was always the kid wanting to take a trip to the city, where I’d inevitably urge my mom to go for walks in the downtown and northern neighborhoods so I could go all peeping tom on unsuspecting Chicago residents and see into their living rooms and kitchens. It wasn’t out of perversion – we think – it was out of a insatiable desire to be living the life those people already had.

Over the course of my life, my love affair with Chicago has carried on, mostly from afar. I have friends that live in the city and I’ve spent plenty of time there as a visitor. I love how I can almost feel the streets pulsing under my feet with energy and excitement. I love how even on the rainist, snowiest day, I can still find positives that far outweigh the negatives. I love that it has its own brand of crazy served up in the form of street performers, hot dog slingers and most of the partygoers in the Viagra Triangle.


Hell, I even get Chicago Magazine. I read about the newest restaurants, search the real estate listings and read the latest and greatest on the city that stole my heart so many years ago. If you haven’t been yourself, you won’t understand my lunacy for this place. I urge you to go. Soon. Pop up to Lincoln Park and enjoy some sangria and tapas at Café Ba Ba Reeba. Roll on Downtown for a wine flight at Bin 36. Get some stellar sushi at Butterfly or Thalia Spice. And if you know what's good for you, get thee to Frontera Grill! (side note: I've had a mad crush on Chef Rick Bayless since way back in the day. The man can cook. He's a Top Chef Master!)

Once you’re full, check out some of the best museums and attractions our part of the world has to offer. And go shopping, for God’s sake. And by that I don’t mean at the Gap — venture out, little ones. Hit the boutiques and shops you can’t find at your local mall. Ask around. I’m sure someone has an opinion they’re willing to share. Or, forget about all of "the stuff to do" and take a run, stroll, strut or limbo along Lakeshore Drive. It's great for people watching or for forgetting anyone but you exists on Earth. It's one of my favorite things to do when I'm there.

For me, I missed my first chance at making a move to Chicago when I was 21. I went and got married to a local boy instead. After 10 years, that didn’t work out so hot, so for the past two years, I’ve been flirting with the idea again. Of course, I have a great job, a great family and great friends here. Of course, the prospect of the unknown is scary. Of course, I’m a giant pussy.

But the 16-year-old me is constantly sitting on my shoulder, likely in a Varnet France t-shirt and some K-Swisses, whispering ever-so-quietly into my ear, “Get it, girl.” Whether I choose to listen to her or not remains to be seen. In the meantime, I try to appease her as much as possible by making the three and a half hour drive to the Windy City every so often. And I still peep in windows from time to time. And I imagine that life. And I smile.

New Music Sunday!

I find myself obsessing over music about 236 hours a day. Or something close to that. I listen to my iPod at work all day (or at least when I need to block out the madness), can hardly ever be found not pumping music so loud through my car speakers that I scare small children and grandmas, and have music playing at home more than I have the TV on. And I love TV.

With this slight OCDish obsession in mind, I'm starting a new Brunette tradition by talking about the music that makes me happiest every Sunday. As in, I'm going to post on Sunday, not talk about "Sunday music". You know what I mean. I hope. I think I just confused myself.

This week's edition is all about my boy, Amos Lee.

I first discovered Amos about five years ago messing around on iTunes one night. I was messing around, not Amos. What is wrong with me today? God. Anyway! About 3.2 seconds into the sample I played of "Better Days" I was hooked for life. Butter. His voice is like butter. Best way I can describe it. His songs are quiet anthems to life's woes and triumphs - those that pain us and those that lift us up. And I love them all.

For me, Amos shines most on "Southern Girl" (I like to pretend this could be about me, because I am, in fact, from the southern part of lower Michigan). Shut up. 

It's just...what's the word?...FREAKING SPECTACULAR. That doesn't even do it justice. But anyway, check it out for yourself:

I love virtually everything Amos does, and his newest album, released Jan. 25, 2011, called "Mission Bell" is no exception. The first track "El Camino" just floors you with how powerful a very quiet song can be. And it goes on from there. From "Violin" - which I could not love more, to the ironically peppy "Cup of Sorrow", this album is a gem. Of course, Amos could strum a lovely melody while repeatedly saying "Suck a fat one, bitches" and I'd be all "That's so BEAUTIFUL!" Luckily, he hasn't taken that path as of yet.

Enjoy a non-"bitches" song from Mission Bell:

For those of you suckers who weren't able to get tickets to one of his shows that sold out almost immediately (what is WRONG with you!?) I highly encourage you to pick up "Mission Bell" asap. While you're at it, grab "Supply and Demand" and his self-titled album as well. You can thank me later.

Get Your Jollies Here

Despite my die-hard fanaticism for all things Spartan and my unending love for Michigan State, I am secretly in love with the city of Ann Arbor. There’s something about the downtown area that just gets me every single time I visit. Some of my most cherished memories over the past few years have been against the backdrop of Main Street — long walks that facilitate long talks, lingering meals in an open-air back patio and concerts at The Ark that rank as the finest I’ve ever seen.

One of the real gems, in my view, is The Jolly Pumpkin, located at 311 S. Main Street in downtown A2. A brewpub that boasts a phenomenal menu of wood-fired pizzas and truffled french fries (yes, you heard me), among other things, the Pumpkin is a great place to just belly up to the bar and try out some of their impressive beer. Mmm, beer.

I only began liking beer a few years ago – I was a late bloomer, what I can I say? Needless to say, I’ve made up for lost time. They’ve got a great list of house-brewed beer to choose from, whether you like it light or dark or somewhere in between. What’s more, their staff is super friendly and engaging. You feel like you’re a regular the first time you walk through the door. That speaks volumes about their customer philosophy and overall vibe. And I like it. Your bartender might mistakenly call you by the wrong name, but frankly, you’re so happy to be in such a fun place, in such a fun city that you just go with it and respond, “Yeah, that’s me. I’m Lynn.”

Get thee to the Jolly Pumpkin. Oh, and they have outposts in Traverse City and Dexter too…so go. Now. Stop reading this and go. Really.

Oh, and tell them Lynn says hi.

...Just Let the Love Love Love Begin

I'm not sure I can do this justice.

Those who know me well, know that I am a huge Ingrid Michaelson fan. I stumbled across her on iTunes one night about four years ago as I was searching for new music. I'd been listening to my boy, Amos Lee, which led me to Ray LaMontagne, which led me to somebody else and then somewhere down the line, to Ingrid.

The first song I ever cued up was “Far Away” from her “Girls and Boys” album. One listen and I was hooked for good. She's a musician in the best sense of the word. She's pretty damn rad in my book. It's the rare occasion that I love (or even like) every song on someone's album. With Ingrid Michaelson, I do. It's sort of mind-boggling that every song is a gem. You know those albums you get because you love the single and then you can tell that they've thrown in a couple real stinkers to fill the space? Not so with any of Ingrid's albums, in my opinion (and since you're here reading this, I assume you're interested in my opinion, yes?)

To be sure, I'm an indy music fan. I gravitate more toward singer-songwriters than any other genre of music. Don't get me wrong, I love me some Gaga. I get low for Ludacris (though these days, I feel like I develop acute sciatica each time I do). I'm a huge Michael Jackson fan.

But at the end of the day, give me Joshua Radin, Greg Laswell, Priscilla Ahn and the aforementioned Amos Lee. That's where I feel at home. Ingrid is a big part of that. I relate to her songs — in fact, sometimes I swear she's reading my mind. And I know that's common to a lot of people, but GIVE ME MY MOMENT, DAMMIT. Anyway...

There've been a lot of developments in my life over the past couple years. Steady like a rock, Ingrid's music has been a huge comfort to me. If for no other reason than I just really dig it. And, by the way, she's super awesome in concert. You get the distinct feeling she's enjoying her evening with you as much as you are with her. And holy hell, she's funny. I went away from the Ark in Ann Arbor with a smile on my face and a little bit more joy in my heart. And for me, that's exactly what I need these days.

You might ask, “what are your favorite songs?” PAY ATTENTION! I JUST TOLD YOU I LOVE THEM ALL!

What?

Ok, fine. If I have to make a Sophie's choice here, this would be my top 10. I'm not happy to have to do this, by the way. I blame you.

1 — Far Away

2 — You and I

3 — Are We There Yet

4 — Winter Song (with Sara Bareilles)

5 — Locked Up

6 — Glass

7 — Soldier

8 — Around You

9 — Can't Help Falling in Love (cover)

10 — The Chain

Ok, so there you have it. Go download them right now. Seriously. Go.

Aging Gracefully, be Damned

Look, I need to be clear up front that I'm not now, nor will I ever be one of these women who extol the virtues of “aging gracefully”. I plan to fight the aging process altogether, and short of a hyperbaric chamber, I plan to pull out all the tricks I've got up my sleeve.

For one, I will probably always color my hair. I've not yet started to go gray (thank Christ), but even when I do, only my stylist and I will likely know, since I'm going to keep those bitches at bay.

Second, I do what I can to make sure my skin - both on my body and my face - doesn't appear to have been put away wet a few hundred times too many. I've begun to dabble in retinol creams and always wear SPF in my makeup and moisturizers. But before I even get to all that, I make sure I'm doing right by my face by prepping my skin each morning with a “mini peel” in the form of Philosophy's Microdelivery Exfoliating Wash.

As I do with Purity Made Simple, I buy the Wash in a 32 oz. pump which I use in my shower each morning. By massaging it into my face and neck for 30 to 60 seconds (depending on just how late I am for work), I slough away all the dead skin that magically accumulates while I sleep. It gives me a rosy glow and gives my complexion a level of smoothness not unlike a baby's bum. And who doesn't want ass-face? ...You know what I mean.

Used in conjunction with Purity, which I use at night (and you should know that since you already read that post, right?), the Wash is a little 'ol facelift in a bottle. And that? That's a little bit rad, if you ask this 34 year-old.

As with many of Philosophy's products, you can get good deals on the Wash (about $55 for a supply will last you at least six months) on their own website or, as I do, on QVC's website. While you're there, pick up some nice slacks and a black hills gold charm bracelet.

So, to recap: Wrinkles = bad. Aging gracefully = for the birds. Philosophy's Microdelivery Exfoliating Wash = what you need to get asap because I say so.

The end.

Pure As the Driven Snow…Much Like Me

Do you even get the sneaking suspicion that the beauty industry is one big conglomerate whose sole mission is to confuse the ever-loving shit out of us? Or is that just me and the voices I hear?

In the past, I’d stand in front of the 10 billion face washes at Target and quickly become overwhelmed by the sheer number of options. “Acne Be Damned!”, “Shrink Your Pores!”, “Porcelain Skin is Yours!”…exciting claims, no doubt. A crock of shit in most cases, you betcha.

Over the years, I’ve managed to figure out that I’m allergic to salicylic acid — full-face hives are awfully attractive and fun. I’ve also determined that most products that say they remove eye makeup with ease actually mean, “we’re going to burn your retinas out of your skull, but that damn mascara will come off.”

Frustrated and desperate, I saw that Philosophy was hosting a show on QVC when I was scrolling through the cable guide one night. Never having used their products before, I checked it out. Side note: do not be a QVC-hater, you can get good deals on stuff. And no, that doesn’t make me 65-years-old or a shut-in. Moving on…

They were highlighting their “foundational” face wash, Purity Made Simple. The demo girls were washing their faces with this stuff, and literally keeping their eyes open while doing so. And their eye makeup was melting off. All smiles and whatnot, I was sure they’d been lobotomized so that their faces wouldn’t register the pain they were feeling from their eyes burning from the inside out. Nonetheless, I was intrigued enough to call them up and buy a bottle.

That was probably four years ago. And I haven’t used anything else as an everyday face wash since. My skin, always acne-prone in the past, has been virtually clear in all that time, save for the occasional PMS-induced crater-zit that wants world domination via my face. At the same time, without scrubbing at all, my eye makeup comes off easily every night. In fact, Purity is what inspired me to actually wash my face at night.

Yes, I was one of those girls that went to bed in full face makeup every night for most of my life. My college roommate, Jody, always washed her faced, even if she was so drunk she couldn’t stand upright. Every night. And what did I do? I pulled on sweatpants and crawled into bed. Ambitious stuff, clearly. But now, I always hit the pillow with freshly washed skin. My pillows thank me for no longer streaking them with foundation and eyeliner. We get along much better these days.

I actually buy Purity in a 32 oz. pump which lasts me for about six or seven months. At about $45, it’s a screamin’ deal. You can get Philosophy products at Sephora, Nordstroms and other retailers, but lovies, I urge you to check out QVC’s website and order there. You’ll get a bigger size, better price and overall rockin’ value. And you won’t be sorry. I’ve turned several friends onto Purity and they all love it. I use another of Philosophy’s face products in conjunction with Purity but you’ll have to wait until next time to hear about that. Stop salivating and get yourself some Purity today. We both know it’s the only way you’ll have any purity in your life, dirty bird.

Hipstamatic for iPhone App

Imagine you're a girl who grew up in the 70's and 80's, often captured in a Polaroid or on early Kodak film with all it's graininess and sepia-toned splendor.

Now imagine that girl at 34, with an unnatural love for her iPhone and her favorite application, Hipstamatic. That'd be me, kids. I can't get enough! Check out a few of my images here, and then try to control your envy until you read the rest of this post. Okay?

Why do I love this app? I'll tell you why! With a simple swipe of my finger, I'm able to mimic all the crappy photos I remember from childhood. Yeah, you heard me. While I'm a big fan of a beautiful photo taken with the most cutting-edge digital camera, there's something quaint and cool about the Hipstamatic that takes me back - without the unfortunate hair or clothing choices.

The app is pretty cheap - $2 or so, with optional "lenses" and "flashes" and "whatnot" for about a buck each. What you get in return is a rich history lesson encapsulated by this clever little device. Don't expect stunning quality - that's not the point. Expect really cool finishes on your pictures that showcase the rough edges of life a little bit better.

If you don't have an iPhone or iTouch, well, sorry about your bad luck. Maybe you should go see your nearest Apple expert as soon as possible. Just a thought.











Pros:

• It's suhhhweeeeeeeeet.

• You'll have neato pictures to share incessantly with your friends on Facebook. They'll maybe make fun of you. Don't you listen to them, you hear me??!

• Easy to use platform makes even the most tech-averse person a photog pro in minutes.

• It's relatively cheap, considering a real old-school camera would cost a mint now that it's considered "vintage". The next time I hear that word, I'm likely to poke myself in the eye.

Cons:

• Because the iPhone doesn't have a real flash, you can't get very good shots in dark places - this app is best for settings that are outdoors or in good light.

• Because all your non-Apple friends will be jealous, the pressure might be more than you can take.