You Should Read The Infatuations

It's been quite awhile since I've posted. I moved within Brooklyn, so the stressors associated with packing my whole life into reusable grocery bags and FreshDirect boxes prompted me to take a little break. I'm back now and living in Crown Heights with my boyfriend and a tiny kitchen mouse. Ahh, New York. 

Hat: Target // Belt: Primark // Jumpsuit: Thrifted from Buffalo Exchange

Today is my day off, and I've put on this amazing jumpsuit I bought two years ago for a Christmas party. I love it because it requires no bra, has huge pockets, and despite the color, it's really breezy. It's the perfect laying around outfit because that's what I'll be doing today as I wait for the exterminator to come and take care of aforementioned mouse + whatever pests are lurking behind my stove.

Jewelry: Catbird knuckle rings, bracelet thrifted

I'm OK with staying in for most of the day because I'm excited to make a dent in Javier Marias' newest book, The Infatuations. He's a Spanish writer with an enviable pedigree and his writing will grip you. This is the kind of book that will force auditory reactions from you. I kept "Ohhing" and "Ahhing" at his beautiful prose on the subway yesterday and more than one person asked me if they should pick it up. Also, if you listen to NPR, then you know John Powers fangirled over this book in his latest review. His adoration was warranted. The book is written so well that you'll want to force your friends to read it. I'll leave you with an excerpt.

They seemed to fulfill that role for each other; and although they were clearly married, I never caught one of them putting on an artificial or stupidly soppy expression, like some couples who have lived together for years and make a point of showing how much in love they still are, as if that somehow increased their value or embellished them. No, it was more as if they were determined to get on together and make a good impression on each other with a view to possible courtship; or as if they had been so drawn to each other before they were married or lived together that, in any circumstance, they would have spontaneously chosen each other -- not out of conjugal duty or convenience or habit or even loyalty -- as companion or partner, friend, conversationalist, or accomplice, in the knowledge that, whatever happened, whatever transpired, whatever there was to tell or to hear, it would always be less interesting or amusing with someone else. Without her in his case, without him in her case. There was a camaraderie between them and, above all, a certainty. 

Cue the "Oh, damn!" Now go pick it up and let me know what you're reading, too!