The City Sage

Buying Wall Art: The Best Typography Prints

What did you want to be when you were a kid? When The Grownups asked me that question I always replied with a firm, clear response: 'I'm going to be an author'. Today I make my living in a field that employs many forms of communication, but the verbal arena is where I'm most comfortable—and it's also where I shine most brightly. So it comes as no surprise that have a soft spot for art that incorporates language. After all, words are where I'm a Viking.

I've been busily bookmarking prints that make great use of typography as I start to think about how I'd like to decorate the walls of my Los Angeles apartment. Whether you incorporate one or two of these wordy works into a gallery wall or use a single piece for impact, they make a brilliant alternative to a framed poster or painting that is simply visual in nature. 

A few favorites are included here, but this round-up just scratches the tip of the iceberg! I'm partial to the prints that make me smile. We all have that friend who goes ALL CAPS on us when texting, or the buddy who first sent us the link to Sweet Georgia Brown's 'Ain't Nobody Got Time For That' Youtube Video. Why not buy a second poster while you're at it and thank these pals for the laughter they've brought to your life? After all, words are important but actions count for a whole lot more!

Shopping Guide: Love Love Me Do Print, If Not Now Then When Print, I Like You & I Love You Print, Ain't Nobody Got Time For That Print, Hegel Passion Quote Print, Don't Make Me Go All Caps On You Print. Images: 1. 2. 3. 4. 5.

How to Wear Pattern: Striped Shorts

Remember last week when I busted out of my fashion rut with floral camo jeans? I've been feeling so pleased with myself for exploring beyond my solid black comfort zone that I decided to forge the pattern train full steam ahead. Today's experiment is the striped short. Because stripes are generally easy, but shorts are notoriously hard. Can a marriage of the two yield a positive result?

After a quick trip to Target (they gave me this newfound sartorial courage when they asked me to try out summer's top trends), I returned home with a pair of blue and white chambray shorts in a railroad stripe that straddles the line between tailored and relaxed. The key to shorts lies in finding the right fit; I always size up to avoid bunching. I love these in particular for their just-right inseam length and leg openings that neither gape nor hug but rather skim. 

As for the stripes themselves, they're the ideal scale and proportion for making your backside look cute and pert. In other words, they're neither too wide (enlarging!) or too narrow (lots 'o' stripes = lots 'o' butt!). A heathered boat neck sweatshirt, red Tieks, and a navy leather tote kept the look crisp and simple, but these shorts are versatile enough that you could pair them with anything. I took a survey with Harley the Dog and she clearly agrees!

Thank you to Danielle of The Why We Love Photography for shooting these photos! And thanks to Rachel Delahoussaye for doing my makeup. Disclosure: As a Target Inner Circle member, some items were provided by Target. I am not an employee of Target, and all opinions are my own. 

Father's Day Reflections: Big Sur with Dad

I get a lot from my dad. An uncanny ability to remember seemingly useless personal details. ("Forty years ago this weekend I hiked with some buddies through a spring squall carrying a bottle of tequila each.") An affinity for the historical non sequitur. ("What do you know about the life of William Randolph Hearst?") A frequently incapacitating internal clock that runs on Sage Time, which itself ticks along at least twenty minutes behind the rest of the world. (Many a missed flight, pushed deadline, and incensed spouse has arisen from the vagaries of Sage Time.) 

Yet our whimsical ways are not without their benefits, and they've resulted in a mutual appreciation for that very American phenomenon: The road trip. Dad has driven me as a toddler through the high Sierra switchbacks of Virginia City, as a college graduate across the endless eye-grit stretches of Kansas, as a now-grown woman up Highway 1 to Big Sur. We've traveled according to his rules of windows down and music up, the miles on the map like markers on our memories. Over the years, his rules of the road have become mine as well.

Our most recent California journey—to Big Sur—found us booked at a cliff-side lodge overlooking a panorama of the Pacific. The sun sank behind the horizon. My dad ferreted in his luggage for the gear that would enable another of his amateur pursuits. Item located, he raised it above his head and announced with boyish enthusiasm, "C'mon. I brought my high-powered bi-nocs. Let's go look at the stars." Cold, tired, and crabby, I did not want to leave the comfort of the cottage with its gas fire and crocheted lap blanket. Heaven knows I've told my father and his bi-nocs to piss off plenty of times before. Something about this night felt different. Important. I grabbed a sweater, heaved a sigh, and plunged into the darkness.  

As we crunched through gravel up a hill for the best vantage point, I tipped my head to the sky. A million bright pinpricks swam before me. The universe swirled in a dizzy arc. Vertigo pushed my eyes back to the ground. Dad stopped, let me catch up, put the binoculars in my hand. "Here," he said. "First find Jupiter. It's the brightest one." For several moments I saw nothing through the twin lenses. But my father coached me with a patience uncharacteristic to both of us. He taught me to steady the instrument on my celestial prey using Jupter and its moons, then we moved to Orion and his Great Nebula. "What is it?" I asked of the latter when I sighted the cloud of light radiating towards me. "It's where stars are born," said Dad. "Where stars are born," I repeated slowly. "Where stars are born."

Chilled through now, I lowered the bi-nocs and handed them back. Dad stayed to find more constellations and I made my way back to the cottage where the warm fire waited. I watched my feet on the path, the sky a blurry patchwork above me, thinking of my father who remained at the top of the hill to gaze where stars are born. 

Happy Father's Day to all the dads out there, especially mine. Thanks for teaching me the road. 

Palette Inspiration: Summer Berries

It happens every year. It starts as a trickle, increases to a steady flow, then bursts into a deluge until you don't know what to do, you have no choice, you simply must give in. There is no alternative but to devour all the berries. Yes, I'm talking about the joy that is berry season. Have your market stalls overflowed with plump specimens of the blue-, rasp-, straw-, and black- variety? Are your fingertips as stained with their juices as mine? Would you eat yourself sick off berries if given the chance?

Berries promise a pretty face as well as a sweet taste. They're the gems of the grocery store this time of year, their vibrant hues and glossy, radiant skins screaming, 'Take me home! Don't hide me in the fridge! Put me in a white ceramic collander and display me on the counter for all to see!' And really, who amongst us can ignore such persuasive advice from fruit so innocent and well-meaning. Not I.

So after the season has passed, I still long for the deep blues, vivid magentas, and rich reds of the berry bowl. The seem to hum and vibrate with life, and when combined they evoke the power of the sun and sky and earth all at once. Am I getting a too esoteric? Perhaps. But you guys. Strawberries were two pints for $5 and I just ate them in one sitting. I'm not thinking too clearly here...I simply love berries! 

P.S. Berries not your thing? Check out the citrus-inspired decor palette I did at the Lamps Plus Blog! Shopping Guide: 1. Kantha Floor Cushion 2. Marbled Ceramic Cup 3. Petrified Wood Bookends 4. Kilim Bath Towel Images: 1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6. 

Text in Style: The Best iPhone Cases

Are you glued to your phone like I am? I simply cannot be without it. I take it to the bathroom with me, sleep with it on the pillow next to me, and at any given moment I'm carrying at least five text conversations. Psychological implications aside—um, addictive behavior much?—it's hard to believe it's only been about four years that I've had my smartphone. I can barely remember life without it!

Given that for many of us, the phone is our permanent accessory, it darn well better look good! I'm often gobsmacked by the selection of cases out there, everything from the slim and functional to phone-sized fur coats and hoodies! My best girlfriend has two young children and her cover resembles military grade armor, a measure I understood only after I received a string of garbled conversation from a kindergartener and new that the phone had fallen into tiny, mischievous hands...

Of course, I don't need kids to help me break my phone; I'm clumsy enough! My case taste falls into the category of 'stylish yet protective'. No fur coats here, though Grumpy Cat or leopard print does have appeal. A checkered or striped iPhone case always wins, especially in a subdued shades of gold, white, and black. Textures like cork or faux lizard feel satisfying in the hand. A cheeky quote brings a smile each time you see it, which, considering how often we use our phones, is a zillion times a day!

Tell me: What case do you have on your phone? Do you use just one or do you have a case wardrobe that you rotate? Images: 1. 2. unknown. 3. 4. 5. 6. 7.