AAAH, Chicago. Its windy days, its chilly nights (even in October) — it’s the perfect combination for the impetus for an AIA (Aubrey-Impetuous-Action). Such actions in the past have included a move to Atlanta, and without some resistance and a few lectures from well-intended loved ones, this one may just follow suit.
Chicago is a city of similarities and uniqueness…it resembles NYC in its offerings but is smaller, cleaner, and (at least to me), has more easily accessible culture (and less-scary subways.) Thus far, it has spoken to me, and being the generous gal that I am, thought I’d relay you some of the messages received and lessons learned…
1. A person can actually gain weight by smelling food alone. Walking by the various olfactory wonders that are the steakhouses on State Street, I swear my jeans are shrinking or my thighs are expanding. Or both. Either way, it’s disturbing.
2. Walking shoes are a necessity. After a few blocks in posh mid-calf boots, shoes sans heels are a must-have and any and all purchases of said shoes are justified.
3. There is an inordinate amount of good looking — no, change that — frighteningly, shockingly, abnormally amazing looking, men in this city. Perhaps the hottie bus is a one-way trip from any other US city to Chitown, and if so, save me a seat next to the tall, dark, and perfect looking one. (Meaning, any seat.)
4. F+P+P=F (Frump + Plump + Poor = Funk). Meaning, after gorging on sushi and trying on lovely (but unaffordable) cocktail dresses and wearing a un-couture outfit that increases warmth but decreases fashionability, funks may ensue. On a similar token, overpriced jeans, when rolled up and coupled with flat running-esque urban shoes, somehow lose any aura of designer-ness that is heightened when swapped for Charles David pointy-toed heels. Versatile jeans, nes pas?
5. Monikers are regional. I have hereby added the following names to my list of names I could never, uh, “mention,” in intimate situations: Craig, Keith, Dwayne, Dwight, Henry, Harry. Oh, and lets add Lloyd for good nature.
A list girl by heart, here’s some additional information gleaned from The Windy City:
Mr. Kite’s Chocolates on State St.
1451 N. State Street, a house that I would lovingly refurbish and occupy, if only the chance
North Shore Drive and its running trail
Rice Balls at this little Italian place underneath the John Hancock building. Amazing.
Pizza, Panini, and Pasta
Shopping. Any and all.
See #3 above.
Housing prices. $1.5 mil for 2500 sq. feet. Hmm, sounds like a super deal to me!
I own a house. In Atlanta. In warm weather. And its only 4 months old.
See #5 above.
I think it’s a tie — well-intended lectures allowed and requested…