Along came Mad Men

I have never been a television fanatic. My TV is slightly bigger than my laptop's screen, I don't have cable, and until very recently I was one of the few persons on planet earth who had never watched Mad Men before. Until I got a hysterectomy. For those of you not familiarized with this term, a hysterectomy is the surgical removal of the uterus. It may also involve removal of the cervix, ovaries, fallopian tubes, and other surrounding structures. Ouch!

How I got myself into this mess is beyond my comprehension. I thought I was living a healthy lifestyle by eating wholesomely, exercising daily, controlling stress, meditating, calling my mom regularly, etc. Surprisingly, a nasty sneaky fibroid was living cozily inside my uterus getting fat and big at the expenses of the organic, fairly-traded, locally grown, non-GMO, ethically-sourced food that I was eating. Life, my fellow readers is as unpredictable as the NYC weather. One day we are suffering under what I like to call the 100F Satan weather and the very next we are literally searching frantically in our closets for a fall jacket because the weather is now 40F cooler.

If in your next life you choose to be a benign tumor looking for a place to live, your best bet is to aim for the uterus. This organ is considered prime real state amongst other organs since it has all the perks that you as a tumor should be looking for. It is warm, it is located near food sources (e.g. eggs full of hormones), and the view is great! I mean, the uterus has unobstructed windows to the Central Park of the human organs a.k.a. the vagina. Unfortunately, my tumor treated his Fifth Ave. penthouse condo *clears throat* i.e. my uterus- as only a nouveau riche could. He indulged in each and every-one of the seven capital sins to the point where his neighbors The Ovaries, The Fallopians, and Mrs. Cervix along with people from other neighborhoods like Doña Bladder and his husband Mr. Large Intestine unanimously voted for his eviction.

My tumor didn't leave peacefully, he put on a fight that had me resting at home limiting my physical activity to the bare minimum. I had plans of spending my recovery weeks reading all the books that I hardly have time to get to on my "normal days" but in reality I could hardly concentrate since I was taking painkillers so strong that had me high as a kite or sleepy for the most part of the day. I needed something light and entertaining. And so I stumble upon Mad Men, and my life changed. Well, not really, but I loved the show so much that I binged watched 7 seasons in less than 4 weeks. I went from never turning on my TV to hardly turning it off. Mad Men and their incessant smoking and drinking habits kept me sane during one of the hardest yet most inspiring and life-changing events of my life. It also thought me that when in despair look for the silver lining, and so I did.

So to make a long story even longer, here are the Top-5 Lessons learned form a Hysterectomy -and Mad Men:

1. Be grateful to your body. We have heard this one before along with the obnoxious hashtag blessed but I mean, literally look at your legs right now and thank them for taking you places, look in the mirror and thank your eyes for letting you see the beauty of this world, even thank your reproductive organs for all the orgasms that you've been able to experience in your lifetime.  Never take your body for granted. Stop the self-criticism. Trust me, your thighs are not as wide as you think they are. You are perfect. In a world full of Betty Drapers be a Joan Holloway.

2. Embrace Change."And let's also say that change is neither good or bad. It simply is. It can be greeted with terror or joy. A tantrum that says "I want it the way it was". Or a dance that says "Look, something new". Don Draper.

3. Be patient. To be more precise, be a patient patient. Good things take time. Recovery takes time. We love instant gratification but your cells don't work that way. They are working hard to keep you healthy but getting anxious and expecting fast results are the kryptonite of recovery. I was directed by my doctor to take 6 weeks off from work. This forced "vacation" halted my life on its track. No going to the gym, no pilates, no yoga, no dancing. Thankfully, I felt better with every day that went by and slowly but surely I was regaining my mobility. My body reminded me daily that everything was coming together. My body had my back.

4. You are the captain of your destiny. Let's get real y'all. If I were to tell you that you have the power of becoming anything you want what would you do in your daily life? Would you quit your job? Would you get out of your long dead relationship? Would you start that beautiful dreamy boutique you've always wanted? Well guess what? You have the power of being the person you've always wanted to be because you are the CAPTAIN of your life. Stop coming up with lousy excuses. And now...I slowly disappear.

5. Get Netflix and Chill.  Ok, this one is completely unrelated to being in a hospital, or even being sick but I want to thank the Academy, my producer, my make-up artist, and all the others who made this possible specially Don Draper & Co. Thank you Mad Men characters for being so amazing in every way.

So for now I'm going back to my old ways where my TV is just a decorative accessory never to be turned on. I am going back to my "Hey Google, play Tchaikovsky" days and I'm going to pay more attention to my cat Nacho. Gone are the days of addictive binge watching. Let the new adventures begin.

With love,

Gloria E. Duque
Hysterectomy survivor, Unicorn Fantastique, Captain of My Own Life, Sculptor, Bad Ass, and CEO of Malpaso Fun Design. More on this soon...

Sex (or the lack of) and the City

On a cold winter night back in February 2015 and upon my return from a three-month sabbatical in Colombia I met Estela my real estate agent who amidst the very competitive housing market in New York City somehow magically pull out of her sleeve my beautiful –yet tiny- rental studio in the very chic area of Greenwich Village also known as New York’s Gold Coast at a non-obscene yet still scandalous for other parts of the globe monthly price. Am I bragging? Fuck yeah! This minuscule -and overheated- piece of floor plan smaller than some people’s closets makes me feel like a Latina version of Carrie Bradshaw and for those of us devoted Sex and the City fans this is a life time achievement, so allow me to boast like a spoiled 5th Avenue kid (Nah nah nah nah nah!)

One might think that -as the show suggested- living in the city and having an adventurous fashion sense should be enough to live a Carrie-esque love life. Unfortunately that is not the case. Even though the city is full of fantastic people, finding a fulfilling love connection can be a frustrating process. Ice breaking face to face at a bar or any other social venue has been replaced by pointless Tinder and/ or Bumble virtual chatting that usually leads to and even more senseless real life encounter with the non-photoshoped-enhanced version of the object of your temporary virtual infatuation. You are expecting Mr. Fantastic when in reality you are stuck with Mr. Disappointment.

After a handful of not-so-fulfilling first dates I decided to change my strategy completely. I was not going to look "for love". I made the decision of becoming the best person I could be for my own benefit and satisfaction. I started a passionate love relationship with myself (insert dirty thoughts here). I took myself to the fancier restaurants, the most romantic beaches, and the chicest clubs. I also bought myself flowers and treat my skin to facials and my body to massages. I became my very best friend. I even took myself to the coolest Valentine's party where I met awesome people who just like me embraced their singleness with pride!

Once I dropped the self-imposed expectations of finding a romantic partner and became my best friend, I fell in love with life. Having a loving relationship with myself has been a very fulfilling and liberating experience. The "need" of finding a boyfriend has been replaced with the joy of understanding that no one can "complete" me because I am already whole and that my lovers is the ultimate life time achievement.

Besos and shine like the stars that you are!

Gloria

Vintage dress directly imported from my aunt's closets. 

All pictures by CoCo. 

-"Is she back?" 

-"Maybe she has never left."

Celebrate Everything

hap·pi·ness
ˈhapēnəs/
noun the state of being happy (also known as one's inability to grow up).

Be happy. Celebrate everything*. Celebrate your life, your home, your family, your friends, your work, your food, your pets, your beautiful body, your city, your neighbors. Celebrate your problems because without them you wouldn't grow as a person. Celebrate your broken heart because now you've developed enough compassion to realize that we are all fighting a hard battle. Celebrate that husband, boyfriend, lover that got away because love when not reciprocated will flow back and soften and purify the heart. Celebrate everything, but most importantly, celebrate YOURSELF. 

Thank you to the beautiful stranger in Washington Square Park that somehow got involved in the awkward rapidly turned awesome experience of taking pictures to a complete crazy stranger wearing a fury Michael Kors jacket and American Apparel disco pants (have you noticed how many times I have worn these pants in this blog?) 

*Thank you secret male collaborator #1 for the where-the-hell-are-you-guayaba? e-mail. Thanks to people like you I keep this crazy project called The Guayaba Project alive. 

Peace and Love to all,

Gloria

50 Things that make me Happy :)

1. Putting almond butter on anything and everything.
2. Sabado Gigante on Saturday evenings. 
3. The Ocean. I just love the gentle and mellow yet powerful nature of the waves. I am sure that one day I will live by the sea.
4. Waking up every morning at 5:53am sans alarm. Sometimes I go back to sleep, but the idea of my brain being so punctual just mesmerizes me!
5. Getting a foam mustache with green tea latte. 
6. Necia my cat.
7. Necia walking on a leash in the park. We've made so many friends!
8. Necia massaging my belly. 
9. Mister Softee's melody. 
10. Dancing! Specially salsa. Can't get the Cali out of the girl.
11. Dogs in elevators. They are always so happy to see you come in, even if they have never met you before. Why can't we wag our tails at strangers the way dogs do? The world would be such a better place.
12. The smell of freshly brewed coffee.
13. Avocados.
14. Barré Burn classes. Yes, that shit burns your butt! The good burn tho...
15. Old ladies with extravagant outfits. 
16. Smiling at strangers. 
17. When a stranger smiles back at me. Extra points if the stranger happens to be male and handsome ;)
18. The Temple of Dendur at The Metropolitan Museum. 
19. Barnes and Noble in Union Square. I can spend hours there browsing at books. 
20. Facials, massages, hair washes...you get the idea.
21. The first kiss and all the subsequent kisses.
22. This song. 
23. The scent of fresh lilies. 
24. Hitting zeroes on the scale at the salad bar (freak!)
25. Buying socks.
26. Practicing yoga.
27. Playing futbol. 
28. My mom's lentil's soup.
29. Washington Square Park early in the morning.
30. My birthday!
31. Listening to audio books. Now I am into Eckhart Tolle, not only he's one of the best spiritual teachers of this century but his mellow voice has the capacity to relax me like no other. 
32. Coconut popsicles! 
33. Coconut body cream.
34. Drinking piña colada by the poolside of the Standard Hotel in Miami. Pure bliss! 
35. Soap bubbles.
36. Snowboarding! Yay!
37. Fresh laundry scent.
38. Ginger cookies. 
39. Croissants with black coffee. In Paris. 
40. Napping in the park after lunch in the middle of a summer work day.
41. New York City. The good, the bad, and the ugly. 
42. People that don't give a crap about what others think. Today I saw a girl wearing a Wonder Woman cape walking down 5th Avenue. She didn't think she was Wonder Woman, she was indeed Wonder Woman!
43. Squirrels a.k.a. the fancy rodents. They look all elegant running around the park like a rat with a fur coat. 
44. Getting a cold shower in the middle of a hot summer day.
45. Burning incense. Dragon Blood scent to be more exact. 
46. Dreaming that I fly.
47. Waking up from a bad dream and realize it was a nightmare. Phew!
48. When the Starbucks barista draws a smiley face next to my name.
49. Taking off my shoes when i get home, and my socks, basically getting rid of all clothing!
50. Guava and mozzarella cheese sandwiches. FYI this is my specialty, so feel free to stop by anytime soon. Meeting with friends is my all-time favorite thing that makes me happy!

Love letter to New York City

Dear New York City,

I recently moved to a beautiful studio apartment near Washington Square Park. The location is great, the building couldn’t be prettier (it has an elevator! Thank you for that), and overall the place is fabulous; but TINY! Tiny as in 300 square feet tiny. This of course shouldn't come as a surprise to you since you are used to people paying obscene amounts of money for petite spaces just to be able to call you "home".

I'm not writing to complain about my apartment. You and I have shared a beautiful on and off relationship for the past sixteen years. You thought me the meaning of unconditional love, otherwise I could not explain why on earth I would put up with your brutal winters, your humid and sticky summers, and your many times rude behavior if it wasn't for the fact that I love you. I just wanted to share with you how living in 300 square feet of wood flooring, Gypsum board walls and windows has changed my persona.

Living in such a small place turned me into a neat freak. When you have to share 300 square feet with a feline, when your bicycle encroaches into your kitchen, and when your "living room", "dining room", "bedroom", and "TV room" are all the same space you have to take organization to a whole new level. Remember that box full of music CD's that I kept holding onto when I was living in Brooklyn? Gone. How about those four pillows and comforters I used to keep on the unreachable upper shelf of my coat closet (what a luxury that is!) in my two-bedrooms two-bathrooms Philadelphia's flat that my guests enjoyed so many times? Gone. I even had to get rid of the guests* because quite honestly New York, they don't fit inside my place. Basically, I got rid of absolutely EVERY single item that wasn't essential to my survival.

Sometimes is difficult to understand that the purpose of relationships is to teach us lessons, and you my dear city had been the best teacher. You thought me how good it feels to live with less "stuff", to consume less, to appreciate more, and to realize that there's really no need (or available space!) to have twenty pair of shoes when you can only wear one pair at a time. Om sweet Ommmmmmm!

I hope we keep sharing many more years full of adventures and happy memories. Thanks for giving me the opportunity to be part of your history and thank you for all the good things you've been providing me with for the past sixteen years. My apartment -and my 5'-5" petite body- are living proof that all good things come in small packages (size does matter after all!).

With love,

Gloria

*Unless we are talking about a handsome male guest, in which case one shall make a huge effort and for once be hospitable and allow said guest to spend the night even if that means that the cat has to sleep outside by the hallway.

Saul Bass Film Posters

Have you seen Google today?

From Poul Webb's blog:

Saul Bass was born in 1920 in New York City, to a Jewish immigrant family. A creative child, he drew constantly. For college, he attended night classes at the Art Students League where he had the fortune of studying under György Kepes, a master of the functional Bauhaus aesthetic.

In the 1940s, Bass left New York for California. He worked mostly for advertising until his first major break: a poster for the 1954 film, Carmen Jones. The filmmakers were so impressed by his poster work, they invited him to design the title credits as well. This turned out to be a game changing decision.

Saul Bass stepped up the sophistication of film posters with his distinctive minimal style and he completely revolutionized the role of title credits in films. Traditionally, credits were static and drab. They were considered so un-important, they would actually be projected onto the closed curtains which would only open for the first official scene of the movie.

Bass, however, was committed to injecting life into these graphics, making them as much a part of the cinematic experience as anything else. Introducing his signature “kinetic type,” Bass’ letters dashed and moved across the screen and frequently incorporated images other than text.

Titles became a spectacle to be seen. Film reels with Bass credits were delivered to movie theaters along with a note: “projectionist – pull curtain before titles.” 

Bass went on to create dozens of iconic film posters and title credits. His final projects before his death in 1996 were credits for four Martin Scorsese films: Goodfellas (1990), Cape Fear (1991), The Age of Innocence (1993) and Casino (1995).

These are some of his best known film posters:

Real Nice Thing in Life #8

I studied in a bilingual school that thought me many things about the American culture. I remember dressing up as a turkey for Thanksgiving day, giving flowers to my multiple imaginary boyfriends for Valentine's day and celebrating 4th of July by taking the day off when the rest of my friends were stuck in school. I also learned a couple of dirty words from my more advanced classmates. I must admit however that terms like blow job, getting you off and heavy petting required a little bit more research with subsequent embarrassment  after finding out their real meaning (a blow job wasn't a job that needed to be printed at a larger scale, getting you/me off wasn't exactly letting someone get off a vehicle and that heavy petting didn't involve a four legged animal at all).

This "americanization" process allowed me to adapt fairly easy fourteen years ago when I moved to the US, to the point where I consider myself a New Yorker, or a Colombian-New Yorker since my "hardly" noticeable accent gives me away every time I open my mouth. I totally surrendered to New York City a lá Borg (Star Trek) style: ".....Resistance is futile" And indeed resistance was futile. I became one of their own, I now form part of their collective -- for the most part. Allow me to explain: As I was having dinner last week with a very good Colombian friend of mine the unavoidable subject of conversation (men) took a very surprising turn when she told me that her very beautiful American boyfriend doesn't shower in the morning, but at night!! (Note the double exclamation point). As shallow and stupid as this sounds (you weren't expecting any quantum physics material in this blog were ya?), this inspired me to dig deeply into the different grooming times between Colombians and Americans.

Let me share a little bit of information regarding the customs of the daily shower ritual in the land where I was born: in Colombia we take a shower every day of the week in the morning hours. You can be living in the mountains where the weather can be as cold as 30F and still get a shower in the morning, and since most of us grew up with a very restrictive use of a water heater (i.e. the water heater hours of operation are Mon-Fri 5am to 8am, and in more affluent families 5am-10am. Water heaters are non-operational during the weekends), frigid water is expected, warm water is a luxury, and scorching hot water is non-existent. Americans on the other hand (or at least the few brave that have shared their shower experiences with moi, and my friend's boyfriend), take a shower every day, but they do it at night. And their way of grooming themselves make a lot of sense, specially when you wake up in the morning to a lovely temperature of 10F (-12 Celsius). But as much as I've adopted the customs of this beautiful land, I'm incapable of leaving my house without showering in the morning facing the risk of chronic pulmonary disease due to exposure to frigid temperatures. I would never fully wake up, I would be sleep walking my way to work, and my very oily hair would be shinning for all the wrong reasons. So who has it right? What time do you shower? Do you even shower every day? (I must admit I give my shower the day off every other Sunday).

For now I'm not changing my morning shower ritual. Call me stubborn but there's nothing like the I can't-feel-my-toes-feeling when you step out of your home into the brutal NYC winter after a morning shower. Special thanks to the first world for allowing me to have a 24/7 operational water heater  for my very own leisure. Life is good.

Real Nice Thing in Life #8: Cultural differences, melting pots, taking showers (or not) preferably with someone else, Americans, Colombians, dirty words and Viva The Borg! 

How to survive a big load (of snow that is)

These past few days have been packed with exciting events like New York's Fashion Week, the resignation of the Pope (really? can he just resign? did he get a mid-Pope crisis? can't he just get a Lamborghini Diablo and tour the mountains of Italy before abandoning his followers? I'm so un-friending him!) and of course the Finding Nemo storm that had us covered with several inches of a powdery white substance called snow. For us mortals coming from the equator part of the globe this seasonal phenomenon still provide a great deal of excitement. The closest to snowing when I was growing up in Colombia was rain with huge balls of haze, better known as granizo. Usually this hail melts immediatly as it touches the ground. It never accumulates the way snow does.  

So in celebration of the messy snow that we (we as in we the people from The Guayaba Project, meaning me, CoCo, the ocassional friend that loves pictures, and the innocent neighbor that happens to be in the wrong place at the wrong time) love so much, we've designed an infallible  method on how to survive the mother of all loads. 

Recipe for Surviving a Storm

Ingredients:

2 Small bottles of Aguardiente (Vodka, Sake, or Gin acceptable too. Adjust portions as necessary).
1 Gigantic pretty dog.
1 Crazy friend.
1 Amazing photographer.
Multiple classes of yoga and meditation to enjoy this absurd cold weather as much as a day in the warm beaches of the Caribbean.

Open one bottle of aguardiente 2 hours prior to the beginning of the storm. Consume with friends, photographer, neighbors, and total strangers. The more people involved, the merrier. Heat should be starting to build up in that cold body of yours. Adjust clothing as necessary. 

Send the crazy friend to the unknown neighbor and have her ask him for his pretty gigantic dog. Pretty gigantic dogs always make for great picture backgrounds. 

Open bottle #2 and if brave go outside. Limbs should start to freeze rapidly, so move fast. Photographer might start to see double. Make sure to adjust camera to automatic focus at this time. 

Try to enjoy the storm until the aguardiente is over or until you can't feel your toes, whichever comes first. Make sure to take a warm bath after. The chances of loosing parts of your extremities due to frost bite are great. Enjoy the snow!

Kisses,

G

All pictures by CoCo. Merci mon amour.

Times Square

Times Square, those 10 or so blocks packed with cheesy souvenirs and smiley tourists. The perfect place for people watching, specially when you are the one using one of the busiest sidewalks of New York City as your personal boudoir.

Have a great week and see you soon (if you've been reading my blog, you'll know that I still have to pay a visit to the ophthalmologist, my eyes are literally 8 inches away from my screen. Retro-glasses, here I come!) 

Holister t-shirt, Madewell Jeans, Michael Kors Chastity Belt :), Shoes, stolen from a friend after she couldn't fit in them any more  (apparently after pregnancy your feet grow one full number, luckily for me I was born with a very standard size 7, not too big or too small, and if needed my toes expand or contract to fit any shoe. Pregnant ladies out there with cool looking shoes, don't forget about me), Coach bag, Germs on the filthy sidewalk and all over my hands and butt by the entire world.

SoHo-Ho

In latitudes where seasons are as intense as New York's, the weather becomes a daily topic of conversation. If you are forced to speak to someone in an elevator the first thing you say is: "How do you like this weather?" (assuming that day is one of the 30 really nice days out of the entire year), or "Isn't it miserable outside?" (and this applies to pretty much the 335 remaining days of the year). You don't ever leave your house without checking the weather (or without your cell phone, can someone remind me again how the heck did we function years ago without that extra limb called the cell phone?) because in this area of the globe Mr Temperature suffers a severe case of maniac depression. One minute you are freezing, and all of a sudden you feel like you are being cooked into a perfect medium rare term. When Mother Nature along with Mr. Temperature, God, Helios and probably the Planets are in a good mood, they reward us with the beautiful gift of a perfect day. These very few days cannot be wasted indoors under any circumstance, specially when one of your best friends calls you to meet in SoHo for a photo shoot for her website. 

"Taunt by passers with your camera? sure! I'll see you there!"

Have a great week everyone :) 

Must have accessory of the season: a gorgeous sweetie pie dressed in pink tutu and silver shoes. 

Extra points if her dress matches your hair highlights.

Customized I LoveNewYork Tshirt stolen from your friend (you don't want it back do you?) 

Vintage skirt, Miu Miu shoes that I'm planning to milk forever :)