salt waves on an ocean drive

In late August I booked flights to Croatia with twelve days notice before this trip with my friend Cynthia. I'm not usually one for spontaneous plans, but after not taking any time off all summer, I was itching to get away to someplace new. Croatia had everything I wanted from a European vacation: ancient and medieval buildings, rich history, Mediterranean flavors, and seaside views. And before I even had time to process my upcoming trip, I was off for a week on the Dalmatian coast where I traveled to Split, Dubrovnik, and back to Split again for my flight back to New York. 

I've been trying to shoot more on my SLR lately after only packing point-and-shoots on my last few trips, and I got lucky that I was able to find a lab in Split that did an incredible job with developing and scanning my rolls in just one hour. This trip inspired me to shoot more than I have in years, and for the first time maybe ever, I ran out of fresh film several days early. I don't think I was adequately prepared for how stunning the views would be in the late summer sun, but I hope I was able to capture what it was like to turn a corner and see golden light spilling through narrow alleyways or views from high vantage points and share what it was like for you here. 

xoxo, vivian

secret gardens in my mind

I was testing out the fresh battery I loaded into my Olympus camera when the lens door broke off the night before my flight to LA. I've been shooting this camera for over a decade now, and even though it had a lens flare problem since we first met, this camera was something of a constant companion through dozens of moves and travels both near and far. George thought I seemed weirdly unbothered when I told him my camera broke until he noticed I have two other Olympus point-and-shoots (thanks Amanda for rescuing these from your parents' house and gifting them to me). One of them came to OC with me for a wedding that weekend, and I'm thinking about loading my black and white roll (my second ever) into the other. The cameras come and go but at least I'll still have the records they create.

Spring in New York bloomed in fits and starts this year. I went back to DC for a weekend trip last week when there were still bare branches and unfurled magnolia buds on trees only to return to tender greens and sidewalks littered with fallen petals. Back in February, I booked my Amtrak tickets to visit some friends in April thinking we'd wander through the wisteria at Dumbarton Oaks, one of the few DC bucket list items left unchecked after living there for five years. Winter was cold—I thought for sure the bloom would be later than usual, but unfortunately I didn't account for there to be a few unseasonably warm spells in March and early April accelerating peak wisteria after all so they were nearly all gone by the time I arrived. 

A week before I left I asked George to teach me how to shoot manual on his mom's DSLR. I wish someone had handed me a camera like this eleven years ago when I first felt the desire to shoot; back then I was so broke I couldn't afford anything more than that first Olympus point-and-shoot I bought for $33.70 off of eBay and a $13 pack of 3 Fujifilm Superia Xtra 400s from Amazon. I've loved my decade of film (and much-improved iPhone cameras), but lately I've been wanting more autonomy over the images I create to experiment with light and depth and color in post. The Dumbarton photos turned out better than expected, but I also still have a lot left to learn with shooting digital and closing the gap between what I want to create and how I actually make it happen. Maybe this is the push I need to finally try shooting in manual on film too.

The photos I originally had in mind were framed by pale purples diluted with white sunshine and shadows that faded into nothing. I thought I wanted a look that was overexposed and dreamy, but when the skies turned grey and the greens got even deeper I couldn't stop thinking about that line from the bridge of Florence + The Machine's "South London Forever" that goes: and I don't know anything / except that green is so green / there's a special kind of sadness that seems to come with spring. 

I hope it's beautiful too from wherever you're reading this.

xoxo, vivian

la vie en ambre

Here are some photos from my week in Paris at the start of this month. It was fun to revisit the city on what was functionally a solo trip; George was there for work so I didn't see him for most of the week, but I took the time off to wander on my own. Early November was a surprisingly beautiful time of year to be there: the fall foliage was at its prime, and there were no crowds or lines at almost all of the places I wanted to go. 

Some quick highlights from my week:

• French food for lunch and Asian food for dinner: I wasn't meant to eat butter three meals a day. This felt like the right balance for me to enjoy French food (and often at better prices at lunchtime) on a daily basis, plus I found solo dining at Asian restaurants to be less daunting for dinner. Thanks to Mary for the Asian recs: Abri Soba; Mam from Hanoi; Sanukiya
• Photo tour with Tory, who captured all of the snaps of me, including on my SLR, throughout picturesque spots across the city in one day. I wish I had a Tory in every city I traveled to!
• Coffee roasting experience at a studio inside the Passage de Panoramas: I've been trying to prioritize doing more "making" activities this year instead of just constantly consuming, but didn't want to do a baking class and end up with too many sweets or baked goods than I could reasonably eat before they went bad. Learning how to roast my own coffee beans was a nice way to make something that I could savor at home later, and the setting made it fun to learn more about the history and architecture of Paris
• Sketching, reading, writing in cafes and parks around town; The Likeness by Tana French was my constant companion for the week, and I savored every minute of that book
• While the other museums I went to were new to me (Jeu de Paume, Musée Carnavalet), I loved revisiting the Musée d'Orsay with a guided tour. Orsay is among my top five favorite museums I've ever been to, full stop, and everything about it—the old train station building, the views of Paris from gallery floors, and of course the collection itself of my favorite period of art history—made it worth going back to
• I'll never tire of the thrill of catching up with old friends in new places 

We also stopped by London for a few days before coming back, and I found that I don't miss it the way I used to when I first left. Maybe it was the misery of getting sick again at the end of the trip or maybe it was something more intangible: the opportunity cost, that life I could have had if I toughed it out and stayed four years ago, doesn't seem so sweet anymore—either way, I found myself glad to be coming home and grateful to live in New York, despite everything. 

xoxo, vivian