Sasha Darling & The BellJar Blog

The jet lag returning from London has proven to be much worse than upon arriving. When I travel I’m so excited to arrive at my chosen destination that I just power through. But when I returned late Wed night, after what seemed like the longest hardest flight of my entire life, my new roommate had cooked me the most amazing meal. I then crashed at like 10 pm. only to wake at 3 am. I tried desperately to go back to sleep but alas, could not. So I got up and worked at the shop and then went to get my nappy hair fixed post travel. AT the Salon I was falling asleep in the chair. I just kept dosing off and yawning. I was meant to head back to the shop but instead had to go home and pass out. I fell asleep at like 7 last night and then once again woke up at 4 am to ponder such important issues as, should I get eyelash extensions? Seriously, does anyone have am opinion on this? I would really love to wake up to big full eyelashes every morning. I imagine I would always look fresh and glamorous, but do they make your real eyelashes fall out?? This is a very important topic that I need some input on please. Ok, ok, so when I arrived in London I was aware of how much I still sound like a 13 year old valley girl. I say like, like way too much. I also still use words like hella and totally and sometimes I even drop a mega bomb. So, as soon as I get around British people I start enunciating my words more thoroughly and conjugating my verbs properly and I really think that if I lived there for any extended amount of time that I would end up pulling a Madonna and speaking with a fake British accent. Why do people just sound smarter with an English accent? Sigh. But I will tell you, when Kat was fixing my hair last night at the Salon and talking like a Northern Cali, Marin girl it felt nice to, um, like be back home, like totally. So after pondering my fake eyelashes and how much more fake I would become if I got them, I started to thinking about facials and then botox and I was wondering if it was too early to get my first facelift (just a tiny one darling) and then I started to think about all the pressures to stay young and beautiful and then I started to get deep and focus on the inner me and how all the rest of that stuff is just masking inner turmoil and that maybe I should just spend more money on hiring a guru or something and really becoming that peaceful happy person I aspire to be, when I said fuckit…make up and hair and clothes make me happy so I’m totally getting a facial and some new boots and probably fake eyelashes. (hows that for the longest run on ever? Imagine what it looks like inside my brain). I used to argue with my ex-husband about this. He just didn’t understand all my obsessions surrounding vintage clothes and glamour and beauty products and beauty treatments. I honestly think that all of these things extend not from a shallow place but instead form an artistic place. I want everything in my life, all the things that surround me to be beautiful and exciting. This is just part of my basic artistic nature and I really don’t think there is anything shallow about it. I’m just as, if not more concerned with my insides as I am my outside. I probably yammer on more on my blog about my feelings and my personal growth than I ever do beauty products. Anyway, yes I am spiritual and all that beauty and confusion and the massive ball of emotion that I feel inside is directly related to how I aesthetically live my life as well as my personal style. Anyway I digress, after thinking about all this I checked my mail and got a really sad message from my friend Henry from the UK. We were trying desperately to hook up and say goodbye but it just never happened. Fate worked against us and we didn’t get to say goodbye. He wrote me the sweetest message expressing how sad he was about this fact and now I have both jet lag and a bit of the blues; just a tad bit. I feel so blessed for all the connections and friendships I have made as I have traveled, and this is a great thing to be feeling sad about. Especially as I know I will see my dear Henry again and we will have many more adventures in our lifetimes, both separately and together. Also left behind my dear Scarlett. We spent our days sitting by a fire in Forest Hill, running through the streets of Brick-lane, drinking a ton of red wine and shopping our little hearts out. I stayed at her Fathers house…and it was freezing in London. I mean freezing. We managed to make it out most days driven by our desire to shop and have fancy lunches but often could not be bothered to go back onto the cold at night. He father Joe cooked for us almost every night and we all stayed up late chatting and drinking and sitting by the fire. It was one of the mellowest and happiest vacations I have ever been on.

A few weeks back I was in San Francisco and I was at BellJar doing some work. I was sitting in my office, which is directly behind the cash wrap and I could hear the girls chatting as they made their purchases. I overheard two women speaking to Cydney. They asked how I was doing in LA and they mentioned that they followed my Blog and kept up on my whereabouts. Cydney told them I was fine and loving LA. Then one of them said, “Is she happy? IS she ok? Her blog is so funny and so sad.” It was so interesting hearing someone’s perspective of how I am perceived based on my writing. I always think of myself witty and glamorous and just a wee bit over emotional and terribly over dramatic. But yes, I went back and I re-read a bunch of my posts and I guess I do come off as a bit sad. And yes some day’s I am sad. But mostly I would say, I have the most beautiful and amazing life…I literally wake up most days and just thank my lucky stars to have made my way through my crazy existence to end up where I am now. I feel so free and I feel so artistically fulfilled. I feel that I have weeded out many of the negative factors/people in my life and am now left with a select group of wondrous and like-minded adventurers. And I feel like the people that are drawn to me, all the crazy interesting new characters that keep popping up are all rewards for living my life so honestly and with so much passion. But I am human, and I am terribly sensitive and I have my bad days. And I guess when I feel blue it makes me feel better to write, to emote and to share; to connect with others through my words. So I suppose here on this blog is a graveyard of Sasha’s bad days, but if you can read between the lines, there is always a message of hope and definitely a message of love. I am blessed, you are blessed; we are blessed.

Sometimes I just prefer to be around people much older and wiser than me. I love to spend my nights with the generation that grew up along side Dylan and Patty. I love to hear their tales of a time when life was hopeful and exciting and just a little bit dangerous. The things they love are the things that I love. The things that I know they find fascinating. I always feel beautiful and young and interesting. The judgments cease to exist, the walls fall and I can laugh as loud as I can find humanly possible; I can cry as intensely as I feel. I can be strong I can be vulnerable and they love me just for being so alive.

      Cara Hartley hair Stephanie Lawrence Makeup Nouel Riel Model Hannah Doerksen Model Ashley Anthony Photography Sal Morales(lighting)

I am a girl...I am so many different girls. Sometimes I'm strong and frank in a well tailored pant suit ready to deal with the business at hand. Other days I'm soft and fragile in my flowery cotton dress adorned with bows and ribbons on all of my frail limbs. Often I am 10 feet tall and those around me gasp in amazement when the world around my whittles me down to a miniature version of myself. Some days I wake and I can feel the warmth penetrating my sheers. I slip out from between my bedsheets and summon the likes of my mother, living on the ranch with the flower children prancing around and telling their tales of hope and peace. I put flowers in my hair to pay them homage; gauzey Indian dresses and Tibetan silks adorn my body as my hair falls naturally down my back. My grandmother looked so fine in a simple black, crepe dress. I have at least ten in her honor. I have promised myself to never wear them without the proper shoes and white gloves. On these days I sip my tea from a golden rimmed cup and eat sandwiches with the crust cut off. There is nothing like dancing in a super short mini dress and boots. It seems just plain improper not to pair these items with large, teased trestles. I'm not one for late nights these days, but when I wear a mini dress I feel compelled to dance the night away, crawling home at dawn with eyes like racoons and feet ravaged by the pinch of pointy toes. When sipping on cocktails I feel happiest in a formal dress. Covered in fur and sparkles as I tell stories of the way things were. I'm charming and alive in all my satin and silk as I sip on Savoys and dream that I might dance like Rodgers and Astaire. I often feel I was born in the wrong era yet I feel thankful to be alive and young. Friends who know me well, think I'm a country girl at heart and I cannot argue their point. Walking through soft flowing fields filled with daises peppered across the skyline, I feel content in a pair of cowboy boots and old dungarees. AS I child people were shocked that I caught snakes and lizards and chased schoolgirls down the hall, all the while wearing perfectly shined patent shoes that clicked as I walked. As far back as I can recall, I never wanted to be classified as just one thing. We change and we grow and we constantly reinvent ourselves. For me inconsistency has always been my constant. Every day I wake up to a new person. I girl just a bit wiser than the day before. And sometimes I'm the girl who makes the same mistake over and over but I still do it in perfectly shaded red lips and with the proper attire to match. It's important to always be whatever you are and more importantly who you aspire to be.