Hi! I'm Elyse Gibson, an advertising copywriter in Minneapolis. I love all things design, pop culture and creative. Think in Bright Colors is a compilation of my favorite ad/design/interactive work, inspirations and beyond. To check out my advertising portfolio, visit www.elysegibson.com.
It’s go time.
Welp, kids. Wedding weekend is finally here. After 18 months of waiting patiently and then not-so-patiently Brad and I are on-deck.
So maybe I should get off the Internetz and hang out with my family? Ok. Fine.
Catch ya’ll on the flip side!
One of my favorite parts about being back in northern Virginia is hanging out with this little lady. Isabel’s a total doll.
Happy Friday! Today’s been an easy/fun day…mostly because it’s my last day at work before all the wedding shennanigans begin. OMGZZZZ IT’S HAPPENINGGGGGGGGG.
The best part of today was the special Mother’s Day Lunch we had at work which was themed “Supermoms.” I invited my grandmother who lives in town to attend. She’s 85 and just as sassy as ever. We had a great time and she got a kick out of seeing where I work and meeting my friends/colleagues. She pointed out that five members of our family have worked in ad agencies, which is pretty dang impressive. Check her out playing some pool on the creative floor. Like I said, still sassing it up.
Guys, I’ve been in a little bit of a funk this morning.
Even though the Washington Capitals won game 7 last night, the evening turned mighty ugly when a string of racist tweets were made by some of the worst Bostonians ever. Joel Ward scored the GAME WINNING GOAL in overtime in game 7 which is KIND OF A BIG DEAL, and the second after he scored, a string of RIDICULOUS RACISM started flooding Twitter. I really hope all these people lose their jobs or their hair or dignity or something today.
Then this morning, one of the first articles I read was about this little boy sitting next to complete ASSHATS at a baseball game, who wouldn’t give him a darn foul ball. I mostly love Michael Kay’s commentary…and how he’s saying EVERYTHING I WAS THINKING. Who does that?
Needless to say, my faith in humanity has been a bit shaky today already. And it’s only 8:45am.
So when I saw this video of a dad who drives his kids to school to the song Bohemian Rhapsody every day to pump them up, I almost wanted to cry. Almost. THE LITTLE BOY IN THE BACK IS KILLING ME. So flipping awesome. Now THIS is a childhood.
To say I am getting excited for our France-tastic honeymoon is beyond an understatement. I can’t wait to wander down the Champs-de-Elysee with Brad, eat chocolate croissants every morning, wear flirty dresses, daydream in front of paintings at the Louvre, poke into little shops and around flea markets, picnic in Champs de Mars, snack on crepes and macaroons, pretend to be Amelie in Montmarte, skip down the Seine…
What’s funny though is that I had completely spaced on the second leg of the trip until today. We’re spending one week in Paris, and then heading south where we’ll be in St. Paul de Vence (haha from one St. Paul to another!) for a few days and then in Nice for another few days. This is the leg of the trip that will feature a lot of poolside lazying about, big floppy sunhats, couple’s massages and garden strolls. Le sigh…
I started putting together a little Paris, Je T’Aime Playlist to get me in the mood. Here is a taste, but you can listen to the whole thing here on Spotify:
Maybe this week I’ll start watching some of my favorite France-inspired flicks like: An American in Paris, Paris Je T’Aime, Forget Paris, Midnight in Paris, and of COURSE Amelie.
P.S. The images above are from my Pinterest board called Francophile.
P.P.S. I also discovered Live Mocha last night thanks to a tip from a coworker. It’s a free website that helps you learn languages, similar to Rosetta Stone. I think I was driving Brad insane last night as I practiced my phrases, “La voiture n’est pas rouge. La voiture est blanc.” Can you tell I’m KIND OF excited?
Guys! Guys! Guys! Get ready not to pass out from shock. Seriously, brace yourself. Last night I baked.
By myself.
Totally unprovoked.
All from scratch.
ALL. FROM. SCRATCH.
Brad didn’t even step foot in the kitchen. He didn’t pull out one cookie sheet or cooling tray. I did it all by myself. It’s kind of pathetic how proud of myself I am. Actually, mega pathetic considering I am an almost-29-year-old grown-ass woman. But whatever. He usually doesn’t even LET me in the kitchen so I think this was huge for both of us.
He had made a little joke after our big awesome salad dinner (grilled chicken, avocado, tomatos, green beans, hard-boiled egg and lettuce); “what’s for dessert?” And I started wondering. Hmmm…what can I bake that’s not too hard and not too unhealthy and that we have all the ingredients for already?
OFF TO THE GOOGLE MACHINE!
In no-time I found a simple peanut butter cookie recipe (only 4 ingredients! Whaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa?) that was completely flour-less. Sure it wasn’t HEALTHY but it also wasn’t terribleeeeeeeeeeeee. So yeah. Off to the Mixer I went! I was crackin’ (eggs) — haha. Little baking joke there for ya.
Anyway, they turned out yummy and crumbly; and PERFECT with milk in my new “Mrs.” cup from Ainara. And they tasted especially delicious complemented with the Washington Capitals victory that we also watched :) Ahhhh, sweet sweet success.
Happy Monday, folks. It’s about 40 degrees and SNOWING here in Minneapolis…but honestly, I’m just happy we’re tornado-free. A lot of the Midwest got HAMMERED this weekend with tornadoes; which is terrifying. And since the snow isn’t sticking this morning, it’s harmless and is pretty much just acting as a conversation starter in elevators today. Tomorrow it’s supposed to be back int he 60s. Thanks, Minnesota Spring! I love you!
I’d give this weekend a solid A if I had to grade it. The highlights of which include:
My friends are TOTAL enablers.
Let me back up. Everyone (well, everyone meaning my friends/loved ones/anyone who reads this blog) knows that I have a *minor* obsession with Kate Spade. And by minor obsession, I mean, hugely ridiculous borderline-creepy obsession.
So when I got an email for 25% off ALL items on KateSpade.com (including already on-sale items), I panicked. And I impulse purchased this bag I’ve had my eye on for a couple of months. Instead of SHAMING me for having no self-control, my friends all supported me…nay…ENCOURAGED AND ENABLED ME. JERKS!
My favorite snippet:
Me: It’s shouldn’t feel this good to buy things.
Lauren: That’s why they call it retail therapy. But it’s so cute and perfect for Par-ee.
Lauren: Beautiful, gorgeous crack.
We’ve all been there.
You’re REALLY excited about something—sometimes it’s large (I GOT AN ‘A’ ON MY ORGANIC CHEMISTRY FINAL! I GOT A PROMOTION! I’M ENGAGED!); sometimes it’s small (THEY HAVE A NEW FLAVOR OF GELATO! MY FAVORITE MUSICIAN IS COMING INTO TOWN!)—but honestly, the size does not matter. You’re jazzed. You’re pumped. You’re typing or talking in ALL CAPS! WITH EXTRA EXCLAMATION POINTS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
And then someone swoops right in and not only kills your buzz, they straight up rape and murder it violently. Special Victims Unit-style.
“Oh you got an A on your final? That’s cool. I had that professor last year. He gave A’s to EVERYONE.”
“Oh you’re getting married? Have fun never having sex again.”
“Oh I’ve seen that musician live. She’s AWFUL in concert. I had to leave the show early.”
Wow. Really?
Your joy just evaporates. Leaving as quickly as it probably arrived. Not only has your excitement been completely rejected, but it’s also been kicked in the shins multiple times with a sledgehammer doused in acid.
Ouch.
When you’re a naturally enthusiastic, passionate person, this happens ALL the time. It’s part of the cost of being a thirsty-for-life, excited-no-matter-what kind of human. People intentionally, or unintentionally, kill your buzz. Throw off your mojo. Trample your chi.
So how do you fix it? How do you take back those good vibes? How do you ignore what those grinches and bitches said? Ha. It’s easy! Kind of…or maybe you just get used to it; either way, here are a couple of things to realize the next time you find yourself floundering in one of these funks:
In life, there are cynics, know-it-alls, bullies, insecure idiots, debbie downers and all other kinds of joy thieves who hate to see genuine joy. It reminds them of what they are unable to experience: authentic excitement that’s not colored by fear or anxiety.
Sure, sometimes, it’s not about any of that. It’s about someone who’s just having a bad day or who is actually trying to WARN you about something or set up your expectations. They might be your best friend or your mom or your husband. They might be totally great 99% of the time. But just don’t let them and their judgments/opinions/outlooks affect your level of excitement.
It doesn’t matter if what was said was said with malice or not. All that matters is that you stay true to you. Stand by your excitement. Don’t let your heart get broken by some cynical, clueless, insecure dipshit. You can’t let negative energy ruin experiences or life for you. You just can’t. So don’t.
Last night my friend Lisa and I went to the Of Monsters and Men show at the Fine Line here in Minneapolis. It was one of those rare shows that hugs your heart.
It’s odd, but I really only feel like about one in four shows am I ACTUALLY, deeply, emotionally engaged. Living in the moment. Feeling the music. Smiling inside. Electrically charged. Not fiddling with my phone or wondering when it will be over and how much parking will be. This was one of those one in four.
Whether a show engages me in this way or not depends on a mixture of factor; most of which are completley beyond the control of the artist. For example, my mood, my viewing area (are there SUPER tall people in front of me, or some kissing couple?), how much I know/love the band, the general annoying-ness of people around me, the lighting, and if my feet hurt. I know some of those factors are super lame…but even the smallest things can be a distraction at a live show (a drunk girl behind me, or a dud speaker that’s flickering in and out). All these things take me out of my moment…and last night, there were none of these factors.
We carved out our own little niche at the top of the stairs on the side of the stage. Settled in nicely. Didn’t have to wait too long for the show to begin. And maybe it was because I had zero expectations about how the band would be or how the show would go…but it was beautiful.
Of Monsters and Men is one of those bands that seems like they have 900 people in it (although it’s really just seven). With two lead singers (one girl and one boy) who both play guitar, another guitar player, a bass player, a drummer, and two keyboardists/accordian players/trumpet players—it’s crowded up there! Their style actually reminds me of a Beirut (horns/energy/creativity) meets Mumford and Sons (soul/strings). Very lively, yet moving. Soulful. Warm. It’s something you could sit and sip tea in your cabin to, but definitely not sleepy or lazy. There’s a beat. An energy. And a beautiful vulnerability in the vocals. Something nostalgic burried inside of its pockets.
The band members were all terribly endearing. Their English was adorably imperfect (they’re actually Icelandic!) and I was only picking up like every 8th word—but you could understand their demeanor through their smiles. My favorite part was during their encore, when they announced, “And now for one more song.” Someone in the audience yelled “THREE MORE SONGS” and the lead singer laughed and replied, “We don’t have three more songs. We’re a new band, remember?” Everyone laughed. They were just so modest and endearing and authentic—they kept saying “Thank you SO much for coming out on a Thursday to see us.” It’s lovely to see a thankful, grateful musical act who appreciates the support and is still in disbelief that they are touring and making money and have fans. It’s so heart-warming. I feel like a lot of times when bands make it big, they take the support for granted. Or they don’t appreciate the fans.
The concert turned me into a big fan! Can’t wait for their full-length record to release later this week (April 3)!
Whew! What a weekend! I was back in DC for a couple last minute wedding-related meetings and hair trials—as well as my bridal shower and bachelorette party. It was BEYOND amazing and I cannot thank my amazing bridesmaids enough for coordinating everything and making it one of the most special weekends of my life. From the food to the decorations to the gifts and to the little surprises along the way—I was blown away by the amount of thought, attention to detail and effort that went into every part of it. I am seriously floored. I mean, HELLO—the bridal shower was themed “Gelato and High Heels!” Could that be any more perfect/Elyse-like?
Here are a handful of photos that my friend Amanda and I took via Instagram. I know a lot of girls, as well as my Mom and sister, took some amazing photos and I can’t wait to post some of the best ones on here a little bit later.
Today I’ll be playing catch up at work and at home during this rainy, cloudy Monday. Sidenote: Anyone else exhausted by this springing ahead non-sense? I cannot seem to wake up today!
Well kids, I’m off to good ol’ Reston, VA for a long weekend filled with catering walk-throughs, hair trials, makeup trials and other wedding to do’s. But MORE IMPORTANTLY, I’m also excited for my bridal shower and bachelorette party! I can’t wait! A lot of friends and family will be there and I am just so excited to be surrounded by my favorite ladies for a full weekend of joy and laughing and cocktails. Hope everyone has a fantastic rest of the week, and I’ll catch you on Monday :)
Hope everyone had a nice weekend. Mine was very low-key…which is, in my opinion, the best kind of weekend.
I got a b(r)unch of Molly Miller time on Saturday! First we went to the Modern Cafe in Northeast for her birthday brunch and it was very simple and delicious. I really love diners that don’t try too hard. They have a small menu (which makes deciding way easier for me), and a sweet ambiance and it was just delightful. Of course Molly and I could not shut up. I felt bad for the dude sitting next to us, hearing all the dirt about work and boys and friends and weddings. Ever since she switched jobs, I’ve had INTENSE Molly withdrawal, so it was nice to just not feel rushed and talk to our heart’s content. I also got to give her a birthday present I found for her on Etsy; a little necklace with a muffin tin and whisk on it! Check it out in the picture of her above. It just SCREAMS Molly. After brunch we did a bit of shopping! We went to I Like You and then to a trunk show at Parc Boutique where I got 2 cute honeymoon-worthy summer dresses, a new scarf and a beautiful pair of earrings for $130. It was the perfect girl’s day!
Then I had to get home and take care of a sick Brad. He’d been feeling under the weather since Friday and had been laying low. And if you wanted further proof of what an undomesticated terrible life partner I am, HE MADE HIS OWN CHICKEN SOUP. WHEN HE WAS SICK! That’s just pathetic. But in my defense, I OFFERED to make it for him. But then he decided it would be easier for his sick, weak self to slave over the stove than to try to explain to me how to make it. Womp womppppppp. So a lot of the weekend was spent re-watching season 1 of Game of Thrones and then watching the Academy Awards.
But we did TRY to be productive for a little bit at least. This weekend we also decided to start trying to organize the 9 million closets in our house (9 million = 4). When we moved in a full year ago, we basically just threw every receipt, bobby pin, broken electronic, etc. into these closets without rhyme or reason. Now? We have no space. Duh! So we have to go through all the closets, reorganize everything and try to get rid of a lot of old crap. So right now the house looks like a disaster area, which gives me massive anxiety. (I don’t do well with messes.)
I’m expecting this week to be fun and uneventful. That being said, I’m nervous for tomorrow night. Minneapolis is expected to get hit with 6-12 inches of snow…go figure, we get no snow the ENTIRE winter and now that it’s the tail end, we’re gonna get nailed. We’ll just have to see what happens!
In serious news, my 92-year-old grandma, Dorothy Jackel, is not doing so well right now. She’s currently in New Jersey where my Mom and Aunt Rhoda are hanging out with her. We’re not sure when she’ll pass, but we’re all collectively holding our breath right now. Please keep her in your heart and prayers.
Let’s have a happy week, guys :)
“Perfect is boring.”
I grew up hearing this phrase on repeat. Probably more frequently than the Sesame Street theme song—which is really saying something. My mom would utter it like a mantra whenever my sister or I got frustrated with our fingers, clumsily navigating them through a messy drawing or messy hair day. She told us that not only is being perfect a completely unrealistic goal—but that even if you achieved it—you’d find it so utterly dull that all your work and worry would be for nothing.
The woman was onto something.
I’m not sure how she knew that my Great War with Perfection would be a psychologically bloody battle throughout my life. I don’t know if she’s a psychic or soothsayer or if she’s just always known me really, really well. Maybe she spotted my mini-OCD moments—the organization of my toys in a perfect line at the age of 2 or how I cared for my dolls or how I hated being dirty or disorganized—and she added them up, deciding to take a more proactive parenting approach.
No matter what kind of clairvoyance my mother may or may not possess, I’ve been losing the battle against Perfection for years. I’ve been her prisoner for as long as I can remember, developing a sort of Stockholm Syndrome, “No, you don’t understand. Perfection is actually really nice once you get to know her.”
The most frustrating part is that I rationally understand that perfection is unachievable. That there are always flaws, blemishes, nicks, typos and creases—in plans, in pants, in people. That it’s impossible to control all aspects of life and manufacture real emotions the way I would manipulate images in Photoshop. And yet, I can’t let go of this longing for the unattainable. That skinny siren calls my name with every Pinterest photo, magazine cover, Pottery Barn brochure and skin cream ad (oh the irony).
I blame the wedding for bringing out this compulsion in me recently. Sure it’s usually stirring around inside of me—pushing for straight A’s and such—but all of the wedding planning and pressure (self-inflicted, of course) has been making my Perfection Reflex flare up more dramatically, like a weak ankle at the end of a marathon.
It’s pathetic, really. This compulsive need to achieve the illusion of perfection. Because it IS an illusion. My mother was totally right: there’s no such thing as perfect—and if there was, it’d be BORING AS SHIT. If everything went according to plan, and everything was done by the books, there’d be no room for joyful surprises, unexpected moments of tension and drama. None of that spontaneous joie de vivre. No poorly timed thunderstorms or snow days. And where is the humor, delight and fun in a surprise-less script that you wrote yourself? There’s beauty in the random and unexpected and even the unpleasant.
And don’t even get me started about how this whole concept of life being perfect if you’re in the puppeteer seat is deeply hubristic. It just reeks of arrogance…thinking that you know better. That you could better craft a perfect evening with friends—more so than if you just simply let go and let plans unfold naturally. If you let the stars and the mood and the magic just happen on its own.
These last few months before our wedding, I’m choosing to let go. Instead of fighting the uphill battle every day, I choose to find beauty and joy in the unexpected and in the real. In real life. Real emotions. Gritty, messy, ugly, hard, scary, stressful, unexpected life. It’s time to put on my brave face and not be afraid to get dirty. To get the hiccups. To get a pimple. To let go and have fun. Stop stressing about where we’re going to park. About getting straight 5.0’s on my performance review. Why can’t I just be my authentic self? My obnoxious, too loud, too curious, too quirky self?
One of my goals this year is to be more authentic. More honest. Less uptight and less controlled. To let go and embrace the realness and ugliness and awkwardness.
To just let go and let life. Unclench. Breathe. Live.
Yes, I am ditching Perfect. Leaving her for Authentic.
And it’s going to be divine.
Wow. What a freakin weekend! Brad and I got a LOT accomplished and also had a lot of fun at the same time—so, all in all, it was pretty much perfect. These were the highlights:
