I write this perched atop my grey boucle desk chair (because Emily has a cool desk chair too and her last house was rose and grey so duh so was mine), vacillating anxiously between removing or continuing to wear my one remaining pair of “good” sweats. I’ve only pulled them on at all because yesterday I couldn’t tear myself away from yet another truly inspiring episode of Emily Norris’ life on her beautiful, overrun-with-followers, mommy-lifestyle-vlog YouTube channel. And she would never dream of sporting less than “good” sweats, I’m sure of it; that is if she has ever in her life worn sweats at all—because…why look like sh*t when you can look good. And she always looks good.
**I know I’m writing somewhat humorously here, but please know that in no way am I making fun of her—and would never—and I am dead serious about how much I love her.**
Don’t know Emily?
Sigh.
Emily Norris IS THE DEFINITION of…Lovely. I’m not kidding you.
Wafting humbly through her mansion-y, newly renovated-to-perfect designery cream and gold (with black accents!) home, in her perfect dress complimenting her perfect figure (sporting perfect super-posh fluffy slippers) and perfect hair and makeup, I’m overcome with gratitude that at least my kitchen is exactly like hers. In a scaled-down, cluttered, not totally clean and nothing-like-hers kind of way (but I still love my kitchen!).
My friend Priscilla and I (well into our 40’s—ok, I still do this) pretended we were accountants when we had to sit down with our finances, chef’s in our kitchens etc.
Now I mostly just pretend I’m Emily Norris.
I “met” Emily (watched her videos) when we we were both pregnant at the same time with our now six year-old children. We both opted for home births—hers, perfectly planned and executed while mine abruptly and ungracefully descended upon me at lowly Target where I last-minute scoured the aisles as I’d realized I’d neglected to even shop for baby blankets (I did make it home in time).
She tastefully filmed her birth, resplendent and glowy (full makeup!) in her cute birth DRESS in her living room without a peep of pain despite only delicately sipping some kind of light and lovely gas to calm her, while I screamed and prayed for the sweet release of death, sweating and forcing my daughter out onto the bedroom rug, gripping the side rail of the bed and (if I’m remembering correctly, which I’m probably not because I was half-dead) swearing.
Not only has she seriously and spectacularly mastered gorgeous house-wifery and “mumming” at its most glorious, but she’s business-ized it as well without seeming like she has at all—she’s just inviting me, her new friend, casually into her humble life. She’s also created not only genuinely awesome planners (because everything she does is super organized and italian-muah-kiss-the-hand creamandgold), but now she’s authored a book! (rose gold!), detailing her how-to-perfect-your-life tips, coming out the day after my birthday in March, which is celebration enough for me.
(You know I’m on that pre-order list).
But can we please, just for a moment, also talk about Matt, Emily Norris’ husband. Ok, first of all, she has a husband. Like, a good one. And second of all, he’s handsome, funny, owns his own edgy-cool barber shop, and is a super-involved, loving husband and dad. Oh, and he cleans. AND supportively helps Emily film her videos. They’re obviously super in love. While let’s just say that I’ve been divorced twice and my relationship with my daughter’s dad, though lovely in its own way, Just Did Not Work Out. But back to Emily. I forgot to mention that Matt is super stylish (like Emily!) and has a cool shoe addiction thing (and uses facial creams and hair products and buys Emily to-die-for perfume!). Well. Need I say more.
Yes I do.
Emily is ever-so-successfully raising three wonderful, handsome and well-adjusted boys and also has a small, perfect, non-shedding, cream and gold dog named, of course, Kiki. My dog is big and lumbering and leaves hair all over everything (but she’s very sweet and I wouldn’t trade her—or my own kids of course—for the world).
I can’t ever actually meet Emily, like, in Real Life. Not because the real her would shatter my expectations, or because I’d succumb to self-loathing and melt into an even messier-than-usual pile of…something, but because I’d surely somehow ruin it.
Just as she wafted in looking characteristically fresh and Lovely, I’d have just tooted, trip while awkwardly attempting to get up from my chair and not notice til later that I had (Emily’s signature!) Charlotte Tilbury mascara smeared under my left eye and a hummus stain on the boob portion of my ill-fitting and decidedly not feminine enough dress. (Emily is quintessentially feminine). She on the other hand, would kindly giggle conspiratorially with me and make me feel like creamandgold. She’s just like that. **And let’s face it, the only reason I “tooted” instead of “farted” is because…you guessed it: Emily Norris. She just sprinkles a little class over absolutely everything, and I’m here for that.**
Believe it or not, I’m not really comparing myself to Emily. I’m actually totally okay with the fact that I’ve prioritized Other (not necessarily more important) Things in my life and that my hair almost always snarls up into a frizzy…thing…no matter how great I’m positive it looked when I left the bathroom mirror post-styling.
But I can still dream of papering over my own lovely little life in cream and gold.
It’s my life and I can do that.
And sure, I get it. Emily Norris inc. is not so much a real-life, ugly-cry, grown-out-nail-polish woman as, well, a carefully curated brand. I get that curating her sparkling life necessarily includes an unimaginably rigorous filming, editing, Instagram-posting (not to mention cleaning and fashioning!) schedule. And I mean that sincerely. She deserves every bit of her success and clearly works very, very hard. But still—she does it breezily. Or at least appears to. And it’s because of her that I’m even thinking of keeping my good sweats on today. Anyway. As much as I’m truly in love with my own imperfect hot mess life, I’m also inspired by and in love with whatever version of hers she’s floating; and you can’t stop me.
...iF i CAn'T...🙃
...Then...
...i ShAn'T...😉
🤗SmiLesSs🤗
🧝~wiLL0w~🎈