TOAST BAKERY & CAFE - french toast + man buns + a whole lot of hair flips

As suggested by the title, this post will contain many pictures depicting me awkwardly doing way more hair flips than necessary, to the point where it's just weird. This is what happens when I try to mix things up.

I honestly didn't realize how ridiculous all of these hair-flipping photos look until I started writing this post...

I guess everything looked better in my camera roll.
Maybe I'll just blame my brother because he's the one who took these pictures.

On the final full day of my Thanksgiving week back home, my brother and I decided to head to Beverly Hills for some brunch and window shopping at stores in which we can't even afford to buy a keychain (Louis Vuitton or Chanel, anyone?). I once saw a joke on tumblr that said:

*gets $15 gift card to Louis Vuitton, buys piece of dust floating in the store*

...I find this disturbingly accurate. It's like one of those things where you laugh at first, only to realize, as you continue to laugh, that it's actually pretty sad. 

At least the brunch was amazing enough to make me forget about the fact that I don't have a sugar daddy to take me shopping on Rodeo Drive.

(don't worry mom, my life goal is not to find a sugar daddy)

I unexpectedly found street parking by Toast Bakery & Cafe in record time, only to be told that a parking permit was necessary, just as I spotted a parking enforcement person (officer?) mercilessly slapping tickets onto front windshields on the opposite side of the street.

Of course it was too good to be true. Welcome to Beverly Hills.

As I panicked and drove away from the threat of getting a ticket, I proceeded to pay a $6 flat rate at a nearby parking structure, quickly realizing I would inevitably be broke by the end of the day.

I hate short menus. I feel trapped by them, and no, I really don't want my only options to a bacon and cheese omelette, oatmeal, or a breakfast sandwich with the possibility of a pathetic side of fruit (aka watery honeydew melon and a few questionable grapes). Give me a four-fold menu with separate sections for french toast, waffles, omelette's, and some lighter options! I want choices. And choices I got.

I'm a sucker for french toast. I probably I already said that in one of my other posts - most likely this one. But I also love waffles. I face a lot of inner conflict when I go out for breakfast.

To make this momentous decision, I made the obvious choice of deferring to our waiter, a 6'2"-ish guy sporting a man bun and beard - a poster-child (poster-man? poster-man-child? no.) for LA hipsters. It was love at first sight, and when I asked him whether he thought I should get the waffles or the french toast with seasonal berries, and he recommended the french toast, I knew it was meant to be.

As promised by man-bun, my french toast was BOMB and the berries on top weren't some weak, half-smushed, old berries. They were fresh and pristine - how berries should be. I just really appreciated this meal, as did my brother who regretted ordering a breakfast combo because while it came with french toast, eggs, and fruit (an enticing combo), he didn't get as much french toast as he could have, had he ordered the same thing as I had.

Sucks to suck.

The french toast was so good that I kept eating it despite the fact that after two pieces, I thought my stomach would burst. Wow, don't these beautiful descriptions of me stuffing my face make me sound super attractive? Single and ready to mingle.

Maybe this picture describes how I feel about the situation...

*flips hair at whatever negative thoughts I/others may have because that french toast was amazing and I eat super boring food every day while I'm away at school so no I don't care that I ate all of it*

*#NoRagrets#YouKnowWhatI'mSayin#StevieP*

As I said in my last post, I went Black Friday shopping at Zara, where in addition to purchasing a houndstooth skirt and oversized, chunky-knit turtleneck sweather, I followed my brother into the men's section and found this awesome floral-print jersey. I got it in an XL and voila, it's now a shirt-dress.

Not going to lie, it's a bit short, but hey, nothing a pair of black spanx can't fix. I paired this jersey-turned-shirtdress with my black hi-top converse (surprise, surprise), and a small green crossbody bag from Michael Kors. 

In all honesty, I was against that bag for a long time. It was given to me as a gift, and while I loved the size and overall shape/design, I hate the color. But what the hell. It adds a pop of color, which might be a good thing, considering that most of my wardrobe is black/white/grey. Also, my TOMS sunglasses have some green on the sides, so I guess you could consider that color-coordinating??

Now while this outfit probably wouldn't work as a winter getup in Berkeley, it definitely works in LA winters. Just kidding, winter doesn't exist in LA. Seasons other than Summer do not exist in LA. Did I mention that it was 90 degrees on Thanksgiving Day?

Until next time, Beverly Hills and glorious french toast.

And I'll come back for you, man-bun :)