My grandpa was a potato geneticist. Yes, you read that right. He bred potatoes, wrote his PhD dissertation on the genetics of potato breeding, and made my grandma sleep in a separate bedroom so that he could sleep with his piles of books on potatoes. Curled up into a little ball, he took up about 1/6 of the bed, leaving the rest for his potato books. Even in his last days at the hospital, potatoes were on his mind. Although he was barely able to speak, he mustered enough energy to tell me to go home and make sure the new potatoes he was breeding were properly covered with a damp cloth.
It should come as no surprise, then, that I love potatoes. I love them in any and all forms- fried, baked, mashed, you name it, I love it. When Ryan and I first started dating, I hid this love of potatoes from him. My 17 year old self thought he would think it was "too Russian" and therefore find it (and by proxy, me) unattractive. Oh yes, it's true. He still hasn't let me live that one down. I'm glad I'm over that little phase, because lord knows it would kill me not to pile my plate high with mashed potatoes this Thanksgiving. Buttery, delicious mashed potatoes. I'm trying to wear all my tights clothes and pencil skirts now, as seen below, because after Thursday it may be a while before I'm able to again.
- Forever 21 top (no longer available)
- Zara dress worn as skirt (not available online, may still be available in stores. Buy similar skirt here or here)
- BCBG belt (no longer available. Buy similar here or here)
- Fergie booties via DSW (not available online. Buy similar here or here)