Today I was in an unusually good mood, far from my scowls and confusion I’m usually faced with these days. It was almost euphoric, today. Perhaps it was because I knew that we would be closing down the office four hours too soon, to get a head start on Thanksgiving. Maybe it was because I was looking forward to finishing up the second Twilight book, “New Moon,” tonight (more on this in the future). One thing was for certain – the weather had an enormous amount of responsibility for my jovial mood. I heard the rain break through last night while I was driving and as God is my witness, it was incredible. I even saw the lightning. Los Angeles is beautiful when it rains. The smog and fog filled sky looks almost breathtaking, like some Apocalyptic painting no one was ever meant to see.

I smiled all the way home.

When I left work today, the weather wasn’t any different and I was enjoying every single minute of it, knowing full well that in an instant, it would disappear and the sun would pierce through again, ruining my rendezvous with the rain. I wasn’t as excited about the freeway as I was about the rain, I’m sure you’ve guessed. It was clogged with cars in every which way and I had no choice but to suffer through it all. I took comfort in the fact that I wasn’t exactly heading home, but to Whole Foods to buy some Quorn “Turkey” Roast for myself for tomorrow’s festivities. I can’t believe it has been almost a year that a piece of meat hasn’t touched my lips. Of course, because I still eat fish, I’m not a vegetarian in the true sense of the word, a bit like Edward Cullen I suppose. I don’t like talking about it when people ask me why I don’t eat meat. The idea of having to explain to them my thoughts on the matter are almost unbearable and definitely awkward and painful. This isn’t the first time I’ve gone pescetarian. I didn’t eat meat for about 10 months a little less than two years ago, but when Thanksgiving came around, I caved in. Once I tasted it, there was no point not eating it again on a regular basis.

I was taking a different route this year though. I didn’t have a particular interest in eating turkey, the smell of it repulsed me a bit, so the Quorn brand of faux-turkey was my next best option.

While I tried to make progress on the freeway, the rain suddenly turned violent and vicious and unleashed a three minute wrath of hail on everyone. I was enjoying myself, but remembered back to documentaries I had watched on the Discovery channel about golf-sized hail balls leaving cars looking like Swiss cheese. I had to remind myself that this was Los Angeles, and we had earthquakes and fires, not tornadoes and killer hail.

The parking lot of Whole Foods was an absolute nightmare. I had never seen it that bad before. Parking attendants were directing traffic and people were pulling in and out with carts. I eventually found a space and quickly got myself inside, focused on finding my Quorn Thanksgiving dinner. Inside was worse than outside. I was turning claustrophobic and had to take a dive in the hair care isle to stop myself from leaving without finding anything. No one else seemed slightly annoyed by the fact that there were so many people around. Maybe it’s me, I wondered. I found my Quorn and picked up some low-carb bread as well as some Ginger Peach tea from Republic of Tea – a treat to myself.

When I left, the rain had started coming down hard, so I ran to my car, but my paper bag was soaking wet. As I settled in my car, the smell of wet wood descended around me from the bag and forced me to open a window. My next order of business of getting the third Twilight book before I finished the second one, in an attempt to satiate my appetite when I finished. That search turned up fruitless, as the only version they had was a hardcover version, and I wasn’t in any mood in shelling out $20 for my guilty pleasure unhealthy obsession for a clumsy, accident-prone girl and her dazzling, vampire boyfriend. Sorry Stephenie Meyer, I had to draw the line somewhere.

When I walked out of the bookstore, it was drizzling. I pulled my umbrella out and propped it up. I hadn’t been walking in the rain for so long. It was beautiful. The gloomy skies, the wet ground, the silence of the entire city. I walked back to my car, disappointed, knowing full well that I could order on Amazon but the wait would be excruciating.

I got home and literally devoured the second book, and didn’t rest until I was done. This whole “Twilight” thing has turned me into a raging lunatic and I really don’t know how to stop. Mostly, I’m left wondering, “Why is this happening to me!” I have my theories I guess, but discussing them makes me sound crazier than I am now, so I’ll stop.

I’m looking forward to tomorrow. I have some intense baking to do in the morning, as well tidying up and then entertaining at night. I have my hopes set on traveling out to a J.Crew outlet for their “Hurray-For-The-Holidays” sale which starts at midnight tomorrow night. I know it sounds insane, especially since it’s Thanksgiving, but you don’t understand. No, you really don’t. It’s 50 percent off clearance, plus an additional 30 to 50 percent off regular stuff. It’s going to be fun little road trip for the three of us, including my sister and Nat, since it’s about 60 miles from my house. I’m afraid that our trip might be like that one episode of “Friends,” where Monica recruits Rachel and Phoebe to go wedding dress shopping with her and they have to communicate with whistles.

I’m a firm believer in quality versus quantity, in most aspects of life. The one area where this isn’t stressed enough is fashion and style. There was a period in recent years when I though the newly vamped and redesigned Forever 21 was the end all be all of clothing. I could walk in, get three shirts, five pairs of earrings, a bag and a dress for $50. Could it get any better than this? I thought. Little did I know, it could. In about six months time, all of those items either broke, came apart or disappeared into trend hell. That’s when I realized that the cheap and disposable route to fashion was a dead end.

I was never into Forever 21, to be honest. When classmates in high school would rant and rave about it, I would call it “Polyester Emporium.” I remember taking shopping trips to United Colors of Benetton and Nordstrom with my mom. When I was a toddler in Tehran, she would dress me in the best that European fashion had to offer. I had never even stepped foot in a Walmart until a couple of years ago.

My mom taught me a valuable lesson when it came to clothing: when shopping, quality always overrules quantity. You have to think of clothing as an investment, not something you can wear for a couple months and then throw away. Of course, disposable basics are always permitted, but when it comes to big things (wool coat, boots, dress shirts), the best thing to dispose of are idealogies that allow you to grab items feverishly until you can’t walk anymore just because everything is $20 or under.

I made a decision a couple months ago that as long as I could, I would buy myself one quality item a month – this would stop me from overspending in stores like Forever 21 or H&M and also leave me with pieces in my closet that can be worn again and again for years to come.

So every month, I’ve been sneaking out of the office and using one day’s lunch time to enhance my closet. My location: Third Street Promenade in Santa Monica. My targets: J.Crew, occasionally Banana Republic and the heavenly paradise that is Anthropologie.

While J.Crew has been a long time favorite and on the top of my list for many years, Anthropologie has been slowly looking to take its place for quite a while. Putting the luxurious, one-of-a-kind clothing and accessories aside for a second, when I walk into an Anthropologie store, all of my troubles just melt away. It’s as if, I’ve walked into my dream living quarters. The marketing geniuses of anthropologie rummaged through my brain while I slept and intercepted my dreams and then came back and created the inner workings of their stores. I’m convinced that this is what took place.

Part of the reason I probably feel that way, is that Anthropologie is not only selling clothes, its selling a lifestyle. A lifestyle that I am gobbling up like there’s no tomorrow. Established in 1992, Anthropologie has managed to bring in 50 percent of Urban Outfitters, Inc., their parent companie’s revenue, without the use of advertising. And I like that.

It just goes to show you that there is quality in their product. It’s the same with dog food. You can either go buy some Iams from the supermarket, or you can do your research, and find kibble from healthy and organic companies like Innova or California Natural.

I ventured over to Anthropologie on Monday and thought about never leaving. The smell of the candles, the colors of the clothes, the light shining through the second floor on dark brown parquet, the calm atmosphere, the not-so-many people, the way the sales people just leave you alone to shop and breathe, I cannot find one bad thing to say about this store. Except the prices, but those aren’t necessarily bad, they just come with the territory.

I left with Frenchy-looking perfume that smelled delicious and some grey cotton linen pants that fit me so perfectly, you would not believe. As I’m sure any woman knows, shopping for pants and jeans is a full day marathon that is likely to end in disappointment, tears and possibly ice cream. So imagine my excitement as these wonderful pants, that were on sale might I add, fit me as if they belonged to my body. Do you know how amazing it is to go shopping for pants and look at yourself in the mirror, all alone in your dressing room, with clothes scattered everywhere, under the most horribly unflattering lights ever and realize that you actually like how you look? It is a revelation beyond compare. An amazing moment, where all of society’s rules and regulations about body and image are thrown out the window and what remains is an incredible feeling of self-satisfaction. Thank you, Anthropologie. See you soon.

Photo via Anthropologie