|Thrifted J Crew leather jacket; vintage thrifted Pendleton shirt; Gap legging jeans; Frye 'Heath' boots (eBay)|
Cereal is the world's most perfect food. Think about it. When you don't feel like cooking, cereal is there. When you want something sweet and crunchy, cereal satisfies your craving. And when you need a snack, cereal is ready to nibble straight from the box. A comforting beacon in a world full of complicated choices, a bowl of cereal will never let you down.
When I was a kid, cereal came in two options. There was the boring, tasteless, unsweetened variety that languished in the back of your pantry and needed to be doctored with a hearty dose of sugar and raisins and maybe even bananas to be palatable. This is where the Rice Crispies, Cheerios, Special K and Shredded Wheat fell. Then there was the sugary stuff. This was the packaged crack you begged your mom to buy, the kind with cartoon characters on the box and marshmallow stars and a toxic level of corn syrup and turned your milk an interesting shade of pink or blue. This was cereal so lethal it gave you instant diabetes and essentially turned you into a hyperactive brat.
I wasn't allowed to have those delicious bowls of chemical delight. No, I was stuck with Rice Crispies. I hated Rice Crispies, and I was insanely jealous of anyone my age who was allowed to eat the good stuff. I spent many a morning daydreaming about when I would finally be a parent myself, and thus allowed to eat whatever the hell I wanted for breakfast. I intended to stock my pantry with Coco Puffs and Captain Crunch and Trix and my mom wouldn't be able to do a damm thing about it. I would show her.
So what did I eat his morning, as I huddled in vintage Pendleton wool to chase away the winter chill? A big, hearty bowl of Rice Crispies. Because much like my outfit of oversized shirt, skinny jeans and boots, it's tough to beat the classics.