When fashion meets the great outdoors...

Just four miles away from her Philly abode, a waterfall at Fairmount Park provides Fashion Industry Management Major Jordin Bert a moment of respite from the everyday churn of civilization.


Some of you loyal readers may know the sis. She’s part artistic genius, part social butterfly, and only part of a gas fill-up away. However, the Philadelphia fashionista is absolutely no part nature girl. So when she openly accepted to go to Fairmount Park I didn’t put much effort in dissuading her from being chic. Instead I learned that “a 100-percent cotton maxi is comfortable and good for all occasions,” including an arboreal amble.

So adorned in a pink dress and carrying a gold Marc Jacobs purse underarm, Jordin and I did something that we’ve never done in all 22 years of our shared siblingdom – we took a hike together! And literally 30 seconds after we got out of the car, two middle aged women complimented her on the dress and her figure. Not surprised, as big brother I’ve been there through the cat calls and the free deserts in Puerto Vallarta, Mexico, her composed put-offs to guys in Glen Ellyn, and the free courtside tickets offered to her from a Chicago Bull.

Pues, off we went on our hike through Fairmount Park.

There were shoes in trees…

There were ducks…

There were pebble checkerboards???

With my mom’s suggestion we stopped at the Valley Green Inn, a place straight out of a Hans Christian Andersen story, with its origins hailing from the late sixteen hundreds. Nestled in the woods, along a small babbling brook, the establishment attracted ceremonial party goers, bikers, joggers, equestrians and other eco-yahoos alike.

Serving as a refuge from deluge, my sister and I grabbed a couple of strawberry margaritas, and listened to the rain fall down around us. Wide-eyed over the lobster spring rolls and content with the basket of French fries, we chilled like the Swedish monarchy and took in some sights before heading onward.

Then came the awesome. During our great walk through Fairmount Park, en route to nowhere, we spotted a group of people swinging on a rope and falling into the brook.

After snapping a couple pictures of these adventure-wonks, Jordin most accurately noted that, “we probably looked like a couple of creepers,” and we should keep w

alking. So we did, but not before I got her to promise that we would return to that spot the next day to give it a whirl.

We also came to a spot with rocks naturally poised for river hopscotch. It brought me back to the last time I remember playing “Can’t Touch the Ground” in the basement of Drew Goltermann in the second grade.

Along the way, Jordin surprised me like crazy. She spent exorbitant amounts of time trying to catch a chipmunk on camera, chased after a butterfly, determined that she wants to make one of the nature photos her facebook profile, and declared “I’m glad that you’re here so that you can get me to do this stuff.”