I was a casual watcher of the 2026 World Cup. Before that, the last time I spent any significant amount of time thinking about football was probably 2010. My husband and I were on our honeymoon in Mexico that July, and I still vividly remember us watching some of the televised WC games at our resort, with a mixed audience of people from all over the world. I don’t think we watched the final there – though, funnily enough, Spain won that year too.

This time around, I did get sucked into the online popular discourse around the World Cup, especially towards the end. The Haaland/Bellingham cuts were fun and cute, and once I watched a few, my IG algorithm decided that I needed to be served football content 24/7. Eventually, I ended up going down several rabbit holes, the most enjoyable of which was revisiting the highlights of 2000s football (my fave era, along with the 90s). But, as promised, this is not a post about my old football crushes or other nostalgic memories from my football fan days. This World Cup and the discourse it generated (or indirectly pushed to my attention via social media) gave me the opportunity to reflect on some broader ideas.

Because I’ve not been plugged into the football world for 16+ years, I hadn’t realized that Cristiano Ronaldo and Lionel Messi – players I remember from back in the day – are (a) still playing, and (b) still dominating a lot of the discourse. The GOAT debate is so silly to me; “the best” is a fundamentally subjective determination, so I fail to see the point of trying to achieve universal consensus. But I saw a clip of an interview with a Mexican player who was asked about it, and his response gave me a lot of food for thought.

To paraphrase, he basically said that Messi and Ronaldo represent two stories, and your answer to the question “who’s the GOAT” will depend on which story resonates the most with you. Messi represents the story of a natural prodigy, someone born with a generational talent that automatically gives him an edge over his peers. That’s not to say that Messi didn’t have to work hard, or that he would have achieved the same accomplishments without effort and dedication. On the other side, Ronaldo represents the story of success through discipline, determination, and drive. Again, that’s not to say that Ronaldo wasn’t naturally talented to begin with – only that what set him apart from other great players, in the end, was his commitment to discipline and single-minded focus. And his confidence in his own ability to succeed thanks to that discipline and focus.

There is something to admire in both stories, and which one resonates more is, ultimately, a very personal thing. My first “a ha” moment was realizing that the Ronaldo story is what speaks to me the most. And that’s because discipline and commitment is what has helped me achieve my own ambitions in life and, as such, it is what I value the most. [Of course, I am not comparing myself to football superstars, lol!]

My second “a ha” moment was realizing that this subtext is (at least in part) why Ronaldo is such a polarizing figure. He is often called arrogant for what, to me, seems to be the fact that he is not shy about talking about his success and the source of that success (his belief in himself and his work ethic). But is that arrogance? I don’t think anyone disputes the underlying truth of Ronaldo’s statements; his achievements are incontestable, as is his dedication and work ethic. Yet, him openly acknowledging those things rubs some people the wrong way.

I have sympathy for Ronaldo because, in my experience, society is slow to recognize or applause discipline. Natural talent is sexier, more awe-inspiring — perhaps easier to accept too, because it looks so much like random chance and luck. Discipline, on the other hand, can feel like something anyone can master. As such, it’s easier to discount and overlook. At the same time, it can provoke more complicated feelings, including resentment. In reality, discipline is bloody hard — and watching someone make it look easy can be triggering, for lack of a better word. So, I get why Ronaldo going on about his amazing discipline can grate on people’s nerves. On the flip side, I can also understand being frustrated with a lack of recognition at the difficulty of maintaining an insane level of disciplines for decades straight. If no one else is talking about it, you start talking about it.

Is that arrogance? I’ll let you decide for yourself. [No sarcasm intended, btw.]

Now, personally, I appreciate someone like Ronaldo talking about these things. Because it’s an example to young people as to the life-changing value of self-confidence backed by discipline. Confidence alone doesn’t get results. But to persevere and maintain strict discipline – year in, year out, no matter the setbacks along the way – you need to believe in yourself. No one will ever believe in you more than you can. That belief is what carries a person through the heartbreak of disappointed hopes. And even the greatest of all time, in whatever field, will experience that heartbreak at some point.

To return to the World Cup now … I had another ‘a ha’ moment that ties into both the above conversation and the final game. And that was the realization that, for me, greatness comes with responsibility. The more talent, success, money, or fame you have, the greater the responsibility to be gracious and generous in your interactions with others. Not that I am here to advocate for the feudal system or anything, but there is something to be said for the concept of “noblesse oblige.” If you are one of life’s favourites, there should never be a situation where, if someone goes low with you, you don’t still go high. Going high when someone goes low is an acknowledgment of (existing) superior privilege.

[And, no, I don’t believe that this idea – always go high when others go low – invariably applies. *cough* modern politics *cough*.]

Watching Messi’s performance in the World Cup final, especially his attempt to have Cucurella sent off with a red card for touching his mouth for a split second (which, frankly, looked like he was blowing a kiss), dropped Messi a few notches in my estimation. For Messi – an undisputed legend, GOAT contender, etc. – to pull a move like that on a player nowhere near his level was the antithesis of grace. I’ve seen some people excuse Messi’s behaviour on the basis that this was a high-pressure, difficult game, where tensions were running high. I don’t buy that excuse. As far as I’m concerned, how someone acts under pressure tells you more about their character than how they act when things are going their way. Pressure reveals the weaknesses that already exist, rather than creating them.

Nobody’s perfect, of course; in stressful situations, I’ve done things that didn’t reflect the standards I set for myself. So, I’m not going to say that Messi is a terrible person or anything like that. But his performance at this game did knock some of the shine off his reputation, at least for me. [It also seems worth pointing out that, to date, he has not expressed any regret for the Cucurella thing, which suggests that, with the benefit of his own hindsight as well as the public reception of the incident, he stands by his actions.]

These were all good learning/teaching moments that I was able to share with my kids, and get a conversation going, and also to use for self-reflection. Especially the part about grace (under pressure or otherwise). The older I get, and the more fortunate/privileged my circumstances become, the more important it feels for me to live up to certain standards in my interactions with others, especially those who are less privileged.

Other than my son’s birthday on Monday (I got my days confused last week, lol!), the big thing this week was the World Cup aftermath. I watched the final game on Sunday and screamed my lungs out when Ferran Torres scored the winning goal. It feels so rare and so satisfying when the right team comes out ahead, and karma is fulfilled. I was a mostly casual watcher of the World Cup, and I don’t buy into nationalist tribalism as a general rule, so I had no particular favourite teams going in. Even into the final. I hadn’t watched Argentina’s previous games in the tournament, and while I had a sense that the team was disliked, I didn’t have a ton of context as to why.

Well.

I soon saw for myself.

The behaviour of that team in the final, on and off the pitch, was an absolute disgrace from a sportsmanship perspective (never mind the actual football played). The constant fouling, attempted ref manipulations, the post-game violence … blergh. Spain was a class act, and the better team technically.

Because I ended up getting sucked into the spirit of the World Cup with the last few games especially (England-France was a wild, fun ride!), my IG algorithm now thinks I’m a football fan, LOL! Plot twist: I used to be! I grew up in Romania, after all, and spent a few years in England so this shouldn’t be a complete surprise. So, I’ve been drawn into a nostalgic spiral, watching cuts of big football moments from the 2000s – the last decade whose players I still remember (some of them very fondly) — and enjoying the memories that are resurfacing.

There was one particular meme making the rounds just before the final that unlocked a core memory for me: people posting that they became a fan of Spain because, at 13, they fell in love with Fernando Torres, aka El Nino. I was quite a bit older than that but I, too, had a massive crush on him in the mid-2000s, which I had forgotten about until now. It brought back that whole era for me so vividly.

[Sidenote: El Nino is still pretty dishy even today. As is Sergio Ramos ;)]

I think I’m going to write a whole post about some reflections inspired by the World Cup – don’t worry, it won’t be about my fave cute Spanish players, or the Haaland-Bellingham bromance, although maybe it should be – so I’ll leave it here for now. And instead bore you a little bit more by talking about my other current obsession: my new book.

I was not supposed to start a new book at this time, but life happens.

A couple of weeks ago, I got this fantastic idea for a follow-up to the book I just wrote back in May (which is still pretty much in raw draft form at this point). Committing to a series before you’re even sure that the first book is any good is … not a great idea. But this new story has got me by the throat. I started writing an outline – it involves a lot of world-building and I was trying to feel my way around it – and the next thing I knew, I was 4 chapters deep into a first draft. Oops!

For now, I’ll just say this: think The Name of the Rose meets Interview with the Vampire. A murder mystery set in a convent on an island, where all the nuns are vampires. Vampire nuns! And a protagonist who has a special gift for talking to supernatural creatures, and a fallen angel for a sidekick/bodyguard.

I am so pumped!

Have a great weekend!

Three Thrift Finds

This vintage Gap suede mini skirt was on the pricey side, but too good to pass up. The chocolate brown colour is to die for, and the fit is incredible. It’s the perfect length for my proportions, too. I ended up paying $25 with a coupon. For 2026 thrift prices, that’s a pretty good deal. The current State of Thrift is sorry, indeed.

After thrifting my dream pattern (the Amish Buterprint in turquoise) a couple of years ago, I’ve been on a Pyrex no-buy — mostly because I don’t have room to store more. But! I saw this pair of Woodland Cinderella bowls and, well, the heart wants what it wants. The brown colour looks great with my turquoise pieces as well as the mustard yellow ones (Butterfly Gold pattern). I had another coupon, so the pair ended up being $40. Again: pricey for thrift, but cheaper than Etsy and other resale sites. I made some room so it can sit next to its sisters.

This Skagen watch wasn’t in the showcase and only $10, which felt like a steal. It needs a battery, but so do all of my watches, haha! I wear them for looks, not functionality. I like how delicate this design is, and love the rose gold mesh band. The amber mother-of-pearl dial is stunning.

Three Books to Read

It has been a long time since I’ve read much Romanian fiction, but I grew up with it and I still have a huge spot for some of the turn of the 20th century authors, like Caragiale, Cezar Petrescu, and G. Calinescu. But I had never read anything by Hortensia Papadat Bengescu, and wasn’t really familiar with her work until I came across some Reels from Romanian Bookstragrammers. They made me realize that I was missing out, so now I’m on a missing to track down her books. I found Bach Concert in English translation, and am very excited to read it. It’s supposed to be one of her best novels. I expect the vibe to be a little E.M. Forster-ish … to give you a general idea of the setting and themes.

I have read Marvyn Peake’s Gormenghast before (and was obsessed with the TV mini series adaptation), but it has been decades and recently I got the itch to re-read it. I’m saving this for my lake vacation, so I can immerse myself in the world of Titus Groan and savor the beautiful prose.

I started Gnomon a few weeks back and quickly decided that I needed to put it aside for my vacation as well. I’m enjoying the writing and the premise is very intriguing and hook-y. It’s a murder mystery set in a dystopian surveillance state where the government has access to every thought in your brain. Looking forward to picking it up again soon.

Three Perfumes

Sun, Moon & Stars is one of my go-to summer fragrances. I thrifted the bottle a while back, but I only started wearing it again this year when the weather warmed up. To me, it smells like the 90s, period. It’s a powdery floral — but it’s not soft powder. There’s an edge to it that modern floral fragrances don’t have. It feels almost crisp. In my mind, it comes from the carnation and narcissus in the middle notes.

Another one of my fave summer fragrances: Britney Spears’ Jungle Fantasy. Ignore the atrocious bottle. The juice smells fresh and fruity and a touch aquatic. It’s a pretty good dupe for D&G L’Imperatrice (which I also have), for a fraction of the price. It’s supposed to be a watermelon-forward fragrance but, honestly, I don’t get much of that when I smell it. To me, it’s a juicier, non-lemony version of D&G Light Blue.

I finally got my hands on Guerlain’s classic Insolence — and I adore it. It smells like violet candies. If you love violet, and don’t mind sweet perfumes, you have to try it. Its sweetness is not gourmand at all; even less so that Lolita Lempicka, which is the most similar fragrance to it that I have in my collection. Insolence has more violet and no anise. It’s too heady for daytime wear in the summer, but I love doing a couple of spritzes on my wrists before bed. It mellows out beautifully overnight and I wake up to a soft, powdery skin scent that’s still quite delicious.