Fashion Fades; Style is Eternal


Wednesday, October 29, 2014

Rule #11; We All Just Want A Monkey.

Miu Miu

Waking up this morning, I reflected upon yesterday's post (10 Tricks to Waking Up Golden) and came up with a very crucial #11.

11. Revisit #1, you idiot. Stop after 2, unless it's celebratory. Seriously.

Last night pink came to play, and by pink, I mean by very favorite diluted blush hue on the color wheel that only Miu Miu could get right (picture above) in contrast with an oddly sad, dingy bluebird blue; rosé, lovely and crisp rosé wine.

Who drinks rosé in October? This betch does.

Oh, and please excuse my third person reference...I really try not to do that, as it is so incredibly tacky, especially in written form, but I'm still drunk and felt it was very much appropriate.

As the rosé I was drinking was kicking Dom's stars around the sky and I was shooting the sh*t (we're such a turbulent pair), a dear friend said something, completely unknowingly, that really stuck.

I was talking, no, whining, about how I want what I can't if that's not the oldest line in the Marilyn Monroe Book of Single White Girl Quotes, first edition.

To set the record straight, I wasn't doing it in an "Oh pity me and pass the wine" type of way, it was more of a matter of fact, "Mother was right, I really do want what I can't have" type of way. And yes, off the record but for your literary entertainment, I was talking about a boy, so shoot me.

My friend then said, and this is where it gets really interesting, dear reader:

"We all just want a monkey."

We all just want a monkey...I thought...what the f*ck does...oh wait, I totally and utterly get what that means right now. And so not in a sense that he (my friend, not God, although he would probably like to think he was God) meant it.

My friend was simply being witty and pretty damn practical, like he tends to be, by saying we all just want a monkey. You know, like the kind that dances around and throws its own sh*t at people. Super cute.

He's so right. We all just want a monkey.

A new novelty.

Whether that monkey is a new toy, a new boy, a new idea, a new creative outlet, whatever.

It doesn't have to be the prettiest monkey in the jungle, sometimes we want a new monkey who is a project or sometimes we just want a new monkey who shows a little interest.

Moral of the story: Find your new monkey.

Stop trying to teach your old monkey new tricks. Give that old monkey a comfy satin pillow to sit on and find your new monkey.

We all want one, don't be scared or hesitate to go out there and find yours. It doesn't mean you don't love your old monkeys, your old ideas, your past lovers, it just means you just want a new one that enchants you and inspires you and drives you to reach an entirely new level of being and purpose.

Find that new sparkling monkey that dances in your eyes.

Whatever in the world that new monkey might be.

I know, I just totally went Carrie Bradshaw sock drawer and french fries on you.

But, this really fucking makes sense to me.

No astrick intended.


Tuesday, October 28, 2014

10 Tricks to Waking Up Golden.

"My Love" - Route 94, Jess Glynne

Do you ever have one of those mornings where you wake up rested and with energy, not feeling like you need something that's more than coffee but less than cocaine? You sprawl out in your bed, toes tangling off the edge, and stretch in a way that makes you never want to share your bed with anyone else again. There's a strong beat blasting in your head (or out of your Bose speakers) and you are f*cking convinced that you're starring in an epic movie of your life.

Those mornings are golden, and there's no reason why they shouldn't happen every day.

Here are 10 Tricks to Waking Up Golden Every Morning:

1. Stop after 2, unless it's celebratory. There's no reason why you should be binging on Dom if you've had a bad day or worse, a bad date. You're doing Dom Perignon all wrong if you're tasting the stars out of pure spite. Stop being a lush and give yourself a two drink maximum. 

2. Neutrogena that sh*t off. Girls that go to bed with their make-up on positively baffle me. It's self-destructive behavior to your pores and to your Egyptian cotton bed sheets. If you don't have time to Clarisonic, at least take a make-up wipe to your face - it takes .2 seconds and you can totally do it in the dark.

3. Take your hair down. I totally get the messy bun religion, I worship with a top knot in between the temples too. However, smashing your head against a pillow and rolling your head like you're the Yeah Yeah Yeahs (Heads Will Roll - Yeah Yeah Yeahs) performing at Coachella is only going to give you split ends and bad breaks. Let your locks run free. Tangles are better than damaged casualties. 

4. Keep your phone far away. There's no need to leave your phone underneath your pillow like you're waiting for the iMessage Fairy to show up and leave you a fat stack of cash for the number of drunk texts received. The only text messages I receive after bedtime are texts from exes and texts from my dear insomniac mother who is reading my horoscope for the next day or googling Ebola outbreaks, all of which can wait until morning.

5. Turn your ceiling fan down a notch. I know, I love laying in bed with a sweatshirt on all huddled up in my duvet like I'm an Eskimo staring straight into a massive ice storm. However, this is super drying to your eyeballs. Avoid waking up the next morning like a dried up mummy on display at The Met by turning that rotating orb down a purr.

6. No binging on Netflix before bed. As much as I love watching a dramatic series years after it was relevant (cough cough, Grey's Anatomy, all 10 seasons last month, betch), for the sake of my beauty I had to ween myself off the Netflix nip. During my Californication phase I would seriously stay up all night wondering if Hank and Karen would have sex again. Um, duh. Watch a show or two of whatever series has you hooked, early enough before bed, and then separate yourself. Don't worry, you'll get back together, just like Carrie and Big did in SATC, no sense in losing precious sleep over it.

7. Have a cup of tea. I drink tea upon rising, throughout the day, and before bed. I fully believe that tea is the ultimate remedy; for more energy, for clarity of mind, for stuffy noses, for sore throats, for plumper lips...just kidding on that last one, but that would be badass. Teavana is like the holy grail of herbs. Sidenote, have you tried their new seasonal blends? S'mores, white chocolate peppermint, pumpkin spice and pure effing amazingness, gotta check it out. Anyway, point being, relax with a cup of tea before bed, get your body and mind ready for sleep.

8. Recognize something(s) you're grateful for. Whether it's the fact that you're getting killer triceps from all those chaturangas you've been doing in yoga, your favorite singer moved on in the "knock out rounds" of The Voice, you ate super healthy all day long and didn't blow it by eating the entire pack of vegan Newman-O's creepin' in your cupboard, or something more meaningful, of course. End your day with gratitude.

9. Think about something(s) you're looking forward to in the morning. Maybe it's the hot tattooed barista who makes your skinny almond milk latte just right, a caramelized half a grapefruit you've perfected, or a really warm vintage Chloé sweater you can finally wear now that it feels like fall outside. It's the little things, think of them, be excited to wake up for them.

10. Never f*cking go to bed with socks on your feet. Ever.

Monday, October 27, 2014

Sexy Smoothie Talk Series; Pumpkin Me.

Pumpkin Flax Smoothie

Let me preface this post by saying: I am not a food blogger.


1. Contrary to popular belief, I can cook like a f*cking champ. But with that being said, my favorite thing to make is still a reservation.

2. I hate photographing food. Food is the most un-photogenic betch in the biz. It takes serious lens skill and knowledge of angles to get the right shot.

3. Nutrition? Le snooze. I'd rather cancel a reservation and photograph food than talk about macros.


I made such a badass smoothie yesterday morning after yoga, I couldn't not share with you.

We already discussed my jealous exes and fan-freaking-tastic smoothie blending talents in Sexy Smoothie Talk Series; Superfood Me., so here's a little continuation of the so called "series."

On the topic of protesting 500 calorie plus smoothies, I have another ewwy gooey pumpkin guts middle to pick with pumpkin spice and everything not so nice calorie wise.

Why is it okay that just because the drink or treat is "pumpkin spice" it can be a thousand calories? It's absolutely ridiculous because pumpkin is in fact, low in calories, superficially speaking. Pumpkin spice, in no way, shape or fattening festive form, needs to be a calorie bomb. Screw Starbucks for throwing in fat-filled white chocolate into their PSL's. Don't conform.

Blend this sexy beast up...

Pumpkin Flax Smoothie


3/4 cup unsweetened almond milk
1/3 cup pure pumpkin purée
1/2 banana
1 tablespoon raw honey
1 tablespoon ground flaxseed (plus a sprinkle on top if you're instagramming)
1 teaspoon pumpkin pie spice*

*if you don't have pumpkin pie spice on hand, DIY by mixing equal parts ground ginger, ground cloves, ground nutmeg and ground cinnamon spices (1/4 teaspoon each, but I usually go heavier in the cinnamon than the ginger).


Blend it up and throw it back.


This smoothie makes enough for one skinny betch.

Monday, October 13, 2014

Hyde: How Yoga Defines Experience.

Most of us pride ourselves on eating organically and doing our best to stay away from harmful pesticides, pollutants, and processed pests. We are well aware (or at least, slightly informed) of the very un-cool effects these toxic P-words have on our bodies and on our earth. Contaminated water, harmful air to our lungs, hair on our chests, man-boobs, third-eyes all around - in a very not so yogi sense - terrifying!

So, we hit up our neighborhood's farmers market on the regular, sub-in organic raw nut milks when ordering our morning lattes, and use natural cleaning products generously around the house.

Sometimes however, we forget that what we put on the outside of our body is just as important as what we put in it. Why bother foregoing deliciously modified and artificially sweetened candy if you're just going to drape yourself in unsustainably manufactured cotton processed with chemicals? 

Priorities, dear reader, priorities.

This is especially important to consider if you're sweating and breathing more than the typical stationary human being. Such as, you're going for a run along the beach or down dogging it in a hot yoga class. 

For the sake of this one-sided conversation, let's say for instance, you're doing the latter. You're sweating and twisting and detoxifying and you just want to get your hot and sweaty chaturanga game on in a healthy, natural fashion.

Strip yourself from those toxic and artificially altered yoga pants right now.

I've found yoga clothes as organic and as vibrant as your custom juice blend from Whole Foods...take a sip from Hydehow yoga defines experience.

Hyde yoga apparel was created fifteen years ago with a commitment to providing versatile clothing of a high organic quality, affordable pieces that are designed with the thoughtful yoga practice in mind, and a true dedication to a sustainable living.

Quick little story from Hyde on why they chose organic here: Why Organic?

I love Hyde and how their clothes honor the body, respecting it by offering only products of the purest form. Not to mention, Hyde offers some pretty incredible colors if having the most colorful yoga pants in the room is a thing for you...I know it is for me.

Here's what's organically juicing from Hyde now...

Tuesday, October 7, 2014

5 Boyfriends I, As A Vegan, Could Do Without.

Yesterday, my mom, sister and I were eating lunch at Nordies (so 1996 of us, I know, we love it) and I think I found my future dinner table partner for life. A table runner named Andy. He was adorable and wore thick framed glasses and totally understood why I didn't want a sour cream drizzle and cheddar cheese garnish on my vegan black bean soup.

He topped off my black coffee and didn't ask if I wanted any cream, and at the end of our meal he brought a tray with two chocolate mint sticks and a mini box of organic raisins for me, so I wouldn't feel left out if I "wanted a little something sweet." I'm pretty sure my resting b*tch face was blushing.

It was love, and it took me a hell of a long time to find it.

Being vegan is the ultimate c*ckblock in the dating world.

Seriously, you're better off saying you have the herp than spreading the word that you don't eat the chewy meats and cheeses.

I've had so many boyfriends that have totally sucked at accepting the fact that I choose to eat vegan. I literally could write an epic novel devoted to each and every one of them. Sure, it wasn't their total hypocritical ignorance to kale and quinoa that persuaded me to giving them the ax, but it certainly was straw that broke the poor herbivore's back.

And let me preface this with the fact that I am the most unobtrusive vegan to walk the planet. I'll totally eat a bite of your Persian mother's carnivorous cooking, I genuinely love your head to toe leather look, and I'm so down with really sugary frosting off grocery store bought birthday long as we're being celebratory, it's a bunch of artificial sh*t anyway.

But, some of you really pissed me off...

1. There was Ryan. Ryan was a people pleaser.

He would ask me out days in advance and spend hours Yelping the crunchiest vegan restaurants in the city. He would only take me out to restaurants that had hemp décor and served raw macrobiotic bowls with unheard of organic ingredients. I would tell Ryan over and over again that we could go to normal places, places where I could actually wear my leather Givenchy boots to without getting PETA prosecuted, order a salad with three simple ingredients, and drink half my weight in wine, but he wouldn't hear of it. After two months of dining out in granola hubs that smelled like feet (I'm sure it was the tahini) and failing to get drunk off of liters of kombucha because none of the veggie dens had an actual liquor license, I ended things with Ryan.

May he R.I.P.

2. Then there was Andrew. Andrew was a full of sh*t human being.

We would go out to really amazing restaurants and every time he opened up a menu he would praise himself on how great of a vegan he was 90% of the time and that he "hadn't eaten red meat in years." He said that I made him a healthy human being. I would tell him supportively, "babe, I'm so proud of you," as I rolled my eyes and downed my gin in preparation for what I knew was coming next. Andrew would make a huge fuss over there being no vegan options at Mastro's, spend ten minutes trying to create something elaborate while lecturing the poor waitress at her inability to write fast enough, and then he would order a steak. With the brown butter glaze. When it came time for the plates to be cleared, Andrew would literally hold up his hand like a total prick and say, "not finished."  He would then take his finger, drag it across the plate, and lick off the last of the butter that had collected on his plate. Andrew was under 30, super hot and was the CEO of not one, but a handful of Forture 500 corporations and I wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt so badly and pretend he was just mentally ill, but I couldn't hang.

May he R.I.P.

3. Then, there was Bill. Bill was too lazy to google what being vegan was.

Every time we would go out he would want to share these retarded animal-based dishes. Cheese boards, seafood platters, pulled pork sliders, you name it. Bill was hilarious and a riot to hang out with, so I was always super agreeable and accommodating, tactfully dodging around the weird things he would want to get and drinking very heavily. I told him time and time again that I was in fact a vegan, but that he could get whatever he wanted. Knock your carnivorous socks off, Bill. At Taco Tuesday he would go, "hm, you're vegan, what to get, what to about we start off with the queso dip!" or one time at brunch, "this place has the best eggs benedict! I know you're vegan, so you can order it with poached salmon instead of canadian bacon!" - like wtf, Bill. One morning he made me scrambled eggs and chicken sausage. I drank my black coffee standing up and left.

May he R.I.P.

4. Then, there was Kevin. Kevin wanted a project.

Sure, I was hard to get and a mystery in the beginning, I could tell off the bat that Kevin loved a challenge. But, what really hooked Kevin was the fact that I didn't eat animal products and he believed that he was the one person set out on this earth to change me. What silly Kevin didn't know, is that all he needed to do is slip a Maple Bacon Bar by Chuao in front of me with a bottle of champagne, and my vegan roots would crumble to the ground right then and there. I have my weak moments, shoot me. Anyway, every time we went out, Kevin would order a delicious looking burger or creamy lobster mac and cheese and prompt me by saying, with one eyebrow raised, "come on honey, one bite." Barf. Everyone knows a vegan is like a cat. The vegan will come to you, you do not come to it. One evening, Kevin came after me saying "just one bite, you know you want to." I clawed him.

May he R.I.P.

5. Then, there was John. John was very philosophical.

In the beginning, John was way too into learning about being vegan. He wanted to read my books, he wanted to watch Netflix documentaries with me, he wanted to pick my garden of a brain to a barren dirt patch for information about being vegan. I thought it was sweet at first, he was so oddly interested, but it didn't freaking end. The "well, what do you eat?" and "why are you vegan?" questions came up during each meal and every other pre-yoga snack. A quick little FYI to those who may not be aware: We hate explaining to people why we're vegan, just as much as you hate hearing it, if not more. That being said, I dumped John with no explanation.

May he R.I.P.

*All names have been changed in order to protect the ex-boyfriends who deserve a smelly soy cheese slapping and overcooked tofurkey beating. Lastly, if you are a boy and are entertaining the idea of a vegan girlfriend, a word of advice: just let her freaking be, she will survive.

Monday, October 6, 2014

Indian Summer Forecast; Beso de Sal.

A la chalaca, Morena, La bikini, Colorada, Leche de tigre, Tres Bahías, Catita, yes please.

I'm ordering off of an indulgent Peruvian menu, and no, while a super-hot mix of colors and flavors is present, nothing is edible...for the mouth, at least.

Beso de Sal is a sexy little swimwear line designed and directed by the exotically creative Maria Jose. Her designs are produced in rarity, offering the highest quality and upmost exclusivity. Inspired by the rich cultures found throughout Peru, Maria Jose, with the help of her talented in-house team, create uniquely exotic swimwear pieces that flatter the silhouette and offer some serious Peruvian bikini candy.

Check out these designs...

Wednesday, October 1, 2014

Hipster Donut Hubs; Cool Places To Get Donuts Even Before Instagram Fame.

I don't know about you, but I think donuts are kind of ridiculously amazing.

When my sisters and I were really little, every Sunday morning my Dad would bring home a great big box of donuts for us. We would watch cartoons with crumbs, sprinkles and pink frosting all over our faces. Actually, I'm just speaking for myself. Laura would be face first in a chocolate bar, and Lindsay would have licked all of the maple frosting off of not just hers, but all of the other maple donuts in the box. We were such charming children.

So, today, in celebration of my Dad's 60th birthday, we decided to blindfold him and take him to Peterson's Donut Corner, the place where my sisters and my love for donuts all began. We got a box of our signature donuts (the box included a pink frosting donut with rainbow sprinkles, a giant maple buttermilk that needed two hands to hold, two fresh out of the oven twists, and a glazed cinnamon roll like you've never seen before) and sat down on the picnic style benches on the corner of the shop to eat. 

While we were intently inducing sugar to the bloodstream, I looked up and realized Peterson's was poppin' - there were literally never less than 8 people in line. Boxes were flying out the shop left and right. This was a genuine hot spot for America's most favorite treat.

I got to thinking about how long this donut shop had been cool...and it had been cool long before Instagram was even a thing. I mean, I had been going here before I even had a cell phone. I suppose you could call Peterson's somewhat of a hipster among the donut world.

Now, we have vegan doughnuts and innovative siracha-spiced powdered sugar, pork rind "fusion" doughnuts, and everything in between. Don't get me wrong, Portland's Voodoo Doughnut and The Donut Pub in Manhattan's Chelsea are literally unbeatable. However, there are some absolutely amazing hole in the walls that have kept their game at a top notch level before the social media craze and deserve some serious recognition. 

Check out these hipsters of the donut world, who were cool even before the donut comeback...

Location: Cardiff by the Sea
Recognition: Blueberry Buttermilk

Location: Chicago
Recognition: Apple Fritter

Location: Honolulu
Recognition: Malasadas

Location: Los Angeles
Recognition: Sugar Raised

Location: San Francisco
Recognition: Maple Bacon Apple

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