Each night before I go to bed, I say the same prayer:

Dear, God/Buddha/Zeus,

Please let my hair look like Kim Kardashian’s, please don’t let anyone else on eBay bid on that really cute tank with the scalloped collar and please, please let me find the love of my life. Oh, and if you can make world peace happen, that would be great, but only if that doesn’t interfere with me getting that blouse, because I really need something like that in my closet.

Last Saturday evening was no different, except on Sunday when I woke up, I felt like it was the day that I had to take charge and make love finally happen. I bounced out of bed, threw on my robe, and vigorously straightened my hair while applying my daily war paint. I threw on a ridiculously chic outfit (black skinnies, snake-skin flats, a white silk tank and an oversized, straw fedora), and headed out towards Barnes and Noble. You always hear about people meeting their better halves in supermarkets, so I was feelin’ real good about a bookstore. Although, that might have been the morning Xanex/ late-evening Ambien talking.

I parked, and anxiously peeked in my compact before getting out of my car. Whew, I was really nervous and just didn’t know why…

I walked inside and took a deep breath. Please, let me be right about this day, I said to myself, as I wiped my sweaty palms on my pants. I headed towards the magazine stand and it happened. It was just like a scene out of a current Woody Allen movie – our eyes met and I grinned, as I floated to what I had been waiting for…

Which was…


I’ve been reading Vogue since I was old enough to understand that pretty/ruthlessly ambitious people rule the world (shout-out to the future me) and while Anna Wintour will always be my main lady, I’ve found that her close rival is Carine Roitfeld, ex-editor of Paris Vogue, has been quickly and sneakily pushing herself into my life – much as I imagined how Eddie Cibrian and his dimples felt after meeting LeAnn Rimes while still married to Housewive’s Brandi Glanville.

Anna to the left, Carine to the right
Photo via Pages Digital

There were several rumors that Carine was supposed to take over Anna’ job, but there was some falling out with Carine and Paris Vogue, resulting in her leaving the iconic magazine and starting her own – hence, the nascency of CR Fashion Book. No one really knows what happened and why it ended it like it did (…or I just got super bored googling it and gave up before I could find out). Whatever. All I know is that my heart is full and I owe it all to one lady. No, sorry Mama, I love you, but this isn’t about you today. Today, your baby girl has found love. You still won’t get those grandbabies anytime soon, but now I finally feel true happiness. I felt like this day wouldnt’ come fast enough, but now that it has arrived, I want to share it with you. Check out the two, yes two, covers below:

Putting Kate Upton on the first issue was risky, but I think it paid off well.

Carine is very much into the idea of new life right now, as her daughter Julia recently gave birth. This cover conveys that brilliantly.

I’m leaving for Vegas tomorrow, which means I have a little over three glorious hours in the air to pour over these pages. That also means four-days of photo opportunities for this blog, because puh-lease, you know I’m bringing the fierceness to L.V. Until next time my doves…


A friend of mine, M.J. recently opened up her very own home-goods boutique in Clifton, Texas. Today was the grand opening, and my other dear friend, J.M. (I promise I really do have friends and I’m not just reversing initials due to a lack of creativity) and I decided to head out and surprise her on the big day. After driving for about two hours, we reached Clifton and pulled up to her store, adorably named “Far Fetched.” M.J. is one of those girls that makes classic and trendy fashions look effortless. Since I do that as well, (modesty was never my color) I knew her store would be as fantastic as her sunglass collection (which, dammit, I still want those impossible to find Thierry Larsy shades). Like a philistine, I forgot to take a photo of the outside of the building, but luckily I snapped a pic of what greeted us when we walked inside:

Say “hello” to my new Texas matriarch on the left – J.M’s madre

Delicious smelling soaps

Lotions, sprays, oh my. I want them all!

The coolest bottler openers ever! I believe they are Japanese.

The store displays its contents in unique ways such as above.

If I could describe Far Fetched, I would say it’s similar to Anthropologie, minus the  commercial-ness. Her prices were amaaazing, and I got some great gifts for friends and family (and by “friends” I mean me, and by “family” I mean my living room). The store boasts of exotic soaps and lotions, hand-made quilts, jewelry that my MuMu would have added to her impressive collection and many other sui generis items.

Awww. Just us girls, hanging out with black bars across our eyes. Typical Saturday afternoon. (Side note – M.J. is to the far left, J.M. is in the middle. HA – I do have friends!)

After shopping, we decided to indulge in  local Clifton cuisine, and chose a little restaurant called “Somethin’ Brewin’.” I ordered the “Santana” which totally hit the spot.

Diet starts tomorrow?

So, as I am back home full and content, I bid you adieux and look forward to connecting with the next post. Fais de beaux rêves!

Isn’t it the best feeling in the world when you check you mail, and you see that your new Neiman Marcus/Bloomingdale’s/Sak’s catalog has arrived? Yah, I don’t know either because I only get crap from Alloy and Victoria’s Secret. Luckily, my neighbor was kind enough to give me the September 2012 Sak’s book that he had no use for, which led me to a lovely Sunday morning of placing post-it notes of items that I wish I had (dammit, when am I ever going to meet Claude?) Below are my reasons for wanting to work out and only eat miso soup for the next ten months:

Neon fur – Peter Pilotto (and the fur is from Finland so extra kudos there)


Oscar de la Renta. Flawless.

As a treat, I am introducing my “girl crush,” supermodel Coco Rocha who I didn’t even know was in here until I got to page 103! What a lovely bonus. If having cheekbones like that were a crime she would be number one on America’s Most Wanted. (I feel like I tried too hard with that last sentence – did I? I definitly did.)

Coco in St. John! She has the chicest blog – you can check it out here. Just don’t read it more than mine.

My grandmother, whom I fondly called “MuMu,” was incredibly fashionable, incredibly Finnish and overall was just, well, incredible. Unfortunately she passed before I could really appreciate the magnitude of her closet, but my mother tells me stories about her and her shopping antics that sound vaguely familiar to my own commercing. One of my favorites is my grandmothers’ love for Salvatore Ferragamo heels. Every time she bought a pair and was caught by my grandfather trying to sneak them in, he would gruffly ask her, “So, what did those cost me?” My grandmother, with the ultimate verve, would look him in the eyes and snap “They were only twenty-dollars!” Mind you, this went on for several years, but it amuses me to think of my grandfather getting the credit card bill, confused to why it was so high. For him, that was probably one of the greatest mysteries, like how our generations biggest unsolved puzzle is who January Jones’  baby daddy is. With MuMu’s appreciation of a well made shoe came her aesthetic admiration of jewelry. While I was home in Napa, my mother gave me a ring that belonged to her:

The ring is 14k and boasts of the most beautiful amethyst. The weight is lovely and I tell myself that I have to wear it every day so I can get used to my future engagement ring. After all, I hear cubic zirconia is quite heavy.

My parents have a phantasmagorical taste in vino, resulting in my first activity when I landed in California – wine tasting. We settled on Mumm, which is down the road from where they live, and decided on the sample trio which included the Brut Prestige, Blanc de Noirs and Cuvee M:

Sparkling wine being poured to father Lopez

I swear those aren’t all mine

Many daughters dream of the day when their mothers buy them their first bras or their fathers walk them down the aisle. I merely wanted to turn 21 and go to the magical places that made adults cheeks flushed and their eyes shiny. Consider this furlough a vagary come true.

I grew up in one of the most beautiful and expensive town’s in the United States, if not the entire world. Okay, probably just the U.S. When I moved to Texas, I tried the whole modest approach for a while when people asked where I grew up, until I decided I was much more comfortable bragging about my hometown than trying to down play it. Besides, humbleness is for boring and impecunious folk. Below are some view photos from mi casa in Napa Valley:

Pool looking out to Rudd vineyards

Parent’s balcony looking down

View from my parent’s work area

Saturday night I went out with some friends I haven’t seen in FOREVER, and as we talked it made my heart swell to hear the word “sommelier” used as casually in conversation as someone else might use “baby-photos” or “Burlington Coat Factory.” We went to this place in downtown St. Helena that used to be called Martini House but is now called Goose and Gander. Look at the adorable cocktail below (it reads “Sloe (i.e. Slow) Gin Fizz”):

I still don’t know why they spelled it “sloe” – is that normal?

While it was lovely to be back home, it was very, very nice to be back in Austin. I saw my good friend M.M.  randomly while I was randomly heading home and we did the ten-second catch-up while yelling at each other with our car windows down. While I will always love Napa, I feel like Austin has been rather good to me and feel like I will be here for a while, if not forever. However, the occasional trips back home do help keep my ego in check (and by that, I mean it inflates it), which is a part of me I will never let go of.

Waking up at 3:30 a.m. to catch a flight is never the best feeling. Waking up that early, driving to the airport in a monsoon of rain and encountering a line for the security longer than men that have “dated” Paris Hilton was HORRENDOUS. Plus, everyone in line was wearing polyester or Victoria Secret PINK sweatpants – basically Tim Gunn’s reoccurring nightmare. I killed some time by people watching. Fat, fat, fat, I muttered to myself, before realizing I had passed three mirrors and was looking at myself. I barely caught my plane and managed to find myself stuck between two men discussing Hitchens and shows they listen to on PBS while I discreetly tried to hide my People magazine and pretended to sleep. Then we landed, and seeing my mom and the familiarity of home came rushing back, making the world was right again.


Just another lovely day in the Valley

Fun fact: The smell of a California winery millionaire is slightly different than that of a Texas oil heir.

Almost home…

More to come very soon…

One of my favorite deceased socialites is Edie Sedgwick. If you don’t know who that is, I’ll pause for a couple of seconds while you delete my number from your cell, because we shouldnt be friends.

A picture says a thousand words.
Picture via Orbit-Mag

I’ll admit, I only became truly fascinated by her after watching Factory Girl, with the brilliant Sienna Miller, and became even more enamored/hypnotized by all of the fantastic jewelry she was sporting. After a search online, I came across a pair of chandelier flippery on Edie (see below) that were duplicated pretty well in the movie.

That year for my birthday, a friend commissioned the costume designer from Factory Girl, to make a pair for me. It was very “Rich Kids of Instagram” of her to do that and I am pleased to say I still love these earrings as much as I did when I first received them. What happened to that “good” friend you might ask? Well, (*chuckle*) for entertainment’s sake, let’s just say we are no longer close and that we don’t absolutely despise each other and that I maybe kicked her out of the apartment we were living in during college because she got a boyfriend that was homeless who possibly started living with us and we couldn’t communicate without fighting and that after kicking her out she may have turned off the electricity on me because it was in her name and there’s a crazy chance I had to pay the entire reinstatement fee all over again to get it turned back on even though I only had a month-and-a-half until graduation. Now that storytime is over, ch-ch-check out the pix below…

Anyone who knows me will you tell you my interest in fringe boarders on the maniacal. It’s the Angie to my Brad, the Toddlers to my Tiaras, or put in more facund terms, the Rachel to my Zoe. Below are two items that are currently making my toes curl:

So… who wants to buy this for me? After putting down my new apartment deposit (AHHHH, SO EXCITED!!!) I am the brokest I’ve been since, well, since last month. So if anyone has decided my dozen or so posts are worthy enough of finally getting some free swag, you feel free to send me something. I promise I won’t complain.

1) I think I’m going to start only posting every other day or so. And by “think,” I mean yes, that’s what I’m going to do. I’m picky about what I put on here and I’ll only post photos/text that I find to be amusing or fun to look at. (A.R. and L.C.S. – am I okay in ending that last sentence with a preposition?) I think this will be a good thing for us both – I lessen the chances of getting carpal tunnel and you get the thrill of a suspenseful wait..

2) As I previously stated in one of my photo captions, I am in the process of purchasing a new camera. By that, I mean I am going home for a visit next weekend, and will ask my parents for one of theirs. In the meantime, I hope you enjoy the grainy photos that I  have been taking. Any photos that you can see clearly are all thanks to my photographer and amiga, Lisa S.

3) Thank you for reading!

moustache – is it real or fake? I’ll never tell
feather throw – you’ll see more of this sooner than later…