I consistently get asked two things: “How often do you shop?” and “How big is your wardrobe?”
Answer: not very often and pretty small. I pride myself on being a very stringent editor, I blame it on OCD and living in tiny NYC apartments. I don’t keep anything I don’t wear for 4 months (with the exception of seasonal and outerwear), and I don’t buy anything that I can’t make two or more outfits with. So what stays? My skeletons.
Shout out to all the women who ROCK the “I just came from the gym” look.
No evidence of sweat, not a hair out of place, and flawlessly coordinated pieces. I on the other hand, even post Fabletics subscription, can’t seem to channel the effortlessly chic athletic look that Kate Hudson deems attainable.
When I was a little girl my mom and grandmother INSISTED on making my bedroom pastel colored.
Mint green, lilac, baby blue and lots of pink. Blame it on the early 90’s, blame it on my being the only girl, blame it on the water colored, art deco influenced back drop I grew up in. Whatever. I didn’t really dig it. I longed for bright cobalt, bold reds and graphic patterns in black and white. Living in New York for almost a decade definitely helped deter me from this color scheme, and fall in love with all things dark and edgy.