Posts Under: My Looks

My Looks

My Own Little Walk Through This World

This post was compensated by QVC, in collaboration with International Women’s Day. 

It’s International Women’s Day, and so - in celebration of women entrepreneurs - I thought I’d tell you a little story. It starts when I was in kindergarten, and my friend Matt gave me a hand-me-down copy of Dr. Seuss’ My Book About Me. Matt had already filled it out, and I’m pretty sure that his sister Ali and their cousin Marshall had put their own stamps on various pages, too, but I apparently didn’t care; I grabbed a big, black marker and just drew over whatever everyone else had written.

When I flip back through this book - as I do often, especially now that my kids have their own My Book About Me’s - I always get stuck on the “What Do You Want To Be When You Grow Up” page. Matt’s green marker told me that he dreamed of being a miner, or maybe an astronaut. Perhaps a soldier. Ali’s purple crayon x-ed out “swordfighter,” then looped around “actress.”

My Looks

Call Me Rose

When I was a teenager, thrift stores (specifically the Salvation Army on West 46th Street) were where I bought virtually all of my clothing. I went through a phase where my school wardrobe alternated between vintage ball gowns (really) and pajamas (like, actual old man pajamas). Which was convenient, because vintage ball gowns and old man pajamas are two things that thrift stores do really, really well.

While I still haunt Goodwills and charity shops for furniture, I don't really go thrift-store shopping for clothing all that often, because it takes wayyyyy too much focus and time, and focus and time are not things my children like me to have. When I was in LA the other week, though, I took myself on a little date - first to Body Electric Tattoo for some new piercings, then to the Village Idiot for rosé and cheese, and finally to Wasteland. You know, just to see.


I Invented A Thing

When I was in New York a couple of weeks ago I discovered my old black-and-white Ann Taylor swing coat sitting in my bedroom closet, and decided I wanted to wear to that day's meetings. But it was 30 degrees outside and the jacket had elbow-length sleeves, so I decided that I should probably wear it with long leather gloves so as to prevent my wrists from falling off. But then I realized that neither my mother nor I own a pair of long leather gloves.