In between incessant and mindless marathons of Project Runway ("Auf Wiedersehen, designers"--& my life), Carrie Diaries, and my first encounter traversing through the fashionably cutthroat realm of illustrious Gossip Girl series (*cue gasp*), multiple splices of sartorial heaven and inspiration have struck.
Sorry Kate Moss, but nothing tastes as good as
skinny being inspired feels.
In light of recent patriotic events, you could say my brain was cerebrally celebrating fireworks of fashion epiphanies. Not to mention a profusion of nameless documentaries headlining Halston and Isaac Mizrahi (note to readers: no shame if you head-scratchingly question who Halston is).
Somewhere along the lines of binge-watching nostalgic & oh-so stereotypically glamorized teen Carrie shine and Heidi Klum unhinge her paralyzing power as executive producer, I unexpectedly nabbed two jobs at Nordstrom & Anthropologie! (hello, discounts). There's no doubt my credit card will bask in a much too generous overdose of card swipes left and right (reminder: exercise all your strength in repelling its deadly sister: the credit card).
As my sun-soaked SoCal summer days are crumbling to an apocalyptic deadline (say hello to bipolar Manhattan climates and urine-reeking Subway escapades), a blissful slice of Cabo heaven has mercifully regenerated my happiness. So what to do with said newfound happiness?
Extracting the lavish bank of fashion revelations from my never-ending spree of Netflix marathons, I was on the hunt for some newly-minted accoutrements to be personally welcomed into my bare-boned closet. Ditching my "What Not to Wear"-worthy uniform of man-repelling shorts and oversized high-school volleyball tees while glaring zombie-like at my Netflix screen is a no-brainer. After all, curing my hangover of "Worst Dressed" outfits that seamlessly qualify on Fashion Police is a light & breezy feat--just like my Malibu-beach perfect finds.
Also, in case you haven't noticed, the dog days of summer are here! Evidence in point? Lemonade stands sprinkled around my bubble of a suburb and my subconscious tendency to habitually blast the AC in my sauna of a car. Alas is my Cabo San Lucas ootd/wishlist! (note to self: prepare for some generous spritzes of Beach Babe coconut spray for my sun-deprived locks and obligatory Vitamin-D craving tans. Time to play "Homecoming" to rewelcome my long-lost friend: my California tan. Let's just pray to the Cabo gods that I don't leave with blush-worthy lobster sunburns.
Any adventurous plans for the summer?