I’m not one for Crocs, but when they come in a set of 2 and 2 of the feet are tiny and pink, well then, they’ve really earned the right be flaunted.
The online shopping has gotten a bit out of control, lately. I think it started last Fall, when I started to offset my holiday gift purchases with (highly deliberated, highly justified) investment-piece purchases for myself. Tit for tat. But it’s January now, and unfortunately the balance has tipped…these days, my purchases are, well, purely self-centered. After some serious number-crunching, I’ve decided that I need to draw the line. It’s going to be all about window-shopping now, and I can at least make it count by working with what I already have in the closet.
This spot launched over a year again but I’m ALWAYS ecstatic when it airs. I’m talking Continue Reading »
Monday-Friday mornings, NYC. Continue Reading »
I have a raging obsession with grapefruit. I cannot get enough of it. I peel it like an orange and end up with a mix of pith and sting under my nails from digging too hard. I order it in juice form in my cocktails, and then I drink it the next morning to quell my hangovers. Earlier this month, on my flight back from Vancouver, I watched Paula Deen bake a grapefruit cake on the tiny screen in front of me, and I made a mental note to Google the recipe as soon as we landed. Last week, I tried Emmi’s Pink Grapefruit yogurt for the first time, and simply could not believe that I’ve been missing out on this for what appears to be at least 5 years (I found a thread on the Chowhound discussion board about it, dated 2006). W.T.F. Where have I been?
I’ll admit that the idea of grapefruit and yogurt initially seemed…harsh. The thought of combining two such distinctively sour flavors made me salivate. Well, it turns out that’s what sugar is for. 27 grams of it, to be exact. The easy way out? Perhaps. I’m not sure I really care, though. What I do know is that right here in this little container, there is a magical mix of silky milk, tiny flecks of pink pulp that burst in your mouth, and an uncanny blend of tangy, sweet, tart, and just the tiniest whisper of bitter (to remind you that this is, after all, grapefruit). My probiotic intake is about to skyrocket.
Imaxtree via nymag.com
Anyone who knows me well knows that I live for silky button down blouses, the color gray, and anything drapey. In my version of Cinderella, Donna Karan would be my fairy godmother and I’d show up at Prince Charming’s ball wearing this. I’m sure my evil stepsisters would talk smack behind my back and say I looked like I was wearing a potato sack, but I wouldn’t give a shit. In fact, it probably wouldn’t be my scene, anyway. I’d just go for the free champagne, and to be that chick who wore pants to the ball and maybe didn’t even say hi to the Prince and probably flirted with the dudes in the string quartet instead.