1. Packing for travel is delicious FUN!


  2. Dressing The Pain Body








  4. kouret

    Vintage Paradise


  7. Vogue Italia…Black is beautiful

    Does anyone else just love that the digital Vogue Italia has a black style section??? So sexy!


  8. 1

    Fashion is a parade of desire.  I want this; need that.  One things gets you another; the second glance, the status, the guy.  With fashion week under way in NYC and, my ship somewhere else still on route to me, I have adopted the attitude of “1”.  

    I believe in the power of 1.  The one hand clap no. The one piece that resurrects all of the other pieces in your closet, yes!

    I received a beautiful clutch this Christmas from my b e l o v e d.  It gave me options for outfits that only a day before were on my mental clearance rack. 

    As in love, the one idea, piece or clever metaphor hidden under all the tinsel and confetti can make it all come together. Especially when your budget is on the cabbage soup diet.  Oh, the deprivation…

    This new philosophy brought Peace to my material lust.  I am no longer tormented by a sea of unattainable goodies.  

    This fashion week I will still place my oar in the water.  Only 1 oar though; I need the other hand to hold my clutch.


  9. A fashion love story…

    At the time I took the picture, my daughter Viva had just finished a rousing game of dress up. Her imagination was activated and, while looking out of the window, she seemed to be wearing a new pair of eyes as well as Mommy’s old clothes and wig.  She stood there gracefully; knowing she had been transformed…

    In a photo, that is why I love fashion.  It is the interactive art that fuels our personal creativity. On a daily basis we manifest our most lofty selves through the grand bell sleeve, or our whimsy in a colorful scarf. We adorn ourselves to become ourselves.  Our life phases represent themselves through the abandonment or adoption of new styles of dress.  Old identities revolve like the dry cleaners’ rack; with previous incarnations wrapped in the plastic of memory.  

    We look at pictures of ourselves from years ago and laugh nervously while our new love looks at us with that teasing, quizzical smile; ” I don’t know what possessed me”, you say, but you remember all too well the day you went to see Menudo and, Miguel Angel Cancel sang Clara just to you; or so you thought…  You wore that T-shirt every day for a year to bed and, on weekends in the house with your record player well, “no Mami it doesn’t need washing… 

    Even as an adult, I enjoy few things more than the dress up game. Designers such as Isabel Toledo create folds that bend our concept of what is possible when dressing the human form. These bridges of cloth and sequins transport us from the inside out; allowing us to merge our subjective truth to the us that is waiting. And, there is always a new self waiting… As a woman, my fashion evolutions are seldom random, sometimes questionable but, always intuitive indicators of my inner revolutions.  

    I don’t have too many of my old clothes for the same reason I don’t have my 10th grade history book; I learned those lessons.  They are now trunk treasures for my daughter on a rainy weekend afternoon.