Dear Ether,

I’ve never been a fan of seeing a dog in a more expensive coat than I own.  I’ve never thought it was cute watching a maltipoo trot down the street wearing a ballerina outfit with a nicer manicure than I could afford.  Oh god, and the LV carrying cases that these little animals get schlepped around in!  I can’t believe the waste of such fine Italian leather.  And here’s the catch—I’m a dog lover.  And maybe BECAUSE I’m a dog lover, I really see this as a travesty because I know if these dogs could see what they looked like (well, comprehend it) they would be humiliated.  I know “dog parents” mean well.  I really do. But when you’ve seen a chihuahua in a stroller and a poodle with braces like I have—you just can’t help feeling somewhat jaded by the whole thing.

I got an E-mail from Ralph Lauren announcing their Fall sale.  Curious, as I always am for a bargain, I clicked on the link to peruse.  Out of the corner of my eye I saw a poor creature dressed in a fucking rugby shirt and another one in a puffer jacket—-with a hood.  WHAT!  I had to see what else Mr. Lauren had on offer. Loads.  Alligator collars for $500.  Shearling jackets.  Oh, you could even snag for your loved one a little Ralph Lauren sweater with the Polo insignia crocheted into the back in bright orange–very understated.

I know there are women who live on Park Avenue who never had children and this feeds their fancy.  Or, women who DO have children and want the dog to blend right into the family.  There are also chavs who love their labels and MAN this is a great way to make their little one look as “pucka’” as they do.  So, I’ve decided to allow you to make the decision for yourself.  To maybe prove me wrong.  Here are the photos from the site.  Tell me what you think?

Me?  Well, I’m sure the title of this entry tells all.  But if you think the kit is Bow-WOWZA and I am nuts to think it is WOOF….then lemme know.  Hey, every dog has its day……of reckoning.

Dedicatedly yours,

—One of 365

Taking life one step at a time? Or, like the ebb and the flow, eventually the waves have to end up crashing somewhere, right?

Dear Ether,

I have so much I want to say to you.  So much.  I feel like I’m always such a downer.  

I look at other blogs and they are so cheerful and full of hope and happiness.  I try to be like that.  Fun.  Witty.  Chic.  But some nights like tonight, my black cloud comes out.  That’s the breaks with a diary blog where I post daily.

I’m really lonely.  I’m really scared.  And no matter what advice anyone gives me I seem resilient to ever let it penetrate and work to ease my pain.

I have a feature due on Friday.  All I want to do is duvet dive.  

I dream of what I could have been had I felt better about myself when I was younger.  I wonder what my life would be like now if I had left England and English gent behind?  I was only supposed to be there a semester abroad–not 9 years.  Why did I have to be greedy?  Why couldn’t I have had my lovely moment and left it beautiful?

I’m sorry Ethers, but I feel rather light-headed and my stomach is a bit sick.  I just wanted to write something.  Be vital.  

Hey.  Ebb and flow.  Tomorrow could be a sassy post about fashion or another dreary entry about life.  I can’t make you any promises.  I write how I feel on the day or in the moment.  Right now, I don’t feel so good.  

It’s Sunday night at 8:24pm in Los Angeles.  My room is dim.  I’m wearing a hoodie with strawberries on it from Primp, no-name drawstring pajama bottoms in charcoal gray, I’m barefoot, my hair is messy but tied back and in my ears are vintage emerald and diamond studs.  Thought that’d make me seem more human.

Now it is 8:27.

I’m going to go to sleep.  My mind is too busy to concentrate on reading.  

Was this a pointless post?

Why the fuck do I feel so lightheaded?  

Now it is 8:30.

Ebb and flow, right?

Dedicatedly yours, 

—One of 365

Only an artist's rendering--but how wonderful if it could be true.....The Fountain Of Youth.

Dear Ether,

“24 is my age limit for girls.  And truthfully, that’s even a bit old.”  I couldn’t believe what I was hearing from my 20 year old cousin.  A girl my age was too damned old for him.  I had actually hit an age where I was considered a grandma to boys.  Look, the truth is, I wouldn’t want to date someone 20 (unless he was a Vanderbilt and BUILT) but I had never thought that I was excluded because I had a few smile lines and could legally drink.  In fact, I thought it would be a bonus that I could buy booze!

As you all know I’m not looking to date a poor student–and lord knows I’m NOT looking to date my bloody cousin.  But I’m freaked out about aging.  Hearing these words was just another slap in the face that there is no fountain of youth and that I’m not getting any younger.  There’s going to be a point where I’m going to be too old to wear certain clothes and hairstyles.  Shit.  Will I be too old to turn up Jay-Z full blast in my car also?

So, I have to accept that 20 year old boys look at me and think I’m a old broad rather than a hot tamale.  That’s tough to stomach.  I feel like I was in University and 21 not too long ago.  I felt like I could have anything and be anyone and now things are closing up for me.  Options are becoming more limited.  Many of you will think this post  is really immature and that I’m pouting about something trite.  But for me, this is like seeing a first gray hair (thank god that hasn’t happened yet).

I never thought I would ever be this age.  I never thought I would be strapped down in a relationship filled with problems.  I never thought I’d be saying good-bye to my twenties.  Truthfully, I thought I’d die my my twenties.  I really did.  Don’t ask why I thought this.  I just always had this premonition that I wasn’t meant to live past a certain point in my life.  Screw premonitions, huh?  (That sounds terrible–like I wish I was dead.  Please don’t misconstrue…)

I know most of you reading this would think the thought disgusting, but it makes me sad that I’ll never be able to kiss a teenager again or experience college love for the first time once more.  And you know what’s weird?  Movie stars from the film “Twilight” are the new generation of cool and desired and that “hotties” of my era are celebrating their 40th birthdays.   Robert Pattinson is too young for me, and yet, when I see him on the big screen, I find him quite attractive.  How odd. How odd that I am no longer able to have these crushes realistically (well, I was never going to snag a movie star—but you get my drift).

I cannot change my birth certificate.  I cannot change my experience.  And you know, a huge chunk of me still feels the same way as many 20 year olds.  But it’s off limits.  Very weird.  Very weird indeed.  I know you can’t change time, but I sure wish I had appreciated being young.  And I know many of you will think that I am ruminating on something stupid and repeating the same mistake that I wish I hadn’t done when I was 19.  But, I guess we can only live and feel in the now.  And right now I’ve never felt older.

Dedicatedly yours,

—One of 365

Dear Ether,

Well, Well, Well.  Just when you thought I’d given up on Fashion Fridays……….but they’re baaaaaaaaaaack!  You know, I’ve been so busy with other topics.  My dad’s results came in on a Friday.  I needed advice from you guys on a Friday.  It seemed that the end of the week was just a dire day that needed serious attention. But, I realize that I’ve neglected a very fun part of One of 365.  So for all of your fashionista Ethers, here’s a little clothing pizzaz to start your weekend.

I didn’t choose anything too nuts.  I wanted to snap a look that I love dearly and I’ve worn with staples you’ve seen before.  I wanted the garment to speak for itself with the other accessories to act as a canvas to let it shine.  I love this dress.  It’s beyond comfortable, beautifully made, smartly constructed, uniquely designed, youthful and sleek.  You can also dress it up or down.  Even better, it doesn’t show your gut if you’ve just wolfed down a burger and fries (and in my case, half a cake!).

Here’s the story behind it.  I worked as head of copy and content for lifestyle, fashion and beauty for a very famous UK department store website.  They had the most unbelievable discount.  We had two different types of deals.  One deal was we had a yearly allowance of 1,200 pounds worth of uniform at 50% off.  Now, for the shop floor folks that only meant black shoes or a suit.  But, since we were the creatives and had manager status on our cards, we could B.S. a bit.  The icing on the cake was that we also got 50% off 1 bag and 1 coat.  Nice!  But the best thing was our discount could be used towards sale items too.  So you can imagine the deals we got during Christmas and July.  The other general discount was 33% off almost anything in the store.  AND…sometimes they would give us an extra 10% off day making the total 43%!!!  Oh yeah….beyond killer.  Most of my paycheck went back into the shop which I think might have been their evil plan  Needless to say, most of my lunch breaks consisted of shopping and trying to score deals.

This dress totally wasn’t what anyone would consider uniform.  But, as I was a creative and manager, I gave a huge smile and sweet talked the head of sales of that department.  The dress was originally 200 pounds, marked down to 100 pounds and I paid 50 because of my discount.  FAB!  I’ll one day share with you my many goodies that I got from this amazing department store.  And there are so many regrets (oh why, oh why did I pass up that amazing Vivienne Westwood skirt suit for 200 pounds that was originally a grand!!!).  But here we are on Fashion Fridays enjoying one of my many delights that I got working in London.  I know you want to hear more…you’ll die when I tell you what I paid for my YSL Muse bag

Happy Friday Ethers and thanks for hanging out at the ol’ blog.

Dedicatedly yours,

—One of 365

I reckon this would look great on any figure. And you see the Falke tights that I have worn a zillion times (and keep pushing you to buy) and my KG's (best buy EVER). I think this is a whimsical, fashionable piece that really stands out. I get compliments when I wear it out because it doesn't look like any ol' dress.

Here it is splayed out in its full glory. It's made of silk and I love that the sheer fabric pattern matches the crocheted swans on the chest. So clever and a perfect touch to make this a really special piece. I think it's the little details from the designer to match things like fabrics which make pieces stand-out and feel very bespoke. Swan Silk Dress, Desiyah, 50 Pounds, Famous UK Department Store, London

Just in case you couldn't see the fabric patterns matching in different textiles, I thought I'd take a photo that captured the detail. I think it really is what makes it so special and worth you noticing. Pretty nifty, no?

I’m not going to insert the KG heels or the Falke tights as I’ve put them in so many Fashion Fridays it would be redundant.  If you have NOT seen them before, feel free to click on the sidebar where the categories are. You’ll find them listed there.  You can get the prices and my style thoughts about them. But, I will say, they are two of my favorite pieces because they go with everything and elongate the legs.

Ring...Ring...My Normal Dealings On This Holiday.

Dear Ethers,

I hate Thanksgiving.  Yes.  I’m the original Scrooge of this holiday.  I’ve always been grateful to be out of the country whenever November rolls around.  Thrilled to make a quick phone call to my folks, say a half-hearted festive I love you, and then hang-up happy to be freezing in my flat eating Indian food while they munch on turkey.  

Though I do love pumpkin pie.

Why do I dislike this beloved Thursday?  I don’t like the food, (oh god, cranberry mold jiggling on the table next to the gravy with giblets—blechh). I’m not a fan of the forced family get together with relatives gathering asking me questions I DON’T want to answer and the false sense of gratefulness for what, exactly?  I mean, I tend to have more complaints than thanks (I know, I’m a jerk–but you guys know I’m a total pessimist).  Oh, and the hot breath of my dog on my thigh with his eyes bugging out of his head desperate for something, just SOMETHING, is SO pleasant whilst eating.  And he always chooses ME as his bosom buddy.

And I think cornucopia’s are ugly floral display’s, don’t you?

I’m sure you are all “cluck clucking” me about my terrible attitude, but I have to be honest.  

My Mom cooks for two days straight killing herself in the kitchen and dead at night from her toils.  She then becomes mean as hell to everyone around her.  Very festive.  My father, Mr. Perfect, panics if anything is out of place and I begin to worry he might keel over from stress about the few people arriving for dinner. Again, incredibly cheerful. My crazy Aunt S., who has chosen to humiliate me since I’ve been conscious, asks me out loud what bra size I’m sporting these days and then, without permission, lifts up my top and tries to look.  My brother, a total attitude problem at 31, just sits at the piano and is anti-social and rude.  Besides giving me a “noogie” and acting like he’s a frat brother from “Animal House,” there’s really not much else he contributes.  English gent might as well don tails and a bow-tie and put on a heavy Edwardian accent because he ends up being everyone’s bitch.  Need I go on?

Oh, and just this morning The Big Apple Beauty, in town for this “grand event,” took a rolling tumble down our steps.  We all thought she might be dead as she made no noise.  After lying crumpled on the floor for 30 seconds, she got up.  Her perfectly streaked hair looked like she stuck her finger in a socket. She winced and limped outside.  There she remains lying on a chaise lounge moaning with hideous scrapes on her arms.  I’m sure the bruising will start to show any time now.

I detest any meat on the bone and seeing a turkey carcass haunts me.  I hate dark meat and everyone in my family is selfish and takes all the white first.   And yes, my dad might, just might, put on Neil bloody Sedaka in the background.

Happy Thanksgiving everyone–especially to the poor Indians whose land we stole–thank you even more for giving us this holiday.  But hey, at least you guys are gonna have fun tonight at the casinos.  Whose having the last laugh now?

Anyone for roulette?  In my case, I wish it was Russian…….

Dedicatedly yours,

—One of 365