This is a Romanov. She is strikingly beautiful. Though she is not the woman whose photograph would later captivate me, when I saw this image of Princess Olga and she took my breath away...I felt she was a good way to convey how I felt the day I DID see the visage of the stranger on the other end of the phone.

Dear Ether,

Somewhere in Odessa there is a photograph of me.  It might be stored away gently in a envelope.  It may be crudely covered in rubble in a dump.  But somewhere…..somewhere in the Ukraine there is a snapshot of me taken when I was in my mid 20’s.

The original keeper of the photo was a woman I never met.  She spoke no English and I no Russian.  My glossy print sat on her mantelpiece for about 5 years in her modest studio flat.  It shared space with images of her grandchildren, husband and daughter and a few tattered black and white photos that survived the war.

English gent is half Russian.  His mother is this woman’s daughter.  To me she was only known as Babushka.

I only spoke to her a few times on the phone.  I muttered foolish statements that English gent had taught me.  “Ya Loo-Bloo Tibia” (I love you).  She laughed with good nature into the phone and repeated. “Ya Loo-Bloo Tibia Tour-Jah” (I love you too).  It felt sad that I was crippled by language and couldn’t communicate with a woman who I knew had a tremendous history and warmth.  I had never been handicapped by language before—in fact, it was something I was so good at.  I always handed over the receiver feeling like a puppet who’d just done her job entertaining.

One day, I asked to see her photograph during a visit to English gent’s house.  His clan are a family of pale, fair-haired, light eyed, slim people.  Babushka was in her twenties in the photo I was shown.  She couldn’t have been more than 5 feet tall.  She had coffee-colored hair and brown pupils. I know it seems crazy, but I felt a sudden closeness to her.  I felt she was from my stock.  That English gent’s genes had all come from his father’s UK side (and even his mother was shockingly fair—she didn’t resemble Babushka at all).  Though I’m much taller, we were both the dark horses.  I asked English gent’s mom if I could send Babushka MY photo.  I felt if that made me feel a connection to her where words couldn’t, maybe my photo could create the same spark.

When she received my photo, Gent told me she cried.  That she “understood.”  She loved my dark looks—and it made her so happy that he was with someone who reminded her of her heritage.  After that, I made sure no longer to be a marionette on the phone but to have a translator and convey true feelings across the line.

But, as we all know, time is a harsh enemy.  And she was not young.  She no longer could speak on the phone or read letters.  And then she died.  When English gent’s mother went to her flat for the last time, she said she noticed my photo immediately.  It stood out more than the others and looked as though it had been fingered the most.  It was slightly dog-eared and had many fingerprints on its finish.  I like to think that she passed it around for many to see.  By the time Gent’s mom came back to clean the flat, the mantle had been tidied and to this day, those pictures have never resurfaced.

Though we never got to know each other, when we looked into one another’s eyes from so far away, we had an understanding.  I often wonder what my photo got to see in her little flat?  I wonder what aromas surrounded it as she cooked her traditional meals?

Wherever I am in Odessa, decaying in a landfill or safe in a drawer, at least I can say for a moment in time a picture spoke a thousand words for both of us.

Dedicatedly yours,

—One of 365

I swear to god, I think some of the rich assholes I've come across in my life, would, if they were sentenced to die, end up requesting a bespoke chair like this. They wouldn't DARE touch another filthy heathen's death throne let alone sit in it without it being a brand name. The people I've seen come and go throughout my life have been so superficial that when I couldn't measure up to their spending habits, they judged me not for who I was as a person, but who I was when I got dolled up or knew the right people. As soon as my credit card got maxxed out, so did our friendship. I keep falling into the trap of meeting these people partly because on the outside I look a certain way, but also because of the profession I'm in. This is why I keep my distance from people. Because at the end of the day, these fuckers will die peacefully in the electric chair as long as their shackles have shiny brass LV hardware emblazoned on them. The worst part is, they aren't even deep enough to care that they are about to sizzle. They'll just be pleased as punch to be going out in style.

Dear Ethers,

 My pal, uber celeb shoe gal is having a party tomorrow night and English gent cannot come. He’s about 2 weeks behind on a project that he’s doing freelance work for in the UK and it’s due Monday.  He simply doesn’t have an hour, let alone an evening to spare.  I’m really nervous about going alone.  Shoe gal has on her guest list people like Angela Basset, Johnny Depp, Halle Berry (and hopefully her man….grrr), Annette Bening and Warren Beatty.  She also has a lot of Beverly Hills elite (blechh) and very chi-chi designers, business people and friends (hopefully the normal people) coming as well. 

I really like shoe gal.  She’s fun to hang out with—alone.  But when she is in her element amongst the rich and fabulous she acts her role and it makes me uncomfortable.  I also don’t know a single person going and feel like I’m going to be the poor schmuck who is unemployed, not wearing Cartier and living at home with her parents.  

I’ve felt like this a lot in my life.  I went to extremely expensive and elite private schools from 12-21.  The kids were all children of directors and actors, CEO’s of major companies or huge real estate guru’s, or people that were serious investment bankers.  I always hated becoming friends with them because even though by global standards I was doing pretty damned well financially, in their circle I was always the poor girl who could never keep up.  I was never able to go out for $15 drinks, take taxis, shop at Barney’s, give expensive gifts, buy the pricey make-up.  They made me feel insecure and embarrassed.  And to be honest, it really wasn’t my fault.  I was proud of myself for putting my foot down, not spending money I didn’t have and never pretending to be someone I wasn’t.  They were the jerks who couldn’t understand the concept that maybe there were some people who didn’t fly in their Concord lifestyle.  By then, they dropped me—I supposed it was a good thing because they probably weren’t nice enough people anyway.  But, it always hurt because the process in dumping me was humiliating. 

My shoe gal knows that I’m just a freelancer but I think she assumes I have money.  I wear very expensive handbags (all bought for 50% off when I worked as head of copy and content at a very exclusive department store in the UK).  I wear expensive clothes (again, either bought on sale and then again marked down with my discount, or through my clever eye at TJ Maxx, outlet malls, mega-sales and savvy shopping).  I don’t think I’ve bought anything full price in years.  I’m starting to get the problems I have with her that I’ve always had with the other rich friends I’ve acquired.  She wants to go out to eat to places where the bill comes to $120 because she ONLY drinks Champagne and sparkling wine.  She shops on Rodeo Drive (she lives about a block from there) and she never even looks at the price tags at Chanel (she has a personal shopper there who knows her by name and brings her, yes, her favorite bubbly while she tries on $5,000 puffer jackets). 

Here’s what you should know about her.  She is 43, so almost 14 years my senior.  She was first and orthopedic surgeon and then became one of the top shoe designers, at least in America.  She came to this country at 8, fleeing from war and speaking no English.  This woman is brilliant and has made the American dream happen for herself.  She is a successful businessperson and she has worked damned hard.  She should reap the benefits of this—I’m not taking that from her.  But, it’s just getting hard to keep up.  I don’t want to lose her as a friend.  But when she calls me up and says let’s meet for a drink, she’s not talking about the local pub.  She means The Four Season’s Hotel. 

I have NEVER allowed ANYONE to treat me as a charity case.  I’ve had these rich friends offer to pay for me and I have always said no.  There are two reasons why.  1: I never want to owe someone because then they feel that they own you in some way. 2: I feel it has to damage the relationship somehow because the friend might start feeling resentful that they are being used for their cash.  

I had a terrible incident happen to me in London.  I had an extremely rich girlfriend of mine who came to visit from the States and wanted to go to the Light Bar in London.  A drink there is 15quid.  She was staying with me and wanted to take a cab and I told her that it would cost 40quid and the tube was free.  She was really angry and offered to pay for the taxi.  I finally gave in but was really uncomfortable.  She then got us into the Light Bar and kept ordering us rounds (there were two other friends she knew from London there as well).  I said to her that I could not afford more than one drink, but she kept ordering anyway and told me she’d pay.  I was gutted and miserable the whole night.  When the bill came, it was almost 1000 pounds.  All 3 of them took out their credit cards and I was the only person who couldn’t pony up the cash.  My “friend” explained, in a stupid, drunken manner, that I didn’t have the money to afford the drinks and could the three of them cover me?  I was devastated.  I didn’t speak to her for the rest of the next day and thank goodness that evening she flew home.  She and I speak on occasion, but the friendship really died on that night.  I swore NEVER to let that happen again. 

The problem with the business I’m in is that I’m either interacting with people who have large expense accounts or who are very wealthy.  I don’t actually hang out with fellow journalists all that often.  It’s not easy NOT having the green.  I want to be friends with my shoe gal, but I don’t want to have the talk with her that I’ve had with so many that has made me turn crimson—that I just can’t afford to go out with her.  

Again, the irony is that I come from a well-off family, and I would certainly not be considered poor.  But to these people, I am broke.  A hindrance.  So, I’ll go to this shoe gal’s party, put on a big, smiley face and pretend that all is hunky-dory in my life.  But inside, my heart is thumping and all I’ll want to do is get the fuck out of there.  Can you now understand why I don’t want to be broke with English gent and why I want so badly to be a success in a career and make money so that I’m not embarrassed anymore?  I know I should be confidant in myself regardless of what others think—but realistically, the world doesn’t work that way.  You’ve got to be able to pay the bills, not matter how lovely a disposition you have or how happy or in love you are.  I NEVER want to be someone’s charity case or anyone’s poor relation.

I’ll give you guys the details about the party as soon as………..

Dedicatedly yours, 

—One of 365

Dear Ethers,

Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh (arms stretching behind my back).  The Wish List is back!  What tremendous joy I had shopping again, choosing dream pieces without having to lay down my credit card.  Though one day I would like to place an order on some of the glorious goodies I’ve chosen, it’s always fun to fantasize and see something come together from a collection that you’ve chopped and changed.  I mean, of course I imagine myself with a Kate Moss frame when I select such pieces so I also imagine that they would look stellar on me.  But sadly, this girl whose stature of 5′6 and with a bust larger than a 32A would not look catwalk cool.  But that’s what’s so fun about Monday’s.  You can dream!

Today is all about navy blue bliss.  I don’t think this lovely shade gets enough credit and I really love wearing it.  It looks surprisingly good with denim, excellent with white, brilliant with black (just kidding…wanted to see if you were paying attention) and is just a classy, classic color.  I also think it’s a great transitional hue both seasonally and day to night.  Navy can be worn both in the summer and the winter and for work and drinks.

I chose Paul & Joe Sister this week because I really like the playful French fun that they have in their collection this season.  It’s kind of Topshop meets rockstar. Love it!  For a diffusion line it isn’t THAT expensive, though I wouldn’t call it cheap—but compared to something like Miu Miu it’s a steal (I mean, they sell it in Urban Outfitters!).  I also thought it would be fun to integrate beauty into this Wish List because Paul & Joe have such a comprehensive line.

I have mixed feelings about their make-up line.  The packaging is gorgeous.  I think the palettes and the colors for shadows and foundations have tremendous variety.  However, I think it is way too expensive for a brand that isn’t established.  It’s tricky.  You can’t really start off cheaper and then hike up prices.  But a lot of folks haven’t heard of Paul & Joe and therefore wouldn’t pay 30 bucks for a lipstick when blingalicious Chanel is right around the corner with competitive prices. Truthfully, at the end of the day, the double C’s are gonna win out.  I know the line does well in Europe, but I think it is really struggling in the United States.  The packaging is targeted for a younger audience, but again, the price tag is for an older audience.  Anyway, in case it’s new too you, I thought I’d introduce you to it.

So here’s our girl.  She’s going out in L.A. during the day but it’s going to transition to a nighttime hang out too.  She’s got her lightweight dress because it’s sill hot during the day, but she’s brought a long, cozy cardigan when it gets chilly during the evening (hey, chivalry is dead—you can’t rely on gentlemen to offer you their coats anymore!).  Her boots are perfect for walking around in because of the extra gooey, padded platform and if she wants she can stick a pair of tights in her bag if her gams get cold.  She’s brought along some perfume just in case she wants to freshen up, and she’s done up her eyes in this lovely palette that matches the colors of the pattern on her dress perfectly.    This is not a party evening, just a laid back time with friends where she wants to look hip and chic but also be comfortable.  So, welcome back to the Wish List and enjoy our navy nymph.

Meow! This cat print silk dress with a ruffle detail is cute and sexy at the same time. I love how it's got a baggy top that makes it slouchy and casual, but also that dainty skirt which is attached that is short and flirty allowing you to show off those legs. Great for a hot summer day. Or, throw on some tights and voila, you've got your evening look. The sleeves end mid-arm so great for the hip bangle look and again, because this shows so much leg, wait until you see this paired with the rad ankle boots our chica is sporting. Horlane Silk Print Dress, $200, paul&joe.com

How lovely is this cardigan? It looks handmade by someone you love...awww! I think it's the perfect color. An added bonus? It's the same length as the dress, so you'll be totally toasty when night falls! This is a great piece to own because it's a classic. It'll never date because it already has a vintage feel. You could probably wear this as a sweater dress---just add some leggings and some cute boots and you're ready to go. Navy Deneuve Cardigan, $321.75, paul&joe.com

I am in LOVE! These may not look that different from all the black ankle boots out there...but look closely. That sole is what makes these babies ACE! They are going to be so comfy, the ball of your foot is going to thank you. Finally you can be stylish without being in agony. The heel height is sexy, the padded leather looks like badass motorcycle jacket texture. These, paired with the sweetness of the sweet dress above---dead on! Imagine these with tights or bare legs--you are gonna be working it. These are THE black ankle boots of the season. Venus Quilted Booties With Crepe Sole, $634, paul&joe.com

Really cute packaging right? Kinda shabby chic, meets Victorian lady. These colors are the perfect duo to match your dress pattern. The blue is perfect for your lids and the silver is fab for the inner parts of the eye to make them shimmer and catch the light. For more of their endless beauty products look at their ample supply on the website. However, I'm going to recommend a better URL that has, oddly enough, a more comprehensive outlet for their products. Limited Edition Color Powder-The Wild One, $24, www.beautyhabit.com

Truthfully, I chose this fragrance because of the color of the bottle--hey, I'm not gonna lie to you. And honestly, that's what happens a lot in consumer magazines. Products are chosen for their looks and not always for their quality. However, I own this fragrance and it is sweet--literally. Would I run out and buy it? No, but it was given to me for free and sometimes in the summer when I want to smell sweet and fun I'll spritz it on. The Web says it is a sexy, oriental and musky scent. I don't know if I'd agree. The notes are as follow: Top notes: Bergamot/Coriander/Cumin/Ylang-Ylang, Heart notes: Jasmine/Rose/Magnolia/ Heliotrope, Base notes: Oak/Moss/Patchouli/Sandalwood/Myrrh/Labdanum/ Vanilla/Musk. Paul & Joe Bleu EDT, $65 50ml, www.beautyhabit.com

Welcome to the Vintage Valentino catwalk in L.A.! I promised you if I could take pics I would and so I'm here to deliver. I'm usually under a tight-lipped contract so I can't share anything glam with you guys, but because I went as a civilian and not a reporter, I could spill all. Enjoy the show

Dear Ethers,

When I go to any ritzy event it always has a catch—I have to work.  I hope one day to be able to attend a glam party or a wonderful opening based on the generosity of creative friends or because I have the money to afford to buy a ticket.  But as it stands, the only way I get into things is by covering them as a journalist.  It was much better in London when I was a beauty writer.  I didn’t have to deal with celebs at parties ever and when there was an actual party, not just a small tea, it was really contained and lovely. In L.A. it’s not like that.  The events I go to are like mad, “Girls Gone Wild” parties.  Often there can be sweaty, drunk dancing involved and celeb groupies.

On Thursday evening I was given a VIP front row seat to the Vintage Valentino show that was being held at Downtown Los Angeles Fashion Week.  Here in the States, L.A. Fashion Week is considered a joke (sad).  So I wasn’t asked to cover anything anyway.  But this lovely person had bought this ticket and at the last minute couldn’t go and I was the lucky tush that got her seat.  I love Valentino.  I own “The Last Emperor” on DVD and haven’t watched it yet.  But I think his clothes are spectacular and I felt honored to attend.  It was also going to be great seeing the red carpet from afar and lovely not to have to rush home and be up until 5am transcribing my interviews.

I didn’t have anything even close to couture, let alone Valentino couture, and I was sitting in the front row!  But, I had a hunch that this being L.A. and not the hottest of fashion meccas, that if I looked snazzy enough, I’d be okay.  So, I put on a really fab All Saints top that is very Westwood, did my eyes up in fab colors going with my Russian Revolution trend (Read Russian Revolution post for the hottest beauty trend this fall!) and did my hair so I could put in a peacock feather headband that went with my trend alert for hair adornments (Read “Tress-Chic” post for the hottest trends for hair this fall!).  This old set of digits didn’t look half bad

I’m not in the best state at the moment due to work anxiety and was really nervous about showing up to a party without anyone.  A lot of these folks knew each other or were in the biz and so I sort of wandered around aimlessly (though some people were very kind and stopped to chat with me about my top!).  L.A. is such a weird place when it comes to getting dressed.  I arrived looking very London I suppose, and they came looking like—I dunno—I hate to say it—but very…errrmmm…seductive.  The girls were either really blinged out or wearing skin-tight, short dresses with their business hanging out.  And the make-up—oh my god!  Talk about caked on!  It’s just a different beast out here.

Anyway, I was led to my seat which was in a prime location, and it had a goodie bag sitting on it (always fun).  There were Coca-Cola girls in red-sequined dresses walking around with trays of soda for our comfort and it was really laid back.  The opening act for the show was a Brit named Matt Goss.  He has a show in Vegas and he is like a funky Frank Sinatra.  He was amazing!  His music rocked and he had showgirls that danced around him—he gave 100% and it was brilliant.

Our lovely Coke girl and you can see the front row and the goodie bags!!!

I have never heard of him, but evidently he's #13 in the UK charts and has a big show at the Palms in Las Vegas. Anyway, the guy was great and his dancers were very sexy!

Then the catwalk show began.  I was so let down.  You’ll see by the pics what I mean.  Valentino must have a conservatory of clothes that would make any fashionista’s heart stop.  The woman who threw the fashion show actually had collected and owned all the pieces so I understand that Valentino hadn’t leant or chosen the clothes himself.  But my god, the choices were atrocious.  The theme was red and black (never a good move) and the era’s were a mess.  Some of the dresses looked like bad 80’s disasters that I’m sure Maestro Valentino wished never resurfaced.  And the way they were styled!  The girls looked like they were Christmas tress with ornaments on them. The models were so second rate.  They had bad skin, they walked poorly, their faces were “whatever.”  And whoever did their make-up—I could have done better!  It looked like they had grease paint smeared on as foundation with heavy red lips and heavy black eyes.  That’s so dated! The hair looked oily and matted—it was bad.  I saw all of the faces in the front row and everyone was in shock!!!   The show had 2 dresses that I would have liked—but not pined for—and in a fashion show—you should be drooling.  I’ll show you the dresses that burnt my eyeballs out of their sockets they were so ugly first and at the end of my post, I’ll show you the two dresses I liked.  Here goes:

I wouldn't have been caught dead in this when it was created! And the model--seriously?

I don't know if this was Valentino's take on a Spanish-style dress gone-80's but OMG! It looks like it is a costume. And so tacky!!!

I think if they threw some tinsel and some candy canes on her it would have been perfect! Ugh and look at her make-up.

I had to include this because I was wondering if Valentino was even trying when he created this and also whomever picked the model to wear this---did they not see it didn't fit her well? Oh, and I'm sorry again to be cruel, but does SHE have the face of a model to you?

The end of the show--thank god! Look how Goth and scary they look. This would have Valentino crying off all of that orange paint he has on his face!

Afterwards, I had a cocktail, spoke to a few people, had a person I knew from the media take a photo of ME on the red carpet with my camera (very funny) and I drove home pleased as punch that I got out and could kick off my heels—but gave the night a fair go.  I wish evenings like that were more common for me…just nice and chilled out.

If you’re wondering what was in the goodie bag, it was very disappointing.  The goodie bags in L.A. are so second rate compared to Blighty! Let’s see, there was a brand of skincare I never heard of that gave a night serum, wipes for your pet, a sample size of Paul Mitchell hair cream, foot petals for your heels and a CD from Matt Goss that I got him to sign for my brother.  I think they could have AT LEAST put SOMETHING Valentino in there!

Anywhooo….I’m thrilled to be able to actually share what a night out for me is like in L.A.  Leave me a comment to let me know what you thought about the show and that you agree the models are DIRE!  Enjoy and I’ll see you tomorrow with my own bit of fashion with a brand new “Wish List.”

PS: Here are the 2 dresses I liked:

I really liked this because of the layering, the material and the adorable cape. Do I think it is pure genius? No. But it is pretty damned cute and I'd dig it if someone bought it for me But really, it's the cape that makes it.

This is the only dress that said "Valentino" to me. It was his classic red. It was perfectly cut. It was feminine and elegant and wait till you see the back. This is a dress that would blow a man away when he opened the front door to pick you up for a black-tie affair.

You make a great entrance, but man, look at that exit. Your ass looks like heaven and your shoulders and back are stellar. This is an A+ and I'm not surprised they ended the show with this. Perfection.

Dedicatedly yours,

—One of 365

I've collapsed. I'm like a girl in a squat who just sleeps all day-- a faded beauty surrounded by things that might have once been grand. I was once useful and now I am just a drain. BUT I will wake up one day and my greatest fear is that I will be alone. I'm sorry I've turned into the girl in the picture. But I believe what was once beautiful can be salvaged again with belief and hope. Am I right, Ethers?

Dear Ethers, 

I know I was supposed to share my Valentino catwalk show with you today, but I wanted to hold off and address something that has been causing me great anxiety.  

My blog has been very negative and depressing lately.  I don’t know what to do about it.  I’m afraid what I write is redundant and dreary.  I fear it’s become a broken record.  I’m even bored hearing about my saga with English gent and Los Angeles and my woes about my career.  But I pose the question: if this blog is supposed to be real and honest—and about my daily thoughts—then what am I supposed to do?  

Maybe it was a foolish challenge to write every day.  I mean, others do it, but often they have jobs where they have fresh material that they can bring to the table everyday.  Me?  I’m just a normal person—and who really wants to read about someone else’s “normal” when they have their own B.S. to deal with daily?  

When I started One of 365 I wanted to be everything to everyone.  I wanted to be a shoulder to lean on, a smile for someone, a big laugh, a brilliant insight, a fashion guru, a beauty aficionado—I wanted to be the girl that would have impressed Mr. X and everyone else out there in the world.  I wanted to write my little heart out and have everyone relate to me in someway because I felt that I could connect the human spirit whether you lived in Uganda or the USA.  I loved to write and had so much to say and felt blogging was a dream opportunity. 

I feel like I’ve failed.  For about 2 weeks I’ve wanted to throw in the towel.  Erase One of 365 from the blogosphere, delete my e-mail address and my Twitter account and do what I feared most—-fade into the ether.  I felt like an arthritic 90 year old every time I sat at my keyboard writing.  It felt painful to type, to search for images, to feel anything.  I’ve been rubbish at responding to comments (which is my FAVORITE thing about my blog), writing to other blogs I’m a fan of (sorry guys) and Tweeting (which I also adore because of the live and clever banter).  

On the 29^th I will be a quarter of the way through my 365 days. I’ve come a long way, but still have a hell of a long journey ahead.  I know sometimes we hit potholes in life and since my blog is really reflective of my life, can you understand that I’m in a deep pothole–a deep, scary pothole?  I mean, I hope that the 4 wheel drive will kick in and I’ll get out of this and those of you who will have stuck with me will be able to see this dark cloud’s silver lining shine again.  Look, I can’t go on much longer like this either, so if you think reading about this everyday is crummy, imagine living it…. 

My point is, this blog is a journey——and I made no promises that it was ever going to be a smooth ride.  To put it crassly: things suck right now.  But even though it often takes all my strength to sit down and write this and face my feelings, I sometime don’t know what I’d do without this site.  

Will you take my word on something Ethers?  I’m really a nice person who is in a pinch right now.  I’m loving, but desperate.  Hopeful, but crushed.  Amidst people, but lonesome.  And don’t let this scare you, but sometimes I wish I could just fall asleep and never wake up.  But I can’t imagine life without me in it. God knows how, but I get up with my heart in my mouth and I manage to tick each day off the calendar hoping that maybe tomorrow will be the day that the 4 wheel drive kicks in.  

I’m only 29.  But my god, I’m fucking 29.  Can you understand that sentiment?  Amelia Burr said “Because I have loved life, I shall have no sorrow to die.”  I do not feel that way at all.  My dying wish is to have that inscribed on my gravestone.

Dedicatedly yours,

—One of 365