Sigh....the naked dressing room....an open area filled with women with all types of figures. For me, there is always the slow, uncertain unzipping of clothing for inevitably all to see. But I have to admit: For me, there is nothing more beautiful than a naked woman. It's the women who are flawed that I turn my eyes away from. And I am so scared that women might view me as flawed if I am not picture perfect. Is that why I choose a dressing room instead of remaining in the open "pen" unlike the other women who seem to not give their bodies a second thought in the naked dressing room? Read on and let me know what you think. Does one have to be picture perfect to be approved for public nudity? And for you gentleman, I've thrown you a bone (no pun intended) and included some damn sexy photos for you as a reward for being such patient Ethers

Dear Ethers, 

Have you ever been to a naked dressing room?  You know the ones—they are simply a room with a bunch of mirrors, some hooks (if you’re lucky) and a bunch of women in different stages of trying on clothes.  I dread these changing areas.  I always have.  They usually exist in discount clothing stores or warehouse sales.  I always come prepared wearing a nice pair of underwear and a decent bra, but it really takes the fun out of shopping.  

It’s really funny to see some of the different personalities of the women in these veritable pig-pens.  You get the shy ones who take their bras off under their shirts, slipping the lingerie through their sleeve.  You get the enormously fat women with cellulite you only have seen on the Discovery Channel wearing dainty thongs acting as if they were a diminutive size 2.  You get the 20 year old student types with great breasts that you wish you had and then you get the grandmas who might have once had those stellar knockers but now they are pancakes that hang to their waists.  

I think the same rules somewhat apply in the open dressing room as they do with men’s urinals.  You’re not supposed to look.  But I know as a woman I have this urge to compare myself to others and it is so rare to see real women nude so I can’t help but sneak a peek and see what’s really going on underneath clothes.  I am always so surprised at who is ashamed of their body and who could give a rat’s ass.  Funny enough, it’s the girls with the awesome figures who show shame and inhibition while the women with serious weight issues, scarring and bad shapes seem to show the world what they’ve got.  Why is this?  

I envy these uninhibited women because I’ve spent my whole life being ashamed of my body and covering up, worried that my thighs might be slightly wobbly or my bum not toned.  I wonder if you are closer to perfection if you worry more about the little things while if you are so far from perfection, you just feel there is so much to deal with you say, “Fuck it.”  

There are other reasons I hate naked dressing rooms.  I feel modest.  I’m not a huge fan of nudity, even if I did have Giselle Bundchen’s figure.  I’m okay with other people seeing me in my underwear, I figure it really isn’t different than a bikini.  But naked—nope.  I think that’s way too intimate.  Call me prude, but I don’t even change in front of friends.  I mean, I’ve had friends shower in front of me, use the bathroom while I’m brushing my teeth—frankly, it makes me uncomfortable.  So, do I have a stick up my ass?  I’m sure even in the olden days women changed in front of each other and helped one another get dressed.  So why am I a 21^st century girl with a Victorian sentiment about nudity?  

And here’s the really odd thing, and you can probably get a hint of this from the pictures I chose for my post: I love seeing beautiful women posed nude.  I love artsy photos of women with incredible bodies shot gracefully or artistically.  I envy their physiques and look at the twists and turns of their body structures as a phenomenon of genetics and of humanity.  There have been women that I have seen photographed that have had such perfect forms that staring at them has made my heart skip a beat because it amazes me that someone like that exists.  I know many of you are nodding your heads and asking yourself how a girl in the magazine industry can say these things when she knows Photoshop exists.  But I also know how MUCH you can Photoshop something and I’ve also been to many shoots and seen these women in the flesh.  These goddesses are often the real deal.  We have one shot at life and some of us are blessed and given a body like a Victoria’s Secret model and some of us are 5’1, dumpy and given a really bad set of boobs.  I guess beautiful women, to me, are like an anomaly.  Just the luck of the draw.  I suppose it would have been amazing to have had a taste of what it would have been like to have been a siren in this lifetime.  But the truth IS the naked dressing room.  It’s the majority and I guess it’s where I feel ashamed.  It’s the realization that I’m normal.  And so are the rest of the gals in the room.  And though there is nothing wrong with normal, unless you are extraordinary, I’m not a believer in showing the world everything you’ve got. 

Recently a store that I go to that has a naked dressing “pen” installed 3 private changing rooms.  Whenever I go, they are always full and there is a queue to get one. 

I guess I’m not the only modest girl who’s paying homage to Queen Vic’s protocol.

Dedicatedly yours,

 —One of 365

And may I present the women I would paste to my dorm wall if I was still in college!

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

Dear Ethers,

I always feel a tremendous triumph when I write this post, for yet another week (well, work-week) has past.  Though I freelance and often work weekends, I’m glad that my vacuous little post gives a little whimsy to the nice days off ahead.  If you view my blog at work, you don’t have to think too hard.  You just scroll down the page, look at some bonkers outfit out of my closet, go “meh” and then move on with your day.  I love doing it because I have this crazy wardrobe full of clothes and it’s going to be fun and look back at all of my Friday posts and see the different get-ups I got-up to throughout the year.

It has been broiling in Los Angeles.  Even in this desert climate where I’m used to it cooling down in the evenings, there is no justice at night.  My fan is my only salvation and I try and wear as light a fabric as possible to sleep in so I don’t sweat to death (I told you, I refuse to sleep in the nude because it’s earthquake territory here and that’s all I need–a 7.5 on the Richter Scale–Armageddon and me naked scurrying for my life).  I bought the dress this week for 15 smackaroos at a blowout sale.  It is made of really lightweight, stretchy fabric and sits on the body well.  It can be worn as a halter, but I like wearing it with the beads around the neck, so strapless it is!  I think the amber neckless makes it more exotic and tribal.  AND I get to wear one of my nifty strapless bras I got from the Gap that I raved about (READ: BRA STORY–it’s a hoot with a nutty picture to boot!).  I finally took a photo of the thing that holds my girls….love it!  And my loveliest citrus Ferragamo’s that I had shipped over from Italy this August.  The LAST pair in all of Europe in my size.  I had a hook up from my mag days at old Salvatore and she got me a deal on these beauties–still expensive—but I own these in black leather and they are just perfection.  They’ll never go out of style and they are so comfortable.  They discontinued the kitten heel in England and the United States—which is what I LOVED about them.  You can only buy the kitten in Italy and some parts of Europe.  I cherish them.

Right, so I wore this to an event that was for a very colorful jewelery launch last night.  It was Africa hot inside and out.  I thought, hey, Africa hot, why not conjure Africa?  I thought this looked a bit African–sorta (look, go with me on this, okay?).  I wanted to be colorful and bright and lightweight.  And I wore my hair down which you just might be able to glance in the picture.  I rarely do that and I so wanted to take a clip and put it up, but the dress looked good with it down, so down it stayed.  So, no big story here.  A cheap dress, damned expensive heels, a bargain bra and a hand-me-down necklace.  Pretty simple and I think pretty chic.  Have a wonderful rest of your work-day and I’ll chat with you on Saturday.  Oh.  I’m covering an event that the devil itself created tomorrow night that might keep me up until 5-6am so I might post late.  Forgive me.  Actually, I should say, LORD forgive ME for this assignment.  Hey, at least I’m earnin’ the bucks.  I’ll try and tell you as much as I can…..Tweeting usually gives me a bit more freedom.

Dedicatedly yours,

—One of 365

I don't love how this picture looks. It doesn't really look so polished. But, this was taken at 3am by English gent who had been up 24 hours working on a report and had a wonky eye. Yes, I should have smoothed out the dress and pulled up the bust a bit, but hey, guys, sometimes, I'm exhausted, okay! Also, my arms look terrible and they aren't, so no judgement! With my excuses made (and they seem to be made a lot lately...boy, I'm going downhill) I just like the pattern, the colors, the tribal feel. I like how easy this is just to throw on. Just slip on the shoes, put the necklace over your head and fling the dress on. EASY!

C'mon, for $15 you can't really complain. It elongates and it has a built in elastic belt that makes your hips look small and allows the top of the dress to blossom. Worn either as a halter or strapless, take this on holiday as it won't wrinkle. Wear it over a bathing suit, because the material will dry ASAP. It's just a great Summer dress. Wear with hair down and a necklace or hair up with big hoop earrings. Tribal dress, $15, Veronica M, Los Angeles

If I was going halter-style maybe I could have gone bra-less. But no, strapless=bra! No sagging boobs for me thank you very much! And see it in its glory. The bra I spoke of. The Gap 32C. It's lovely lilac and lace. Comfy yet supportive. A bargain. I can't remember what I said I paid for it. Was it, like, $15? Strapless Bra, The Gap, Around $15

English gent's mom was always bringing me back lovely things from the Middle East. This was just another fab gift. Simple. A strand of luminous amber beads that sits perfectly around the neck. You know how some amber is foggy or matte. No, this is clear and speckled. It is stunning. I love that with the dress this almost replaces the look of the halter neck. I think it really makes the neckline. Amber necklace, English gents Mom, Priceless!

I could write a whole dissertation on these. The comfort. The style. The classic beauty. These are PERFECTION. I own these in a matte black leather. I wear them everywhere. Well, I was in contact with a gal PR of mine from Maestro Ferragamo and she told me when the sale was going to hit. She sent me a color book and told me to act fast. My shoe size (7 US, 5 UK) is VERY popular and on sale, these would go quick. I wanted the yellow so badly. And sitting, the very last pair in my size in Europe, in their smallest shop in Genoa, were these. And even on sale, they were a bloody fortune. I love that I might be one of the only people in the States who owns these. They were limited edition in Italy and for that season only. You'd think the color wouldn't go with anything, but it goes with EVERYTHING. And the kitten heel gives you just that extra oomph of height. I ADORE these. Karla Pumps, 330 Euros, Ferragamo, Genoa

Dear Ethers,

A very excellent Friday to you!  For some Ethers, your work-week is ending and “Fashion Fridays!” will be a nice little treat to end your day.  For others, you’re dragging yourself to your 5th (and thank fuck FINAL) day of work and this perky post might help get you started (with a large cup of coffee, of course).  

And speaking of coffee, this is where I got my Friday inspiration from.  I met a lovely girl from Elle magazine in Los Angeles who works in the fashion department and thought I’d get a little funked-out to meet her since she is a young fashionista.  Since we were meeting at a great coffee chain here in Los Angeles called “The Coffee Bean & Tea Leaf” (famous for its Frappa-craziness in a million varieties) in a trendy part of town, I wanted to look casual/cool.  I always feel when you initially get together with another girl in the “biz” you always should wear heels.  It’s like men wearing ties to a meeting.  I think it’s just the done thing in the magazine world.  So, I picked out my favorite sky high KG’s that you’ll see a LOT of because they go with EVERYTHING, and put them with something I thought was unique and flavorful.  BE WARNED!  Unfortunately, the camera-woman (my sweet mom—my dad wasn’t around for this photo op) isn’t Mario Testino and couldn’t figure out the ways of the beast that is a ”point and shoot.”  By the time I taught her its “crazy” ways, my battery was low, we couldn’t re-shoot and the pics weren’t very flattering.  Trust me, it looks SO much cuter in person.  The skirt fits me better in the waist and for some reason my legs appear funny.  Please keep that in mind—and besides, who am I kidding, it’s not like I’m Amber Valetta.  Right-o, shall we begin “Fashion Fridays!”?

PS: I decided to put the poll at the top of the page as no one was voting  I want to see if this changes anything.  Truthfully, I don’t like how it looks as much and don’t think it works as well, but, I’m curious to see if more people vote if they see a poll right-away.  

Let’s break down the look from top to bottom:

My black and white panther T-shirt is from a brand called “PRIMP,” a label launched in 2004 by Wells Butler whose belief is that clothes should be “comfortable AND stylish.” PRIMP patterns are easily spotted by their unique silhouettes and bold prints.  These can range from animals to anchors, or for more chilled-out chicks who wanna make a fashion statement, Wells has a really cute peace-sign that will bring out the hippie in everyone.  The patterns can be found on everything from thermal leggings and sweatshirts to shorts and tank tops.  The clothes all manage to be whimsical, fashion-forward and unique.  The color palettes range from simple blacks and whites to sizzling reds and heart-stopping pinks.  Often the patterns will have a little rhinestone randomly placed on the fabric so when a bit of light hits, you glitter!  Worn by celebs Rachel Bilson, Paris Hilton, Lindsey Lohan, Britney Spears, Mischa Barton, Hayden Panitierre and even the Obama girls, PRIMP is a brand the cool gals like to kick-back in style with.

Next up is my lilac-gray high-waisted skirt with embroidered straps (in the States it can also be called a jumper–but that’s a really old fashioned term and in the UK that refers to a sweater!).  This piece is an absolute fave of mine!  I bought it at the Sunday Up Market in London just off Brick Lane  (one of my top markets in London that I recommend visiting) from a student who makes her own clothes.  Now, I’m sure she didn’t embroider the straps herself, but the design is amazing, the color is unusual and I loved that she only made 3 of them (1 in my color, 1 in black and 1 in cream).  She probably has reproduced more since, but it was such a cool feeling that you were helping a budding designer, getting a one-off-piece that was really unusual, and you felt you found a “find” (which I think is the whole point of  market culture in the first place).  I get compliments on it often and I adore that it has pockets–very fun.

Those metal gauntlets you see on my wrists are a gift from my English gents Mum.  The Eg’s family lived in Saudi Arabia because his father taught English to Saudi’s (that’s why my lovely bloke went to boarding school and has become anal about things like my eating in bed read: http://bit.ly/45qbdv and folding ties refer to: http://bit.ly/i50Eb).  The good thing about the Eg’s folks being in Saudi were the goodies they got (though his poor folks really hated being abroad).  You have to remember, a lot of the fashion they get in S.A. that’s “new” is actually from the 70’s and 80’s.  So, my Eg’s mum would get amazing brand-new designer clothing (and we’re talking like, catwalk quality) that we would consider vintage/retro with tags!  Hermes scarves, Dior sweaters, Lanvin shirts…and here’s the killer, it’s cheap as chips!  They also encourage you to haggle in Saudi, so almost everything is a bargain.  The modern stuff is more on the normal side of the price line, but even those duds are much more affordable–and when it goes on sale–forget it!  Again, bargain central.  If that place was safe to visit, screw oil, it could make a fortune just from shoppers.  

Anyway, I digress.  Right, so those gauntlets are actually from Yemen and are antiques.  They aren’t supposed to leave Yemen (shhhh….) and were smuggled into Saudi Arabia where his mom bought them as part of a jewellery lot at an auction (oh man, you should see some of the stuff she has—drool worthy).  When I left for the States she gave me 3 of these bracelets (the 3rd one is much bigger and isn’t part of any pair hence me owning a trio–it is stunning though).  I love these because I can wear them as matching bracelets on each wrist or double them up on one hand to make them look like one large bangle.  It’s also a great safety device if anyone tries to steal my purse–some people have brass knuckles, I have my antique studded gauntlet bangles!

Finally, the feet!  I’m one of the many girls out there who always dreamed of being taller.  I’ve told you before I’m by no means short (I’m 5′6). However, I’ve thought that 5′9+ would be awesome–like being an Amazon lady.  These suede, platform KG’s with their 4+ inch patent heels give me that uber model height.  When I first tried them on I was skeptical that I would be able to even stand in the stilts let alone walk a foot in them. Here’s the shocker, not only are they pretty comfy, but I can strut my stuff  without having a Naomi Campbell Vivienne Westwood catwalk incident (I can’t move terribly quickly…but they’re swagger shoes anyway).  They go great with SO many things: jeans, trousers, dresses and skirts. What a great investment.  I love wearing them with tights in the colder seasons–a good tip if you wanna wear open toed heels when it’s chilly.  

So, there’s the story behind my outfit.  I always love knowing what made someone buy something, where they got it and if they got a fab deal.  As a lover of fashion, it’s just so much fun to share your “war”drobe stories (trust me, I’ve had to fight for some items with nutty women at sales—don’t get me started with a fight at Selfridge’s circa 2004 and a pair of Prada trousers…I’ll write to you about that one in another entry).

Okay guys, happiest of Fridays and clink a cocktail to your health and happiness for me, okay?  Have a great weekend and I’ll speak to you tomorrow.  

Dedicatedly yours,

—One of 365

My coffee inspired casual-funk look (with heels, of course!).

My PRIMP shirt (hey, take out the R in PRIMP and what do you get, yeah that's right, the kinda bad-ass super star you are when you don this, baby!). Notice the black crystals on the panthers. Meow! Bought from T.K. MAXX (yes, America, same chain as T.J. MAXX they just changed 1 letter--dunno why) for 5 pounds sterling on sale! These T-shirts normally retail for $60! Always check those clearance racks.

Original, cute, versatile and hand-made. I love this piece. I'm wearing it with a casual T-shirt, but I've also dressed this up with a lovely flowing blouse, black tights and I'm ready for a night out. Go from cute to beaut'! Purchased from Sunday Up Market, London 30 pounds sterling

Ahhh....respect them. Honor their immense patent heel height and platform madness. Respect the tassels! These puppies are dead sexy and can make those gams go from sausage legs to rocket launchers! KG heels bought from Harrods in London for 50 pounds sterling on sale from 100 pounds sterling.

They don't make them like they used to, eh? These are so beautifully handcrafted and delicate (even though they look like they can take your eye out with one fatal swoop). I treasure all antique jewellery, but love these because they are a gift from my English gent's mum and also from a place so exotic. Priceless.

Pssssst: I know the poll is at the top, but don’t forget to VOTE! X

Ahhh....now that's more like it. This boudoir beast needs to aim for this kinda sleeping palace and grow up. I don't see any bras hanging from the ceiling in this joint, do you? No, only lovely damask curtains. Again, shall we repeat, ahhhhh.

Dear Ether, 

Have you read “Catcher In The Rye?”  If you have, you know the character Stradlater A.K.A. “The Secret Slob.”  Now, I’m not going to say that I’m a slob (I’m extremely hygienic, unlike Master Stradlater whom I believed used rusty razors and wore dirty underpants) but I’m appallingly messy.  You wouldn’t even imagine my clandestine dealings when you saw me on the street…well with the exception of my fingernails (but we’ve covered that one in http://www.oneof365.com/oh-so-talon-ted/). I’m pressed, coiffed and perfumed—I waft through posh shops where I’m complimented on my dress, or asked what fragrance I’m wearing.  If only they knew that the outfit I was donning was only hours ago in a ball, in a dusty corner, under a wet towel, in my room…that my dog was curled up on.  My bedroom…oh dear…my bedroom…it’s a no-go zone.  I don’t know why I can’t control it, but no matter how hard I try, it’s a district of disaster.  

It follows me wherever I go, this messy bedroom.  My dorm in college was famous by other students as being horrifying (and that’s pretty bad given college students aren’t the tidiest of folks), my flats in London looked like nuclear bombsites.  

I always move into a new place with the best of intentions hoping that THIS time a new me will blossom and the “Secret Slob” will shed its skin.  

This is how it all begins: I start off with a clean, fresh canvas.  My clothes, neatly folded in my bureau, hung up in closets (I even have lavender sashays and drawer liners in dainty Liberty prints!).  But it just takes that one night when I’m too tired to fold the dress I’m wearing and I just step out of it, and a week later there it is, lying crumpled under a layer of 100 other things that have amassed on top of it.  

It’s a curse.  I never can find matching socks, shoes go missing (and I always blame some sordid robber who REMARKABLY never steals anything but that one pair of misplaced shoes).  I step on and tear new clothing with tags still attached.  Bras hang from ceilings (that’s a joke, but you get the idea…).  It’s also a really horrible living situation psychologically.  I’m surrounded by a pigsty and feel like I’m living in squalor.  I want to live bright and happy, not dark and crappy. 

My partner, a total neat freak (the guy folds his ties into perfect pleats and balls his socks—boarding school—that’s what it does to you) can’t stand it and has lectured me about my beastly ways.  He spends as little time in the shit-hole as possible, works in his office as much as he can and even sometimes finds it so maddening that he sleeps in the guest room.  Yep, this “Secret Slob’s” sex life is even screwed (pun intended) by this too.  

The crazy thing is I love reading and daydreaming at the décor in Architectural Digest and Martha Stewart Living.  I dream of empty space and trendy wallpapers, rooms filled with fragrant amaryllis and orchids in vases.  I love apothecary jars with old labels neatly filled with cotton balls or a Diptyque candle burning elegantly on a side stand with a gorgeous oversized coffee table book.  Oh, to have a magnificent antique iron bed neatly made with crisp Ralph Lauren sheets, and delicately folded at my pillow freshly pressed Princesse Tam Tam nightwear ready to put on after a balmy shower. I imagine my room clean and inviting—just as I appear to the outside world.  

Every so often I’ll take a stand and gut my room with a bulldozer, (well, more like my hands and a large trash bag) make it very presentable and for a day or two and I’m no longer Stradlater.  But then, that dress slinks down my legs into a disheveled heap on the floor and the catalyst begins.  

My only hope is that when I roll into my 30’s or make the big bucks that I can have a walk-in wardrobe like Posh Beckham (that girl has it MADE).  Hopefully I’ll grow up and morph into what I look like on the outside and make it happen with my personal space.  Until then, I think my English gent wishes he had probably met a proper English rose who didn’t have a mouth like a sailor’s (I tone down my language for you lovely Ether’s) or a bunk like one either. 

Dedicatedly yours,

—One of 365