On October 30, 2006, I was in Los Angeles, writing a story on Puffy for GIANT magazine. I was staying at The Standard in West Hollywood, a spot that’s supposed to be fancy but never feels that way to me. (There’s often a woman dressed in all white encased in glass behind the front desk. Livable art. Yawn)
Puff kept stalling. Editor had to keep tacking on more time to my stay. Day after day, waiting…
Hey people!
Tog’s daycare is closed.
It’s a friggin’ blizzard out there.
Tog keeps running to the windows and screaming It’s SNOWING! in my ear.
I gotta shovel. And put ice down. And yeah. All that stuff.
Forgive me for not throwing up one of my insanely long, thoroughly researched posts…
But before I go… this blizzard has me wondering about our First Lady…
When I look at fashionable women, (not women who have enough money to buy anything they want. But truly fashionable women who just know how to put it all together), I notice one constant: nice bags. nice shoes. Always.
I may not be able to pinpoint if the outfit comes from Bergdorf Goodman or Target. But I can always peep the bag and shoe game.
In my quest to be more pulled-together, I promised myself that I would buy myself a real bag.
My history with bags is sad.
As a writer with a bunch of electronics and accessories, I’ve normally gravitated to bags like this…
It’s not the Oscars or the Grammys or the Superbowl. It’s better! The only thing missing last night was a bowl of popcorn. My (fat) butt was right in place on the couch, ready to hear what my president, (isn’t that crazy how we say that? I always say MY president. Not THE president), had to say about the economy and his plans to get the country out of the recession.
But my first question had nothing to do with his speech…
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Aliya S. King 