Thursday, May 12, 2016

Fat Kid in Rome - Dinner

When one finds themselves in the middle of the most visited city in the world, come dinnertime, there is one little hole in the wall you can call home, Il Matriciano. Although you have most likely heard of it, seeing as every time I stop by I notice multiple english screaming tables, it really is not a tourist trap. It really is still good.  Just because it has become attractive to visitors, locals have not stopped dining there. In the past two decades I have been lucky enough to treat myself to this joy and boy has it never had an off-day. 

Wednesday, September 3, 2014

Workwear Redefined, Houston Hotel Boasts Well Dressed Staff

There are days that I would give up my daily dark- chocolate bar to be able to wear my pajamas to work, and there are days where I truly suffer from high-self esteem and just love wearing pencil thin heels with waist-cinching everything. I absolutely have no excuse and can not ever really wear pajamas to work, but what can you say, it's all about how you wake up that morning...and your work-place attire rules. What I really miss about high school, besides not having cellulite and being able to eat an entire basket of french fries before running six miles, is having a pre-determined ensemble (uniform) five days of the week. Mornings were simple. Wake up, eat breakfast, slap on the skirt, polo shirt and get to school on time.
 I wish I still had a uniform. Having an already pre-determined outfit every morning would eliminate about 45 minutes of starring at my clothing rack. In my perfect world, a flattering uniform provided by my employer would really alleviate my morning routines. 
 Early this year, my employer (David Peck USA) announced an associate wardrobe design contract for for a new luxury hotel in town. My immediate reaction was to put in my two-weeks notice and go work for this hotel. Forget all bias thoughts you presume I might already have but just take a look at this line up of work-wear: David Peck USA for JW Marriott Houston Downtown.
Doesn't it make you want to be a part of JW Marriott Houston Downtown?

Wednesday, September 25, 2013

Diagnosed: High Style Esteem

After months of hiatus, much of which I spent pretending to work and visiting several brain shrinks, I came to find the reason to my shyness. I hadn't lost my voice, it's still here. I hadn't lost something to write about, I'm still complaining. But I did however, lose the HSE I was suffering from all of 2012. For those of you not in a medical profession, I was suffering from High style esteem. Basically I thought I was like bomb dot com until I noticed how realz high I rated my self on the style-dar. Like why would Karl's intern's assistant be thinking of me when he sketched this collection? And why would Phoebe Philo care how I hold her creations? Or in worst cases, (this is when I was suffering from Low Weight Esteem) try to fit my entire body into a tote.   It's time we discuss and re-asses the idea of any style-esteem...if only I knew where to start. Well, let's start with evidence. HSE ends when you realized you popped the arm-button off your Skaist Taylor jumpsuit from eating a gelato for an entire week (see image). Yeah, like how cute are you walking all around a southern italian town in cherry pop red playsuit from Katia, but um how un-cute to be the fat kid in it. I might have been pastry shop hopping on this street. Shhh. 

Jumpsuit  - bag 

Wednesday, July 31, 2013

Matchy - Matchy, When Food Inspires

It happened during Carnivale (a festive season that occurs before lent in south american countries, where you get school off, dress up in costumes, and celebrate life).  At the age of five, I went through a phase where I only ate foods in or near the color family of my clothing. It just so happened that I relapsed this summer when I ordered cotton candy gelato. A flavor similar to the turquoise adorned sandals squeezing my fat feet together. From complete satisfaction of devouring the pretty aqua sugar-based meal, I continued to try this for a couple of weeks, and by weeks I mean twelve hours because it did NOT work. First of all, I ran out of red ensembles to match the pastas I kept wanting to order in Italia. I'm thinking it might come in handy for fall when my relationship with Merlot-blends get serious...and the spilling slash accidents of over-self serving won't damage because, oh wait, you CANT stay with red wine if you are wearing red wine hues. But on the other hand you can pretty much lose all nutritious value to your diet, especially on a neon color blocking day. 

Cotton candy gelato, thanks to "Il Molo" in Gaeta, Italia

Friday, May 31, 2013

Fat Kids in Paris - Breakfast

Who ever thought fashion bloggers don't eat must not have met LA and I. Well mostly, must not have met me at all because, well, I have yet to master hiding the evident cookie rolls pouring over my Kenzo cinched waistline. Like a great addict, I tend to only friend those I can enjoy a proper meals with. Nothing irritates me more than the weirdo that invites you to dinner and really meant drinks. Like that was cool in college, but for cereal, mid twenties I need ma cereal. It's like my old trainer used to say, "once a fat kid, always a fat kid."
A fat kid day in Parigi usually starts with a walk to Cafe de Flore. Sometimes I'll skip the bread, and by sometimes I mean never. And sometimes I get a cafe a lait. And Sometimes I get a half cooked egg. And sometimes my terrible French makes LA laugh so hard she needs a bloody mary at 11am. All because I accidentally ordered a half a dozen half cooked eggs. It turns out finger-pointing to order is rarely effective. Damn you egg dozen on display.