Some days aren't yours at all...I dedicate both this Regina reference and link to Alyssa Imprevento, a Saint on Earth.

Sometimes, I look at these pictures and I pretend I'm eating these beautiful and delicious things... and for a brief moment, the world seems to turn in a more beautiful and elegant manner.

People confuse me sometimes. I will choose to give them the benefit of the doubt for my own sake, otherwise, things just seem so, so cruel... or, things seem to make no sense at all. As a Libra, I have an unquenchable craving for justice and I'm about to go to bed thirsty as always.

Life's not fair, but it can still be good.

I'll move to a kibbutz and finger paint, eat potatoes, and all will fall into place.

And I am finally seeing... -postal service.

All men are created equal...until they get dressed.

We all have our guilty pleasures.

Personally, I secretly adore putting ice cubes in my wine, Youtubing Miley Cyrus, and brushing my teeth in the shower. For some, excuse me- for many, shopping and fashion represent the ultimate guilty pleasure... so I need to ask: WHY? I feel no guilt in fashion at all. I mean, perhaps if the sum of digits on your credit card bill add up to more then you can count on your fingers and toes a-la-Isla Fisher in Confessions of a Shopaholic maybe a bit of a dilemma looms on the horizon, otherwise- shop, look, and lust away! Don't let your fashion habits keep you up at night, I guarantee your conscience has heavier things on it's plate.

I love fashion, I love fabric, I love design. I love the feeling of unworn clothes against my palms when I run them along stacks of folded sweaters in department stores. I love toying prices tags between my fingers and crumpling silk dresses in my fists. I love thinking about a single fiber pairing up with millions of other fibers to form a garment, a garment which will be worn and cherished, and made to flatter a figure. I think great design in any field elevates something-anything- to a higher, more elegant level, and fashion take us, people, the wearers, to our next level... when you look good, you feel good, where's the guilt in that?

So here's to NY Fashion Week and my favorite RTW Spring 2010 pieces... may you continue being guilt-free on the runway, and shamefully un-so at the after parties. Maybe I'll see you around sometime ♥

Erin Fetherson, by Erin Fetherson.

Proenza Schouler, by Lazaro Hernandez and Jack McCollough.

Thakoon, by Thakoon Panichgul.

L.A.M.B., by Gwen Stefani.

Diane von Furstenberg, by Diane von Furstenberg.

Malandrino, by Catherine Malandrino.

Marc Jacobs, by Marc Jacobs.

I cut just like a knife, but I [look] just like a dream- hellogoodbye.

Judging books by their covers.

Everyone grows out of things... for example, we moved on from the unfortunate fascinations we once had as children with side ponytails, boogers, and dinosaur shaped chicken nuggets and we developed more refined preferences as adults, hopefully. Unfortunately, we occasionally grow out of things which perhaps would have served us well to remain permanently in out array of habits.

When I was a kid, I read feverishly. I ate books for breakfast, and I actually enjoyed them... more then I enjoyed real breakfast, actually. Simply put, I could not get enough books in my mental belly, digesting them by the dozen. Though I was one of those punks who dragged my saint of a mother to Borders at midnight to pick up each and every Harry Potter, I also dabbled in some less cult-worthy teeny bopper literature, moved onto a French Realism-Romanticism phase, and then obsessed over post modernism for a while... this of course all happened back in the day, you know, when I knew how to read and all...

Theories abound as to why reading has fallen off my list of things to do, but bottom line: it just has. I know I don't stand alone, people just don't seem to want to read, or write. We type lyk dis cuz it e-z, ryt? Am I the only one who wonders if we keep typing like that, maybe we'll forget how to write? If we stop reading, then won't we forget how to read? Call me dramatic, but I honestly feel significantly less intelligent recently, and I attribute it to my increase in activities that involve ZERO reading. I can guarantee there are about three dozen grammar and spelling errors in this single blog post, and no, not just because I have the typing skills of a primate.

What is it we're lacking? Better language, or better themes? Are books too boring cause VH1 has trained us to think a night without Rock of Love-worthy brawls is lame? Maybe we need to outgrow the correct things, maybe the visual language of pop culture [I love pop culture, don't get me wrong] isn't the only one we should be speaking. New York Times best sellers are wonderful and all, but if you print out a list of classic literature, how many novels have you read on there?

...And how many of those weren't required for fifth period English lit?

In Fahrenheit 451, Ray Bradbury described a society in which firefighters created fires instead of putting them out to destroy books so society could not read them... seems like we might be doing them a favor by beating them to it.

I might considering reading, if what I were reading was this. I gotta buy it, I just gotta.

Exploring Stunning Talents in Asia.

I don't think there are words in this books, but there are some SICK shoes. And a pretty crazy picture of this woman's ass, but I mean what can you do?

Custom Kicks.

Do you ever read any of the books you burn?

-Ray Bradbury