Confessions of a Fashion Fanatic: C'est Chaud.

Confessions of a Fashion Fanatic

The daily chronicle of a fashion-and-beauty obsessed, style-writing, pseudo-Angeleno who made her way from the Great White North to La-La Land -- otherwise known as Los Angeles, California -- and back again. Till the next big city calls out her name, that is.

: Name: Haute Hippie; Location: Everywhere and anywhere

I'm a Vancouverite who moonlighted as an Angeleno. My momma is the best in the entire world, and I'll argue you hoarse on that one. I've been in love only once in my life. The East Coast calls me but the West Coast is in my blood. Social butterflies -- and party animals -- are a great species. Fashion and writing will be the death of me, but what a way to go. Carine Roitfeld is fabulous. I would die a painful death if art, design, photography, fashion, music and dancing did not exist. Always kind of wondered why Smurfette was the only girl in town. I can't draw. Absolutely believe everything happens for a reason. I feel so lucky to have the girlfriends that I do. I'm a total sun baby. Think I might be a workaholic. I may have slight road rage. Ice cream and hockey are religions. I buy too many glossy magazines. Nothing beats someone with a killer sense of humor. Chivalry is really not dead. I'm a victim of minor vertigo and a serious lead foot. Always up for meeting people from paths different than mine and crossing paths with old friends. At the very end of it all, I want to be able to look back and say: Yeah, I sure lived a damn good life.

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Wednesday, July 29, 2009

C'est Chaud.

Holy. Moly.

The heat blanketing this city right now just cannot be legal in either ten provinces, three territories or 50 states.

Tower and rotating fans aren't helping most local folk out, so if you have an actual AC unit, then bravo, you lucky bastards.

Or if you happen to be free to hit up a pool, good for you, too. I just ran into an acquaintance of mine (twice in two hours, actually!) who does marketing for Red Bull across the country, and apparently RB staff have the unwritten luxury of taking the rest of the day off to find said pool to cool down in. Once again, lucky bastards!

Currently my sleepwear attire consists of my birthday suit, and let me tell ya, it's not working very well and there's not much less you can wear from there!

That being said, I'll stop whining because eight months (or more) of the year consist of us complaining about how much it rains, so keep on shining down, Mr. Sun.

Here's what I need to beat the heat:

Del Monte Strawberry Kiwi popsicles. They're real fruit flavor, and I feel fairly guiltless eating them (yep, that was plural).

A bikini. I like this Eres one.

Spray bottle filled with H20 to spritz myself. Had one handy while on my girl Ovitch's patio yesterday. Though I ended up smelling faintly of a mountain-y fresh scent, I was cool as a cucumber (at least until the water evaporated, which gave me about three minutes of cool).

Mags. W magazine is nice, and so is Wired. I'm a geek. And Brad Pitt's on the new issue.

A cold glass of Coca-Cola. I'm not a soda drinker at all, but you can't go wrong with Coke and ice in a glass. Or in an original glass bottle.

So take that, stifling humidity!

I'm Lovin' it: The fact that New York artist Terence Koh got married to his long-time partner in a wedding gown. Of course he did!

I'm Over it: No matter how high a setting I put my fan at, my bedroom still feels like 33 degrees celsuis.

Music of the Day: Foreign Born from Los Angeles. In all honesty, this was an indie-pop discovery made while reading the June issue of Wired yesterday. Thanks, Chris Anderson and crew! Interesting fact: Matt Popieluch, the band leader, has a day job as an L.A. groundskeeper.