Confessions of a Fashion Fanatic: My Love is like The Dead, Dead Rose.

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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Monday, July 26, 2010