Aug01

August Must-Haves

It’s August? Seriously? How did that happen? Where is this summer going? Better make the best of what’s left of summer with these staples for the month. Because there are still many beach days ahead, I’m obsessing over my Maaji bikini I snagged at the Escape Beauty Lounge during Mercedes-Benz Fashion Week Swim. You can also score the brand at The Orchid Boutique. A trip to the beach isn’t complete without sunscreen. (The idea of Botox scares me.) I keep mine stashed in this Hayden Reis bag for the beach. These sunnies are by far the coolest shades I’ve come across all summer with their metal cat eye frames from Italia Independent. Beach bound in my Miayos summer shoes. They are made locally, named after Miami streets and add a perfect pop to summer trips to the sand and shore. Check out my Biscayne Blvds. Exfoliating the parts of summer that…Read More

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Jun21

The First Day of Summer Has Arrived

{Bikini: Karina Grimaldi. Fedora: Vintage. Sunnies: Forever 21.} The first of summer is here. And after combatting an inbox with 500 “guess what Kim Kardashian is wearing now that she’s a mom” press releases, tracking trends, meeting daily deadlines, playing cabbie to a kid who won’t be able to drive for another 11 years and battling a mockingbird looking to fill his empty nest pre-dawn, I’ smacking my laptop shut, throwing on my Karina Grimaldi bikini, slapping on some Hampton Sun sunscreen and hitting the beach with my closest and dearest gal pals. We call it Fancy Friday, and it’s the working girl’s saving grace. So much so, I find myself working on Sundays and double-timing it Monday through Thursday so I can squeeze in a little toes in the sand time. We share, we nap, we sun, we laugh. We pretend the summer clouds rolling in don’t exist so…Read More

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Feb26

Excess Baggage

{Swimsuit: c/o Maio Swim by Monica Wise, available at theorchidboutique.com. Shirt: Base. Sunnies: c/o Lacoste. Bag: c/o Hayden Reis. Shoes: Jimmy Choo. Bangle: Vintage.} The worst job I’ve ever had in my entire life happened the summer of my senior year of high school. I got hired by a resort in Destin, Florida to drive around a golf cart, pick up tourists and take them to the beach. When they needed my services, they’d beep me the number of the house they were staying in, I’d pull up to the front door, load them in and drive them to the end of the street. It sounded ideal, a summer in the sun. But it grew old, fast. Eight hours a day, I’d pull up to an Easter egg-colored house on the resort’s property, wait for an army of sunburnt tourists in zinc oxide-covered noses to toddle out of their house, weighted down with one or two…Read More

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