I am blowing massive pink heart bubbles because my Sex and the City DVD booklet has emerged from the rubble in downtown storage. Phew! Big relief that it hasn’t been sucked up by the dust mites or creepy crawlies in that lonely dark unit. I am happy to say I will no longer have to wait until Saturday to watch re-runs of Carrie Bradshaw on E!. I am a fan not only because I hail from the New York area, but I understand the essence of what fashion means, and in some grand scheme, it is not just about putting on the pink tutu white tank combo and dancing across a billboard, but embodying true feminine style and finesse. Maintaining womanliness is my goal. I’ve been called a Carrie Bradshaw clone, even more so because of my blonde hair job last year, and to top it off, my crazy unforeseen dating life, with its awkward turns and loops! Riding a sort of sexual romantic Space Mountain ride at Disney World, darkness filling my eyes as I step onto the dating ride with fears of upchucking my lunch. Though I’m a brunette, I have managed to have come into the possession of a blonde personality like that of Ms. Bradshaw. Endless dates, one lover who is etched in immortal failure and can’t be revived, and fashion friends to joke with over misfortune and heartache in Dating Wonderland over girly cocktails and green tea chocolate. The taste of NYC, with its fashion, is left on my palette still after years of not living there, and I ache to find people with similar palettes in SF, though it is an impossibility. An oasis of glamour, disappearing before my eyes as I walk the streets of downtown SF, as I trudge towards Neiman Marcus, the replete mecca of “haute couture.” So to Carrie Bradshaw and friends, I raise my raspberry flavored Cosmo towards finding and returning to the world of designer everything! A trip to NJ/NY, may be jn the works for this summer. Viva la mode!! <3<3<3
A Diamond to Remember 