You guys…I am NOT 19.  I thought I had sarcasm on lock, but some of you, BLESS YOUR HEARTS, thought I just turned 19.  Nasomuch…

All this 19 talk got me thinking, and I’m finally breaking through the raging case of  bloggers block I’ve had this week.  I am someone who is always looking ahead, learning, moving on, closing chapters, shutting, sometimes slamming, doors in an effort to just get on with it. I don’t think I realized what a defining year 19 was for me until all your comments brought it up, so thanks for the blogspiration, betches.

“We do not grow absolutely, chronologically. We grow sometimes in one dimension, and not in another, unevenly. We grow partially. We are relative. We are mature in one realm, childish in another. The past, present, and future mingle and pull us backward, forward, of fix us in the present. We are made of layers, cells, constellations.”

The Diary of Anaïs Nin Vol. 4 (1971); as quoted in Journal of Phenomenological Psychology Vol. 15 (1984)

When I was 19, I was going to school and shopping like it was my job, because I had more money than I knew what to do with.  I was a cocktail server and quickly learned how to flirt my way to $100 tips on a $12 bar tab.  I didn’t have to worry about pesky things like rent or car insurance, and my father was a phone call away if I ever “needed” anything.  I grew up going to church on Wednesday nights and Sunday mornings and suddenly, I didn’t have to anymore-not to mention this was on the tail end of some very personal incidences that would leave me forever questioning organized religion.  When I was 19, I was seeking the antithesis of what my entire life had been, and I found the perfect catalyst for this in the form of a tall, dark and handsome ASU grad who wore Abercrombie and Fitch from head to toe, lived in San Diego and manipulated the shit out of me.  I fell in love of course (because who can resist that), a love that would lift me up to heaven and then kick me down to hell, sometimes in the same week, same day, same hour.  The every other day heartbreak caused me to stop eating, and taught me how to self medicate with strawberry Arbor Mist while watching Road Rules. It also taught me that my body, and sex, could be used as a weapon.  This relationship would go on until I was 21, when I would finally, to the relief of all my friends and family, slam the door on his chapter of my life.

Another man changed my life when I was 19, but he would do so in his death. My step-father passed away, and this was my first encounter with death and grief.  I witnessed my Mom, my everything, crumble because she had lost her soul-mate suddenly and tragically, while he was in Switzerland on business. I remember wondering how she could love someone so much and becoming terrified that I too, someday, would love someone that much and then lose him.  I still have this fear, which becomes evident in my anxiety if my boyfriend doesn’t call me when he is traveling. When I was 19, my best friend moved to Northern California, which isn’t bad AT ALL, but at the time, at that age, it seemed so far away.  Years later, I would be the maid of honor at her wedding and realize that the friends who matter are the ones whose distance from you doesn’t.  When I was 19, I had so many opportunities, dreams, goals, ideas.  Some I would accomplish, some I let fly by because I was just too busy being…nineteen.

I still have so many opportunities, dreams, goals and ideas.  Some I still let pass me by.  I still question organized religion, but treasure my faith.  ASU guy is a very distant memory, but the lessons I learned about love, and myself, in that relationship are still fresh, and I hope I never forget them.  My Mom is fabulous, and has taught me that a love like the one she had is worth having, even if you lose it too soon and that I can’t control everything, as much as I would love to.  My dad is still a phone call away if I need anything, although these days I call him because I want to, not because I want something. My boyfriend gets in trouble if he doesn’t call me when he travels. I no longer self medicate with Arbor Mist through a straw, I’m mature now, people. It’s all about a bottle of Pinot Noir while watching Jersey Shore.  Nothing like the sweet, sweet smell of progress.

But I can’t walk by an Abercrombie and Fitch without wanting to vom.

Back to my regular posting schedule on Monday, after VegasVegasVegas!

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Memories can be triggered by so many things. A commercial, a song, a smell…when you least expect it, can take you back…

Yesterday, I spent some time with my Mom. I have one of the coolest mothers ever, she’s really my best friend and probably my favorite shopping buddy. I was on the hunt for yet another pair of leggings, maxi dresses, sunglasses, cheap and cheerful stuff for summer. Somehow, shockingly, we stopped into CVS on the way back…because I NEEDED something. As I wandered down the cosmetics aisle, not looking for anything particular, I found this…and I thought my Mom and I were going to completely loose it in CVS.

Coty Airspun Loose Powder. Ay yi yi…

Anyway…yesterday. My mom and I stopped dead in our tracks when we saw Coty loose powder at CVS. The old school packaging first grabbed our attention and we were both like no way do they have this here!? and then…when we opened it…the smell. It smelled like Nana. It was like every childhood memory came rushing back to me. My Mom said it reminded her of her grandmother. We both got teary, and started smelling it like two crazies This is Nana when she was I believe, around my age.

My Nana was gone long before she passed away. Seeing someone I love more than life deteriorate over a period of ten years is one of the most horrible experiences I have ever had. I just, we all just wanted her back, but she was lost inside herself. Nana kept trying to sketch for me, her hand shaking, until she just couldn’t do it anymore.

Because I was so young during the good years while she was so healthy and vibrant, it’s hard for me not to look back and automatically remember the hard years. The last time I saw her, everyone left the room and I held her hand and said my goodbyes. I like to believe, have to believe, that she knew I was there, that she could hear me tell her how much I love her.

Yesterday I left CVS with Vanity Fair Magazine, some gum…and Coty Airspun Loose Powder. I will never use it, but in a way seeing it in MY bathroom next to MY perfumes and makeup, makes me feel that much closer to Nana. Like maybe I have a bit of her back, and if I catch a whiff of the stuff (it’s strong)…I’ll be reminded of the happy years. I miss Nana, but our family celebrates her, and she would be very upset if I was writing a bummer post about her, so while writing this does make me cry, this post is in no way depressing. Nana is why I love fashion, why I do what I do, why I am who I am.

So on another note, kinda, while I was looking for this picture of Nana, I found a picture of Gabby, She Wrote and I, circa maybe 1987? Things haven’t changed a bit! I’m still a terror, and she’s still sweet as pie. (Allegedly)

And now I have the same bangs! Talk about full circle…Have a lovely weekend dolls! XOXO, Liz

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It’s Story Time, Dolls… Get comfortable.

Sooo a few things first-

• I love bullet points. It’s the corporate/anal side of me rearing it’s ugly head.
• I miss you…and I’m VOWING to blog everyday for a month, starting today!…I’m not going to get all ridic and say a year just yet, crazies…but Im pretty sure on May 15th, I’ll be ready to re-commit. I have commitment issues, what can I say? Thanks for sticking with me you loyal little lovelies! XO
• I am going back to the above hair color, but NOT the bangs. I know what you’re going to say…the bangs are fierce. I know this…but honestly, looking back…the bangs were also a big fat pain in the booty. I’m a pretty high maintenance girl, but even us girly girls don’t want to have to worry about our bangs when we’re working out or going in the pool or something. It’s highly annoying. I’m not saying never though…
• The picture of me was taken on the way to shake it at Opera in LA one night while my dear friend K was behind the wheel. Isn’t she gorg?This was allegedly for a work function-ahhh I love you, fashion industry, I will never stray from you again!!!!!!

Started out like this-My boss emailing me from his office next door-”Liz, what are you doing tomorrow night?” Me…knowing that something fabulous was just around the corner and being umm…ME…who was training my lame replacement(why would I leave this job? WHY? sometimes I wonder myself but cie la vie), told that chick to hold on mid-sentence and high heeled it next door. He held up two invites for the next evening…sighed a dramatic “guy who works in the fashion industry sigh”-if you catch my drift and said, “Well, we’re double booked tomorrow night, so which one do you want?”

One was a meeting with an editor for the New York Times at the Standard, and while that was probably, lets face it, the “right” decision to make…the other was a “networking” event at Opera in Hollywood, the club, people, not an actual Opera, partnering with a modeling agency…and an open bar WITH bottle service. Well, we all know what decision I made…and while I’m sure meeting with that super important editor could have been really enlightening, and even more could have been an amazing networking opportunity for myself personally…OH WELL.

My boss was the one texting me at 9pm telling me he was home, bored and should have come to Opera. Sucker.

So anyways, as I’m getting a head of myself, as usual…the boss says, “Bring anyone you want…” AS IF there is any choice.

Do you guys have a work bestie too? The ones you email back and forth with, talking trash on co-workers you don’t particularly like and sharing websites you prob shouldn’t be looking at in life, or ever for that matter ha…the ones you sneak out to Starbucks with 4 times a day even though you have to walk right past your CEO’s windows but really…you don’t care? The one who emails you inappropriate things on your blackberry while she knows you’re in an Executive Meeting? And then suddenly you’re hanging out for Taco Tuesdays and on weekends, and going to pilates and the beach, and meeting boyfriends and stealing clothes from the work sample closet? Huh? WHAT? Or is this just me, and did I get really lucky with K? I miss her.

I immediately spin around and tear through the marketing dept. looking for my partner in crime…she’s in the closet a.k.a (heaven)…and we decide that yes, we’re going and that we simply need to leave work early the next afternoon to…

A. Go dress shopping and B. Get blowouts, oh and C. I have to do her make-up. Because when you’re a make-up artist, suddenly nobody around you can put eyeliner on. Whatevs. When we tell our boss this, he rolls his eyes, but by this time, Team EK pretty much ruled that dept…don’t mess…don’t upset one, you’ll upset the other…haha.

Our mission for the evening was to network our high heels off…I was the Marketing Manager for our nationwide brand and she the Marketing Coordinator…we were armed with business cards and…yeah. Ended up sitting in the V.I.P section getting tipsy off champagne and Hypnotic, talking to the most random people in LA and making fun of everyone who was actually hardcore networking.

• You know how some nights are just so…amazing that no matter how many nights you go out, they just can never be duplicated, and you NEVER forget almost every detail of what happened? I’m not going to bore you with all the gory details and inside jokes, because I love my loyal readers, but I will say that we ended up at Mel’s Diner at 4am…and in my L.A experience, any evening that leaves you at Mel’s is a good night. I feel like this is much like Cafeteria in NYC.
• Work the next day was a joke…as was my “report” to the CEO about what we accomplished.

Sometimes you just have to have some fun. I hope you all are having fun…you deserve it, dolls! Tell me all about it…I wanna know! XOXO, Liz

P.S. Because I’ve received some questions-the lipstick/gloss I am wearing in that picture is Please Me by M.A.C with Clear Lipglass over it. Please Me looks like scary 80′s pink, but you can totally rock it out with the right eye/cheek combination. Don’t be scuurrred!

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