Where have I been and what have I been doing


I’ve been kind of missing for some time now, mostly because I was on a plane for ten hours, got kind of drunk two nights in a row and then went to a dinner party at my aunt’s. It’s been stressful.

But amidst all of the confusion, I’ve finally started to write a second book. It’s nothing like Crafted with Soul, the book that Brianna, Maria and I wrote on modern artisanal fashion/cuisine in Italy. That one is set to be released in August 2012, but it really depends on how long the editor and graphic designer take to perfect/fix it.

My personal project is a compilation of things I like/have done/want to do/are ashamed of/still can’t believe happened to me. I’m excited about having something to do and being able to have an opportunity to share my wisdom and other crap with people. If I can make only one person a little happier with my writing or even fuel one fire with the actual book, I will feel like I have accomplished something wonderful. Success isn’t about making money to me or being famous or having a lot of shit. It’s about being as sparkly as possible and being HAPPY, while radiating positive energy and making other people happy too. It’s also about having nice hair and wearing couture and owning a lot of shoes. And animals. And being tanned.

I will post a few excerpts from the manuscript in a few months, so watch my blog for them! Or don’t, I’m really just writing this book to entertain myself and occupy my time. But if you want to, then do it. I’m sure it will be worth reading at least once. Or probably skimming through.



The Kleenex Diet

Okay, so I recently heard about this secret ballerina diet of sorts called the ‘Kleenex Diet’. Basically, it consists of Kleenex. Kleenex contains 0 calories and apparently takes away one’s desire to eat altogether, which sounds great at first, but once you realize that you’re eating KLEENEX things start to get a little sketchy. I mean, I once accidentally took a bite of a napkin that was wrapped around a vegan, gluten-free sandwich and I wasn’t too concerned about it, but I don’t think I could ever fully eat a Kleenex on purpose. It’s paper.

As much as I really, really really really REALLY want to be as thin as I was when I was a ballerina, I just don’t see how one can be a graceful, poised creature and eat fucking tissues at the same time. It just wouldn’t work. Perhaps a better alternative would be to eat salads and drink water. I dunno. Try it out and see what happens before you resort to eating things that you use to blow your nose.


Things to do on a train when you’re bored

Travelling can be super boring and induce anxiety, especially when you’re doing it like more than 4 times a week. Needless to say, I’ve been finding myself getting pretty fucking bored while travelling to Monte Carlo or Paris or Milano or wherever. And since I hate flying, I have been taking first/second class trains everywhere which is usually pretty comfortable but still lame because there isn’t really anything to do except fall asleep in awkward positions or stare at people.

After exhausting most of our options, my sister and I came up with a list of things to do while you’re on a train and bored as shit. And here they are:

1) Acrobatics

I don’t/can’t really do this, but my sister finds it amusing to embarrass everyone around her (me and my mom) by climbing shit and doing slutty pole dancing tricks. I’m actually never really that embarrassed by it though, I find it pretty funny.

2) Make fun of our other siblings who aren’t here. And dad.

We could do this for hours because it’s SO easy. All you have to do is pick an incident, conversation or text message and tear it apart. It’s great because they’re not even here to defend themselves, so we always win.

3) Write poetry.

I  came up with these two haikus with a little help and encouragement from my sister. Here they are:

The sun is shining

I am leaving Monaco

Proenza Schouler


I missed Italy

I am on my way back home

Where there is champagne


I tend to write haikus because it’s especially easy to write a haiku. Even a total moron can do it. Just remember, 5, 7, 5. 575. Yup.

4) Try to smoke a cigarette in the washroom. Just kidding, you’d totally get in shit for that.

5) Make sure your shit doesn’t get stolen.

This can be kind of difficult given that there seem to be gypsies and sketchy people everywhere, but I find that if you carry a large weapon with you at all times, this helps to keep them away.

I am still trying to look for new things to occupy my time. Reading, listening to my iPod and talking to other people becomes rather boring after a while. So, if anyone has any suggestions, they’re welcome. I’m starting to get to the point where I’m losing my shit.


When I die, I want to go to Moulin Rouge.

I love the Moulin Rouge. LOVE it. There were sparkles everywhere. I drank a lot of champagne. There were ANIMALS. Acrobats doing circus shit. It was generally just amazing.

I also saw a lot of boobs, which I didn’t expect, but kind of should have I guess, since it IS burlesque and the MR is also on a street that contains at least 700 sex shops and porn cinemas.

Anyway, it was totally worth the hundred Euros for each ticket and the experience was life changing. There was even a girl who swam naked in a tank of water with a bunch of snakes. Fierce. I was totally inspired. Or maybe I was just kind of drunk. Either way.

This night also marked the first time I ever wore my Versace for H & M stiletto boots anywhere, since they are impossible to walk in for more than 2 minutes without needing to sit down and take a break. But I honestly still love them regardless. They are so dominatrix-ey. I’ll wear them again one day. Whatever.

Go to the Moulin Rouge, it’s so worth it.

Bonne nuit!


These macarons can go fuck themselves.

There are macarons at literally every boulangerie/patisserie in Paris. It’s out of control. They are really cute and REALLY good, but they’re totally bad for you so I only ever buy them for decorative purposes.

Because of all the hype over these little cookie-things, I’ve been wondering what the fuck a macaron is exactly. Are they cookies? Pastries? Miniature inside-out/upside down retarded cupcakes? This is what I discovered in my research:

  • Macarons are made with: egg whites, icing sugar (eew), granulated sugar (no), almond powder, milk ingredients (fuck no) and food colouring (no).
  • Each macaron has about 60 calories. That is fucked up considering how small they are.
  • A macaron is NOT a macaroon. Two different things.
  • Macarons are chic and trendy.
  • They were originally created in Italy, and then later brought to France by some monks or something like that.
  • Laduree Paris is like 150 years old.

Given the calorie/ingredient situation with these things, I guess for now I will only stare at and smell the macarons that I encounter here in Paris. I feel like it’s kind of the same as eating them anyway.


I can’t fucking deal with this shit right now.

Dear friends,

So I’m in a couchette on my way to Paris right now and I have a brutal headache. After spending the day walking around Milano free as a bird, having to deal with this small space right now is killing me. It’s the size of one of my closets at home, and I have all of these electronic devices plugged in around me such as my Blackberry, my Macbook air, my sister’s iPhone, etc. and I keep getting tangled up in all this shit.

It’s hot in here, I’m sweating, my hair is annoying me, and I got this salad earlier but somehow there was CHEESE on it so I obv didn’t eat it and I HATE THIS SHIT. I had to climb up a ladder to get into bed. It was weird and I was wearing a sundress with no underwear so I probably flashed a few people because I was right in front of the window. But I wasn’t going to put on underwear just to climb up there. No. Fucking. Way.

Okay, so we just managed to open the window, but still. It’s an oven in here. I totally just chipped a nail too. Whatever. I’m over this.


Thanks, mom.

Dear mom,

I haven’t seen you in like a year, but you’re getting to Italy tomorrow and I’m SO excited. I’m also excited to shop.

Over the years, I have been kind of a disaster but the whole time I have always loved and appreciated you and everything that you’ve done for me. I know Franc and I always make fun of you for going to church all the time, but I understand that church can be as powerful for you as Louis Vuitton and Proenza Schouler are for me. To each his own.

And I realize that in the past twenty eight years you’ve had to deal with my shopping/Barbie/drug/manicure/yoga/alcohol/Hello Kitty/fashion/make-up addictions, along with my annoying veganism and the many surprises that I’ve sprung upon you, such as the one where I got a dog and didn’t tell you. But that ended up being a happy surprise for the entire family, because while I’m here in Italy, he is bringing excitement and joy to your lives each and every day. Thanks for taking care of him btw.

So today, I am sending you positive energy for being a source of inspiration in my life. Thank you for always encouraging me to read The Secret, wear my healing crystals, ask the Archangeal Michael for forgiveness, ask that other saint whose name I can’t remember to help me find all the shit I lose at the bar (like my keys that one time) getting me that metallic silver Gucci purse last year, sending me money, and going with me to Planet Organic, Whole Foods, Yorkdale, Michael Kors, Louis Vuitton, the Four Seasons, Holt Renfrew, BCBG, Aritzia, Victoria’s Secret, the Eaton Centre, the sushi place next to our house, and McDonalds. Also, thanks for taking me to Starbucks 37 times a week. And above all, thank you for loving me just the way I am, even though I’m totally fucked.

Love you!

Happy mother’s day


Is it really over?

If you go to Florence University of the Arts, then you obviously had your last exams yesterday and are aware that our graduation ceremony/party is tonight around 7 pm. If you aren’t, then you’ve probably been taking a nap for the last month. In which case, you missed your exams and failed everything so graduation is irrelevant for you anyway.

On that note, I can’t believe that school is REALLY over. I have spent the last year living in Italy, writing, reading, eating, sleeping and breathing fashion and getting yelled at by Kim. None of it feels real. Except being yelled at by Kim. (But although Kim is tough, I learned the MOST from her. She is super chic and powerful.)

So now, I’m trying to figure out what to do with my life. Over the past few weeks I have been exploring a number of career opportunities such as:

Fashion writer/stylist/blogger/something or other

Since this is what I spent the last year studying, it would be perfect for me to get a job in this field, especially the field of fashion writing/publishing. I will always and forever LOVE fashion.


This has always come naturally to me. Well, not cooking and cleaning per se…cleaning, yes. I’m obsessive compulsive when it comes to cleaning. But cooking…no. Never. But I’m really good at taking care of other people and always maintaining a positive aura! I’m also really good at wearing cute outfits.


I talked to my parents about the possibility of taking care of my dog and having them pay me. This is how the conversation went:

Me: But if I like, don’t end up finding a job right away, I can just clean, organize dad’s office and take care of the dog. And you can pay me, right? Mom: Laura I’m not paying for you to take care of your OWN dog.

Relatively unsuccessful. But I thought it was a good idea.


Partying as an ACTUAL job would be both exciting and chic..but probably exhausting and also bad for one’s health. Oh yeah wait, I HAVE been partying gratis for the past ten years. So I guess this is just really more of a hobby.

In the end, there are so many choices and opportunities, I will have to review the pros and cons of each and then make a decision over time. I’ll have lots of time to do this while vacationing in France. Happy graduation everyone!!!



As funny as it can be to watch other people’s struggles, some problems are really serious and need to be resolved before they end your life. Part of the issue with this kind of situation is that some people just can’t tell/don’t care/won’t accept that anything is wrong with them, and continue to, for instance, finish a bottle of vodka every 24 hours, smoke 100 cigarettes a day or only eat a piece of lettuce and have a can of Diet Coke once a week. Not okay. So to help others take notice of their issues and see things more clearly, here is a list of ten things that might be a sign that you’re fucked up and could benefit from checking into a rehab facility:

1) If you open your fridge in search of food and all you find is a bottle of organic ketchup, wine, champagne and a 40 of vodka.

2) If you no longer have heat, electricity, or shoes but you have an endless supply of cocaine.

3) If you can’t recall the last time you did something fun when you were sober.

4) If each time you go out you find your nights lasting until 2 pm the next day.

5) If you begin to hallucinate regularly.

6) When your drug addiction develops a drug addiction.

7) If you start to lie a lot. (Aka lying just for fun)

8) If everyone you know tells you that you should go to rehab.

9) If the police tell you that you need to go to rehab.

10) If you almost die of alcohol or drug related causes, starvation, depression or exhaustion.

Remember though, addiction is serious. If you have a problem, seriously try to get some help and if you know someone who is losing their shit, HELP THEM.

Please keep those people who have died of any type of addiction/depression in your hearts.

This post is dedicated to the late Tiffany Reid, 1988-2010. Miss you forever<3

Bitch of the week

I’m pretty sure that everyone knows how much I love a good bitch, and this girl is stunning and fierce. The actress’s name is Sara Foster (semi-boring) but the character she plays on the new 90210 (Naomi’s gorgeous sociopathic older sister) totally makes up for her flat acting name. In fact, I only ever call her Jen Clark anyway, so whatever, her name is Jen. I’m in love with her. She’s sophisticated, cultured, hot and super cunty.

On that note, I’m going to go watch 90210. You should too.