It’s World Water Day and I am proud to partner with Brita to get word out there about their campaign with Me to We to support a borehole in Irkaat, Kenya, that provides the local community with clean water. I can obviously get on board with the initiative and I love that it’s two-fold; not only does your purchase have an impact in Kenya, but by using Brita’s reusable statement bottle in lieu of a disposable water bottle, you are making an environmentally conscious choice that affects us all. So, stand

I’ve never been much of a suit person because I’ve never had reason to be. When I did work in an office, the dress code was pretty much non-existent, provided you dressed fashionably (I did PR for fashion brands),which suited me just fine. Before that, I worked for a non-profit arts organization so you know there was nary a suit in site. “You’re lucky,” my friends, who had to wear business casual every day, would say on shopping trips upon turning down my suggestions (“I can’t wear that to work,”

I’m usually pretty open-minded when it comes to clothes and gladly accept outlandish pairings, offensive proportions, unorthodox style–that’s the stuff of fashion, I think. But if there’s one oversight that the gods of style must regard as a sin, it has to be treating your topper as an afterthought. You know the type I’m referring to–that would-be put-together woman on the street who relinquishes any and all style cred by wearing her everyday parka over her chic dress. “She might be cold,” you say, and yes, parkas have their place

I used to fret about cramming as many blog photos in as possible on the weekends when my photographer/husband/childrens’ father was home during daylight hours, to take them. (Mike’s titles are by no means listed in priority sequence there–I mean, unless you count those of my former, photo-whoring self who’d rather gamble her infant’s afternoon nap than risk not having “enough” outfit posts for the following week. That bish be cray). And I was. I wasn’t living in the moment with my kiddos, which was a big deal because, since

I’ve been talking about Minimalism a lot on the blog lately, and while I have realized that I am not–and could never be–a Minimalist in the sense that most people in the documentary espouse (I’m a stuff-everywhere, lived-in, piles-of-pillows, and clothes-as-mementos-type person), I can make more intentional purchases. Rather than eschewing my love of clothing in favour of a deprivatory capsule wardrobe, I have been prompted to look more closely at my shopping habits and how they impact my life–and the world. I’ve alluded to it time and again, but I’m the shopping equivalent

So my quest for a pared down but keyed-up wardrobe is going ok if you count the fact that I have been out shopping several times and have managed to resist the urge to buy the cheap and cheerful trend stuff that has caught my eye. It’s almost always an inner battle, but so far my conscience is winning out: “the shelf life is so short on that ruffle-sleeve sweater,” I tell myself. “Think of the big ticket items you have on your To Buy list.” (And by big ticket

If you’ve been following my Instagram or reading the blog, you know that I have been re-evaluating my wardrobe lately and what I am finding is that a) I buy a lot of cheap, trendy pieces in lieu of nicer, classic staples, and b) I don’t have a ton of clothes for the life that I actually live, but am consistently drawn to dresses, heels, and stuff that’s just not practical for doing school drop-off and running around after a toddler all day while working from home. Not to say

Lately I find myself in a catch 22 and don’t know which direction to move in. My circumstance is obviously not life or death (although everyone interviewed in Minimalism mentioned a significant decrease in stress levels as a bi-product of their new, minimalist lifestyle, which in turn, directly coordinates to the length of one’s life, right?), but it is weighing on me. You might have gleaned from the parenthetical statement above, that I recently watched the Netflix doc, Minimalism, chronicling the lifestyle of “the Minimalists” and others after they committed

So things have been kind of slow on the blog because holiday preparations have taken over my life (in the best possible way). And while I’d love to be organized enough to write about the holiday extravaganza I’m planning, (I need to manage my expectations just a little because it is, afterall, the first family Christmas dinner I have ever hosted), I’m too busy writing lists (and checking them twice –really more like ten times because I’m a compulsive over-planner), and shopping and taking care of Viggo and Gigi to do

It is a well-known fact among my family and friends, that I LOVE Christmas. So much so that for me, the year is ten regular months and then after October, it’s “Pre-Christmas,” followed by “Christmas!” But this year I’m riding an even bigger holiday high because I am hosting my first ever real Christmas dinner (on the actual day), at our apartment. I feel like Clark W. Griswold in Christmas Vacation–my expectations of what this “perfect” family Christmas is going to look like are set pretty high. And things get

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