Happy List

Clean spaces make me happy! As does cuddling, my new obsession with Chobani yogurt, clothes, fashion, celebrity gossip and my selection of brainless shows and most definitely my impending trip to The City of Angels in 3 days! I'm dreaming of what to pack because the high is in the 70s! The 70s!!! I can't wait. I enviously scour pictures of fashionable celebs in their layers and boots, cardis and hats and think - how in the world can they wear that? Oh, well it isn't 100-degrees for double-digit days in a row out there. I am seriously considering a relocation right about now.

Back in Time

I found a plethora of pics when opening up my old laptop and it really seemed to be the kickstart I needed to make myself happy again. So it'll make me even happier to share a few!

Ouch

Severe. Back. Pain. - for months now. IJS

Fashion is my Passion

I have lived and breathed for fashion forever. When I lived in NYC I would deliberately do something or wear something that was just a little off. I even remember the moment it started.

In college I always envied the girls that looked like they threw something on and were still fabulous. I loved that mismatched matching look, but tried too hard to be able to pull it off. So I started small. I wore red kitten heels with a pair of grey capris and a black top. I even called my roommate to tell her how daring I was and that I didn't even care that they didn't match!

From there, moving to NYC, you truly don't care. I went out for coffee in my pjs and snow boots. I lived in Mexican house dresses and Havaianas. I was happy and confident every day. Fashion was my way of life and I lived it well.

Then I let myself get beat down emotionally by a controlling and manipulative boy. I moved to Dallas where fashion is anything but people's passion. It's a homogenous city where standing out is never done and real fashion happens a couple years late every single trend.

Not me anymore. Not today. I've asked the boy which earrings or which shoes or wanted his approval every morning for a year. Not anymore. Today I truly feel me - my uber-favorite tiger print mohair ballet flats with the black bow, my chambray dress romper from Paris, my Shopbop feather necklace, my vintage "grandma" earrings and my Urban straw fedora. I would be confident in any major city, here or abroad. And though I may garner glances here in Big D, I smile because it means I'm back to me.

One Year Ago

Holy crizzity! It's been a year. One year ago next Friday I opened the doors. (Scotty would be so upset I didn't say "we"). This place doesn't even look the same. It's unbelievable how much we've grown! Somewhere in there the store has done phenomenal, it's truly successful, and I have personally fallen apart.

I've put everything I have - actual blood, sweat and many many tears - into this last year to get where we are and in the meantime have lost touch with friends, broken down a relationship, parted ways even with my parents a bit and lost and re-found myself. It's the re-finding part that makes me so happy.

I've had a saying in my bedroom forever - Things fall apart so that things can fall together. I fell apart and now I'm coming back together. I opened up my old laptop from 2 years ago and went through all the pictures and couldn't believe the person I saw. There was this bold, happy beautiful girl that was confident, loving, supported, friendly and outgoing. I forgot about her. It's about time she made an appearance again. The most important things about her were her faith and her support system. So Plan Find Me begins with more commitment to getting up Sunday morning and finding a small group and investing in my own happiness. And in that, I get the feeling my broken down relationship will find a bandaid.

One year. Geesh.