People find such beautiful things. Why can’t I find butterflies on the ceiling? And divinely arranged purple artichokes? And wrapping paper that looks like it should be hung in a museum? And kitchens that leave me broken and wanting, a shell of my former self?
Why can’t I be surrounded by such glamorous things, just covered in sheaths of cashmere and Chinese silk, until I’m positively drowning in turquoise crystals and gold-embossed mirrors and hunched-over models with sour expressions, and choking on bits of pearl and amber and it’s glamour! lodged in my throat and I can’t breath and when did this sentence take such a dark and deadly turn?
Did This is Glamorous just try to kill me? I think it did. Continue reading at your own risk.
I love following The Trail* and ending up somewhere entirely unexpected. Of course, then I inevitably think I’ve stumbled upon something rare and little-seen and I’m convinced I’m a genius only to eagerly scroll down and see a pretty substantial list of “Media & Mentions” there in the corner.
I’m embarrassed to say this happens more often than I’d like. (And that is Danielle from ANTM and I am kind of freaking out now because I love her. Look at you, girl! All pretty and sitting still like that. Good for you.)
Anyway, TiG is a lovely place to visit if you’ve got a few second to spare in between nappies and spreadsheets. And martinis. And donuts. Oh, Glamorous- you had me at that header picture. I just want to crawl onto that shelf, next to those glossy, white suitcases and take a long nap. Somebody wake me when the Real Housewives of Orange County is back? When the world is once again as it should be? Thanks.
* The Blog Trail, of course. You goose.