If there’s one question I get more than anything else, it’s where I get my rugs. In emails, Instagram comments, Instagram story replies, and everywhere in between, there is almost always someone who is curious about where I shop for the colorful, patterned rugs that are in pretty much every home in my room. And […]
There is nothing I love more than a great jumpsuit. It’s a one-stop recipe for feeling great about yourself. And, honestly, wearing a jumpsuit is a power move. Don’t feel like matching a top and pants, but still want to feel like a badass? Perfect. Don’t feel like having the ability to easily and quickly […]
This post kicks off my Just One More Thing series, where I’ll be talking about one more thing I think everyone needs in their lives — all things I love completely and totally. No exceptions.
Until very recently, I believed flossing was stupid. Sure, my dentist told me I needed to for most of my life and I had like 19,000 rouge floss picks in my medicine cabinet that I wasn’t using. But still. For about 15 years, I just would rather my gums bleed profusely every time I went into for teeth cleaning rather than make myself floss daily. And then… I discovered Coco Floss. And my god, now I am a flossing apologist. I would stand on a street corner and talk about how Coco Floss saved me if I could. OK, it didn’t save me. But it did save my gums. And I love it.
Truthfully, I can almost gauge how I’m doing mentally and emotionally by how much time I spend on my nightly routine. If I’m cutting out steps and ignoring the skin care rituals I’ve come to love, something is almost always off with me. Usually this means I’m feeling anxious, down, or distracted. Forcing myself to get back into the routine ultimately helps me focus on myself, feel good, and take time to pamper myself a little. We all need that.
When I was a child, I very specifically wanted to be one of two things when I grew up: a country music singer or female NFL referee. As time passed, a few key things happened that shifted my interests. With time and the wisdom that only years 8 through 12 of your life can bring, I realized that I couldn’t sing, wasn’t southern, and, like absolutely zero other children I knew, I lost my fascination with officiating football games. Once my totally unrealistic dreams were dismissed, I settled on a more traditional, yet equally unrealistic career goal: I wanted to work in fashion and beauty. This dream was paired with the Devil Wears Prada-inspired notion that, of course, that job would n
It’s 4 p.m. on a Sunday. You’ve happily wasted the morning, flipping through Fixer Upper re-runs, wondering if you too could someday live in a farm in Waco, Texas (you decide yes, but are still unsure if you could care for goats — you will return to this thought later). You were going to work out, but the only clean workout clothes are those yoga pants you really hate, so you decide to put it off until tomorrow. And suddenly it hits you, a natural instinct so powerful that you’re completely sure you need to turn off the TV and get in your car immediately, Chip & JoJo be damned. You know, deep in your soul, one thing and one thing only: You have to go to Target.