See here’s the thing – I love to go out. I love to dance and drink and wind up eating breakfast at 3 AM laughing over the events of the evening. Problem is that I just can’t do it anymore without having a 2 day recovery period.

I think it happened around 2008. Suddenly Fridays weren’t so much about getting the weekend started as they were about ending the week. I couldn’t wait to be home with my significant other on the sofa, wearing leggings, catching up on bad reality TV and eating Thai food. I was excited to wake up unprompted by an alarm Saturday morning to go to accomplish whatever errand/flea market/farmers market/yoga class/dry cleaning run awaited me. I was an adult! I couldn’t stay out late, I had things to do. Adults went to bed at the same time every night (always remembering to brush their teeth!), woke up at the same time every morning, always did laundry on Sundays and performed the same exercise routine every Monday, Wednesday & Friday at 6:30 AM. I had figured it out, I was on the path!

Until I wasn’t. I was bored. Because as much as I thought I was being regimented and focused, I was also ignoring an entire part of myself. The spontaneous, creative and curious side – the side that loves being the last table in the restaurant when the chef comes out and has a drink with you. The side that didn’t care if the towels were folded, or the dishwasher unloaded. The side that knows that yoga is also at 11, or 1 or 3. Or tomorrow.

And I realized that while every party is not worth attending and every invitation does not deserve a yes, there are some things that though aren’t on my To Do list that need to be done. Like wandering Edgewood Ave at 3:00 AM in search of food, helping a friend reorganize her closet after one too many bottles of wine or having an impromptu dance party with your god children when they are supposed to be in bed. Because that’s what being an adult is about. Getting things done, but having fun doing it. And I’m cool with that.

As long as I have 2 days to recover.

Live Well.


Back to Basics


The crisp sunny days, the nippy nights. It’s time to put away the tank tops and summer dresses (sigh) and break out the cozy knits and scarves. Exciting. We always start planning our Fall wardrobes in July and one of the things we look forward to most is the J. Crew Fall catalog. Forget The September Issue – we’re about the Fall Issue. J. Crew has been our go to store for as long as we’ve known each other. Sometimes a bit highbrow, sometimes a bit hippie, we both shop there with abandon, getting great fitting, well designed reasonably priced pieces. Usually we end up with the same thing, but wear it in totally different ways so it’s great fun to shop together. We often get asked “I love your sweater/jacket/pants/bag! Where’d you get it?” The answer is usually, J.Crew. The go to basic shop with a twist. If you haven’t checked them out – take the time to do so. If you are already a J. Crew shopper did you know about the Collection Shop on Madison Ave in NY?

Here’s some of the things we’re crushing on for Fall.


Wool Crepe V Neck $198
Harper Suede Boot $298
Minnie Bi-stretch Wool Pant
in Camel & Carbon $118
Collection Officers Jacket $495
Silk Pintuck Blouse $128


2750 Superga Classic Sneakers $65 Collection Cashmere Isabel Sweatshirt $320 Everly Suede Pumps $245 Bryce Boots $348
Nili Lotan Cashmere Turtleneck $455
Etta Pumps $350
Collection Peacoat $485


Invitation Clutch $448

Blonde Ambition


Beyonce, I am not. Before I was ever bequeathed a liscense to color hair professionally, I was quite the dorm room aspiring colorist. After years under the watchful eye of my “you will not do anything crazy to your hair” mother, I got to college and lost my mind. My new happy place became the beauty supply store. Oh the possibilities! My 18 year old self would basically be my nightmare client now. Besides, blonde (err..more like orange), my hair had stints as black, brown, auburn and green, a result of not knowing that I couldn’t just put brown dye on top of bleached out hair. It’s a miracle I left college with any hair at all..

So I found it funny when I had an “aha” moment as a professional colorist with my many blonde clients. You see, when I moved to LA, the blondes there were just, different. They took the term blonde ambition to the next level. Whereas the blondes in NYC strived to be discreet, elegant and age appropriate; the blondes in LA would march in with pictures of themselves as babies in hand, wanting to turn back the clock to achieve the “toe head” locks of their youth. Some took it beyond by bringing in pictures of their kids, or to my horror, the actual kid. I can’t tell you the number of times I had a little person ordered to “sit still for Mommy so that Kadi can see exactly the color she needs to do”. I thought, holy shit, I’m in Never Never Land with an endless parade of Wendys! But then, things changed when my close friend gave birth to the most angelic, cherubic blonde babies, who have become my unofficial niece and nephew, and it finally clicked.

In all of my personal experimentation, my ultimate goal was to try and emulate the hair color I had as a baby. It was the perfect shade of golden auburn, and suited my complexion so well. And in the end, what I try to encourage in my clients, and anyone thinking of taking the plunge into coloring their hair, is to stay close to what we were all given at birth, because very few of us are lucky enough to be color chameleons a la Linda Evangelista.
This weekend my nephew turned 4, and I spent most of the weekend sticking a camera in his hair, eager to recreate his perfect combination of wheat and golden blonde highlights on my clients. I’ll never have blonde ambition again for myself, but I can certainly appreciate naturally gorgeous hair color. So, yes, I stand humbly corrected. If you’re thinking of coloring your hair soon, whatever the shade, bring on the baby pictures, or better yet, bring the kid.

A special thank you to Eugenia Kuzmina.


Summer Made Me Fat. Denim Doctors Is Making Me Skinny.


I mean, the tops did, but the bottoms? Not so much. You see, this summer was christened “The Summer of Fun” by Kadi and myself and we certainly didn’t let ourselves down. And while it was super fun, it made me super fat. After a week I was finally able to squeeze into one of my favorite pairs of jeans – a Paris flea market find that I have treasured for the past 12 years. I was feeling better about myself – good even – until a few hours later when I plopped down in my seat and the upper thigh ripped open. And the knee. Damn. Guess I have to exercise…again. Or buy new jeans. Cue Denim Doctors, my go to spot for denim repair and alterations.

I called them up, shipped those babies out and a few days later got a phone call from Jason to discuss the repairs. He was awesome, telling me how to best repair the rip (invisible stitching!) and how to reinforce the weak areas to prevent any future mishaps. This was not this pair of jeans first time at this shop. They were totally restyled by these guys in 2001 – going from what was once an awkward fitting pair of jeans with great coloring and a great flare – to the kick ass rockstar jeans they are today. These guys have been around since 1994 – handling jean repair for Ralph Lauren (the man, as well as the store!) and there is no better place to send your favorite denim. Check out what they did for mine. I’m glad that they’re back, but the works not finished. Now that the holes are covered, there’s less room for ahem….expansion. That means I still have a few pounds to go, but I’m using these as my inspiration.


Day One


The journey of our friendship started as sales associates at the same clothing store in Atlanta, where we both attended Spelman College. We went our separate ways, traversing through grad school in Paris and a move back home to Connecticut, before running into each other, literally, on Madison Avenue each not knowing that the other resided in the same Brooklyn neighborhood. The friendship blossomed through our twenties, a time we fondly recall as “the lean years”. These years really set the groundwork on who we were, and what kind of women we were to be. We learned that though one may be to the manor born, real lessons of grace, style and beauty are learned when funds are tight and you have to improvise on the fly. We both were born to strong parents who insisted on hard work instead of handouts. And we wouldn’t have it any other way. Our friendship has survived moves all over the world, and we pride ourselves on being there for one another regardless of physical distance. We love the dichotomy that exists in the lives we have created and believe that the sum of our whole is greater than our individual parts. We have forged similar paths in the beauty industry, one as a thriving and successful entrepreneur and business owner, the other as a leading celebrity colorist for one of the largest salons in the world. Along the way, we have attempted to always stay true to who we are. We are random, we are unpredictable, we are a mix of high and low. Highbrow Hippies.

Shout outs to everyone who helped us get this thing up and running after a year (yes, a year!!) of talking about it.

First – a great big shout to the universe for letting us do what we do and allowing us to interact with so many cool people and things. We are blessed and lucky. Gratitude first.

To Leela Hoehn – an awesome designer and all around cool person for coming up with the foundation for such a great logo. As my former assistant she knows me well and nailed it the first time. Sadly she left me to do her own thing, but I couldn’t be prouder of her. Check out some of her awesome stuff in her Etsy store.

To John Saviano who helped us with the technical stuff because clearly that is not our forte. He listened to us prattle on about lipsticks and travel, food and fashion and never complained. Even when we asked him the lamest questions. A true gentleman. Find out more about him here.