Hungover, I cursed the courier who rang my doorbell early this morning, waking me up. I cursed my husband who’s order of printer paper was no doubt the cause of this disturbance to my (much, much, much needed) beauty sleep. Oh how wrong I was! Instead of dull stationary I was the joyful recipient of a copy of the gorgeous Italian edtion of Confessions of a Fashionista titled, I Love Fashion. Like the sexiest Italian sports cars I went from grumpy to gleeful in 0.2 seconds. I could have kissed the courier. Luckily for him I resisted, nobody wants to be embraced by an old t-shirt wearing walking hair ball with morning breath. Now the super stylish Italians are on the case I’ll have to buck up my ideas. Shopping trip to Milan, anyone?
