Anyone who knows me, knows my deeply unhealthy obsession with Sarah Jessica Parker, aka SJP. I have always felt she was my spirit animal and forever my fashion icon. If you knew me in middle school, you could testify to that statement. I was the only person in braces who deemed it necessary to wear ostrich feathers and one shoulder tops with big flower pins on them and thought I could not have been more chic #awkwardstage. Many people just think my obsession stems from the “Carrie Bradshaw” factor which is partially true. But beyond that, SJP has one of the most vibrant, eclectic and unapologetic personal styles of all time – and she is bff with my fave super gay Andy Cohen. She will wear an acorn on her head, sequins to the market, feathers for days all while looking like it aint no thang but an SJP thang. A definite “more is more” kind of girl and baby likey
She knows what she likes, knows her body and probably just wears whatever the fuck she wants as she SHOULD because she is a legend. Can we just discuss her Met Gala outfit last year? I almost cried – she is so fucking cool. I have gotten in serious arguments defending her honor with friends of mine who criticize her looks and even worse her outfit choices. Ive put together some SJP inspired looks (minus the SJP price tags) for a new Wednesday fashion delight outfitting you for a wedding/work/ and the weekend. This first look is trademark Carrie Bradshaw, I personally live for a tutu. I thought we could modernize it Haute Mess style by adding the sequin crop top. I would wear this yesterday,today and tomorrow despite the occasion! The second SJP look is very work appropriate while still over the top in the most understated way. I love how simple this outfit is but still so exciting due to the bright color blocking. SJP is to the Met Gala, what I am to the imported cheese section of my supermarket. This bitch always turns it out and I used two of my fave looks of hers. Naturally it would be pretty fucking ostentatious to try and work a plaid thigh high boot around town so I incorporated the plaid pattern and a solid thigh high boot to keep it slightly more wearable. SJP keep doing you girl, and I will be creepily admiring from a distance. Love you boo.
HOLY BALLS. This is our first (and hopefully last) giveaway of the Summer. I want to reach 50,000 followers by yesterday and to do that I need some serious reader promotion. Think of this as a pimp and ho situation. I am the pimp and you all could be my well compensated and respectfully treated ho’s. Please Facebook share, tweet, instagram, body paint, graffiti, tattoo your ass with this site and you will be entered to win the super sexy Haute Mess Life gift basket which is pretty fucking great if you ask me. Use the hashtag #hautemesslife or #hautemesslife.com and I will do a live drawing to see who wins the following goodies.
HAUTE MESS LIFE GIFT BASKET
- My favorite F21 $9.99 jeans is YOUR SIZE (Haute Mess Obsessions)
(or if you are a Haute Mess Man I will send a semi nude photo of one of my hot friends!)
- Bottle of Ketel One (Haute Mess Happy Hour)
- Jar of Garlic Stuffed Olive Juice
- Clinique Lipgloss in Black Honey (Haute Mess Beauty)
(or if you are a Haute Mess Man I will send a top of the line chapstick)
- Mereadesso Body Balm (my new favorite body lotion – this has saved my skin)
- 1 Slim Jim
- Season 1 DVD of Sex and The City (it’s used… I have 2 copies. YOU’RE WELCOME!)
Can someone say GIFT BASKET BONER?!? Now go share, share, share and you can soon be a certified Haute Mess. Remember you can follow blog via email by entering your email address and then click follow on the column to the right ———-> (one chromosome away). You can ALSO like Haute Mess Life on FACEBOOK by clicking the icon also located to the right. Duh. How can anybody not like a Slim Jim? Uhhhhhhhmazing.
Having your heart broken is the worst feeling in the world. Imagine someone punching you in the ovary at 3 minute intervals while stabbing you in the heart AND taking an emotional dump on your face at the same time while playing Sinead O’Connor “Nothing Compares To You” as you hysterically cry in your pajamas. That is what being dumped feels like. How will I ever feel better? Will we be able to be friends? What if they start seeing someone else? Have they already met someone else? Are they as devastated as I am? Will I find a hott rebound? What is wrong with me? All these questions running through our brains only to leave us feeling insecure, weak, pathetic and desperately wanting a stiff drink. You love them, you hate them, you miss them, you want to hire a hitman… so confusing. When I was dumped, I laid in the fetal position for about 4 days while watching back to back Sex and The City episodes and didn’t tell a soul. I didn’t eat, didn’t sleep and didn’t speak. One perk of a break up is that is amazing for your figure. It’s called an involuntary diet plan – kind of like tape worm or a stomach virus #glasshalffull. I was embarrassed and felt too vulnerable to explain what happened to anybody. It was horrible going through it alone and being plagued by my own psychoanalysis of what the fuck happened. After 4 days of hibernation I finally told my best friends and parents. I am no Meryl Streep and couldn’t keep the chipper charade going on for much longer. To anyone outside of my circle I pretended everything was super and that it was totally mutual! Definitely not the case, but hey, girl had to save face! I was only 18 and looking back I can’t believe I was that heartbroken from a high school relationship. As we get older relationships are naturally more serious and complex, thus making break ups 85,000 times more difficult. Surely there is no finite way to deal with a break up but there are definitely things to ease the pain. I wish I got my head out of my own ass when I was younger and called my best friends. Being alone during a break up is the worst solution. Surround yourself with your best friends. People that will make you drinks, point out your ex’s flaws, make you laugh and distract you! Distraction is key. One of my best friends went through a break up and we spent all day talking (even LAUGHING) having cocktails, eating cheese and cookie dough and reminding her how (truly) fucking fabulous she is.
It’s hard to understand how someone you love so much could make you feel so shitty and that is what makes it all so difficult. It’s even worse when you never saw it coming. Break-up? Is that a joke? Realistically how do you NOT lose your shit when you are blind sighted. Without any sign’s how the hell are you supposed to end up at the same destination? One person ends up in Bali and the other ends up in fucking Pacoima. Being around people that love you is one of the most effective pain relievers. Trust me. Allow yourself 3 days to bask in your own misery then it’s time to get it together. Fluff your hair, finally take a shower, throw out your empty alcohol bottles and try to focus on the most important relationship, the one you have with yourself. Obviously this is easier said than done. Sure, you will still want to cry at every song on the radio and want to run over every couple walking along the street but that is inevitable. Break ups suck but with time everything gets better. It’s really not you, it’s them. Slightly delusional but hell, it feels better then thinking it’s you (and it’s probably them).
I will just come out and say it… I fucking hate to work out. Whenever I hear girls talk about how much they LOVE the gym and then boast about their 6am run with the hashtag #fitness I have to actively control myself not to vom. “Nothing tastes as good as skinny feels!” HAVE YOU EVER HAD A FUCKING BIG MAC? Whoever came up with that is a total dumbass. I am supposed to believe you would rather be at the gym, sweating your ass off in front of gross tank top wearing men than lying in bed with a plate of bacon watching Sex and The City re-runs? Bull shit. You know where I get my cardio in? The Barney’s Warehouse Sale…talk about an adrenaline rush. I have practically half nelson-ed a bitch for reaching for the same Alexander Wang tank top as me. I like to think of myself as the Tanya Harding of all major retail shops. I’m small(ish) but I am scrappy.
I figure I am young enough to be able to maintain a deceivingly “fit” physique without exercise so what would be the incentive? (it’s called SPANX) I know, I know, it’s for my “HEALTH”. I eat Kale like a mother fucker, shop with the athleticism of an olympian and on top of all that, I’m batshit crazy and with all that unnecessary brain flow/panic attacks I HAVE to be burning extra calories. Anyways, my boyfriend is all gun-ho on starting an exercise regime together so I am trying to be supportive and get back in the swing of things. I have purchased an embarrassing abundance of excersise/dance dvds, workout gear and even a Tony Little GAZELLE (I’m not joking…) I have decided to enroll us in some very questionable group classes and am hoping I will be able to hold it together. Expect plentiful updates/evidence and more than anything WISH ME LUCK!
Well kittens, this mess is headed oversees. Tomorrow I will be popping Benadryl PM like tic-tacs and having a stiff dirty martini to hopefully induce a balls out comatose for my 13 hour flight to Edinburgh. My boyfriend and I will be in Scotland with our close friends to start, the jet off to Paris for some alone time . After that we will finish the trip off in London town. To say I am excited is an understatement (it’s my boyfriends and I’s 2 year anniversarry- Im sorry for the mush, I know #gag) I am one of those annoying tourists that goes above and beyond to seem like a local. I won’t carry a map, refuse to use the English menu (not a great move if you are a picky eater- I have accidentally ordered/feasted on PIGEON before ) and go above and beyond to embrace the countries fashion trends. Last time I went to Europe I REALLY missed the mark. I had always dreamt of going to Paris, I felt it was the land of all things me; Bread, cheese, wine, amazing shopping, efficient public transportation, universal rudeness and more. I thought I was Carrie-fucking-Bradshaw gallivanting through Paris in 5 inch heels, sequined clothing, loud colors, feathers, polka dots (I don’t even like polka dots) getting hit by Alexander Petrovsky (Sex and The City reference…#superfan) I even went and bought a fake lit cigarette from a gas station in LA that I carried around pretending to smoke. That is not a joke, I ACTUALLY did that. Everyone looked at me like I was such a loser and rightfully so. The French hated me. For part duex I have decided to keep it simple… Lots of black, lots of white and lots of leather (Sorry PETA)
Way too much time on my hands…SO Parisian!
I will be doing my best to keep posting while I am there. Hopefully, I won’t get into too much trouble… but if I do, Ill be sure to get it on camera! If you never hear from me again it’s either I ate myself into Kirstie-Alleyism or I have ran off with a French prince (joking Andy…kinda) XOXO