Next weekend I’m hijacking my girlfriend’s bacherlorette weekend with her sister-in-law to Jackson Hole. Now, I’ve never been one to wear mis-matched socks, but my friend Amanda oozes style. She rocks an Hermes cuff with her snap-legged yoga pants like nobody’s business. When we hang she’s Blair Warner to my Natalie Green. Except Nat and Blair are allowed to consume copious amounts of champagne in these episodes.
Although I don’t leave for another 4 days, I’m usually pretty much packed by now with a complete list of hour by hour (sleeping and waking) wardrobe changes (yes i see a shrink, and yes she’s on speed dial.) I’m using the following to inspire me:
But who am i kidding??!? I don’t know how to fish!?! Amanda in nature?!??! Fishing poles in our hands??!! It’d be like two monkeys fucking a football (thanks mom for that gem.) No, no, no…….I’m thinking shiatsu, bloody mary’s for breakfast, coffee by the fire, traipsing the village square with mugs of hot chocolate, and gourmet meals ruined by our uproarious laughter at the next table.
Mr Lauren’s 2009 fall line had some plucky duds I could see myself stomping around town making merriment: