If I won the lotto, I would treat myself to this super chic Stella Mccartney Safari Jacket. It's made in Italy, and made for yours truly. I'm short, so normal sized trenches make me look like a cross between Boris from Rocky and Bullwinkle and Danny Devito. Stella's is petite, just like me. Plus, it'll be perfect to surprise my next boyfriend with on Valentine's Day wearing nothing underneath...Yeah, I know Valentine's Day is nine months away. Back off, I think ahead.

What the hell, since I just spent $1595 on a posh coat, I might as well throw in the matching Floral Slip Dress for $1095. I am a lotto winner after all. It'll be worth it. Now that I finally own some Stella, I won't have to scream her name out longingly on those long, hot New Orleans nights. The neighbors will be pleased.

*Keepin' it in the trenches,

sammy

Posted by Samara at 09:00 PM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

It's pretty sad when a group of high school trust fund babies have a better wardrobe than you do. Watching Gossip Girl's Upper East Side socialites traipse around Manhattan in Versace and Dolce and Gabbana is enough to make me call Bravo tv's Millionaire Matchmaker for some sugardaddy prospects.

Enough about the clothes, here's the rundown...

Gossip gets put on hold while the kids prep for the SAT's. Unfortunately for Serena, a blast from the past in the form of Georgina Sparks threatens to seriously impair her math/verbal scores. Played by Michelle Trachtenberg, (former vampire slaying Buffy sis) Georgie doesn't jive with Serena's new spitting clean image and resorts to spiking her gal pal's drink so she won't be the only underaged bad girl left on Park Avenue.

Serena misses the big test, but not-so-evil stepbrother Chuck saves the day by scoring a redheaded SAT proxy for her. S closes the door on G for good and all seems well until Georgie shows up in Central Park making a play for Serena's boy Dan. The plot thickens...By the way, is it just me or did Jenny Humphrey grow two feet since they've been on hiatus?

So many designer clothes...so many they'll grow out of by summer...

*Keepin' the gossip flowing,

xoxo,

sammygirl

Posted by Samara at 03:30 PM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

They shared the screen (and saliva) with John Malkovich in Dangerous Liaisons, as well as matching bobs and swingin' dance moves in Pulp Fiction and Scarface...Today let's raise a glass and celebrate the births of the lovely Uma Thurman and Michelle Pfeiffer. We love you ladies, and the emotionally complex, coked up characters you play.

So I say happy birthday to my little friends...party hard, and hopefully neither of you will need an adrenaline shot to the heart after celebrating.

*Keepin' the birthday candles lit,

sammy

Posted by Samara at 08:04 AM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

We interrupt this blog to bring you an important trend alert. You shouldn't panic, nor should you rest easy. This is an orange alert. Stay where you are as we continue to bring you up-to-date information on whether this trend poses an imminent threat to the homeland.

Reportedly seen on twenty/thirty something girls everywhere, insiders report that it is now cool to tie ribbons around your head like a Pochahontas flower power love child.

Spotted on subjects Lindsay Lohan, Molly Sims, Stefanie Pratt of The Hills, the girls in the Urban Outfitters catalog, and that weird Amis girl who got booted off America's Next Top Model.

The Hair band Security Advisory System urges us to continue to be vigilant, take notice of our surroundings, and report suspicious hair band activity to local authorities immediately. Establish an emergency preparedness kit and emergency plan for yourself and for your family should you find yourself or a loved one contemplating tying one on, succumbing to the madness.

Do not fret. I repeat, do not fret. We shall get through this together, as fashion conscious Americans. Let us crown thy good with brotherhood (instead of hair bands) from sea to shining sea. If we survived bell bottoms, shoulder pads, and Lara Flynn Boyle's fashion faux pas...we can get through anything.

*Keepin' you orange alerted,

sammy

Posted by Samara at 08:00 PM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

It's getting warmer outside, and you know what that means...out with the cute multicolored tights and in with the self-tanner. It's barely Spring and you're already catching glimpses of stars baring all, and not just on their celebrity sex tapes.

Take Jessica Simpson and her archrival Vanessa Minnillo wearing what can only be described as some itsy bitsy teenie weenie denim faded-wash shortkinis. Those shorts are short. Seriously. It makes me wonder if Vanessa and Jess are in the middle of some kind of bizarre Short Off competition, like the infamous Dance Offs we hear about involving Britney, Justin, and all the other mouseketeers turned celebrities.

I myself would never dare wear shorts that short. 1- I don't use Nair, and 2 - I wouldn't be able to shake the feeling I was in public wearing really stiff, uncomfortable panties. To take the Daisy Duke debate a step further, I wonder...are Vanessa and Jessica battling it out for media attention? For Nick's attention?...Each other's attention? I'm probably speculating too much. Maybe they just had a really good sale at Gap Kids. Whatever the reason, I'm guessing the showdown is just beginning.

It's already been broughten.

*Keepin' it covered,

sammy

Posted by Samara at 09:26 PM | Permalink | Comments (2) | TrackBacks (0)

I was flipping through my new Nylon magazine the other day and I came across a two page spread featuring the new Guess girl, who anyone can tell at first glance is the spitting image of Italian goddess Sophia Loren. The ad was arty...black and white... sophisticated, much like Sophia herself. Very classic, cool. No rants here, like i've had with other weird ass ad campaigns of late.

My mind drifted as I recalled other classic Guess ads, topping the list: the quintessential Anna Nicole Smith campaign that first put her on the map (and in the centerfold of Playboy) before she went cuckoo for cocoa puffs marrying that dude who was older than Moses's grandpappy.

In those ads Anna Nicole was Marilyn Monroe reincarnated. A mixture of old Hollywood glamour, and bad girl sexuality that enticed men and women alike. I started to wonder, is this new Guess girl going to become as famous as Anna Nicole? Will she be famous for resembling Sophia the way Anna resembled Marilyn, or because her beauty stands on it's own? Will she follow the same path ending in a sad, untimely death?

Good tidings to you Guess girl. I hope you have a long career ahead of you with no Guess curses to contend with. A few words of advice- don't marry a man who remembers listening to FDR's Fireside chats, and stay away from Howard Stern...radio talk show Howard is fine.

*Keepin' guessin',

sammy

Posted by Samara at 05:10 AM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

If I won the lottery I would:

1- feed all the hungry children.
2- find a cure for cancer.
3- find a cure for aids.
4- buy this Marc Jacobs quilted pouch.

...Because after feeding all the hungry children and curing aids and cancer, I'll need a classy clutch for my date at the White House to receive my Good Humanitarian medal from the President (ahem, new President)...or at least some hot guy had better take me out for cocktails.

*Keepin' it charitable,

sammy

Posted by Samara at 11:49 AM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

Mischa Barton has been the Keds cover girl for quite some time now. Since 2005 I believe, the height of the OC days when Marissa Cooper was doing drugs, lesbians, and other things that ultimate got her killed off before the last season.

And now, the only time I see her face besides on the occasional what was she thinking worst-dressed list (looking like a cross between Axel Rose and Janis Joplin) is when it's plastered on another Keds ad. All I can think is man...they must be paying her a hell of a lot of money.

I mean, Keds are cool, sure...Baby wore them in Dirty Dancing, and no one put her in the corner for it. I wore them in sixth grade. But I bet you my last few lotto buy items...Mischa wouldn't wear Keds if she weren't contractually obligated to. In fact, if it were up to her (with no legal ramifications of course) I'd go as far to say she'd rather barf under a bed like back in her old Sixth Sense days with Haley Joel Osmet, then slip on another pair of boat shoes.

Now I don't have anything against Keds, really. Keds are cute. In an OsKosh B'Gosh kind of way. I just can't grasp the concept of a celeb it girl coveting a $20-$30 pair of sneakers when she can wear these. It's like hearing Catherine Zeta Jones uses a tub of Vaseline for moisturizer instead of Creme de la Mer. I'm just not buyin' it. The Creme de La Mer either.

*Keepin' it real,

sammy

Posted by Samara at 01:00 AM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

I wish I were rich and skinny enough to wear True Religion's Rich & Skinny jeans. They're on sale at eluxury for $159 (marked down from $216) plus free standard shipping on orders of $150 or more. That'll make you at least $57 richer. I can't help ya with the skinny part.

Do you think the folks at True Religion have a Middle Class & Stumpy jean? If so, I'm on it.

*Keepin' it short and stumpy,

sammy

Posted by Samara at 08:47 PM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

You might have heard about the Tinseltown scandal involving the much hyped Michel Gondry Deborah Harry biopic. Apparently many die hard Blondie fans disapprove of Kirsten Dunst playing the punk fem rocker icon. I say, leave Kirsten alone. She's proven time and time again she can Bring it On, and she can kiss superheroes who are upside down really convincingly. What more can you want from an actress?

Granted, you were probably hoping for someone who could sing. Sure, Gwen Stefani would probably have been my first choice, but Kirsten has other talents. She can eat cake for one like in Marie Antoinette, she can make Mona Lisa Smile, and she's won Wimbledon. Just put some faith in her and her blonde roots, because if I know Hollywood, Ms. Dunst has the box office draw, so this movie is happening. Hopefully she'll win you over...one way, or another...she's gonna get ya get ya get ya get ya.

*Keepin' it blondie,

sammy

Posted by Samara at 01:30 AM | Permalink | Comments (3) | TrackBacks (0)

You know you've officially arrived in Hollywood when you own your first pair of Christian Louboutin heels. Dudes, stop reading here. No offense but you just won't get it. Christian Louboutin heels are like Porsches for your feet. The holy grail of fashionable footwear, Louboutins have achieved a major cult following among Hollywood's elite making appearances on red carpets, awards shows, and on a plethora of best dressed lists. Yes, I said plethora. It was my vocab word of the day.

The signature red soles have been spotted on the stems of many a Hollywood siren - Cameron, Madonna, Angelina, Mandy, and Gwyneth to name a few... Hell, even Oprah claims to wear them them every day when she tapes her show. In fact, I bet that's how Barack got her to endorse him so strongly...by tossing some Louboutins her way.

If I had a million dollars... I would buy myself these Christian Louboutin Zip-Up Platform Sandals.

They're only $995, which is a steal for Louboutins...so in theory I would still have a big hunk of cash leftover. Too bad I'll need the other $999,005 to pay off my hospital bills when I break every bone in my body trying to walk in them.

Beauty hurts. Keep walking.

*Keepin' both feet on the ground,

sammy

Posted by Samara at 12:50 PM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

There aren't that many fashion-themed television shows on air, and with Project Runway on hiatus (probably because Heidi is having Seal's triplets) you're going to have to settle for a rundown of last night's episode of the Hills.

This wasn't a favorite episode of mine. The three major plot points were:

1. Heidi infiltrating LC's table at GAO Nightclub.
2. The Return of Justin Bobby.
3. The Hills girls deciding to get a house together.

1. We've seen it before...Heidi Montag's feeble attempt at hogging camera time. Wouldn't your time be better served filming another horrid beach video than sitting at a table where you're not wanted? At this point, Heidi is like herpes. She just won't go away.

2. Audrina went to dinner with her ex Justin Bobby, and he didn't burp once. Who said men don't change?

3. It's settled. Lauren, Audrina, and fellow Laguna Beach alum Lo are going to move into a house together. Read the contracts carefully girls, Heidi may already be living in the attic.

Spencer's camera time was limited thank goodness, but during the 4 minutes he was on screen I had an insatiable urge to poke him in the eyes Three Stooges style.

And these are the days of The Hills lives...

*Keepin' it real,

sammy

Posted by Samara at 10:58 PM | Permalink | Comments (2) | TrackBacks (0)

Confession...I have a love/hate relationship with hats.

Ever since my 17th birthday when the señoritas at Chi-Chi's Mexican restaurant forced a giant sombrero onto my head and took incriminating photos, I've had a phobia.

Don't get me wrong. I love hats. Wide brimmed, skull caps, cowboy, pork pie. Debbie Gibson was my style icon for all three years of middle school for God's sake. I can still do the Electric Youth dance. I am not a hat hater. I think hats are a fantastic throwback to classic times when gloves and fancy headwear were staples, and they look great on everyone else...but me.

I wish I could wear them gracefully à la Ash, and the Olsen twins...but whenever I try, I end up looking more like a poor man's Duckie from Pretty in Pink than my girl Sienna Miller. You don't even wanna hear about the time I attempted a trucker cap.

So if you gotta have headgear this Spring, hat's off to you. Just a word of advice... If you're going to succumb to the trend, find one that suits you and compliments your noggin'.

Oh, and don't go to Chi-Chi's for your birthday.

*Keepin' my head naked,

sammy

Posted by Samara at 09:22 AM | Permalink | Comments (3) | TrackBacks (0)

I saw a woman at the movies the other day. She was, how do I put this delicately...Well, she was someone's Nana. She seemed very sweet clutching her bag of home popped microwave popcorn, but get this - Nana was wearing a denim miniskirt with a frayed hem and a tube top with the word Hollister stretched across her chest. For those of you who don't know, Hollister is the trendy, young, hip love child of Abercrombie and Fitch and American Eagle Outfitters. Did I mention young?

Priding themselves on being California chic, they feature clothing you would normally see on Summer Roberts and Marissa Cooper on reruns of the OC. I always assumed Hollister, Abercrombie, and American Eagle were brands geared toward the 14-18 young adult demographic...but here was Nana in all her glory, looking like she had just left Laguna Beach and her boogie board behind.

They say that clothes make the man. If the same rings true for women...do young clothes make the woman younger? Or vice versa? I could only ask myself, in true Carrie Bradshaw form, how old is too old to be wearing young people clothing?

Granted, I am guilty of wearing an occasional Hollister tank top myself, but I would also get carded at a Hillary Duff concert. I would never go near the short shorts and ruffled skirts display, but I imagine the blue haired beauties at Nana's nursing home would, fighting over matching Fletcher Cove polos and Boomer Beach hoodies like they were winning bingo cards.

I guess age is a state of mind and you should wear whatever makes you feel comfortable and good inside. So go on Nana with your bad self.

I bet Sol and Morty at Century Village ain't complaining.

*Keepin' it my age,

sammy

Posted by Samara at 07:06 AM | Permalink | Comments (1) | TrackBacks (0)

You love to travel. The in-flight movies, the tiny pillows that make you feel like mini-me...Calling the flight attendants stewardesses just to piss them off. What you don't like, is losing your stuff.

You- "But my passport was just here a second ago, I swear!!"

Snooty flight Nazi- "Sorry ma'am, Paris will just have to wait."

Yakety yak, you need a fanny pack.

Before you hit airline security on the red eye back to LA, strap on this Hands-Free Travel Belt from the folks at pb travel.

To be honest, it's not so much a fanny pack...the concept is the same, but it's much more fashion forward...I'd call it a utility belt with an edge . It'll keep all your valuables safe and stylish while leaving your hands free to grip your venti macchiato, UsWeekly, and other jetsetting accoutrements. And at $17 each, you can buy a coordinating eye mask so you don't have to entertain Milton in 4A for the entire flight.

Have Hands-Free Belt will travel.

*Keepin' it in the friendly skies,

sammy

Posted by Samara at 10:58 PM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

Spring is almost here, and nothing says Spring more than camis and capris...except maybe ladybugs and daffodils.

Score the franky cami from JCrew before they're all gone with the wind. You can layer it, or wear it as is...plus it comes in other fun colors like sour lemon and fresh clover. It was $58, but i'll give it to you for $39.99...because you look hot today.

If it's not your style, that's cool. Franky cami, I don't give a damn.

*Keepin' it thrifty,

sammy

Posted by Samara at 09:35 AM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

If I won the lottery I would pay off my house...then i'd buy this killer Gucci hobo. Or maybe I'd buy the bag first, then pay off my house. Come to think of it, I've always wanted a Shetland pony.

Then i'd give the rest to the March of Dimes because I'd feel like a big fat jerk for spending $1,790 on a handbag...and however much Shetland ponies are running for these days.

*Keeping the Gucci dream alive,

sammy

Posted by Samara at 09:05 AM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

Looks like the higher ups at Victoria's Secret heard my panty rant. Now they're offering free bags. Before you get your panties in a bunch, as always...there's a catch. You have to spend at least $50. The more you spend, the bigger the bag...and if you spend $250, you get all three bags. You sneaky little Victoria vixens. You and your panty bags of tricks.

If you're willing to spend $50 on pretty panties and lingerie for a tote bag have at it, but be sure to read the fine print. You don't want them to inform you your fifty bucks needs to be spent on something in the crotchless variety....unless you're like, into that.

And stay away from the VS Cotton. You can get those for free next month.

*Not keepin' it secret,

sammy

Posted by Samara at 10:45 PM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

Sometimes it's good to watch bad tv. You don't have to follow storylines, plot progression, or character development, and let's face it...Sometimes you just wanna watch someone get bitch slapped. America's Next Top Model is bad tv at it's best...or worst. Depending on the model's angle, and what Ms. J is wearing.

Here's a quick rundown of last night's episode. No one got bitch slapped, but someone did lose a thumb. Yowsa.

The central conflict revolved around African refugee/Iman doppleganger Fatima as she faced an international crisis. The models smelled a trip abroad in the air and Fatima hadn't updated her travel documents. Will she make it to the consulate in time? Will she miss a photo shoot in the process? Whatever is a model to do? All turned out well, but Tyra milked it more than she did in her got milk ad.

Now for the thumb. Arty redhead Lauren who has a bad walk and apparently tourettes syndrome, cut her thumb off while slicing an onion. Good thing there's not an IQ prerequisite to be cast on ANTM. You wouldn't last a day in Hell's Kitchen you donkey.

*Spoiler alert if you're saving it on tivo*

Adorable Stacy-Ann (reminiscent of Tootie from the Facts of Life ) had been flying under the radar, but got the boot for not being able to angle her big jaw properly. Sorry Stace. Personally, I think it should've been Dominique's time to go. For some reason she reminds me of the dude looks like a lady from the Crying Game.

Sorry. I guess bad tv just brings out the bitch in me.

*Keepin' my thumbs in tact,

sammy

Posted by Samara at 01:06 PM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

I'm torn. More torn that Natalie Imbruglia circa 1997.

Juicy Couture rocks. From their Real Housewives of Orange County velour track suits, to their stylin' bags and bling...You aren't really a celebrity It girl, if you don't have some Juicy in your walk-in California closet. Which leads me to their latest ad campaign.

I always love Juicy ads. They're fun, original, colorful, and boy do they take risks. But much like the Posh Spice Marc Jacobs ad that bewildered me last week, I'm missin' something. First thing's first. Not to be beeotchy, but I hate the bow. Seriously kids, Christian from Project Runway could fashion me an entire dress out of that bow, and you know it'd be fierce.

Now the image itself is cute and sweet in a sodashop, Lady and the Tramp spaghetti dinner kinda way...but c'mon now. One- Is this what models are resorting to now to stay thin? Drinking fragrances instead of wheatgrass? Two- that Giant Parfum Atomizer Bottle is $3,000 bucks. I kid you not. If that's how you roll, pocket the cash and drink a bottle of Love's Baby Soft or Coty's Wild Musk from Walgreens.

I'm just sayin'.

*Keepin' it juicy.

sammy

Posted by Samara at 08:41 AM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

I'm over my closet.

Last I counted, I have half a dozen LBD's (that's an acronym for Little Black Dress for my gentleman readers). They say a girl can't have too many little black dresses, but they can if 1- They all look the same, and 2- They all look the same.

Never fear, I've got a Juicy deal that'll make your mouths water...more than when you first glimpsed Brad Pitt in that cowboy hat in Thelma and Louise. What have I got for you? A little black dress for a little bit less. Look at that, I'm a poet and I didn't know it.

Follow Amy Winehouse's lead (sans the drug addiction and hairdon't) and get back to black with this i'd swear it was vintage Juicy Couture Embroidered Shift Dress. It's delicate, it's airy, and it belongs on my body. Originally $238, you can nab it for $195. Not a huge discount, but $43 will definitely buy you the collector's edition of Thelma and Louise so you can relive that scene where Brad plays bang bang with a hairdryer.

Get shifty now before your size goes buh bye.

I will wear it with a fox, I will wear it with bagels and lox.

*Keepin' it cheap.

sammy

Posted by Samara at 08:02 AM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

Nothing makes me happier than going to my mailbox and receiving a free panty coupon from Victoria's Secret....although George Bush's economic stimulus payment is looking pretty sweet right about now. Thanks for the $600 smackers Dubya, but I still don't forgive you for the past eight years.

Back to panties. I love panties, and I love getting them for free. My beloved free panty coupons come along ever couple of months or so, one of the perks of being an Angel Card member. That and the big pair of wings they send me every year...

But sadly, my free panty offer isn't as heavenly as their Dream Angels eau de parfum. They entice me with their catalogs and very sexy store displays featuring the creme of the panty crop...the starlet panty, cheeky hiphuggers, eyelet bloomers, side-tie thongs...Then I whip out my coupon with the excitement of a toddler in a Build-a-Bear Workshop, only to read the 3 point font explaining my free panty is limited to the VS Cotton. The VS Cotton is the vanilla of panties people, two bikini strings away from being grandma panties. Not even a print can save the day, you have to choose between black, white, whisper pink, ivory, or nude.

Oh well. I guess panty beggars can't be choosers.

*Keepin' it real.

sammy

Posted by Samara at 06:45 AM | Permalink | Comments (1) | TrackBacks (0)

Because sometimes, you just want a dress that's easy like Sunday morning...

This simply sweet Matte Jersey Dress by BCBG will make you feel like you just walked off the wall of the MOMA. Put it on and paint the town fantastic. Hopefully you won't be accosted by tortured artists with one ear.

Plus, you can afford it on a starving artist income...well, as long as you don't eat for a week.

*Keepin' it arty.

sammy

Posted by Samara at 10:54 PM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

Let's get something straight. I don't watch Dancing with the Stars for the dancing. I don't watch it for the sequined costumes that look like a bedazzler threw up on them. I don't watch it to see the chicks from Hairspray and American Pie respectively shake their tatas. I don't watch it to mourn the loss of what was once Priscilla Presley's face.

I watch it for Jason Taylor.

The Miami Dolphins heartthrob is just as comfortable on the dance floor as he is on the 50 yard line and tonight, he rhumbaed just a little bit deeper into my heart. Looking very Ralph Lauren chic in a cream sweater and khaki slacks, he seduced me and every other hot-blooded woman in the country...and some men.

It was Samba and Rhumba night and in case you missed it, here's a full rundown: Mario, aka Poopie (don't ask) sold the hips but not the footwork, Priscilla missed a turn, and a Botox treatment, Marissa shook her tush and her big hair, Christián was competent, Marlee missed some beats, Kristi let her hair down and was one point shy of getting the gold, Shannon's hotness couldn't mask her awkwardness, and Jason was...ahhhh....everything a Jason should be.

Quin es mas macho? Christián De La Fuente O Jason Taylor?

Do I even need to answer? Be still mi corazon.

*Keepin' it real.

sammy

Posted by Samara at 10:07 PM | Permalink | Comments (1) | TrackBacks (0)

I could've sworn I saw plus-sized princess Whitney from America's Next Top Model rocking this Belted-Floral Print dress a couple of weeks ago when the girls went on their castings. Will I take her sloppy seconds? You betcha.

It was designed by Shoshana, Jerry Seinfeld's ex. I'm guessing her fashion sense didn't rub off on him. I've got news for you Shoshana...I sho wanna that dress. Man, that was weak.

It's perfect for a day of shopping or high tea....and you can keep cookies in the pockets...or other delicious pastries.

If you want it, you can have it...Go ahead, treat yourself.

*Keepin' it flowery.

sammy

Posted by Samara at 08:42 PM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

When I heard that the adorable red-headed Aussie and Definitely Maybe star Isla Fischer nabbed the role of Becky Bloomwood in the highly anticipated film version of the bestselling Brit Chick Lit series Confessions of a Shopaholic, I maxed out my credit card. Then I went to confession. "Forgive me Father, for I have spent."

You may remember her best for her scene stealing turn as the slightly psychotic, hilariously obsessed Gloria to Vince Vaughn's Jeremy in the hit comedy Wedding Crashers. From Vinceaholic to Shopaholic, this is truly casting at it's best. Isla is the perfect mixture of sweet and charming, befuddled yet brilliant. Think I Love Lucy meets Cher Horowitz from Clueless. It's not an easy role, but one I bet my Jimmy Choos she'll nail.

Isla's had a busy year being new mommy to the spawn of Borat baby Olive, but she's hard at work in New York filming and shopping away at Barneys and breathing life into Rebecca Bloomwood's overdrafted lungs. Seriously, I haven't been this excited since Jake Gyllenhaal and Kirsten Dunst broke up (thanks a lot Reese)...and I haven't even gotten started on the fashionista clothes yet.

There are five books in the series so this could be Isla's legacy, like Daniel Radcliffe of the Harry Potter septilogy (that is a word, I looked it up). She's bringing home the bacon and the designer duds baby Olive. Mommy's definitely giving you a better life than you would have had in Kazakhstan.

*Keepin' it real.

sammy

Posted by Samara at 08:20 PM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

If I won the lottery I would spend it on this ridiculously hot tuxedo babydoll shirtdress by Proenza Schouler. I'd spend what was left buying the legs I'd need to pull it off.

If you're expecting a mega tax refund, get yours from Neiman Marcus.

Monkey See, Monkey Suit Dress.

*Keepin' the dream alive.

sammy

Posted by Samara at 05:31 PM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

The shirtdress. You either love it or you hate it. There really isn't any in between. If you're a shirtdress hater, you're frustrated with the sheer confusion of it all, much like Faye Dunaway's bewildered character Evelyn Mulwray in Chinatown.

Faye: "She's my sister... She's my daughter... my sister, my daughter."
Jack: "I said I want the truth!"
Faye: "She's my sister and my daughter!"

Shirtdress hater: "Is it a shirt... or a dress... a shirt, or dress? I said I want the truth!"
Me: "It's a shirt and a dress!!"

I had a shirtdress à la Margot Tenenbaum that I was obsessed with when I was 7. I accessorized with a pair of beaded barrettes and a stack of friendship bracelets and was good to go. If it were only that simple now. Once I hit puberty, I always thought "Silly rabbit, shirtdresses are for kids!" Until I saw this little Geren Ford number.

Now I'm a shirtdress believer. It can happen to you.

It's okay shirtdress hater. I feel the exact same way about skorts.

*Keepin' it real.

sammy

Posted by Samara at 10:55 PM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

I have a secret.

It has nothing to do with Victoria, and no...I don't see dead people. Sometimes I wear my jammies outside. There I said it. Before you judge me, allow me to talk you through the method to my madness. I don't wear pajamas with feet/trapdoors in the booty, or the onesies I blogged about earlier this week. I wear sweet little chemises, slips, camisoles...items that are just too damn pretty to wear under a comforter. I wear them with jeans, tights, boots, hoodies, chunky sweaters...anything that'll toughen them up a bit and give me coverage in case the nighty nightie is too sheer. Tell me this look doesn't deserve to be seen out and about:

And did I mention how much cheaper they are than dayclothes? Get your own at Urban Outfitters for $32.

I pity the fool who doesn't wear their pj's all day.

*Not keepin' it secret.

sammy

Posted by Samara at 09:15 PM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

Want me to tell you what I want, what I really really want?
I'll tell you what I want, what I really really want...

I really want to understand this new Marc Jacobs Spring/Summer ad campaign.

This has been a hot topic amongst fashion bloggers everywhere, so I figured I should jump on the Beckham Bandwagon. Yes, for those of you who don't already know, that is in essence, Victoria Beckham spread eagle in a shopping bag. Thank goodness there are no accompanying aerial views advertising Vic's biznass. Usually I adore photographer Juergen Teller's artistically fab Jacobs ads featuring the likes Sofia Coppola, our favorite shoplifter Winona Ryder, and even tween sensation Dakota Fanning looking like a prepubescent silent film star. But this? I just don't get. Am I supposed to shop at Marc Jacobs because their shopping bags eat oversaturated, semi-talented nineties girl-band members-slash-style icons? Or am I supposed to shop there because the