“Three’s a charm,” “Good things come in threes,” and “The Holy Trinity” all symbolize something I am starting to put a lot of stock in. The number three may just be my lucky number. I mean, if last “leap year” alone isn’t proof, I don’t know what is. Grant started a new job, we closed on our first house, and found out we were expecting our second child – all literally within three weeks of each other. Then, in the just the past three months, my blog baby went from my little fledgling project to being inundated with brand collab opportunities that has me in a position I never thought would come. A place where I can finally turn something I’ve been so utterly passionate about into a real business where I’m in control of my own success or failure.
So I admittedly have always had a hankering to make it to Coachella, and yet in the 7 years we lived in LA I never made the trek. To add even more salt to my wound, this year my awesome Fashion Mamas tribe is hosting their first “Mama Mirage” Coachella event, sponsored by Havaianas (cue sad face). Because I never like to wallow in my own sorrow, I figured what better way than to pay it forward to all my lovely followers. I’ve partnered with SheIn to send 2 lucky persons to Coachella – including airfare and hotel! The winners will also receive makeovers by some of hottest influencers for the entire weekend – seriously how cool is that??
What a week! Our family got hit hard with the stomach flu (sans mom, phew, and because who else is gonna take care of everybody??). Fortunately we are on the mend, but our dryer literally went kaput from me forcing it to do laundry for 6 days straight (so much poo…sorry, tmi).
NEWS FLASH: I turned 35 this week. It felt just like any other birthday, with the exception of one thing – it was one of those “mid” birthdays. Remember the first time you had to refer to yourself as “mid-twenties,” and you realized all those life expectations you set for yourself in your younger years were like one big fat joke played on you by the universe? Saying things like, “I’m totally gonna be married with a kid by the time I’m 25” or “I’m gonna live in a big house with two dogs and an awesome car.” But that’s the beauty of young naivety – you can dream about these things and no one will fault you for it. In fact, your parents even condone it all the while secretly knowing that life is a heck of a lot more unpredictable than you can explain to a teenager.
Waiting for fall to come in Texas is like waiting for cherry blossom season, and then it’s gone before you know it. I’ve never let it cramp my style though. Granted, I definitely miss my LA “seasons,” which essentially allowed me to dress like it was fall year round (le sigh). But alas, I vow to prepare for fall like a medieval knight going into battle. The easiest way, if you live in a warmer climate like we do now, is to start transitioning your wardrobe with a few key accessories.
Is it just me or did the month of October march by like ants on an ant hill, or incidentally like the ants that swarmed my feet during this shoot (no seriously, I almost freaked). I don’t know if it’s just because I share my birthday month with my son now (yes, I get a whole month, don’t you?), or if fall in LA is like a glitch in the system. You see it happen, but it doesn’t last long enough to actually believe it happened.
“Hi, my name’s Cammeo and I’m a momaholic.” What’s a momaholic, you might ask? I myself didn’t know until enduring the longest days of my life this past week – when both my husband and my mom incidentally landed themselves out of town, giving one helpless mama a much needed wake-up call.
Day 1: (cue Law & Order, dun dun sound)
The week started by dropping Garrett (now 17 months) off with the sweet nannies who watch some of the local neighborhood kids. Sounds harmless enough right? WRONG! Cue the waterworks. I’m not talking just any waterworks, I’m talking Wet n’ Wild sized waterworks. Had I not been nanny-blocked (a move clearly she had learned from years of dealing with other momaholics), I would have swooped him up in my arms and never made it in to work that day. But, le sigh, I walked away pushing back the tears and making it to work early for a change. All good right? Wrong again! As I dug hopelessly through my Zara bag, I got the sinking feeling that no matter how much I imagined a Mary Poppins-like scenario – my wallet was nowhere to be found.
Coming off the heels of Paris Fashion Week, I thought it would be apropos to finally pay some homage to French fashion. I can’t really pinpoint exactly when I started to admire French style, but there truly is something undeniably classy about the way their women dress and carry themselves. Being a first generation Italian-American, with a father who had some very serious Sicilian roots – I was lucky enough to have grown up traveling Europe, visiting family in southern Italy and Sicily. Because my parents both had a deep love affair with Paris, we always flew Air France to squeeze in a stop over on our travels to Italy. Truth be told, they just had the genius to realize French airplane food is better than whatever those other airlines call that stuff (I’m going with “goulash”).
Everyone’s heard the saying “imitation is the sincerest form of flattery.” I for one, have played that over and over again in my head ever since I was a young girl first exploring my sense of style – wondering how guilty I should feel going and buying that shirt or shoes that I spotted on a (seemingly much cooler) girl at school.
Fast forward 20 years, and I still do it today. The difference is, with the widespread popularity of style bloggers and fashion-centric social media sites (I’m looking at you, Pinterest), it’s far more socially acceptable. In fact, it’s customary and down-right necessary to turn to those whose style you admire as a way to even make it out of your closet in the morning. So alas my friends, I have learned to embrace the notion of imitation as a form of flattery, and I am here to tell you – it’s ok, don’t beat yourself up. We all do it.
In light of the holiday season among us, and instead of falling victim to the Black Friday and Cyber Monday hoopla, I decided to finally do a closet purge and donate all my unwanted clothes. Luckily my office building is doing a clothing/toy drive, and I imagine many are this time of year. I also plan on donating some of my more business appropriate clothing & shoes to the local Dress for Success affiliate in West LA.
To take a step back – I was inspired to go through with my own closet cleanout after reading a style essay in ELLE recounting one woman’s attempt to embrace her thirties. Her mission was simply to clean out all the clothes she had held onto in a desperate attempt to stay young. I suddenly realized that I had been doing the same thing – holding onto clothes that had sentimental value, drumming up memories of my college years or shopping trips in NYC. So one night, I went from rack to rack and shelf to shelf, tossing clothes into bags one after another. I have to admit, it felt damn good – like I was finally going to be free of the past and heading towards being a real thirty-something adult.