Touch-a Touch-a Touch-a Touch Me

Perhaps this is a misleading title. No - I have not had any sexy romps with pool boy[s], nor am I longing for any. It's just that it's feeling a bit lonely here on this side of Wearing Rags.

I waffled around about a month ago with giving the blog more direction - focus on my culinary ambitions, my sartorial distractions or my fitness fixation (or my linguistic acrobatics, perhaps?) - but the sense I got was that, as a self proclaimed narcissist's blog, I should write about every and all things I want to. And I think there is good sense in showing these many facets of a person. I read fitness blogs, fashion blogs, cooking blogs, but very few try to tie these elements together: isn't it frustrating not knowing if beautiful woman A on the Sartorialist eats? And it seems like every fitness aficionado with a blog could not care less about divulging in such material rewards as shoes-beautiful-shoes. But let's be real; we all like food, and we all like things that are shiny and kickass, and hence, we feel obligated to like working out. No?

But does it make for a captivating blog? I don't know. My "followers" are few (seriously embarrassingly few) and so in an uncharacteristic moment, I shall remove my focus from myself and shift it out towards the abyss of the internet (or "truth machine" as I call it); what do you like about this blog if you read it? What should I keep and what should I toss? There is nothing more obnoxious than obsessing out loud about your own trivial concerns only to realize your audience is, well, no one. My cat.

Can you tell I'm heartbroken that I got no feedback about my animal print outfit? I thirst for validation from my lovely readers!


Back to L.A. tomorrow. Just me and Papa B and a little white sports car. At 5:45 in the morning. Sigh. I don't see any shopping this time round, but brace yourself for some charming outfits...