Tales of the Fashion Plate, and the Aspiring...

So my new roommate is absolutely adorable. She's from New England and goes to school in Boston, so we immediately had that northeast connection. Her parents are Ivy-grads, like mine. She loves fashion and is interning at a magazine you very likely saw on the newsstand this morning.

One of my favorite things to do is stare at her incredible wardrobe in our shared walk-in closet. She is a literal fashion plate! My two-checked-baggage-sized collection of summer apparel and necessities donning my shelves looks comparatively meager (but it's fun living with just essentials).

So...needless to say, she is fabulous and we come home and compare stories every day. Last night, "very sketchily," she swiped the latest issue of the magazine from her office before today when it hit newsstands. Curling up after a long days work, we were the first girls in the outside world to read it.

She tells me stories of hauling 50-pound garment bags filled with designer swag through......

brace yourself.......

the SUBWAY.

Don't get me wrong, I love the subway. It's a complete release of responsibility (just watch your bag), reliable, air-conditioned and often faster than a cab, especially in traffic.

But yes, you heard it from an insider, a fashion publication you see on every magazine shelf in the world cannot afford to have their Lanvin and D&G driven around in a car.

You know you love me. XOXO.