Not A Model Photo Diary - Some things & one place.

Dipping fresh, crusty bread in extra virgin olive oil and balsamic vinegar is my favourite pre-meal ritual. Blame my Italian background or the fact that there is always an abundance of all three lying around my house, but once I start, I can't stop.

I declared to one of my best friends on a recent shopping trip that I was "sooo over" ballerina flats. Two shops later I saw these patent cherry red leather Nine West ones (on sale). Needless to say I ate my words one credit card swipe at a time. 

I'm a hoarder when it comes to magazines and books. I pile them up beside my desk until they teeter-totter and collapse on my bedroom floor. I'd like to think of it as Jenga for the modern day writer.

This is what my whiteboard is usually divided into. The categories anxiously wait to be filled, only to be (sometimes) ignored and re-written the next week. Lately, exercise seems to be a laughable category.

SOHO, New York City: I can daydream about living on the top floor of the tall beige building and having all my friends (because we'd all live in the same place) climb up the ladders to visit. They'd carry platters of crudites and pitchers of sangria for the never-ending party. Picture it.