I was secretly a Fashionista in a Past Life

Okay, I fully embrace the "Momiform" of Lululemon pants, short-sleeved top, hoodie and flip-flops/runners (depending on the season), but in a past life, I think I must have been a fashionista.

I own The Devil Wears Prada DVD. I watch it. A lot. And I dream of one day waking up to an Amex Black card and my own private jet that will whisk me away to Paris on a shopping spree on the Champs Elysees.

I watch the trends, courtesy of the September Vogue, and while I reject a lot of the heroin chic (there is no holy WAY my thighs would ever, ever look good in skinny jeans. Ever) I do try and attempt a nod to the latest fashion to at least temporarily step out of the comfy box and look vaguely now. Recent attempts include leggings, long tops and a blue faux crocodile Kenneth Cole tote from Vegas that is positively delicious and worth every minute of its' fifteen minutes of fame.

I dream of going to fashion week in both Paris AND New York, (again, with that handy little Amex Black - did you know the minimal annual spending requirement is $250K???) and buying off of the runway.

I first visited Christian Louboutin (in person: me with the shoes, not the designer) in Vegas, and fell in love. They all retailed for over $1000, but did I care? NO - not with my trusty alter-ego!

Anyone who knows me would probably laugh at this admission: it is so ridiculous, so left-field and so anti-Miriam that they might wonder if I have been up with the baby one too many times tonight to be making any sense.

But there it is, dear reader. In all it's animal-printed wedge skinny 40's inspired glory.

(And the word on the street for men in the Spring is tweed and lipstick!)