After living a sloth-like, exercise-free existence for the last six months, I'm desperately trying to motivate myself to get back into a gym routine. Read More

Sometimes I'll be surfing eBay and I'll see something, click on it, and love it so much that I become like a crazed drooling wolf. "OH MY GOD," growls my internal monologue, "THAT IS SO CUTE! I MUST FIGURE OUT A WAY TO OWN IT RIGHT NOW." Then I plot out my bidding strategy, visit often, and hope and pray that I win. What I do not do with these special, turn-me-into-a-wolf items, I must guiltily confess, is write about them. Which somehow seems really wrong, greedy, and not the correct behavior for a woman who has a daily blog about eBay. So, here it is, my truest pick of the day: a pristinely beautiful, unbelievably inexpensive vintage Lanvin bag.

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The boss blanched—and had us look at this post again. We certainly didn't intend to spill cranberry juice on anyone's parade, but this item clearly did leave a bad taste in more than a few people's mouths. A little Binaca, a Bigelow Mentha lip balm (rose-tinted, of course), and a sincere "We hear you" should get us on the right track again.

Regrets,

The Beauty Department

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I spent the weekend in Vegas, where on Easter Sunday the temperature peaked at 75 degrees. It was the first time in far too long that I can remember stepping out without piling on at least half a dozen layers, and feeling the sun on my bare arms made me euphoric. My mind was racing with fantasies of my yet-to-be-acquired summer wardrobe, and one thing I know I want is a stash of gauzy, exotic white blouses. I love their balance between sweet and cool, and from a practical standpoint, when it's really hot out, it's hard to beat anything that's light in color and cut from featherweight cloth. I've had great success finding nice ones on trips to Mexico, but since I'm not going there anytime soon, I'll buy the Corey Lynn Calter top I just spotted on Anthropologie's website. The silhouette is akin to a simple V-neck tee, but it's got some gorgeous details: intricate appliqué trim framing the collar, and really fine silver pinstripes that add the perfect hint of flash.

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You know how sometimes—even though you probably shouldn't, even though your mother and your grandmother and maybe a random not-nice stylist told you that you can't, even if it makes your skin tone look pallid and sad—you just want to wear something, and you kind of don't give a damn about all the rest?Read More

I spent four extremely blurry, jet-laggy days in London (no Blue Lagoons for me!)—and judging from the pictures on my camera and the flotsam in my suitcase, I went to precisely four places in my precisely four days.

Our fashion news director Jen Ford recommended the brand-new Haymarket Hotel to me, and I can't thank her enough; between the driftwood chandelier-orbs in the conservatory (!) and the twinkling stars in the ceiling above the subterranean pool (!!), it felt like the place had been designed, exuberantly, by the Mad Hatter (if the Mad Hatter had liberty to play around with several billion dollars' worth of liquid assets). As if that weren't ridiculous and glamorous enough, my bathroom was fully stocked with Miller Harris soaps and lotions in a lovely, lavender-ish scent custom-designed for the Haymarket.

—Cristina Mueller, senior beauty editor

Haymarket Hotel photo by Cristina Mueller

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I, like pretty much every other woman I know, especially around the Lucky offices, have a little obsession with Marni. The clothes are unfalteringly interesting and not overly trendy, and exude a particular Italian arty vibe that never makes you look like you're trying too hard to be chic. The only downside to the label is that it's expensive, now more than ever with exchange rates where they are. I've been stalking this long gray wool voile dress on discount site yoox.com for a while now. The classic, elegant silhouette is offset by a mod white belt, and though from the front it looks rather conservative, a slit down the back adds the perfect dose of sex appeal. They were originally selling it for $680, which was still more than I cared to spend, but it just got marked down to $478—definitely still pricey, but much easier to justify, especially for a piece as cool and infinitely wearable as this.

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I've been a little obsessed with convertibles lately (an odd fact considering my license has lapsed and because of this the state of New York basically treats me like a 15-year-old who has never driven a car, but I digress). I've been particularly fixated on vintage convertibles—of which you can find hundreds of truly stellar options on eBay. I imagine if I bought this cute red '71 Mercedes convertible I'd drive it from Florida, head straight to Louisiana, pick up a hot Zydeco singer, and travel the country wearing tank dresses, playing the accordion, and learning Creole French. Or maybe I'd take one of those empowering-lady trips, abduct my sister, and we'd wrap our heads in beautiful vintage Hermès scarves and roll through pastoral New England drinking champagne and occasionally stopping for a lobster dinner in some salty-fisherman town. But the true, true deep reason I need to have a convertible (and somehow transport it to Paris) is to overcome what I like to call the "Ballad of Lucy Jordan" curse. The first time I heard this Marianne Faithfull song ("At the age of thirty-seven she realized she'd never ride through Paris in a sports car with the warm wind in her hair..."), I thought, "Gosh, that's depressing. That is so not going to be me." It's time to buy the sports car. Or, well, at least rent one for a day.

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The killer-chic fashion houses of Paris certainly are, and since I lamely attempt to copy many things killer-chic, fashionable, and Parisian, I've got to try this slicked look too.

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I've been looking for a crisp shirtdress to wear straight through from now until the end of summer. My instinct is to go with something really clean and classic, and this Tocca version is pretty spot-on. I love how completely un-fussy it is: Its only embellishments are a waist sash (I'd probably knot mine as opposed to tying it in a bow the way they've done here, to mitigate its girliness), a smattering of pearly buttons down the front, and subtle buff-colored pinstripes. And, true to form, I've already built a bunch of imaginary events around it: I'll dress it up with bright kitten heels for summer cocktails at some rooftop bar, and wear it with espadrille flats for weekend brunch with my girlfriends.

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