I'm skimping on flowers. I'm serving chicken. I'm taking a cab to my ceremony. In a self-indulgent turn, however, I'm dedicating serious time and energy to hair and makeup. Maybe it's a beauty editor thing ... and maybe not.

I've been slathering myself in Dr. Brandt's Poreless gel to minimize stress breakouts, drinking foul-tasting omega-3 Udo's oil (good for skin), and running five miles every day before work.

But this week—the week before the "big day"—I'm stepping it up:

Tuesday: Makeup run-through with Amy Kernahan (of Amy Kernahan Studio on the Upper East Side).

Wednesday: Shu Uemura lash extensions with Soul Lee at their Soho outpost—I love false lashes but these are supposed to last for weeks (even when I'm swimming in Bora Bora).

Thursday: The Barshop Brow (which I raved about last week) at Completely Bare on Bond Street.

Friday: A rosemary-eucalyptus manicure and pedicure at Sweet Lily in Tribeca. (I haven't picked a color—but I'll take suggestions!)

—Dawn Spinner, associate beauty editor

I was just in Boston for a big party to celebrate the new Lucky book and the Boston Shopping Trip in this month's issue. There are a slew of great stores in Boston, but only about two of them (Stel's and Good) have proper e-commerce websites. I would really, really love to see an eBay shop for Bobby From Boston, which I adore. It's a gigantic, theatrical warehouse packed with pristine vintage. Most of it is for men, and most of it is from the '20s through the '40s. It gets me in a serious mood to dress like a college professor (in the best possible way, naturally). Since Bobby doesn't sell online, I'll just have to get my fix this way, with a striped college scarf, and this Fair Isle button-front vest, which I will probably order two sizes too big and leave open and flapping.

Do you ever find yourself talking ad nauseum about incredibly boring things? "I'm obsessed with carbonation," I told three dinner companions over the weekend. "I'm constantly craving seltzer, and champagne, and, like ... Pepsi. Out of a can, the bubbles are so much better. I wonder what it means that I want it all of the time?"

Blank stares (can you blame them?). "Interesting," someone said generously, and changed the subject.

Along similar lines, I love Listerine Essential Care Flouride Toothpaste like I have never loved a toothpaste before. When I'm using it, I'm having a full-on inner monologue. It goes like this: "I LOVE this toothpaste."

Like the mouthwash, it is intense; unlike the mouthwash, it is not unbearable to me. But the results are the same: My mouth tastes super-clean and fresh and amazingly Listerine-y for a LONG time.

Try it if you're not convinced—everyone I know who does instantly becomes a convert.

—Cat Marnell, associate beauty editor

Thanks for all the great feedback on the leopard flats. I like A (D&G, on sale now from $449 to $336.75), and B the best (by Be & D, $460) too—they're the most refined of the bunch. The hesitation some of you had about potentially uncomfortable elastic on the back of the D&G's and the slightly matronly look of the Be & D pair (in fairness, I think they were shot from a bad angle), coupled with their expensiveness, left me wanting more. C is by French Sole ($225.95), a brand I've long been devoted to. Yet I agree with you that somehow that initial pair wasn't quite right—the print was off, and I realize I prefer the pony-hair varieties for their texture and more natural look. On London Sole's website just now (they're virtually the same company: their shoes sold in Europe are usually branded French Sole, while the ones in the U.S. usually go under the London Sole label) I found this winning option: The Henrietta, which has a low-cut front (younger, sexier) and comes in furry leopard. At $195 it's the most affordable of all the contenders, and you can get it with either red or beige piping—both equally cute, though I'm leaning toward the latter for the sake of versatility. I loved hearing what you guys had to say on the subject—do you think I'm right?

After some serious soul-searching, I've realized I just can't do it: No real fur for me. And you know what? That's okay. I'm sure the fur industry will do fine without me. In the meantime, I will be scooping up at least one of these pale, slick-looking faux styles—like this puffy "wolf" replica and something a little fancier, thisFrench-made fake mink.

To: Jean Godfrey-June, beauty director

Hi! This super-cool organic beauty store opened in the Marais—definitely go when you're next in Paris. It's their own label, pretty art deco packaging, all organic, AND they do beauty treatments:

Nayouni Cosmetique, 126 Rue Vieille du Temple, 75003 Paris, 33-1-4274-6731

I know I'm supposed to know this stuff, but it came as a complete shock when I discovered recently that Mango is now completely e-commerce. I'm digging these bib-like necklaces (surprise, surprise) and this very ladylike skirt, which is cut from old-fashioned cotton piqué. It's crisp, and off-white, and the sort of piece that screams "Everything's going to be OK, because I'm taking care of it."

At the same time that you introduce your latest anti-cellulite technology, you must concurrently introduce an anti-stomach-overhang cream for men. And publicize each with equal vigor and explicitness.

—Jean Godfrey-June, beauty director

A friend of mine is getting married in December, and a few of us decided to go in on some fancy lingerie she can take with her on the honeymoon. And I've been tasked with finding it. I immediately thought of a boutique called Lille that I discovered in Portland and wrote about in the magazine earlier this year. I've never been one for froufrou underthings, and this shop stands out in my head for exquisite lingerie that's elegant and feminine but not so over-the-top that you can't fathom actually wearing it. This Nina Ricci silk camisole decked out with gorgeous Calais lace and matching tap shorts is exactly what I was hoping for: something I know she would never buy herself and that strikes just the perfect balance between luxurious, sexy, and so, so special.

My friend Zoe and I were out having drinks the other night and, out of nowhere, she leaned in and whispered conspiratorially, "Do you own a fur?" "No," I replied. "Do you kind of want to?" It's an interesting question that I'm sure most people who like getting dressed up have pondered. The truth is, while I definitely consider myself a person who would never own a real fur, there are times when I do see the appeal (so luxurious! So warm!). I've tried to justify this desire by telling myself if the piece is already vintage, like this incredible/funky fur vest, the animals are already long gone and it's actually more like recycling. But then I pet my cats and feel horrible and guilty for ever thinking anything close to a pro-fur thought. It's a fashion struggle. Where do you all weigh in?