Something spectacular, unexpected, and a little out of character happened in my apartment over the weekend: I got kittens. I'd been thinking about this for a while, looked up thousands of adoptable cats on Craigslist, and almost took in two last year that had been abandoned at a deli by my house, but could never could pull the trigger. (They'll make the house messy! They'll stink! I'll become a cat lady!) Then on Saturday, I was walking to buy bread for dinner and there they were: the most ridiculously-to-the-point-of-cheesy cute animals I'd ever seen in my life. And they'd been abandoned and needed someone to foster them, and I took them home that night, and I am never giving them back. I am freakishly obsessed with these little creatures. I want them to have everything—stupid blinged-out collars, fake mice, "peek-a-prize", peacock feathers, this thing. Something has gone terribly wrong (or right?). Seriously, I can see it all happening: First I'll frame of a picture of them and put it on my desk, then I'll use an adorable photo of them as my Facebook headshot ... then, honestly, who knows? A T-shirt with all of us together? An "I heart my cats" pin? My life as a mildly cool person is over. It's embarrassing.

Let's face it, summer fashion can be a little blah, glamourwise. There are fewer clothes, obviously, which means less to accessorize, and the number one goal is often to avoid feeling like a sweat bomb, not to look fabulous (a fashion editor I know once called summer "amateur hour," but I wouldn't go that far—I actually enjoy the liberation). Still, even though I mostly live in gauzy sundresses and shorts in the warmer months, it's always nice to bust out an item that's exceptionally chic and cool. Today on eBay I searched for YSL clothes, specifically ones I could wear now through September. Oh my God, the things I found! I may be in love with this amazing side-button white dress, the print on this secretary style is so good I kind of want to die, and how ridiculously cute would you feel in this little V-neck top and sailor skirt? And ... this is going to seem weird, but I saw two '80s glam YSL bathing suits (this and this) that make me want to cede all my hygienic fears and wear them now.

Though it's still a little cold and rainy in New York, we're about to enter my absolute favorite time of the year: outdoor-socializing season. I love having drinks in noisy bars on the sidewalk and hanging out at tiny backyard parties, and I especially enjoy the late-afternoon weekend rooftop gatherings. These bright striped glasses by mid-century designer Georges Briard would be perfect for filling with delicious white sangria at just such an event. I also love Briard's delicate cruet set, these pretty gold-etched glass trays, and, though it might not be right for this second, this adorable enamel fondue pot.

I've been talking about getting an old-fashioned vanity for weeks (if not years). And I've really wanted something to hold all my makeup and hair stuff that's girly and beautiful and ornate—ideally with a cushy stool and a big, glamorous mirror. But this plan hasn't so much worked out. Thing is, I'm not the only person in my apartment—my boyfriend lives in our one-bedroom too—and until I get my own boudoirish dressing room (or suite, like the one I hear Katie Holmes has), if I want a vanity, I need something far more gender neutral. Which I think I have finally found on eBay today. Sure, it's nothing like Sigourney Weaver's plush setup in Working Girl (my dream), but this modern teak piece is sleek, compact, and will fulfill my desire for a grooming area without unfairly hogging up the whole place.

I love Farylrobin shoes a little bit like it's my job. They're just so comfortable and unique-looking and chic in a I-care-about-clothes-but-not-too-much way. I'm so obsessed, in fact, that after buying their ankle boots—and visiting a pair of strappy red platforms one too many times at a local boutique and deeming them "too expensive for summer sandals," much to the shop girl's chagrin—I've been searching for Farylrobin voraciously on eBay. And then, today: The Motherload! Tons and tons of last-season FR flats and boots and heels and platforms (alas, not the red ones), in an array of sizes, many of them mine. Check out these gorgeous patent leather wedges, a pair of sweet, chic, printed peep-toes, and these perfect rose and metallic pumps. Best of all, many of the options are Buy It Now, which means you won't have to fight to own them. And as the saying goes, a bird in the hand ...

There's something about madras plaid, for me, that has wonderfully happy connotations. It reminds me of smiley '50s beach movies, big houses in Maine, and the bathing suit of a boy I liked in high school. It just seems like a perfect summery pattern, the kind of thing that's both current and a cool—not too kitschy—throwback. On eBay this morning, I came across this outstanding halter jumper, a kick-around pair of shorts, a breezy miniskirt, and two terrifically preppy, throw over your bathing suit dresses: this and this.

I have a couple of weddings to go to this summer, and I've been racking my brain for interesting, personal, original gift ideas. One of the items I'm seriously considering (for a friend who likes to cook) is a stack of vintage cookbooks. I just love the idea of him diving into intricate, traditional recipes from a seriously authentic regional cuisine. I also think, depending on the style of your kitchen, some of these would look incredible displayed. Right now I'm choosing between a collection of New Orleans recipes from 1944, a groovy tome on Scandinavian cooking from the '60s, Henri Paul Pellaprat's The Great Book of French Cuisine, and this cool-looking guide to New Hampshire's farm foodies from 1958. Also, I have no idea what the dishes would be like, but the cover of this book is amazing: Who doesn't want cooking to be Fast Fun & Fancy?

Well that's it.  It's finally time. I have to start wearing a hat on the beach. I noticed this on a trip to Puerto Rico over the winter when, even with SPF45 slathered on, I still got burned. (OK. Fine. I may have forgotten to reapply after going in the water, I admit.) This whole head-covering situation kind of makes me feel sad, like my days of frolicking freely on the beach are over (though, let's face it, it was never like I was going to win awards for my Ultimate Frisbee/Hacky Sack/horse-shoes skills). To counteract this sadness, I am going to buy a big, beautiful, glamorous straw hat that will make me a different, not older, kind of lady on the beach. Instead of my former crunchy self, I will be a movie star lady. I will wear lipstick and a dramatic, plunging one-piece and enormous sunglasses. Is it wrong that I'm so lazy that I just want to buy this glam, transformative hat on eBay? What if the seller says it's new? What if, before I wear it, I spray it with Febreeze?

Adorable blonde, thick-banged designer Erin Fetherston has long been a Lucky favorite. I'm a huge fan of her flirty, offbeat, winkingly sweet dresses and tops—they're the kind of perfect pieces that are just between dressy and too-casual, and that I always need in my closet. On eBay right now there are around 50 of Erin's items—some from her super-fun Target line last year. Of them, I love this well-cut black-and-white top, a red Peter Pan collar dress, and this updated flapper look, which I imagine I'd wear to every outdoor party I'm invited to all summer long.

Whenever I visit my suburban friends' houses I am always struck by what it must be like to live in a real home, with a real kitchen, bedrooms, CLOSETS, a backyard, etc. to infinity. But I am most envious by far of their gorgeous, natural-light-filled, spa-like bathrooms. My living situation has definitely improved in the eight years I've lived in New York (there was a time when I had not so much a shower stall, but a booth where I was unable to comfortably turn my body all the way around. Man, that was a stubbly leg year), and my apartment's bathroom, while still mini, is at least new-ish and not a mold death trap. But the situation could aesthetically be improved. Though you wouldn't necessarily think of vintage bathroom accessories as a good idea, the ones I found today are all incredibly clean-looking and cool and will really brighten up my little space. I love the poppy design of this blue-and-green shower curtain, these shower rings, and this mirrored '70s cabinet will not only add a splash of color, but also some much (much) needed extra storage.

I was having brunch with my friend Lara on Sunday and I was dressed in what one wears to brunch (messy hair, wrinkled tee, not-quite-clean jeans, flats if I'm feeling "dressy"). Once I arrived, however, I realized Lara had broken the it's-okay-to-look-slovenly brunch code. Not only did she have a chic new hair cut (a darkened, wavy bob) and was wearing a cute V-neck sweater with a lacy camisole underneath, but she'd also accessorized with a cool cocktail ring on one hand and a perfect, eye-catching enamel bracelet on the other. The bracelet was simple and purple with gold edges—something I would never think to buy. It looked terrific on her: The enamel was shiny and clean-looking and really elevated her entire outfit. Seeing these results, now I want one, maybe one that's striped, to wear with everything all summer. Or perhaps I want a bunch.

It's massive weather transition time here on the East Coast: the time when everything becomes a little confusing temperature-wise, when you leave the house and have no idea whether you'll be freezing at the end of the day or carrying an armload of a heavy coat. I usually start this transition by refusing to wear socks. It's not quite sandal weather yet (thank goodness because I massively need a pedicure), but it is time for cute flats with bare feet. Right now, I'm obsessed with all ankle-strap styles, but particularly ones in striking colors or textures—they'll look gorgeous now through the end of summer with everything from dresses to shorts. And on eBay today, I found fabulous, inexpensive pairs in gold, red, and green.

Last summer, I was walking to the subway on my way to work and I saw an amazing vintage bank that had been left on the street. It was metal, painted, and shaped like a horse; it was also the heaviest thing I've ever carried in my purse. When I got to the office, I immediately sprinted to my friend Cristina's desk and handed her my 1950s objet d'art find (Cristina is a great collector of all things cheeky, obscure, and nature-inspired). I've weirdly thought about that bank since—about what a fun, offbeat design element it would be, say, arranged in a group on your mantel or as a great, unusual gift. Today, I found a few on eBay, like this stark black version and these odd-but-interesting prancing styles. But then I found something so cool and (to me) desirable, I now have a new quest: an entire farm of metal-bank animals that I want to put in my first child's bedroom as soon as possible. Or—who am I kidding?—in my own right now.

I've never been much of a necklace person, but I bought a locket on eBay a few months ago that I've been wearing here and there to spruce up simple shirts ever since. My only complaint is that it's a bit too conservative and "Plain Jane Lady." So this is what I'm thinking (and maybe this is the same kind of insane move as the one I tried for two months back in '83 when I wore multiple crucifixes—thanks for the memories, Madonna!): I want to start layering multiple lockets at different lengths and sizes. Not multiple like 10, but maybe three at a time on thin delicate chains. They'd all have to be a little tarnished and antique-looking, though, and I'd pair them with romantic dresses (maybe with a slight ruffle? Or floral? But not both). I like this tiny art nouveau oval version, this almost 2-inch round one, and how could you resist this pretty little thing with a bird on it that's shaped like a heart?

It's increasingly becoming apparent that I need a real person's desk. One with drawers that work, a level surface, and not missing one of its tiny rubber feet. I've been trying to find something affordable for days now, something located not too far away from my apartment so I won't get killed on shipping, and something that does not look like I purchased it at Staples. How about this handsome blond wood piece? It's relatively compact but still has a good deal of storage and a substantial desktop. It's also pretty close by in Jersey. And the final selling point for those of us who ruin things? The owner says this desk is built like a tank.

I'm having so many summer daydreams lately. I just can't wait for the weather to be super-warm, even humid, to the point that if you were a man, you would be suffering, but because you're a woman with the option of dresses, you feel perfectly breezy and sexy—like an actress in some old, steamy, exotic-location movie. I'm particularly looking forward to wearing flatter-than-flat sandals and loose dresses with wild, Indian-style prints. I love this apron tunic and this floaty, embroidered look, and this long-sleeved hippie version would be great at the beach.

So I was in L.A. last week and was invited to go horseback riding (of all things, I know) and I wanted to bring my camera, wallet, phone, and maybe even some lip gloss, but my purse would not cooperate (it's just weird to be riding a horse with a shoulder bag, let's be honest). Then I was thinking about all the times where it would've been helpful to have some kind of arms-free bag: bike riding, airports, the subway, walking around foreign cities, grocery shopping on really low shelves, etc. And—not that this is even an option—a fanny pack is just not enough space for all my walking-around needs. Then I remembered the most useful of all my childhood accessories: my backpack. What if I could find one that was really stylish? In leather maybe, a little beaten up, and vintage? Of course eBay has just the thing. Check out this and this and this and this and this cool woven black one that I actually just bought for less than five bucks.

I know this is not what you'd call healthy (I'm working on it), but I tend to dislike different parts of my body in a seasonal pattern. Summer brings butt and thigh issues, in winter it's facial self-consciousness, and well, in spring, I feel a little weird about my arms. But you know what's great for arm self-consciousness? BELL SLEEVES. I discovered this when I bought a little gray bell-sleeved cardigan a couple of seasons ago and was shocked at what a dainty, lithe appearance its extra volume gave my upper limbs. On eBay today, I found these arm-slimming wonders: a tailored, bright yellow jacket, a versatile '70s dress , a work-appropriate Wyeth by Todd Magill outer layer, and this kind of unusual patterned tunic, which I'd wear open with a white tank, jeans, and leather sandals.

I recently had to quickly set up a home office, and by "office" I mean my aged cellphone, a laptop, a bought-at-West-Elm-but-put-together-poorly desk, an Internet provider that kicks me off every hour on the hour, and an outlet that doesn't even accept three prongs. Needless to say, this situation is a disaster. I need everything: a landline, a phone to match said landline, a printer, a scanner, a router, and a filing vessel (as well as a filing system to go with said filing vessel), along with the many, many office accoutrements that you never think about when you're nestled in an actual, well-stocked office. I'm not even sure where to begin (or how to afford everything), but I feel like if I can at least get the papers off my makeshift desk, I might be able to consider the problem more clearly. So, I'll start with this Herman Miller lateral filing cabinet, which not only has plentiful storage but is sleek and low enough that I can place all my soon-to-be-purchased devices atop it.

I kind of can't believe this, but I've actually been noticing a lot of celestial motifs on clothes this season—the kind of swirling "Milky Way meets fairies" images that my mom's New Agey friends often wore in my youth. And here's what's even more unbelievable: I don't hate the look. At least I don't hate the sleek, hip versions—the ones with clean little stars in neat little rows. (Does this make me a more linear thinker than those '80s goddesses? I don't know.) Three pieces this morning illustrate this perfectly: this puff-sleeved blouse, which I would wear without the belt with skinny jeans and flats; a sheer '40s-style dress; and this, a nod to the New Age ladies, from Anna Sui.

As if I needed any more magazines in my apartment, lately I've developed a fixation on tracking down super-old publications. I love the feel of them, the musty smell, the tone of the articles, the fashion, and most especially, the ads. I'm not even too snobby about what I buy, though I'm mostly focused on women's books from '60s and '70s. Today I found an amazing Ladies' Home Journal from '73 with Marilyn Monroe on the cover (Norman Mailer wrote the story), a groovy Harper's Bazaar from '69, and this gorgeous French Vogue from '61. All of them are super-inspiring stylewise and not too expensive, which makes this new addiction—while not in any way a solution to my clutter disorder—not the most unhealthy habit to have.

The other morning I was looking in my closet and feeling like, "How did things go so wrong? How is it that most of my dresses make me look pregnant? Who bought this stuff?" I wanted to give every one of those shapeless sacks away and erase all memory of my moment(s) of weakness to unflattering trends. But that seemed like a very dramatic waste. So I tried to salvage the situation by spending way too much time trying them on with a bunch of different belts. While most lent a bunchy, too-much-material, accordion midsection effect, I finally found a solution: A slinky, gold, '70s-disco, stretchy snake belt. Seriously, they're like neat little fashion rubber bands, and they give you a waist without pulling up too much fabric. I've been wearing mine a little lower and blousing the dress out over it a bit, so it pulls tighter on my butt and looks like a slouchy '80s minidress.  You can find three good versions of this belt on eBay here, here, and here.