Please meet my new friend Vivian.

Since we first met at Madison in Malibu, where most of my longest and most remarkable relationships have taken flight, Vivian and I have been inseparable. From the moment I laid eyes on Vivian, I knew we would get along famously. But let me stop gushing about her, and let you meet her yourself. Friends, this is Vivian.

Vivian takes shape in the most perfect wooden wedge with leather straps known to mankind. Without a doubt, Vivian is everything. Okay - at the risk of sounding materialistic – I’ll admit it, some possessions just make me the happiest girl. Allow me to elaborate. I’ve been known to fall asleep in clogs because I just loved them too much to take off. I’ve cried tears of joy over the most beautiful scalloped edge, brown butter leather Tory Burch coat. And I’ve worn outfits out of the dressing room because I just couldn’t live one more second without them. While I can’t say for certain as I haven’t experienced it, if I could compare the joy Vivian brings me, I would liken it seeing a baby take its first steps. Maybe I shouldn’t be having children anytime soon. And that’s fine, because I have Vivian, and I just can’t wait to introduce her to the killer wide leg jeans I just picked up from the tailor, the maxi dresses in my closet awaiting her arrival, and the cut off shorts that are dying to take Viv out to the beach.

 

Vivian makes me feel so retro. So Farrah Fawcett. So 70’s. And I even got the stamp of approval from my very own flower child, my mom. My lovely mother was in Los Angeles for the weekend, and witnessed her very own daughter fall in love at first sight. Giving me the thumbs up, my momma pranced through Europe in a pair of wooden wedges herself at the sweet age of 17. So if someone wanted to send me to Europe, I wouldn’t be opposed. I mean, I do have the perfect shoes.

Speaking of my mom, she really is wonderful. And no, I’m not saying this to earn brownie points, or edge out my sister for favorite daughter of all time, I did that long ago. But thank you, mom, for the early birthday present. And for cooking me dinner and leaving leftovers. And for the beautiful flowers on my desk. And for the most hilarious moustache stamp that will be gracing every piece of paper that passes through my hands. I’m not sure how I got so lucky to have such a phenomenal mother, but I’m sure I’ll be getting back everything I ever dished out in the form of an obnoxious daughter just like me someday. I should start hoping for boys. And now I’m one of those creepy girls who talks about imaginary future children. Great.

That's my baby sister, Madeline. My mom. And yours truly.