My Six Months on the Wagon


Let me start by describing what scientists have deemed “The Fear.”


Ahh, The Fear. A feeling most of us are all too familiar with. It’s that feeling you get when you abruptly awake from the nightmare that was your previous evening. This untimely wake-up call is usually accompanied by your head in your hands and your decision to never drink again. The Fear is brought on by the distant memory that you’ve done something… to someone… at some point… somewhere… But you don’t know who, what, where, when or why. The appropriate response to this is being scared of running into anyone. The Fear.

Then there’s me. Who got so deeply intoxicated one fateful night in LA last April, that I was beyond waking up with any fear. Just a deeply misguided recollection that last night was normal. The only distant memory I had was from the drink that pushed me over the edge. You know the feeling. You can’t taste it on your lips or smell it in the air, but the flavor and scent of your last beverage is forever ingrained in your throbbing brain. For me it was some sort of grape disaster. I had managed to make it upstairs to the loft where they only served cocktails (so LA) opposed to the bud light I so classily attempted to order, so I told the bartender to surprise me. Mistake. He brewed up grape liquor, banana peppers and sadness into yellow Koolaid that I regrettably downed. And then I woke up.


Needless to say as I rolled over on the mystery tiles I had clearly spent my coma on, my first thought after where am I and where are my sunglasses, was that I’m never drinking again.

And apparently I had a hint of brain power left because I realized that everyone always says it and no one ever does it. So I wanted to put my money where my mouth was and actually go six whole months without drinking. Which I proudly did. My six months ended on Friday without having a single drop. I responded by ripping shots of tequila at 6pm, but that’s besides the point.


What I learned over the course of my six months sober was that I’m a thousand percent cooler and have a million times more fun when I’m not drinking.

Sober Sally

Sober Sally

Sober Sally

My game was absolutely on point. I stayed out later, and felt so much better waking up alive and being productive over the weekend.

Productive Saturday Sober Sally

Productive Saturday Sober Sally

I lost weight and kept it off, my mood dramatically improved. Overall, my quality of life became that much better.

The only negative result I found from this experience were peoples’ reactions to me as the sober girl at the party. A lot of people assumed that since I wasn’t drinking I wasn’t partying on the weekends, but actually my social life was really busy and fun-filled.

Sober Sally & Friends

Sober Sally & Friends

Oh ya gotta have friendsss

Oh ya gotta have friendsss

The worst part was when people felt uncomfortable around me because I was sober and they felt awkward like I was judging them – and that really made me sad.

Aside from running into that kind of thing every now and then, I think it was honestly the best 6 months of my life. We’ll see how I move forward, but after 6 months having it not be a priority it’s a little bit off my radar. Plus who has money to drink in New York?

#Yolo #Yesjustaredbull


UsTrendy and the Return of the T-shirt

Sam Sisakhti, Founder & CEO of UsTrendy

Sam Sisakhti, Founder & CEO of UsTrendy

I recently sat down with Sam Sisakhti the founder of UsTendy, a local fashion e commerce start up. Sam could not have fit the entrepreneur role better if he was molded out of clay. He was unconventional in that he quit his first job out of college after only 4 days. I don’t know about you, but if I tried to do that my parents would sit me down and talk about the downward spiral I was on and how the next thing they’d know I’d come home covered in tattoos with a baby.

Not Sam – he came home with a company that had experienced exponential growth in the last three years and a damn near household name. I asked Sam how he acquired connections such as London Fashion Week and his answer was among the best I’ve ever heard: “I just asked. I reached out on Twitter and people got back to me.”

Sam having had so much success in getting people to give him a chance was equally as helpful in giving me one. I guess successful people see success when they look it in the  beautiful blue eyes.


The second I told him I had a blog an opportunity arose (pun): “We can send you some clothes and help promote The Rose if you’re interested.”

Uh – yeah!

Thanks Sam!!

Upon this offer, I immediately set up a photo shoot with my brilliant director friend.

Stylist: UsTrendy & Skinny Bitch Apparel

Stylist: UsTrendy & Skinny Bitch Apparel

Which brings me to my next topic:

The Return of the T-shirt

UsTrendy Product Number: 50775

UsTrendy Product Number: 50775

Ever since I went to LA I’ve been getting deeply in touch with my inner glam rockstar; and nothing says rocker chic like the right T-shirt and an office-inappropriate shade of nail polish.


The first time I sported a T-shirt for anything other than gym-going was just two short months ago when I had an appearance to make in WeHo (that’s what all the cool kids call West Hollywood.) I borrowed a friend’s muscle T and felt like the biggest badass on the planet. Everyone there sports the T-shirt; it’s so LA to show up somewhere underdressed and over-fabulous.

Now I know why all the girls that rock boyfriend-jeans are so magnificent. It’s not that they’re hot it’s that being able to rock the care-free dude style creates the illusion and swagger of hotness.

So to glam up my muscle T I added a bright turquoise, layered statement necklace and I was good to go. I fit right in with all the beautiful people.

But now that I’m home, I think it’s even better… No one here rocks the T like they do in LA – so I’m the only one. And thanks to Mr. Sisakhti and Skinny Bitch Apparel – I’m bringing sexy back.

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An Ode to Magnolia Cupcakes…

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Dear Sweet, Playful, Cupcake,

What trickery your invisible peel can be. It’s almost cruel to have something so time-consuming blocking something so scrumptious, yet serving such a special purpose. As I peel you from your paper cup I notice the tiny detailing in your very being: your sugar daisy placed ever so gingerly atop the peak of your mountain of frosting. Such luscious, decadent frosting that has generously smudged onto your perfect, white baker’s box for me to flick a taste with my finger. What heaven the first taste is, as I release you from your papery prison and send you to my lips – pausing just long enough for your perfume to fill my nostrils. Then my teeth sink in to your frosting swirled top and down through your perfect soft vanilla core and release it in a bite so satisfying, I can hardly wait to take one more.

I know I just posted an Ode but this had to be done. I’ve tried desperately to talk about things other than food in this blog, but I can bear it no longer.

I went on a trip to NYC this past weekend and no trip to the big city is ever complete without a nice big cupcake from Magnolia Bakery. None of that Baked by Melissa stuff. I always feel so ashamed when I go there and I get a dozen cupcakes for myself. I don’t care if they’re bite sized I’m still cramming a dozen cupcakes into my face hole. I much prefer one nice light, fluffy, perfectly iced cupcake from Magnolia.

Magnolia is such a New York staple they should start calling the city ‘The Big Cupcake.’ I have yet to see an apple that can measure up…

I went to New York for a few reasons… Firstly, it’s the best city on earth. Second, the Belmont Stakes horse race was this weekend and you can’t call yourself a true fake Southerner unless you dabble in betting the house on the ponies (also wearing big hats.) And lastly, my incredibly talented Director friend and I planned a lovely photo shoot to showcase my 5’4” cupcake loving model bod, and get some fun pictures for my blog.

I thought that as a ‘thank you’ there was nothing better to bring him than a six-pack of Magnolia’s finest.

I was right. There was nothing better because he’s on his way to LA and has already crossed over to the dark side of cutting out carbs and wouldn’t eat them. I enjoyed three Magnolia treasures; one red velvet and two vanilla, while my hungry director captured World War Cupcake on film.

Here’s lookin’ at you cupcake! Let the montage begin…

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An Ode to Bread…



My dear sweet crisp bread,

How I long for you inside me. Your warm flakes floating to my lap as I gently tug you apart and reveal your soft, fluffy center. Your scent filling my nostrils with the sweet nectar of the bakers devotion; warming my face as your steam dances across my cheek in a passionate waltz. And then the butter. Soft, creamy, melting butter. Cascading upon your nooks and crannies – oozing with delight, melding with you so seamlessly in a whirlwind of savor. Tickling my palette with your coalescence of texture. This is no ordinary first course. This is heaven showing us a glimpse of the light through carbs. (Inspiration: Marshall’s monologue on the perfect burger in How I Met Your Mother 00:40)

I recently went on a mini vaca to LA and NO ONE eats bread there. I realize I’m writing a blog post about delicious carbohydrates, but what I encountered in LA left me so deeply offended I deemed it internet-worthy. No one in LA will touch the stuff. I’m talking boys, girls, that person on the corner on the unicycle you’re not exactly sure about – no one.

I ordered a croissant for breakfast one morning, and everyone stopped and stared at me like I went against the architecture of the dream in Inception – only Joseph Gordon Levitt didn’t kiss me. They all order their burgers wrapped in lettuce aka “Adam and Eve style.” Gross. Call me crazy but if I wanted a lettuce wrap, I’d be at the Cheesecake Factory.

I don’t even know how they do it. I caved on Passover before we got to drink the first glass of wine.

If you’re willing to go to such extremes for abs you deserve them.


Ily max