So I this week I’m on vacation. I’m on the beach, actually, right this very moment, breathing in that salty, sea air, and soaking up some fabulous rays and getting a glorious tan. I realize it is technically post-season, but it’s my first real vacation in two years, so I’m not going to gripe about the fact that I’m not supposed to sport white footwear as of yesterday. I’m really not. I may gripe about missing most of New York Fashion Week and the Idol Magazine party this Wednesday, but not about getting to finally relax on a beach far away from any cares I might have, absolutely not.

Of course, the night before Fifi & Himay and I flew out, I rushed home from the office to do my laundry. My largest concern at that point (aside from planning a Fashion’s Night Out strategy for my social media stand-in) was how, exactly I was going to fit all of this

plus my (limited to) three pairs of footwear

into this. (Please note: That suitcase is only slightly taller than that chair is wide.)

But I managed to. See?

I didn’t dare open it until we got to Myrtle Beach for fear the zippers on my poor roll-on would bust open. In any case, a few hours of packing, logistics, and Boys Town Live, and I was hopping in the car to LaGuardia Airport. Now, here I am, poolside no doubt, sipping a margarita and enjoying my week of an empty schedule.