They Call Me Trinity

Much like Amelia’s habit of over-sharing (case in point the monster-ating post. bleck) I have a problem.  I blame it on years of Catholic school.  Actually, I like to blame most of my problems on the thirteen years in the prison that is Jesus’ love, followed by the never-ending probationary period of “Catholic guilt”.  The problem is everything needs to be in sets of threes.  Picture frames on a wall – three.  Adjectives in a sentence – three.  Lists of things that need to be in sets of three – three.  That St. Patrick really did a number on me with his three leaf clover.  Imaginary hats off to you, Paddy O’Malley. 

So, like all things in my life: The Good, The Bad, The Ugly (nailed it) my SWF list of role models fits neatly into a tri-cornered box.  The Father – Anna Wintour; The Son – My Gwyneth; The Holy Spirit – Deanie Dempsey. 

Florals? For spring? Ground breaking.

Anna Wintour: The Devil Wears Prada.  Case closed.  We don’t need a woman president, Anna Wintour rules the world.  You think I’m joking?  Ask Victoria Beckham what she WOULDN’T do to be on the cover of U.S. Vogue.  “AW declares tiny dogs are out and babies are the newest Birkin accessory = Blouses, Harper Seven.  Hope you always wanted to live in a handbag.” Disclaimer: I’m not condoning Birkin babies, unless you poke holes in the bag but, that seriously reduces the value of your real estate.  Your call.  I’m just making the point that AW does what she wants.  She runs things.  That woman’s ass gets kissed more than Terry Richardson’s man parts during his Lindsay Lohan photo shoot. 

Don’t believe me?  Just ask Meryl:  “You think this has nothing to do with you. You go to your closet and you select… I don’t know… that lumpy blue sweater, for instance because you’re trying to tell the world that you take yourself too seriously to care about what you put on your back. But what you don’t know is that that sweater is not just blue, it’s not turquoise. It’s not lapis. It’s actually cerulean. And you’re also blithely unaware of the fact that in 2002, Oscar de la Renta did a collection of cerulean gowns. And then I think it was Yves Saint Laurent… wasn’t it who showed cerulean military jackets? I think we need a jacket here. And then cerulean quickly showed up in the collections of eight different designers. And then it, uh, filtered down through the department stores and then trickled on down into some tragic Casual Corner where you, no doubt, fished it out of some clearance bin. However, that blue represents millions of dollars and countless jobs and it’s sort of comical how you think that you’ve made a choice that exempts you from the fashion industry when, in fact, you’re wearing the sweater that was selected for you by the people in this room from a pile of stuff.”

Who do I have to bang to get an advance copy of the new @coldplay album? I mean, really.

Gwyneth Paltrow:  Controversial.  I know.  As soon as you’re finished vomiting in your own mouth, hear me out.  I love Gwyneth.  If Anna Wintour is the Queen Bitch then Gwyn is the Kate Middleton.   She plays at being “just another one of the girls” but really, there’s no chance.  Unless of course your girls are Stella McCartney, Cammie D (*besties*), Reese, Kate Hudson, and Beyonce.  Us mortals will never be princesses and we will never be invited over to Gwyn’s for a last minute Sunday night dinner with Jose Andres.  Gwyn’s appetizer = dragon fruit and tomato.  Tara’s appetizer = box of Samoas.  I deal. 

This brings me to Goop.  I. Love.  Goop.  Goop makes my Thursday mornings.    MAKE, GO, GET, DO, BE or SEE.  MAKE : goop approved cleanse.  Check.  GO : Lisbon with Randy Poster, music supervisor for the Royal Tenenbaums.  Check Check.  GET: Jimmy Choos for “a day full of meetings”.  Checkers.  DO : Start a small business.  You know like our friends over at Instagram.  NBD.  Checkity Check.  Have I made my point?  Gwyneth is eye-rollingly ahmahzing.  When I’m feeling down I like to read her gift giving guides.  Spoiler Alert: It includes monogrammed Louis Vuitton luggage sets.  Classic Gwyn.   

The only thing better than this picture is that coat.

Deanie Dempsey: Unlike my other two snarky obsessions, Ms. Deanie is someone actually worth knowing.  My friend Kelsie is essentially Army royalty and is good family friends with the Dempseys.  (For those who live under rocks like in that terrible Geico commercial, Gen Dempsey is the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff.  Way more important than saving 15% on Car Insurance.  Current Events lesson of the day.)  But before he became the big man on campus, Gen. Dempsey was just that guy who hung out with Kelsie’s dad.  Or more importantly, in my mindball, he was Ms. Deanie’s husband. 

 Kelsie started telling me stories about this mythical “Ms. Deanie” and she quickly became my unicorn.  Nothing that awesome could exist in real life.  Bolderdash.  At the risk of sounding like the craziest stalker in all the land (which maybe I am, whatevs) Ms. Deanie is insanial.  She is super involved with Wounded Warriors, the VA, and Military Spouses and Families.  She has an events calendar that makes The Wintour look like a Kappa Kappa Gamma during rush week.  Her grace, humility, and compassion are unmatched.  She is one of the few people who make me want to be a better person, or at least a little bit less of an asshole.  And we both use Rent the Runway.  Basically soulmates. 

As my friend Elle put it on facebook. “1) Sick timeline. 2) “Tara Likes Deanie Dempsey.” Duh. 3) HAHAHAHAHAHAH.

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