This summer, according to Instagram, every single twenty-eight-year-old girl got married. Except for me—and a few of my single girlfriends. “I thought I’d be married at twenty-two,” one of my friends lamented to me the other day on the phone. “And have at least three children by twenty-eight.” Yes, I thought. We all did, didn’t we? That was back when we were ten and twenty-two seemed like several lifetimes away (or at least after a shit ton of summer breaks and Christmases). Now, I can’t . . .
Outfit Details Anthropologie Top, BCBG Skirt, Prada Sunglasses (20% off), Mara Envelope Bag The other week I took the ferry each night from Balboa Island to a different restaurant in Newport Beach for happy hour. I went by myself—something that I really enjoy doing when I’m traveling and that I’ve been making more of a point to do when I’m home. When you meet a friend out for dinner or a drink you have a pretty accurate idea of how your night will unfold. You can even anticipate the types of . . .