A quick trip to New York on June 1 ended up a two week stint in my old city I used to call home. 

When I lived in New York, I worked for a sexy fashion designer (DVF), where I was at my desk by 8:30am, and straight to happy hour{s} by 8:30pm.  A canvas bag held my days worth of necessities- foldable flats, minimal makeup re-freshers, a hair brush, and my signature scent.

The canvas bag stayed with me all night long, erasing and re-painting in a moments time, casually slipping on and off my heels, a spritz here and there. There's a formula for a working girl who only sees her $2,500/month studio for 7 hours a day: travel with as much and as little as you need to stay looking like your next encounter is your first. 

However, this time, I had no desk-- just my keepsake canvas bag, as I ran from the Upper East Side downtown to Soho, across to Chelsea, and over to Meatpacking District, from morning to night, for meetings and styling appointments. Slipping on my heels, spritzing, re-applying, and tucking away the evidence in my ambiguous Valentino handbag...

Only to crash back at my Upper East Side apartment by midnight with an oversized smile and a story like only in New York...