When I was little I had a reoccurring fantasy about a babysitter. Before you let all your guy friends know it’s time to frequent A Gold Noise lemme clarify it’s not that kind of fantasy. Somewhere between my early discovery of Seventeen magazine and Don’t Tell Mom the Babysitter’s Dead I dreamed of going on an awe-inspiring, fashionable voyage with a bad-ass teenager.

Tell me you’ve been there! Six to eleven years old all I could wonder is, “what will I look like when I’m a teen?” When will my curves come, when will the boys knock down my door, when will I too be old enough to babysit? Until then it was a dream to have an older, stunning girl show me the ropes of growing up.

My sister Dawny was pretty darn close to my ideal only falling short in moving out when I was so young. But when she lived with us she was my perfection. She scurried around in the hippest of 80’s fashions, switching from straight out of a music video to gorgeous blonde cheerleader. She’d crimp my hair and I’d peek out the window and watch her wait for her Ken doll to pick her up.

As wonderful as it is to become an independent, accomplished adult, the whole discovery of what it is to be a carefree girl was inexhaustibly fun. I spent countless hours in my pink bedroom staring at my face and simply picturing it bigger and with makeup; what else could the future bring? I puppeteered my prettiest dolls to live out my ideal of a teen’s life. They dated imaginary cute boys and were beloved and envied by all the imaginary popular girls.

My teen years proved to be a universe away from any of my ideals- no boys, shabby fashion sense, and prototypical theater nerd- but, hey, it was fun to fantasize all the same… <3

Solve Sundsbo

For a while I was thinking: I’m a twenty six year old professional errand-runner. Of course if anyone asked, “I’m an actress and writer!” However, the sinking economy had taken the boatload of my professions down with it. At twenty three I was a celebrity stylist assistant, often taking lead in photoshoots for television shows and magazines. By twenty four I was a consistently paid writer fashion editing a magazine and freelancing for Universal Music Group. By twenty five it was all gone, some by choice but most by the force of plummeting markets. Gigs that used to seek out SAG actresses begged for non-union and clothing lines who once threw money left and right offered pathetic pennies to get the job done.

Despite the troubling facts good fortune followed me and made it difficult to ever feel sorry for myself. While styling a promotional shoot for a TV show one of the lead actors approached me about personal assistant work for him and his wife. Four years later they are my enthusiastic cheerleaders, generous bosses, sources of grocery and rent, as well as genuine friends. Still, at the end of the day I could think, “I run errands… for a living.”

Well, what does that bring? They have freed me to never miss an audition, modeling gig, or opportunity. Not to mention these foundational years of my marriage were free of stressful jobs or distractions. It’s been me and Drew enjoying one another. Also to PA a successful actor made for a job where I never felt too many millions of miles from my desires.

Fast-forward to last week and Kim, my best friend and genius of Wildfox, offered me a job beyond our usual fun photoshoots. I adore her so much because although I’ve never asked for a job she’s always given them to me freely and with confidence. “Would you want to design store windows for us?” and later, “You want to help us style our shoots?” Well, hell yes.

So Kim and I played big time Barbies together. We dressed and placed nine mannequins for a store in Pasadena that wanted to feature Wildfox. I felt like a kid in a candy shop while we perused the place for cute pieces, dug through our bags of tights and jewels, and christened each girl with a wig of our choice. These Barbies are a hell of a lot more cumbersome than the ones we used to have but the sheer weight of them gave us a workout to boot- every twenty six year old fashion lover’s dream!

Next week I’ll be helping Kim, Emily, and Meredith dress our three gorgeous models for Wildfox’s next shoot. It will be a lot of errands and a handful of taking backseat and PA’ing but  I can call myself “actress, writer, PA, AND stylist” again, which I love.

Jason Ell

You make me feel guilty when I take so long to post. Please know I’m just trying to make sure my writings are inspired and not strained. I have one for tomorrow.

In the meantime, did anyone else have this?!

Sooo good.

Delicious photos by Mariano Vivanco

Kim and I were talking the other night and confessed to each other that we could still play Barbies. At least, we’re pretty sure we’d still find it to be awesome.  She went as far as to admit that she searched ebay until she realized, “What’s wrong with me? What am I gonna do with a bunch of naked Barbies?!” 

However, we sat in her driveway staring at each other, wondering if this is something we should move ahead with. I resolved that we would actually, really play dolls well together and that fact would make us giant freaks.

This begs the question, are there closet-case Barbie owners and “players” out there in the world? Are they our friends? Our coworkers? Because I can tell you one thing, if I was sure I’d never get caught, or could at the very least talk my way around Drew when he discovered them under our bed, I would buy them tomorrow!

I mean, really, I only stopped because I was supposed to!

OK, enough. I’m going to be calm and clearheaded about this… No Barbies.

from here