April 21, 2016
In
C'est Ma Vie
By
tamia
I knew this would happen someday. After the too-soon deaths of Michael, Whitney, Amy, and so many others, I knew I would lose my favorite at some point. But I was totally unprepared for Prince’s death, news of which came yesterday via TMZ (how do they always know?). I was on a photo shoot and just happened to be browsing Twitter when the questions started popping up. Was it true? Was it a hoax? My
One beautiful, sunny (and extremely windy) afternoon, I broke out my favorite blue velvet flares and got my baby hair in order to meet photographer Damon Wilson and Queen City Vignette’s Amber Zaragoza for a photo shoot. The star of the shoot? No, not me. A chair.
Not just any chair, though. Genevieve - which totally sounds like a historical American Girl doll I would’ve loved - is a vintage settee made of carved wood and
February 2, 2016
In
C'est Ma Vie
By
tamia
Can you believe it's been a whole year since we started Thread Cincinnati? We're extremely grateful for all the support we've received since we started this new adventure, so in honor of the quickly-approaching Valentine's Day, we want to spoil one of our readers with a gift!
Use the rafflecopter below to enter to win the coveted + blogger-favorite Clare Vivier leopard clutch, a gorgeous Kendra Scott Rayne Necklace, and a L'Oreal Paris Infallible Pro-Matte Lip Color! We really appreciate all of our readers
I've never considered myself much of a talker--I already know what I think, so I'm much more interested in what other people have to say--but my job as a Stylist means I'm regularly talking to creative types about their businesses, their projects, and their motivation. Which is fascinating.
I get to have amazing conversations with entrepreneurs, designers, publicists, retailers, makers, and more, and I love to share their stories. The problem is, I'm a terrible storyteller. Like, horrible.
January 7, 2016
In
C'est Ma Vie
By
tamia
It’s been blessedly, unseasonably warm, but I can feel the winter blues setting in. Anyone who’s spent a January or two north of the Mason-Dixon line can attest to the mild depression that permeates the cold-weather months: it’ dark when you get up and when you get home, there’s no real reason to do anything except camp on the couch with hot cocoa and Netflix, and the idea of subjecting your poor, innocent body to
