Tall drink of water

I've seen Sigg aluminum bottles around, at kitchen stores, grocery stores and even bike stores. Officially, though, I'd say the yogis had it first, having spotted a few at a recent Bikram class and on the street, usually carried together with a rolled-up mat.

Perhaps there's something to the average yoga consumer that naturally gravitates toward the practical, organic and chic (Lululemon, anyone?), and as a wannabe yogi in need of a good, resuable bottle, I was all for their latest approved product. Sigg, a Swiss company better known in Europe, offers a wide range of sizes and styles. There's the large, plain ones, favored by yoga enthusiasts, the kid-friendly small, cartoony ones, and a perfectly purse-sized, classic black one for me.

Salt of the earth

Salt stains on my shoes are the absolute bane of my winter existence. No matter how carefully I step or how immediately I wipe, at the end of the day, I look down and there are those pesky, jagged lines of white scrawled onto my boots. Sure the salt is distressing to leather, but what really eats away at me is the embarrassment of its unkempt appearance. Exacerbating the situation is its inevitability--unless you have car service, you have likely worn salt-stained shoes in public.

A friend once told me about one winter's night when he was looking particularly fine, decked out in new duds from head to toe, and went to party at a hot, new club. The place was hopping: the music good, the people fun. But he left early, sullen and in a foul mood. Why? He couldn't stand the look of the salt stains on his shoes. He had tried to wipe his shoes with paper towel in the restroom but, alas, the stains remained.

At the time, I thought his reaction was a bit much. But, today, looking down at my salt-stained boots, I feel his pain.

Brand awareness

It's hard to go wrong with wearing Gucci or Louis Vuitton... unless you're a politician speaking out against capitalism.

Tip of the hat

The problem with berets is that they scream "beret." There's nothing subtle about the stylin' French cap that seems to be everywhere these days. But if you're set on wearing one and are neither French nor in France, there are some considerations to keep in mind. The key being in the placement. Tilting it to the side is just dorky. What you want is to have some hair (ideally your thick, chic bangs) showing in the front and framing your face. Et voila.

Even better? Floppy berets. Because they don't look so, well, beret-ish.

Doin' the twist

There's a strange move that's taken over my gym. Rarely a visit goes by without me noticing ladies in the changeroom fastening their bras in the front then swiveling them around to their proper position. It's done quickly and awkwardly. I wonder if stretching helps.

You can count on me

During long stretches of gloomy, dreary weather, nothing says comfort quite like a black cardigan sweater. Easy, dependable and always appealing, you could say it's the mac n' cheese of the clothing world.

Picture perfect

Being camera-shy really isn't an option these days. It seems everywhere you turn there's a camera-phone or digital camera snapping away, capturing life's every little moment and then some. Personally, I've never liked having my photo taken. The worst being ID photos. I always felt there was something a bit phony about them. A stiff pose. A faked smile. Picture day in grade school was a torturous ordeal. I would practice the night before, looking in the mirror and posing: smiling not too much to scrunch my eyes, not too little to look uncomfortable; chin down; face angled to the "good" side; shoulders down; clothing adjusted; hair just so; breathe in. Oh, and look natural.

So last week, when I found out I could have my work ID re-taken, I was torn. As much as I disliked being photographed, I was also partly thrilled. The photo I had for the past year was so objectively terrible--I had biked to work in on a high-heat-alert day and didn't know I was having my picture taken--that it outweighed the overall dread.

Oddly enough, it was the thought of Victoria Beckham that eased my usual photo anxiety. On picture day, a colleague reminded me of the TV special where Posh goes to the DMV. She gets all posy-posy as if being photographed for a magazine shoot. She looked ridiculous to me at the time--I mean, it was just her driver's license photo. But perhaps she (and it pains me to admit it, but Paris Hilton with her trademark red-carpet pose as well) are onto something: If there's a camera around, might as well work it. Right.