I understand that most of the world is currently obsessed with Lady Gaga. I get it. That doesn’t mean that I’m any different. I saw her show on Monday night in St. Paul and it was nothing short of faboo! The outfits, the theatrics, the jazzy pop music with an almost-sinister twist—Lady Gaga’s show was just too much fun for words. The entire evening was enchanted, intriguing and made me wonder, “What would happen if Lady Gaga was president?”

:: A leotard with ripped fishnets would be the national uniform of choice. On special occasions, we could spice things up with wands and festive hats.

:: The wig industry would grow to over one million times its current size.

:: “Alejandro” would become the most popular baby name. (Move over, Emily! So passé.)

:: The constitution would read, “We the Little Monsters of the United States, in order to form a more perfect Dance Party…”

Ahhh….a girl can dream (with all the glitter, hairspray and fake eyelashes she’s got). And while it might seem so fantastical to imagine Gaga as president for a minute or two, she’s well placed exactly where she is right now—as the best entertainer of the decade.

Here's a photo I took of Gaga as she sat at the piano and sang. Her slower songs at the piano, while very different than the upbeat craziness of the rest of the show, was one of my favorite parts.

Hats (and wigs) off to Gaga for a great show in Minnesota!

It’s rare that I come across someone who is a bigger diva than me. But that’s just what happened last weekend as I lounged poolside in Texas. It was a lazy afternoon after a night of staying out late and dancing for hours. I was sitting in a chair with my black, oversized floppy hat, Jackie O sunglasses, sheer leopard print cover-up and St. John bikini on, but as I scanned the landscape, I realized that I was not the biggest fashionista at the pool.

Towards the deep end of the pool, I spied a guy who could nearly trump my seriously understated style. His getup? A headscarf adorned with a giant Chanel logo and those glasses from Lady Gaga’s Paparazzi video. You know, the ones that make her look like Mickey Mouse? I was in the company of a serious style maven. But nothing prepared me for the divalicious bag he was toting: an oversized, white Chanel beach bag.

I was overcome with emotion—a little admiration, a touch of jealously (where DID he find those Lady Gaga glasses) and a bit of wonder. Who was this stylish gent? Should I introduce myself? Would we be instant best friends or would I just grab his bag and run off? I just did what anyone would do in the company of a seriously intimidating diva: stare. Oh, and I (obviously) took a couple Pretty & Poor Paparazzi pictures.

His poolside style was fierce and eccentric. I loved it. And who am I kidding? We would have been great friends.

Last week, Pretty and Poor was featured on Denim Debutante, a fabulous blog about all things denim! Check out my interview by clicking here! And make sure to leave the fabulous Jaime at Denim Debutante some love!

Enjoy reading my interview!

My Dad and I are kind of in a Facebook fight. I never really thought my life would come to this. And I definitely never thought I’d hear myself utter those words. My Dad and I are in a Facebook fight. But I have reason to be agitated.

Here’s some background. A lot of girls really hate being seen in swimsuits. It’s always a tricky situation. I don’t mind being seen in a swimsuit, but certain things have to align:

1) I have to be ready for it. No surprise attacks or people looking at me that I didn’t expect. I’m comfortable hanging out with minimal clothing, as long as I know who’s around and what they’ll be doing.

2) The swimsuit has to be awesome. I prefer to be photographed or seen in my St. John bikini because it looks the best on me—not only is it slimming, the colors were made for my hair and complexion.

3) Pictures must be posed. Cellulite happens when your fat gets smooshed against a raft or inner-tube. And when you’re in your swimsuit, there’s no fabric there to cover-up or conceal any imperfections. If you have to snap a picture at pool day, you better hope I’m standing up (and at an angle), sucking in and smiling big. Or I’ll throw your camera in the pool.

I think you can see where this is going. On Saturday morning I was busy getting stuff done. My phone started flashing, indicating that I’d received an email, and I ignored it for a few minutes. Then, finally, I picked up my phone to check my alerts. They were from Facebook. My dad tagged me in three pictures.

It should be noted that earlier this year my father tagged a picture of me sleeping on Christmas Eve. I’m wrapped up in a satiny blanket with the dog, wearing leopard print pajamas by Ralph Lauren. All of my friends found this picture hilarious. You see, I have an “image” to maintain and this picture didn’t quite fit the image. (Since this picture now seems like kid stuff compared to what I'm about to divulge, I've included the photo below.)

But on Saturday, the pictures were much worse. As I clicked-through the alert to see what photos my father tagged me in, a picture started to load that made my stomach drop. There, for all of Facebook to see, was a picture of me on the family boat wearing a white and red nautical bikini. I’m not really sucking in. I’m not really looking all that great. And I’m definitely not wearing any make-up.

Thanks Dad.

My dad is friends with all of my friends. There’s just too many common connections. And by 2:00 p.m. I’m fairly certain that everyone in my extended network (business contacts, secret lovers and ex-boyfriends included) saw my sunburned body, circa 2006, in a nautical bikini at the top of their newsfeed. My Dad argued that the picture was adorable. Then he argued that the picture was taken in public and if I didn’t want to be seen in public like that I should reconsider my swimsuit choices. But when you’re on floating hunk of fiberglass off the coast of Florida, things are different.

I have been on Facebook since 2004. And during some of that time I was in college. And amazingly enough I managed to keep most incriminating pictures at bay. But the minute my dad joins Facebook, the stuff that ruins political careers starts seeping through the woodwork.

If any of you read the blog Meagan Gets Her MRS, you probably recognized a very familiar face in the latest post. Meagan is a sorority sister of mine from college who recently started a blog about wedding planning! She has some great ideas and fabulous insight. So if you're planning a wedding, head on over for some uber-classy inspiration.

Her latest post was all about the beauty of the bouquet toss. And, low and behold, I made several of the pictures. Look for me wearing a flashy red dress!

Thanks for the paparazzi shots, Meagan! And I actually blogged about catching the bouquet after this wedding. Click here to read the original post.