I ran away. Fled from the stubborn stench of smoke, the tangled logistics of temporary housing, the relentless churn of grief, stress and problem solving. I needed to come up for air--space to breathe (without hearing about debris or the DWP), even if just for 36 hours. So I boarded a 90-minute United flight to , where my twin sister is shooting. At the hotel, I recognized a couple from my flight. We exchanged glances, polite nods. "Escaping the cold in LA," they said. They must be from another part of LA, because I wasn't running from 55-degree weather. Now I'm here, sharing a king sized bed with my sis, stretching out on a chaise lounge, waiting for her to wrap up a work, trying to feel normal. Which will mean taking a long bike ride, reading my book, shopping in the hotel's gift shop (I already spied the made-in-Mexico shell-trimmed bags below), and, yes, scrolling for sun-kissed styles that whisper of brighter days ahead. Because even in the midst of uncertainty, some things remain constant: the pursuit of comfort, a sense of ease, and of course, the perfect dress(es) that make me feel a little lighter. Soon, I hope to slip into these by , , , , , , and . P.S. I'm wearing a new heart pendant from and never-take-off beads, this suit, and a beloved .