The Fiance, Part 1

It Started with a Shirt: Kaviar & Cigarette's Kissy Fish

When I met the fiance nearly five years ago I was in a "no dating" mode.  Famous last words, eh?  My little heart had just been smashed to smithereens by a cheating jerk, and I was self-healing by hanging with homies and being a "Hollywood Party Girl".  One pre-fateful weekend I went to a local designer sample sale in downtown LA.  It is part of my hippie ethics to never buy anything new - including clothing (except for the delicates, but that is for sanitary reasons).  However, I make an exception if I am buying something from a local designer.  I have a lot of friends with clothing lines, and I really believe in supporting their art.  This said, I am also incredibly frugal (not cheap, FRUGAL), and could never fathom spending the amounts some people charge.

So when I stumbled across Kaviar & Cigarettes sample sale and saw their prices, despite my attraction to their unique and custom pieces, I just couldn't do it.  The price tags had three digits BEFORE the decimal for tops and this was a SAMPLE SALE!  If you've never been, this is when designers clean out their sample-size inventory for waaaaay cheap - like $5-50 for everything.  Then a certain t-shirt caught my eye.  Totally not my style, but something told me I had to have it, and I plonked down the 50 bones for it.

The next weekend I was lazing around the Hollywood Farmers Market with three of my party pals, sporting my new Kaviar & Cigarettes tee, when I hear "is that Kaviar & Cigarettes?"  I look up to see who asked and find myself face to face with Mr. Hotty McHotterton.  He was wearing dark and stylie shades that kept me from making eye contact, which is totally a pet peeve of mine.  Below the shades was a very stylie ensemble that told me this cat was too cool for school. "Uh, what?  Oh, yeah, yes it is" was my uuber suave reply.  Long story short he said he knew the designer and had a line himself.  He asked my name and I said "Dori" (coz that's my name).  To this he finally pulled down his shades (um, hello sexy eyes) and said "No way! My name's Jory".  Yes.  Our names are Dori and Jory.  Puke.

This little street exchange happened just as LA Fashion Week was starting.  He invited me to his show the following week and handed me a biz card, and I walked away feeling more than a little butterfly-ish.

...and that's the story of how we met: all due to a fateful t-shirt.  Though if you ask me in person I typically just say "on Hollywood Boulevard".

Stay tuned for parts 2-1,000,000...or maybe I'll condense it to like three parts...?  We'll see.  I like the dude, so talking about him is one of my top 10 favorite subjects.