My Darlings

Before I get on with what I have to say, let me wish you all a very Merry Christmas. I know this sounds odd, but here at LoveFifi.com it is the Holidays. We are in turbo gear getting ready for the Fall,Christmas and Valentine's seasons. It all has to be done in July-September in order to be ready with new and exciting lingerie delicacies for you. We are hurrying like mad to get it all done in the next few weeks... and you guessed it, I can't write an article this week.

I love writing about what's on my mind, but at the moment, what's on my mind is a big meeting with the whole staff on Monday about "Gifts with Purchase" and give-aways for my customers that are in the works! We have our last photo shoot of the year coming up next Tuesday and one of our models just dropped out and I am scrambling to find a replacement. I am writing descriptions for our new items as fast as I can so we can get the new goodies up and ready for you to view. The list goes on.

I had fully intended to spill the beans about what really goes on in yoga class. I just had my second session and I am ready to tell all. The truth of the matter is that I am out-of-my-mind busy and I am not going to write something that doesn't make you laugh. I promise my yoga experience will make you laugh out loud, but it's not going to be until next week. Hopefully you can wait. You have always been so forgiving when I can't commit to a real article and I hope you will understand this time, too.

I let you in on so much of my life, I feel I can write to you and explain when I am up to my ass in alligators. Yes, I said ass. They can say it on prime time television, so I can say it here. By the way, if you find "ass" offensive, you might not want to read my yoga article next week. You have no idea what goes on in Yogaland.

I am pretty stressed out and I am hopeful that yoga will help me cope. As you will discover next week, I kinda don't get it yet, but I am giving it my all.

Love and ohmmmmmmmmmmm,


Health and Welfare

I went to the doctor a few weeks ago and prepared myself for the lecture about losing weight and getting more exercise. He’s like a broken record. No matter what I go to him for, it always gets back to losing at least 20 pounds and exercising regularly. I don’t know what he’s complaining about, I have lost 20 lbs... many times over. And I have actually been trying different exercise regimens all the time to try to find something that I like enough that I’ll stick with it. The problem is that his take on exercising regularly and mine seem to differ. He’s talking Monday, Wednesday, Friday. I have been actively searching for “cardio” programs more on the January, February, March kinda schedule.

So I was sitting in the examination room dreading his entrance, when in comes the nurse. Tell me, what is up with sending in a nurse beforehand who takes your blood pressure and asks you every freakin’ time what medications you are taking? You would think they'd know. "I take the ones the damn doctor prescribes", I was thinking to myself. Isn’t that how it’s supposed to work? But I didn’t want to make waves so I took out the little card I made with all my prescriptions and dosages and read them out loud so the nurse could make notes... AGAIN.

“Is your primary care physician allowed to call you a smart ass?”

Alone once more, there was a knock on the door. It was him. He always enters the same way. Reading my chart, shaking his head and mumbling. “ Miss Fifi... you’ve lost a pound and a half since your last visit”, he grumbled. Without hesitation, I exuberantly applauded myself for a job well done while he give me a very unkind look. Is your primary care physician allowed to call you a smart ass? Just wondering. He obviously wasn’t impressed with my weight loss, so I promised to work on it. And I always do work on it, but I also work on putting it back on with just as much conviction. He then asks me what I do for exercise. I knew this question was coming and I was prepared. “I started water aerobics”, I replied, hoping that would appease him. I avoided eye contact to try to keep the conversation from going any further. The truth is I actually stopped water aerobics the same day I started. I liked it except for the fact that I don’t like wearing a swimsuit and I hate getting wet. I did love it that I was the youngest person in the class, however.

“Water Arobics!” That’s not the kind of exercise you need!” he bellowed. “Listen to me!” he continued to bark. “If it were up to me, I would have chosen yoga for you!”. Was I dreaming? He would have frozen yogurt for me? When? Where? What flavors? Is this while I am exercising or after? It didn’t take me long to realize that he was recommending yoga. He felt that Hatha Yoga was something I would benefit from greatly, both in body and soul. I couldn’t disagree. I had dabbled in brief yoga sessions before on cruise ships and really did like it. Of course, heading to the buffet afterwards may have had something to do with it. I speak Yoga-ese enough to know that Hatha is the calming, stretching, get-in-touch-with-your-body-and-spirit kind of yoga. I almost got rooked into joining my youngest daughter for a yoga session a few years ago. I didn’t know about different kinds of yoga until she left a voice message reminding me about our date for “Pilgrim” Yoga. I called her back and inquired as to what Pilgrim Yoga was all about. It turns out that I misunderstood what she said and it is called Bikram Yoga. It involves doing yoga moves in a room that is heated to 105 degrees. I gently declined the invitation although my daughter insisted that I would find it to be a joyous and "freeing" experience. Bless her heart! All I could think about was what could be worse than exercise? Exercising in the DESERT, was my immediate thought. Whew! Talk about dodging a bullet.

My doctor and I discussed the virtues of yoga and I promised to give it a try. It couldn’t hurt me and it might even help my soul and my stress level. My appointment seemed to be going well and he was actually slightly delightful. I thought he was leaving, but instead he sat down, opened my folder and looked at the notes that the nurse had just taken. “So, are you still taking Sillystatin, Yadamycin and Gooberglycol?” he said with a straight face, making certain to include the dosages. It took everything in me to answer him calmly without affirming his “smart ass” diagnosis of me. I wanted to say “Nah, I don’t take them anymore. I just fill the prescriptions and what I can’t sell on the Black Market, I am able to get rid of in alley ways.” But I didn’t. I just smiled and promised to eat less cookies and look for a suitable yoga class.

I start tonight. I have a brand new yoga mat and I am waiting to see what everyone else is wearing so that if I continue, I have the cutest yoga clothes in the class. To be continued...


Vegas, Baby!

I think I mentioned that I just returned home from a 3 day buying trip in Las Vegas. They hold these huge trade shows for women’s clothing and underclothing. For anyone who has been fortunate enough to never have attended a trade show, it’s pretty exhausting and at some point it all starts looking the same. Not complaining.. We found fabulously fantastic stuff for LoveFifi, so it’s more than worth it. I can’t wait to show you what’s coming.

Anyway, let’s talk about Las Vegas. I go there often for business and because it’s only 4 hours away from me by car, I also go there to have fun. It’s truly a fascinating place and it’s changed so much. When I was a kid, my parents would go to get away from us kids. My mom would pack her fanciest clothes and my dad would take a variety of outfits including a coat and tie. They may have taken swimsuits, but all the photos they brought back were of them at different places all dolled up. It seems that they looked pretty snazzy day and night. Even in their shots at Hoover Dam, they looked casually chic. To us kids, their weekend trips to Las Vegas were very mysterious, indeed. We always surmised that there must have been some monkey business going on because they came back in a great mood and always brought us back really cool stuff. If they felt guilty, I didn’t care. My first cardigan with rhinestone trim came from one of their Vegas getaways. I had the only "bling" in my 5th grade class and I was the envy of every girl. I think even my teacher lusted after that sweater. Good times.

Now it’s a whole different story. People don’t dress up during the day at all. It's all shorts and t-shirts and flip flops for the most part. I was of gambling age when people still got decked out on trips to Vegas. Sequins during the day were perfectly acceptable. Considering how over-the-top everything is in that town, it’s kind of odd to see people dressed like they are about to wash their car. The place is so damn glamorous; the people should match the whole ambiance. Don’t you think?

I was of gambling age when people still got decked out on trips to Vegas. Sequins during the day were perfectly acceptable.

As everyone knows, it’s easy to get married in Nevada because there is no blood test or waiting period. There are 16 wedding chapels on or near the strip. Somewhere around 10,000 couples a month tie the knot in Las Vegas. I have never been to an actual wedding at one of these chapels, but one of my best friends had a renewal ceremony on her 20th anniversary at the chapel where an Elvis impersonator officiates. It was so much fun. I don’t think anyone stopped giggling throughout the whole thing. They played the theme to 2001 A Space Odyssey just like they did for The King when he entered the arena. “Elvis” walked my girlfriend down the aisle. She had gone to the beauty shop earlier in the day and had her hair bouffant-ed out within an inch of its life to resemble Priscilla on her wedding day. If that wasn’t enough of a shock, you should have seen the look on the groom's face. He had no idea what she’d been up to.

The Elvis guy was great and really looked like the older, fluffier Elvis. My favorite part was during the actual vows when he asked the groom "Do you, Benjamin Stern, you hunka hunka burning love, take this woman to be your wife for the rest of your life?" Ben couldn’t even speak he was laughing so hard. It was so adorable. These friends always celebrate life’s milestones with an extravaganza and this one was spectacular. Elvis then sang them out of the chapel with "Viva Las Vegas!". My friends just celebrated their 35th anniversary, so their Elvis wedding seems to b working great.

Okay, getting back to the way people dress in Las Vegas, there is one exception to the casual dress rule and it drives me crazy. Of course Las Vegas is a popular place with the young, over-21 crowd. They come in droves over the weekends to party down. I actually stopped staying at the Hard Rock after I saw a girl in a thong bikini bathing suit in the taxi line in front of the hotel. I had an epiphany at the moment that I was really too old to stay there. What if I had decided to go swimming? How could I ever blend in with the crowd in my one-piece bathing suit with the skirt at the bottom?

These young party animals are unavoidable, but they are pretty interesting species to watch in action. The girls have kind of a uniform for going out at night. The dresses are as tight and short as possible and the must-have accessory for all of them are the platform 6” stiletto-heeled shoes. These ladies are easy to spot. They travel in groups and few of them can actually walk in their shoes. I sometimes am stuck behind a gaggle of them heading out for the evening and fantasize about what if one of the ones on the end tipped over on the girl next to her. It would be a domino effect extraordinaire, and the best part would be watching them trying to get up in those dresses. I know... I am mean.

Sometimes these ladies meet up with their boyfriends and this is what really bugs me. The guys are never dressed up. Only the women seem to have a dress code for clubbing, etc. The women are dressed borderline slutty and their guys look like they are off to play basketball at the park. What has happened to fashion? I keep flashing on those snapshots of my parents in Las Vegas so beautifully dressed from years ago.

As it turns out, when I am in Vegas, my normal 9:30 bedtime gets extended into the wee hours. Those same girls are now plowed and it isn’t uncommon to see one bare-footed, holding her skyscraper shoes and throwing up into the casino’s trash bin. Very sexy. They all end up carrying those stupid shoes at the end of the evening. Not one of those females seems to be able to make it through the night, even the ones who aren’t drunk.

On this last trip, my sister ran into the cutest couple. She was complaining about her shoes and he started teasing her about it. All of a sudden he threw off his sneakers, gave them to her to wear and he put on her “pole dancer” shoes to prove a point. My sister asked if she could take a photo. I love Vegas, this would never happen anywhere else. I hope the couple doesn’t really believe that what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas. This article is going out to 50,000 of you, so that’s not exactly true. Take a look below. Pretty cute, huh?


My Darling Readers

Wow, what a week! I have been in Las Vegas for the last 3 days shopping for new merchandise for LoveFifi. It’s been both exciting and exhausting. For those of you who have ever walked the endless aisles of a trade show, you know what I am talking about. Try 3 trade shows in 3 days. I am pooped.

I am on my way back to LA and I am texting this love letter to let you know what’s up. Don’t worry, I am not texting and driving. I completeIy let go of the wheel when I text in the car. Just kidding. I am being driven.

I have a funny article in the works, but I am afraid it will have to wait until next week. I hope your week was as successful and happy as mine. Have a lovely weekend. I plan to spend the entire weekend doing absolutely NOTHING. I can’t wait.

Hugs and kisses.



Usually, saying funny things is second nature to me, but not today. I have taken the death of Robin Williams pretty hard. My friend Laine posted this on Facebook and I think her sentiments are perfect. “I feel like I have lost a family member”. When famous people die, I think we all think about what they have added to the world and feel sorry for their families. But for me, this has been a tough year.

When Maya Angelou passed away, I was saddened because I really love her. She gave me so much through her writing. I took comfort in the fact that she lived a long, rich life and worked until her body just gave out. To me she is one of the greatest philosophers of all time. I quote her often and find constant strength in her words.

She is sitting on my shoulder when I write. I am in no way comparing what I write to what Maya has written... that would be like comparing Shakespeare to the guy who writes blurbs for inside fortune cookies. But she set me free a long time ago, to say what was on my mind, to be proud to be a woman with a voice, and to be kind. She also didn’t trust people who didn’t know how to laugh. But the best thing about Maya was the insightful way she viewed life. She gave the world so much. She gave me unmeasurable amounts of wisdom that are now a part of who I am.

“People will forget what you said, people will forget what you did, but people will never forget how you made them feel”. “I’ve learned that you can tell a lot about a person by the way he/she handles 3 things. A rainy day, lost luggage and tangled Christmas tree lights.” - MAYA ANGELOU

Losing James Garner last month had a different kind of sadness for me. My daddy loved him. Watching the Rockford Files as a family was a big deal. My dad always said that James Garner was a man’s man and my dad was one too, so he would know. For anyone who saw his last acclaimed piece of work, The Notebook, Garner’s portrayal of a man in love with his ailing Alzheimer’s stricken wife was heart wrenching and beautiful. If you didn’t know, James Garner was married to the same woman for 58 years in real life. He also marched with Martin Luther King in the Jobs and Freedom March in 1963, when his acting career was in full swing and he had a lot to lose. And if you aren’t convinced that he cared about his country and its people, James Garner fought on the front lines in Korea, was wounded twice and was awarded two Purple Hearts. A man’s man and a woman’s man all rolled into one. His passing made me miss my father so much more.

And now Robin Williams is gone. From the very first time I saw him on Happy Days, I was in love. His wack-a-doo quirkiness as Mork was intoxicating. Robin was an incredibly funny stand-up comedian, but he gave something to acting that it had never seen before. Because Robin was such a genius ad libber, his prepared dialogue in his movie scripts was often abandoned because what came out of his mind and then his mouth was so much better. Brilliant doesn’t even begin to describe this man. He was a giver. He was one of the brains behind Comic Relief. The out pouring of love and heartfelt sentiments from the world prove what he meant to so many of us.

I was lucky enough to see him perform twice. About 20 years ago I was at the Improv in Hollywood and he stopped by to do an impromptu set. He was hilarious and adorable. But the best was when I went out to wait for my car at the valet; he was waiting, too. There were a dozen people there so I didn’t have to worry about making conversation, but it was exciting to be so close to someone I idolized. The second time was when I saw him perform live at a fundraiser a few years ago. He was on stage for over an hour and my face hurt from laughing for days afterwards. It was fabulous. From what I know, people always depended on him to help raise money for worthy causes.

It is hard not to think about how he left this world. He wasn’t almost 90 like Maya and James. He was in tremendous pain, emotionally. I have no idea what depression feels like, but I know what it looks like. I have a daughter who suffers every day from either being depressed, anxious or not liking the feeling of being on mood elevating drugs. She is working hard to overcome it, but it is extremely hard. She was the one I heard from first when the news of Robin was announced.

It is my hope that in his death, there will be a new awareness and understanding from people who don’t comprehend how overpowering the sadness can be for the people who struggle with mental illness. I hope great strides are made in his name and in his memory. For now, I am clinging to remembering him for being a comedic genius, stellar actor and unselfish humanitarian. I don’t have to say much because the tributes to him as a talent and a man are pouring in from all over the world.

Forgive me for not being funny today. I am just not feeling it. If you are still reading, thank you for sticking this out with me. I am going to Las Vegas on a buying trip. The big garment shows are there next week. When I come back, I shall be filled with humorous tales about Sin City. It’s the greatest people watching place in the world. And, lucky me, I get to go to a trade show on my birthday. I guess there is an age when your birthday is not a big deal, but I haven’t reached it yet. Have a great week.


After Midnight

I never thought this would happen to me, but I have become an insomniac. I go to bed after a long day, curl up with my doggies, and drift into a deep sleep. Then, somewhere around 3:07, I wake up. Not the kind of "wake up" where you look around, check out the time, and then go back to sleep. The kind of wake up when you get out of bed and unload the dishwasher. It's annoying.

I am so wide awake and bored. I turn on the TV and try to find something that will lull me back to sleep; I have to get up in the morning and go to work. The wee hours are filled with a lot of wacky stuff on television. I find the reruns of King of Queens and Everybody Loves Raymond hilarious even before dawn. The only trouble is... I find myself laughing out loud and that feels completely weird in the still of the night. And the worst part is that my dogs can't tell time yet and they think it's time to be awake and play. Before I know it, my day is in full swing and the sun is coming up. By the time I have to leave for work, I am exhausted.

This has been going on for months and it is messing with my quality of life. My doctor says that people over 50 don't need as much sleep. I need it, I'm just not getting it. I have tried taking a hot bath before bed and it works great. Until 3:07. Then I am wide awake. I had to stop watching QVC and HSN, because I think I need everything at that time of the morning. New make-up to brighten up my face? Yes, please. A 50-foot hose that shrivels up into a prune to make gardening easier? Count me in! Pots and pans that make cooking effortless and practically clean themselves? GOODNESS, YES! You can talk me into most anything at dawn when I can already feel fatigue setting in and the real day hasn't started.

The television keeps me company when I know that sleep is eluding me. I used to feel guilty and get up and start organizing a drawer or a closet. I would dig stuff out, discover treasures I hadn't seen in ages and then poop out in the middle only to wake up to a big pile of stuff that I would end up just putting back until another time. Sometimes I play casino games on my iPad and that helps make me sleepy. I just broke $200,000,000 on my slot game and if that were real money, I wouldn't have to worry about work ever again.

I have found that just staying in bed is the best thing to do, but it is important to be careful what I watch in the middle of the night. I used to favor shows like Forensic Files and SNAPPED, but those aren't the best going-to-sleep kind of shows for a woman alone. Being scared does not make for sweet dreams.

Speaking of scary, I found myself intrigued with an infomercial as I was scanning the stations a few weeks ago. It was nearly 4:30 a.m. and I was still awake. This blonde woman was thanking her millions of fans for being so loyal for so many years. She was obviously signing off, because she had stopped mentioning whatever the product was she had been pitching. She kept going on and on about all her years in front of the camera and how much she loved her devoted fans. I didn't have the vaguest idea WHO this woman was. I kept watching and listening to her and I wondering who in the hell this person was because I had sure never seen her before. She thanked her television audience one more time and then said the words that horrified me. The camera came in closer and she said "...for Yada-Yada Cosmetics, this is Suzanne Sommers. See you next time!"

Listen, I watched more episodes of Three's Company than I wish to admit, but what happened to my adorable Crissy Snow? The plastic surgery monster got her good, that's what happened. I couldn't stop thinking about it for weeks.

I am still not sleeping great, but I will now wear the bags under my eyes with pride. I'm not changing a thing. Think I'm making a big deal out of this? Scroll down.


Driving Me Nuts

I am going through an identity crisis and I am not happy about it. One would think that by the time you hit mid-life, you would be pretty much evolved and know exactly who you are. Not so.

The time has come for me to buy a new car. My Jaguar just had her 14th birthday, and although she is still very pretty and has only a little more than 100,000 miles on her, she does not suit my life anymore. I am tired of laying out garbage bags on the leather seats when I go buy new flowers for my garden.

I am constantly shopping for my next car. I haven’t been to a dealership yet, but I notice every car (and its driver) when I am out and about. I feel no shame when I peer inside a car I am considering in order to see the interior when at a parking lot. Because I never drive very far, I keep cars for a long time, so I need to do a really good job of choosing Ruby’s(she’s red) successor. I also have to buy a car that my sister likes. I am always happy to use my car when we go somewhere, but I like it best when she drives.She loves to drive and I hate it. It doesn’t even bother me that when I throw her the keys she rolls her eyes and calls me Miss Daisy. Sticks and stones, baby. I even considered buying a pre-owned Porsche. She’d want to drive that all the time and it would be great. But I have decided against a Porsche out of respect for the Porsche Corporation and their reputation for fast, precision sports cars. There would be a lot of times when I would be driving it myself. I imagine that they would not want to see one of their cars in the slow lane, my favorite, or plugging along behind a truck, never passing, because I don’t do that.

There is so much to consider when choosing a car. A conscientious consumer like myself must think about efficiency, eco-friendliness and the practicality of the vehicle. And when I get done with that, there’s how the car looks, what color it is and how will I feel when the valet drives up in it and nods to tell me my car is here. I am not going to lie to you, I want a car that is sexy.

It’s not that I don’t worry about my carbon footprint, I do. I just don’t think an electric car is for me. I can’t even remember to plug in my cell phone to stay connected to the world, so an electric vehicle is really out of the question. And do I dare say it without offending? They’re ugly. I am at a place in my life where I can drive any kind of car that I can afford. Driving around in a car that is shaped like the business end of a Dustbuster does not appeal to me.

When it comes to cars, I have paid my dues, for heaven’s sake. Please... I drove an apple green Gremlin in the '70s because that’s all I could afford. I will never forget the smile on that salesman’s face when I drove off in that thing. It served me well, but I had no privacy. I could be spotted from the moon and people were always telling me where they had seen me around town.

When I got married and had babies, I drove vans. I could carry a gaggle of kids, a pile of sports equipment and still have room for an ass-load of groceries in the back. It’s what I needed at the time and I never gave it a thought. Some of my favorite photos of my kids are of them doing the luggage handling on top of the van for family vacations. I was always such an overprotective mother; my kids were amazed that I actually let them get up on top of such a tall vehicle. I was there to catch them if they fell and I didn’t give a crap about what happened to the car... it was a van.

Then the kids grew up and went off to college. My ex-husband decided that I needed a snazzy car for a change. He found this very beautiful Jaguar with every detail and extra they came with at the time and he insisted that I have it. He made me sit in it at the dealership to see what I looked like in the driver’s seat. Both he and the salesman had pretend heart attacks as I sat at the wheel. It was really cute and I experienced what it feels like to sit in a glamorous car for the first time. If anyone out there knows my ex-husband’s girlfriend, please feel free to tell her that story.

Anyway, I am so befuddled as to what to get. I don’t want a car that is too young for me and I don’t want one that has geezer written all over it. I don’t have to buy a giant vehicle that will hold a softball team or a certain one because I am Mrs. Somebody. I want to drive something that reflects the person I am now, but I just don’t know what that is. I am getting to the place with my car research where I now see cars on the road and mumble to myself what Consumer Reports had to say about it. I am ready to face the car salespeople. I am unafraid.

I am hoping that test driving cars is like trying on wedding dresses. It would be great if I just KNEW it was the one. All I want is a car that I can afford to drive that shines like a piece of jewelry on the outside and is sumptuous on the inside. My Jaguar has more polished wood than my dining room, so I am spoiled. I am terrified of buying something that I will regret. I have no trouble with buying a car that is “pre-owned and certified”. It doesn’t have to be new, just not 14 years old. The new cars all look like belly buttons these days. They don’t come in real colors unless they are bugs, Fiats, Smart Cars or half a million dollar sports cars. If I didn’t know what 50 Shades of Gray was about, I would think it was about the colors cars come in.

Now all I need is your help. If you are driving your dream car, tell me what it is and why it called to you. I am open to sedans, SUVs, jeeps.. you name it. Talk to me! Help me. Just one thing... no vans.