💒
4:30 a.m. | little white chapel of love
We always knew it would be these two.
Coordinating leather vests, really skinny jeans, Saint Laurent sunnies and a pair of diamanté earrings.
Love wins.
I’m not usually one to fangirl at these sorts of things.
I prefer to observe the Hollywood circus from a healthy distance (and height, the boots help). But last night I couldn’t help myself.
I walked straight up to THE BOYS of @heatedrivalrycrave , gushed about their brilliant micro-expressions, congratulated them on their wild ride and confessed: I’ve never been so turned on by male-on-male sex — a revelation that has almost certainly expanded my….ahem…palate? AND I have a feeling…I’m not the only one.
They squealed, congratulated me (!), and gave me a hug. Overshare? Yes. Oddly Proud? I mean yes. I think so, probably.
@nickfouquet —brother, conspirator, mirror.
Thank you for inviting me to be part of your 10-year anniversary campaign—for bringing me to Paris with @martingattistudio , into the work, into the world you’ve been building with such care.
I was deeply honored and touched when you shared that @dunevoltairelova and I have acted as muses—that we are the heroines in the story of Nick Fouquet.
And what a story—told by an authentic French-Californian cowboy ;)
What I’ve learned from you, and from watching how you create—how you observe and alchemize everything around you—is that inspiration isn’t always something that’s taken. It shows up in the exchange between people.
Yes, we all have muses. But the real magic happens when an artist realizes THEY ARE THEIR OWN MUSE—when the source is internal, and the world simply reflects it back.
I’ve always believed that style isn’t about the product itself, but about how a person wears it—what they bring to it, how they live in it. I’m less interested in the object than in what people do with it.
You are a true craftsman. You make beautiful things, but you leave room for them to become stories—to hold memory and to carry the spirit of the person who owns them and wears them.
Here’s to ten years of trusting yourself and the exchange that makes art feel alive.
Love you 🤍
When I first met @lindseyvonn , there was instant shit-talking, knee-scar comparisons and I’m pretty sure I punched her on the shoulder (she didn’t flinch). One of those “oh—we gonna be friendsss” moments.
We were at a women’s retreat of sorts when she asked if I wanted to go to the gym with her. I laughed. Absolutely NOT. I was not going to the gym with Lindsey F*cking Vonn. I hadn’t done Olympic lifts in years. Turns out, neither had she.
At that point, I knew Linds had been retired for some time and had recently had a partial knee replacement. What I didn’t know, was that she was also quietly plotting a comeback—eyeing the 2026 Winter Olympics.
A retired athlete in her 40s, with a bionic knee, putting her skis back at 80 kph? “Impossible”, they said.
Over the past two years, I’ve watched her relentlessly do it anyway.
•
This weekend, I made the trek to Val d’Isère to watch the World Cup—one of several stops on her road to the Olympics. After winning the downhill in St. Moritz last weekend (not a dry eye), she snagged two more podium finishes. 4 out of 5 podiums for everyone following along at home (!).
As I roamed around the team area with pink hair and a neon ’80s ski suit - Lindsey’s boots slung over my shoulder - people kept asking who the hell I was. (Ok so I’ve never been great at being incognito.)
Linds laughed and told them, “She’s my guru.”
The joke, of course, was on her. Watching her comeback up close has been one of the most inspiring things I’ve ever witnessed. (Every guru needs a guru - hey?)
I’ve heard from many who say it feels like she’s carrying the torch for so many of “us.” Not just us women. Not just us in our 40s. But any of US willing to run our own race - and yes maybe plot comebacks…or come ups.
As we packed up on the last day, @tchapaloute motioned to take a photo of us. I leaned in and smiled, and Lindsey, unsatisfied, said, “HOLD THE TROPHY WITH ME, STEPH!”
To my bionic sister: thank you for carrying the torch and sharing your trophies. Love you so and LFGGOOOOooo.
<<patin à roulettes>>
Hadn’t been on rollerskates in over a decade. But..well…the rainbow skates were very persuasive. As was @efeygelson . Merci for dragging me out to @pete_the_monkey for a real good time.
And merci @studiocaravelh_ for capturing my full range of emotions of getting back on wheels. LOL.
Queen @veracolombo : every year we are invited to celebrate the incredible human that you are - I leave thinking “that can’t be outdone” - until of course the next year rolls around.
The care you put into creating and nurturing a magical mystery tour of PLAY is unparalleled. And of course for us little ravers - a big part of play is beats, the beats, oh and THE BEATS. Grateful to be part of the true love story of your life my girl.
📸 @shecansee ⚡️
Sometimes a girl’s gotta baptize herself.
Not into dogma or doctrine —
But into sovereignty.
An ex-therapist once told me, “Steph, there’s wisdom in our choices.”
(Yes, sometimes you gotta break up with your therapist. But I’ll give her this one, she wasn’t wrong.)
But what I’ve come to learn is that our indecision holds its own truth. When we’re paralyzed, it’s not because we can’t choose —
It’s because we’re not listening.
Indecision is clarity waiting to be heard.
I spend a lot of time paralyzed by indecision…
then hastily making plans…
to make another plan.
Each one — a beautifully crafted distraction.
Movement without choice.
Moving without listening.
Yesterday, I sat in a bathtub in Berlin devising my next “plan”:
Carefully plotted, with geographic efficiency, socially segmented,
each piece noteworthy and justifiable —
But all of it a contortion.
An over-orchestration of noise.
As I sat in stillness, the clarity came in a growl:
WHAT THE F*CK ARE YOU DOING?
So, naturally, I did what any pragmatic person with a law degree does:
Went to reach for my tarot cards.
And then laughed, realizing I’d left them in Ibiza.
(Oh, the cliche.)
The message couldn’t have been clearer:
The wisdom of choice —
If it has any hope of alignment and authenticity —
Cannot be externalized.
It must be a self-ordained baptism of sovereignty.
