4:36am.
I ripped off the Britney Spears concert t-shirt I used for a sleep shirt like it was on fire and jumped out of bed. To be fair, the word “jump” in this case was more of a trip, a flop and a stumble.
As soon as my feet hit the floor, I banged my knee on a box of sea kelp-based facial creams that a new cosmetic brand had sent me for an upcoming giveaway.
I decided packing was at the top of the priority list (peeing came in a close second). I foraged through my closet for appropriate travel clothes, still mired in a sleep-deprived fog. “What do people wear in Colorado?” I asked Parker, who was still on speaker mode.
“Mountain leisure,” said Parker’s voice from across the room. I was pretty sure that was NOT a thing. “You should definitely bring comfortablehiking shoes.”
“Why would I bring hiking shoes?”
“For hiking?”
“I will not be doing any hiking,” I shouted from inside my closet.
“Bring a waterproof bag too.”
“Why would I need a waterproof bag?”
“For the fishing and the camping.”
“I won’t be doing any fishing or camping either, so I think I’m good.”
“What if you fall out of a canoe?”
“I won’t be falling out of a canoe because I won’t be getting inside a canoe, I can promise you that.”
“Weren’t you the one pitching authenticity?” asked Parker.
“Technically, that was Victoria. I just took her idea and ran with it.”
I grabbed a few pairs of cotton leggings and some flow blouses, then glanced at my closet full of designer heels. None of them were comfortable enough to walk any distance in, and I highly doubted any of them were waterproof.
“You know my grandpa used to take me fishing,” said Parker over the speakerphone. “It was fun.”
I made a face, even though Parker couldn’t see me. “Well, the closest I’ll ever get to fishing is choosing a can of tuna from the market.”
With an armful of random articles of clothing, I realized I needed something to put them in. I pulled my Louis Vuitton suitcase off the top shelf of my closet and laid it open on the bed. To be clear, it was a piece of luggage I could never have afforded on my own. A travel agent gave it to me in exchange for a series of Instagram posts.
4:56am
After hanging up with Parker, I took care of the pee and shower items on my to-do list. I’d have been dressed too, but allmy underwear (the ones without holes in them) was still in the washer, a soggy mass of delicate fabrics that smelled faintly of mildew. Laundry management was not at the top of my skills list.
I had just tossed them in the dryer when my phone rang. AGAIN. It was my parents. AGAIN.
Parker must have tipped them off about the LuxeLife trip, because that is exactly what he would do if he thought I was stressing out about it, which, of course I was, and now Mom was calling to lecture me on travel safety procedures. The last thing I needed was lessons about preventative bed bug techniques, or the dangers of hitchhiking with strangers. Which I literally did every day. We just didn’t call it hitchhiking any more. We called it Uber.
5:12am
My eyes darted to the pile of unopened PR packages in the corner of my bedroom. One of the boxes was stamped with the logo for ‘Brief Encounters’, a new online intimate-wear company that had been hounding me for a campaign for months. I maneuvered through the stack of boxes like I was playing Jenga, pulling the Brief Encounters box out of the stack. Miraculously, the whole thing didn’t topple over and smother me.
Dropping my towel on the floor, I tore open the box. As soon as I got back from Colorado, I’d shoot an official unboxing reveal and post it on my streams, but at that moment, it was more important to cover my naked butt.
Which … the thing I held in my hand was definitely NOT going to do. It looked like a piece of cherry-red dental floss.
Holding the thin strip of silk up to the light, I tried to figure out which side was the front and which side was the back. Both sides promised extreme discomfort no matter which part of my body they wedged into. At least the matching push-up bralooked straightforward. Surely the rhinestones went on the outside of the nipples.
I threaded one leg through what I thought was an opening in the red silk, then pulled them up over my hips. That’s when I realized the panties weren’t just wafer-thin and translucent; they were also crotchless.
